Red Queen

by Christopher Pike

  “Yes.”

  “She was your lover?”

  “For two thousand years.”

  I found it hard to speak. “Tell me your story.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “WHEN WE LAST SPOKE ALONE, I told you of my commitment to Caesar. I won’t belabor this part of my tale except to say that his victory at Alesia gave him the momentum to return to Rome and crown himself emperor. Those were exciting times. Finally, I thought, mankind could be brought under a single umbrella of law and justice and grow in the manner I had always dreamed possible.

  “But it was a fool’s dream. In my enthusiasm to have Caesar unify Europe, I overlooked what was under my nose and allowed Brutus and his gang of thugs to kill a man many called a god.”

  “Was Syn involved with Caesar’s assassination?” I asked.

  “No. Syn had barely awakened to her powers when Caesar was stabbed to death. But even as an infant witch she understood the mob mentality of everyday Rome better than I did. For she was a native of the city, while I was not. Many times she warned me to increase Caesar’s personal security. I should have listened, but perhaps I was too confident in the love the people showered on him wherever he spoke.”

  “You said you first spotted Syn in a crowd,” I said. “Did you recognize her as a potential witch?”

  Kendor flashed a rare smile. “As opposed to a beautiful woman? I suppose the two went hand in hand. From the instant we met, I was hypnotized by her dark eyes. It had been ages since I had fallen in love, but sometimes, staring into those eyes, I felt as if I had met the greatest mystery of my life. Of course, she had a wild streak—most powerful women in those days did, especially when it came to Rome. I wasn’t with her long before I knew she had the ability to become connected.”

  “How could you be certain?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t certain until the day I put her through the death experience. But it was something I sensed to be true and I had lived long enough to trust my intuition.”

  “Did you sense the evil in her?” I asked.

  The question seemed to surprise Kendor. “Syn wasn’t evil, at least not then, although I saw something in her I had never seen before in any woman. I don’t have a word for it. Her beauty was obvious, of course, her energy undeniable. She was the daughter of a senator, rich and spoiled, and was used to traveling with a dozen slaves who would jump at her least command. But when she came to me, and I sent her slaves away, she didn’t mind.”

  “Was she trying to impress you?”

  Kendor smiled. “I think it was more simple than that. We were in love, we wanted to make each other happy. Syn quickly saw that I disliked crowds so she got rid of her help. She didn’t need it. We only needed each other.”

  “How did she become connected?”

  “By that time I had connected a hundred witches and had discovered that freezing a person to death was the least traumatic way. But Cleo is right—half those who lack the healing gene fail to survive. I couldn’t tell whether Syn had it by looking at her. I only knew that she would be a powerful witch if she did survive. The winter after we met, I took her to the Italian Alps and led her into an icy lake, one of the hardest things I ever did in my life. But fortune smiled on us that day, or I should say that night. Because it was during the night, beside a roaring fire, that she suddenly sucked in a breath and was alive again.”

  “So when we go through the death experience we really die?”

  “Yes. But most witches who connect in this fashion usually stop breathing for a short period of time. Ten or fifteen minutes at most. Syn stopped for ten hours. I assumed I had lost her. It was a painful night, then a joyous one.”

  I was thoughtful. “I wasn’t breathing when I woke up in the morgue. Is it possible that I was dead for several hours?”

  “It’s likely. You two have a lot in common.”

  “I hope not,” I said.

  He gave me a curious look before he continued. “Syn was reborn in the depths of winter. But it was that following March, on that infamous day known as the ides of March, that Caesar was killed. After the loss of our leader, Cleo and the Council asked me to leave Rome and return to England, where they were centered. But at the same time I refused to leave the city because Syn didn’t want to go. It was strange—even at such an early age she wanted nothing to do with the Council.”

  “Did they know about her?” I asked.

  “Of course. They knew I had a woman. But only Hatsu came to visit us.”

  “Would he recognize her if he met her today?”

  “I’m sure he would. But Syn went to great pains to avoid the other members of the Council. Even when other witches came to visit, she would make herself scarce.”

  “What excuse did she give?”

  “She didn’t want to be part of an organization where she would have to be beholden to anyone. I tried explaining that we didn’t operate that way but my words fell on deaf ears. I suspected that Syn was jealous of my loyalty to Cleo.”

  “Did she feel threatened by her?” I asked.

  “That’s a reasonable assumption but I’m not sure if it’s accurate. For Syn was the most fearless person I had ever met, even among witches. Naturally, because I couldn’t be with her every second, I taught her everything I knew about the sword, and she turned out to be an extraordinary student. Not because of her genes, which were powerful, but because of her lack of inhibition. She didn’t care how many she killed, if attacked, and she didn’t worry how close she came to death in a battle. You assume I protected her for the first century of her life and that’s true, but later she was to save my life as often as I saved hers.”

  “So she was a killer from the start,” I said.

  “No.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Syn never hurt a soul unless provoked. It was fascinating for me to observe that after she became connected, and inherited an amazing array of powers, she became more gentle in her dealings with people. Besides never keeping another slave, she became more friendly and cheerful. In those days, I imagined the love we shared had brought about the change in her. It was so perfect it seemed to overflow from inside us and spread to others.”

  “Perfect,” I said with a sigh. “That’s the word I always use when I think of Jimmy.”

  “Then you understand.”

  “Yes and no. I can’t listen to you talk about Syn without thinking of the Susan I’ve met.”

  “That’s fair. I’m no different. It’s hard for me to think of those days because of what she is today.”

  “How did she change? Why?” I asked.

  Kendor unsheathed his sword and studied the blade. He was a long time answering. “I wish I knew,” he said.

  “There had to be a reason.”

  He shrugged, sliding a finger down the length of the blade, letting it draw a faint film of blood from his skin. “I can give you reasons. A basket full of them, which a modern psychologist could use to construct a profile of why Syn turned bad. But it would just be a list of events. It wouldn’t tell you how her heart changed.”

  “Tell me anyway. Tell me her history.”

  “Very well. In the fourth century, in 386, Syn and I had our first child, a boy named Robere. He was a wonderful child and he grew into a great man. And we were further blessed when we discovered that he was a witch who possessed that special gene that would allow him to heal others as well as himself. I changed him when he was thirty in much the same manner I had changed his mother. At the same time I taught him how to defend himself, but perhaps I spent too much time on his training. He became a great warrior and in 431, when Attila and his endless hordes of Huns attacked Rome, my son marched out to protect the city.

  “The Huns were fearsome warriors. They were especially skilled at using a bow and arrow while riding a horse, and their talent with a javelin was unequaled. However, Rome was Rome and its soldiers had a long history of winning against impossible odds, especially when one of their leaders knew the s
ecret of gunpowder. They drove back the Huns but Robere never returned from battle. A Hun had pinned him to a tree with a javelin. He died instantly but I think a part of Syn died much more slowly over the ensuing years.”

  “She grieved a long time?”

  “She barely spoke for years. That was difficult for me to take because I was used to her lively personality. Yet, as time went on, she slowly returned to her old self and in the year 658 she gave birth to a daughter, Era. We were living in Sicily at the time and I felt as if I just blinked and Era was a full-grown woman with two children of her own, Anna and Theo, and a wonderful husband, Peter, who worked as a fisherman. I think the time went by so fast because they were happy days. But it was during this time that the Plague of Justinian, the first of the bubonic plagues, struck Europe and Era and her children died.”

  “Were any of them witches?”

  “Era and Theo were not. Anna was and when she got ill I tried to connect her in the usual way. But she lacked the healing gene and the process killed her.”

  “You weren’t able to heal her yourself?”

  Kendor hesitated. “I thought Anna was getting better with the care I was giving her. But Syn insisted she be made completely immune to the plague. She pressured me to connect her.”

  “But being a member of the Council, you knew the risk.”

  “Of course. That’s why I was reluctant to try it. But Syn felt the plague was the greater danger. It was a difficult call. You have to understand, the streets were stacked with bodies. Death was all around us.”

  “What happened to Era’s husband?”

  “When we lost Anna, he drowned himself.”

  “Did you have any more children?”

  “One. Herme. He was born in England in 1472. He was born a witch, with many genes, including the healing gene. Syn connected him when he was twenty-five.”

  “Why didn’t you do it?”

  “She insisted.” He paused. “She worshipped that boy.”

  “Is he alive today?”

  “In 1706 he took leave of us in London and traveled to America. We received regular letters from him up until the time the colonies broke from England. Then we heard from him only sporadically. To be blunt, I blamed Syn for that.”

  “Why?”

  “Living in America, Herme became an American. He lost all respect for the English Crown. Of course Syn and I had lived in England for centuries. It was home, and to Syn, the king was to be obeyed. She was a great believer in order. Even through the mail she continued to fight with Herme. Immediately after the Boston Tea Party, she wrote him a particularly scathing letter.” Kendor paused. “We didn’t hear from him again.”

  “Because he was mad?”

  “Herme was a gentle soul. He wasn’t the vindictive sort. He would have forgiven his mother and eventually written.” Kendor gestured weakly. “We had to assume he was killed in the conflict.”

  “Would he have volunteered to fight? On either side?”

  “Doubtful. Herme was a painter and sculptor. He had no interest in fighting. He refused all my attempts to teach him the sword.”

  “Then why do you assume he died?”

  “He was attached to us. Although he fought with his mother, they were close. I can’t imagine him abandoning Syn for political reasons.” Kendor paused. “The not knowing was hard on her. For years, every time the mail came, she ran to the box.”

  “I can imagine,” I said.

  “No offense, Jessie, but you can’t imagine.”

  I nodded. “That was three hundred years ago. Why didn’t you have more children?”

  “Syn refused to have any more. After Herme vanished, we never had sex again. Not intercourse. Not where there was a chance she could get pregnant.” Kendor shook his head. “For a long time she’d cringe whenever I touched her.”

  “That must have been very difficult for you.”

  “It was unbearable, and yet I could bear it.”

  “Because you loved her.”

  “Yes.”

  “You still love her. That’s why you lied to the Council about her.”

  “Yes.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Four days ago, near the hospital where you were taken. She was walking along the street, staring off into the distance.”

  “Did she see you?”

  “No.”

  “When was the last time you were together?”

  “During World War Two. We were living in Glasgow at the time. The Blitz was on, the Germans’ bombing of Great Britain. It focused on London but hit our city as well.”

  “Why did you stay in Europe? Why not come to America?”

  “Syn refused to leave. She had decided that what Hitler was trying to do was best.”

  I was shocked. “Why?”

  “She thought the Nazis could bring order to the world more quickly than anyone else. That was the excuse she gave. But it made no sense. Hitler was obviously a destabilizing factor. We used to argue about it endlessly. Largely because I wanted to take out Hitler.”

  “You mean, kill him?”

  “Yes. I was fully capable of killing him.”

  “With the Council’s approval?”

  “No. Cleo refused to grant me permission. I was going to do it anyway and Syn knew it. That’s the excuse she gave for leaving me but I knew it was a lie.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “To Germany. To work with the Nazis.”

  I put a hand to my mouth. “But she must have had another reason. Like you said, supporting Hitler made no sense.”

  Kendor was silent a long time. While I waited for him to continue, I heard the low moan I had first heard from the sewer cap. It came out of the cavern we sat beside, from the darkness that seemed to have no boundary. Listening to it, I couldn’t help but think of the German words I had seen written on the sewer wall.

  Schmerz wird zum Vergnügen wenn die Macht Schmerzen schafft.

  “You hear it, don’t you?” Kendor asked finally.

  “What is it?”

  “It could be mutants that the Lapras have discarded as useless to their program. Or something else.”

  “What?”

  “An echo from the past.” Kendor paused. “You asked why Syn went to work for the Nazis. I think it was because they gave her something no one else could.”

  “What?”

  “A constant source of pain.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Kendor shook his head. “When Syn left Glasgow, I almost went insane trying to find her. I used all the contacts I had on both sides of the English Channel. I almost broke the vow I had made to Syn and went to the Council for help. Without their aid, it took three years before I discovered she was in Germany, and another year to learn she had gone to work at Auschwitz, in Poland.”

  I felt sick. “The concentration camp?”

  “The most horrifying camp ever built. Millions of Jews lost their lives there. Plus countless Poles, Gypsies, and Russian soldiers. In all of time, in all of history, that camp caused more concentrated pain than anything the world has ever known.”

  “Do you know what she did at the camp?”

  “She was high up in the command structure. I know that she experimented on Jews with strong doses of radiation. To the best of my knowledge, these were the first tests performed to artificially produce witch genes in human beings.”

  “Hold on. That’s a Lapra program. Did Syn join the Lapras at this time?”

  “I assume. But I must stress that she’d never expressed an interest in them before. If anything, up until the time she left me, they seemed to amuse her.”

  “None of this makes sense. How could a person change so fast?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t fast. Maybe I was just blind. After we lost Herme, she was a shell of her former self. Back then I believed in the healing power of time but I don’t anymore.”

  “But you must have warned the Council that she’d gone over to the
Lapras. No, wait, you didn’t—I know you didn’t. I heard the way they spoke about her on the phone. They still have no idea who Susan is.”

  Kendor didn’t respond. He just sat there.

  “How come you didn’t tell them?” I asked.

  He spoke with sudden feeling. “How could I? Syn was my life,” he said.

  “Are you saying you were ashamed?”

  “It was more than that. I couldn’t bear to have them see her in that light.”

  “But your failure to tell them weakens their plans.”

  Kendor gripped the sword, drawing more blood into his palm. “I know,” he said.

  I could see I was hurting him. I could press the point no further. “Why did you say she wanted a constant form of pain?”

  “I believe she needed it for another type of experiment.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s just speculation.”

  “Kendor. You’re too old to speculate.”

  “When Germany fell to the Allies, I discovered that Syn had left Auschwitz for Japan. At that time another source of agony was being created, this one by the Americans. It was the brainchild of General Curtis LeMay. Using the air force’s most advanced bombers, he had begun to drop massive amounts of incendiary devices on Tokyo and other major Japanese cities. This type of bombing caused more deaths and injuries than anything seen in Europe, including Dresden. Few Americans realize that LeMay’s aerial campaign killed more people than the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.”

  “Wait!” I cried, sitting up. “Syn went out of her way to talk about those cities. She went on and on about how wise Truman was to drop the nuclear bombs.”

  “Perhaps because they gave her access to something she’d never had before.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re losing me,” I said.

  “Follow her pattern. Syn went to Auschwitz because the greatest horrors on earth were taking place there. When the war in Europe ended, she went to Japan to bask in their torture. Wherever there was the most pain, there Syn was. Now, even though I say the firebombing killed more people than the atomic bombs, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were still unique events in history. In milliseconds, eighty thousand people died in Hiroshima, while another fifty thousand died in Nagasaki. Many more died later from radiation poisoning. But my point is the explosions gave Syn two exquisite instants of agony that had no precedence. And they were related to the release of massive amounts of radiation. Think about that for a moment. Radiation is the basis of all mutations on earth, and it’s mutation that has given rise to the witch genes in human beings. It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about the Tar or the Lapras.”