by KJ Harlow
“Sid was old. He looked, I don’t know, 60, 65? But he recognized Mortimer. He knew about him from years ago when Mortimer was still alive and causing havoc in London. He even knew his real last name. He told me that it would be Mortimer’s birthday tomorrow. I wrote it all off as crazy ramblings at the time, but…” I cast my mind back to an hour ago when I was up in the gallery of the House of Commons. The look on Mortimer’s face was priceless.
“So just by pure luck, you find a deranged guy who not only knew his last name but his birthday as well?” Tracy said skeptically.
“Hey, I didn’t believe him either at the time. If I had to resort to wishing Mortimer happy birthday, you tell me how many options I had.”
“He’s scared,” Silas said quietly. Tracy and I looked at him as stared at a spot on the table. “You said he came to you afterward and asked you how you knew about his last name, didn’t you?” I nodded.
“If someone knows his last name, then there must be records of him somewhere in London. If he’s serious about protecting his Torment, he’ll be looking to destroy those records right now.”
“You think the source of his Torment comes from information about his birth?” I asked, looking at Silas intently. He shrugged.
“Why else would he ask you how you knew about it?” I stared at Silas, drumming my fingers on the table thoughtfully. If we were able to Cease Mortimer, it would severely weaken Dante.
“We need surveillance on places that hold information about the people of the UK,” I said, curling my fingers into a fist. “Mortimer must be trying to find the right place to target and destroy right now. The more places we can keep an eye on, the easier it would be for us to find the Tormented again.”
“Good luck trying to get Death on board again,” Tracy scoffed. “You need to give him a bit of time to cool down.”
“Agatha and Tor are still recovering as well. It would be suicide to go back up there with a weakened team,” Silas reasoned. My eyes flicked between them before I stood up. I slowly walked over towards them. Coming so close to losing it all gave me a new perspective on the souls I had become so close to. Now was a good a time as ever to let them know how important they were to me.
“Stand up, Silas,” I said softly. Silas froze for a moment before pushing his chair out and standing up. He nervously pushed his oval-shaped glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looked at me. I opened my arms.
“May I hug you?” I asked. He stared at me for a moment.
“O-of course,” he said. He stepped towards me tentatively as I collected him in my embrace.
“Thank you, Silas,” I said, “thank you for always having our backs. Without your sharp eye, we would have been doomed so many times.” He patted my back awkwardly before I pulled away. He nodded at me, half a smile tracing his lips.
“What about me? Do I get a hug?” Tracy pouted.
“No – you’re a bitch.” I looked down my nose at her. Her mouth opened in outrage.
“That’s what I thought about you when I first met you, anyway,” I said, “now that I’ve gotten to know you, you’re... tolerable.”
“I saved your ass like, three times!” She squawked.
“Alright fine, stand up,” I said, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance. “I’ll give you a hug, but just this once.”
“Nope, don’t want it anymore,” she huffed before storming out the room. I looked down at Silas and grinned.
“Was it something I said?”
Fifteen
“Come in.” I pushed open the door and peeked into Agatha’s room. As usual, the light of candle flickered in on her desk, dancing to a rhythm only it could hear. “Hello, Rose.” I looked across the bed to where Agatha lay. She was gazing at me intently. I stepped in, making sure the door clicked shut behind me. I fidgeted nervously as she continued to gaze at me.
“Get the chair from my desk and come and sit by me for a while,” she said gently. I obeyed, moving across the room to pick up the chair before carefully placing it a foot away from her bed. I angled it at 45 degrees towards her bed so that I could talk to her comfortably. Even when she was weakened, she still had a way of making me feel intimidated.
“My healing balms are in the top drawer,” she said as I was sitting down. “Would you mind…”
“No, not at all,” I said quickly. I strode over to the desk, pulled open the drawer. Sure enough, there was a vial and a folded up cloth ready to use. I took it out, brought it over and stood next to her. “Do I just…” I uncorked the vial and started pouring the balms out.
“Yes, not too much though,” she said watching me do it. “Alright, that’s enough.” I sealed the vial and put it on the floor by the chair. I then stepped next to Agatha and gently put the cloth onto her head, gently patting it into her forehead. I surreptitiously glanced at her temple where I had shot her in the Overworld. As expected, there was no trace of any gunshot wound.
“That was well done before,” Agatha said as she watched me sit down. “Really, it was.” I gave her a tight smile and nodded in acknowledgment. Agatha sighed and looked straight up at the ceiling.
“I dropped my guard today, those chefs…” she scoffed, before looking back at me,”…that was the first time I’d seen anything like that.” We looked at each other silently.
“Did it hurt?” I asked, hesitantly pointing at her head, “You know, the gun shot?” Agatha shook her head slightly so as to not shake the healing balm off.
“No, not at all. It was a good shot, I…” she said as her mouth curved in a warm smile, “I’m glad you made it back out.” I relaxed as I smiled back at her. Her hand was by her side on the bed. I looked at it for a moment then reached out and held it. I squeezed it for a moment before letting go and leaning back in my chair. For the first time since meeting Agatha, we were able to sit in silence together without feeling discomfort.
“Did you think he was going to shoot you?” I asked. Agatha sighed again and closed her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure I wanted to know.” As she lay there, I tried to think of a way to breach the next topic. After struggling for a while, I gave up. Tact had never been my strong suit.
“I’m sorry to hear that you had killed yourself,” I said bluntly. I tensed up again as I waited for Agatha to respond. She opened her eyes and smiled at me again.
“No need to apologize, dear,” she said warmly. “It’s the past. I dug it up but it belongs deep in the ground.”
“Why did you tell him? Do you think he’s able to change?” The smile faded from her face.
“No, I don’t. I told him because…” she paused as she tried to find the right words. “Because I needed to make peace with it. It didn’t matter that he was there. The timing was right for me.” I stared at Agatha as she closed her eyes again. To have carried the burden of feeling responsible for the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people, believing that you could have stopped it… it was no wonder she wasn’t as bright and bubbly as Tracy.
“What did you think about the Underworld when you first came down? Being Catholic and all?” Agatha smiled as she cast her mind back.
“I found it comforting that the concepts of Heaven and Hell were real,” she said. “Then Death had to call me into his office and turn my belief system upside down.”
“Did he really say that God told him to offer you this contract? Agatha was quiet as she delved deep into her mind.
“No,” she said eventually. “He never said ‘God’, but he implied it. He told me that I was wrong to have blamed myself for the murders and that I could have a second chance to take control of my life and stop him.” As I listened to her talk, I became entranced by the shadows dancing on the wall behind Agatha’s bed head. I couldn’t help but think of Stan, how I had tried so hard to rescue him but ultimately had to accept that he couldn’t be saved.
“If you could go back to that day when Mortimer had proposed to you, would you still have said the same thi
ng?” Agatha looked at me somberly, her eyes searching my face for the real question I wanted to ask.
“I was young and naïve back then. I didn’t know so much. Mortimer was a whole new world for me; one that I wanted to explore. But that would have meant abandoning the people who made me who I was to that day. I was not prepared to do that.” She looked at me and smiled gently. “Does that answer your question?” I nodded with a slight smile on my face.
“Now,” she said, clearing her throat. “‘Happy Birthday Mortimer Weston’? You must tell me where that idea came from.”
Agatha was staring at the door to her room as she furrowed her brow. She played with the hem of her habit distractedly as I finished the recount of how I first met Sid to moment Walter and I retreated.
“Mortimer never mentioned someone called Sid,” she said slowly. “Then again, he never talked about his personal life much. I didn’t know if he had family, friends or where he lived. All I knew was that he was a bit of a rogue. He stole things to survive. He tried to give me gifts, but I always made him return them.”
“But how about the day that he proposed to you?” I said, leaning forward in my chair. “You said that he came to you with blood on his hands.” Agatha closed her eyes as she brought up the painful memory again.
“Yes. Something had happened. He didn’t tell me why he had blood on his hands, nor did he tell me whose blood it was.”
“Maybe he killed someone and wanted to escape with you before he was caught?” Agatha looked at me as she thought.
“It’s possible. It still doesn’t explain who Sid is though and how he knew Mortimer’s real name.”
“I feel like we’ve got a lead, Agatha,” I said, my eyes shining. “I’ve never seen Mortimer react like that. He thought that he had buried that part of his past completely but by chance, this Sid guy pops up and knows his name and birthday.”
“You said that Sid looked how old?”
“60? Maybe 65?” Agatha furrowed her brow again as she looked down at the floor.
“Mortimer became a Tormented in 2005 when Dante found him. He never told me his birthday but I did know he was a couple years younger than I was. It’s possible that Sid knew Mortimer when he was younger. He would have to be older than 65, though.” I knew that the timelines didn’t really match up but I wasn’t willing to let go of this.
“We have to go back up and find him,” I said. “He knows something that we don’t. He might even know what tormented Mortimer. Maybe it related to the blood on his hands.”
“Perhaps,” Agatha said. “Have you spoken to Death about this?” I leaned back in my chair and dropped my shoulders.
“That’s where I need your help. We had a bit of an argument about the mission. My idea started off being a quick recon mission but turned out that quickly turned into a bloodbath that resulted in four of us being killed,” I sighed. “I can’t blame him, really.”
“But no one got Ceased, right? We’re all still here. What we’ve got now is a potential lead who can help us possibly Cease Mortimer. The Tormented probably don’t know about him yet. We need to get back up there and find him before they do.”
“I know that you’ve just recovered, but can you talk to him for me? I think it will be some time before I win back his trust.” Agatha stood up and readjusted her habit.
“I don’t care if he’s the Angel of Death. If he’s going to let his own feelings get in the way of our mission, he’s an idiot.”
“Death.” Agatha burst in through the door to his office glided across to his desk.
“Agatha, should you be up so soon?” He spotted me following Agatha and pursed his lips.
“I’m fine,” she said dismissively. “I’m here to talk to you about Mortimer.” His hazel eyes darted between me and Agatha. He grunted, put his fountain pen down and leaned back in his chair.
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the seat in front of him. “There’s only one seat.” He said, half-heartedly glancing in my direction.
“I’ve been in bed all day so I’m fine standing,” she said firmly. “Now, am I to believe that you are forbidding Rose here from going on missions?” I tried to keep my face as emotionless as possible as Death gave me a guilty look. “Let me ask you again–”
“She shot you, Agatha,” he said glaring at me as he picked up his fountain pen again. “She broke Rule Number 2.”
“Her quick thinking is the only reason why I’m standing here in front of you right now!” Agatha said indignantly. I couldn’t resist the tiniest of smiles. It was an ordeal facing up to a fired up Agatha but so much more enjoyable when she was on your side.
“Silas, Tracy, and Tor were all wounded. Tor is still recovering. What would happen if the Tormented were to launch another attack right now?” Death said, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“We can handle it. We were careless on the last mission but we have something that we haven’t had since we arrived in London: an advantage. Mortimer is scared. We know something about him and he’s not sure how we know. He tried to ask Rose but to her credit, she didn’t tell him. Do you know what that tells me? It tells me that Sid knows something about Mortimer that could help us Cease him!”
Even seated, Death was still taller than a standing Agatha but by the time she had finished her tirade, he had shrunk back in his seat. I was looking down at my hands as I traced circles in my right palm with my left thumb. I almost felt sorry for Death, but not quite. He sat up again to his full height and cleared his throat.
“So what do you want me to do then? Send you all back to look for this Sid character and interrogate him?” He looked sharply at me. “Do you actually know where he is?” I looked up and froze.
“He might still be in the Central Hall,” I said slowly, trying to buy myself more time to think. “He did tell me that he ran a small health clinic for the homeless…” I said, trailing off.
“So basically, you don’t know where he is?”
“That’s why we have to go up and find him! Every second we’re down here, the Tormented might be a step closer to destroying our only chance of Ceasing Mortimer.” Agatha had done away with the outrage and was now looking imploringly at Death. He crossed his hands on the table as he considered our request. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” Death said, not breaking eye contact with Agatha. Silas popped his head in.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “We have found the Tormented again.” We all looked across at Silas.
“Where are they? What are they doing?” Death demanded. Silas looked across to him, the flame from the fireplace reflecting off his glasses.
“It looks like they’re planting explosives.”
“Which building are they targeting?” Death said, his eyes roaming over the screens. Agatha and I stood off to the side, watching him speak with Silas.
“There,” Silas said, pointing to a monitor in the middle of the wall and slightly to the right. “Just wait for the camera to switch back to the front…” we waited a few moments before we saw them. There was a shady character standing outside the front of the building. She looked at her fingernails in boredom. Her childlike appearance gave it away immediately.
“Matylda,” I said under my breath. I looked at Silas. “Are Dante and Mortimer there as well?” He shook his head.
“No, I haven’t seen them.” We continued to watch the security footage. Matylda seemed to be waiting for something.
“What building is it?” Death asked.
“The General Register Office. All the records of every English person who has been born, died or gotten married are held here.” I exchanged looks with Agatha. There was no doubt about it: if there Tormented were here, there was something they wanted to hide – or destroy.
“Let’s go down and take care of her,” I said, turning and moving towards the meeting room. Death shot me a sharp look.
“There’s something else you should know,” Silas said. He nodded to one of the wor
kers who zoomed out on a map of the General Register Office until we could see the whole of England. “It’s over 200 miles to the north west of London in a place called Southport.” I stared up at the map then looked back down at Silas.
“So? We can adjust the coordinates of the portal to take us directly there.”
“What happened the last time you all spread out all over the country?” Death said tersely. I looked up at him. We stared at each other for a few seconds before I broke it off. As much as I hated to admit it, it did feel like the Tormented were setting another trap. Divide and conquer seemed to work well against us.
“This Sid person is in London, isn’t he?” Death said, addressing me directly.
“Most likely,” I said. “I don’t think he could have gotten very far anyway, not with the state of his leg.” Death started walking towards me. I stood my ground as he got closer. He stopped a couple feet away from me.
“I’m going to ask you again,” he said quietly. “Does Mortimer know that Sid spoke with you?”
“No, he does not,” I said, looking up at Death defiantly. He regarded me carefully as he formulated his next question.
“Is there any reason that the Tormented would be in London then?”
“How am I supposed to know!” I said, wringing my hands in frustration. “Agatha and I only found out by chance that they were in the Palace of Westminster.” Death rolled his eyes. Agatha suddenly stepped toward Death.
“Now listen here. We might have come close to being Ceased before, but every step forward we have taken has been because of Rose. The Tormented have had the advantage from the beginning but this,” she said, stabbing her finger up at the screen on the wall, “proves that the Tormented are taking precautionary measures. So don’t roll your eyes at her when she tells you she doesn’t know. She knows more than all of us combined and she definitely knows more than you!”
All eyes were on Agatha as she stared up at the Angel of Death, her comparatively little fists balled in anger. Conscious that Tracy wasn’t in the room, I closed my stunned jaw myself and looked up at Death. Unlike the first time Agatha unleashed a diatribe to him, this time he didn’t shrink back. Conscious that everyone in the room was starting to direct their attention to him, he regarded me and Agatha as the gears in his brain cranked.
