Memory Hunter

by Frank Morin

  “Keep going,” Tomas grunted through gritted teeth. “Not far.”

  She nearly dropped him before she managed to open the gate, and he bit back a cry of pain when he lurched and nearly fell. He smelled like sweat and blood and his blood coated her clothing and hands. It was hot and sticky, and if she wasn’t so worried, she would’ve shrieked from the feel of it.

  “There,” he said between breaths. “Silver SUV. Carport.”

  She hadn’t known they had access to a car. The parking spot wasn’t adjacent to the house, so she hadn’t paid it any attention.

  Thankfully it was parked close behind the rear gate and no one was around. The local residents were either all out gawking at the fire, or at least smart enough to avoid the area of so many gunshots.

  She found the key in Tomas’ pocket and helped him into the back seat. She was terrified they’d knock the knife against the seat and hurt him even more, but he managed to lie down with the handle sticking up. The vehicle’s darkened windows would conceal him from anyone outside.

  He looked more comfortable. She couldn’t have held him up much longer, but she wasn’t sure what to do next. Dying in the car wasn’t much of an improvement over dying out in the yard.

  Tomas coughed, then winced, a long groan slipping through his tight-pressed lips.

  “We have to get this bloody knife out,” he said, his voice slipping into a British accent.

  “You said you’d bleed out if we do.”

  “Not if you help,” he panted.

  She followed his gestures and ripped away the remnant of his shirt. She nearly puked at the heavy scent of blood that filled the vehicle. Blood leaked out of the wound. The torn skin was puckered around the blade and Sarah choked back a cry of despair to see the steel standing from his side. He really was going to die. Fresh tears streamed down her face and her mind went blank. She didn’t know what to do, but tried to control herself. She had to be strong for him.

  Tomas took from his pocket a small folding knife and handed it to her.

  “What do you want me to do with this?” He couldn’t be hinting at what she feared he might be. She wouldn’t do it. She’d take him to the hospital first and take their chances there.

  He surprised her by tracing a pattern onto the skin of his side with his own blood. His hands shook but he managed a remarkably precise image. It looked a lot like the runes they had studied from the machine. The specifics of the symbol were different, but it had to be some kind of rune.

  Tomas gestured weakly at the knife and then fell back, exhausted. “Mark pattern.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Cut that into my skin around the wound. Knife in the middle.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Enhancement,” he breathed. His voice was fading. “Might save me.”

  “Tomas, how can this help?”

  He didn’t respond.

  They were out of time.

  Sarah gritted her teeth and opened the knife. Using part of his ripped shirt, she wiped the blood from the wound and laid the blade onto his skin.

  Horrified by what she was doing, she made the first cut.

  The little knife was as sharp as a scalpel, and it cut deeper than she intended. He didn’t even twitch.

  She could no longer hear his breathing. She wanted to shriek that Mai Luan promised he’d live an hour. It hadn’t been that long. She couldn’t lose him yet.

  Sarah bit her lip with concentration, and tried again. The blade sliced through his skin far too easily. It sickened her to see fresh blood welling up from the cuts, merging with blood leaking from the knife wound. Between the two of them, she and Mai Luan were killing him.

  She wiped the blood away, but had to cut faster.

  Sarah leaned over him and tried to hurry, but he winced from one mark and she snatched the blade away. Knowing she was hurting him even more nearly drove her crazy.

  “I can’t do this,” she shrieked.

  Tomas slowly twisted his bloody right hand into a thumbs up. “You must.”

  Then his hand went limp. Hopefully he was passed out again and wouldn’t feel any more. Sarah decided to finish the rune and then rush him to the hospital. What else could she do?

  She focused again on tracing the intricate pattern into his skin around the blade. She hated cutting him, but as she worked she felt drawn to the rune despite her revulsion. Its complex beauty called to her and as she worked on it, she found that somehow it made sense. Well, almost all of it did. A couple of the lines he made with his shaky fingers were sloppy.

  He had made a mistake.

  How she knew that, she couldn’t imagine, but she was sure of it. She should copy it exactly the way he indicated, but somehow deep down inside she knew that was wrong, that it would break the rune.

  So she changed it.

  If she was mistaken, she was killing him.

  She made the final mark with a confident stroke even though she wanted to scream with fear even while she desperately prayed the rune would work. As soon as the blade connected the last two lines, the pattern began to glow with a soft blue light. She sagged against him, suddenly exhausted. The light intensified for several seconds until it filled the interior of the vehicle. The bloody marks faded away, leaving the rune clear and bright against his pale skin.

  Tomas opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down at the rune. “You did it.”

  “Don’t look so surprised.” The attempt at levity failed.

  “Pull the knife out,” he ordered.

  “No, I can’t. You said you’d bleed out.”

  “Not any more. The rune helps with healing, but not until the knife’s gone.”

  Sarah grasped the handle. It was warm from his body heat, sheathed securely in his side. “Please, don’t make me do this.”

  “Do it, Sarah,” Tomas whispered, gripping her other hand. “Or I’ll die.”

  With a cry of revulsion, Sarah yanked the blade out in a single, convulsive heave.

  Tomas gasped, his face white, and his body arced off the seat with a spasm of new pain.

  Sarah tossed the knife to the floor of the vehicle and pressed his shirt against the open wound. Blood was pouring out now that the blade wasn’t plugging the wound.

  “I thought you said this would help,” she cried.

  “Give it a minute.” His voice was soft, weak. His eyes closed and his hand slipped off the seat.

  The brightly glowing rune faded to black.

  “No no no,” Sarah muttered, pressing the improvised bandage harder against the wound. With her other hand, she prodded the rune. It had faded to a black mark that looked a lot like a tattoo. That was a good sign, but why would the glow fade? Had she broken it? Should it have kept glowing? She peeked under the bandage and the bleeding had slowed. A scab covered the wound.

  That was fast. Maybe the rune really was working.

  She couldn’t remain there any longer. The sirens were very loud. If the police cordoned off the block, she and Tomas might get trapped and discovered. Someone would inform the authorities of the gunshots, and she needed to leave before they began a search.

  Sarah shook Tomas gently. “Tomas, where should we go?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Useless.”

  She packed additional padding across his side with a spare shirt she found in the back and secured the whole sloppy bandage with her belt. Then she wiped her bloody hands on his shirt, climbed into the driver seat, and pulled onto the street.

  At first she just wanted to get away from pursuit and potential arrest. Tomas had blown up the house and they’d shot several men. She doubted the heka had died, but were any of them still lying in the alley? Either way, she had fired a whole lot of bullets at them. How long would they put her in jail for that? Would they believe it was self-defense?

  Hiding in a jail wouldn’t slow Mai Luan for long, Sarah could imagine her slaughtering a precinct full of police and breaking through steel bars to wreak h
er promised vengeance. Mai Luan would kill Sarah long before she got a chance to testify.

  If she tried to explain, tried to tell the truth, they would lock her in a loony bin for life. No one would believe the secret existence of the facetakers and their ancient powers or Mai Luan and her enhanced fighters. Sarah barely believed it herself. She didn’t doubt that if she tried to reveal the secrets to the authorities, council-assigned enforcer hit squads would race Mail Luan to silence her.

  That left her feeling desperately alone. She wasn’t sure how to reach Gregorios or Eirene, didn’t know where else to turn.

  After fifteen minutes of driving, her hands began to shake so badly she barely managed to pull off to the side of the road. She sat there for several minutes, just trying to breathe as her heart raced and her body reacted to the stress of the recent battle.

  Once she managed to calm herself a little, she checked on Tomas. He was still alive and actually seemed to be sleeping better. The scab looked stronger, the bleeding stopped. Hopefully that meant the rune was working. She rummaged in the back of the vehicle and found a blanket to cover him.

  She also found a light jacket that was only two sizes too big for her. She slipped it on to conceal the blood smears on her shirt. When she returned to the driver’s seat, she noticed for the first time the Colosseum in the distance. Was it only that morning that they had visited it?

  She glanced back at Tomas. “You’re a rotten date, you know that?”

  He surprised her by opening his eyes. “I thought nursing me back to health would spark a little Florence Nightingale Effect.”

  “You wish.” Seeing him responsive was such a relief she wanted to climb back there and kiss him.

  “You did good,” he said, his accent American again. “The rune saved my life.” His voice was weak, and he looked surprised, like he couldn’t quite believe he lived.

  “How?”

  “I’ll explain later.” He glanced down at his blanket-covered form and muttered, “Carl’s going to be angry.”

  “Who’s Carl?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Do you have any idea where we can go?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave her an address and passed forward his smartphone. She found the address on the other side of town.

  “Is this another safe house?”

  “No. A friend.”

  “I hope they have some medical supplies.”

  “He does. We’ll be safe there.”

  Sarah grunted. She doubted it, not with Mai Luan planning to hunt her down. She realized there was only one way she’d ever feel safe again.

  Either she or Mai Luan had to die.

  She voted for Mai Luan.

  “One more thing,” Tomas added weakly. “Don’t say anything about Gregorios or Eirene.”

  “What am I supposed to tell them?”

  Tomas didn’t answer. He had passed out again.

  Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue even in the face of enhanced Nazis that counts.

  ~Winston Churchill

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  God bless the makers of GPS.

  It took an hour to escape the city of Rome and drive up into the low hills on the outskirts of the city. Sarah followed the directions to a large estate with a guardhouse and high, iron fence. Seeing the armed guards made her very nervous and she became intensely aware of the pistol holstered under her jacket.

  With no other alternative, she drove up to the gate and forced a confident expression on her face. Most men reacted well to her smile.

  The guard leaned a little closer than strictly required and actually smiled when he asked her business. She hadn’t figured out a clever way to explain it so she rolled down the back window and gestured over her shoulder.

  “I’ve got an injured man here. Says you folks know him and can help.”

  As the guard advanced to peer in the window she added, “His name is Tomas.”

  The man apparently recognized Tomas because he made a wild gesture to a second man seated in the gatehouse, jabbering loudly in Italian. The gate began swinging open immediately.

  “What happened?” the guard asked.

  “Worst date of my life, that’s what.”

  He looked surprised. “You didn’t ...?”

  “No. Some kind of gang, I think.”

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” the guard said sincerely. “Take him up to the house.”

  She thanked him and accelerated up the winding drive. The house was actually a huge mansion set on a sprawling estate, surrounded by several outbuildings. Two huge, square towers flanked the main entry and everything was yellow stucco or rough-hewn stone. Ivy crept up one wall, adding a splash of green to the Mediterranean style. Red brick tile led her up the circular driveway and under the covered entrance.

  Four people rushed out to meet her, carrying a stretcher piled with bright red boxes marked with the white cross of medical supplies. Two wore white coats and she hoped they were doctors. Even before she turned off the engine, they threw open the rear doors and began assessing Tomas’ injuries. Their obvious professionalism and the fact that she didn’t understand half of the terminology they spoke rapid-fire between themselves gave her the first real feeling of hope since the brutal fight in the alley.

  “They will take very good care of him.”

  She turned to find a mature gentleman in a finely tailored, gray suit standing behind her. His hair may have been graying, but his shoulders were broad and he exuded a sense of strength. He carried himself with a military air, but his ice-blue eyes radiated warm concern that helped ease her worries.

  “Bring me hourly reports,” he directed the medical staff who were already shifting Tomas onto the stretcher. He spoke with a cultured, British accent.

  Sarah followed them toward the building, but the man in the suit placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Leave them to their work.”

  He extended a large hand and shook hers with a firm but not overpowering grip. “I am Quentin. Welcome to my home.”

  Sarah suddenly became aware of how terrible she looked in her bloody clothing and bedraggled hair. Hopefully he hadn’t seen the gun on her hip under her over-sized jacket. She wasn’t making a good impression.

  He seemed to understand her anxiety. “It appears you’ve had quite an eventful day.”

  She laughed softly, and that flushed the lingering terror. “You could say that again. I’m Sarah. Thank you for helping us.”

  “It is an absolute pleasure, my dear.” Quentin smiled and she noted the many laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. She barely knew him, but her first impression was positive. She hoped she was right about him.

  He took her arm and led her into the beautiful entry hall paved with peach-colored tile, and lined with archways. “What happened?”

  She might instinctively like him, but Tomas’ warning suggested the wisdom of caution. “Some crazy guys with guns jumped us on our way to dinner.”

  “Are you injured?”

  “No, just a little shaken. Tomas put up quite a fight, but they hurt him pretty bad. Knife wound.”

  Quentin grimaced. “Those are never good, but my medical staff are among the best in the city.”

  He led her into a luxurious salon and Sarah paused to stare at the expensive tile, the graceful arches in the doorways, and the comfortable furniture.

  “I love your house. Doesn’t look like a hospital.”

  “Thank you. May I offer you a place to clean up?”

  “That would be lovely. But how do you know Tomas?”

  “He and I are very old friends,” Quentin said. “I could tell you stories about him that you would never believe.”

  “You’re on,” she said. “I’d believe a lot.”

  He inclined his head a little. “I accept the challenge, my dear. It sounds like you know Tomas well.”

  “Sometimes I wonder.” She wasn’t sure how much to
reveal about herself, but Tomas had cautioned her against revealing their connection to Gregorios and Eirene, so that prevented her from discussing anything they’d done recently.

  He chuckled. “And you are American. Did you meet here in the city?”

  “No. We’ve known each other a while.”

  Quentin didn’t seem bothered by the vague answer. “Perhaps after you’re refreshed, you would enjoy a tour of my estate?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He rang a little bell on a nearby table and a black-haired woman in a white and blue uniform entered from the next room. “Please show Sarah to a room where she can freshen up.” He took her hand again before she left. “Thank you for bringing him here.”

  “I’m glad you were home.”

  Quentin smiled. “After our tour, allow me to host you in the dining room. I am a poor replacement, but I offer my services until Tomas is up and about again.”

  “Thank you, and I’ll hold you to the promise of some good stories.”

  Sarah followed the maid across the room and up a curving grand staircase with mahogany rails. She glanced back once. Quentin had not moved, and was watching her with a serious expression on his face. He smiled one more time and only then did he turn and stride swiftly out of sight.

  It takes a lifetime to grow up and become who we really are. For some, it takes several lifetimes.

  ~Dalai Lama

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The maid led Sarah to a huge suite. Beyond the private sitting room was a bedroom complete with balcony overlooking a huge pool. She also found a large private bathroom that had both a shower and a jet tub bigger than many Jacuzzis, already filled with steaming water.

  Even better, the solid wooden outer door sported a heavy brass handle with a lock, plus a separate deadbolt.

  She showered first. The shower had an entire wall of jets that enveloped her in a pulsing column of water. She started to grin as she spun slowly under the massaging streams. Then she noticed the blood running off her and disappearing down the drain.