Will pulled up again. “So what you’re saying is, it finds—and let me be melodramatic—evil people and draws them to you, so I can deal with them?”
A small breeze swirled Ryan’s chestnut hair around his face. “That’s pretty much it, yes.”
Squeezing his eyes so tight he saw white behind his lids, Will shook his head. How could this be happening? It was impossible. There was no way he could protect Ryan.
“You’re mad, aren’t you?”
“Not at you.” Never at Ryan.
“Will?” The voice was small, timid, almost in pain.
He didn’t open his eyes, but felt Ryan’s hands cup his face.
“Talk to me, please. I can feel you’re in pain. You’re bleeding emotions.” The concern in his boyfriend’s voice forced him to confront reality.
He tried to lock down his emotions, center himself away from his fears. “I can’t do this, Ryan. I just can’t.”
“Can’t do what?” Ryan had that playful smile he wore when he was teasing. “Can’t talk to me?”
“Stop, please. No jokes.” It was harsh, but he felt his world collapsing around him. This was David again, only this time, he would have to watch it happen. And this time, if Will snapped, he would be a danger to everyone.
“What else can I do but make light of this?” Slowly, Ryan rubbed the side of Will’s face. “You’re hurting, but you won’t talk to me.”
He wanted to scream, vent his anger at the world. How could It do this to him? Worse, how could They do it to Ryan?
“Faggots!” The word, spat from behind him, dripped with the hate he’d felt often enough, but always ignored. This was different. Not only was it directed at Ryan, the speaker was drawn to them.
Releasing Ryan, he spun so fast, the man behind him couldn’t react. Will’s right hand wrapped tightly, squeezing the throat as he hauled the man off his feet. Green eyes bulged beneath a balding head. The light-brown hair looked dirty, just like his clothing.
Stocky was a word heavy people used to describe themselves, and this “stocky” person’s weight was adding to the downward pressure around Will’s hand. His neck might snap if Will held him too long. What a tragedy.
Probing the struggling man’s mind, Will quickly found several violent memories. “Curt,” that was the man’s name, and his friends were responsible for several gay bashings, one that put a victim in a coma.
“Will?” Ryan’s voice stopped his probe. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Too late for him,” Will said. “Your Purpose drew him to us. He’s beaten several gay men, one almost to death. I can’t let him just go.”
“What are you going to do?” The discomfort Ryan felt was leaking from his mind.
Lowering Curt, Will “told” the man to stand still. “The better question is what do you want me to do to him? There’s no need for me to do anything, but your Purpose brought him to us for a reason.”
His upper lip pinched between his teeth, Ryan’s eyes turned glassy. Will sensed he was searching for answers inside. Hard to believe he’d find any there. Ryan’s Purpose never had a host long enough to do its bidding.
“Griffin.” Ryan blinked twice before staring into Will’s eyes. “You said he worked violent crimes. Wouldn’t a gay bashing count?”
The suggestion made sense, but would it be enough? “Are you sure It will accept this as a solution?”
At first, all Will got was a shrug. Ryan withdrew again but returned quickly. “No, I’m not sure, but I don’t feel an urgent need to act. Whatever you do, I think It will be satisfied.”
“Fine”—he dug out his phone to call the detective—“but if that changes, you need to tell me immediately. Agreed?”
He noted Ryan’s nod of agreement as the phone rang. Pulling details from Curt’s mind, he almost missed Griffin answering the call.
“Good morning, Detective. I’ve solved another open case for you.”
WILL filled two glasses with water and put the pitcher back in the refrigerator. He turned and saw Ryan seated at the dining room table. Will’s footsteps seemed to bring Ryan back from a deep thought.
“Isn’t there a way to turn it off?” Not that he could turn his Purpose off.
Accepting a glass, Ryan sighed. “Not sure, but I haven’t asked.”
Will wasn’t optimistic. The answers Ryan’s Purpose provided were vague at best. Even if there was a way, It might not be able to convey it in a manner Ryan or Will would understand.
“What about block it? If you can’t, what then? Should we expect to be attacked in the middle of the night when we’re sleeping?” Will could go days without sleep. He might need to start now, just to be certain Ryan was safe.
“No, I can’t block it. At least not that I’ve figured out so far.” He nearly drained his glass before setting it down. “But I did ask if there were any safe places I could go where It wouldn’t attract violence toward me.”
Glass to his lips, Will waited for the answer. “And? Did It answer you?”
“Yes, here.”
“Here? You mean this building is like sacred ground or something?” He knew that wasn’t what Ryan meant, but he wanted to show why one-word answers were so frustrating.
Rolling his eyes, Ryan stood up and went into the kitchen. “Exactly.” Opening a cabinet, his face was hidden from Will. “This place is that one in a billion, and fortune smiled on me when you brought me here.”
Will smiled. The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t too forced. “Well then, if that’s settled, how about we talk about tomorrow’s training schedule? I have a few ideas on how to bump up the intensity.”
“You’re so evil.” Box of cereal in hand, Ryan collected a bowl, spoon, and then the milk. “Home, silly. It doesn’t bring anyone to its host’s home.”
“It knows we live here and declared this place off-limits?” If that were true, Ryan’s Purpose was not only more sentient, it was more considerate as well.
“Something like that. Answers are, as I’ve said before, open to interpretation.” He put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and crunched away. “I wish you’d read my mind again so you could see the images for yourself. Bet you’d understand them better than me.”
He wouldn’t enter Ryan’s thoughts again unless it was a matter of life or death. David’s memories, all of them, were in there. “So far, you’re doing fine without me.”
For a moment, it looked to Will as though Ryan wanted to say something. Instead, he shoveled more food into his mouth.
Will used Ryan’s silence to make a point about what they had learned so far. “Hopefully, now you see why I wanted you to stay inside rather than walk down to Jolt ’N Bolt alone.”
“Whatever.” Tilting the bowl back, Ryan drained the last of the milk. “But don’t think you’re canceling the live demonstration. After we clean up, you promised we’d go back to see what happens.”
Will nodded. If Ryan thought this was going to be a clinical observation, he was mistaken. Coming home first allowed him to collect weapons he was certain they would need. “Don’t worry, I’m not. We’ll head over in an hour.”
Nothing good would come of this, but it was too late to change things now. Ryan was hell-bent on going, something that filled Will with a sense of dread. All Will could envision was sorrow, heartache, and loss. Just like with David.
24
April 6, 2010 Entry 39-29
ANOTHER first. I’m out on a “mission,” but there’s no body, no one dead, and my Purpose is quiet. This time, it’s Ryan’s Purpose that has me out. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening.
According to Ryan, his Purpose will draw out the bad elements and lead them to me. At least I hope it’s me they’re drawn to, and not Ryan. Another thing I don’t like: his life in danger.
His choice of neighborhoods, 7th and O, 5th and O, tells me he—or his Purpose—knows what they are doing. And that scares me. The two housing projects are separated by one square block. You’d think both places were d
esirable, the way these two groups beef. And when they beef, it usually turns deadly.
Ryan has the good sense to be cautious. Good, he’ll have a better chance of surviving if he keeps that attitude. What worries me most is the unknown. How this will play out is a mystery. I don’t like mysteries.
For the first time on a mission in I don’t know how long, I’m anxious. My hands keep checking my hidden pockets to be sure the weapons that were there five minutes ago are still there. Stupid, crazy, but it helps calm me—at least a little.
These two projects are so different. The tall towers of 7th and O are a relic of the old, “make ’em big,” housing projects that were once popular. Three-story buildings ringing a common area marked the change in public housing philosophy. That was 5th and O. Different concept, same result. Both have their crews to “protect” their turf.
I make us walk down 6th Street, NW. Neutral ground? I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Guess we’re about to find out.
“Are we hidden?” Ryan’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.
Before I answer, I check. “Yes, people are ignoring us.”
We’re almost there, when the feeling nearly drops me. It’s the same sensation I felt when I first met Ryan. Unprepared, I stagger, drawing a worried stare from Ryan.
“What’s wrong?” He has no idea. His eyes show no recognition. How can this be right? How could his Purpose thrust him into danger without even letting him know it’s coming?
The logical part of my brain integrates this new information, crowding out my ability to answer. In an instant, it’s clear to me how hopeless this situation has become. There is no escape.
“Will! What’s wrong?” Ryan’s voice has an edge of panic. “You’re doing it again!”
I realize he’s talking to me, and I snap my head around to look at him. “Sorry, I felt it again.”
“Felt it? Felt what?”
Still no clue. “I felt your Purpose calling me, telling me you’re in danger.”
“Me?” He looks around us as if he could see what was coming. “I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s because it’s calling me to protect you.” I touch the black box at his waist with my mind, and without him knowing, I tell it to project a small black dog. If he loses his focus, and he will, they still won’t find him.
The question Ryan is about to ask dies on his lips. They’re here.
Groups emerge in dense clusters from both projects. All eyes are trained in our direction. I feel their confusion and anger, but what shocks me more is the confusion I feel coming from Ryan. No, not Ryan, but his Purpose.
I grab Ryan by the arm. “You need to leave.”
“What?”
“You need to go, now! Something’s wrong.” Very wrong. “Can’t you sense how unsure your Purpose is right now? This”—I wave toward the two groups, hoping he’ll figure it out—“isn’t what It intended.”
There is confusion on his face, panic too. Finally, he gets it. “You’re right. This isn’t what It expected. We need to go.”
“Ryan, I can’t leave. There are too many innocent people around, people your Purpose put in danger.” I’m not sure what I can do, but I have to try.
He’s not going to listen. Just a few weeks together, and I know his body language. “Will, you can’t stay. There must be close to a hundred of them.”
There isn’t time to argue. I clamp down on his mind. His defenses are barely a delay. “I’m sorry, Ryan, but you have to go. You aren’t prepared for this.”
His body jerks as he struggles against my command. It won’t take long for him to overcome my control, but by then this should be over. Step by step, he moves away.
“Will, stop doing this!” My control over his mind is enough that he can’t turn his head. Good, I don’t want to see the hurt.
“Sorry, Ryan, but I’m not going to risk losing you.” Am I being stupid? He’ll be mad, and I could lose him anyway.
I push aside such thoughts. Right now, a gang war is about to break out. There are too many for me to seize their minds. Even if I could, I’m not sure I could overcome what Ryan’s Purpose started.
It’s Ryan they want, or at least that was how this started. If I let them see “him,” maybe I can focus their attention away from everyone except themselves and me.
The prospect of being shot multiple times in the front and back doesn’t appeal to me, but the options are few. Besides, I don’t plan on getting shot.
Moving between the two groups, I can feel their hatred. It has them in a frenzy. If Ryan wasn’t involved, I’d let them kill the host and leave that Purpose disembodied, permanently.
“Ryan’s” sudden appearance shocks them, most of them, anyway. I’m all they see now, the focus of their rage. Guns are drawn, pointed at me, and conveniently at each other. Good thing I can move fast.
Now that I have their attention, I’m able to project a mass illusion. I’m still between them. They see “Ryan” even as I use my speed and reflexes to get clear of the gauntlet. There will be casualties, probably a lot, but hopefully it will be limited to the participants and not an innocent.
Tires squeal as passersby see the weapons. They want nothing to do with this. Smart people. I hope more than a few call the police. Nothing breaks up a shootout like the sound of sirens descending on a neighborhood.
Shots echo around me. Dozens of bullets are fired. Bodies drop, and people run. I’m about to go find Ryan when I notice something, something bad.
The boys of 5th and O had fewer guns, significantly fewer. More of their members were hit, many more. Like any good army, 7th and O presses its advantage, chasing their rivals back.
I try to tell myself this is not my fight, but there are too many innocents in the unprotected apartments where the battle is headed. Family members, children, people not involved in this beef.
His Purpose did this. Why?
No time for questions. Pulling my tonfa, I race the others to the complex. The 5th and O boys are in headlong retreat, firing wildly behind them as they run. Bodies continue to drop, but I ignore them. No vengeance is needed for the guilty who fall.
I make it to the gap in the buildings before either side. Standing to the side, I let those returning home make for their hiding places before stepping out. They don’t see me until I’m only a few feet away, too late for them.
The heavy wood of my tonfa are a blur as I lay into these would-be invaders. When this is over, they’ll wonder why they attacked and won’t be able to articulate what happened. I target the ones with guns first, which is almost all of them. Twice, I feel shots hit me, a small sting but nothing to slow me down.
Only a few are left, and they decide to run for home when I’m hit from behind. The 5th and O crew has found their courage, sort of. Now that I’ve turned the odds in their favor, they start firing from behind the walls. I shouldn’t expect different from cowards.
Bodies lie around me, most too hurt to flee. I could leave them, should leave them to their fate, but even the guilty don’t deserve an execution. Disappearing again, I wait for the rats to emerge, looking for carcasses to feast upon. If they come closer, they’re in for a surprise.
Sirens fill the courtyard. This many shots had to bring a response. Those who are still able rush to the safety of their homes. No one will admit they were here or that they saw anything. Typical. Who said there is no honor among thieves?
It’s my time to flee, and I leave. Better to keep my involvement a secret. On its face, this won’t feel like I’m involved. No reason to let the authorities think otherwise.
Leaving, I know the real problem still remains. Ryan’s Purpose caused this.
I take a moment to locate Ryan. He’s stopped five blocks away. I want to take my time, but don’t want him coming back to the scene, so I run. As I expected, he’s overcome my compulsion, but must be wondering where to find me.
Anger, powerful anger, radiates from him. Better for him to be mad at me than be hurt in
the fight. Once he calms down, he’ll see I was right.
“How dare you!” His slap barely registers. “You had no right to do that to me.”
Perhaps I was wrong. “I had every right. You weren’t listening.”
“I’m not your servant, Will. You don’t bark orders and I have to obey.” He’s scared, and it’s fueling this irrational response.
“Ryan, calm down.” It won’t help, but I have to try.
“No! We agreed—”
“Stop!” This is too much. He’s too stubborn. The fear I pushed aside returns. It hits with such force I step back.
Ryan probably thinks I stopped to avoid his wrath. Natural reaction, but nothing close to true. Soon, I won’t be able to force him to leave. He’ll be too strong. What then? He can’t do what I do. It will take years, maybe decades, for him to be as invulnerable as I am.
Worse, what if his Purpose incites this type of incident and I’m not around? There are dozens of neighborhoods with large crews. What then?
Ryan’s staring at me, anger barely controlled. “You still don’t get it. Despite what you think, you’re not ready. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“Just because you think your motive is good, you still don’t have the right to force me to do what you want. That’s not how people who care for each other act.”
Thoughts bounce around my head. He’s going to get himself killed. It is going to get him killed. Neither seems to care. They haven’t lived through the death of a loved one. I did. I lost David to the thing inside Ryan. It nearly killed me.
This time it will be worse. Then, I didn’t know why David died. It, They, care nothing for us or what it costs to be a host. His Purpose is sending him out to die. I can’t live through it again. Not like this.
Fear and anger make it hard to breathe. Forcing myself to inhale deeply, I focus on the one thing that will calm me: Gar. I remember why I turned to him. If I don’t care, it can’t hurt.
“What the fuck just happened?” Ryan’s eyes narrow. He’s examining me. “What did you just do?”
Purpose Page 19
