I was getting very, very tired of Armando’s shtick. Each of my aspects could be challenging in their own way, but none were so outright disobedient.
I shouldered the camera. “You did well, Arnaud. Thank you.”
“Thank you! I am pleased to hear it.” He hesitated beside the door as I opened it. “Could I … return to France now? And my family.”
I froze. “Return?”
“Yes, Étienne. I understand how important our work here was, and it was truly engaging. But my job, it is finished, correct? I could return now?”
“You want to … leave. Not be an aspect any longer?”
“If it would not be too much trouble.”
“I…” I’d never had an aspect want to leave, other than for a brief vacation. “Let me get back to you. I mean, I won’t keep you here against your will, but the camera isn’t completely finished yet. Maybe … maybe we could work out … for your family to come here … or for you to live part-time back in Nice?”
“Thank you,” he said.
I pulled the door shut, troubled. Wilson walked up, bearing a tray of much-needed lemonade. “Master Leeds,” he said. “I do need to talk to you about a small matter. Insignificant, really, but I don’t want you growing too distracted to…”
I took a long pull on a glass of lemonade, then slung the camera bag off my shoulder. “Would you pack this camera in the car for me, Wilson? I need to talk to Armando. I’ll make time to chat with you then, all right?”
I just … Sandra. I had to keep focused on Sandra.
Sandra had texted me.
I checked the phone again as I walked up toward Armando’s attic room. Nothing more from Sandra, just a few texts from J.C., complaining that his Uber driver had a “Gun-Free Zone” sticker on his car window.
As if that means anything, J.C.’s text said. You can’t simply “sticker” your way out of the Constitution, buddy.
It was followed by: And yeah, I just ate your doughnut.
I shook my head, knocking at the attic door. No response from Armando. Was he imposing “royal auditory sanctions” on me again? I pushed the door open, preparing myself to be shouted at. Armando claimed to be the rightful emperor of Mexico, and …
His room had been destroyed.
And there was blood on the walls.
THREE
Gouges in the plaster, like the claw marks of a feral beast. The bedding had been shredded. Stylish night photographs from cities around the world—Armando’s prize collection—lay in confetti on the floor.
And the blood. Sprays were flung across nearly every surface. Suddenly, I felt thoughts fading from my memory. Knowledge and expertise dispersed like smoke from a snuffed candle.
I’d first gained Armando about eight years ago, when working on a missing person case. A woman had vanished, but then continued to upload selfies with famous monuments—though the security footage showed she’d never been at any of them. I’d used Sandra’s technique, binge-reading about photo manipulation and imagining the information as a reservoir within me. I hadn’t consciously created Armando, no more than I’d consciously given any of the aspects personalities, but he’d been the result. In the early days, we’d joked about his claim to the throne of Mexico, just as I now joked with J.C.
I felt that reservoir leaking away like blood from my veins. I grew cold and stumbled backward, horrified by the scene of carnage inside his room. I couldn’t … I had to …
It was gone.
He was gone. I fell to my knees and let out a low moan that became a cry of agony. A breeze through the room’s open window blew scraps of torn photographs into the hallway around me.
Mi Won was the first to arrive. She gasped, but—ever the professional—went inside to assist anyone who might need her medical skills. The other aspects began arriving in a steady stream, gathering around me, though in that moment … in that moment they seemed to fade into the background. A group of shadows. Mere silhouettes.
“Master Leeds!” Wilson said, rushing up. He passed right through several of the aspects, then knelt beside me. “Stephen? Please. What is wrong?”
Slowly, I let my hands relax. I let out a long sigh, and felt a strange calm come over me. I had to keep control. That was … that was what Sandra taught me.
“Wilson,” I said, surprised at how even my voice sounded, “what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh, never mind that! Sir? What is wrong? Why did you cry out?” He peered into the room.
“What do you see?” I whispered.
“Sir? It looks like it always does. Empty guest room. The bed made with a yellow comforter, tucked in.”
“Pictures on the floor?” I asked.
“No, sir. Would you … like me to pretend there are?”
I shook my head.
“Sir, if I may say, you’ve been most strange lately. More, I mean. More than usual.” The elderly butler wrung his hands. Behind him, his niece stood in the mouth of the attic stairwell, looking at us uncertainly.
“Am I causing it?” Wilson asked.
“Causing it?” I asked, blinking.
“Because of … today, sir.”
“Today?”
“My retirement, Master Leeds. We’ve discussed it. Remember? It was going to be last month, but you asked me to stay on. But sir, today, I’m seventy today.”
“Nonsense. You can’t be…”
Retirement? We’d discussed it?
I could vaguely remember …
Mi Won left Armando’s room and shook her head. The other aspects brightened into full color again, and their worried chattering suddenly filled my ears. Ivy pushed through them, then stepped toward the room. Mi Won grabbed her arm.
“I’m sorry,” Mi Won said. “He’s gone.”
“What kind of gone?” Ivy demanded, then turned toward me. “Justin and Ignacio didn’t just go. They became something else, something terrible. It’s happening again, isn’t it, Steve?”
I hauled myself to my feet, using the wall for support. “I can’t … I can’t keep imagining you all right now. Go to your rooms. Everyone who isn’t on the mission. Ngozi, Ivy, Tobias.”
“Did you want me?” Chin—Chowyun Chin—asked. He was wearing sunglasses as always, no matter the time of day.
“Sandra was always fond of puzzles,” I said to him, “and so I might need to crack some computer codes. I want you and Audrey to stay ready and near her phone. But I think … I think I can only manage a few of you with me today. Please.”
“Sure,” Chin said. “You’ve got those new programs installed?”
I wiggled my phone. We’d been making enhancements.
“You cracked the screen?”
“Sorry.”
He sighed, but then—with the others—retreated. Fifty figures, each distinct, each a chunk of my mind. People with lives, pasts, families, passions. At times, it was just so much to track. Kalyani gave me a hug as she joined Rahul. Ivans gave me a fist bump. Oliver let me hold his stuffed corgi, which I did for an embarrassingly long time, before they finally left me.
I tried to imagine what this was like for them, discovering that for the first time in years, I was losing control. That Sandra had returned—a figure who to most of them was mere legend.
Wilson looked on, helpless, though his niece—Barb—was more visibly disturbed by it all. Ivy studied her, shaking her head.
He’s been training her for months now, I thought, remembering. Because he’s retiring. Leaving me.
“Wilson,” I said. “I … I realize—”
I cut off as I spotted something. The withdrawal of most of the aspects left a conspicuous figure standing in the hallway, holding a notepad. She was tall, Asian, and wearing a relaxed pantsuit. Jenny Zhang. The reporter.
I lurched toward her, shoving past Wilson and grabbing her by the shoulders. “How did you get in here!” I shouted, feeling betrayed, embarrassed. How dare she see me at my most vulnerable!
“You broke our
promise,” she snapped. “I need to get this down. For the book.”
“Steve?” Ivy said.
“What book?” I said to Jenny. “I didn’t give you permission to write a book! You’re trespassing!”
“Steve, I think she can see us.”
I froze, my eyes locked with Jenny’s. Then she turned and looked right at Ivy.
“Wilson,” I said, growing cold, “can you see the person I’m holding right now?”
“Master Leeds? Is it one of your aspects?”
“Can you see her?”
“No. Unless you wish for me to … to pretend?”
Oh hell.
“What did we do earlier today?” I said to Wilson. “Where did we go?”
“Sir? Barb and I drove you around a poorer section of town, and we stopped at an abandoned building. I must admit I was worried, though grateful you told me to stay close by. You stood in an empty room for a while, then came running out.”
I let go of Jenny, who straightened her jacket with an unperturbed air.
I put my hand to my head. It wasn’t possible. I wasn’t supposed to be crazy. The aspects … shielded me from that. They were insane, and I kept them organized. I … I could tell what was real.…
“Was Sandra real?” I asked Wilson.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “You’ve never questioned that before.… Master Leeds? This is caused by my leaving, isn’t it? I’m sorry. But sir, I just can’t keep doing this. Not after the case with that assassin, and then the fire last year. Barb, though, she’s excited to help you. She’ll be good at it, sir.”
I stood there until the sound of footsteps announced Tobias’s arrival. Ivy ran to him and whispered to him, and the old historian nodded, running a hand through his powder-white hair. Then he smiled.
“It’s all right,” he said. “He’s bound to be a little upset. Why, we’ve finally found Sandra!”
Ivy whispered something else, and Tobias glanced at Armando’s room, lips pursing grimly. Then he smiled again, walked over, and gripped me—gently but firmly—on the shoulder. “Strength, Stephen. Let’s pull through this. You can do it. You’ve always been able to do it.”
“Armando…” I whispered.
“It happened. We just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Focus. Sandra has returned.”
I looked to Ivy, who pointedly did not look at Armando’s room. “I think … I think maybe I’ve been wrong. You’re right, Steve. We need to find Sandra. Maybe she’s back for a reason; maybe someone up above is watching out for us.”
Nearby, Jenny was writing all of this down. How on Earth had I created her? And why?
“Wilson?” I asked, showing him my phone. “Yes, I know it’s cracked. Not that. The text.”
“Help,” he read, tilting his glasses and squinting. “And a sequence of numbers and letters. From … Sandra?”
I sighed in relief. So the text was real. Unless … unless Wilson was a hallucination too.
I couldn’t go down that particular rabbit hole. I had to believe I had at least that shred of sanity left.
“Where’s Ngozi?” I asked Ivy.
“Didn’t you see her back off? The sight of the blood … I think she’s getting some air.”
My forensic scientist was a germophobe who couldn’t stand the sight of blood. My brain was a very strange place sometimes.
“See if you can find her,” I said to Ivy. “I want her along. You, her, me, Tobias, J.C.—once he catches up.”
Ivy nodded and ran off.
“And me,” Jenny noted.
“Not you,” I said, walking toward the stairwell. Tobias walked with me and kept his hand on my shoulder, as if I were the frail old man, not him. We passed Barb and I looked her up and down. Short blonde hair, perky grin. So young. “I haven’t scared you off?” I asked.
“Honestly, this is really interesting,” she said. “You are so crazy.”
“Go start the car and wait for me.”
She ran off, and I looked back at Wilson. “Can she at least make lemonade?”
“My own recipe, sir. And I must say, she’s taken to it with acumen.” He hesitated. “Perhaps I could add another day or two—”
“No. This had to happen eventually, Wilson. You’ve given more than enough. More than anyone probably should have given.” I’d already made sure there was something nice in the bank for him—I’d done that years ago, and for some reason, he’d just kept on with me. Perhaps he was the crazy one.
I started down the steps with Tobias. From above us on the stairs, Wilson watched us go. “Sir,” he called after me. “If, for some reason, you aren’t fighting terrorists or finding teleporting cats tonight, I would love to have you at the party. My brother is hosting it.”
“A party?” I said, looking over my shoulder. “With real people?”
“The best kind, sir.”
“Yeah. I’ll pass. But thanks anyway.”
FOUR
I haven’t always been this bad about real people. It was only … what, a year and a half ago that I’d been going out on dates? All had been unmitigated disasters, but at least I’d tried.
Ivy claimed I unintentionally sabotaged those interactions. She had all kinds of theories as to why, none of them particularly flattering.
I found Audrey, Chin, and a few of the others in the game room. It was a place they could be around each other for mutual support in facing what was coming. Stormy was making drinks. Entering the room, I braced myself and tried to keep my focus. Sandra. Sandra would know how to help me.
To be honest, I’d been sliding for months now. Maybe years. But I could turn it around.
Near the bar, Audrey had her feet up on an ottoman, chewing on some Sugar Babies candies while watching cat videos on her phone. Ever since J.C. had gotten a phone, the rest had wanted one—except Harrison, the technophobe.
“Check it out,” Audrey said, showing me a cat meowing as its owner opened a can of food—then stopping abruptly every time the owner stopped. “I can’t get enough of this stuff.”
I just stood there, staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“We’re in the middle of a disaster,” I whispered. “Aspects are being corrupted, Audrey.”
“Yeah. Can’t decide if I’ll be the next to go, since I know too much, or if it would be more ironic for me to go last.”
“You were supposed to be—”
“Relax,” she said, showing me a piece of paper. “I cracked it. I needed a key to the cipher, which turned out to be the room number at the hotel where you two first met. With that plugged in, it didn’t take long. These are GPS coordinates.”
I took the paper with a relieved sigh. “Where is it?”
“City fairgrounds. There’s an outdoor performance tonight. Starts in a half hour.” Audrey checked her phone. “Right at sundown.”
That sounded like Sandra. I tucked the paper in my pocket, then turned to go.
“Hey,” Audrey said, “you think … maybe you can imagine me a shotgun or something?” She bit her lip. “In case, you know, this goes south? And … the nightmares come to…”
“That won’t happen.”
“And if it does?”
“Break into J.C.’s room.”
“And set off the inevitable booby traps? You know he has them. Even if we haven’t seen them, he has them.”
She was right. He probably had a minefield installed under the floor or something.
Audrey chuckled as Stormy brought her a mimosa, and I left, a bitter taste in my mouth. If Audrey was worried, that was very bad.
The halls of the mansion were oddly quiet, contrasting with the disturbance earlier. I didn’t pass a soul, human or imaginary, as I walked toward the door. The place felt so hollow, I almost worried that they’d all just … vanished on me. Then I heard Ivans shouting from the conservatory, where another group had gathered.
I tried calming myself with some deep breaths, and checked outside. I spotted Ivy and Ngo
zi near the far hedge. Ivy was very careful not to put her arm around Ngozi, but her posture was encouraging. Eventually, the two walked over.
Ngozi was still wearing a face mask and gloves, but she removed the mask as she stepped up to me. I always forgot how tall she was; she easily had five inches on me. She spoke with a lofty accent, Nigerian with a hint of her British education. “I’m sorry. I … panicked.”
“Can you handle this?” I asked.
“Yes. If you’re sure you need me.”
I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t be sure what this case would require—but I had a hunch. Things were never simple when Sandra was involved. And if we couldn’t find anything at the coordinates Sandra had sent, Ngozi was our best bet at investigating a possible crime scene.
“I am sure I need you,” I said. “But there might be a crowd at the fairgrounds. Are you going to freak out, like last time?”
“Depends. Is someone going to try to give me leprosy this time?”
“One person sneezed on you, Ngozi.”
“Did you hear that sneeze? Do you know how many germs the average uninterrupted sneeze can produce? Projected into the air, hanging like little mines, sticking to your face, your skin, infiltrating your system…” She shivered, then held up a gloved hand to interrupt my next complaint. “I can do it, Stephen Leeds. I will do it. This is … a special case.”
Ivy and Ngozi walked to the limo, which was still parked by the curb. Barb was polishing the hood ornament, but she’d left the back door open, in case aspects needed to enter. Tobias sat inside already, reading a thick book to keep his mind off our troubles. That made three. I could handle three.
Four, I thought, checking my phone. There was no response from J.C., so I texted him. Did you stop to catch a movie or something?
A response came shortly after. Stupid Uber stopped and picked someone else up, then drove the wrong direction. I finally managed to get out at Seventeenth and State.
I sighed. J.C., did you just climb in a random Uber?
… Maybe.
What were you thinking!
I’ve got my stealth suit on. They can’t see me. Figured I could head the right direction, then get out and take another.
Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds Page 21
