by VK Fox
“I’m hoping you won’t disappoint with the second half of this statement.”
Megan spread the fingers on both hands like she was unveiling a prize on The Price is Right, “Decentralized power structures.”
“Well, there you go.” Everest folded his arms. Those were not the three words he would have used to summarize the love of his life.
“Stop being you and listen for a moment, kay?” Everest closed his eyes and worked through a cognitive healthy choice ladder. Megan continued unfazed, “A single entity controlling superior strength, arms, and resources will, on a long enough timeline, oppress those who are inferior. Civilians on the outside or the vulnerable members within the governing entity, yadda, yadda, yadda. Geez, didn’t you guys ever talk about politics?”
“Yes.” Everest refocused on the conversation. This did sound like Adam.
“So one possible solution is a forced redistribution of power.”
Everest’s skin tightened from an internal chill, “Oh my gods.”
“As Adam was actively involved in liberating several books of power from Sana Baba, and since the intended recipient of those books is a sadistic megalomaniac, he thought, why not kill two birds with one stone?”
“He stole the books, but he didn’t drop them where directed. He found a friendly organization to empower.” The gears of Everest’s brain seized. What did this mean for him? Why had Adam kept him in the dark?
“Exactly. Great plan, because the links keep right on ticking like normal until the agent dies. So he has years or decades before the volume is pulled out of the vault again and Sana Baba realizes it’s a fake. Apparently no one was scrutinizing the books deposited in whatever safe house for the psycho boss, because he didn’t get caught on that end either. Well, didn’t get caught for a few years, anyway.”
Megan paused, looking conciliatory. Everest stepped back in case she was tempted to squeeze his arm again. “And as part of Adam’s plan you two were supposed to come away with us. I’m sorry it didn’t happen in time for him, but he had contingencies so you would still be safe. We’ve been working on getting your extraction in place, but now we’ve had to bump up the timeline, so... “ Megan gestured down the trail dramatically, “Will you please do me the honor of accompanying me to the first day of the rest of your life?”
“No.” Everest started to jog away from her, planning to push his speed and shake her off. He could turn over the implications of what she said later, when she wasn’t breathing down his neck.
Megan called after him, “Olive Baum’s missing.” Everest hop-stepped to a halt. Megan grinned indecently, “If you go back into work this morning, it’s the first thing you’ll hear. She went missing from her room last night. The place was trashed, but the report said no bodies. Her disappearance is one of the criteria for activating my contract early. You should come with me. I won’t make you, but it’s for your own good.” Megan managed to wipe the grin and conjure some gravitas for her final bid, “Adam set up a bank account, a safe place for you to stay, and a package I’m supposed to hand off to you. My car’s in the lot. I’ll give you a lift.”
Everest opened his second eye and stared at the future. He saw a clear fork in the path, an unusual occurrence for a single decision, when most choices bled into each other or doubled back. Going with Megan meant a new life, away from every person he had grown up with, worked with, broken bread with, laughed and cried with. It meant leaving his home of twenty-five years to try to begin again with a small band of loners who would welcome him, but who were strangers. But it meant freedom. It meant choices. How it would all turn out, he couldn’t say—there were too many diffusive factors after the fork—but it could be a grand adventure.
Staying meant sacrificing freedom in a painful, degrading slog towards the day when he would stand on a skull and learn two halves of a secret. He would lose his sanity, his will, and his agency. He would never be able to unlearn what was spoken, undo the physical harm done, or fully trust himself again. But Dahl would live.
Turning to Megan, Everest frowned, “May I have only the package?”
Megan groaned, “Fine.” She took a playing card out of her pocket and scribbled a phone number on the back in sharpie. “Call me with when and where. I’ll drop it.” Everest took the card and examined it. The king of hearts. He nodded and ran towards home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Last March - Two Months Ago
Before heading to campus, Everest stopped by the bank and paged London and Palahniuk. Using his second sight informed his course of action, but Olive’s chances weren’t optimistic any way he turned it. This was her best shot: agents he trusted bringing her in and making sure she wasn’t left where anyone could silence her. Olive had learned something last night she shouldn’t know. Making it out alive was no small feat, and she wasn’t going to survive on her current trajectory.
Everest didn’t need Sherlock Holmes-level deduction to puzzle out Mordred must be involved. He also didn’t need Sherlock Holmes drawing conclusions at Olive’s apartment during Sana Baba’s investigation, so sending Owen and Alma into the field was the right move both ways. They were too irreverent and outspoken for conspiracy, so he could trust them, and since they weren’t aware of Mordred, he needed to keep them safely in the dark.
Waiting in a coffee shop they often used for impromptu meetings, Everest tried to eat something and absently took a scalding sip of tea. To be effective he needed to tourniquet the emotional side of the situation, which was going to get far, far worse. Olive might die. He couldn’t tally all the good and bad passed between them, but he knew the world would be a more somber place if she left.
Alma Palahniuk breezed through the glass doors, turning all heads in the room. At twenty years old she was fresh and ethereal. A cloud of albino hair hung above her weightlessly. Ice blue eyes fringed with white lashes over a strong jaw and plump lips gave her the otherworldly ferocity of an avenging apparition. Harem pants and a crop top would be easy to slide out of if she needed to go invisible at the drop of a hat, and her porcelain skin was clean of makeup, jewelry, tattoos, or anything that might betray her position when her flesh became transparent. Everest knew she didn’t even like to eat on the job, mostly taking liquid nutrition which assimilated quickly, but she helped herself to part of his scone as she sat. Everest let it go this time.
Owen enjoyed following behind Alma so he could scrutinize the range of reactions forthcoming from whatever room she entered. He cut a less impressive figure at twenty-something with gelled hair and freckles. Owen preferred people not speak to him, so forgettable worked. He sat next to Alma, giving Everest the once over and then raising his eyebrows expectantly.
Alma broke the silence around a mouthful of scone, “So... what’s up, boss?”
“You’re active immediately and leaving directly from this location without stopping by home base. Any supplies you need can be purchased en route.” Everest spoke in Sumerian for privacy. Not that any of the coffee shop patrons were likely to be gathering information from over their mochas, but it was a simple precaution. He slid a fat manila envelope across the table to the undertone of Alma’s groan, “and before I give you the details of the mission, I want to set the following parameter.” He paused for a second, making eye contact with both agents, “You must maintain complete radio silence during this assignment until one of these two conditions is met: one, Olive Baum is recovered or two, she is confirmed dead. No communications, including communications from me, should be taken, and any orders to alter your mission should be disregarded. If two months elapse and neither condition is met, abort and return to home base. Am I clear?” Two brief nods. His agent’s demeanors sharpened. This was an unusual mission concerning one of their own. Everest was glad to see the pair giving it the gravity it deserved.
Everest went through sparse directions: find Olive, bring her home safe however they saw fit, and start their investigation anywhere but her apartment. He wished them luck and watched
them out the door. Everest tried to let go of the rest; this was the best he could do. Maybe she would know he was trying, even if it didn’t end up being enough. He took a moment to reflect on her laughter, her smell, and her irresistible energy before closing the lid to that box.
Someone was in the bathroom. The sound of cabinets being emptied onto tile met Everest’s ears as soon as he opened the front door. Forcing calm into his limbs, he crept towards the noise. Mordred was shoulders deep under the sink.
“Can I help you find something?” Everest’s voice was worlds calmer than anticipated. He blessed Megan for the warning about events in motion. The short time to brace himself was paying in spades.
Mordred sat back on the floor of the bathroom, smiling impishly. His clothes were a mess, and he was sporting chin stubble and a black eye. “Do you have a razor I could borrow?”
“Sorry, I don’t shave.”
Mordred rose fluidly to his feet and walked in front of Everest, gently stroking his smooth cheek with calloused fingers. He spoke with familiar teasing, “Lies.”
The gesture was stolen and twisted. Everest responded lightly, “An interesting bit of trivia, I know. I’m guessing I am a high percentage native American. Anyhow, I don’t have razors.”
“Adam used them.”
“Adam doesn’t live here anymore. Is there anything else I can get you? You aren’t particularly put together this morning.”
Mordred rolled his head side to side a few times, “Coffee and a shower would be perfect. Then we can finally get back to normal. Our little plan worked. Mummy will be so proud.”
“Our little plan?” He didn’t want to know the twisted logic, but he couldn’t look away.
Mordred giggled. The sound swelled until he clutched his sides and wiped his eyes, gasping. “Oh, God, it was beautiful. Like when Arthur found out about Lancelot and Guinevere, except in this version Arthur and Lancelot made out first. If I live a thousand years, I will never see anything so perfect again.” He put a lingering hand on Everest’s shoulder. He was practically purring, “Thank you.”
Everest swallowed, “So you were wearing him down? Breaking his spirit?”
“Dahl was stronger than I anticipated. All the people who love him—it’s hard to convince someone they’re an empty vessel when their heart is full. But we managed it, thanks to you.” Mordred was uncomfortably close. Everest forced himself not to take a step back. Yielding ground was a mistake.
“Is that what the scars on his arms were? Attempts to degrade him?”
“Partly. I’ll admit, there were moments when I found myself a teensy bit frustrated with our young friend and thought it would be nicer to truncate this attempt and start fresh.”
“So murder by suicide?”
Mordred was fingering a loose piece of Everest’s hair, “Precisely. I’m glad it didn’t work, though. Now he’s mine. Do you know how rare shapeshifting is? It opens so many new possibilities.”
“Take your hand off me.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
Mordred pouted, “Aren’t we at least friends with benefits?”
Everest forced himself to hold perfectly still, unblinking and tense. Mordred stepped back a fraction of a centimeter. “It’s still Dahl’s body.”
“I’m not interested.”
His fingers were feather-light along Everest’s arm, raising goosebumps, “I think you could be. I think I’m going to convince you.” He blew a sooty thread of black smoke across Everest’s closed mouth before pondering, “Now, what would you go for?”
Everest didn’t have to be the alpha, he just had to play the part. He grabbed Mordred’s face, his fingers denting his cheeks, keeping his voice low and calm. In control. He was in control. “Listen carefully, Mordred. If you force this, you lose my cooperation. All the brilliant strategies you’ve been building for this iteration, and you’re going to throw it away to get laid? You’re going to blow five years of struggle and planning on what? Something you can do for yourself in the shower?”
Mordred rolled his eyes, “You have no idea what it’s like to be perpetually trapped in a fourteen-year-old body. This is the first time in years I’ve been old enough to entertain ideas of physical gratification without inviting scrutiny.”
He leaned closer, pressing Everest’s fingers deeper into his bruised face. “We could have fun. Think on it.” He pushed against Everest’s hand one more time before backing off, sauntering to the shower and beginning to strip. Everest closed the door before Mordred could see him shaking.
A borrowed pair of clothes and a disappointing cup of tea later, Mordred was out the door. He whined about the ill-fitting outfit and lack of coffee. Everest’s prescription made it possible to endure complaints without flipping out or slipping up. As soon as the cab pulled away, Everest was recoding his lock and dialing Ian’s number.
Thank gods he answered. “Hello?” Ian’s cello voice was unmistakable.
“Ian, it’s Everest. Remember our debriefing? I forgot to mention you have a fair amount of leave accrued. It might not be a bad time to take it. I can’t recall how much rolls over, and with Dahl on medical anyway-”
“Thank you, I think he needs me here, though.”
Everest clenched his teeth, peering at the future. Speaking plainly was not a good option. He wasn’t sure why. “Ian, listen to me. Go on leave. You’re going to Vegas for the linking ceremony anyways, aren’t you? Head over early. Relax. I’ve got things covered with Dahl back here.”
A pregnant pause stretched out while Everest took the cordless into Adam’s office and opened the top drawer. He wasn’t going to have time to stop by the pharmacy.
“Are you sure?” Ian sounded much more amenable to the idea than Everest could have hoped for. What was he missing? Everest didn’t really have the time to figure it out.
“Yes, you haven’t truly taken a day off in a long time. I’ll put the paperwork in for you with Asimov when I go in today. Pack a bag, head out. I’ll let you know if you’re needed for anything.” Everest’s fingers closed around a white bottle of pills.
“Alright, I will. Thanks for the call.”
Everest said goodbye, checking one more item off the mental list while adding a few: Mordred had a black eye, and Olive had gone missing the night before. He’d have to cover for it. Mordred often couldn’t be bothered with the piddling day-to-day continuity which humans were so attached to. He was off on his next grand plan and blissfully unaware of incriminating details. The whole situation would be a lot easier if getting Dahl out alive wasn’t his primary concern. Emotion threatened to rear its inconvenient head again and Everest clamped down, suffocating it.
The camera crews and non-magical investigation team were already gone when Everest arrived. The room looked like a shaken snow globe. Broken glass and pillow feathers glittered and powdered every surface. A shattered mirror reflected a splintered wooden dresser, clothing oozing through the gaping holes like guts spilling onto thick purple carpet. The drywall was holes held together by spiderwebs of plaster. Not much blood, though, not nearly enough to account for a mortal wound, so Everest was guessing the fight must have been fantastic, but non-lethal. He caressed objects absently, leaving his second eye open, still fighting oppressive nerves from this morning. Today wasn’t going to cut him any breaks.
Unsurprisingly, Everest was heading the investigation. Asimov was shouldering the majority of teams in the field right now, and Everest was the clear choice for this kind of work anyway. Normally Sana Baba would try to assign an agent who hadn’t slept with the subject in question, but for Olive, the people who fit that category were pretty limited. Sending London and Palahniuk out before things were official and pretending he already knew he was heading the investigation made it appear he was anticipating needs instead of breaking rules.
Everest trailed his fingers over the silk sheets, avoiding glass shards, and shuddered head to toe. The bed was a grave. He blinked back involuntary tears and took an
amber-colored plastic bottle out of his pocket. Transferring some of Adam’s stash to a prescription bottle looked much more legitimate. He shook out a tan tablet and swallowed it, momentarily gagging on a tinny aftertaste.
“What do you have?” The senior officer on-site, Commander Carpeaux, was a fifty-year-old piece of gristle: shrunken, hard skin over bulging, hard muscle. A shadow of silver stubble hung around the sides and back of his head, and his face was set in lines of grim finality. Seeing Carpeaux was a relief. Sensible to a fault, he was the Ockham’s razor of the next tier of Sana Baba’s hierarchy: unlinked upper command. The poster boy for the kind of no-nonsense demeanor required to work effectively with magic on a daily basis.
“The struggle was emotional, personal rather than professional.” Everest caught the dismissive grunt and tried to do better, “I’d wager an old lover. I don’t think she pulled her sword: there isn’t enough blood. She didn’t want to hurt him or her. The attacks were passionate and uncoordinated. There’s no real intent here, just a lot of anger.” The trick was to give enough information to paint the picture without making it look like he was outlining what he hoped Carpeaux would absently fill in.
“Your car’s in the garage.”
“Yes.”
“You want to elaborate?”
“Olive and I are sexual partners. It’s on file.”
“You were here last night?”
“I took a cab home. My meds make it hard to drive, and she doesn’t like overnight guests.”
“Did you know she is also in a relationship with August Dahl?”
“Yes, he told me yesterday. We had a bit of a falling out over it, but I imagine we aren’t the only two, either. Pity we let it get between us. I owe him an apology for a black eye.”
“Have you checked him out?” Carpeaux was peering out the breezy hole a window used to fill, his hands clasped behind his back.
