“I’d heard.” Anika looked away, and for the first time Petr saw compassion and regret on her face. “But I don’t care about any of that. I have a mission, Petr. And as is obvious, I don’t intend to allow anyone to stop me.”
“I understand. I truly do. But you can’t kill innocent people, Anika. Even System officers. You can’t.”
“I will kill Tanja!”
Petr closed his eye and nodded. “If what this voice has told you is true, that she is kin to Marlene and has made some vow to kill you and Gretel and Hansel, then she is not innocent.”
Anika stayed silent.
“I know you think Hansel and Gretel’s lives are more valuable than those of these officers, and whoever else’s life you’ve taken since your resurrection, but they’re not. An innocent life is just that, and it must be protected.”
“Hansel and Gretel are more valuable.” Anika’s anger had returned, but Petr stayed steely.
“They’re not, Anika.”
“What?” Anika’s voice sizzled with contempt for Petr’s statement.
“I love Gretel. She doesn’t love me, but I love her. More than I love anything on this planet. And not like a sister or a friend, like...love. But I won’t kill innocent men for her. I won’t, Anika.”
“You aren’t me, Petr. You’ll feel differently when you have children.”
Petr shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s not how I feel now. I won’t help you if you won’t promise me.”
“I sometimes crave them, Petr.”
“I know.” Petr did know. Anika had used her children as the excuse, but her desire to kill was driven as much by her newborn instinct as motherly protectionism.
“It’s getting better, but it still...hurts. I made myself the promise that it would only be System officers from now on, but once we’re out of the New Country that won’t be an option.” Her eyes were pleading with Petr now. “What do I do?”
A groan came from Petr’s bedroom.
Anika nodded toward Zanger, whose ashen color had turned to purple. He was dying. “What do we do with him? With all of them?”
“We’ll call for help from the truck. I at least want to give him a chance. The rest of the scene we’ll leave as is. We should go. I’ll gather as many supplies as I can and then we’re leaving. Leaving for a while.”
“To the docks?”
“To the docks. And then first thing tomorrow, we’ll leave for the Eastern Lands.”
Chapter 18
TANJA WAITED ON THE fringes of the markets, watching the people come and go from Station 12A, the lot of them laughing and shaking hands with each other, as well as with the tall, substantial man standing behind the long table and mountains of wares. It was late afternoon, and virtually every other station had been closed down for at least an hour; but 12A bustled in the center of the district, the bright green and saffron colors of its flags enticing shoppers from every direction.
Based on his age and mannerisms, the man helming the station was almost certainly Garal, and he appeared from Tanja’s distance to be as charming and amicable as Prisha had described her father to be, a quality that had apparently been passed down in the bloodstream.
The whole scene riveted Tanja, and though she was eager to approach the station, she restrained herself, and instead stood watching and wishing the interactions would go on forever, so impressed was she with the efficiency and ease of the store’s trading.
Another full hour passed before the crowds finally began to thin, and, after an additional thirty minutes, as the young man was finishing his collection of the gorgeous, delicate stoneware and had moved on to the mounds of golden necklaces and bracelets, beginning his meticulous placement of them into their special trunks, Tanja approached.
“I am sorry, my dear,” the man said without looking up, a smile beaming across his face, “but we have—finally—closed for the evening. Rest assured we will open again tomorrow, and I will look forward to seeing your kind face the very first thing in the morning.”
“I was told you work only at the end of the day,” Tanja replied.
The man smiled again, this time quizzically. “Yes, well, someone who is very close to me will see you then.” And then he added, “Who told you this?”
Tanja smiled and shook her head, dismissing the question. “What are you doing tonight, Garal?”
Garal looked up at Tanja now, his smile narrowing along with his eyes, and for the first time, Tanja saw a glimpse of the young, troublesome side to which his sister had alluded. “Why?” he asked, skipping another inquiry about how this old woman knew of him and his personal information.
“I was told you could get something for me. Something that is...well...shall we say, rather difficult to acquire otherwise. Thus, if you were to be able to spare a few moments once you’re all settled here, perhaps you could facilitate another transaction, one certain to be beneficial to us both.”
Garal turned away from Tanja and resumed the nightly, and obviously tedious, job of clearing the station. “Well, madam, as I said, we will open again tomorrow. Deals can be made then.”
“The deal must be with you, and you will not be here then.”
“What do you want?” Garal hissed.
“Bungaru venom,” Tanja answered calmly, not at all put off by Garal’s aggression.
Garal held his look of disdain for a beat, and then smiled the friendly smile from a moment ago. The smile continued to broaden before transforming into a bout of hysterical laughter.
Tanja allowed the humor to run its course, noting the meanness with which it was laced, all the while maintaining a steady smile upon her own face.
“Bungaru venom? Is that it? And what would an elderly woman—not to offend, of course—need from bungaru venom. It takes but one drop in an open wound and you are no longer.”
“Those are the words of someone capable of its acquisition.”
Garal pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.
“I’ll need it tonight.”
Garal laughed again. “Tonight? Oh, yes, of course. Perhaps I have some bungaru venom hidden in the bottom of my pockets. Perhaps stuffed in my ass.” The smile disappeared again. “Please leave, madam. I won’t ask you again.”
“Can you get it?”
“You can’t afford it,” the man snapped.
“Can’t I?”
Garal stared at Tanja intensely now, seeming to measure her in full for the first time. “Who are you? I’ve seen you in the markets before. Always alone. Shuffling mysteriously about.”
Tanja moved in closely so that the lashes of her eyes were touching the tip of Garal’s chin. She reached around to the back of his head and pressed her palm flat against his occipital bone and then pulled his face down to hers, his resistance no match for her strength. She moved her lips past his cheek to his ear.
The words spilled from her mouth automatically, as if they had been scripted and planted in her memory without her knowledge. They were words of magic, there was no other way to describe them, and with each whispered sentence, Tanja knew that if Garal was indeed the man his sister claimed he was—that is, questionably moral, even if during some prior life—he would have no choice but to obey her. Even the noblest of men fell quickly under its spell; men of lower character were virtually helpless.
Garal pulled away from Tanja slowly, his face a canvas of fear and dread and awe. “Prisha,” he said.
“She will be fine,” she lied. “In fact, healthier and stronger than before. She was reluctant at first to be a donor, that is true, but now she embraces the process with alacrity. But listen to me, Garal, you musn’t tell of our arrangement to anyone. Not until after.”
“My sisters are worried. My parents. All of us.”
“I can imagine, but not a word, Garal, or none of it will happen. There will be no potion without the preservation of this secret. Your chance at it will be lost.”
“Immortality.” Garal’s voice was distant, and he still wore a look of astonishm
ent, the residue from Tanja’s earlier incantation still washing over him.
Tanja assented with a dip of her head.
“How is it true? I’ve heard the stories from the Old World and the New Country, just as many have, but how can it be true? How can it work?”
“It is a very difficult mixture to make, Garal, both in terms of ingredients and procedure, but it is true. It does work. My body is a testament.”
“How old are you?”
Instinctively, Tanja looked to the sides and behind her, suspicious of any lingering ears. Her age was a thing about which she was both proud and uncomfortable, and though she didn’t remember with precision how many years she had lived, her memory through the centuries had remained apt.
“Let us just say that I remember a time when the Eastern Lands had never been touched by anyone from the Old World, and the New Country wasn’t even a conception.”
Tanja could see Garal was no historian, and thus couldn’t quite calculate her age based on these clues, but his expression suggested he understood generally the magnitude of what she was saying.
“Where shall we meet then, Garal? I must be going now, before the night falls.”
“Meet?”
“To exchange the venom? You haven’t forgotten my purpose already?”
“No, of course. When will I get ...?”
Tanja smiled. “A taste? Three days at the most. Three days from when I get the venom. I’ll need to finish the blending. And test it, of course. I wouldn’t want to poison you after you will have turned such a noble deed. And then it will be your turn.”
Garal lifted his chin and puffed his chest, and was now staring down his nose at Tanja. “How can I trust you? Trust that you will uphold your end of this arrangement?”
It was a fair question, and one Tanja had been expecting. “Because you already know about Prisha. So if I default on my promise now, that means I will have defaulted her as well, and once she tells the lawmen the details of her ordeal—which she will no doubt falsely describe as imprisonment and torture—the authorities will be soon at my doorstep to arrest me.”
“Unless you just kill her after.”
Tanja frowned and bowed her head, a signal that Garal’s words had stung her to the very marrow of her bones. She looked up again, her eyes as beady as a bat’s. “And if I did that,” she explained slowly, “would not my default with you still loom? Would you not go to the authorities with a tale not only of your sister’s abduction and imprisonment, but of her murder as well? They’re looking for her now; if you were to have your story land upon their records, a warrant to search my home would follow. And believe me, Garal, they would find evidence of Prisha.”
Garal’s face softened and the challenge in his eyes faded.
“I have no reason to renege.”
Garal gave a nervous swallow. “I can’t get it until tomorrow morning.”
This news was a blow to Tanja’s plan, but it wasn’t an unreasonable timetable. It would still be another week or so before her regular vendor would have the venom, and even that seemed unlikely. The fact that this new dealer had emerged at all was a win, and so a one-day waiting period would suffice.
“I can bring it to you. To your home.”
Tanja smiled. “I don’t think so. That would look entirely too suspicious to the policemen in the neighborhood.”
“Well it can’t be here either. I don’t work tomorrow, and my presence here would be questioned.”
Tanja thought a moment and then said, “By the temple at the village entrance. I’ll be there at dawn. I will wait until you arrive, whenever that is. But you will arrive.” This last sentence was said with the command of a colonel.
Garal nodded. “I’ll be there. Perhaps not at dawn, but when I can.”
Tanja turned and walked from Station 12A without another word. She took her steps slowly, lightly, listening for Garal’s footsteps behind her. She had revealed a lot, precious information about her source and the potion, about the truth of its magic and life-everlasting. These were secrets she’d told to only a handful of other humans during her long life, for it was this type of information that turned men into monsters.
But Garal didn’t follow, and, for once, Tanja made her way through the streets to her home without urgency, taking in the sights of the vacant marketplace and the distant mountain ranges for what was likely the last time.
But the leisurely stroll proved to be a mistake.
Tanja finally reached her home and methodically unlocked each of the three locks that ran vertically down the front of her door, and then entered the foyer without concern. She closed the door and walked to her closet to begin her travel preparations, and just before she touched the knob of the wardrobe, a clicking noise stopped her in mid-reach.
She stood motionless, waiting for a follow up sound, which she now determined had come from the laboratory.
It wasn’t unusual for Tanja to walk in on the sounds of screams and groans, indicators of agony and struggle that were inaudible from the outside, but muffled and detectable once inside the home. But this time she had placed the Branks on the source, an extra precaution in case the investigators had somehow obtained a warrant. The bridle would have ensured silence not only from outside the walls of the home, but outside of laboratory’s walls as well. An apt detective may discover the moving wall anyway, but there wouldn’t be audible clues to guide him there.
Tanja moved stealthily until she was standing in front of the moving wall, and then placed her foot at the base and pushed gently, guiding the rail to its track. She pressed the wall now with both hands and cracked it open until she could see the edge of the gurney. She should have been able to see the source’s feet, but they were gone.
The source had escaped.
Chapter 19
THE NON-DESCRIPT INTERMODAL freight container formed the bottom layer of a six-container stack that rose toward the sky in the right corner of the cargo ship’s stern. It had the same burnt red color that matched the hundreds of other containers that were stacked in various heights all along the ship’s deck.
But the inside of this particular container had a small 8x10-foot section which had been isolated from the rest of the container, cordoned off by a makeshift metal door and customized for, by Petr’s judgment, a family of five or six. It was a relatively plentiful amount of elbow room for Petr and Anika, since they were the only occupants of the space.
The carved out area was luxurious compared to what Petr had expected. A small opening had been cut into the metal wall, and an open window was formed which looked out onto the ocean, allowing in both light and fresh air to the stark steel compartment. And though the container was essentially a metal prison until they reached their destination, bedding and seating were abundant. There was even a lidded bucket for toilet purposes, and with the window, the waste could easily be disposed off. Overall, Petr was pleased with the accommodations, despite the fact they had cost him his entire stipend for the school year, as well as a fake gold watch, Petr’s only piece of jewelry.
His knowledge of the “stowaway tents,” which they were apparently referred to by those in the know, had come from his father, who had patrolled the shipyards and docks for years. He once told Petr that some of the merchant sailors—not all, but some—subsidized their salaries by renting out these specialized container spaces to seagoing travelers, most of whom either had few means to travel properly or were fleeing some pending legal trouble.
Obviously, Petr and Anika fit the former description, but in truth, it mattered little; the old men who attended to the transaction showed no concern with motive, and they spoke barely a word of expression or emotion throughout the deal. Once the payment was made, Petr and Anika were waved from the harbor docks onto the large cargo ship, and within the hour they were bound for the Eastern Lands. It was all very illegal, but quite effortless.
Once they had arrived at the harbor from the university, Petr had spent the good part of an hour scouting th
e docks for the proper ship. And he knew it the moment he saw it, judging its worthiness based on the large foreign characters printed on the side of the ship, as well as the racial makeup and language spoken by the men tending to it. With these clues, he had made the assumption that their particular ship was indeed headed east. He had confirmed the assumption, of course, before handing over his life savings to a band of strangers, but once he was certain of its itinerary, he wasted no time negotiating. He knew they couldn’t waste time; The System certainly would be sending officers to the waters in search of a murderer.
But if officers had been sent, Petr and Anika never knew it. They had pushed off for the Eastern Lands unmolested, and once the ship was on the ocean and far from the sights of the New Country shores, Petr and Anika were alone to pass the time during their four-day trek.
Anika lay on her back on a floor mattress in the corner of the room; her eyes were closed, but the weariness on her face was evident. Two full beds, frames and all, had been arranged in an L-shape and buttressed along one corner of the container space, but Anika had chosen the lone mattress on the floor for her sleeping quarters.
“How are you feeling?” Petr asked solemnly. He was seated on a small single-seat bench that was made of wood and surprisingly comfortable. His question was, in part, a test to see if Anika was asleep. He hoped she was.
“I’m okay,” she replied immediately, almost surprised by the answer. She opened her one eye wide and stared at the ceiling. “I feel relief mostly. I didn’t think we would make it out of there. You’ve saved me. And maybe Gretel and Hansel.”
“You got us out, Anika. For better or worse.”
Anika closed her eye and then opened it again, the glisten of tears now evident, the memory of her kills once again resurrected.
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