by Darren Shan
I faced a constant stream of meetings with public officials, on top of the head-to-heads with Ford Tasso and Eugene Davern at Party Central. I involved Sard and the other Cobras as much as I could, getting them accustomed to the politics of self-control, but as the Sapa Inca my presence was expected. I had no intention of saddling myself with the job in the long run, but in the short term there was nothing for it but to bite down hard and go with the flow. No point rescuing people from the wolves only to leave them for the vultures.
Raimi returned on Friday, fresh and unscarred. Tasso stepped aside without a murmur and The Cardinal was soon locked in negotiations with Davern and Sard. When anyone asked where he’d been, he grinned and replied, “On vacation.”
It soon became clear that The Cardinal had changed, and everyone agreed it was for the better. Before his disappearance he’d been arrogant and aloof, conferring only with the elite in Party Central, having nothing to do with the ordinary people, spurning media interviews. Now he was on the news all the time, pitching in to rebuild the east, sponsoring shelters to house the homeless, liaising between the Troops, Kluxers and Snakes. He also worked closely with the police, even going so far as to publicly run Stuart Jordan out of the city and allow an honest cop to replace him.
I have my doubts about how long The Cardinal’s change of heart will last. He’s come through a terrible ordeal, and I think he’s overcompensating for the torment he endured. It’s probably only a matter of time before his old personality reasserts itself. But I keep my doubts to myself. Everyone thinks he’s a new man, and that gives them hope—if The Cardinal can change, anyone can. I don’t have the heart to piss on their parade.
It’s a beautiful June day, and all’s well. So well, I’ve decided to cut out before the job takes me over and I find myself stuck here, head of the Snakes for life, tied to this city until the day I die. The east’s at peace, the gangs have been brought under the thumb of the Snakes, there’s harmony between them, the Kluxers and the Troops. I’m not needed any longer. Time to pass control of the Snakes over to themselves and hope they don’t go wild with power.
As Al Jeery, I told Flo and Drake of my decision last night, and sat up late with them, drinking and reminiscing about Fabio and the past. Now, as Paucar Wami, I tell Sard and install him as leader of the Snakes. He asks me to reconsider but he doesn’t plead. I’ve spent a lot of time with Sard, and I think he’s come to realize I’m not the immortal Sapa Inca. He’s never mentioned the man he saw in the cavern, but I’m pretty sure he knows that the “double” was the real Paucar Wami. He acts as if I’m their leader, but I sense his relief when I say I’m leaving. He doesn’t want the others figuring it out and splintering.
“What will I tell them?” he asks. “How will I explain your departure?”
“Just say I’ve gone away. That will be explanation enough. The Sapa Inca does not have to account for his actions.”
After passing the baton of power to Sard, I drop by the abandoned police station where my father has been hanging out and find him perched on the rafters, paring his nails. “You can leave now,” I tell him.
He drops to the floor and faces me. “You no longer require my services?”
“Peace has been restored and life’s moving on. I have no need of you.”
“Once I go, you will never again be able to find me.”
I smile thinly. “I’ll never wish to.”
“Al m’boy,” he purrs. “If I did not know better, I could almost believe you were anxious to see the back of your dear ol’ pappy.”
“I don’t know what gave you that idea,” I laugh.
Wami grows thoughtful. “There was something I failed to consider when Raimi went after the Coya. By blowing her up, he should have blown up my doll too, thus destroying me. Yet here I am. What do you suppose happened to it?”
I shrug. “She probably dropped it while they were fleeing.”
“I thought about that. I returned to the tunnels and retraced their route. I did not find it.”
“Then it must be buried under the rubble, trapped in an air pocket. You always did have the luck of the devil.”
“The dark one favors his own,” Wami chuckles, then waves his worries away. “It has been fun, Al m’boy. I will miss you, and I mean that sincerely.”
“In a strange sort of way, I’ll miss you too,” I mutter, gazing at his shaved head, his cruel lips, the tattoos, his cynical green eyes, one final time. “If I begged you to stop killing,” I blurt out suddenly, “do you think you could?”
“Of course not,” he says. “Why make such an absurd request?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “Guess I’m getting soft in my old age.” I offer my hand. “Take care, you evil-hearted son of a bitch.”
“You too, O misdirected spawn of my loins,” he grins, clasping my hand. “You could have been a legend, Al m’boy.”
“It’s better to be human,” I reply.
“Perhaps,” he says, releasing me. “That, however, is something I could never aspire to. I was made to be vile.” Stepping back, the assassin salutes, turns, walks through the door and slips away, never to be seen in these parts again.
Ama’s face lights up when I walk into Cafran’s, my tattoos painted over, stubble coating my skull, the beginnings of a new head of hair, my first in a decade. I don’t know what it will look like—I imagine I’ll have more than my fair share of gray—but it’ll be interesting to find out.
“Howdy, stranger,” she greets me, standing on her toes to kiss my cheek. I haven’t seen much of her lately. I’ve been busy elsewhere.
“How are you doing?” I ask as she leads me to the back, out of earshot of the busy lunch crowd.
“Can’t complain. Business is good, the city’s booming, Cafran’s bought a new restaurant and has said I can run it. I’ve got my life back.”
“I hope you take care of it this time. It’s your last.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of wasting it.” We nudge into an alcove in the kitchen, out of the pathway of the waiters. “What’s happening with you?” she asks. “How’s the dividing-up of the city going?”
“Pretty good. I’m going to see Raimi after this, bid him farewell and warn—”
“Farewell?” she interrupts. “You’re leaving?”
“This afternoon. I’ll catch a train out.”
“Where to?”
I shrug. “Away.”
“You’re not coming back?”
“Don’t intend to.”
She stares at me in silence, then smiles. “Good!” She takes hold of my hands and squeezes. “Don’t return, no matter what happens. You’ve served your time and done all you could for this city. You owe it nothing more.”
“That’s the way I figure it too. It’s why I’m going to see Raimi, to clear it with him.”
“How is Capac?” she asks hesitantly.
“You haven’t been to see him?”
She shakes her head. “I’m afraid. I know people say he’s changed, that he’s a new man, but…”
“An Ayuamarcan can’t change. He is what he was made to be—The Cardinal. He can be benevolent when it suits his purpose, but when the time comes to be ruthless again, he will be.”
“I feel sorry for him,” she mutters, then coughs. “Can I come with you? I don’t want to face him on my own, not the first time. If you don’t want me in the way, I’ll understand, but—”
“No problem,” I tell her. “I wasn’t looking forward to being alone with him either. I’d appreciate the company.”
“We’re a pair of fools, aren’t we?” she giggles. “If we’re that afraid of him, we should have left him underground, in the hands of the Coya.”
“No,” I disagree, stepping out of the alcove. “Raimi’s dangerous, but she was worse. He’s the lesser of two evils. And in this city, that’s as good as it’s ever going to get.”
2
lonely at the top
I stand by the window, gazing d
own on my city, drawing out the moment. Mags buzzed me a few minutes ago, while I was in conference with a couple of Davern’s men, to say that Al Jeery and Ama Situwa wished to see me. I brought the discussion to a swift conclusion, but I’ve kept the pair waiting while I compose myself. I’m almost as nervous at the prospect of sitting down with Ama now as I was when The Cardinal first summoned me to Party Central that long, eventful decade-plus ago.
Far across the way, cranes are working on the Manco Capac statue, dismantling it. I’m going to remove every trace of the Incas from this city, starting with the glorious centerpiece that was meant to herald the dawn of their all-powerful reign. By the time I’m finished they’ll have disappeared as completely as the Ayuamarcans. Nobody will ever know they were here, except me—and in time, perhaps even I’ll forget. I’ve plenty of time for forgetting.
Turning my back on the statue, I walk to the door and open it. Jeery and Ama are chatting with Mags. I study them, unnoticed, then call out, “The doctor will see you now!”
Ama flinches, but Jeery regards me calmly. “Mr. Raimi,” he greets me with his usual cautious show of respect.
“I told you, call me Capac.” Holding the door wide, I gesture them in. As they pass, I tell Mags not to disturb me. “Not for anybody or anything.”
“Sure thing, boss,” she smiles.
Jeery and Ama are taking their seats when I close the door. I walk around them and lean against my desk, gaze settling instantly on Ama. I know it’s an embedded reaction, that I’m only attracted to her because I was designed to be, but knowledge can’t stop the excited flutter of my heart.
“How have you been?” I ask.
“All right,” she replies neutrally.
“Still with Cafran?” She nods. “I must call and see him sometime.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
I shrug, trying not to show that her words stung me, and face Jeery. “This is the first time you’ve come without any of your Snakes, the first time we can speak freely, one to one. Do you want to discuss the future now?”
“What’s there to discuss?” he asks.
“You. Me. How we share the city.”
“I thought it was already being shared.”
I laugh. “That won’t last. A year or two from now the Kluxers will be back at the throats of the blacks and the Snakes will disintegrate into factions. It’s the way it’s always been.”
“But not the way it will be,” Jeery grunts. “You’ll see to that. You’ll keep them in check, act as the go-between, chastise them when they step out of line, reward them when they play ball.”
“Why should I?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure. But you will, until it suits you not to. We’ve had our fill of chaos, enough to last a lifetime. Of course, you’ve many lifetimes to look forward to, and I’m sure you’ll stir things up again someday when you get bored. But for the time being I think you’d like to keep it peaceful, secure your clutch on the city, bring the Kluxers and Snakes fully into the fold, so you can use them as you’ll use the Troops—to conquer the world.”
I stare at Jeery, impressed. He’s read my intentions with eerie accuracy. This is a time for consolidation. It’s what I was working toward before the Incas abducted me, only then I was fighting Davern and the gangs in the east, even my own disenchanted people. Now that I have them working with me, it should be possible to grow serenely. Eventually the conflict will start afresh, when we try to take over other cities, but for the next few decades we need to build quietly and unobtrusively.
“Where do you see yourself fitting in?” I ask.
Jeery smiles. “I don’t. This is your city and you’re welcome to it. I want out.”
“Out? Out where?”
“I’m leaving,” he says. “This afternoon, as soon as I’m finished here. That’s what I came to tell you. I know the villacs were building me up to be your human counterpart—the first of an endless number of Sapa Incas, loyal lieutenants bound to you by blood—but I’m not interested. I set out to put a stop to the riots—I did. I wanted to free the Snakes, so they could operate independently and protect the interests of my people—that’s been achieved. The villacs are history. As for the rest, I couldn’t care less.”
“You plan to just walk away?” I ask, startled.
“Yeah.”
“But…” I pause. I was worried about placating this man, not sure how I’d keep him happy and at arm’s length at the same time. I should be delighted that he’s quitting, but I’m not. Part of me wants him to stay. The Incas thought I needed a partner. I never trusted those blind meddlers, but they were experts at understanding people and sensing their weaknesses. They believed I was incapable of ruling alone. Do I have an Achilles’ heel? Will I one day regret it if I let this man go?
“You don’t have to leave,” I tell him. “You could stay, if not as leader of the Snakes, then as part of the Troops. That’s what Dorak wanted. He saw you as a replacement for Frank Weld.”
“How do you figure that?” Jeery snorts.
“It was in his notes, the private files only I have access to.”
“Head of the Troops…” He winces. “No thanks.”
“Some other position?”
“No.” His eyes—their natural color now, minus the contact lenses—are firm. “I’ve had enough. I want out.”
“As you please,” I sigh. “That just leaves us with your payment to settle.”
“Payment?” he echoes.
“Ford Tasso hired you to find and rescue me, which you did. In return, he said he’d tell you where Bill Casey could be found. I decided to spare him that job and reward you myself. This contains the address.” Smiling smugly, I hold out an envelope that I prepared last week, knowing this day would come, but he doesn’t reach for it.
“I already tracked Bill down,” he says softly.
I blink, astonished. “When?”
“Shortly after the riots started.”
“Did you kill him?”
“That’s my business, not yours,” he retorts.
“Prickly customer, aren’t you?” I mutter sourly, but inside I’m grinning. I like Al Jeery. He’s not rotten at the core or interested only in what he can get out of life. He’s a good man, better than most I know—far better than me—yet with the drive and determination of a demon. A dangerous foe, as the Incas found out to their cost, but a powerful ally. I wish I could convince him to stay.
“Very well.” I clasp my hands, then open them. “You’re free. Go with my blessing. If you ever need help, I’ll be here and I’ll do what I can. But I won’t come looking for you. I won’t drag you back.”
“Thanks.” He stands and hands me a credit card. “Ford gave me that. I withdrew some cash earlier, to get me started. Is that OK?”
“Christ, Jeery, keep the damn thing,” I laugh. “You’ve earned it.”
“No,” he says tightly. “I don’t want your money. I’ll make my own way. I’m not sure how, but I’ll figure it out as I go along.”
“As you wish.” I take the card from him and toss it on the desk, then look at Ama and lick my lips. “Would you mind leaving us alone?” I ask Jeery.
“Ama?” he says.
She stares at me coldly, then sighs. “Will you wait for me outside, Al? I won’t be long.”
“OK. Holler if you need me.”
Jeery looks back once, makes a half-wave—I return it—then marches to the door and exits, leaving me alone with the woman whose love I crave, whose hatred I fear.
“Been a long time,” I grin sickly. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”
“You sacrificed me,” she says softly, coming straight to the point. “Dorak put it to you—me or his empire—and you chose the latter.”
“I had to,” I mutter shamefully. “He made me to need this above all else. My choice wasn’t my own—you know that.”
“Do I?” she replies icily. “I love you, Capac”—my hopes flare—“but I don’t want to.” And fade
just as swiftly. “The love’s buried deep within me and I can’t ignore it.”
“Nor can I!” I protest. “I love you now, as I did ten years ago, but I had to put this city first. I’ll always have to. The Cardinal instilled that in me, just as he filled us with love for one another. I’m as helpless as you are.”
“I don’t think so,” she disagrees. “I like to believe you lacked free will. I even argued your case with Al because I don’t want to hate you. But The Cardinal made you differently. You’re unique. I think you had the freedom to choose.”
“You’d have died anyway,” I remind her stiffly. “All the Ayuamarcans did.”
She smiles sadly. “That hardly justifies your choice.”
“I did what I had to,” I insist, but I don’t know if I believe that. For ten years I’ve told myself I was a pawn, but part of me has always queried it. Maybe that’s why I suffer with nightmares in which I relive that moment of choosing and burn with shame at the memory of it.
“Let’s not argue,” Ama says, closing her eyes. “I’m here now. I came back, as I had to. I’m yours. Do with me as you wish.”
I start toward her, to take her in my arms, then stop uncertainly as she opens her eyes and stares at me hollowly. “No,” I croak. “Not like this. It’s not enough that you love me. You’ve got to want me. I won’t take you against your will.”
“You’ll have to,” she says, “because I don’t want you. I’ll never want you. But I love you and I’ll give myself to you. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to endure it—I guess I’ll wind up slashing my wrists in a tub late one night—but you can have me for as long as I last. You’ll get your money’s worth.”
I feel my lower lip quiver and bite down on it quick. I’m The Cardinal, and The Cardinal doesn’t cry, no matter what the circumstances. Steeling myself, I force a sneer. “You flatter yourself if you think I’d give my heart to a whore.”
