Gorgon

by Chloe Garner

  “That’s saying something,” Miranda answered. “Spake is… Well, he’s being Spake. In the library.”

  “Thank you,” Samantha said.

  “I’ll show the rest of your people to their rooms,” Miranda said. Samantha turned to walk backwards. “Jason and Kara together. Lange on his own. Isobel and Kelly with me to talk to Spake.”

  “What?” Lange asked. “I came here because you needed hands.”

  “I do,” Samantha said. “But I don’t need everyone to be there when I talk to Spake, and Kelly doesn’t need a room.”

  “Where is your husband?” Miranda asked. “I’d expected he would be one of these.”

  “He’s with Carter,” Samantha said. Miranda gave her a half-smile.

  “My condolences.”

  “I’m hoping we can get up here for him to meet you at some point,” Samantha said, but it was half-hearted at best. Miranda understood. She’d seen the politics clearly enough to know that neighbors didn’t really mean being neighborly. Spake had his region, Samantha had hers, and the fact that they weren’t at each others’ throats was an accomplishment big enough to leave well enough alone.

  “You’re always welcome,” Miranda answered, then started for the stairs. Samantha gave Lange a hard look and he wrinkled his nose at her as he followed Miranda. Jason seemed resigned enough and not in his element; he kept his mouth shut. Samantha turned.

  “The library is this way,” she said.

  “I knew a general, once, who alienated everyone around him because he thought it would make them work harder,” Isobel said. “You and your people take it to a completely different level.”

  “It comes with the job responsibilities,” Samantha said, opening the door to the library.

  Spake was standing on a stack of books taller than himself, peering at the wall.

  “Spake,” Samantha said.

  “I’m counting,” he answered.

  “Spake, I don’t know if you’ve met Kelly, the angel who’s been working with me, and this is Isobel. She’s human.”

  “Angel like a good person or angel like heavenly being?” Spake asked.

  “Harps and halos,” Samantha said, ignoring Kelly’s indignant reaction.

  “She looks like she has good teeth,” Spake said.

  “I haven’t checked,” Samantha said.

  “You found the one digging holes in my dirt,” Spake said.

  “Isobel found her,” Samantha said.

  “She’s on an island,” Isobel said.

  “Terrible business, digging holes on an island,” Spake said. “Always running from the water, but there’s no place to go.”

  “It’s probably muddy,” Isobel said. Spake jumped down off of the books, knocking them to the floor behind him with a clatter.

  “Exactly,” he said, holding a finger out at Kelly. “Exactly.”

  Isobel raised an eyebrow, but kept her thoughts to herself.

  “I heard the circus was coming,” Spake said.

  “They’re here,” Samantha told him. “Miranda is taking care of them.”

  “I wouldn’t let her do that,” Spake said. “You’ll never hear from them again.”

  He grinned wickedly and went to another wall, pulling books off of it and tossing them into the pile in the middle of the floor.

  “Always bees,” he said.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Isobel murmured.

  “Neither do I,” Samantha said quietly.

  “You said she’s slippery,” Spake said, throwing more books. Samantha dodged one passively.

  “Yes,” she said, edging the book toward the others.

  “It’s where it goes,” Spake said, frowning at her. She let her foot rest on the floor again, trying not to look guilty.

  “I don’t know how to kill her,” Samantha said.

  “Everything dies,” Spake said to the bookshelf. He took a book down and paged through it carefully before tearing a page out and eating it.

  “Was it wrong?” Isobel asked.

  “No, it was right,” Spake said distantly.

  “I need you to go with us,” Samantha said.

  “That’s what you said when you called,” Spake said. “She had dogs.”

  “They were demons,” Samantha said, “but they looked like dogs.”

  “Dogs that howl always give you away,” Spake said, then turned and slapped his hands together, rubbing his palms and looking at them with a manic eye. “We’re going hunting, then, the foxes on the loose.”

  “We should go as quickly as we can,” Samantha said. “She’s had too much time to dig in, as it is. And she’s killing people.”

  “Fastest is slow, when it looks like rain,” Spake said. “And there’s a storm tonight. We’ll leave in the morning after I sharpen my guns.”

  “I’ll leave Jason and Kara here, if that’s okay,” Samantha said.

  “Miranda loves company,” Spake said, returning to the wall of books and picking at it as if Samantha was no longer there. Samantha nodded and indicated to Kelly and Isobel that they were leaving now.

  “I can’t let Lange into a room with him to try to have a conversation,” Samantha said. “It just doesn’t work.”

  “I imagine,” Isobel said. “His wife seems perfectly normal.”

  “I assure you, I am anything but,” Miranda said, coming into view from around a corner. “But it’s a common enough mistake.” She indicated the staircase. “Lara is upstairs to get you situated into your rooms. May I have a word with you?” The last question was directed at Samantha.

  “Of course,” Samantha said, following Miranda across the first floor to the sitting room of the large suite where Miranda and Spake actually lived. Miranda sat on a low couch.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable,” she said. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Only if you are,” Samantha said.

  “Alice?” Miranda called gently. “Are you there?”

  “What can I do for you?” a woman in a maid’s uniform asked.

  “Two glasses of iced tea, please, and bring Jeremiah to me.”

  The woman nodded and left.

  “We don’t know each other very well,” Miranda said after the serving woman left. “I didn’t even make it to your wedding, even though Abby was so good as to invite both of us.”

  “Most of us weren’t there,” Samantha said. “Too many responsibilities.”

  “Yes,” Miranda said. “But I’m not one of you. I could have come, but I chose not to.”

  “Okay,” Samantha said. She remembered key things about the ceremony, like the dress Sam had ordered for her, and Nuri and Kjarr in the front row, but many of the details had gotten lost in the fizz of the day. There was no way she would have remembered if Miranda had been there.

  “You were simply Carter’s underling, and that didn’t matter to me,” Miranda said. “Spake told me that you made a play for Carter’s seat, while he was missing, but I suspected it was a ploy.”

  “Did you?” Samantha asked. No one had guessed it was a ploy, not Sam or Jason or Carter himself. Miranda gave her a mirthless smile.

  “You don’t want leadership,” she said. “You only take what’s forced onto you. You would never take over that kind of role unless someone made you.”

  “Maybe,” Samantha said. Now Miranda did smile.

  “Always leaving space for misunderstanding. You are good.”

  “I am,” Samantha said, still feeling out what the purpose of this was.

  “You’re going out tomorrow with Spake and the rest of your people to hunt down a woman you don’t understand,” Miranda said.

  “Yes,” Samantha said.

  “There’s some chance one or all of you may not live,” Miranda said.

  “Anything is possible,” Samantha said, still trying to sort out what Miranda was getting at.

  Miranda propped her temple against her fist, narrowing her large eyes.

  “I’ve been wanting to
talk to you since you took Lindsay’s territory. Spake is very good at what he does.”

  “I know that,” Samantha said.

  “He’ll fight you for territory just like any of the others would.”

  Samantha shrugged.

  “I’ve got Spake and Bane. I’m not that worried about land wars.”

  “You think that you’re important. Stronger and better than any of the others.”

  That stung deep. There was objective measurement - Samantha was the second most powerful person alive, as Carter had measured her and Argo had confirmed. But Samantha didn’t think that she gave an impression of being important, because of that.

  “I don’t think so,” Samantha said slowly.

  “You do,” Miranda said. “And that’s okay, so long as you know that Spake is important, too. He has people overlook him because of… how he is, and I want to make sure you don’t.”

  “I came for help,” Samantha said. “I lost last time, and I know I need the right people to go with me this time.”

  The maid came back with a pitcher of tea and glasses, and a six year old boy in tow.

  “Jeremiah,” Miranda said. “Please sit.”

  She waited as the maid gave Samantha a glass, then left the pitcher and the other glass on the end table next to Miranda and exited. The little boy sat, looking slightly sullen in the way of most little boys who had been doing something fun moments before.

  “This is Jeremiah,” Miranda said. “Jeremiah, this is Sam. She’s one of Daddy’s friends.”

  Samantha sat straight. Miranda’s eyes caught it, and she dipped her head slightly.

  “This is my son.”

  Samantha felt her mouth drop open. There were so many things wrong with that, she couldn’t even find words for it.

  “I spent two years in a tiny mining town up north on my own, and when we came back, I told everyone he was a foundling. No one but Spake and myself know that he is ours. And now you.”

  “Why?” Samantha gasped. She had a hard time imagining something more reckless. Abby was a liability to Carter - if anyone came after her, they had leverage to manipulate Carter and cause him to act against his own best interests. A child was so close to expressly forbidden that it may as well have been. Someone in Spake’s position couldn’t afford to have someone he cared about so much as a child anywhere in the world. A spouse was controversial.

  “Because I want you to know that you are not important. Not like Spake is. When you go out with my husband tomorrow, I want you to make sure he comes home.”

  Samantha hesitated, looking at Jeremiah. He was an attractive child, clean features and hair that was cut short against his head, and he looked back at Samantha with Miranda’s eyes, only, somewhere underneath them, she could just see the glint of Spake’s mischief.

  The child was going to be a handful his entire life.

  “How are you?” Samantha finally asked.

  He shrugged. Looked at Miranda. Sat up straighter.

  “Your dad is good at his job,” Samantha said.

  “I know,” he answered, his voice still the soft, high-pitched sound of a child. Innocent.

  Miranda was watching Samantha.

  “You really aren’t a bastard like the rest of them, are you?” Miranda asked.

  “No,” Samantha said, shaking her head, but continuing to maintain eye contact with Jeremiah. “But you knew that, Miranda, or else you wouldn’t have tried to use emotional blackmail to get me to do something you want me to do.”

  “We share a border with Mitch,” Miranda said. “Do you know what he sends us at Christmas ever year?”

  “I couldn’t guess,” Samantha said.

  “Year-old summer sausage,” Miranda said. “Dusty.”

  “Dusty,” Samantha echoed. She’d never known Mitch to be contentious, either. He was quiet, did his job, and tried not to take too much flack for living with his parents.

  He was also the last of them she’d want watching her back.

  “The first year, it came with a note,” Miranda went on. “It said ‘this meat is going to last longer than you’.”

  Samantha frowned.

  “Mitch? Really?” Her attention finally tore from Jeremiah, whose eyes sparkled at her once more as she turned to look at Miranda.

  “There’s more jostling in this business than you know about,” Miranda said. Samantha tipped her head and Miranda had to smile. “Okay, there’s just lots you don’t know about.”

  “I’ve never understood why,” Samantha said. “I mean, Argo and Garret and Ian, sure, I get it. Even Peter. They want to know whose is biggest, and so you get a bunch of chest thumping and arguing. But taking land from each other? That’s just stupid. We’ve all got plenty to keep after, as it is.”

  “Why did you take this job?” Miranda asked.

  “Because…” Samantha started, then stopped herself. “I was going to say that it’s because someone has to do it and Lindsay sucked at it, but it’s not just that. It’s because I couldn’t take care of some of the people who are important to me, from the road. I needed to set up a headquarters that I could use to house people, and then ward it consistently, like what Carter has done.”

  Miranda nodded, glancing at Jeremiah.

  “You can go play, Jeremy. Thank you for sitting still.”

  Jeremiah sprung up from his chair and vanished out of the room with a clatter like falling books. Miranda continued speaking.

  “There’s nothing noble about what you do. You think there is, but there isn’t. Spake does it because he’s damned good at it, and it’s the only thing he could ever put his mind to doing. Carter does it because he’s a demon himself, and if he doesn’t fight them, he’s going to realize he’s one of them. The rest of them,” Miranda waved her hand. “Various things to prove, issues with mommy or daddy, insecurities. You’re all bullies. And you finally found the one thing that you’re allowed to go after that no one is going to say you’re doing a bad thing.”

  “Are you saying that the demons are victims?” Samantha asked.

  “Hell no,” Miranda answered. “The day Spake dies, Jeremiah and I die. If you could exterminate the lot of them, I’d send you flowers. I’m just saying you aren’t doing it because you’re a good person. Much as you’d like to think that.”

  It hurt less than Samantha might have guessed. As she inspected it, she found it didn’t bother her at all.

  “I think you’re wrong,” Samantha said. “Some of them are in it for the wrong reasons, but I think more of them than you think are doing it because they feel like someone has to, and they can.”

  Miranda shook her head.

  “No. No, you’re lying to yourself. Every decision you make, you leave yourself just enough room to deceive and confuse yourself into believing that, but you want the power. Maybe you call it ‘knowledge’. But if you didn’t have the power you have, you’d never know what you know, would you? When the moment comes, and you have to decide who you are and why, when you realize that everything you’ve done hasn’t been for noble intentions or idealism, I want you to remember my son’s face, and I want you to die and Spake to live. You aren’t important. Spake is.”

  “Wow,” Samantha said, standing. “Thanks for the drink.”

  <><><>

  “Kara, can you call Sam for me?” Samantha asked.

  “Course,” Kara answered, going to get her phone off of a dresser. “What is it with you and phones, girl?”

  “They make you findable,” Samantha said.

  “Dialing them doesn’t,” Kara said.

  “Connecting from one person to another creates a spark,” Samantha said. “It’s traceable.”

  “So you’d rather they be able to find me or Sam than you?” Kara asked. Samantha winced her face to the side. It was so hard to explain.

  “Carter carries one,” Jason observed from the bed.

  “It’s different,” Samantha said. “He doesn’t have a history.”

  Kara handed Sam
antha the phone as it rang.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she said to Samantha. “I was just curious.”

  “Tell him I said hi,” Jason called and Samantha nodded, heading down the hallway toward the room Miranda had arranged for her.

  “Sam,” Sam said. “Where are you? You feel a long way away.”

  Psychics and phones.

  “Montreal,” Samantha said. “We found her.”

  “Good,” he said. “Who’s with you?”

  “Kelly, Lange, Spake, and I will be going tomorrow.”

  “Jason still bouncing around?”

  “He says hi,” Samantha said. Sam sighed.

  “Wish he was going to be with you. Wish I were going to be with you.”

  “I’ve got a lot of better ideas of how to deal with her, and good backup,” Samantha said. “We should have a much better chance of beating her this time.”

  “Still,” Sam said.

  “How are things there?” Samantha asked.

  “Carter’s a bastard,” Sam said.

  “I was hoping he was getting over that,” Samantha said.

  “Doesn’t look like it from here,” Sam said.

  “What’s he got you doing?” Samantha asked.

  “It isn’t really important,” Sam said. “I mean, it is, but I don’t really feel like talking about it. When he gets back, I’m going to have to go.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Scaring demons,” Sam said flatly. Samantha smiled. She’d gone on a few of those runs.

  “I miss you,” she said.

  “I miss you,” he answered. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” Samantha answered. “I’m working. I got Isobel back.”

  “I saw,” Sam said. “Why didn’t you call?”

  “I don’t know,” Samantha said. “It’s easier if I just keep going. Then it will be over, you know?”

  “I get it,” Sam said. “I don’t like it, but I get it.”

  “Are you lonely?” Samantha asked. Sam laughed.

  “Just worried. You know, you could lie to me now and I’d never know it?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you,” Samantha said. She heard the smile in his voice.

  “I know. I just feel blind. Don’t like being out of it like this.”

  “I know,” Samantha said. There was a silence between them, and suddenly the truth of just how much she missed him hit her. They had been words - true words - but just words until she hit that gap. She would have touched his face, if he’d been there with her. Rested with her forehead buried against his chest. She missed his smell. No bed had smelled right, since she’d left him with Carter.