by Peter Dawes
‘How far away from the floor are the basement windows?’ I thought toward Robin.
The faint sound of him shifting his position preceded a brief pause, which I assumed to be him assessing. ‘Five feet, I believe,’ he responded. ‘Though I feel as though I should say a meter and a half.’
‘No need to be technical. That will do.’ Casting a quick glance in their direction, I tried not to divert too much concentration toward the effort, adding my own thoughts as brief notions between moments when I felt resistance from the other side. Pointing one hand at the windows, I winced when I heard glass shatter, but one way or another, I had opened it. ‘We are going to have to move quickly. Get ready.’
‘I am literally at your mercy, brother.’
Aware of that much, I did not see the need to respond. Instead, I threw one last, violent blast toward the door and raced to Robin, picking him up when he attempted to reach for me and grunting at the added effort of hoisting him from the ground. Carrying him toward the window, I wasted no time warning him of the broken glass and rolled him through the opening I had created, grateful he could at least ball himself up enough to fit. When I spun back to face the door, I saw nobody pressing forward.
It was too late, I told myself. I had committed myself to this course of action.
And so, I hefted myself onto the ledge and out the broken window. I crawled next to my brother and bent, determined to pick him up again and help him to his feet. My eyes lifted toward an opening which led back onto the road where we had been mere minutes prior. Rather than seeing my salvation, I watched as the Supernatural Order came racing around the corner, closing in on us.
My hand settled on the hilt of my sword, but as it did, I pivoted and saw more of them coming from my periphery. In total, twelve men and women stood around us, the ones who were armed drawing their weapons when I drew mine. Robin frowned when I glanced down at him and as I looked toward the personnel directly in front of us, I saw a portion of them part to allow Gillies passage forward. “Impressive,” he said, his eyes set on me. “You have raw power. Would’ve made a proper seer out of you had we fetched you from the field ourselves, but you’ve made due. The stories I’ve heard are warranted.”
“Then you know to let us go,” I said. “I have proven rather deadly with this.”
“That’s just it, though, Peter. If somehow, you manage to kill me, you go from being a person of interest to having a death warrant. I don’t think you’ll be allowed a vacation to Latin America if that happens.” The way he smiled reminded me of a predator, as if he should be the vampire and I, the prey. The irony of my state of being had not been lost on me.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he continued. “You’re going to lower that weapon and hand it over to my boy Randall over there.” Gillies nodded toward a young seer armed with a bow, the only one not holding a bladed weapon. “We’re going to take you to headquarters, where we’re going to question your academic friend. And if we can somehow prove you aren’t spying for Patrick Flynn, you might see moonlight again sometime in the next century.” His smile broadened, showing the rest of his teeth. “Nice trick, by the way. Turning human. The chaps in Seattle would be interested in hearing about that.”
“I do not intend to take a conference with them on the matter,” I responded. My gaze shifted from one side to the other, photokinetic energy already creeping up my fingertips and coiling its way around my arm. A few of the sorcerers around us took a step backward, but the seers held their ground, tensing when I readied myself with my weapon. Robin shifted on the broken glass, forcing himself into a seated position and for a moment, the world went silent.
When one of the sorcerers groaned, my gaze shifted toward them, the sound so sudden and out of place, I expected Brandon Gillies to bark out a reprimand. No sooner did my eyes settle on them, however, then the sorcerer collapsed onto the ground, followed immediately by the person standing beside him. My heart leaped in my chest, pulse racing to watch one after the other tumble onto the ground. “What in God’s name...?” Gillies began, taking a step closer to me as if aware I was just as befuddled as him.
Walking near me proved to be his fatal mistake.
The assassin who had gone quiet within me – who had not uttered a word since I had taken control of our shared form – rose in one swift movement, capturing control of everything but my thoughts for a split second. I watched in horror as I turned the blade on Gillies and by the time I knew what had happened, the sword had been plunged deep into his chest. My mouth hung agape, my gaze shifting from the incredulity of the wound I had inflicted to the eyes of the elder. He shuddered, vision seeming to go distant, and when I gained control enough to remove the sword, Gillies crumpled to the ground. Like everyone else had.
My hands shook, the fleeting loss of control subsiding. I exhaled a shaky breath and looked at Robin, who peered up at me from the ground. He looked as shocked as I felt, his brow furrowing as he took in the sight of the bloodstained sword first before meeting my gaze. “What in the heavens?” he began.
“I do not know,” I gasped. “I did not do...” ‘that,’ I added in my thoughts, but a cry of pain prevented me from speaking the word. My head filled with noise, jolts of agony cresting over my head from neck to crown and forcing the sword from my hands. It fell to the ground with a clang as I dropped to my knees and only faded when I found myself lying on my side. No matter how hard I tried, though, I could not move my limbs once I settled into place. I looked at Robin as he regarded me, his expression screaming of befuddlement and concern.
A set of footfalls preempted us from speaking. While I expected to see one of the sorcerers had gotten the better of us, the figure who stepped over the pile of bodies looked familiar in a way that made my pulse pick up in tempo again. Clad in a three-piece suit, with a gait that suggested he had been out on an evening stroll, the red-haired vampire who came into view grinned when he saw Robin and me both transfixed by his appearance.
“Ah, my namesake,” Patrick quipped, pausing a few feet shy of us. “And my darling Michael. I trust you’ll both forgive me for being late, but I’ve been busy. Not a simple thing, overseeing something of this magnitude, but at least I’ve kept you busy in the meanwhile.” He focused on me specifically. “Thank you for keeping my lover safe.”
“You and I have nothing,” Robin interjected. “You ensured that the moment you stabbed us in the backs.”
Patrick looked toward Robin, crouching in front of him. The way his smile faltered looked just as strange as the sober way he regarded him. “I never expected you to understand,” he said. “Nor do I anticipate you to believe me when I say I’ve never lied to you about how I love you. Unfortunately, it still seems love is not enough.”
Robin winced as if recognizing those words. The spark of remembrance prompted Patrick to smile wanly before turning deadly serious again. He lifted to a full stand and straightened out his suit jacket. “In that light,” he continued, “I also have the unfortunate burden of needing to borrow you, Michael. You have something in your head that I need out and I don’t have the time to be sentimental about it. Mother ensured that much.”
“You could stop this madness,” Robin said. “If you ever did truly love me, you would.”
“I have, but I can’t. All the world’s a stage and we must play our parts. Your part is to come with me.”
His head turned to line me in his sights again. As he smirked, I saw the truth of what lay in his heart, from the darkness inherent in it to the promise that this would only get worse. Something about it struck me as familiar, a fact that my mind could not yet engage, and neither did Patrick afford me the chance. Instead, he paced closer and stared at me.
“Do you mean to have your way with me as well?” I asked, managing the only act of defiance I felt capable of issuing.
“Oh, I have and I will, Peter, but for now you have a very specific set of instructions.” Patrick lowered onto one knee to look me in the eye. “Run, seer,�
� he said. “The dogs are about to have you for supper.”
He reached out and touched my head. I could not fight against the grip, nor could I control it when the urge to sleep overcame me, colliding into me with such force, I had no defense against it. My body settled on top of the bed of broken glass, the protests of my brother fading into the background before disappearing altogether. I had been left in the middle of London, at night, surrounded by over a dozen bodies with the blood of one on my hands.
And there was not a damned thing I could do about it.
Part Five
Setting the Stage
“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”
Stephen King, The Dark Tower
Chapter Eighteen
An indeterminate amount of time had passed – so much that I knew the night had progressed well past the initial hours of sunset and dawn had become an inevitability. When I opened my eyes to greet the aftermath of what had happened, I was surprised to find myself not lying on the concrete, surrounded by broken glass and bodies, but on a gurney in the middle of a hospital. Bright, florescent lights shone down on me, their assault vicious upon my eyes when I first peered at them. Groaning, I attempted to shift away from it.
This is when I discovered the handcuffs around my wrists.
They clattered against the metal bars of the cot upon which I lay. What little lucidity I had already managed leaped into full awareness while my attention shot to the restraints, surveying one before I glanced toward the other. Frowning, I gave them a tug and sighed at the way they held, pulling harder with the next attempt and still, unable to dislodge them.
Taking stock of myself, I discovered that I had been changed out of my dirty suit, into an unflattering hospital gown, with a blanket covering my bottom half. My pulse still hammered in my ears, and the dull layer of the world coupled with the necessary breaths I took suggested I had retained a human form. While the fact that I had been cuffed to a hospital cot caused me enough panic, the absence of both my clothing and my weaponry added to the sentiment.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered, when I realized what must have happened.
Vivid waves of memory recreated the final moments before I had lost consciousness. I remembered being surrounded by personnel from the Order, about to engage them in conflict when they all had dropped dead around me. While that alone would have made a damning discovery for the police, the thought of a bloodstained sword bearing my fingerprints added another layer of incriminating evidence. The human authorities had gotten ahold of me first, I reckoned, and that meant this situation had gotten even more complicated.
I chanced a glance around at my surroundings while attempting to reason my way out. While I did not see a policeman immediately, I had no doubt somebody – be they a detective or some sort of constable – would be waiting to question me. I had been secured inside a bay in the emergency room and while I had been stripped and examined, they had not determined if they should admit me yet. Shadows passed on the other side of the curtain which had been pulled shut in front of me and through a small gap, I saw nurses, but nobody official. “They have my sword,” I murmured, imagining it in an evidence locker.
First things first, I told myself. I could retrieve the sword later. For now, I needed to get free.
Squinting at the first handcuff, I took a deep breath to calm myself, clearing my mind of any further thought and focusing on the keyhole. When the locking mechanism released the latches, I rotated my wrist until I was able to free it from the jaw of the cuff. I repeated the process with the second restraint and, once I had rid myself of them, I came to a slow, tentative stand. Nobody from outside looked to be headed in my direction, and even if they were, I prepared myself to fight my way through civilians if needs be.
Fortunately, I had found the correct window of opportunity to leave.
Peering out from the curtain, I saw a doctor nearby fixated on a computer screen and sighed when I thought about how recently that had been me. After glancing the other way, I slipped out from the bay and strode quickly toward the back of the emergency room, noticed only by another patient on my way to an adjoining corridor. Nobody else saw me, until I ventured closer to the exit leading into the rest of the hospital. “Can I help you, sir?” the man asked, walking up behind me.
I pivoted to line him in my sight, seeing a man in his early thirties, but several inches shorter than me with a much heavier build. I frowned at the scrubs he wore, figuring him to be an intern, and must have led him to believe I did not understand him when I refused to respond. “Have you wandered away from your bed?” he asked again, and right as I saw a spark of recognition in his eyes, I knew better than to let him get another word in, lest he warn others that a prisoner had escaped.
“I need something to wear,” I said, ignoring his question. He yelped when I brought a hand to his head, but froze as I wove into his thoughts, forging a tentative psychic bond in an effort to compensate for the lack of vampire suggestion. “Do you have a coworker with roughly my height and build?”
He nodded, slowly, and while he was not enthralled, I had enough control over him to compel him into the employee locker room. I watched while he pointed at one of the lockers and forced him to stay in place when he started to issue protest. “What the fuck did you do to me, mate?” he asked. “Some mind control bullshit or something?”
I strode up to the metal door I had been directed toward and focused on the padlock keeping it shut. “I am improvising,” I said. “Apologies, but I have much greater concerns than staying here.” Squinting at it, I felt for the mechanisms inside of it, using my telekinesis to spring this lock open as well. Once the door had been freed, I opened it and stole the collection of clothing from inside. “Do what you must, but for fifteen minutes, you are not allowed to yell or move from this spot.”
The intern groaned his disapproval, but remained exactly as I had commanded. Removing the hospital gown, I paused only for a moment to study the stitches on my chest before dressing myself with the jeans and long-sleeve shirt that had been contained in the locker. While the fit was not exact, it made due, and even though the shoes were a size too large, I managed in them enough to slip out of the employee area and away from the emergency room. A gift shop clerk allowed me to liberate a pair of sunglasses and one of the staff surrendered a coat to me. By the time I emerged from within, I looked as unrecognizable as a man of my stature was ever going to.
Police cars idling outside prompted me to walk away from them. I maintained a brisk stride, burying my hands inside the pockets of my stolen coat while attempting to look as nonchalant as possible. The sun had already started to rise and while I had freed myself from the distraction of vampire hunger, I still felt a rumble in my stomach demanding attention. Looking out for any policemen, I wandered closer to the nearest Underground station and compelled enough money from one of the commuters for transport and breakfast. Once I had escaped the East End, I told myself, I would finally eat.
The sun had well since crested the horizon when I found a small café inside which I could disappear. The man tending the register permitted me the use of their cordless phone and as I drank a cup of coffee, I stared at the keypad, attempting to remember phone numbers. The first person I called was Julian Reichlin. His phone rang and at first, I thought I had been off a number or two, until his voicemail engaged.
After the tone, I left a message. “Hello, Julian, this is Peter,” I said in as low of a volume as I could. “Listen, I know your superiors are having a fit attempting to find me, but I am not the one responsible for killing all of those people. Regardless of whatever you are told, I need you to believe that this is true.” Stealing a glance around to ensure nobody had been listening, I continued. “Patrick has made his next move and kidnapped my brother. I need your help to find him. I will not be at this phone much longer, but I will be in touch again as soon as I am able.”
Hanging up, I dialed the next number, in the hope I migh
t be able to rouse Evie Stanton from her sleep. It rang and likewise, clicked over to voice mail. As I listened to her message, I frowned and ended the call, deciding against leaving an incomplete explanation for someone I did not know I could trust. As the day wore on, I avoided listening to the news and stayed in places that offered me obscurity. Picking at a sandwich in the dark corner of a pub, I laid out all the pieces of the mess I found myself in.
Patrick had me trapped. He held Monica in his possession, whom he had been using to manipulate me, and whatever poison he had been filling her head with, she had become all-too-willing to help orchestrate his bidding. I frowned, wanting desperately to break through the shifting walls keeping us apart, but I had long since begun to feel impotent. Simply knowing that she had done something to my mind – hearing the echo of Robin’s warning that she had been using Flynn to spy on us – threatened to make my disposition sink.
Unfortunately, this also forced me to confront an uncomfortable reality. At best, I had started as Robin’s accessory, in the Order’s eyes, and had now become a killer. Damning clues had been planted, making it difficult for me to even argue our case before the eyes of the Council and now, I sat in the Order’s back yard with nowhere to go and nobody to help. Even if I was not inclined to muse on my woes, I had to assume Patrick knew I was working with Evie Stanton, which made her susceptible to any number of threats.
Both desperation and guilt finally fueled my decision to attempt calling Evie back.
This time, she answered the phone on the third ring. “If your name is not Peter,” she blurted brusquely, “Then call my assistant to schedule an appointment.”
I perked an eyebrow. “Have you been expecting me?” I asked.
She sighed, the sound laden with exasperation. “Assumed I would be hearing from you considering you fell off the map and reappeared in such spectacular fashion. Where are you?”
