CHAPTER 31
1919 THE CITADEL, AGE 42
R eady?" Dawn had knocked on my door and waited until I had opened it. It was taking some getting used to, this politeness from her. It felt artificial and I continued to look over my shoulder, figuratively speaking.
"Yes," I said, motioning for her to enter. I had my backpack prepared and grabbed my jacket. Germany would be getting chilly this time of year.
"We're flying." Dawn watched my reaction. I did not hide my fear. "Trust me," she said. "It's not as bad as you think. Quite a bit of fun, actually."
"If you say so," I said. My thoughts were a whirlwind of images, most of which were of downward spirals and crushed, burning heaps of twisted metal. I had never flown before. I'd never had reason to.
"Best get used to it," Dawn said, whirling about to leave the room. "I expect it will be the preferred travel method of the future."
"Fucking Wright brothers," I muttered, closing the door behind me.
We had been briefed on the mission by the magistrate, himself. Gregor Waltz had stolen a record-keeping book from the magistrate's quarters, marking the man as not only a thief but a traitor as well. Charges of sedition carried the highest punishment allowed by the Valensi: chaining.
Death was not enough for someone who blatantly took a stance against us. No. Traitors were sentenced to die in the worst possible way. They would be chained to a tree to await the sunrise. A slow painful death was that by sunlight. The fiction stories that frightened little children and adults alike, the ones that described vampires as exploding upon exposure to the sun, they were bullshit. So much fantasy birthed from fears of the unknown.
In truth, our skin was simply much more sensitive to the ultraviolet rays of the sun. Whereas most people face sunburn, we would face severe sunburn to the point of deterioration of the pigment cells and then the epidermis itself. Not a pretty sight and a horrible way to die.
It seemed that whatever Waltz wanted from the record book was worth his life. Our orders were specifically clear however. Retrieve the book, eliminate Waltz. No trial. No chaining.
"What do you think is in the book that Waltz would risk his life like this?" I asked, before thinking. Too many questions make our kind nervous. It's instinct more than anything. Secretive is at the top of the list of adjectives describing the Valensi. For good reason.
"What do you care?" Dawn asked, turning to catch my eye.
"Don't really. but, is there anything you can think of for which you would risk the same? I can't."
"Some people are impossible to understand. Their motives are just shy of insane, if not completely so. All I know is the book is property of the Valensi. The magistrate's, specifically. If there is anything in there that would risk his life or the safety of us all, then there is but one option. Our mission is simple."
"True enough," I agreed.
We turned a corner and entered the hallway that led to the outside. In the distance, I could hear an automobile engine idling. It would take us to the airstrip from where we would depart en route to Germany. We had intelligence leading to where Waltz was holed up. No one would touch him until we got there. Then, it was on us.
Once on the plane, I could not stop my hands from shaking. My grip on the armrests of the chair in which I sat was so great that I heard a crack before I realized I was squeezing it to breaking point. Dawn looked over at me.
"Relax, damn it."
I turned inward and began my breathing techniques. The mechanical buzzing of the world melted away just as the wheels left the ground. My thoughts faded back to the memories of my recent training sessions with the magistrate.
CHAPTER 32
1919, THE CITADEL, AGE 42
C oncentrate." The order came from a frustrated Magistrate.
We had been at it for hours. I had reached a level where I could block entry into my mind at a moment's notice but, now, I was trying to break into the magistrate's. He claimed he wasn't blocking me in any way. I still felt the barrier.
"Relax, young Paris," he said, his voice softening a little. "You're on the right track. You must learn to focus, to ease in. You cannot, should not, burst through a mind's door with the stealth of a drunken rhino. You could permanently damage the recipient.
"Let yourself flow outward, don't push. Float. Seep. Slip in silently, without haste."
I willed myself calm once again, shook out my limbs and refocused. My thoughts slipped free of my own mind and drifted toward the magistrate. There was a sense of hope, of frustration, of pride. Perhaps I was doing something right. I could see faint images of the Headmistress in a hallway. Then, with a jolt of recognition, I saw myself. Younger, looking up at myself. It was the meeting he and I had had just before my graduation, the fight with Salem.
"Wow." I said.
"Nicely done!" he said.
CHAPTER 33
1919, THE CITADEL, AGE 42
I t was Altweibersommer in Germany. Indian summer. The last nice days before winter laid its icy hands on the land. Colder temperatures didn't bother me as much as when I was a child on the streets of Bristol. Still, I had brought a light jacket, just in case. It was unnecessary as it turned out. The days were gloriously vibrant still. The nights, cool and breezy.
The sun had set an hour before we showed up at the cottage where Waltz was located. We met three local Valensi, who had been assigned to guard the house until our arrival. They noted that he had been locked inside for over thirty-six hours, no further sign of him or attempt at leaving. Dawn waved them off, sending them on their way. We would be handling the situation from here on in.
"You take the back. Let's move quickly. If he knows we are out here, we don't want him trying to destroy the book before we can get to him." Dawn scanned the house and area, her bright blue eyes squinting in concentration.
"If he hasn't already," I said.
"Let's keep happy thoughts, shall we?"
I nodded and then sprinted to the back of the two-story cottage. It was in a decent neighborhood from what I could tell. Several houses along the strasse were very similar to Waltz's. I leaped a fence by the side of the house and kicked in the back door, never slowing.
I heard Dawn enter the front, as I bolted through the rooms, searching for Waltz. I had to wonder why someone would turn on their own people the way this man had. It didn't make any sense to me.
My review of his history turned up nothing out of the ordinary except for one small detail. He had never chosen to become Valensi. His wife had been turned by a lover and, yet, she wanted her husband to be with her forever. He refused. One day, he was thrown from a horse and had broken his back. Realizing he would never walk again, would probably die from his injuries much sooner than he should, his wife performed the Birthing against his will.
"Waltz!" Dawn said from the front of the house. "We know you are here. Do not make this any more difficult than it has to be."
I paused in the kitchen. I could make this search a hell of a lot easier. I relaxed, let my mind drift outward, searching for thought. I saw Dawn traipsing through the living room, moving the sofa to look behind it. No stone left unturned. I redirected my search upstairs. Room by room, I soared through the area lightly open to hidden thoughts and emotions. I had found that thoughts could be hidden with practice, but emotions were ever so much more difficult to put a damper on.
Finding no one present upstairs, I refocused. Thinning myself out, I sensed a strange emotion drawing me down. I realized two things: Waltz was not afraid. He was angry. And, he was in the basement.
Signaling Dawn, I motioned to the door in the kitchen, which I now knew ran downstairs. She nodded and led the way. We found Waltz sitting in a chair in the middle of the basement, the glare on his face indicating contempt beyond compare.
"I suppose I knew it wouldn't be long before he sent someone like you." His voice was thick with the local accent, vowels punctuated by the harsh consonants surrounding them.
"We're here for the ledger
," Dawn said, halting a few steps before the man. I couldn't take my eyes from him, amazed at his belligerence before two of the High Guard. Did he know something we didn't? Why was he so calm? "Just give us the book and we leave. Easy as that."
"Scheize! You think I am a fool? The book is all that is keeping you at bay. I'm certain you will enjoy killing me as soon as you have it."
"Fair enough," Dawn said. "Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way..." Her move was immediate and almost faster than even my eye could follow. Her fist connected with Waltz's nose and the crunch echoed off of the brisk walls around us. With a slight huff he fell over backward, out cold.
"Well," she said to me, "let's get to it, then."
We sat him back up in the chair. Dawn retrieved a roll of thin wire from her backpack and tied the man up like she'd been practicing the moves for months. Rope would never have held him. His strength would have snapped it, sure as hell. However, using the thin wire, if he tried to break free, he would only cause the wire to cut through his wrists, possibly the bone as well, depending on how desperate he became.
He regained consciousness just as Dawn pulled out a pair of heavy wire cutters. This girl had come prepared for the worst. I took the chance on interfering.
"Gregor," I said, "Just tell us where the ledger is. You don't need to do this. It's over. Let it go." Dawn glanced at me with an evil eye but kept her tongue and her movement. We waited.
"Bumsen sie!" I frowned at his response. Dawn smiled.
"This little piggy went to market," Dawn said. The wire cutters clamped down on Gregor's left thumb. It fell to the floor as he cried out in pain. Dawn placed the wire cutters over his forefinger. "Where is the ledger, Waltz? Where?"
The man only sniffled, closed his eyes and waited. His forefinger then fell next to the thumb, the small pool of blood beginning to spread. I could not help but wonder at the efficiency of this method of information extraction. In a moment of clarity, I had a better idea.
Against the backdrop of Gregor's screams, I sifted my way into his mind. The pain he was experiencing helped open the path for me. I pushed aside the thoughts of ripping Dawn's throat out—although it did sort of amuse me—and then pushed through his hateful thoughts of the magistrate and the Valensi, in general. Waltz certainly did hate his fate. There was no doubt about that.
I saw the ledger. It was an old, leather-encased book, longer than tall, with thin rawhide strips as binding. I lost it for a moment or two as Gregor succumbed to another round of pain coinciding with one more lost digit. I slipped a little deeper into his thoughts and uncovered the memory of him placing the ledger in a secret nook. I had it.
Now, to uncover the secret without letting Dawn know how I got it. I thought for a long moment and then moved to kneel down in front of Gregor. His eyes opened and focused on me through his tears of pain and anger. Dawn hesitated in her torture.
"Gregor," I said, placing my hands on his knees. "Is this really necessary? Do you hate your fate so much that you would die for scraps of data that mean little or nothing to you?"
"They mean something!" His voice was hoarse but still strong.
"You hid it, the ledger. Right? To keep it safe?" He grew silent. I found I also had Dawn's undivided attention, as well. “But, you would want to be prepared. You're always prepared, aren't you, Gregor?"
The man stared at me. I was being kind. I was seeing him as more than just a doorway to the ledger and he wasn't sure how to react. I saw him bite his lip and avert his eyes. I easily moved back into his field of vision and drew him back to me.
"You'd want to keep it safe. but, you would also want to have it near. Close enough to destroy it if you had to. Right?"
I was leading him and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Dawn caught the movement and moved around to see our faces better. Her eyes darted between me and Gregor. The blood dripped from her instrument of torture but none of us paid it any heed.
"Where would you be able to keep it safe but close enough to destroy? How to be able to destroy a book quickly?" His eyes focused on mine and I smiled. "Ah. Thank you, Gregor. You may go now."
With that, I stood and yanked his head to one side with swift and immediate violence. His neck snapped and he crumpled. I walked over to the workbench in the corner, while Dawn almost shook in rage. I nodded at her as I snapped the wooden handle off of a garden rake and, in a quick and efficient motion, shoved it through Gregor's hearts.
"What? Why? We didn't get the book!" Dawn said, staring at me. I did not fail to notice that her hand tightened on the wire cutters. Still, I shook my head.
"You just have to ask the right questions, look for the right answers. Follow me." I led the way back upstairs. I walked over to the fireplace and felt along the sides until I found the bricks that were slightly loosened. I pulled them aside and retrieved the ledger from inside the hidden nook.
"Son of a bitch." Dawn stood staring at the book. Our eyes met and she smiled. "That was fucking impressive, I admit. Now, let's get the hell out of here."
* * * * *
"Well done." The magistrate held the ledger, still bound up with the rawhide straps. He glanced at the both of us, Dawn and me. "I take it that the contents herein remain in their initial sanctity?"
"Of course, sir," Dawn said. I nodded, as well. I relaxed and let him enter my thoughts, as I knew he would. With a nod, he granted me a slight smile and then addressed Dawn.
"You had no issues, then. The problem was resolved without fuss?"
"Yes, sir," she said. She hesitated for a second. He waited. "Paris did the heavy lifting, so to speak." I held my tongue.
"Whatever do you mean? You were in charge on this assignment. She took your lead, of course?"
"Yes, sir. but in truth she figured out where he had hidden the ledger. She also... She also finished the assignment."
"Impressive. You two deserve a reward. You both have a month off. Do whatever you wish. Travel if you like. You have my thanks and that of the Hierarchy for your service to the people." He swept from the room leaving Dawn and I dumbfounded.
"I need a drink," I said.
CHAPTER 34
PRESENT
I glided along the side streets off of Kirkman and Conroy, making my way into the neighborhood where both Rhett and Sortie lived. I'd gathered from Lieber's mind that he went by the nickname "Sortie." As best I could determine, it was due to his tendency to fire off his gun without care of who might be in the line of fire. The term didn't really match up with what he thought it meant but the boy seemed moronic at best.
Rhett lived in an apartment complex just north of Conroy. I spent an hour ambling around the sidewalks before I picked up his trail. He was headed out to score some beers. I followed him at a distance. Just as he arrived at his piece of shit car, with the bright chrome wheels that were probably worth more than the entire vehicle, I pinned him to the door. My hands went over his; my superhuman strength was like anvils gluing him in place against the vehicle.
"You've been a bad boy, Rhett," I whispered in his ear. When he tried to voice his protest, I slammed my forehead against the back his head with enough force to daze the little prick into silence. "You fucked up, son. You ran with the wrong crew and ended up getting my friend killed last night. My only friend within thousands of miles and you bastards took her away from me. You know what that means, right, asshole?"
"Wha—" he began.
"It means I get to take you away from your friends and family. Fair is fair."
Increasing my grip around his left hand, I let his right slip free. He whined in pain as my small hand began to crack the bones in his. "Go ahead. Unlock the door."
Rhett fumbled with his keys, finally managing to get the driver's side door open. The car was an older Cutlass, maybe mid-seventies. Holding him in place, I reached around Rhett, pulled up the driver's seat, shoved him into the back and followed in on top of him. It took but a single punch to knock the young man out. He crumpled back and I pulled the doo
r shut, giving us a modicum of privacy.
I did not necessarily need to feed; however, I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, either. Since I had another stop to make tonight, I made sure to keep this death clean. Besides, the little bastard deserved it, as circumstances proscribed.
After a brief touch-up in the center mirror of the Cutlass, I left Rhett still bleeding out in the back seat. I closed and locked the door, making certain we hadn't been seen. Even as I walked away, I could feel the life seeping from him. I paused to try and catch a glimpse of what he might be seeing as he faded from this world. Nothing but blackness. I headed north on Kirkman with my thoughts pondering the evidence at hand.
CHAPTER 35
1920, THE CITADEL, AGE 43
I was glad to see that Dawn and I were getting along better after the Germany assignment. I was so tempted to slip into her head but resisted for the simple fact that we were on the same side. There was no reason for me to feel any threat from her. She seemed to respect my actions in Germany, my finding the ledger, killing Waltz without hesitation. I suppose she'd just been looking for some sign that we were on the same page. Now she had it.
I spent the next year working for the magistrate, running errands, learning from him, protecting him from unwanted attention. Our sessions steadily grew more advanced and I picked up on the feeling that he was more than pleased with my progress. I enjoyed learning to expand my talents, being able to slip into others' thoughts without notice. I even progressed to a level that frightened me a bit.
"Focus on something you would like him to do," the magistrate instructed during one of our advanced sessions. He indicated the human subject who sat staring at us with glazed eyes.
The Waif's Tale (Valence of Infinity Book 1) Page 10
