by LE Barbant
“OK. But you’re going to, right?”
“I just want you to be ready.” He stopped outside of a door. Light seeped out from under its crack and into the shadowy hallway. “This is going to be a bit of a surprise.”
“What hasn’t been?” Willa asked, tired of the charades.
Harker nodded, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust.
When they had, she couldn’t believe what they showed her.
“Hello, Willa,” her grandfather said.
PART TWO
THEY that have power to hurt and will do none
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,
And husband nature’s riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
“Sonnet XCIV,” William Shakespeare
CHAPTER TWENTY
The six-by-eight cinderblock cell barely allowed space to turn around in, but Jack watched as Eric paced, his large strides covering the distance in two paces. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Turn.
It was nauseating.
Jack had known his cellmate for years, their service with Blackbow had taken them from one end of the globe to another. From Venezuelan jungles to the hills of Pakistan, they had spent a fair number of nights together in places far worse than their current location. But another month of watching his partner pace and he would snap.
Jack Reznor was not an easy man to break. His years of service had prepared him to undergo physical and psychological torture and come out the other end whistling Dixie. Not once, in over a decade of missions, had he ever disobeyed an order, nor betrayed the code.
Step. Step. Turn.
Another month of incessant pacing, and he would consider making an exception.
He didn’t hate Eric. On the contrary, the soldier had been a loyal partner, carrying him through some of the darkest periods in Jack’s life. He was the closest thing to a friend Jack had allowed himself. Theirs was a bond not easily broken. But even the closest of relationships would be tested in these conditions.
Hour after hour, day after day, the same pattern repeated ad nauseum.
Step. Step. Turn.
Jack closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Eric wouldn’t be the first person he’d killed, but he couldn’t help but grin when he pictured breaking the man’s neck. He even imagined a jury setting him free. This was cruel and unusual punishment, after all.
Their situation wouldn’t last, that much was certain. He ran the numbers again in his head; there were only three ways forward. They would be tried, convicted, and sent to a maximum security facility somewhere upstate. While Pennsylvania maintained its right to use the death penalty, it rarely acted on it. But, if the crimes were pinned on him, the Commonwealth might make an exception. And there was, of course, the chance that the DA might try to make a case that they killed Dobbs’. The death of a mayor on one’s hands was serious. They’d be local heroes in lockdown until their date with the needle. The Commonwealth hadn’t executed anyone since ‘99, and there were some that were hungry for backwoods justice.
Even without Dobb’s blood on their hands, homegrown terrorism tended to reduce sympathy in the eyes of the court.
Or, his case would go to trial. He could be found not guilty. The evidence was unclear at best and with no witnesses, no direct cause, and no precedent for this kind of thing, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he’d be let off. The company, as per their policy, had provided them with a big name attorney with an impeccable record. If anyone could spin the case in their favor, she could.
And then, there was the third option. Jack had been with Blackbow long enough to know that the rumors held at least some measure of truth. Legal maneuvering at the level they required would be a long and costly affair. Jack was a skilled operative, one of the best, but it wouldn’t take long for the company accountants to start weighing their options. There was also the question of company security. Jack could imagine the closed door debate.
What does he know?
What are the odds he’d turn state’s evidence?
How much damage could he do to the company?
None of this had ever been confirmed, but there were stories of captured operatives dying mysteriously behind bars. It wasn’t farfetched to believe that the company would eliminate their own in order maintain secrecy.
It would be clean and efficient, like all of Blackbow’s actions.
Death and disavowal went hand in hand.
Three plausible scenarios. Jack ran them through his head repeatedly.
Whereas Eric paced to relieve his energy, Jack had found mental patterns to occupy his time. There were only three options that he could see. One put him behind bars for life. The other put him in an early grave. Not great odds. But there was always the third, a longshot but Jack had gotten out of tighter spots than this playing the odds.
Step. Step.
The steady rhythm providing the soundtrack to Jack’s thoughts shattered in an instant. The halogen bulbs overhead burst with a blinding intensity then all went dark. A strange purple glow filled the cell. Wind whipped him in the face and tugged at his jumpsuit. Jack thought that he could hear a distant voice echoing through the room.
“...For inlet there, of different color each,
And one who watch'd, but spake not yet a word…”
“What the fuck?”
Eric stood in place, staring at the cell’s back wall.
Jack followed his gaze. The wall had disappeared. Melted might be a better term. In its place was a dripping sea of purple, almost like a slow motion waterfall. Its faint glow provided what little illumination remained in the cell. Before Jack’s mind had a chance to make sense of the scene, reality shifted even further.
A man with a giant frame and large bald head stepped through the sheet of flowing purple. He took one look at the two men and nodded.
“Who’s ready to get back to work?”
The man’s face was expressionless like he’d just stepped through the front door of a country diner and ordered pie.
Eric, however, was less than calm.
“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on here?” His voice quivered. Jack watched beads of sweat gather on Eric’s forehead as he lost his shit.
“I’m looking for soldiers. And, despite how royally you screwed up your last assignment, I’m willing to offer you the job.”
Jack slipped a hand under his pillow and grabbed the small piece of plastic. Without a word he stood with the shiv pointed at the juggernaut, just behind Eric. His partner talked enough for both of them.
“You’re one of those fucking freaks, aren’t you?” Eric said. “We’re done with that shit. We take our orders from one person and one person only. I don’t know how you got in here, but you can fuck off the way you came because we’re not interested.”
The large man retained his composure. He crossed his arms, casually, unaffected by Eric’s response.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Fortunately, I was only able to procure one of your tech suits. My offer’s only good for one.”
Eric looked at their large visitor without an appreciation for the gravity of their situation, but Jack saw that a new option had just materialized before his eyes.
Eric opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came.
The makeshift knife slid roughly across Eric’s
throat, tearing at flesh and tendons in its course.
Eric collapsed in a heap.
Jack looked down at his former partner, then up at the large man, whose expression remained unchanged.
“I accept.”
The man nodded in agreement then turned and walked through the purple screen.
Step. Step.
Reznor crossed the cell in two steps and followed him through.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The human brain struggles to interpret that which contradicts its beliefs. Usually, the mind distorts the facts, forcing reality to conform to previously held ideas. Sometimes, in order to succeed at these mental gymnastics, the mind flat out lies, blinding itself to what it doesn’t want to see. But in the rare, extreme case where reality cannot be denied, cannot be bent or manipulated, and yet still does not make sense, the mind shuts down, like a computer fried by an electrical overload.
Willa experienced this exact feeling of vertigo the moment she saw her dead grandfather stand to greet her.
She was speechless; her jaw hung to the floor.
Not only was her grandfather alive and sitting at a desk in the Guild compound, but adding to her bewilderment the room also looked identical to his office in the Cathedral of Learning. Even the books were in their places, organized in a new fashion from the last time she had seen them. Papers, scattered around the room, covered every inch of available space like they always had. Instead of sitting, per her usual visits to his office, Edwin stood over his desk and faced the door. The man's arms were outstretched toward her, robes hanging around his wrists.
A smile spread across his face. "Of course, you're surprised. And this," Edwin gestured around the room, "is just mimicking spell. Don't think too much of it. It’s sort of like that, what is it called? Oh, right, ‘Go to Office’, only for an entire place. A pretty handy little spell. I have everything I need right here. Now, let me get a look at you. Well, you sure have changed. All of that exercise. Never was one for it myself but to each her own."
Edwin stepped toward his granddaughter.
"Stop. Just…stop."
Willa's head spun, darkness started to edge over her vision. The last ten months had been spent mourning the man who now stood before her—and planning his vengeance. Mixed emotions thrashed around in her gut.
"I all but buried you. And now this? What the hell, Edwin?" It was the first time she’d used his first name, but her grandfather had died. She didn’t know the imposter standing in his skin.
Watching the slight smile fade from his face, she wondered if it were really him. Living in a world where illusion was always a possibility made discernment difficult. If the Guild wanted information, this would be an astute means. The magician closed her eyes and tried to think of a spell appropriate to gain some clarity on her situation.
Nothing came.
"Yes. Of course. I hoped our initial contact would be easier, but that goes without saying." Edwin stepped back and lowered himself into the hard wooden chair. "Sit, Willa. Let's work through this. I'll tell you everything about the past, then we’ll discuss the future." He paused. “Please, sit.” Edwin motioned at the chair that Willa had spent hours in over the course of her time in Pittsburgh.
The contours of the wood were exactly as she remembered.
She nodded at the picture of Edwin and George RR Martin hanging behind him on the wall. “Tell me about that day.”
Edwin’s brow furrowed, then loosened, exhibiting his understanding. “Ah, smart girl. Be assured it is me. That day it was unseasonably cold and overcast for Virginia. I had hoped to get a few days away from the malaise of Western, PA, but alas, it was much the same. Martin’s reading was fine, but not great, as I expected. I stood in line for an hour to get that photo. He was shocked that I didn’t want his autograph, but you know, that’s not really my thing. We wordsmiths are already an egotistical bunch, and I thought that I would do him no favors. I mentioned my name, and he didn’t seem to recognize it. Turn around is fair play, no? But what should I expect, he has an HBO show after all—though I hardly imagine he likes it.” He grinned through his beard. “Convinced? Though I expect some of the older chaps around here could have replicated much of my memory as well. There are a few of the keenest minds in the Guild here this week.”
Willa felt a bit of the tension in her shoulders relax. She wasn’t thoroughly appeased, but it was likely the closest she would get.
“After all I’ve been through, how the hell could you do this to me?” she spat at her grandfather.
“After all you’ve been through I thought you’d understand better than this. But alas, you are still young and haven’t seen a tenth of what I have. I guess I trusted you beyond your ability.”
A glimmer danced in his eyes, and Willa was uncertain if she was being praised or chastised. Knowing him well, she settled on the fact that it was likely a little of both. “It killed me to see you die, much more so because it was to save me.”
“Ah, Willa, when I go for real, I do hope it will be for such a good reason. Now, it is time for you to hear the rest of the narrative. No?”
Willa only nodded. Something had overcome the rage that had resided in her. Relief—even joy, an emotion that had become all but foreign to her—took its place.
He can help us, she thought.
“After your mother’s murder, I was a broken man. Initially, I went on the war path. I was set to destroy anyone or anything that got in the way of my revenge. My actions were uncalculated and frankly, stupid. If I had continued down that road, it would have led to my own end, achieving neither vengeance nor justice.” The man paused to inspect the ceiling. “Then one day, it struck me. How could Rizzo have known who I was? I had dodged their family’s steps for months, but never did I reveal my identity nor my power. Even in my most reckless moments, I would never have been so stupid to put my family at risk. And yet, they knew. Somehow they figured out who, and what, I was. So I did what I do best. I set my mind to research and reflection. It became clear that Rizzo and his cronies were nothing but hired muscle, pawns in a greater game. The real culprit remained hidden in the shadows.”
Willa remembered her day in Rizzo’s mansion and then her own vengeance on Dobbs. Though only a few months earlier, it felt like an eternity ago. “Dobbs.” The name was part answer, part question.
“That was the easy answer, but the problem still remained. Dobbs was an unremarkable man. Ambitious, sure, but how could he have known about our world? He was also a pawn—a double blind, if you will, designed to mask the real villain’s identity. Whoever leaked the information about your mother was a master of deception. And before you ask, yes, the Alarawn’s were caught up in this game as well. Your friend Elijah’s accident was no coincidence. And I suspect that Brooke Alarawn’s hideous transformation was part of a plan, bigger than her. Everything you’ve encountered were moves and countermoves, a game of chess far above the comprehension of our day-to-day eyes. That’s what I finally understood, Willa. Each character cast into their particular role.”
“So, who did the casting?”
“That, as they say, is the million-dollar question. And my search has not been without its roadblocks. There had to be someone on the inside, who knew Vox Populi well and had a motivation. So I turned for help to the one group I had always rejected.”
“The Guild.”
“Yes. Their power and insight are prodigious. Within the cloister I had access to information and resources I only dreamed of during my vigilante days. Last February, I knew that people were watching you, Elijah, and the others. I tried my hardest to keep you out of danger, but you are stubborn like I was. I knew that I needed to intervene, but the monster that was Brooke Alarawn provided me with another opportunity. Not only could I save you, but I could go dark in the process. Faking my death has allowed me to search in secret for the one who killed your mother, the root of the tree. And I am so close, Willa. I have chopped away at its branches for years. It is time to rip it fr
om the ground.”
Willa’s pulse increased. “But why did you have to lie to me? Didn’t you trust me?”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Edwin’s eyes grow wet.
“I was only trying to protect you, darling. My path these last few months has been full of danger.”
“So was mine.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. But she didn’t care anymore about showing her true emotions to the man. “I thought you were dead. I was so angry. The things that I did…” Her voice trailed off, unable to speak the words.
“Willa, I’m sorry. I—”
“So what is all of this? Me and Tim, is it just another one of your games? They aren’t really going to execute him, are they? You can get us out.”
Every ounce of peace drained from the old man’s face. His chin tilted toward his chest, beard swiping the folds in the robe. “The thing is, Willa, over the years, I gained an appreciation for the Guild and their ways. I couldn’t see it when I was younger, but this is our path. It is mine. It is yours. My membership was initially one of utility, it’s true. But now, I see that the Guild is committed to ideals greater than both of us. Their convictions are true, and we…I will carry through the process. The process is everything.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Tim is a good man, Grandfather,” Willa said, just a little quieter than a yell.
Edwin laughed. “None are good. And now, as a result of you and the chemist’s meddling, he is hardly even a man. We need to maintain purity, it is part of our job. We are the preservers, Willa. Tim Ford will be judged. It is necessary for the restoration to normativity and also to serve as an example to others.”
Willa’s face burned. Joy over seeing her grandfather turned quickly to anger over his puritanical bias. She couldn’t believe that he could condone such a horrid act as executing her friend. But part of her anger was directed inward. She knew it was her actions that brought them to this point. Then she thought about Elijah and the way she enhanced his powers.
