by John Corwin
Whitney, her lips set in a thin line, nodded.
Marissa spoke up after a moment of stunned silence. "Maybe they met the same fate as Tyrone."
"True. Our problem might already be solved."
Someone rapped on the conference room door.
"Come," Andre said.
Dara poked her head in. "I've got a couple of independents wanting to speak with you. They say it's super urgent."
"Independents? Who?"
"Phillip and Kate. Didn't give me their last names."
Andre hadn't heard from them in years. Not since Kate had left her position as head arbiter of the Denver branch after a heated argument with him over policy and control.
"Bring them in."
Kate entered a moment later wearing her trademark brown. Everything about her was always brown, quite possibly even her underwear. Andre knew she was a strange bird, but had only questioned her competence as a leader once. That had been enough to cause her departure.
"Thank you, Grand Arbiter Andre," Kate said, bowing alongside her seeker, Phillip.
"To say I'm surprised at this visit would be an understatement," Andre said.
Kate glanced around the room at the assortment of advisors Andre had organized. She apparently wasn't prepared to speak in front of them all. He didn't care.
"What do you want?" he asked. "I'll refuse you a private audience so don't bother asking."
Kate's brown eyes hardened for a second. She sighed. "I have important information. In truth, I'd hoped to have a prisoner for you, but we believe that he perished in an escape attempt. I'd like to ask for reinstatement with restored privileges for me and my associates in exchange for this information."
"I'll grant no such thing," Andre said. "Unless your news is truly earth shattering, you're wasting my time." He noticed healing bruises on Phillip's face and the slump in Kate's shoulders. He resisted the temptation to peek in their minds. Both were far too experienced for him to escape detection. "I'll grant you reinstatement on a probationary basis. If you execute your duties faithfully and successfully, I'll consider raising your ranks on merit."
Kate looked at Phillip. He nodded.
"We had a prisoner you were looking for. We had Lucas Fowler."
A murmur rose in the room.
Kate waited for it to die down, continued. "We were familiar with his crimes from our contacts, and his status as a raw executor. Phillip discovered him by chance one night when Lucas ended his last victim."
"By chance, you say?" Andre knew better. Phillip had been scouting for new initiates. Apparently, Kate had set up shop in the Atlanta area and shed her mid-western roots. Mikhail was right. The independents were growing too independent, flouting the Covenant and trying to recruit from the general populace. He would tear the truth from Kate at some point, but not now.
Kate looked at her feet. "Yes, Grand Arbiter. We tricked Lucas and were able to briefly imprison him. What you may find hard to believe is how he escaped."
"He entered the Blight."
Her head jerked up. "You already know?"
"We witnessed him in action today."
Phillip and Kate looked at each other, their eyes wide. "Sir, he somehow escaped our net just hours ago. He didn't seem particularly adept at hopping, but somehow he got past ten experienced seekers."
"Where were you?"
"Southwest Colorado."
"Colorado?" His mind calculated rough distances. "What time precisely?"
Kate looked up and to the left. "No more than five hours ago."
"Five hours, twenty minutes, to be exact," Phillip said.
"Impossible," Marissa said. "That's almost the exact time we placed him at the cemetery, give or take a few minutes."
Phillip looked baffled. "The trip to Atlanta took us four hours of continuous hops."
"Amazing," Thomas said. "Can you imagine the possibilities? Instant point-to-point hopping over such distances?"
The room erupted into multiple competing conversations. Andre marinated the idea in his head for a moment. Could it be true? He held up a hand and the murmurs grew silent.
Andre turned to his left. "He ended up at his parents' graves. Thomas, you of all people know exactly how hopping works. Is it possible to have a location so embedded in your mind that you could hop to it?"
"I wouldn't dare try. Visualization may be only a part of hopping. It's possible you need more mental power or some other hidden ability we've never identified to do it."
Marissa said, "Some seekers are more adept at hopping than others. Some arbiters have much greater control over the mind than others. All Scions vary in ability. Some are stronger; some have better vision, and so forth. Whatever mechanism allows seekers to hop must be stronger in Lucas Fowler than others. The problem is how little we understand our own abilities."
Something occurred to Andre. "All this aside, our fugitive is probably very much alive. The fact that he has again hopped out of range would indicate he can manage these long-distance hops. What we're overlooking is the one person who can help us find him no matter where he is."
Marissa held up a finger. "The rogue arbiter."
"Precisely. Rather than chase Lucas, we should put all our cognitive abilities into locating the arbiter with the link to him."
"I had almost identified him," Kate said. "He is accompanied by a seeker, because his signal strength grew stronger in surges, which indicated he was tracking Phillip's Blight scars."
"An experienced arbiter. You're sure the arbiter is a male?"
"Definitely. The trace was too weak, however, to discover his identity."
Andre turned to Thomas. "Compile a list of all independent arbiters. We've been so busy chasing Lucas that we abandoned that tact."
"I believe the task force already has the list," Thomas said. "I don't know how far they've gotten."
"Get a copy. I want to start our own investigation."
Marissa furrowed her brow. "Andre, the council voted that all truthing sessions would be conducted by the task force."
"The stakes have risen considerably. Mikhail has his own agenda, and I won't let him get a head start on it."
"Is there any way to track Alexia?" Thomas asked. "She's probably still with Lucas, wherever they went."
"No. I left her unattached. In hindsight that decision might look shortsighted, but how could any of us foresee what would happen?"
"Maybe Alexia knew. She already knew about the cemetery before any of us."
"That raises another important item. Who told Mikhail about Alexia? More importantly, who told him about her abilities?"
Andre noticed a hint of eye contact between Marissa and Thomas. The others in the room let their eyes wander the other occupants. The time for games was over.
"I want everyone present to undergo a truthing session, except Kate and Phillip. I want to know if someone inadvertently or purposefully leaked information to Mikhail."
Marissa's eyes widened. "Grand Arbiter, you can't possibly believe someone here betrayed our trust."
"It was Lucinda," Whitney said. "She can't keep her mouth shut."
Thomas nodded. "I agree. Lucinda's been talking non-stop. There's no need to put us all through truthing."
"Marissa, I want you to personally handle this. Put Lucinda through a deep session. Make her understand she can't run her mouth around the Statists without consequence."
"Why we ever let her sit in on these meetings is a mystery," Whitney said. "She can't be trusted to keep her mouth shut."
Andre slid his eyes and caught Whitney's attention. She gulped a quick breath and looked away. He held up his hand again as the room descended into individual conversations. He didn't have to probe anyone to pick up the sense of relief spreading across the group. Truthing was unpleasant in every aspect.
"This drama is pointless," Marissa said to Andre. "Who cares how Mikhail found out? I want to wrap my mind around that rogue arbiter and watch him suffer. I want permission to find Adam. Maybe i
t's not too late to save him."
Andre sympathized. Losing an attached member of an arbiter's team was emotionally devastating. Time, training, and conditioning formed a powerful bond. "I can't allow that. We're pressed for resources right now."
"Please, Andre."
"Now is not the time for personal vendettas, arbiter. Do as I say."
Her eyes became stony. "Fine."
Despite Andre's raised hand, the noise level hadn't subsided. He blasted a mental command for quiet in all directions. Chaos ended in abrupt silence.
"Thomas, I want you to draw up assignments for finding this rogue arbiter. Kate, I want you to send our arbiters the signal imprint you picked up from the arbiter. If we catch any of his transmissions in our net, we can back trace him."
"I didn't catch enough of his signal for a positive identification," Kate said.
"It's better than nothing. Thomas, I suggest starting with the list of independent arbiters and dispatching a full team to interview each one."
Thomas typed on his laptop. "An arbiter, executor, and seeker?"
"Yes. Best not to skimp on this. When we find the rogue, I don't expect him to give up easily. Do you have a ballpark figure on the number of arbiters?"
"Thirty or so. I can get ten teams ready in a couple of hours." Thomas glanced at his computer screen and grimaced. "Actually, we're short an executor now." He looked at Marissa with a trace of sadness. "Make that nine teams."
Marissa clenched her fists and looked away.
After everyone had left the room, Andre opened his laptop and accessed the central database with the list of independent arbiters. He scrolled down the names until he reached the one he was looking for. A keystroke deleted the record. Since all the laptops accessed the same information from a central database, the name would no longer show up on the lists.
Andre sighed. This operation was running efficiently. Too efficiently. To protect everything he'd worked for, delay was his only option.
Chapter 29
Alexia felt a mix of sorrow and dread at the spectacle of Lucas's dead parents roaming their old neighborhood. He moved to touch them but recoiled at the last second and dropped to his knees. His father, James, roamed away from the spot, vanishing deeper into the dead city. She'd heard tales of ghosts haunting the places where they'd died. Apparently these particular spirits or whatever they were could go anywhere. Maybe they returned to the spot looking for some clue as to where they were and where their loved ones had vanished to.
"They don't see anyone but themselves," Lucas said, sitting on the sidewalk across the street from his former home. "It's driving them insane."
The miniature voice of a singing child echoed down the street. The lyrics started soft, grew louder, and exploded into shrieks. Alexia looked down the sidewalk. A little girl in blonde pigtails was skipping in their direction. She was singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" like an emo kid on crack. The glazed look in the girl's big blue eyes sent a shudder down Alexia's spine. Was this what she had to look forward to after death? She'd consigned herself to an early grave by accepting Andre's offer, and this had to be Hell.
Lucas stared at the girl. His lips moved but no sound emerged. He stood up to get out of her way as she blindly came right for him. He moved a fraction too late. Her last skip took her right into him. The girl's form smeared and stretched before popping loose from Lucas like chewing gum. Lucas gasped. The girl stopped and turned.
"Mommy?" She extended her arms and flailed like a blind person groping for a handhold.
Lucas dodged. She pivoted toward him. Called again. Her blue eyes went wide with hope. Alexia's stomach sickened at the sight. Lucas grabbed her and they ran down the street, leaving the little horror behind. Alexia sensed another presence and looked up. A myna bird glided overhead. Lucas slowed and the bird landed on his shoulder. It cocked its head toward Lucas's and laughed.
"You'd better not crap on my shoulder," Lucas said, staring into the bird's eyes. After a moment, he nodded and directed Alexia down a street.
"Where are we going?"
"To the place this all started."
They trudged on, avoiding the roaming spirits. The darkened alleys were full of them, so many in some areas that they glommed together. Alexia began to notice differences in clothing. Some wore attire from decades past. She spotted one woman wearing a dress that might have been fashionable during the Civil War. The anachronisms puzzled her. The city here looked virtually the same as in Normal. If this was some sort of purgatory or afterlife, why did so many inhabitants seem to be from different time periods than the modern city?
"This place doesn't make sense," Alexia said. "Did you notice the way some people are dressed?"
Lucas flinched like abruptly awaking from sleepwalking. "No."
"How could you not?"
"I've been trying to understand the bird."
Alexia raised an eyebrow. "You're not Snow White, you know."
Lucas coughed up a dry chuckle. "Maybe they understand this place."
Alexia noticed a soda machine in front of a convenience store. "I'm getting thirsty."
They approached the machine. Alexia reached into her pocket for change. She didn't have any. Lucas pried at the machine door but it wouldn't budge. Alexia tried to help but had no better luck.
"This should be easy," Alexia said, breathing hard. "I'm new to this whole Scion thing, but either of us should be able to pick up this machine and smash it on the ground."
"Something about this place is affecting us."
Lucas walked to a rotting fence and wrenched a board off it. He swung it at the plastic front of the drink machine. Shattered it. He dropped the board, grabbed the top of the machine and toppled it. The force of the impact jarred the lock loose and the door opened a crack. Together, they pried it open enough to grab two cans. Since electricity apparently didn't work in this dead zone, the sodas were warm. Alexia popped hers open and took a gulp. She spat it out and dropped the can.
Lucas took an experimental sip of his and did the same. "Tastes like filthy toilet water."
"This isn't good."
Alexia entered the convenience store. "Why we didn't just come in here first is beyond me." She grabbed a candy bar and tore it open, took a small bite. She might as well have eaten chalk. She tried a bag of chips. A doughnut. No taste, just a chalky, pasty texture that had her spitting it out as soon as it touched her tongue.
In the back of the store, Lucas opened the door of a defunct refrigerator and tried some bottled water. He gagged, cursed and flung the bottle across the store. "We're in trouble."
They walked outside. Lucas muttered something and pointed at the soda machine. It sat back in its original position, pristine and unbroken. Alexia realized the rancid aftertaste of the soda was completely gone.
"Even if we could stomach it, it wouldn't matter," she said. "Everything goes back to the way it was. If we don't get out of here, we'll be dead of dehydration in a couple of days." The only thing working in their favor now was the cooler climate.
Lucas had been tugging on car doors as they walked, but so far none had been unlocked. He tried the two that were in the parking lot and the door to a brown sedan opened. "Keys are in it," he said. He hopped in and twisted them. Nothing happened. He got out and slammed the door.
"Even if it worked, wouldn't it just vanish out from under us after a while?" Alexia asked.
"I didn't think of that. At Sixty miles an hour it would be painful if the car vanished." He managed a weak chuckle.
"Something must be driving the cars on the road," Alexia said, as they gazed at the stop-motion traffic. Stationary, driverless cars jammed the road. Every few seconds they would jump forward several feet without actually rolling there. It was disconcerting to say the least.
After a few more wistful looks at the car, Lucas motioned her on and they continued their walk. An hour later they reached a familiar location. Alexia gasped. Club Dementia sat ahead. David Young paced before it. He scream
ed. He beat the brick wall with his fists. He yelled at the sky. Lucas approached and traced a circle with his finger on the wall next to the spirit. Alexia drew closer and noticed the design, a silver chain of infinity symbols. She'd seen this before, inscribed in several places at the Transcendist compound. Lucas showed her his ring.
"I found this ring after my family was murdered."
"I don't remember seeing this at the crime scene," Alexia said. She almost mentioned her thoughts about the crime scene at his house and how the murders looked terribly similar to the murders the ghouls were committing, but she needed him to keep a rational mind. Right now he had to be on the brink. His ring might be the missing link.
"It's visible in the Blight and here, I guess, but not Normal," Lucas said.
"For someone that was forced into this mess, you seem to know a lot."
"You remember Phillip?"
"The guy you left with right before two more ghouls showed up and tore apart your apartment complex?"
Lucas squeezed his eyes shut. "Did anyone die?"
"Of course. You and Phillip might have turned the tide. Instead, you took off, leaving us mere humans to deal with it."
"You're a Scion."
"Now I am. Not then. Where did you go with Phillip?"
"I'm not sure where, exactly, but it looked like the Midwest. Then he and a couple of executors locked me in an iron cage in a basement."
"He what?
"Some arbiter wanted to trace whoever was controlling me and trade us to the Transcendists for political favor."
"Tell me everything."
By the time he finished, she felt terrible for chasing him down like a rabid dog. At the same time, he scared her. He was emotionally unstable. Lucas didn't seem proud of his abilities. He was afraid of them. Alexia didn't blame him. What frightened her more were the inexplicable emotions she'd felt earlier when watching his near execution. She had no reason to feel the way she did about him.
Lucas gazed at the purple-hued sky. "I don't know how I ended up at the cemetery. I thought I needed to see where I was going."
