by G. R. Lyons
“It's alright,” he whispered. “You're safe here, you know that?”
Saira shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “It was real, wasn't it?” she sobbed. “Oh, gods…”
She pressed her face into her pillow and screamed, twisting her fingers through her hair and clenching her hands into fists as she cried.
“Saira, honey…” Charlie reached for her, but she flinched away. “Gods, please don't be afraid of me.”
Saira shook her head but still pulled away when he tried to touch her.
Charlie made a fist, but stopped himself before he punched the wall. He took a deep breath, clenching his jaw, and lowered his hand.
“Honey, you're safe,” he murmured. “He can't hurt you anymore. It's alright.”
Saira sat up and whirled around, putting her back to him as she reached for the nightstand drawer, yanking it open and pulling something out.
In the moonlight streaming through the windows, Charlie saw her raise a gun to her temple.
“Oh, gods, no, Saira!” he cried, reaching toward her but not quite touching her. “Saira, please. Seven save me, don't do this!”
Saira sobbed, her hand shaking as it held the gun.
Charlie bolted off the bed and crouched down in front of her, holding his hands out. “Please, Saira, for the gods' sakes, put it down. Please!”
She shook her head rapidly. “He's in my head,” she cried. “He's everywhere. Gods, I can still feel him on me–”
Saira broke off with a choked sob and a fresh stream of tears ran down her cheeks. She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to straighten up, repositioning her hand and moving her finger toward the trigger.
“Gods damn it all, no!” Charlie yelled, pulling another gun out of the drawer and aiming it at his heart.
Saira opened her eyes and dropped the gun, gasping as she reached for him. “No! You can't! Charlie–”
“If you go, I go,” Charlie told her.
“Gods, no, please!” she cried, sliding off the bed and onto her knees before him, frantically running her hands all over his face and arms and chest.
“Put it away,” he told her.
Saira sobbed, shaking as she picked up the gun from the floor and set it carefully back in place. Charlie waited a moment, watching her, then set the other one beside it and slammed the drawer shut.
Still crying, Saira threw her arms around his neck.
“You can't die,” she sobbed.
“Then neither can you,” he murmured, holding her against him. “I just got you back. I can't lose you again.”
Saira shook her head. “But I'm so…so filthy–”
“No, honey, no,” he whispered, leaning back and wiping the tears from her face. “You are my wife, and you're beautiful, and I love you.”
“But he–” she began, and squeezed her eyes shut. “He–”
“I know,” he whispered. “It's alright. You're not ruined, Saira. Not to me.”
She nodded rapidly, crossing her arms over her chest and gripping her shoulders.
“Saira, honey.” He pulled her hands away and rested his own on her shoulders, slowly moving his hands down to her flat chest. “It's alright.” He put his hands back on her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. “You're beautiful. And you're alive.”
She shook her head, and Charlie sat back slightly, watching her as she stifled a sob.
“Hey, look at me.” He held her by the shoulders and waited until she opened her eyes. “I love you. I'm here, aren't I? Of course I still want you. Look at where we are. You and me. Here. In this house. In this room. Our house. Our room. Look, here.” He opened the nightstand drawer again, felt around for a moment, then drew out a slender gold band and slipped it onto her finger before he held up his own left hand for her to see.
Saira looked at her hand, then at his wedding ring, then back at his face. Her chest heaved once as her tears stopped, and before Charlie knew what had happened, he found himself on his back with Saira on top of him, kissing him frantically.
A minute later they were naked and entwined, making love as though the gods were about to shatter the world again. When it was over, they lay wrapped around one another, panting and sweaty and clinging to one another so tightly it was almost painful.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
Charlie tilted her chin up so he could see her face. “You are so beautiful.”
She smiled slightly, looking like she might cry again, and shook her head. “I thought of another reason why I picked you.”
“Really?” Charlie grinned. “What's that?”
“Because you were the only guy I ever dated who didn't pressure me for more than I was willing to give.”
Charlie barked a laugh. “That's because I knew Dad would torture me fifteen different ways before he buried me alive.”
“He would not.”
Charlie nodded. “He throttled me in the hospital when he found out you and I had slept together before we were married.”
Saira pulled back, giving him a confused look. “How in the world did he find that out?”
“Oh, because of the–” he began, then cut off. “Oh, you never knew about that.”
“About what?”
Charlie looked at her, took a deep breath, and murmured, “The baby.”
Saira sat up, staring down at him, her voice shaky as she asked in a breathless whisper, “What baby?”
Charlie sat up slowly and held out his hands, bracing himself for another breakdown. “Our baby,” he told her, and her eyes went wide. “You had a miscarriage while you were in the hospital, and I asked the doctor to run a DNA test to see whose it was. I had to know. I thought it might kill me, but I had to know. Well, the doctor came back and told me just as your dad arrived, and as soon as the doctor left the room, your dad had me by the throat and up against the wall…”
He trailed off, seeing the blank look on Saira's face as she stared off into nothingness.
“Gods, I knew it,” she whispered. “But I thought it was his. I was lying there—when he left me for a few minutes—and somehow I just knew, and I wanted to die, thinking this…thing, this…abomination was growing inside me. Oh, gods, if I'd only known it was yours…”
Charlie held his breath, waiting for her to start crying again, but she didn't. She drew up her knees and ran her hands through her hair, and just shook her head.
“You have no idea,” she murmured, “how much that helps.”
She let her arms fall, wrapped loosely around her legs, and all the tension seemed to fade right out of her.
Charlie settled back on his elbows and watched her for a few minutes, seeing her take a deep, steady breath as her expression smoothed and her shoulders relaxed.
“Probably happened again,” Charlie murmured, breaking the silence, “unless you're on some pill I don't know about.”
Saira looked at him, puzzled, then he saw the corner of her mouth twitch as she fought a smile.
He sat up and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Would you like that?” he whispered.
Saira looked at him uncertainly, but nodded. “The doctor said it may not be possible, though, with all the damage he did. I didn't care then, but now…”
Charlie smiled at her, running his hands down her arms. “Then we'll hope.”
She looked down at herself, fresh tears showing in her eyes as she tightened her arms around her knees, whispering, “How am I going to nurse a baby?”
“Honey,” he whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes. “It'll be alright. We'll figure something out.”
“But–”
“As soon as all this is over, we'll talk to some doctors. See what they can do. Alright?”
Saira sniffed and nodded, trying to smile, and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his.
“Thank goodness I came here that night,” she said. “I almost didn't.”
“You wanted to tell me
something,” Charlie said, suddenly remembering Saira arriving at the house, the night before the wedding, looking unsettled. Saira nodded, and he realized, “The visions. Was that it?”
She nodded again. “I thought…you needed to know, just in case you changed your mind about us.”
Charlie pulled back and looked at her. “I don't ever remember you having them, though.”
Saira shrugged. “They were pretty rare, and weren't outwardly apparent then, so I was able to hide them most of the time. Dad knew, of course, but we tried not to tell anyone else. I don't know why they changed with the amnesia, though. Maybe just…Maybe having part of my mind inaccessible made another part more so? Who knows? I don't know what they'll be like now, if the phantom wounds will still happen or not.”
She looked away, and Charlie turned her face back toward himself. “We'll deal with it, however it is. We're going to be alright, honey.”
Saira took a deep breath, started to nod, then shook her head instead. “Not until we catch that bastard.”
“We'll get him,” Charlie promised her. “One way or another. We'll get all of this behind us.”
Saira looked at him for a long moment, her expression slowly softening as her smile returned. Charlie leaned forward, kissing her gently, and grinned as Saira pulled him down to the floor again.
* * *
“WE'VE GOT him.”
Saira looked up as she walked into the conference room at the Oaks Pass office the next day, hand in hand with her husband. Several officers were gathered around the table, with dozens of files scattered across the surface.
Her father sat at the head of the table, smiling at her with relief.
The detective who had spoken stood by the wallscreen with a pointer in hand.
“Asenna was right,” he went on. “Thay–”
“Saira,” she interrupted him.
The officers all looked up at her, and one jumped from his seat and scooped her up in a bear hug.
“Gods be praised, she's back!” the man exclaimed.
Another jumped up and heartily wrung her hand.
“Sure have missed you, kid,” another said.
“And your muffins,” another called out, raising a chorus of laughter and nods. The man patted both hands on his expanded midsection. “Oh, the blueberry ones, with the–”
“Alright, enough,” Chief said, and everyone quieted down. “We've got work to do.”
The room went quiet, but Saira gave the men a wink before turning her attention back to the wallscreen.
The officer lifted his pointer and tapped on an icon so that it jumped forward and expanded, showing a picture of her attacker.
Charlie caught her hand before she could reach back for him, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Thayeron Cryntz,” the officer said. “Born twenty-seventh of Faldris, 3460, to Shyril Cryntz. Vic number one.” He paused and tapped on another section of the screen, bringing up one of the files from the list of victims of the Rose Killer, then went back to Cryntz's picture. “Father unknown. Put into foster care three days later, and shuffled from home to home for the next thirteen years. Apparently he was troublesome and never stayed in one home for long. Then his birth mother tracked him down and took him in, out of the blue, but by then she was going by a different name—apparently, quite a habit of hers. We've found six known aliases for her so far. Shryil Cryntz, Shyril Blair, Shyril Dane, and so on. Seems she liked to change her name a lot, move around, start and cancel policies at different defense firms. She also had another child, but never registered him on any of her policies. Vic number two.”
The officer brought up the next victim file and dragged it over next to the first.
“The red roses,” Saira murmured, looking at the images of the victims' faces.
“Exactly,” the officer said, tapping a small icon next to their files, bringing up the images of their respective floral arrangements. “They were family.”
He dragged those two files farther to the side of the screen and tapped open several more, laying them out in order.
“Foster parents who were particularly abusive to him, according to reports we found on them,” the officer explained, pointing to each file, and overlaying images of their flowers. “All orange.”
Pushing those aside as a set, he brought up a few more. “School mates who were notorious for bullying Cryntz,” he said. “Apparently he was a rather weak and sickly child and was often picked on by the stronger children.” He turned to look at Saira, and she nodded confirmation.
“It was fairly common to see him bruised and bloodied after a break between classes,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “He was an easy target because he was so small for his age.”
The officer nodded, and turned back to the screen to add the floral images. They all featured yellow flowers.
“The white roses,” the officer continued, bringing up the last of the files and displaying their applicable arrangements, “were all for women. Some of these were his foster sisters. Three of them were young nurses in training at an orphanage where Cryntz lived right before his mother found him.”
The man paused, took a deep breath as he glanced over at Saira, and slowly turned back to the screen. He hesitated, his pointer hovering over the little icon that would bring up Saira's file.
“The last was me,” she said, tightening her grip on Charlie's hand.
The officer nodded and brought up her file. “The only girl Cryntz was ever interested in, according to those from your school we were able to track down and question.” He paused and looked over at the chief before continuing. “Luckily, the night Cryntz harassed you at home, Chief actually logged a minor report about the incident, just in case he ever needed to use it in the future. We checked the date of that occurrence, and compared it to the known dates of Cryntz's whereabouts, which are spotty at best. It was the very next day, though, that Cryntz simply disappeared from Oaks Pass, not to be seen again for several years. And when he did return, he was remarkably changed, according to those who saw him.”
Silence filled the room, until Charlie cleared his throat and said, “Mage.”
“Bingo.”
Saira squeezed her eyes shut and took a half step back, and Charlie silently put his arms around her, hugging her back to his chest.
“So, he goes away weak and crushed,” one detective said, “and comes back with an ego the size of Ceynes and the power to match it.”
“And because he's got the power to match it,” another pointed out. “He's gone from being lesser than everyone to thinking he's greater than everyone because he has power they don't. He thinks himself unstoppable. And so far he has been, since he's been so thorough that there was no victim left alive to recognize him. Until now.”
“Exactly,” said the officer at the wallscreen, clearing one panel with a swipe of his hand and bringing up another icon, which expanded to show video footage from one corner of Divinity Square in New Haven. In the midst of the crowd walking the sidewalks and admiring window displays, they had a very clear shot of Thayeron Cryntz casually strolling along with his head held high.
“He's not hiding,” the officer pointed out. “This footage came in just an hour ago after we called in a few favors and ran some video archives against our facial recognition software. This is downtown New Haven just a few days ago. He thinks he's perfectly safe, walking around in plain sight.”
Saira nodded to herself, absorbing the information, and fought down anxiety as she realized what she had to do.
“Charter a flight,” her father spoke up, interrupting her thoughts. “We need to get back to New Haven as soon as possible. And arrange for a blackout car to meet us there. We need to keep Saira hidden.”
Saira opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself before anyone noticed. For now, at least, she knew her father was right: She had to stay hidden.
But she couldn't stay hidden forever.
Chapter 24
BENASH GLANCED
over his shoulder as the plane leveled out. On one side of the jet, Malrin and Lehinis had their chairs turned toward one another, a table game switched on between them. On the other side, a wallscreen played a news channel, but the chairs beside it were empty.
At the back of the plane, sitting together on a plush bench seat, Saira and Charlie were silent, holding hands and sipping from mugs of coffee that rested on the table before them.
“She's fine, Hawk.”
Benash looked up and saw Vorena standing over him, giving him a smile.
“I know,” he mumbled. “I just can't wait for this all to be over.”
He unclasped his seat restraint and walked to the back of the plane with Vorena right behind him. Saira looked up as he approached, and reached out to take his hand.
“We…should be landing in about four hours,” Benash told her, at a loss for what else to say.
Saira nodded, thinking, then reached into a bag beside her and pulled out her tablet. “In that case, I've got time to study.”
“Study what?” Charlie asked.
“The case files,” she said, typing in a passcode and bringing up icons for all the victims' files. She looked over at Benash and said, “All the case files.”
Benash glanced over at the screen and noticed that one was missing.
“Saira–”
“Dad, I've already seen it,” she said, then threw up her hands. “Hells, I lived it. Please?”
Benash took a deep breath, let it out on a sigh, and went back to his seat. He unlocked his briefcase, took out his personal tablet, and returned to the back of the plane.
He brought up Saira's file and pulled it out of restricted access with his private passcodes, then frowned at the screen.
“I forget how to do this.”
Vorena pointed at the icon on his tablet and then at the one in Saira's hands. “You just swipe it off the end of the screen and it'll show up over here.”
“How is it you know this and I don't?”
Vorena shrugged. “I've got more time to pay attention to these things than you do.”
“Oh, gods,” Charlie groaned, looking around. “The ghost is here, isn't it?”
