by eden Hudson
“I can see that they are to you,” I said. “In the interest of using words carefully, would this damning you’re referring to come my way from a certain religious organization whose building I’m standing in?”
She glanced at the Council members. “There are plenty of people in the Guild who would love to see you in prison, if only to close out the Van Zandt legacy once and for all. But you haven’t left them any evidence of a crime they can try you for, and they won’t step outside of their own legalism. Even the incident with Sir Xiao can’t be prosecuted because she refuses to implicate you in any wrongdoing.”
I filed that little tidbit away for later and tilted my head back to look down my nose at the War Angel. “What about you? You’re not required to follow their rules. If God tells you to strike somebody down, their ass is grass whether the Guild sanctions it or not, right? So, what is this? Are you playing with your food?”
“I haven’t gotten any orders from God to strike you down, thief. Trust me, you would already be gone. It was just a warning. We all get a choice. I chose to become this. You can choose to pursue life at the expense of everything else you hold dear, but if you do, you’ll damn yourself.”
I grinned and fought the urge to shake out my shoulders. Unless Carina had let it slip that I had the plague, the War Angel had just confirmed the rumor that she could hear people’s fates in their blood.
“So you can tell fortunes, too.” I whistled. “Pretty neat trick.”
“I’m no prophet,” the War Angel said. “I’ve just been around long enough to see the natural conclusion to trying to avoid death at all costs.”
“Yeah, it’s so zany how humans like to be alive and stuff.”
She didn’t say anything to that, just motioned to the rest of the group. They assembled. The Council members all started yelling at once.
“—making a bad example a hundred times worse—”
“—standing around when we should be arresting this thief—”
“—Xiao’s technically still on probationary—”
“—at the very least demand an investigation on his actions leading up to—”
“—flaunting her flagrant misconduct—”
Of course that retard Nick took the bait. “Carina confessed and repented in view of a quorum of elder Guild members! That’s more than some of you bastards have done!”
I giggled. That should definitely help, throwing their sins back in their face. You can take the inbred trash out of the mountain bayou, but you can’t take the dumb out of the ass.
Through it all, Carina stood in that relaxed stance, watching and listening, with that cold, analytical expression on her face. Maybe leaning just a touch more weight on her right leg than her left.
When a lull came in the yelling, she spoke up. “Is the Council moving for my dismissal?”
“Of course not,” the Knight Superior huffed.
Carina nodded. “Is the Council convening to reconsider their judgment of Atonement Served for my case?”
The Head Scribe’s mouth dropped open. “That would be absolutely without precedent. In the history of judication, a Guild Council has never reneged on a sentence without new evidence.”
Another Carina-nod. “Is the Council calling for a vote to overrule the Med Staff’s declaration that I’m medically competent for the Upper Swamps investigation?”
A councilor with the twisting cross of the Knights Hospitaler stitched on the breast of her suit actually stomped her foot. “The very notion!”
“Is the Council moving to detain and interrogate Jubal Van Zandt without any evidence that he’s committed a crime?” she asked.
I looked around at each one of them. “Keep in mind that I haven’t made a daring escape from the jaws of authority in a few months. I’m a little rusty. It might take me as long as ten minutes.”
The Knight Superior spoke up again. “He’s admitted in full view of the Council that he’s a thief. What more do you want?”
“I can admit in full view of the Council that I’m Jesus Christ,” Carina said. “That doesn’t make me the Son of God.”
The Council looked like a school of spiral borefish that had just tried to tear into a bloody baby and ran teeth-first into a polysteel hull.
“Perhaps now would be a good time for me to step in,” the War Angel said. She sounded like the untouchable immortal again, but her eyes were still that muddy hazel color. “Though at the risk of appalling the Council further.” She nodded at me. “Thief, will you please propose your exploratory mission for review?”
“You got it, Wally,” I said.
The nickname was a spur of the moment gut call, but the War Angel smiled and her eyes turned almost as dark brown as mine. She loved it, being treated like just another one of the guys. My instincts amaze even me sometimes.
I turned to the Council. “It’s a well-known fact that the Dead Estuaries just north of the Upper Swamps were used hundreds of years ago to drown mages. The local symbio tribes still cast dangerous paper magics into the waters there, hoping the same waters that killed the mages will absorb the evil spells and stop the spread of—”
“Are we here for a history lecture?” the Head Scribe groused. “Well-known facts are well-known because our department has translated the ancient texts and distributed them to the general public.”
“Hey, fishdick, I didn’t interrupt you while you were reading my file to everybody in the room even though I’m already well acquainted with who I am. I would appreciate the same respect for showmanship that I gave you.”
“Agreed,” the War Angel said. “Allow the thief to present his proposal however he feels it’s best framed.”
The Head Scribe scowled, but had the sense to shut his mouth.
I gave him a big smile. “As I was saying, the Dead Estuaries have been utilized up to a point by the locals—mostly in the first few hundred feet from the banks—but superstition and fear keep them from probing any deeper. Based on laptic mapping and satellite photos, we know there are sunken cities back in there. And I happen to have it on good authority that your records point to a major holding of lost texts—we would call it a library nowadays—within one of those cities.”
“On whose authority?” the Head Scribe snapped, pointing one e-ink-stained finger at Carina. “Xiao’s?”
“I wasn’t aware of any records on a northern sunken city,” Carina said.
“Where did you get this information, thief?”
The Knight Superior cut in before the Head Scribe could have an aneurism. “You’re framing this like an information-gathering mission, but what exactly would be in it for you?”
“Obviously it’s dangerous territory,” I said. “And obviously there are the ancient texts of astronomical value. And yeah, for every one you get your hands on, I’ll probably steal two or three for Jubal, plus however many First Earth artifacts I can carry, because that’s what I do.”
I looked at the War Angel, hoping she could read a facial cue.
Her smile came back brighter than before. Apparently, she was happy to play along. “What are you really after?”
“I’m glad you asked, Wally.” I paused to make eye contact with every Council member, drawing each of their gazes individually to my best feature and holding them there in the dark chocolate depths for a second. Then I told the group, “What I’m really after is the Garden of Time.”
A heartbeat passed in silence.
The Head Scribe snorted. “The Garden of Time? What fresh madness is this?”
Carina was watching me with an intensity that would’ve made a lesser man stutter. That giddy energy boiled up inside of me again. I rolled my shoulders as slowly as I could manage and fought the urge to giggle.
“It’s the place where physical time is grown and stored,” I said to Carina as if she and I were the only living creatures in the room. “I believe there’s information in that sunken city related to the Garden, and I want it.”
A Carina-pause.
The Head Scribe couldn’t take it anymore. “How did you come by this information?!”
“Hard as it is to believe,” I said, “Every now and then I deal with somewhat unsavory characters generally considered enemies of the Guild. I therefore occasionally have access to information that gets withheld from the Guild.”
“Time is a concept imposed upon existence by humanity,” the Head Monk said, speaking up for the first time while he twisted the end of one impressively shaggy white eyebrow. “It is by its very nature illusory, and as such, cannot be created or destroyed. It most certainly cannot be stored.”
“Yes.” The Knight Hospitaler nodded, placated now that somebody agreed I was being outrageous. “Yes, this has the unmistakable ring of mythology, most likely coming from one of the Upper Swamps’ pagan tribes.”
“Could very well be.” I shrugged. “The fact remains that I’m going into the Upper Swamps first, the Dead Estuaries and beyond second, and I need protection. Carina’s already going to be in the area investigating your crucified buddies and this new threat to monotheism, and your scribes probably wouldn’t mind getting their hands on some fancy ancient texts if someone reliable was already going to be in the area. What I’m seeing is a way for you all to catch lots of fish with one well-placed trotline.”
Nickie-boy stepped forward. “No, what this breaker is seeing is an opportunity to get something for nothing. Look at his record. Look what he did to Ca—to Sir Xiao. Maybe he’ll actually do what he’s proposing and use her to get into and out of the Upper Swamps alive, but as soon as he gets the chance, he’ll turn on her.”
“That’s fishshit!” I snapped. “I’ll absolutely betray Carina again if it comes down to me or her, but I would never do it without a good reason. Which is why I want to hire not just one knuckgun for the road, but two—to decrease the odds of me getting into a situation where I have to choose. I want you with us, Nickie-boy,” I said, looking deep into his pale gray eyes and pouring earnest emotion into every fiber of my gorgeous body. “Me, Carina, and you against the entirety of the pagan wilderness. What do you say?”
He took a step toward me, shoving one banana finger in my face. “I say you can—”
“Sir Beausoleil,” the War Angel said. She put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back with no more effort than it would’ve taken to swipe the bangs out of her eyes. “Now would be an imprudent time to speak without thinking.”
A giggle bubbled out of my throat. Sure didn’t hurt to have an immortal killing machine on your side. And to think, all it had taken was treating her with the same amount of respect I would give a human: zero.
“I’m in,” Carina said, finally coming out of her thought-pause.
Nickie-boy took a step toward her. “You can’t be serious! Babe, you’re not thinking straight—”
“Sir Beausoleil, we’re standing in deliberation before the Guild Council,” Carina said, her voice devoid of inflection. “If you can’t separate your emotions from your duty, then I suggest you at least make an effort to conceal them like a professional.”
The expression on Nickie’s face was priceless. It covered everything from What the hell, babe? to You’re standing in front of me; how’d you get this knife in my back?
“Sir Xiao,” Nick growled through clenched teeth. His fists flexed, and barbwire tines popped in and out of his thick wrist. “You’re aware that you’re agreeing to accompany the—I can’t hardly bring myself to call this disloyal piece of trash a man—the scum that betrayed you, on a mission the Council hasn’t even agreed to allow yet?”
“FYI,” I interjected, “I’m going on this mission whether or not the Guild okays it. Just want everyone to be aware that this is happening one way or another.”
“What you’re doing is poorly considered,” Nick continued. “In fact, I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that this is your way of getting back at the Council for putting you on indefinite probationary reprimand.”
“Noted.” Carina inclined her head to him. “Now please note that I respectfully disagree. What I am actually doing is advancing Guild knowledge through newly acquired First Earth texts, investigating a war crime perpetrated on our own missionaries and medical staff, and turning the other cheek to the person who betrayed me.” She glanced my way. “If Van Zandt betrays me again, that’s on his eternal tab, not mine.”
Of course she conveniently forgot to mention that she was also catering to her overwhelming desire for me, but I let it slide this time because I had more self-control in the tip of my penis than Nickie-boy had in his entire body. I was a professional, after all, and still waters ran exceedingly deep for people like me and Carina.
“I agree with Sir Xiao,” the War Angel said. “If the matter had originated with the Council, I would suggest they grant her their permission to go. But since the thief consulted Sir Xiao in the first place, the contract is hers. The decision’s up to her, not the Guild.”
The Knight Superior cupped his wide chin with one hand. “The Laws of Knights Errant can’t possibly apply here.”
“They not only apply, but they were written for this very situation,” the War Angel said. “The knight in question is the one who chooses to accept or decline individual contracts, not the Guild.”
“But Xiao was already under orders for the investigatory mission when the thief contacted her,” the Knight Superior said.
“The thief isn’t asking Sir Xiao to disregard her orders,” the War Angel said. “He didn’t specify a timeframe for his mission to the sunken city. I’m sure he would be happy to wait until her investigation is complete.”
A surge of impatience made my throat tighten, but I smiled. “That’s why we don’t argue with Wally, kids. She’ll get you every time.”
The War Angel beamed at me, and I grinned back. If I’d had the time to waste, I could’ve parlayed this job-well-done into laying a real, live immortal.
I laced my fingers together and pointed a double-barreled finger gun at Nickhole the Dickhole. “So, what do you say, Nickie? Can I put you down as a yes?”
He wouldn’t look at me. He was too busy trying to glare-slash-silent-beg Carina into changing her mind.
She met his stare and waited, turning that shitty blankness she’d tried to hurt me with earlier on him.
Nick’s fists flexed. His jaw clenched.
Carina didn’t even blink.
He looked away first.
“Fine,” Nickie-boy growled. “I’ll go.”
THREE
After we left the War Angel and the Council, we headed down to the second floor to Nickie-boy’s bachelor pad. He stormed into the bedroom to pack, while Carina and I posted up in something that barely deserved to be called a kitchenette. Besides the bedroom, and I assumed—at least, I hoped—a bathroom somewhere, this appeared to be the only other room in the apartment.
“No wonder you people aren’t afraid of dying,” I said. “If this was all I had to look forward to at the end of an active, I’d just as soon not make it home, either.”
Carina opened a cabinet and started messing with cups.
I snorted. “Don’t bother making any for me. If the coffee here matches the kitchenette, then it’s not my brand.”
“Where are you planning on ditching him, Van Zandt?” Her voice was pitched low enough that even though Nickie had left his bedroom door open, only I would hear her.
I dropped my voice, too. “You’re not making coffee! You’re just confusing his aural sensors with background noise. That’s false advertising, sister.”
“If you tell me the plan now—all of it—I can help.”
“What are you going to do if he has noise filters?” I asked.
“Filters weren’t available upgrades until six years after we were born,” she said. “Tell me what you’re planning to do to Nick.”
“You’ve got o
ne suspicious mind, Carina. I asked Nickie-boy along because he’s a wall of meat and I want him between me and the dangers of the Dead Estuaries. Wouldn’t you?”
The muscle in her unscarred jaw ticked. “I swear to God, Van Zandt, if you hurt him, it will be the last bad decision you ever make.”
“You know I’d get away from you,” I said.
“Do I?”
“I can disappear.”
“For how long?”
The tendrils of a grin crept across my face. “You know why you love me, Carina? Because we’re kindred spirits. The only difference between us—other than your emotional baggage—is that you use your powers for the Guild…until something comes along that you want to defy the Guild for. Then the real Bloodslinger comes out.”
She stopped messing around in the cabinet and faced me. “I don’t love you, Van Zandt. I can’t love anyone I can’t trust.”
In the bedroom, a drawer slammed hard enough to rattle the flatware in the kitchen cabinets.
“Rough place to start eavesdropping, Nickie-boy,” I called. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s lying. The Bloodslinger doesn’t trust anybody. You’d think your past with her would’ve clued you in to that little fact by now.”
Another drawer slammed.
I smirked at Carina. “Jeez, who brought that kid?”
“Stop.” Her green eyes locked onto mine. “We’re not friends or ex-lovers or whatever narrative you’re building in your head around us. Step out of your fantasy world for a second and take a serious look at reality.”
A cold spot froze the space between my gut and my sternum. I reached past Carina to the sink and cranked the water on. This was for her ears only.
“Don’t give me that bologna. I know you, Carina. I know you better than you know yourself. I sure as hell know you better than that siltbrain in there does.”
She knocked my hand out of the way and shut the water off. “You only know what I showed you. Nobody looks past what they want to see—especially not narcissists who only want to see their own beloved faces reflected back at them. You have no idea who I am, Van Zandt, just who you wish I would be.”
