“Is that our moon? It’s so gigantic and it’s always night here.” The shadows formed the same face, making me think it was.
“Yes.”
“You sure?” I asked as we lay shoulder to shoulder.
“Yes. I’ve asked him.”
“Jockey?”
“No. The Man on the Moon.”
I instantly envisioned a man gleaming in silver grey who winked a lot. “Why haven’t I ever met him? Does he come in at all? I’ve never seen him at the office.”
“Because you’re new and he only comes by every couple of years.”
New; another word for transfer. It didn’t bother me the way it would have a month ago, not from him. Sometimes I felt like this Fate was a completely different person to the one I’d met when I first started.
“The other day, you said you never wanted this for me. Why did you want me gone so badly?” I asked and then waited, fearing the answer. What if he said he’d hated me or I was annoying?
“Because I know what the stakes are for us, our kind. The dangers and the pitfalls. I knew something bad was coming, and I didn’t want you to be in the middle of it. Our people, ones who weren’t transfers and were born to this life, were disappearing. Friends of mine, gone. I’d have coffee with them in the morning and they’d be gone by nightfall. If they couldn’t stay alive, I couldn’t imagine how you would when you were at a disadvantage.”
“Did you have to be such a dick about it? Couldn’t you have just said that?” And perhaps not have crushed my feelings on a daily basis?
“You’re stubborn. I thought it would be more effective to make you miserable. I didn’t want to see you disappear like the others.”
He fell silent, as if it was still a touchy subject to him. It was the most human I’d ever seen him act.
I tilted my head to look at his profile. “Was it hard losing them?”
“Some were harder than others. The Karma before you, we were close. It’s different if you are born to this. In a human existence, you lose people suddenly for all different reasons. When it happens to us, it’s shocking,” his voice was softer and he didn’t look at me as he spoke but remained looking up at the stars.
“After that, how could you sit across the table from him and agree to a truce?” I didn’t think poorly of him for it but I couldn’t understand it, either.
“Because, in that moment, it was what I needed to do,” he answered. It was the answer I would’ve expected, and yet it contradicted what he’d done for me.
“It didn’t last very long anyway,” I said, thinking back to the scene in the convenience store that happened less than a week later. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
And there we were, like it had just happened, back to the same question and the same avoidance.
“Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He finally turned and looked at me and there was a challenge in his eyes. “Is that what you’re saying? You’re ready to talk?”
Such innocent questions, and they froze me up quicker than anything that had ever been asked of me before. This whole time, I’d thought it had been a mutual avoidance. When had things changed? Was I now the one shutting down the lines of communication and he was playing along? At least when it came to the subject of us.
And still I couldn’t answer. I tried to make my brain work and my tongue move; I tried to get past the sheer panic that was gripping me more fiercely than anything I’d ever felt.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
He was disappointed in me, and I was shocked at how that disappointment in his voice seeped into me and saddened me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I still said nothing. Why couldn’t I simply tell him? I like you with an intensity that scares the hell out of me. After everything I’d been through, why was it so difficult? I could just say it. And then it would be out there.
And then I came full circle to the problem. What he’d say back. What he’d do. Looming rejection on a level I couldn’t cope with on top of everything else going on.
We needed to talk. There were things that had to be said, however it might turn out—but not now. I couldn’t deal with it right now. And I had the perfect excuse to blow the subject off as Jockey drove up in a buggy and we both sat up.
“A carriage?”
“Even I won’t ride them right now. I almost wasn’t able to harness her to this.” We stood and Fate grabbed the blanket to hand back to him.
Jockey shook his head and motioned for him to keep it. “It’s getting very cold there. You should bring it with you.”
We settled in and Fate laid the blanket over us.
“Whatever you do, don’t get out of the buggy, no matter how long it takes her to come back.”
I nodded, even as I became concerned about this little venture, and wondered if this was the best thing to be doing.
We took off at a much more hectic pace than the last time I’d gone for a ride. This time I was prepared for the ground to disappear and the dark tunnel of visions to pop up everywhere, like riding through the largest multiplex ever created without walls. We didn’t go very far before we were pulled into a nightmare. It was chaotic, people chanting and screaming all around and there, in the center of everyone, was Malokin. And me.
“Try and remember every face you see,” Fate said as we circled the group, all figments of Malokin’s mind.
The dream version of me stood there, docile in front of him. Like that would ever happen. The crowd jeered. Then Malokin’s knife was at my throat. The blade ran across my skin, setting off a spray of blood as it did. I collapsed on the ground, red pooling around me. It was the image Fate had seen or something so close it didn’t matter.
The carriage suddenly jerked around and the mare ran out of the dream as if the scene had spooked her as much as it had me. I turned, transfixed by the image of my death unfolding.
I didn’t turn back around until we were so far away from the horrific scene that it was only a speck in the blackness. But the image was still there, crystal clear in my mind. I felt Fate edge closer to me, silently offering me his support. Now we both knew what my death looked like.
The carriage stopped and everything had a surreal feeling to it. I had the fuzziest recollection of Jockey asking how it went and no notion of what Fate replied, although I knew he did.
I moved in a haze, step after step, unsure how I knew where I was going.
We barely made it out of the nightmare hallway before the panic attack set in full force. Years of being a defense attorney—judges yelling at me, jurors narrowing their eyes at me as if they couldn’t stand the sight of me—and not once had I had a panic attack. Now, one lousy dream and I couldn’t get enough air, no matter how deeply or rapidly I breathed.
My legs decided they’d had enough once we hit the office lobby and my back slammed into sheetrock before I slid down it. It was a dream. That was all.
I scanned the hall, looking for Fate and that’s when it hit me, right in the middle of my panic attack, how much I’d come to rely on him. Not great timing for a revelation like that; it notched my panic up another level of frenzy.
I’d deal with the implications of that later, after I’d reclaimed a respectable chunk of my sanity. Right now, I needed him to tell me it was going to be okay.
He was at the end of the hall, his back to me. “Fate?” My voice was pathetically weak and I detested the sound.
He didn’t move for a second and I called his name again, trying to sound a bit stronger this time. He turned as if it were the first time he’d heard me and then quickly walked toward me. He stopped in front of me and knelt down, resting on his haunches.
“Look at me,” he said, his hands cupped my face. “That will not happen to you. Do you hear me?”
It was his stubborn look that I knew so well. I nodded.
“It won’t happen,” he said again, and I wasn’t sure which one of us he was trying to convinc
e.
I hoped it was working for Fate because I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t from a lack of wanting. Still, I wished he’d repeat it over and over, hoping that maybe, if I heard it enough, somehow I would begin to believe it too.
My breathing eased, and I think he took that to mean I was buying into the whole it would be okay thing. In truth, it was more because I was running out of adrenaline and reality was settling in. Fate had seen it in his visions. I’d now seen it in Malokin’s dream.
What I had to do was come to terms with the fact it was there, the finality of my existence, looming over me. A panic attack wasn’t going to change that. Screaming and running to Fate wouldn’t stop it.
For all that my coworkers put such stock in not being a transfer, we had a definite edge in one area. As a human, you were born knowing you were going to die. We visited the unlucky in the hospital and went to funerals, always remarking on the tragedy. But every time we stepped too close to it, we saw our own demises. We went with the full knowledge that we would one day die as well.
The closest humans got to immortality was the ignorance of youth, but death was always hovering nearby, even for the young. At some point our lives would end. We’d wake up one day and not go to sleep that night. We might have had warning, or it might be sudden, but from the moment we became aware of ourselves we became aware of our impending deaths.
My coworkers? Up until recently, they had been born knowing that as long as they walked the line, they could go on forever.
So yeah, I was a transfer, but that was one area where I had the edge. I had experience with mortality.
I stood, acting calmer than I thought would’ve been possible a few moments ago. I wiped my hands against the back of my pants. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Sixteen
A blaring horn rang out and I saw a SUV sitting in Fate’s driveway. It looked like the misfit child of a monster truck and a minivan. If I hadn’t watched him get out of the driver’s seat to load a bag into the back, I never would’ve believed Fate would drive something like that.
He was closing the back hatch, looking all sorts of rustic yumminess in his black boots and rugged gear, when I approached.
He sized up my outfit as well and found it lacking. “What’s wrong with a sundress? You said we were going for a ride into the country?”
“On a gun run?”
“I’m sorry, but the boutique didn’t have any army-girl-fabulous in stock.” I walked around the ride he’d supplied. “Talking about style, where did you get this fine automobile?” I asked patting the camouflage paint job.
“There weren’t too many places available to procure a vehicle for today’s purpose and I know you have an aversion to borrowing.” He tossed the other bag that had been sitting on the driveway into the back.
“No, I imagine not.” I looked down the street and the only traffic I saw was a sedan packed to the gills, trying to get out of Dodge. If you were still normal, you didn’t want to be around other people anymore. It was too dangerous.
Fate came up to me and rested his hand on my lower back as we watched the SUV drive away down the street. It took with it the last thread of deniability I’d been clinging to. People were fleeing. Campers had been flying off the lot, bank accounts had been emptying and businesses were grinding to a halt.
“This is really happening.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. Live long enough and there aren’t too many things you don’t get to see.” He patted my hip in an overly friendly way but I guessed that was what happened when you snuggled in bed every night. “Come on. You ready to get some guns?”
And this was the reality now. Gun runs and ambushes. “Yep. Let’s go.”
The truck was rugged and high off the ground. It made sense. We were going on a run to get more guns. This truck was much more suited than a sports car. I started looking for a handle to pull myself up with but Fate came over and hoisted me up.
I waited until we were pulling out of the lot before I took the opportunity to talk about something that had been bugging me. “What’s your beef with Knox?”
“I don’t like him.”
I waited for him to continue but he didn’t. Who doesn’t explain a statement like that? “Why don’t you like him?”
He shrugged. “Just don’t.”
“You just met him for the first time, right?” I’d learned in these past months to never make any assumptions. That luxury died with my body in the train wreck.
“Yes. And you?” His eyes nailed me in a stare that had me torn between squirming and yelling.
I compromised between the two and caught a slight attitude. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“You’re sure? He was looking at you like he was pretty familiar.”
“I’m positive.” The relaxing ride into the country for guns wasn’t turning out to be the pleasant afternoon getaway I’d imagined. Who’d have thought? “You were kind of rough on him at the meeting.”
He shrugged. “He’s the new kid and needs to learn the boundaries.”
I was the new kid too, or at least I still felt like it. Wasn’t a great feeling. I fell quiet, not caring to explore this conversation any further with the turn it had just taken.
We drove about forty minutes inland, and I watched as the houses became more and more spread out until we pulled down a gravel drive, surrounded by nothing but woods.
“Where is this place?” I asked, seeing nothing but trees everywhere.
“There.” He pointed to a small ranch that was just starting to appear on the horizon.
I grabbed on to the handle above the door as the truck bounced all over the rough drive until we reached the house. Fate threw the truck into park and I jumped off the passenger seat.
“Here?” I hooked a thumb in the house’s direction. “I thought this was going to be an armory or gun shop or…I don’t know. But not this. What kind of guns are we going to possibly get here?” It was a large ranch but still a ranch. It had shutters, flowers painted on the mailbox and was that a gazebo I saw in the back?
He started walking towards the front door. “The kinds of guns we need aren’t sold to the public in places that say firearms in bold lettering above the entrance.”
I stared at the blue painted door with a plaque that read, “Home Sweet Home,” above it and the pieces clicked into place. Living in a house my grandmother would’ve been at home in was probably a great cover for an arms dealer, drug dealer or basically any of your run-of-the-mill nefarious types.
Fate rapped his knuckles on the glass panes of the door and someone who looked nothing like my grandpa, and had no Earthly business residing in a house like this, strode over to open it. Lanky with dark brown hair, he looked like he’d be more comfortable cruising down the highway amidst a motorcycle club of the illegal variety.
“Hey,” he said, nodding his head and forgoing the more normal custom of a handshake. “Who’s she?” he asked, looking in my direction.
“None of your business,” Fate said.
“This ain’t no candy shop.” He was looking at me when he spoke.
Okay, maybe I wasn’t in gunrunner-appropriate attire but candy shop? I turned to leave, but not because I was offended. I didn’t care enough to be bothered. All that was on my mind was the sunny day and how hanging outside seemed like as good—if not better—use of my time.
Fate’s hand grabbed my arm when I would’ve left. “Why don’t I just go—” I didn’t get a chance to say wait in the car and explain how it was for the best, hiding my true desire to feel the warmth on my skin under my noble pretense to not cause problems.
“She’s. With. Me.”
The way Fate said those three words lowered my odds of a couple of minutes of sunshine down to zero.
The guy shook his head and started walking as he said, “I swear, if you weren’t such a scary fuck, I’d tell you to go screw and to buy your shit somewhere else.”
“You have no idea what a scary
fuck I can be,” Fate said as he followed Gun Guy, as I decided to call him since no other name looked like it was going to be provided.
There was something about that statement Fate had just made that sent off little warning flares in my psyche. This was my snuggle buddy at night? Another reason I shouldn’t get involved on a more intimate level. If someone said they were a scary fuck, who was I to disagree?
I followed the two but not without one last longing glance at the hood of the truck. I could’ve lain there sunning myself instead of pondering who—or what—I slept beside every night.
“I got the stuff on the list, most of it anyways. All the AK47s, assault rifles, sniper rifles…” Gun Guy was listing off the rest of the arsenal but all the numbers and letters started sounding like a bad algebra quiz. I tuned him out as he opened a door in the small hallway that led to a basement.
He flipped on light switches, illuminating the place as we went. It looked like a typical basement, fake wood paneling, a workshop to the right, washer and dryer.
“But?” Fate asked, the break in the gun list drew my attention back.
Gun Guy hesitated, his lips compressing before he said, “I couldn’t get the napalm.” He stood watching Fate and I saw the slightest hesitation as if his foot was getting ready to take a step back.
Fate looked like he was doing mental gun math before he said, “The napalm might have been overkill.”
Gun Guy grabbed one end of a clothes rack next to the laundry area and Fate grabbed the other as they moved it out of the way. The guy opened the paneling behind it.
Now this was what I’d expected, a room with cement blocks, lined with guns on every side. This was the lair of a self-respecting gunrunner, not that pansy Home Sweet Home sign.
The guy walked over to where five large duffle bags sat on the floor. “Here’s your stuff.” He reached down and placed one on the table in the center, to make it easier for Fate to rifle through it. “I gotta ask you something.”
Fated: Karma Series, Book Three Page 12
