by Jaime Rush
As a mercenary, he could bring whatever he wanted. He had to find a way to smuggle one of his weapons with him when he returned. He hated to admit he needed the edge. The C would never know.
“One more question,” Yurek asked. “Is there a chance I can return to the Earth dimension early? Pope will expect me to be back in twenty-four hours. I’d like to surprise him.”
Gaston nodded. “I’ll consult with your medic.”
Petra woke with a start, coming out of a dream—no, a nightmare—where she watched Cheveyo get slayed by Yurek. She pushed the images of the dream, and the terror and grief, aside, taking in the man lying next to her, whole, alive.
Right here, with her.
She hadn’t moved, and he hadn’t woken. He was in that deep sleep state, but she knew any movement or sound would wake him instantly. He was on his back, and she was tucked in beside him, her hand on his chest, leg slung over his. She felt the rise and fall of his breath.
Mine. And never mine.
Her heart ached at the thought of losing him. That he could be slayed as he had in her nightmare . . . the thought drove a nail into her heart. She lifted her head just enough to see the digital clock. It was four in the morning.
Go back to sleep.
She needed every second of sleep. But it didn’t come easily. The nightmare clung to her. She had to remind herself she didn’t have dreams that portended the future, but it still felt real, imminent.
If only he would give up his mission. It was all that stood between them, all that stood between him and a real life.
When his guard was down, she’d gone into his soul and seen that horrible memory. His father had sensed her there, and she pulled out like a scared rabbit. She wasn’t scared of much anymore. She sank into Cheveyo, feeling his darkness, his isolation, and other feelings she couldn’t identify.
“Wayne? Wayne Kee?”
This time she saw the man’s face, in his human guise as a Native American, his expression a scowl. And she could converse with him as if he were actually in the room with her. “You dare to intrude in my son’s soul again? And to summon me? You are either very foolish or very brave.”
“A little of both, I suspect. I am here to beg you to release Cheveyo from this life mission you have assigned him. Can you not feel his loneliness? His need for love?”
Wayne’s face tightened. “Feelings, as inconsequential as they are, only complicate, weaken, and endanger. Callorians evolved beyond them; unfortunately my son still has them.”
“Yes, he does. Can you just dismiss them?”
“Feelings do not rid the world of dangerous beings. If he doesn’t fight them, who will? Who will step up and protect the innocent?”
She thought of Amy’s baby girl. They would protect her. “He’s put in his time. Is it fair for him to never have love, a family . . . to sacrifice happiness for his entire life? You married and had a family, yet you deny him the same.”
“I should have forgone love, though I would not have had my son. I should have been a lone warrior. Cheveyo will not make the same mistake.”
“He has lost his son, and it hurts him badly. Surely you have felt this.”
His voice softened. “That was indeed regretful. But necessary. The boy child was leading him astray. Softening him.”
Anger unfurled inside her. “He was happy, dammit! You were displeased, I’m sure, that he was actually getting to have a real life. I could give him children, and love. I could make him happy. Don’t you want that for him?”
“I want him to carry on the fight. It is in his soul. He could not live with himself if he let evil destroy his dimension.”
“You’re a selfish bastard.”
She expected backlash, but instead he laughed. A bitter laugh, though.
“Interesting that you call me selfish. Didn’t he tell you about my warning?”
“What warning?”
“I have seen his death, and that death is because he is with you. He will become distracted in battle when you are injured, and that will give the enemy a chance to strike. Still, he refuses to send you from him. In the end, your love for each other will destroy you both.”
Cheveyo sat up, his body stiff, face rigid. He turned to her. “You were in my soul again.” His eyes narrowed. “Talking to my father?”
She sat up, too, crossing her arms in front of her. “I asked him to release you of your duties.”
“You what?” He got up, stalking into the bathroom. “You had no right to go rummaging around in my soul, Petra, especially after I asked you not to.”
She surged up, following him in where he was shoving on his jeans. “You’ve been doing it my whole life. What makes it wrong when I do it?”
He spun on her, his mouth working but no sound coming out for a second. “I wasn’t interfering with your life.”
She grabbed a robe hanging on a hook nearby and pulled it on. Arguing naked was unnerving. “That’s what you think I’m doing, interfering?”
He leaned into her face. “Yes.”
“I’m trying to save you from living sad and alone the rest of your life.”
He put on his shirt and buttoned it. “Don’t try to save me from anything.”
She knew he had a stronger motivation than even his father’s directive. “You can’t bring him back, you know. Kill a thousand Otherlings, but it won’t bring your son back.”
“Leave my son out of this,” he growled, leaning in toward her face. “You think you know me because you’ve probed my soul a couple of times. You don’t know me at all.”
“I know enough about you. I know you’re driven to protect the innocent but you long for love and a normal life. Like we had tonight.” And I know you love me. But hell if she was going to throw that out there just now. Her voice softened. “And you deserve that.”
He pulled back and ran his hand back through his hair, his gaze aimed past her. His mouth tightened.
She moved closer, touching his arm. “Cheveyo, you do deserve love.”
He pulled away again, checking the time. “Let’s get on the road.”
He started to turn, but she grabbed his arm to stop him. “At least tell me why you don’t believe you deserve love.”
He still wasn’t looking at her. “I kill monsters. I kill beings that become monsters.” He turned to her finally, and she saw the darkness in his eyes. “And yet, I’m a monster, too.”
He walked away.
“You are not that kind of monster!”
He was gathering his things in the living area. “What makes me different?”
“You kill to save lives.”
The anger was gone from his face when he looked up at her again. “I am what I hunt. And I did not protect the most innocent person in my life. I did not protect his mother. Because of what I do, I caused their deaths. I will continue to hunt down beasts who prey on others. I will say this one more time: do not ever probe my soul again. When we’re done here, I will find a way to sever our connection so we can both move on with our lives. You’d better get ready. You have ten minutes.”
She remained there, hurt and vibrating. Their first argument. “Your father told me that he saw your death, because of me.”
“Nine minutes,” he said, flicking his wrist and pointing to his watch.
She stepped closer. “Is it true?”
“My father has never lied.”
Her chest tightened. “You’re willing to risk dying to save me. Why?”
“Because if you died and I could have done something to save you, I wouldn’t want to live. I can’t go through that again. Besides, what my father—or anyone who foretells the future—sees, is just one interpretation of it. I saw you dying in the Tomb, but even though I wasn’t there to prevent it, you didn’t die, because something extraordinary happened.”
“Pope happened.” She felt that swirl of gratitude and affection toward him. “Maybe he could save me again.”
“Maybe, but I couldn’t let you stay with h
im knowing he doesn’t have the ability to protect you. I made my choice, and I’ll live with it.”
“Or die because of it.”
“Eight minutes.”
Once again he was putting his safety before hers. “I will not let you die.”
“Yes, you will. Because if you try to save me, you’ll die, and I’ll be in the same place. You will revive me to live in a state of agony, because I will still have caused your death.” He took her hand and pressed it against her heart, his hand covering hers. “Promise me you will not heal me if I’m mortally wounded. If you do, you’ll never see Amy’s baby. You’ll never have one of your own. Promise.” When she didn’t, he ordered, “Promise.”
She whispered, “I promise.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And don’t run off thinking you’re going to save me. You’ll probably get me killed when I have to go after you.”
She was pinned, by both his forced promise and her lack of choices. She spun around and went into her room to get ready.
Two hours later they were standing on the highway. Standing. Not riding or making forward progress. An accident had stopped traffic going both ways. An ambulance had raced north minutes earlier, and now they were waiting for the tow truck to move the wreckage out of the way. Those who were held up were lounging outside their cars, irritated, impatient, or making the best of it. She could hardly make the best of it. The sand here was too soft for the bike to navigate off road. Cheveyo had gone through the pacing phase, and now seemed to have resigned himself to the wait.
When they’d stopped, she said, “Good thing we left early, huh?” only to be answered by a grunt.
He’d wandered away from the people who were gathering and gawking.
She had handed him the perfect reason to cut her off. Well, maybe it was for the best. Wouldn’t that make it easier when they parted? Because he was never going to give up his life’s mission, and she wasn’t going to live this kind of life with him. Not that he’d let her.
There was something that still bothered her. She walked toward him now, her hands stuffed into her back pockets. There was nothing for as far as she could see, other than red sand, scrub brush, and square-topped mountains. And Cheveyo, throwing small rocks at some unseen target. His hair was bound in a leather ponytail, tight at the back of his neck.
She knew the moment he heard her approach. His body tightened, but he didn’t look her way.
“I heard someone say it would be clear in about twenty minutes,” she said.
He threw another rock, as people did when they were trying to skip them across the water. The only water around here were the puddle mirages that were always just ahead on the highway, only to disappear when they got close.
She came up beside him, staring off into the distance. “You’re not afraid of dying, are you?”
She thought he might not answer, but finally he said, “I don’t like the idea of it, but no, I’m not afraid. It’s much harder to lose someone than it is to die.” He was still watching the rocks’ trajectories.
“It’s not because you have a death wish, or because you’re reckless with life. You revere it. I’m terrified of dying, especially now that I’m the same age my mom died. How can you not be?”
“I know we never die. Our bodies, yes, but not our souls. Talking to my father helped me believe this. He’s gone physically, but he’s still here.” He turned to her. “Why are you afraid?”
A breeze blew her hair across her cheek. “Because I don’t know what’s beyond this life. I believe in Heaven, but it’s such a vague, surreal concept to me. And what if I screw up and go to Hell?”
She saw the hardness soften. He brushed her hair from her face, an amused smile on his lips. “Heaven and Hell are here, on Earth. The life you create. If you live in fear, you create Hell. If you let go of that fear and embrace what life is, then you’re in Heaven. Do you believe in a God that is loving and merciful and created all of us and everything here on Earth?”
She nodded.
“Would He or She send you to eternal Hell because you ‘screwed up’? Does that make sense? Or that you only get once chance to get it right?”
She thought about it. “No, now that you put it that way. You said ‘or She.’ I’ve heard women call God a Her and figured it was some feminist thing.”
“That may be. God is neither a He or a She but encompasses both feminine and masculine energy. It’s easier to consider God one or the other, but I’ve never seen Her as an old white man residing in the clouds watching us with a stern eye, granting some people wishes, punishing others for no good reason. Calling God Her breaks the illusion.”
She nodded. “I always wondered about when a child dies. Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. Go on.”
“I think it’s totally unfair when a child or a baby dies. One chance here and it’s gone, sometimes because of someone else’s actions. And if the child wasn’t baptized, did he or she go to Hell? A child? Really?”
“When a child dies, there’s been an agreement before that child and his parents ever came here. The child is to teach them a lesson with his death. We come here to learn, in each lifetime, to become stronger and more enlightened. But our humanity leads us astray more often than not. Luckily we have many chances.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“One of my archetypes is Seeker. When you live on the edge of death and life, you can’t be afraid to look over that edge to either. But I have to stay on the edge without falling to either side.” His fingers had unconsciously gone to his Mobius ring.
“You can’t embrace life when death stalks you.”
“I embrace it more.” He met her gaze. “The next time you’re afraid, I want you to think about your eternalness. Close your eyes.”
She did.
“Hold out your hands. Without moving them, feel them. See them in your mind as energy fields.”
“Wow, I can feel them, like a low, throbbing energy.”
“That’s who you really are. Not your body. That’s your spirit. If you concentrate, you can feel your whole body. No one can hurt you, not who you really are.”
She sat with the feeling for a few seconds. Maybe no one could kill her soul, but she sure did want to live in her body for a while longer. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What did your son’s death teach you?”
“That being part of a family is not my journey this time.”
She met his gaze. “Then why do you want it so badly?”
She saw the denial of that on his lips, in his eyes, but he didn’t say the words. “It’s what I’m here to learn, to overcome.”
“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe your purpose is to be alone in this world, eradicating evil.”
“I’ll never eradicate evil. They just keep coming. All I can hope for is to stay alive long enough to make a difference.” Weariness saturated his words. He glanced over at the line of traffic when an engine started. The tow truck was pulling away, hauling the carcass of a wrecked car with it.
“Let’s roll.”
As they walked back, her iPhone rang. She pulled it out and looked at the display. “Greg.”
“Your date?”
“Yeah.” She answered. “Hey.”
“Hi, it’s Greg. I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”
“That was really nice of you. Things are a bit . . . hectic.” Like you wouldn’t believe. “My grandmother broke her hip, and we’re helping her out.”
“If you want some company or moral support, I’d be glad to come out for a couple of days.”
Her mouth turned into a frown. “That is so totally sweet to offer.” She hated lying. “But not necessary. Listen, I—”
Cheveyo took the phone. “She should be done here in a couple of days, and she would love to go out with you again.” He handed the phone back to her.
“Who’s this?” Greg asked.
“That was, er, my cousin,
Cheveyo. The one who hijacked me from our date.”
“He’s your cousin? I wasn’t so sure. He’s . . . different.”
She eyed him. “That he is. Hold on for a second.” She pressed the phone against her thigh. “What did you do that for?” she whispered fiercely.
“I want you to commit. You like the guy, right?”
He wanted to hook her up with someone else. “I want to marry him and have three kids and a dog with him,” she hissed. “Well, not have a dog with him but get a dog.” Then she looked down and saw that in her irritation she’d pulled the phone away from her thigh. With a grimace, she said, “Greg?”
“Uh . . . look, I’m not ready to get married anytime soon, and I’m allergic to animals.”
Could she just die right there? She punched Cheveyo’s arm. “Me either. I’m just annoyed at my brother and trying to rile him up.”
“I thought he was your cousin.”
“He’s my cousin’s brother.”
“That would make him—”
They reached the bike, and Cheveyo climbed on.
“Never mind. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and life has been very stressful. Can I call you another day?” She climbed on, too.
“Sure. I hope everything’s all right.”
“Thanks, ’bye.” She hung up, making sure she’d disconnected. Then she thumped Cheveyo’s shoulder. “What’d you do that for?”
He started the engine. “I figured if you could interfere with my future, I could interfere with yours. Making plans is a good idea.”
Traffic started to move, and the bike inched forward.
“Gee, thanks. I’m glad you care so much—about arranging a future for me without you. Do you think I’m going to cling to you once this is all over? Beg and plead for you to let me be your partner? You think because you’re an incredible lover, that you risk your life to keep me safe, that we have some silly psychic connection, that I can’t live without you?”
Uh-oh. Her voice was starting to break. She cleared her throat and waved him to go forward. “Keep moving. Traffic is picking up.”
