Her knees unbuckle, and she straightens and looks around the office again. It’s just a couch, an old and ugly one at that. The camcorder is incriminating, a token of vengeance, really. Hers, not his. She tucks a violet strand behind her ear that had fallen astray.
Her eyes pass right over Sloane. Ben had forgotten she was there, but she can’t focus on her. She’s a vulnerability because of what she’s just seen, and Ben doesn’t have room for those right now.
“Sloane?” Ben’s voice cracks a little from the strain.
“Yeah?”
“Find me some goddamn matches.”
They leave the money in the Styrofoam cup of a man who laid his cardboard bed under a nearby awning. They leave the camcorder and its insidious tapes on the steps of the local police station, with a message scrawled on the side in permanent marker: “Tell MacCoy Devlin his daughter hates pink.”
Erim returns to spend the finale with them. The building catches quicker than Ben expected, and the three of them stand back to witness the flames engulf it like paper. The picture of the little girl is left to perish in the tinderbox. Ben imagines the clear finish bending back from the heat, peeling away, the horrendous pink of that suit blackening to ash.
He—Mac has no more pieces of her. That’s the last one. Flames reach up through the windows of Mac’s Artillery, licking at the bright dawn. And Ben, small in stature and large in fortitude, raises her fist, middle finger extended defiantly to the store as it collapses into embers.
TRIGINTA
Sofia taps her long red nails on the coffee table, twirling a curly strand of golden hair in the other hand. Elena leans against the wall next to Ches’s door, her short raven locks pulled back in a tight bun, out of the way.
“Is it… behind the bookshelf?” Sofia asks, eyeballing the dimensions of the old piece. It’s small and haggard, probably second-hand, but the dimensions aren’t improbable. Elena sighs.
“I told you, I don’t have some secret cache of weapons in the house. The boys could find it.” Elena flips her dagger around restlessly. The leather-woven handle is worn smooth from her hands, a stark difference to the blade of brilliant white polished bone. It takes Sofia a few passing glances to realize that the blade’s edge is interrupted with small, jagged squares. Teeth.
“Any of those yours?” Sofia asks.
Elena pauses to determine what she’s referring to. “Several, I’m sure.” She glances down, grazing a thumb along the square edges. “All Sighted children contribute their baby teeth to the weapons. Innocui are weakened by things that embody true childhood.”
“That explains their sugar allergy.” Sofia eyes the white line of sugar on the floor, protecting Ches’s door.
“Right,” Elena says. “And since baby teeth are exclusive to childhood, they’re needed on a blade to kill Innocui.” She cracks open Ches’s door again, watching him sleep. There’s no fear of waking him, thanks to the sleeping pills she crushed into his apple juice.
At first, Sofia didn’t understand why Ches would be here for the meeting. She and Elena discussed the possibility of forcing the Innocuous to meet them in a public place. Elena explained that they kill in seclusion and wouldn’t dare try anything around witnesses. But that location also would’ve handicapped Elena; she wouldn’t have been able to kill it if it came to that. So, they’re confined to the apartment, paradoxical in its status as the safest and most dangerous place for Ches. Sofia doesn’t doubt that Elena can protect him better than anyone, but with only a plywood door between Ches and his doom, it’s a terrifying risk. “Repeat the plan again.” Elena orders.
“If you’re really that concerned about things going sideways, you should tell me where your secret weapon alcove is,” Sofia says.
Elena rests her head against the wall. “This isn’t a Bond movie.”
“What if there’s more than one, and I need a weapon to protect Ches?”
Elena shakes her head wearily. “I’ve told you, they’re too territorial about their cases to work together. And the Innocuous is my concern. Your only job is to—”
“I know, I’ve got it.” Sofia groans. “If something goes wrong, I take Ches down the fire escape—”
“Stick to the sugar path I laid. That will keep you safe.”
Sofia nods. “I put him in the car and drive until you call.”
“You get as far away as you can. They travel by foot, so they’re relatively slow. As long as you keep moving until I call, everything will be fine.”
“Tiny legs.” Sofia grins, moving two fingers in the air like feet. “You’re sure Adrian won’t interrupt?”
“I signed him up to be a camp counselor for a couple weeks,” Elena says, sheathing and unsheathing her knife. “He needed to get out of the house, anyway.”
In a few minutes, a quick knock comes at the door. Elena’s eyes dart over to Sofia. “Ready?”
“Psyched.” Sofia spreads her arms along the back of the sofa. Elena stands stiffly and goes to check through the peephole. She takes a deep breath and forces her hand to turn the knob.
Sofia can’t help but lean forward, expectant to see the creature. She’s immediately underwhelmed by the adorable little girl who looks like she stepped right out of a Disney movie. Elena had described them this way, but Sofia didn’t completely believe her until now.
The girl’s blue dress is two shades darker than her eyes and edged with Victorian lace. Her blonde locks are braided back neatly behind her blushing porcelain cheeks. Her look is captivating, almost hypnotic. For Sofia, the perfection becomes eerie quickly.
The girl steps inside, smiling sweetly—no, slyly at Elena. “Did you ever think this day would come, Venatrix?” Her eyes sweep the room under unimpressed, flat brows. She passes over Sofia like she’s as irrelevant as furniture. “If only the others could see you now, inviting me into your home.” She sighs whimsically.
“You’d be wise not to antagonize me,” Elena advises. She rests her hand on the hilt of her knife to punctuate that. The child raises her chin haughtily, refusing to be put in her place.
Sofia stands, rejecting the girl’s snub. “Don’t think we’ve met around the office water cooler. I’m—”
“Medium division.” She sizes Sofia up indifferently. “I’m Mary Rebekah, Supervising Innocuous of this Continent. You know, I’ve never really understood the purpose of your department.”
Sofia laughs. “Big talk from such a tiny janitor.” She pats her head.
Mary Rebekah smacks her hand away. “Our duty is necessary and noble. You’re nothing more than a switchboard operator.”
“Aw no, does that mean I don’t get a cool nickname?” Sofia pouts her lips.
“Venatrix is not a term of endearment.” Mary Rebekah glares at Elena. “She has killed many of my people.”
“Not really people,” Elena mutters. “But you can be number five today if you don’t behave.” The rigidity in her posture makes it clear how much she’s restraining herself.
Mary Rebekah isn’t deterred. “The workload for each Innocuous has nearly tripled. If you could only see the amount of paperwork I have to do now, thanks to you!” Mary Rebekah’s lip curls in a way that doesn’t match her perfect face.
“Is that paperwork figurative?” Sofia asks. Neither answer.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Elena says.
“Of course.” Mary Rebekah twinkles. “I can behave like a professional.” She takes a seat on one of the big armchairs across from them. She pats her dress down and crosses her ankles; her feet don’t even reach the ground.
“I’ve taken the liberty of envisioning a proposition that will benefit us both, Venatrix. It’s simple, so I’m sure even you will be able to understand.” Elena twitches with irritation. “I will mark your spawn as a permanent overlook if you—” She’s interrupted by another rap at the door. Elena’s head snaps up, and she throws an accusatory look at Mary Rebekah. The girl shrugs. “Well, I don’t know who it is.” Sofia narrows her eyes
at her. “We work alone!” Mary Rebekah insists, annoyed.
“Check it,” Elena says. Sofia presses her cheek against the door. The image through the peephole is warped, but Sofia sees enough to pause. That’s enough evidence for Elena. Sofia hears a screech and turns around to see a knife flung into Mary Rebekah’s shoulder. She meets the floor silently, her mass not enough to make a sound on the carpet. “It’s a trap,” Elena snarls. Mary Rebekah hisses, her blue eyes wide, frantic.
Sofia blinks, and Elena’s on the other side of the room by her desk. With a flick of her wrist, the wall rack of wrapping papers swings open, revealing a small cubby.
“Oh Elena, we really need to do more trust falls.” Sofia sighs.
Elena tosses her something shiny, which she fumbles and almost drops. It’s a small antique silver pistol with intricate metal carvings on the rounded grip. It cools Sofia’s palm, heavier than it looks. “Point and shoot.” Elena slings a long blade across her back and straps a smaller one to her thigh.
“Thanks, I figured.” Sofia clicks back the hammer.
Dark shadows radiate from Mary Rebekah’s eyes, stretching across her delicate glass skin. Her breath is labored through bared teeth as she reaches to pull the blade from her shoulder. Elena kicks her hand away from the hilt, pinning her free arm to the carpet under her boot. She leans over the child, rests a finger tauntingly on the pommel, so her slightest movement will part flesh. Another knock quivers the door.
“Breeding really has made you stupid.” Mary Rebekah spits at her, limbs writhing like a snake. “If I wanted him dead, I wouldn’t need help. He’d be mulch by now.” That’s a mistake. Elena’s face scrunches with animalistic determination, and she yanks her arm overhead, the sheath on her thigh now empty. Sofia catches Elena’s wrist in the air, the force of it slamming her onto her knees. She grunts as she keeps the tip from puncturing into Mary Rebekah’s chest.
“If you kill this bureaucratic little asshole, there’ll just be another.” Sofia strains against Elena’s superior strength. “That’s not a game of whack-a-mole we want to start.” Elena isn’t swayed. “It won’t keep him safe.” Sofia gasps. At the mention of Ches, Elena’s muscles shift, relaxing in Sofia’s hands.
Suddenly much warier of her situation, Mary Rebekah latches onto Sofia’s lead. She melts the rage in her voice to cool logic. “You’ll try, but you won’t be able to kill all of us. He’ll never have a normal life. One of mine will get to him. You won’t know when or where, but he’ll be dead before you even know he’s in danger.” She glances down at the blade trembling over her ribs. “I’m the only one who can save him.”
Elena’s lip trembles with rage. “Who’s at the door?”
Mary Rebekah tightens her chin, refusing to cooperate. Elena flicks the tip of the knife, making Mary Rebekah screams through sealed lips, her limbs recoiling. “Try again,” Elena suggests.
Mary Rebekah wrings her lips, grinding her nails into the carpet. “The case wasn’t mine, originally. I… acquired it.” Her eyes flicker to the door. “He obviously didn’t get the memo.”
“If this is a trick,” Elena grumbles, “I will kill both of you, and believe me, little girl, I’m sure it’s all paperwork in Hell.”
Mary Rebekah scowls at her. “Let me up.”
She grunts as Elena pulls the dagger out of her shoulder. Mary Rebekah shakes off the pain, seeming more upset about the blood-stained tear on her dress.
Elena nods at Sofia, standing. Sofia cracks open the door, looking down at the little boy. He looks the same age as Mary Rebekah, or younger, with striking hazel eyes and soft black curls that sit close to his head. His purple square-rimmed glasses compliment his cocoa skin tone, and he wears an adorable little bowtie with his button-down.
“Hi!” he exclaims. His voice is less delicate, more playful. “My name is Moses Ishmael, and my family and I just moved in a few doors down.” His eyes start on Sofia but drift as he talks. “A neighbor told me you had a son—” He suddenly sees Mary Rebekah and freezes. His face curves down with confusion. “Mary Rebekah? What are you doing here?”
Sofia rolls her eyes and snags him by the collar. “Are all your names so obnoxious?” She pulls him into the room, slamming and locking the door after him.
“Only because humans are such fools,” Mary Rebekah sneers. “Worshipping storybooks written thousands of years ago about invisible beings who live in the sky.”
“Well, if you’re looking to modernize, Beyoncé is basically God now. You should take her name.” Sofia crosses her arms.
Mary Rebekah ignores her and steps up to Moses Ishmael. “What are you doing here?” He asks again.
“You used the new kid scenario?” Mary Rebekah laughs, circling him like a shark. “How juvenile, Mose. I would have expected better from you.”
“She used that one too.” Sofia chimes in.
Mary Rebekah glares at her. She grabs Moses Ishmael’s arm and pulls him aside. “But this is my case,” he whispers.
“No, I acquired it. Besides, you’re two days late on a priority one.”
“I can’t be late to my own case, Mary Rebekah!” he sputters. “You only have authority because you’re the oldest that the Venatrix hasn’t killed.”
“That can be amended,” Elena offers.
“Mose!” Mary Rebekah hisses. “I am not having this discussion here. You are an embarrassment to yourself and this establishment.” His head droops a little. “Now,” she instructs calmly, “go sit down, and when I’m finished here, I will decide next steps.” She turns back to Sofia and Elena.
“I’m not employed by you,” Moses Ishmael mumbles. “And everyone knows that Rachel Esther has a better track recor—”
Mary Rebekah whirls around and snatches Moses Ishmael’s throat, slamming his body against the wall. She pushes his neck into the wallpaper. “What was that?” she snarls.
“Nothing.” He looks down, his face riddled with contempt.
“They’re even cuter when they’re mad,” Sofia murmurs to Elena.
Mary Rebekah’s eyes flare to life. She drops Moses Ishmael and steps towards Sofia. “I could kill you in seventeen different ways with a spatula.”
“Go ahead and try, you little brat.” Sofia would welcome the sport.
“Enough!” Elena barks. “Name your terms and get out.” Any composure or presentability Mary Rebekah had to accompany her presentation is gone. She heaves with frustration, combing back a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. She straightens and smooths the front of her dress. “I’ll mark your son as a permanent overlook for an equal show of good faith.”
“An overlook?”
“Marking him with my scent is as good as making him invisible to my kind,” Mary Rebekah says.
“No one will go near him, that’s for sure,” Moses Ishmael mutters.
Elena looks skeptical. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“Because it’s never been done.” Mary Rebekah crosses her arms indignantly. “I hope you appreciate the risk I’m taking in making this deal.”
“And in return?” Elena asks.
“You cut your line,” Mary Rebekah says.
“Fine.” Elena puts out her hand. The little girl takes it, and they shake.
Elena leads her into Ches’s room, dusting away the sugar barrier. Sofia tiptoes after them, twice as slow and loud because of her heels. In Ches’s room, Elena pulls out her knife and holds it at Mary Rebekah’s neck. “Make one sudden movement, and your partner gets a promotion.”
Mary Rebekah goes to Ches’s bedside, where he lays in his peaceful, though drug-induced sleep. His face is turned out towards them. Mary Rebekah puts her thumb lightly at the top of his forehead. She drags it down the middle of his face: over the tip of his nose, down his lips, and to the end of his chin. Next, she places her index finger on Ches’s right temple and moves it across his eyes like a mask. Finally, she puts her middle finger on his left cheek and traces a line across his lips to the other cheek. She takes
her hand away and nods to Elena.
They leave Ches asleep in his room, relieved that he’ll never know how close death was for the second time. “How do I know if it worked?” Elena asks.
Mary Rebekah snaps her head towards Moses Ishmael, who sits pouting on the couch. “Mose, what do you smell?”
He inhales deeply. “Only you, Mary Rebekah.”
Elena swipes him off the couch and shoves them both out the door. “That scent wears off every ten years,” Mary Rebekah says. “If anything happens to me, or you don’t hold up your end of the deal, they’ll never stop coming for him.” She grins through thin lips.
Elena leans down. “And if anything happens to him, accident or not, I will wipe your kind off the face of the Earth.” She slams the door in Mary Rebekah’s face. “See you in a decade.”
Sofia’s a little disappointed she didn’t get to use her tooth pistol. “So, it’s done, just like that?”
“For now.” Elena nods, checking on Ches again. “Thank you for your help.”
“So, cutting your line, that means….”
“It means that neither of my boys will become Sighted.” Elena sighs. “Everyone of my bloodline has the ability, but if the skills are not sharpened, honed, they won’t hunt.”
“That sucks,” Sofia says.
Elena shakes her head. “I should’ve started Adrian years ago, but I just couldn’t; he was too sweet. When I got pregnant with Ches, I thought maybe I would teach him, but he’s even softer than his brother. I didn’t want that burden for either of them. I’m at peace with it ending here.”
Sofia thinks of the thousands of years of tradition ended to save one boy. It’s only worth it because it’s their Ches. Fortunately for the world, there are few Innocui left. Unfortunately for the world, Mary Rebekah is one of them.
TRIGINTA UNUS
Sloane returns to the convocation room with Ben and Erim. There are weapons everywhere; Erim resorted to leaning them against walls and stacking them on the floor when he ran out of table space. There are swords, spears, spiked clubs, axes, shields, and bows. There are even some spears and a scythe-like weapon.
Interitum Page 28
