Killer

by Francine Pascal

  Gaia will be all right now, Ella told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut. And that meant her own life hadn’t been a waste. No. She’d salvaged it.

  The man pulled the trigger.

  RETURNING TO CONSCIOUSNESS WAS usually like surfacing after a deep-sea dive, rising up out of the still, dark weightlessness and returning to a world of noise, light, and motion. But this time, as Gaia’s limbs began to stir, there was a noticeable absence of movement around her. It was as if the whole world had been silenced.

  Alone Again

  Am I dead?

  Maybe the man in the ski mask had gotten the best of her, and now her life was over. But if that were so, then why did she feel pain? Now just wasn’t the best time for things to end. She still needed to confront her father. And then there wasSam. There wasso much unfinished business with him, some things she needed to say. And what about Ella? She seemed to have everything sorted out, but didn’t she still need Gaia—

  A sharp twinge wrenched Gaia’s back.

  She rolled onto her side. As her nerve endings slowly returned to their normal state, she began feeling the pull of gravity again and the rough, weathered edges of the pavement underneath her body. The muffled whoosh of distant cabs hummed in her ears. Streetlamps glowed orange from behind her eyelids. Gaia was still earthbound.

  With a heavy groan she opened her eyes. For a moment she expected another round of blows.

  But nothing happened. The man in the mask seemed to have disappeared. He could have easily finished her off if he had wanted to, but for some reason, she was spared.

  Like a camera coming into focus, Gaia’s eyesight sharpened as blurry forms took on crisp edges. There was a black swatch rising out of the ground that morphed into the leg of a park bench. A broad patch of gray curving into the edge of the fountain. A blotch of pearly white molding itself into the form of a hand.

  A hand.

  Gaia propped herself up as her eyes followed the hand to a wrist. He must’ve beat up Ella, too. Her eyes continued to travel farther up the broken arm to the shoulder. Ella had been knocked out. A deep moan rattled in Gaia’s chest as she willed herself upright. It could be bad. She was going to have to bring Ella to the emergency room.

  But then she saw the blood. It had poured into a thick black pool around Ella’s head, almost like a halo. It was more blood than anyone could stand to lose. And then there was the bullet hole. A clotted black circle in the middle of her forehead.

  Ella was dead.

  Gaia didn’t have to be conscious when the scenario unfolded to know what had happened. No, the aftermath seemed to spell it out clearly. Ella had stepped in when the man wasgoing to kill Gaia. She had sacrificed her own life to save Gaia’s.

  The assasin’s words rang through Gaia’s head: “Ella Niven sent me to kill you.”

  But somehow, it didn’t even matter that Ella had sent him. That had been the old Ella: a lost, confused, and tortured soul. That had been before she and Gaia had reached an understanding. In the end, Ella had redeemed herself. She had been a true friend and ally after all.

  Gaia collapsed beside Ella and rested her head on her lifeless shoulder as convulsive sobs rocked the very core of Gaia’s soul. She was drowning in waves of gratitude for Ella’s sacrifice and overwhelming grief for her loss. And shame. Just yesterday she had actually debated whether or not she was going to step in and help Ella while she was fighting for her life. And now, twelve hours later, a dark, black void was opening in Gaia’s chest, right next to the spaces that her mother and Mary used to fill.

  Now there was a new one, and it belonged to Ella.

  IT WAS ALMOST MORNING.

  Nice Dream

  As Sam walked through the small-scale Arc de Triomphe at the Fifth Avenue entrance of Washington Square Park, he could feel the darkness lifting. The black outlines of buildings against the sapphire sky began to take on color as the light of dawn slowly seeped across the city. The winds had come to a standstill, and the temperature had risen to humane levels. Weatherwise, it seemed like it was going to be a pretty nice day.

  Sam’s feet moved slowly, still refusing to bring him back to his dorm for some badly needed sleep. His head felt thick and heavy, fogged over, and hunger gnawed at him relentlessly. But he had no desire for sleep or food. The only thing in this world that he wanted was Gaia—and she was gone.

  He wondered where she was right now, what she was doing. She was probably sleeping, like most normal people at this hour. He wished for her a deep, restful sleep . . . and maybe a few pleasant thoughts that included him.

  That will never happen.

  But wherever Gaia ended up in life, he wished the best for her. He wanted her to be happy and well taken care of, to be surrounded by people who loved her. He wanted her to feel secure. He would have gladly provided all of those things for her. But he couldn’t. He could only pray that Gaia would find someone who could.

  Sam’s thoughts seemed to exist outside himself. His mind was moving in directions he hadn’t imagined possible. He knew he’d meet someone else someday and maybe even settle down and get married—and he might even be content—but it would never be the same. No matter what life would bring him, he would always know that he had glimpsed perfection. . . . He had seen what love really could be. And once you’d had a taste of that and lost it, you could never be truly happy again.

  So he trudged on, past the fountain. Maybe they’d meet up again someday, when they were old and widowed, when they had most of their lives behind them. By then Gaia would be ready to forgive him. And that old spark would still be there. And they could finally be together. Just like they were meant to be. They would spend the rest of their days laughing and feeding pigeons and playing chess. . . .

  A fantasy. A nice pipe dream from the movies. But it was all he had.

  Tears

  GAIA RESTED HER HEAD ON ZOLOV’S chess table. Slowly energy pumped back into her tired limbs. Dawn was finally breaking, and soon the city would be stirring to life. Soon students would be shuffling off to classes, storefronts would raise their scrolling metal gates, cabs would be hailed and buses taken to offices all around Manhattan. But for the moment the streets were empty and still.

  There was no greater isolation than feeling alone in a huge city before sunrise. It had a way of making you feel like the last person on earth.

  In a way, Gaia wished she was.

  If there were no one else, then there was no danger of losing someone ever again. If she was the only person left on the planet, Gaia would automatically know that she was destined to be alone for the rest of her life. And that was okay. Once you knew what you were up against, you could deal with it. It was the continual hope of getting close to someone that killed you.

  A band of golden light rose up from behind the buildings that flanked the park. A deep sob wrenched itself loose from where Gaia had buried it and rose up to her throat. A few tears stung her eyes, and soon they flowed freely. Anguished cries shuddered through her body, dredging up years of pain and loneliness, anticipating the bleakness of years to come. There were tears lost for her mother and betrayal of her father. Sorrow for Mary. Confusion over an Ed she no longer recognized. Regrets for Ella. Anger over her messed-up life.

  And Sam. Sam Moon. The Boy That Never Happened . . .

  There was so much to cry for, Gaia didn’t think she’d ever be able to stop.

  SAM WAS ABOUT TO TAKE A RIGHT at the dog run and head back to his dorm, but at the last second he changed his mind. He decided to head to the chess tables instead. Maybe he was being a masochist by surrounding himself with places that reminded him of Gaia, but at the moment he needed something—anything—that could make him feel close to her.

  Mirage

  The sun was finally in the sky, bathing the park in the orange-yellow glow of early morning sunlight. Morning was his favorite time, when the day was ripe with possibility. No matter what was going on in your life, morning had a way of giving you hope.

  Sam
walked on, through the children’s playground toward the southwest corner of the park. He would’ve liked to have shared a morning like this with Gaia, just sitting quietly with her while watching the sun rise. . . .

  Stop it. Just stop it . . . , Sam scolded himself. You can’t go through the rest of your life dreaming of someone you’ll never have. . . .

  And then, as if his mind were rebelling, Sam saw Gaia sitting there.

  Where she always should have been.

  She was sitting at Zolov’s table, with her head resting in her arms, her beautiful hair sliding off the side of the table in a tangled blond waterfall. Her shoulders were shaking, as if she were crying.

  Twenty-four hours without sleep, and this is what you’re reduced to—hallucinations.

  Sam blinked hard and shook his head, but when he opened his eyes again, she was still there, bathed in golden sunlight.

  First on the agenda was to sleep. Then he’d check himself into the psych ward at St. Vincent’s. But maybe, before anything else, he’d enjoy the mirage for just a little while longer.

  Hunger

  GAIA TILTED HER DAMP FACE toward the sun, the bright light washing every tree and branch with gold. In the distance the figure of a man approached, crowned with ginger-colored curls. Gaia’s heart throbbed in her chest.

  Sam. Sam. Sam . . .

  She lifted her head off the table and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. She watched his strong arms swinging gently at his sides as he drew nearer. If this was a dream, then that was fine. Because she desperately wanted those arms around her, holding her, shutting out the rest of the world. Only those armscould provide solace. She gazed at his soft lips. She saw the raw pain of his heart reflected in those hazel eyes. At that moment she wanted, more than anything, to wash it away. Because it would take her own pain with it.

  WHAT SAM SAW WAS NOT MADE UP of dreamlike vapor but the rounded, three-dimensional contours of flesh and bone. Instead of floating or evaporating into an ethereal mist, she seemed to be obeying all laws of the physical world. This Gaia before him wasn’t a ghost or a hallucination. She was for real.

  Connected

  Their gazes locked.

  With blood rushing in his ears, Sam stood before her. For a brief instant he reached out to touch her on the shoulder but hesitated at the last second. He held his hand suspended in the air, then let it drop by his side.

  “Ella’s dead,” she whispered. “She’s over by the fountain. . . .”

  The words barely registered. Sam didn’t know what to feel. He only knew he didn’t want to look in the direction of the fountain or ask what had happened. He didn’t want to contribute to Gaia’s pain. Now was not the time for questions. It was time for explanations.

  “Gaia, I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for everything—”

  “It’s all right, Sam.”

  “Please just listen,” he begged. Before he even realized what he was doing, Sam was holding her firmly by the shoulders. This time she didn’t curse at him or resist. This time she didn’t pull away. She was rising up from the table. She wasreturning hisembrace. Tenderly his finger grazed the long, graceful curve of her neck and slowly tilted up her chin so that she stared directly into his eyes.

  “Gaia, I love you.”

  GAIA FOUGHT TO SHUT OUT THE WORDS, to not let them seep in, but it was too late. They had worked their way inside her, filling the wounded cracks of her soul. She tried to tell herself that it couldn’t be true or that it would only lead to heart break in the end, but her heart wouldn’t allow it. And to her amazement, Gaia found herself pressing herself against Sam. Wrapping her arms around his neck. Asthough she knew exactly what to do. As though she had done this a thousand times before.

  The Moment

  “I love you, too,” she answered. The words felt strange on her tongue. But they were the right words, the ones she had longed to say.

  Sam swallowed hard, his hazel eyes smiling down on her. His strong arms seemed to speak for him, tightening around her waist and holding her so close against him, it was almost as if he never would let go.

  With timid fingers Gaia explored the line of Sam’s jaw, the sensuous curve of his mouth. Slowly she withdrew her hand and pressed her lips to his. The heat of his touch flooded her senses. For a long, slow moment she stayed there, breathing in Sam’s warmth.

  Whatever had come between them in the past had been obliterated. The only thing that mattered now was that they were together.

  So this is love, Gaia thought, losing herself in another blissful kiss.

  It was like coming home.

  TOM

  Holed up here in this hospital room, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the past. I’ve had time to reflect on how I could have changed it. This is very dangerous for someone in my profession, but sometimes the mind works independently of the will—no matter how much training a person may have had.

  I’ve come to realize that until the time I was a young adult, three separate forces conspired to make me into the person I am today. These forces molded me, and, in the process, they took the two people I love most.

  The first was my mother. More specifically, it was her devout Roman Catholicism. She taught me that piety, above all, would save my life. And I believed her. She instilled in me a desire to serve something greater than myself. So by serving my country, by helping to rid the world of criminals and terrorists and extortionists of the lowest kind, I truly believed

  I would be serving God. It sounds ridiculous to me now. Even worse, it sickens me. Because I know that all the while, I was just serving myself. I was patting myself on the back for all the terrible secrets I kept and all the horrors I witnessed. I was allowing myself to feel superior. I was a hypocrite.

  Which leads me to the second force. My brother. My twin. Loki never had the same problem with hypocrisy that I did. He rejected my mother’s faith from the start and decided that he would live his life according to one set of laws: his own. And in this crucial way, despite the countless number of lies he has told, he has always been a more honest person than I have ever been or ever will be—because he is honest with himself.

  Understanding this about him made me an expert in my field. Few people are more dangerous than those who are completely at peace with their own motives and desires. I knew this about Loki intuitively, from the time we were children. His mind fascinated me, because it was so similar and yet completely alien . . .

  In any event, the third force, which is in some ways the most powerful, is also the most difficult to define.

  It is my loneliness. Or no . . . maybe that’s the wrong word. It’s my self-imposed solitude. I’ve always been an outsider, an observer. I’ve never truly belonged anywhere—which, as I understand it, is rare for a twin. But Loki and I were islands; besides, our family was never known for its intimacy. The only exception was that brief, blissful period when Katia, Gaia, and I were together. As one. And when that ended, I slipped back into my old skin. I wore the shell that keeps the rest of the world at bay.

  And it has nearly destroyed me and everything I care about.

  The protective solitude has kept me from interfering directly with Gaia’s life over these past few months. Of course, this isn’t what I’ve told myself. No, I justified my distance by the empty belief that I kept her safe from danger, that contact with me would have placed her life in jeopardy. I rationalized my own behavior to the point where I could only trail Gaia around like a voyeur. And was I helping her in any way? Was I protecting her? Somehow, she only slipped farther into Loki’s orbit . . . into the plans he has for her. Plans that I can’t even begin to imagine. That I won’t allow myself to imagine.

  But the period of solitude is over. I won’t let the forces of my past control me any longer. I’m going to be the father I never was. Or I’m going to die in the process.

  LOKI

  Nearly two decades of waiting are finally drawing to a close.

  I never had you, Katia, but
I will have our daughter.

  Yes. Our daughter.

  I no longer think of Gaia as having anything to do with Tom. Genetically, he and I are one and the same. That is all that matters. In areas of consciousness, of personality, of all the intangibles that go into making a human being’s individuality . . . Gaia is far more my own than my twin’s. I’ve studied her from afar; I’ve interacted with her on an intimate level; I’ve watched her transform from a lost little girl to a self-assured woman.

  And she has passed the final test.

  Ella is dead. Whatever delusions she may have suffered in the last moments of her life, whatever misguided attempts she may have made to give Gaia a sense of peace and closure, she will always represent one thing to that girl: Deceit. I will make sure of it. I have made sure of it. There is nothing left for Gaia here. It is time to make my final and decisive move—to take her away from this city, to take her away from her past . . . to reinvent her.

  Katia, if you could only glimpse what I have in store for our precious daughter, it would change your life. Because Gaia is indeed far more special than either of us ever dreamed. She is the future. Not just my own. She is everyone’s future.

  The vision is nothing more than a sketch at this point, nothing more than a vague collection of ideas and plans. But it will become a reality. Once you tip a boulder over a cliff, it doesn’t stop rolling. It gathers speed and momentum. It becomes a force unto itself, independent of that first light push.

  All my life, Katia, I’ve dreamed of leaving a lasting legacy. I’ve dreamed of an accomplishment that will be remembered a thousand years hence. And I’ve never lacked the desire to make it happen. I’ve only lacked the right tool. But now . . .

  No—it’s too impersonal to refer to Gaia as a “tool.” She defies description. You already know that, though. One day, my love, history might invent the means to categorize Gaia. But for now, no such term exists.