Emerald Tears

Book One of the Sav’ine

STACY BENDER

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Byrnas Books

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Emerald Tears

Copyright © 2016 by Stacy Bender

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Cover art by Julian Norwood

Design by Elizabeth Mackey

Edited by Andra Paitz

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ISBN: 1537442007

ISBN-13: 978-1537442006

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

PROLOGUE - END’S BEGINNING

CHAPTER 1 - A SPIDER’S PARLOR

CHAPTER 2 – HUNTERS

CHAPTER 3 - CATCH A TIGER BY ITS TAIL

CHAPTER 4 - QUICK REPAIR AND ANOTHER DISGUISE

CHAPTER 5 - A COP, A CRIMINAL, AND AN ASSASSIN WALK INTO A BAR

CHAPTER 6 - TROUBLE OR TROUBLE

CHAPTER 7 – LAIR

CHAPTER 8 - IF THE TIGER HOLLERS...

CHAPTER 9 - DREAM OR NIGHTMARE

CHAPTER 10 - M.I.A.

CHAPTER 11 - KILLER INSIDE

CHAPTER 12 – GARGOYLES ALIVE

CHAPTER 13 - PAWN SHOP MEETINGS

CHAPTER 14 - TROUBLED NIGHT

CHAPTER 15 - QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS

CHAPTER 16 - LISTENER

CHAPTER 17 - PRISON CELL

CHAPTER 18 - TAILOR’S NEEDLE

CHAPTER 19 - MESS IN AISLE THREE

CHAPTER 20 - HUNGRY TIGER

CHAPTER 21 - ODD BEHAVIOR

CHAPTER 22 - REMEMBER

CHAPTER 23 - WORLDS COLLIDE

CHAPTER 24 - BLOOD AND GUTS

CHAPTER 25 - PAINFUL SURPRISES

CHAPTER 26 - CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS

CHAPTER 27 - SILENCE IS GOLDEN

CHAPTER 28 - BEST INTENTIONS

CHAPTER 29 – PEL’ASKGIA

CHAPTER 30 - GATEWAY TO HELL

CHAPTER 31 - CHASE AND HYDE

CHAPTER 32 – CORNERED

CHAPTER 33 - END GAME

EPILOGUE - RUBY DAZE

HANDS OF ONYX

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE - END’S BEGINNING

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Gabriel sat bolt upright in bed, sweat covered, and gasping for air. The nightmare etched forever in his mind. He could still feel the pain of the bullet and the taste of blood in his mouth. There was shock and confusion followed by the hideous feeling of life draining from his body.

He clutched at the bed linens, fighting to get both his breathing and heart rate under control. The ward was still, quiet, and dark. Moonlight shone through the large multi-pane windows and cast odd shadows over the rows of beds. Boys of all ages slept under the starched white linens. Their soft breathing was the only sound in the early morning stillness. Gabriel sighed and said a silent prayer of thanks. He had not screamed this time. Nobody liked being awakened by a bloodcurdling shriek in the middle of the night. It upset everyone in the ward. It would also mean another flogging from Sister Mary Joseph who thought she could beat the dreams out of him. Whipping was a stupid practice as far as Gabriel was concerned. He could no more stop the nightmares than he could stop his heart from beating. But that did not keep the old hag from trying. The nun was the only person Gabriel was unable to come to an agreement with. There was no truce. Not even the uneasy truce he had managed with several of the other clergy and children in the orphanage.

He did not have many friends. Maxwell and Dexter were the only two children brave enough to hold that position. Max’s curious mind overcame Gabriel’s reserve. Gabriel teased him that he would make a grand detective someday. Dexter, though two years younger than Gabriel and Max, had shadowed the older boys from the day Gabriel saved him from a playground bully. The rest of the children at Our Lady of Sorrows were in awe of Gabriel or terrified of him. The older children no longer tried to torment Gabriel. Their fear of what nasty and unique reprisals he might think up and torment them with, kept them at bay. Gabriel was only seven years old, but he was already smarter than all of his teachers. He could read a book and absorb its entire contents. He had pillaged half of Father O’Brian’s library and every level of the school’s curriculum, and still he needed to know more. At every chance, Gabriel snuck off to either the public library or the zoo to see the apes.

“Was it a bad one?” The soft rustle of linens followed the whisper in the darkness.

“Yes,” Gabriel said. His hushed tone sounded loud in the darkness. He threw off the sheets. There would be no more sleep tonight.

“What was it this time?”

“Same as always. Somebody shoots me. Go back to sleep, Max. I’m fine.”

Gabriel liked his other dreams better, because dying at thirty-six in a futuristic place was no fun. Having both a mother and a father was every orphaned child’s deepest wish. His dreams were far more detailed and never changed. They were more than just the happy times filled with doting parents and celebrations. There was the funeral of his mother with him as an adult. The agony of wretched emptiness filled that dream. He cradled the urn containing her ashes in his arms as his father stood beside him. Cremation was a crime in the Catholic Church, but again the dreams never wavered. Even the blood red banners that whipped in the summer wind signifying death never changed color. He wondered why the banners were not black, or even white. Gabriel had tried a few times to explain his dreams to other people. Adults thought he was nothing more than an imaginative child. Except for Sister Mary Joseph who accused him of being possessed by demons. She called him the bastard child of a promiscuous woman. Better had he not been born.

Gabriel grabbed his clothes and headed toward the lavatory. There he could clean himself up, get dressed, and think about what to do until daybreak. He could always read by candlelight in the chapel. The dismantling and enhancing of Father O’Brian’s precious radio no longer fascinated him. He longed to get his hands on old Mr. Banks’ brand new Model T Ford. One of the few wealthy patrons of the church, Mr. Banks lorded his riches over the other members of the congregation. Banks never let him near the Tin Lizzie. It did not matter that Gabriel could improve the machine’s performance.

Gabriel stared back at his reflection in the old and cracked mirror above the sink. He recalled his discussion with Father O’Brian the day before.

The priest asked, “What is it I need to fix today?” O’Brian doodled in a notebook on his desk and rested his chin on the other hand.

Gabriel tried not to laugh at the pictures of a nun with horns and concentrated on his equations. He glanced up when O’Brian asked the question. Then returned his focus to the papers in front of him, and kept writing. “The sister spotted me on the way to your library. She was waiting for me.”

“Did you tell her I gave you permission?”

“Do you honestly believe that she would listen?”

“Did you try?”

Gabriel stopped writing and looked at O’Brian. “I was being sarcastic.”

O’Brian stared at Gabriel with a look that let him know that a lecture on how to build a relationship was pending.

“I never used to be,” said Gabriel.

The comment made O’Brian blink. “Never used to be what?”

“Sarcastic.”

It irritated Gabriel how people dismissed him and did not understand him when he talked to them. At least O’Brian had the good sense to listen and did not treat him as an ignorant child.

“Gabriel, you’re still a child.”

“But I don’t act like it, do I?”

“No, no you don’t, but you might try. You need to get along with other children your own age.”

“You mean blend in.”

“Yes.”

“And if I refuse?”

O’Brian sighed before replying to Gabriel’s question. “Then you may find life rather lonesome.”

Gabriel closed the notebook he was writing in. He bounced it off his knees and thought about Father O’Brian’s words. The priest had told Gabriel that he was the one who found Gabriel as a baby on one of the back pews just before morning mass. The priest felt a certain responsibility for his welfare because of it. Gabriel did not want to stay in the orphanage any longer than necessary. In order to leave in the next seven to ten years, he needed to hone his skills and adapt to survive in the outside world. Cultivating a flexible and believable persona would increase his chances of success. To play the part people demanded, he needed to be ready for everything beyond Our Lady of Sorrows’ walls.

CHAPTER 1 - A SPIDER’S PARLOR

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Gabriel looked at the crowded dance floor and smiled. Business was good at Club Six. He sat at the bar and scanned the room with its art déco style of red and black tones. He chuckled to himself at his private little joke of the color choice. Black was the symbol of death in the real world, and red represented death in his dreams. Even the name of the club had a dark reference. Six was the biblical numerology of man, imperfect and easy to fall.

The dim lighting softly illuminated the small tables that filled the lower section near the dance floor. A railing separated each raised area creating a two-tiered effect, lined with booths and tables. The band played a lively tune on a platform separated from the curtained main stage.

The large emerald on his right ring finger glinted in the dance hall lights as he plucked a cigarette from his personalized, gold cigarette case. When he stuck the case back into his white dress jacket, his hand brushed over the revolver hidden underneath the material. The gun was secure in its holster. He never had a reason to use it, but he liked knowing it was there. When he lit the cigarette with a match from a container sitting on the polished bar, he glimpsed himself in the mirror. He had come a long way from the days of running bootleg whiskey, ducking the law, or hanging around Rufus and his gang. Gabriel was one of the first businessmen to turn his speakeasies into bars and nightclubs. They were considered respectable businesses again now that prohibition had ended.

He no longer went by the name Gabriel. He had left that behind almost twenty years ago. Emerald was what everyone called him because of his vast collection of the gems. Small or large, it did not matter. He had to have them.

“How about another drink, Emerald?” asked a bleach blond. The woman wore a shimmering, cream-colored dress that draped to the floor. Her face was heavy with makeup and her speech was slurred.

“Why don’t you go find another playmate?”

She pouted. “That’s not very nice.”

“I’ve got business coming, and you’re in the way. Now beat it.” Emerald hated being rude to her, but he had found out too late that she was a woman who did not care for niceties. It irritated him that she expected him to act like a cad and his patience was wearing thin. He concentrated on the cigarette in his mouth and avoided eye contact.

Still pouting, the blond haired woman slunk off into the crowd.

“Getting snippy with the hired help?” Max’s voice was gruff and sarcastic as always.

“She isn’t hired, and she isn’t help.”

“Why don’t you try to find someone smarter? You might not get bored with them so fast.”

“Are you handing out advice now?” Emerald gave his usual welcoming half smile before inhaling another round of smoke.

Max shrugged. “It beats handing out parking tickets.”

His best friend had changed over the years. At five foot six he had a muscular frame. His once sandy-brown hair was now laced with gray. Hard dark eyes squinted out of a lined face with stubble forever on his chin. Max was not just a simple beat cop, but the detective Gabriel predicted he would become. His old, shabby overcoat looked out of place among the jeweled women in fancy dresses with their dashing escorts. It was a far cry from the pressed school uniforms of their childhood.

Emerald asked, “How have you been?”

“Fine.”

“Is someone looking for me?” The greeting had never changed over the years. Emerald asked it every time they met, but it was no longer a line filled with hope. It had slowly turned mundane, empty, and rhetorical.

“Only the boys in blue, I’m afraid. The trouble is we can’t find you with your hand in the cookie jar.”

“Heaven forbid.” Emerald’s expression of mock horror received the usual grumpy look. “So what brings you here?”

“We got a tip about you in connection with illegal gambling.”

“I run a respectable night club. As a matter of fact, I run several of them.”

Max emphasized his words by rapping his knuckles on the bar. “And a disrespectable gambling hall or three. The problem is that we can’t prove it. Same way we couldn’t prove you were up to your neck in running booze a few years back. If I had been a detective back then, instead of just a beat cop, I could have busted you three ways from sundown. I could always recognize and figure out your tricks, Gabby. But now you’ve gotten even smarter. Why didn’t you use that brain of yours for something instead of getting into this mess?”

It was the same old argument. Why had Emerald not become a scientist? He had the brains for it. All he needed was the papers, and he could have forged those.

“I’m not working in a lab.”

As much as Emerald tried to hide it, Max caught the tension in his voice, “You’re still having nightmares? I thought they went away?”

“They never went away. But yes, they’ve been bad as of late.”

Emerald stared into the mirror and thought what an odd pair they made. Where Max was swarthy and stocky, Emerald was pale and thin. The unmanageable dark mop Emerald had as a child was slicked back and tamed. The reverse could be said of Max’s ruffled mess.

With a need to talk to an old friend, Emerald stamped out the unfinished cigarette. “In the dreams, I was thirty-six.”

“Let me guess, you’re thirty-five now, and you think you’ll die soon.”

“Yes.” Emerald paused for a moment, wanting something to do with his hands. He debated lighting another cigarette. “What if I can’t stop it?”

“What if there’s nothing to stop? You’ve described that dream more than once, and it still sounds like science fiction.”

Emerald gave no response but continued to stare into the mirror hanging over the bar. He noticed his friend scowl and glanced in the direction Max was looking. D.A. Anderson as he walked into the club with a few uniforms in tow.

“Son of a bitch. That’s all we need,” said Max. He placed his hand on Emerald’s shoulder. “Now we have to check the place out.”

“Go ahead, there’s nothing here.” Emerald’s voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

“The D.A. is here. Please don’t aggravate him, Gabby.”

At the mention of D.A. Anderson, Emerald’s face darkened. “That idiot couldn’t find a ham hock if it was squealing right in front of him.”

“Gabby, please,” said Max.

On a normal day, Emerald would have stayed at the bar and poked fun at Anderson. Today did not seem normal. The concern on Max’s face made him wince. He lit another cigarette to hide the reaction. “I don’t feel like dealing with idiots today. I’ll be in my office.”

Emerald stormed through the crowd and up the half flight of steps toward his office. He closed and locked the door before rounding the large carved oak desk. Dropping into the comfortable leather chair, he flipped a switch to douse the lights and another switch to retract the curtains covering two-way mirror. The mirror was specially made for the office to his exact specifications using a technique he formulated. The thing was huge, almost floor to ceiling. Through the mirror, he could view the whole club from inside his office with no one the wiser. Sometimes he would chuckle at the men and women who primped in front of it. He would have enjoyed the scene more tonight if it were not for Anderson. Emerald was not worried they would find anything damning. Long before the district attorney walked in the door, the access ways to the gambling hall were barred. Anyone who wished to leave the hall could, just not into the club.

Emerald hated the D.A. If the man had been a straight shooter, his opinion might have differed. Situations might have tempted Emerald to hand over a bad apple, but he had no intention of feeding the beast. Anderson was a bully on the school playground, only worse. You could not run home and escape him. He had the power to follow you and drag you out of your house kicking and screaming, straight to the gallows if he pleased. Pity the sap Anderson had in his sights.

The two reasons Anderson had not latched onto Emerald was that Emerald understood how to play the game and played it much better. He had the contacts in the right political pockets, and an enormous amount of red tape, false leads, and shell corporations. Untouchable or fictitious owners headed each of his companies. Anderson could spend the next fifty years on the paperwork alone and still not get anywhere. Even if the guy managed to shut down one of the illegal operations, he could not connect the dots back to the others. Anderson would croak if he ever figured out how many businesses, both big and small, Emerald had his prints on. Ninety percent of them were legitimate. Most were small joints, like the diner on Fifth and Main, or the print shop on Lexington Avenue. He backed half of the places in Shantytown depending on the year. His information pipeline was the only thing larger than his organization. More than once, Emerald wondered if it was political fame that Anderson wanted or the information that Emerald could acquire.

“How many times has that pretty little wife of yours walked into a door this week, Mr. District Attorney?”

His voice echoed in the darkness. He leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests with fingertips touching. Images of how the public might react to the news that the D.A. beat his wife flittered through his mind. Would they care about his beautiful, young wife, or would they find Anderson’s extracurricular preferences more entertaining?

A wicked smile curled Emerald’s lips as he considered telling Anderson about the information he had on him,. He decided that it was far too early to tip his hand. Unlike the D.A., he had patience.

He smiled as he watched Anderson and the son of Senator Harrington exchange words. If the overbearing lawyer pushed too hard, he would be in hot water, and part of Emerald hoped he would do just that. The young man did not like having his pleasant evening interrupted by the officers.

“Too bad, little man. Anderson has spoiled all your fun. The hall has closed for the night. You’ll have to find somewhere else to spend daddy’s money.”

CHAPTER 2 – HUNTERS

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Trash littered the darkened alleyway, and rats ran along the brick walls in search of their next meal. Only the more daring rodents ventured close enough to sniff the toes of the old drunkard. He curled up next to the trash cans with his latest bottle and debated throwing a stone at the rats when they scattered for no reason. Stiff from age and ailment, he leaned over to peer around the cans. A bright pinprick of light pierced the inky blackness farther down the alley. Fascinated, he watched as it shifted into a small triangular shape with tiny fingers of light that crackled along the edges and ate away at the surrounding air. That shape grew in size until the highest point reached six feet from the ground, and the base five feet wide.

Eerie, silent figures dressed in black slipped out of the pale triangle. They took up positions on either side of the alley holding what appeared to be blocky sawed-off shotguns. The two figures on point were tall but had a thin, feminine appearance. In the pale moonlight, he could just make out that both wore identical death masks. For a fleeting moment, he thought one had a tail. Once in position, they disappeared, absorbed into the surrounding darkness. The others were larger in frame. They also wore masks. Each one was more hideous than the other, and varied from near human to grotesque monster. The most disturbing one had a mask that showed no face, only large black eyes. The figure came through the triangle of pale blue light bent over almost double. When he stood to his full height, he towered at least a full head above the tallest dark figure. Ripcord thin and graceful, he moved to the front of the group, stopped, and waited. Something, equal in darkness, crawled on crablike legs through the light. Its cylindrical body threaded and flickered with pale blue lightning. Three long and reed thin tentacles trailed along behind it and were attached to the points of the triangle. As it moved forward, the tentacles collapsed into themselves and shrank the lighted passage into nothingness. The crawling thing, its glow fading, headed straight for the nearest figure. It climbed up the person’s legs and onto his back, attaching itself around the soldier’s body with its appendages.

The drunk stared dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. Through the haze of his alcohol soaked mind he realized they saw him in the murky darkness. Sudden fear pinned the lush to his spot. His bladder emptied as he watched each figure pass by him. A few of them glanced his way before dismissing him. When the last figure vanished into the night beyond the alley, the derelict sat back against the cold brick wall. He pressed the bottle to his mouth, and downed the last half of the burning liquid. He welcomed the oblivion.

CHAPTER 3 - CATCH A TIGER BY ITS TAIL

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Max was right. Emerald owned several successful gambling establishments. Each place lay hidden behind a maze of secret panels and blind hallways. If a person did not know the way, they could find themselves in a back alley, a washroom, an office room, or even a storage room. More than one person had said that trying to gain access to one of Emerald’s casinos was equivalent to wandering around an Egyptian tomb. Which, to the wealthy thrill-seekers, made Emerald’s clubs that much more desirable.

A few days later, in a shadier part of town, Snoop’s bar and pool hall was also raided by the police. The cops found the secret door that led to a small room. Inside, four gruff-looking men in suspenders and rolled up sleeves sat around a small table playing poker for pennies and pretzels.

“Oh dear, I had no idea. Do you think I should fire them, Officer, for gambling on their break?” Emerald tried his best to look shocked and innocent, but his boredom with the ordeal overruled the act. The officer in charge scowled in disgust at both Emerald and the dumbfounded men. He slammed the panel closed and stormed out of the smoke-filled bar. His cohorts trailed after the policeman as a few patrons snickered at their exit.

Emerald wished it had been Max who found the entrance. His friend would have spit, grumbled, and called Emerald every name in the book. Then his friend would have laughed and called him a dozen more names. If he had time, Max might have sat at the bar and run a half dozen ideas by him about how the trick was done. It made Emerald long for the days where he could tell his best friend everything. Alas, Max did not pull tonight’s little raid.

He made his way out of the dark, dingy, bar and into the large but equally hazy pool hall. The only light in the room came from the lamps centered above each pool table. Emerald skirted both the scruffy patrons and the worn tables and headed to his office. Beyond the door lay a spacious room that held a large battered desk and several comfortable chairs. Books on numerous subjects ranging from geometry to ornithology cluttered several shelves. A small window set high in the wall opened to the alley and let in air. The two men sitting in the room stood when Emerald entered adjusting their suits and ties as they rose.

“Relax, they’re gone. They didn’t even stay for a drink,” said Emerald.

Concerned by the incident, but not wishing to show it, Emerald sat down at the desk. From the bottom drawer he pulled a bottle of scotch and three glasses. He filled each glass before sitting in his chair and putting his feet on the desk. The question of who tipped off the police filled his head.

Emerald stayed lost in thought until bullets blasted through the door. He threw himself to the floor and scurried on his hands and knees to a hidden backdoor. He glanced over his shoulder to see Gus fire his cannon through the shattered wood before following Emerald. The secret exit led out into the alley and to a getaway car.

“They got Harry,” Gus said.

Somewhere in his conscious mind, Emerald registered Gus’s words. He heard the steel plated door slam shut, and the bolt slide and snap into place. It did not matter; she held his full attention and clouded his mind. Dressed in black she lay unconscious on the ground. A wicked shard of glass pierced her left arm.

“Boss?”

Emerald picked up the woman and headed toward the car. He ignored the confused look on Gus’ face and rushed past him. There was no time for questions. Gus sprinted forward to open the back door enabling Emerald and the woman slip inside before jumping into the driver’s seat. He gunned the engine and sped away from the pool hall.

“Gus, head to Nora James’ place. This lady is going to need stitches.”

Gus did not argue. He never did.

Emerald used his belt as a tourniquet. His fingers itched to do something, but he did not want to risk removing the glass and creating more damage. The thought of Nora’s services not being necessary disturbed him. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed the pale oval face. A single emerald tear tattoo, no bigger than a quarter inch was etched high on her cheek. The detail of the tattoo was precise, right down to the facets of the gem. Would he have left her for dead in that alley if not for the tattoo? He could not say, nor could he concentrate on his actions. He found it more captivating than any emerald he had. It called to him with a siren's song and made him want to possess the painted gem. His reaction was unreasonable, but he could no more stop it than cease to breathe.

“Hurry up, Gus.”

“I’m hurrying, Boss. I’m hurrying.”

They sped down the streets and cut across alleys to get to Nora’s place as fast as possible. Gus slammed on the brakes and with a squeal of tires slid to a stop in front of her building. No one questioned either man as Emerald carried the strange woman into the building. After racing up two flights of stairs, Gus’ heavy fists pounded on the door. He almost knocked the old woman over when she opened it. Her protests about his behavior stopped short when she saw the woman in Emerald’s arms.

***

Nora pointed towards the back bedroom. “Put her on the bed.” After locking the door, she followed Gus and Emerald through the living room. It piqued her curiosity when Emerald laid the woman down so gently, but now was not the time for questions. From underneath the bed she pulled a small black case full of medical supplies. When she extracted a pair of scissors she looked up to see Gus and Emerald still in the room. “What are you two gawking at? Go wait in the other room. I’ll call you if I need you. Now off with you. And close the door.”

The older woman bent down to snip away part of the cloth, but the scissors refused to cut. “Damn things. I thought I had those sharpened.”

Nora studied the injured woman. She wore a strange black jumpsuit covered with dark gray starbursts. It looked like something a lady might wear in the comfort of her own home. But her outfit appeared to be made of a heavier, more durable multi-layered material than the usual loungewear. She flicked her hand over the woman’s cheek thinking that there was a bug sitting on it before realizing the mark was permanent. With a scowl etched on her face she took a glass syringe out of the case, filled it with a colorless liquid, and injected her patient. In order to remove the glass, Nora had to peel back the the woman’s blood soaked garment. There was no major damage because the glass hit a foreign object embedded under the skin.

“Now what?” Nora worked the small capsule out of the wound. It was no bigger than one of the large horse pills she had in her medicine cabinet. She assumed it had entered the wound at the same time as the glass. When she wiped away the blood, she did not notice the strange tiny markings on the capsule’s side.

“Junk. Let’s hope you don’t get an infection,” she said. Then tossed both the extracted capsule and glass into the trash beside the bed and stitched up the wound. She cleaned up before going back into her living room. The question of who the woman was stuck in her mind, and she wondered if there was any hope of finding out what had made Emerald bring this woman to her.

***

Her eyelids were heavy, and her mouth felt like it was full of paste. Grym realized she was not where she had intended to be and thought better of trying to open her eyes. She needed to put the pieces of what had happened back together.

She remembered that they had split their search, each one taking a different direction while trying to maintain contact with the others. It was a difficult task beyond a limited distance due to the strange interference they encountered. She had lost contact with the squad a few minutes before she picked up the beacon. Though faint, it was as easy to single out against the noise and interference as finding a black marble on white sand. What shocked her was where the signal came from.. Grym had climbed down the wall to peer through the tiny office window. Her fingers and toes hooked onto the edges of the bricks, finding holes in the mortar. But the sudden hail of bullets startled Grym so much that she lost her precarious perch. Landing in the trash and glass was not to her liking. She barely had time to fake unconsciousness before the two men charged out the back door. To Grym’s surprise one of the men picked her up and took her with them. It had taken all her willpower to remain limp and relaxed. When the old woman gave Grym the injection, it made her too listless and sleepy. She feared that she had played possum far too long. Such a foolish mistake could have meant her death. The feeling she was losing her edge scratched at the surface of her mind and she pushed it away. Grym had a job to do.

Assessing the situation, Grym realized that she was in a bed, stripped to her underwear. Her suit, ripped and bloodied, lay draped over an old wooden chair. Yellowed wallpaper peeled back in several spots on the walls of the unadorned and shabby room. Her examination came to rest on the tall, slender man leaning against the wall in dress pants and undershirt, coffee mug in hand.

His gray eyes and sharp, pale features studied her from under the slicked back, dark hair. Grym wondered what game the Old Man was playing this time.

***

Emerald gave Nora money and hurried her out the door, telling her nothing other than to go visit her daughter and grandkids for a few days. He did not want to deal with her questions. There were too many of his own.

When Emerald decided that the woman might be more comfortable out of her odd outfit, he realized he might have been rationalizing his behavior. When he stripped her, he did not expect to have more questions raised. It was not the strange heaviness of the outfit, or that she wore a black skintight undershirt and matching panties, but the amount of scars on her body confused him. At first Emerald thought she must have been in a car accident, but a crash did not explain the healed bullet wounds.

Emerald studied the woman until she awoke. There was no fear in her dark eyes only mild interest, whereas his curiosity consumed him.

He asked, “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in that alley?”

“No,” she said. She rolled to her side and sat up on the bed. When the woman’s feet touched the hardwood floor, the threadbare sheet pooled around her waist. “What did she give me?” She still sounded groggy.

Distracted by her semi-nakedness, Emerald had to think about the question in order to answer. “It was probably morphine. For the pain.”

“What did she think I was a... what is it called... elephant?” The word came out as L-font. “I would have felt better without it.” Her thick, rich accent was familiar, but Emerald could not place it.

“What about the pain?”

“I have a high tolerance for pain.”

“I can believe that. The name’s Emerald. What’s yours?”

“I am called Grym.”

“Grim? That is an interesting name. Well, Miss Grim, where are you staying?”

She eyed him like a cat unsure of what it had within its grasp. “Nowhere. I just arrived in town.”

“Where did you leave your luggage, Miss Grim?”

“I travel light.”

“Very light.” Emerald counted the items off on his fingers as he spoke. “One outfit now ruined. No identification. No purse, and no money. You’re not going to get very far very fast, young lady.”

She ignored his words and leaned forward to retrieve her outfit. Grym started to put her clothes on.

The amused smirk on Emerald’s face did not fade. If she was not going to throw him out of the room, he was going to enjoy the view. “You’re not one for answers. Modesty doesn’t seem to be your strong suit either.”

“Something tells me you’re the one who removed my clothing, so I’m putting it back on. I don’t like to have conversations with strange men when I’m not fully clothed.”

As she got dressed, he rummaged around in the tiny closet. Emerald pulled out a faded and moth-eaten old sweater, he tossed it on the bed.

“Here, wear this. It doesn’t look that great, but it will cover the rip and the blood. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry, and Nora’s cupboards are bare, so hurry up. And stop playing with the lamp. Either the bulb’s busted, or the plug is dead.”

The woman glanced up at him, and ripped the electric cord out of the single shabby lamp that sat beside the bed. She rolled it up and put it in her pocket.

“What’re you going to do with that?”

“Perhaps I’ll strangle you with it.”

Emerald could not help laughing at her statement and left the room. He set the coffee mug on an end table in the living room. From off an old rocking chair, he grabbed his shirt and jacket and got dressed.

Gus had fallen asleep, fully clothed, on the torn and stained sofa in the living room. A kick to his shoes woke the big man.

“Come on, she’s awake, and I’m hungry. How does Eddie’s sound?”

“Sounds good to me, Boss.” Gus stretched and scratched at his short, strawberry-blonde hair and whiskers. Getting up, he smoothed what he could of his wrinkled suit and headed toward the door. Gus checked the hallway before giving the all clear. When they left the apartment, Gus locked the door and placed the key in his pocket.

“I’ll drop the key off or mail it. Glad she had a spare. I know she doesn't have much but I wouldn’t want to leave my doors unlocked around here.”

With both Emerald and Miss Grim in tow, he led the way back to the car. Gus kept an eye out for anything unusual and held the passenger door open for the couple. Once they were in the car, he slid behind the wheel and drove to a corner greasy spoon.

The smells of fried food and beef met them well before they opened the restaurant door. The place was packed, but they managed to grab three seats at the far end of the counter when a couple got up to leave. Gus and Emerald hardly looked at the menu. They gave their orders to the harried waitress as she wiped off the worn counter and filled three coffee cups. With only a brief questioning look at Miss Grim and her tattoo, the waitress yelled their orders at the cook. Her shrill voice carried over the noise. Emerald noticed the way Miss Grim concentrated on the menu as if trying to decipher hieroglyphics. He had noticed a similar look in people who tried to hide their inability to read. “She’ll have the special,” he told the waitress. Again, the shrill voice cut through the din, and the waitress moved to the next customer.

Emerald slipped the menu from Miss Grim’s fingers. “Can you read English?”

“A little.”

Not wanting to dwell on the subject, Emerald tried distraction. “The food’s good. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.”

Both Gus and Emerald lit up as they drank their coffee and waited for the food. Miss Grim sat between them, and remained quiet, but alert. Emerald watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her gaze traveled everywhere, taking in everything. Every time he or Gus did anything she focused on them. Emerald took his coffee black, whereas Gus put in cream and sugar. With a look of both curiosity and caution, she sipped at the hot liquid in her own cup. The look of disgust, which crossed her face, made Emerald smile.

She set the cup back on the counter and glared at the liquid within. “It’s bitter. It doesn’t smell bitter.”

“You could try putting cream or sugar in it.”

“Would it remove the taste?”

Emerald raised his own mug to his lips. “Doubt it.”

When their food came, Miss Grim was nowhere near as cautious. She was halfway through when Emerald asked, “Hungry? If not, I’d hate to see you and Gus here in an eating contest.”

When she put down her fork and picked up the coffee, it occurred to him that he might have embarrassed her. The idea of hurting or offending her made him tense. He did not want her to leave. Thoughts of how to keep her with him kept tumbling through his mind. Clothed and fed, what else could he do?

“You can stay with me. I’ve got a spare room.” Emerald ignored Gus as the big man choked and coughed on a forkful of eggs. “We’ll need to get you some clothes. Doris can find you something for tonight, at least. She handles the wardrobe at my club.”

Miss Grim neither objected nor thanked him.

“So what do your friends call you?” asked Emerald.

“Grym.”

From then on any conversation remained between Emerald and Gus because the mysterious Miss Grim refused to give any straight answers.

CHAPTER 4 - QUICK REPAIR AND ANOTHER DISGUISE

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Grym excused herself and headed toward the restroom. Once inside, she locked the door. The small room only had a toilet and sink, so she was alone. She removed the sweater, took the lamp cord from her pocket, and used her teeth to strip the insulation off both ends. Using a butter knife she had palmed from the counter, Grym removed the switch plate, and pulled out the connections. The available wires inside the wall were short. Grym scowled and pulled her sleeve over her hand. She used the knife as a screwdriver and secured the bare wire of the cord to the wires of the switch. Then she touched the exposed metal at the other end of the cord to one of the starburst patterns on her clothes.

Grym waited as thin, greedy tentacles reached for the electricity. The whole outfit shimmered and sparkled as the other starbursts moved and shifted before settling back into place. The rip in the sleeve mended itself as the material oozed over her skin like thick, black ink. It also absorbed most of the bloodstain. With her outfit repaired, Grym removed the cord, and replaced the switch. A quick brushing of her sleeve removed the few dried flakes of blood that were not absorbed. She put the old sweater back on and took a deep breath. Her reflection in the mirror above the sink caught her attention and she stared at it. “His eyes are different.” Grym did not mean to say the words out loud, but her hand shook as she unlocked the door. With a shake of her head to clear her wandering thoughts, she opened the door and rejoined the men.

***

“This isn’t like you, Boss.”

Gus kept glancing at the door to the restroom. “I’ve never questioned you before, but I’ve never seen you lose it over a dame.”

“I haven’t lost it, Gus.”

“Um, so what is that?” Gus gestured toward the lavatory.

Emerald rolled an unlit cigarette in his fingers for a minute. “Did you recognize the accent?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?” Emerald stared at the off-white door.

“Positive.”

“Call it curiosity then.”

“You’ll have her figured out in an hour, and she’ll be out on her tail. I’ll tell you what probably happened. Her old man tossed her out. Granted, she looks good and all, but maybe she’s got a temper or something.”

“Perhaps.” Emerald’s grasped at the elusive thread his mind kept telling him was within reach.

***

The threesome entered Club Six with full stomachs. It was Emerald’s main club and a full service joint. Patrons could have dinner, dessert, drinks, or dance, watch a show, and for a select few, gamble. They watched as the headliners and showgirls ran through new acts and touched up old ones. Wait staff and bartenders scurried around, preparing for the doors to open that night.

Emerald introduced the mysterious Miss Grim to Doris Henderson, queen of the wardrobe. No one questioned Doris’ abilities or her decisions. Those who tried realized too late that they were playing with dynamite. She took Miss Grim back to the dressing rooms hoping to find a suitable outfit and other accessories.

Doris dug through racks of clothes. Her chubby fingers pushed up the glasses that kept sliding down her nose making the beaded lanyard sway like a turkey wattle. Grym noticed the woman wore a measuring tape about her neck and a pincushion tied to her wrist. The frumpy dress she wore was in complete contrast of her constant chatter about sizes, colors, and style.

Uncertain what to do, Grym walked past a closet stuffed with every imaginable garment. She found herself amused at the strange array of colors, sequins, feathers, and fur. In silence, she listened to the constant litany of the dressmaker’s design ideas until the crackling of paper under foot drew her attention. The fashion magazine lay on the floor partially hidden under a pile of scarves, shawls, and boas. Grym picked it up and flipped through the pages before letting the magazine slip from her fingers and drop back to the floor. Doris turned her back and Grym made her escape.

***

When Doris realized she had lost her charge, she scurried through the rooms in a huff. She had thrown several dresses over her shoulder hoping with a minimal amount of adjusting they could fit Miss Grim. If only she could find the girl.

She seemed like a nice enough person, quiet too, but Doris felt that the thing on her cheek was plain scandalous. Where Emerald picked her up, Doris could not fathom. A brief debate with her conscience ensued before she thought better of it. The girl would find out soon enough about Emerald and his string of ex-girlfriends.

It took a full ten minutes to find Miss Grim standing before a full-length mirror in one of the dressing rooms. She was combing her hair and wearing a stunning green beaded dress adorned with delicate flowers. The draped back, and mermaid style bottom looked perfect on her.

“Oh my. I don’t remember that being anywhere in wardrobe, but it looks like it was made for you,” said Doris.

“Is this what is required?”

It took a moment for Doris to decipher Miss Grim’s thick accent and understand the question.

“Yes, yes it’s stunning. I didn’t think we would get so lucky, but we still have a lot to do. Emerald said that your luggage was lost and everything needed to be replaced. Nevertheless, that will do for tonight. Here, this wrap should go quite nicely with the dress. A mink would look much better with it, but I don’t have one.”

Doris handed her a white silk wrap and continued with her search to find the things Miss Grim would need for later. Emerald had given instructions to have everything delivered to his apartment. She did not believe that the girl had lost any luggage and thought it stranger still that Emerald was having the clothes sent to his place. Emerald was a lady’s man, but he was a good boss and a pushover for hard luck cases. Having to dress a tattooed foreign girl with nothing to her name was more than odd. Doris could not hazard a guess about what was going on, but experience taught her it was best to ignore what happened around her.

CHAPTER 5 - A COP, A CRIMINAL, AND AN ASSASSIN WALK INTO A BAR

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Emerald sat at one of the far tables in the club and watched the dance rehearsals. He did not move or bother to look over when Max entered the room and sat next to him.

“Hello, Max. Anybody looking for me?”

“Plenty. All of them demanding answers.”

“What kind of answers?”

“The truthful ones. Snoop’s Pool Hall was raided on a tip of illegal gambling.”

“Yes, I was there. Four boys playing penny ante.” Emerald chuckled as he turned to face Max.

“That’s what the sergeant said. The thing is, a half hour after that, someone decided to decorate the office door. We found one of your boys on the floor of said office full of holes. He had a piece on him.”

“Several of my boys carry guns, all legal. I made sure of that. I make too much money to risk being robbed.”

“That you do.” Max nodded his head in agreement. “Do you have any ideas on who riddled him with bullets? I’m assuming you were the target and he just got in the way. And don’t ask me about witnesses, they all disappeared. The bartender claimed to be in the can.”

“I could guess, but I’m not into guessing games. I’d love to know what the shooters say when you find them.” Emerald’s calm tone would have had the average person believing him.

“Bullshit, you know who, what, where, and how. You just don’t want to tell me. I’ve got a hunch somebody wants a piece of your action and is willing to get you out of the way for it. I just need to know who. So where were you yesterday after the raid?”

“I was with a friend.” Emerald smiled at Max.

“Not at the pool hall?”

“Nope.”

“The office is shot to shit, with one of your body guards on the floor dead, and you weren’t there?” Max could not help the irritation that crept into his voice.

“Nope,” said Emerald.

“You’re lying.”

“If I was there wouldn’t I be on the floor too? That office only has one door.”

“I’m not so sure of that. I hear you can walk through walls now. I doubt that, but you always had an escape plan. I don’t think you’d ever walk into a room without a back door.”

“Fascinating. What other stories have you been hearing?”

“That you run a clean game and that unlike some of the other joints, you don’t allow your patrons to get in too deep. Sometimes you even work out the debts in trade.”

“Seems like a real nice guy, this person you’re talking about.” Emerald put his elbows on the table and folded his arms.

“Yeah real nice.”

Emerald glanced over at Max and saw him chewing his lip. He recognized it as an unconscious habit, and a tell. Max wanted to say something, but he either could not figure out how or if he should talk at all.

Max cleared his throat and said, “Speaking of nice. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For having a few things fixed at my house.”

Emerald refused to act like he knew what Max was talking about. “If you needed things done, you never told me. What needed fixing?”

“The roof, the plumbing under the kitchen sink, a few other odds and ends. Imagine my surprise when after a week of working double shifts, I come home and Marcy is ecstatic that I finally hired someone to get things done around the house. Which, by the way, I did not. I was able to track down the people who did the work. It seems they’d been paid, in advance, to work on a house at 631 Ace Street and got it mixed up with my house, 681 Acer Street.”

“Lucky you.”

Max’s scowl deepened. “Yes, especially considering 631 Ace Street is a parking lot.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

Silence passed between them for a moment before Max inquired, “How’s Dex?”

“I hear he moved to Atlanta and opened a practice there. Doctor Dexter Hunter, married with three kids.” Emerald raised his hands, his thumbs and forefingers out, framing the unseen picture in front of him.

“You know the names of the kids?”

“Leonard’s three. I believe the twins, Maxwell and Gabriel, are eighteen months.”

Max smirked. “He stuck to me like glue after you left. I heard some rich, distant cousin died and left enough money to put Dex through college. Even on the outside, you always watched out for us, you infuriating son of a bitch. You never lost your heart. I’m glad the sister didn’t beat that out of you.”

Emerald did not reply. Max did not expect him to say anything. The two men sat in silence as Max fidgeted with a jumble of feelings. Frustration that Emerald would not give him the information he needed to help him. Anger because they had ended up on opposite sides of the law. And fear that Gabriel, like his dream predicted, would be dead at thirty-six.

Max spotted Miss Grim when she walked through the backstage doors. The shimmering green gown accentuated every one of her curves. Her shoulder-length, auburn hair was brushed back from her pale face, accentuating the dark eyes that scanned the room. Warning bells went off in the back of Max’s mind, but he could not figure out why. Maybe it was the way she approached their table like a large cat: graceful, unafraid, and hungry. Both he and Emerald rose at her approach, and Emerald pulled out the chair for her to sit.

“Miss Grim, this is an old friend of mine, Detective Maxwell Carver.” Emerald motioned in Max’s direction and then tilted his head towards Grym. “Max, this is Miss Grim.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to be blunt, but if you want to know where I was, Max, it was with Miss Grim.” Emerald took hold of her hand and sat beside her.

“Do tell.” Max’s mind worked in desperation to put the pieces together.

Miss Grim’s eyes darted between the two men. “Yes, Emerald was kind to help me. I fell yesterday.”

“You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“More pride than body.”

“I see. And he stayed with you. All night?” Max eyed the evening gown she wore. He was not much on fashion, but the thing looked expensive.

“Being overprotective can be endearing.”

“Or smothering.”

“If taken too far. Yes.” She looked at Max with calm, cold eyes.

“And nothing strange happened?”

“Depends. Define strange?”

“Oh I don’t know. Gun fire perhaps?”

She held her gaze steady as she answered, “Yes, that would be strange.”

Max eyed the small tattoo on her cheek, curious about it and her accent. He realized, talking to her would get him nowhere. If she had knowledge of anything, she was not telling.

“Well, Gabby, I best be getting back. If there is anything, and I mean anything, you can tell me, please do. Nice meeting you Miss Grim.”

Max tipped his hat to Miss Grim and walked out of the club. He slid into the passenger’s seat of the police car waiting for him outside the doors. They were halfway back to the precinct when Max realized what had been bothering him. Miss Grim had the eyes of an old soldier. They were cold, hard, and deadly.

“Ah, Gabby, what have you gone and got yourself into?”

“Excuse me, Sir?” asked the uniformed driver.

“I was just talking out loud.”

“Is there a problem, Sir?”

“I’m afraid there may be, but I’m not sure what. I just hope I can figure it out before it’s too late.”

***

Emerald watched Max exit the club. He could see the frustration radiating off his oldest friend. Max was right. Someone wanted him dead, but Emerald needed to take care of the situation his own way.

“Gabby?”

At the sound of the name, he turned back to Miss Grim.

“He called you, ‘Gabby’.”

“It’s short for Gabriel. Max is one of the few people who still calls me that.”

“I see. And you are friends or enemies?”

“Both and neither. It’s a long story and I don’t want to get into it right now.”

“You are more concerned with this shooting he was referring to.”

“Yes, and I think I know who’s responsible.”

With a slight tilt of her head, Miss Grim asked, “This person you speak of. He is dangerous?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. He’s after me, and I’ve got some good protection.”

“Are you dismissing me?”

“No, just the opposite, I want you with me.” Emerald was surprised at how much he meant what he said, and relieved that she did not object. Her only reaction was a raised eyebrow.

The rest of the day and night remained uneventful. Emerald did not bother checking the gambling hall. He did not want to chance bringing Miss Grim with him. She was still an unknown factor. The thought of leaving her unattended did not sit easy with him. The fear of her disappearing as mysteriously as she had appeared plagued him when she left his sight. She seemed content to sit and observe the goings on of the club and the people who came and went. Miss Grim never complained or said a word.

At one point, Emerald’s former girlfriend showed up and made a scene. When she saw him with Miss Grim she finally realized he had moved on and that they were not going to get back together.. He had to have her escorted off the premises. Throughout the entire ordeal, Miss Grim’s expression showed only mild disinterest. That night went into the early morning, and Gus drove them both back to Emerald’s place letting them off in front of the apartment building. Emerald said hello to the night watchmen they passed and went straight to the lift. Its operator yawned and took them up to the top floor.

The apartment was neat and well organized, filled with comfortable, somewhat stylish but functional furniture. Miss Grim trailed along behind Emerald as he showed her to the spare room which was now filled with the boxes of items Doris thought Miss Grim might need.

“Well this is it. The bathroom is down the hall. If you need anything, I’ll be in the other room.” He studied Miss Grim wondering what it was about her that drew him to her. From the first, she had shown little reaction to anything other than mild curiosity. She acted as if entering his apartment was an everyday occurrence, nothing more than a walk in the park. Most women would have objected or at least pretended to be shy about it.

“Are you ever going to tell me your first name?”

She did not answer right away. “Ag’dia.”

There was no feeling of recognition at the odd name, and he wondered if she had made it up not wishing for him to know her true identity. Emerald had to admit the woman had him intrigued.

“Goodnight, Ag’dia.”

Emerald closed the bedroom door, leaving her be. There would be time enough to solve the puzzle of the tattooed lady.

***

Grym listened at the door and heard Emerald cross the hall into his own room. A part of Grym wanted to understand what he was doing and why, but she shoved her curiosity aside. At least his actions made him easier to keep an eye on. Physically he was always an intriguing specimen to observe. When she was satisfied he had settled in for the night, she pulled off a flower that decorated her dress. The petals undulated and shifted into a small, dark gray, hairless tarantula. She took a bead from another section of her dress and inserted it into the center of the spider. Dropping it on the floor, Grym watched it squeeze under the bedroom door.

She eyed the bed, longing for sleep. Protocol demanded that she inspect the room, but Grym was so tired she knew she could miss something in her search. Grym did not bother pulling back the covers as she lay on the bed. Her intention was to rest long enough for her to function at proper capacity. The spider would wake her when it returned from its recon of the building. She needed to rest and process the information she obtained. Wyraitz would want a full report when they reestablished contact.

Logic stated that Grym should stay in the apartment for the time required. She would need to retrieve the items she left on the rooftop of the pool hall. To slip away unobserved required time, and Grym could not contact her fellow squad members to make the retrieval. Grym ran through several scenarios, but few possibilities emerged. Emerald was her biggest worry. It would have been one thing if he were safe. With someone else after him, she did not wish to leave him unattended for long. The Old Man wanted him; Grym assumed he wanted him alive.

CHAPTER 6 - TROUBLE OR TROUBLE

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News of trouble in the gambling hall attached to Club Six, forced Emerald to decide about escorting Grym to the underside of his business.

“What I’m going to show you, you’re to keep secret,” he said.

“As you wish.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Emerald’s face, before he led her through the door. They passed through a series of corridors until they reached their destination.

Emerald pulled a handful of playing chips from his pocket and handed them to her. “Go amuse yourself while I deal with the problem.”

She took the chips from his hand, careful to note which direction Emerald headed when he left. Grym gazed around the hall in wonder trying to understand the secrecy of it. She assumed they were not in an actual hall but in a basement. The intricate maze they followed led them a short distance from the club where they started.

Although similar in style to the club, the rooms were a smaller scale. Painted ceilings and well placed decorations gave the place the illusion of height and spaciousness. Women in black uniformed short skirts moved among the tables selling cigarettes, cigars, and mints as white-coated waiters served drinks. Soft luxurious carpeting helped to tame the noise of laughter and merriment. Draperies and alcoves separated a few tables providing those that wished it with privacy. Most of the lighting centered over tables except for a few dim lights pointing to the exit.

Grym ignored the tables with cards. She had never heard the names poker or twenty-one and had no desire to learn them. The slot machines were in a section by themselves, but they also held no interest for her. She wondered why so many people sat and watched the wheels of the machines spin, taking their money more often than not. The roulette wheel caught her attention. She had seen something similar long ago, but had never had the opportunity to play. She watched as several people place their piles of chips along the table. Players set certain pieces inside the numbered squares, and others on the lines. They placed more chips in labeled boxes. The only two she understood were black and red.

“Would you like to play, dear lady?” The elderly gentleman who asked sat in a chair at the long end of the table. She noticed that his eyes strayed for a moment to her tattoo. Grym was accustomed to people being edgy and afraid at the symbol of her designation, but here there was only curiosity or disgust.

“I don’t understand how it is played.”

The man’s eyes brightened at Grym’s words. “Well then, please permit me to explain. Come have a seat.” He stood up and motioned for her to sit.

“If you bet on an individual number, the odds are thirty-five to one. If you bet black, red, even, or odd, it is equal money.” He pointed to the rows and columns specified. “For this row the odds are two to one here, here, and here. Each box covers a select set of numbers.”

“Why are people putting chips on the lines?”

“They’re betting on more than one number. Try it. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Grym looked at the chips in her hand and realized that she had no idea of their value. She opted for caution and took the better odds. When Grym felt she had enough chips put aside to cover her original handful, she experimented with the winnings.

“I see you’re becoming more daring,” said the thin blond man sitting beside her. His bow tie was untied and hanging, and the two top buttons of his shirt left unbuttoned. She glanced at the small stack of chips on the table in front of him. “Bad night?”

The man’s eyes traveled over her form. “I think it’s looking up.”

Grym resisted the urge to hurt him. Being leered at was not what Grym was used to, and she did not care for it. Grym took the white silk shawl Doris gave her and covered the plunging V-neck of her black floor length dress.

“Don’t go covering up that pretty necklace. Lovely things like that should be displayed.”

Grym knew the man was not admiring the emerald necklace or the matching earrings Emerald had her wear. The cold look she gave him did not deter the young man, and he kept trying to draw her into a conversation. Grym thought of several nasty little things she could do to him to make him go away without alarming those around her.

CHAPTER 7 – LAIR

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The wind picked up and rustled the discarded paper at his feet. Ja’kil had picked it out of a trash bin earlier that day. He tapped Spi’dare for a translation of the small blocky letters and found they were similar to the news feeds at home. The plant-based material had news of violence and death. It also had news of weddings, parties, and other social information. Ja’kil decided to obtain another one in the morning as soon as he heard the young civilians yell out the new headlines. He figured that the more information they could acquire regarding the city the better. The squad was uneasy with the spotty information the technicians jacked into their brains.

“Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing yet, reception is still shoddy.”

“Hold this.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Watch it, will you? You could hurt someone with that.”

Ja’kil listened to the conversations of the rest of the team, but not with his ears. Their Link provided a constant murmur in the back of his mind. He could have blocked it out, but found it somewhat comforting. Their assignment had taken them to a strange planet where, at any moment, one of their members could be cut off from the squad. Ja’kil hated the thought of being abandoned with no one to talk to or confide in. Before the Sav’ine, there was only emptiness, a void in existence. It did not matter to him he had to subject himself to the Old Man. Not being alone was worth the initial pain of his surgical enhancements, and the job was easy. If things got a little odd, so be it; strange was normal for the Sav’ine.

Ja’kil glanced out the window at the street below and debated about removing his mask. Its upturned sides and snarling tusks looked like a cross between a boar and a wolf. The mask had long become a part of him, but today he was having trouble with the lenses. Something in the air was adhering to the lenses giving everything a hazy cast.

The thought of the substance entering his lungs prevented him from removing the mask. From his vantage point he could see the surrounding area. Below him on the street, one of the cities’ vehicles rumbled past. Its internal-combustion engine spewing forth both noise and noxious vapors. Most of the movement he saw was from pedestrians in their peculiar dress. None of them looked at the abandoned tenement building the Sav’ine had chosen as their base of operations. It was an eyesore, old and burnt out. The sign on the outside of the building announced it was going to be demolished. The building was the perfect place to hide.

Ja’kil felt a twinge of worry and aggravation. He understood that it was Wyraitz’s emotions seeping through the Link. Everyone had checked in but one. Wyraitz was not happy. The man tried to act as if he did not care and, on the surface, he accomplished it. Personnel outside their squad assumed he was incapable of feelings. Wyraitz was Sav’ine, and not just any Sav’ine. He was their leader. Wyraitz was responsible for them and they were loyal to him. He was the first chosen by the Old Man to become Sav’ine.

To see who was missing Ja’kil opened himself more to the others’ presence. Phalcon was on top of the building seeking the highest points with the best perspective, frustrated he could not ascend into the heavens in this world.

Ref’eal was resting somewhere on one of the lower levels in anticipation of the next watch.

As always, Spi’dare and Ruesh were multitasking: calculating, monitoring, seeking, and adjusting. Spi’dare was messing with the Gate Key again, an essential piece of their equipment that they referred to as “the squid” because of its likeness to the animal. Ruesh tinkered with something he had found on one of their searches. He was curious to see how it worked and if he could find any use for it.

Ja’kil could imagine the two moving in perfect harmony over an odd whatnot. They could use not only their humanoid limbs and fingers, but also their biomechanical insect limbs. Spi’dare’s extra appendages were implanted into what was left of his spine. No longer having biological matter beyond his midsection, Spi’dare’s biomechanical legs appeared normal whereas the extra four arms were tipped with tiny pincers and looked more arachnoid. When not in use they wrapped around his chest and waist.

Ruesh, although he could look quite humanoid, was almost all machine. His legs and one of the three sets of arms appeared human. The remaining two sets were modeled after insects. One was larger than the other and folded onto his back. The smaller pair was attached to the front of his torso and crisscrossed his chest when not in use. To watch them, one would swear that they were seeing two giant creatures of a nightmare, half mammalian, half insect. More than once, Ja’kil sat fascinated by the two least physically human of their group. He doubted that they had one heart and half a biological lung between them. On this world they were the two most vulnerable, yet essential, members of the squad.

Ja’kil searched for the rest of the group, but skirted away from Greevez’s mind. She was the one member that disturbed him. He could imagine her pacing. The long skeletonized tail embedded onto her spine whipping about, ready to eviscerate what came within spitting distance of her. He wondered why Wyraitz had her on the team, or how he could handle her dark and fragmented mind. If insanity were a beast, it was Greevez, but somehow Wyraitz kept it under control.

Grym’ska was missing. She was the quiet one. The squad did not hear her feelings or thoughts through the Link, unless she wanted them to. They felt her presence. Protector and killer, she was good at what she did. Grym’ska was the soldier a person did not want as an enemy. Anyone, civilian or soldier, did not live long if they opposed her. It was not like her to miss a check-in. Ja’kil wondered if something happened to her, but could not imagine what it might have been. He knew that if she was dead, they would be lucky to find a greasy spot. The thought disturbed him. He liked Grym. She could be nice when she chose to be. She was a good hunter and one of the best killers.

CHAPTER 8 - IF THE TIGER HOLLERS...

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A well placed kick to the stool leg collapsed the seat from underneath the young man. Her good timing spilled the whisky he was attempting to drink all over his clothes when he fell back onto the floor. Several people at the table burst out laughing. Grym joined them, welcoming the relief from the stress of her assignment. Seeing the annoying youth’s panicked expression while his limbs flailed about was well worth the effort of not killing him.

“Grim, my office, now.”

Emerald’s harsh words stifled Grym’s laughter and the merriment surrounding her. Gone was the brooding kindness of the person she was getting to know. In its place was the angry countenance she remembered. Alert and resolute, she rose and left the table. Her winnings forgotten. As Grym followed Emerald, part of her registered the whispered comments of the nearby patrons.

“—didn’t know she was one of his—”

“—should’ve known by the rocks—”

“—give it a month—”

“—you’ll have your chance—”

“—what set him off—”

“—did you see his face—”

Emerald held the door for Grym and followed her into the room locking the entrance behind him. The room was small, furnished with a desk and two chairs. The only adornment was a large mirror and a single painting of a racehorse on the pale colored walls.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Grym turned, her back toward the desk, and tried to understand the cause of his anger. The shock of his lips on hers confused her. There was no gentleness in his touch as he shoved her back over the desk, scattering its contents over the floor. Grym barely managed to restrain her combat training.

“You’re mine.”

His words sent chills down her spine, but for the first time in her life, she hesitated to defend herself. Rough hands pulled the shawl away giving him free access to the deep V of the neckline and its hidden clasp. He gripped Grym’s neck and held her down, pressing her onto the desk. His free hand yanked at his belt and pants. Emerald dragged her toward him.

“You’re mine.”

Grym did not fight him.

“Emerald, I don’t understand—”

A knock on the door and the rattle of the doorknob interrupted her. Gus’ voice called from the other side of the door. “Boss?”

Emerald’s body froze and he blinked several times. “Oh god, what am I doing.”

Grym glimpsed the swirling emotions in his eyes: pain, loss, horror, regret, and more. She closed her eyes against her own uncertainty.

She felt him pull her up and cradle her in his arms. His touch was no longer hard and cold, but firm and protective.

“Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ve never done... I don’t...”

“You’re mine.” Grym repeated his words as she rested her head on his shoulder and felt the tremors of his body.

“What?”

“You kept saying, ‘You’re mine’.”

“I did? I don’t remember. I don’t know what got into me.”

Another knock on the door reminded them of where they were. Gus called from the other side, “Boss, one of the tables needs you.”

“Shit, what do I do now?” Grym felt Emerald shift and looked up to see him glance back at the door before focusing on her.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” Grym said the words though she did not mean them. The temptation to take them back pulled at her when she felt his reluctance to leave, bringing on even more confusion. She watched as he righted himself, stepped to the door, and unlocked it. Emerald looked back at Grym, the shame naked on his face.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. What I almost did was unforgivable. I’ll understand if you never want to see me again.”

Emerald slipped out the door softly closing it behind him, leaving Grym to stare after him. Muddled by the experience, she reclasped the front of her dress, and realized he had managed to deactivate the spiders. When she reactivated them, they moved and shimmered. The dress shifted and reformed.

Grym used the mirror to check her appearance, adjusting the dress, and ran her fingers through her hair. Her outward appearance remained cold and indifferent as her upbringing demanded. Beneath the surface, she remained shaken and confused.

“Who are you, Emerald? And why me?” Grym closed her eyes and bowed her head. “I am Clan. I’m nothing.” With a sigh, she turned from the mirror and exited the room.

***

It surprised Emerald to see Miss Grim at closing. Fear and hope collided within him when he spotted her at the bar nursing a drink. He had spent the whole night with a fake smile plastered on his face trying to find a solution and change what he had done. The hollow ache he felt at the thought of never seeing her again had been ripping at his insides. But her cool demeanor gave no hint of what passed between them. Emerald dared not say a word when she slipped off the bar stool and walked over to him. He expected Miss Grim to hit him. Scream at him. Anything, but the calm silence she gave him. Emerald attempted to form another apology, but Gus interrupted him.

“You ready, Boss? It’s been a long night.”

“Yeah.” Emerald’s response was automatic, but his body was slow to react as he watched Miss Grim follow Gus to the car. Neither said a word on the drive back to his apartment. Her manner did not change when the two entered the apartment. When Miss Grim raised her hands to the clasp on the necklace she wore, Emerald found his voice.

“Keep it.”

Even to his own ears, it sounded like a plea. She stopped moving, her arms and hands frozen in midair.

“It looks good on you.”

He touched her cheek and ran his fingers along her neck. When she did not object, he kissed her, careful in his attentions. In the back of his mind, he prayed he would sleep without dreams.

CHAPTER 9 - DREAM OR NIGHTMARE

––––––––

Ge’berle checked the data again and smiled. Everything was coming together. With any luck, they would be well ahead of schedule. Excited, he almost knocked over the drink Ad’ran brought into the lab for him. It had long since grown cold, so he dumped the contents into the sink. He rinsed out the black cup decorated with a geometric emblem and placed it on the counter.

Lockers with see through doors stored a kaleidoscope of test samples, each labeled and sorted. The lab was quiet, and that realization annoyed him. The soft hum of the cooling fans was deafening in the stillness. Somewhere a COM Link played an obnoxious tune before cutting off with a loud beep.

Ge’berle wondered where everyone had gone. He checked the clock. Its face glowed with strange digital symbols that he understood to mean 2032 hours. Ge’berle had worked late and everyone else had probably gone home. It was not the first time. When he worked on something interesting, he became absorbed in it. Nothing else mattered. His father joked the building could burn down around him, and Ge’berle would not notice.

Ge’berle decided to give into his need for sleep and go home. He could start again in the morning. Even though the research floors were a large maze of rooms and corridors he did not even glance at the maps posted at intervals along the halls. His legs knew the way out which allowed his mind to continue working. He was lost in thought until section eleven, when he almost tripped over the body of Ela’reeze.

She lay sprawled on the floor, eyes staring into nothingness. The strange blue tint to her mocha skin and the foam along her mouth were the only telltale signs of poisoning. Her shattered cup was still by her side. Its contents soaked into her lab coat turning it a creamy brown. Ge’berle patted his own lab coat, searching the pockets for his COM Link before realizing he had left it at his desk again. He bolted to the hard-wired COM Link on a desk and punched the line for security when he heard Ad’ran’s voice.

“Put it down, Sir.”

He looked up to see Ad’ran’s usually cheery face creased in anger. Ge’berle demanded to know why Ad’ran had not called security. “Don’t you realize that Ela’reeze is dead? Someone murdered her.” Then fury turned to disbelief as Ge’berle spotted the small gun in Ad’ran’s hand. “What are you doing? Don’t point that thing at me.”

“Why didn’t you just drink the tea, Sir? This would have been so much easier. I could have downloaded the information I needed and left. No one the wiser. Now you’ve gone and made a mess of things.”

Part of Ge’berle’s anger seeped away, replaced by both fear and betrayal. “You can’t do this.”

Ge’berle released the handset, letting it clatter to the floor, and raised his hands in a feeble attempt to ward off what was to come.

“It’s all part of the job.”

“But our work...”

“I don’t give a toss about the work. What I cared about is gone. You had her division sold off. You didn’t have to, but you did it for the profit. My daughter had rank, and we both know what that means to a sale. You didn’t even try to find her a new position. No, you had your men put a bullet in her head.”

Ge’berle heard a loud pop, and not the blast he expected. Seconds passed before he felt the pain. He stumbled back against a counter and slid to the floor. His hands went to his chest only to come away covered in blood as he felt his life drain away.

He heard people yell but did not see them. Multiple gunshots sounded in the distance. Someone started talking to him in a language he did not recognize as English. This lead him to the realization that none of Ad’ran’s words had been English either, but he could understand them just the same.

“Stay with me, Ge’berle, don’t you die on me!”

The voice was familiar, as was the uniform of pale gray with white starburst stripes. He could not make out her face. She was backlit by the harsh laboratory lights. She sounded angry.

“Don’t you die. Not on my watch!”

***

Emerald opened his eyes to the late morning sun. It was the first time he could remember ever sleeping through the night. It was also the first time he did not wake up from his dream as soon as he was shot. His arms wrapped around Ag’dia, and his head rested on her bare stomach. Emerald lay still for a while and debated whether or not he wanted to move when he felt her fingers comb through his hair. He raised himself up on his forearms and looked at her. She still wore the necklace from the previous night. The earrings were lost somewhere on the floor.

Her dark eyes were half closed yet watchful. “You were dreaming, mumbling in your sleep.”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t make out what you were saying. Was it bad?”

“It always is.” His voice was low, not quite believing that he was awake.

“How so?”

“It’s the same dream I’ve had for the last thirty-five years. I usually wake up screaming.”

“That is bad. Have you told anyone of it? They say that helps.” Ag’dia brushed a stray lock of hair from his face.

“It doesn’t. I still see an employee dead on the floor. He poisoned her. Ad’ran, the one person everyone trusted, shoots me.”

With her eyes half closed, he could tell she was alert and thinking. “When were you born?”

“I’m not sure, late summer, early autumn perhaps. I was left on the back pew at Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church and raised in the orphanage. No one wanted an odd little kid that woke everyone up in the middle of the night.”

“Odd?”

“Seems I’m smarter than most people.”

“Really smart?”

“Off the charts smart. I tend to know things others don’t.” Emerald kissed her stomach and worked his way up her torso.

“Like what?”

“The distance between the moon and the earth. Every element on the periodic table, plus a few elements that aren’t listed. The speed of light. Things like that.”

She giggled when he hit a sensitive spot. “I thought everyone understood that?”

“Not everyone.” A hint of a smile played on his lips for a moment. Emerald grew serious when his fingers traced one of her scars. “Where are you from?”

“Nowhere, everywhere.”

“You moved around a lot?”

She ran her fingers through his hair again. “Yes, and you?”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been out of the city. I guess I’m just a homebody.”

He watched as she wrinkled her brow and frowned. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, why all the security around the clubs, when you’re not there?”

“Security?”

“They stand around and try to look like they belong, the ones with guns under their coats.”

Her ability to spot his security personnel surprised Emerald. “You noticed?”

“I thought it was obvious as the gun you carry.”

“And the illegal gambling wasn’t obvious?”

“Illegal? So that’s why the parlor tricks.”

“Parlor tricks? Ok smart lady so answer me this. Where is Club Six’s gambling hall?”

Ag’dia frowned again in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t swear to it but if I hazarded a guess, the basement of the bakery across the street?”

At the dumbfounded look on Emerald’s face, she burst out laughing.

CHAPTER 10 - M.I.A.

––––––––

“Where have you been?”

Grym heard Ja’kil well before she saw him and felt both his anger and his relief.

“You missed the rendezvous, and Wyraitz is pissed. He wants to find the package and get home yesterday, and I don’t blame him. This place is worse than a Chaitan burial ceremony.”

“It has its good points,” she said.

“Is that why you’ve been missing? Playing hooky were you?”

“No, I’ve been working, and you can tell Wyraitz I’ve found it.”

“What? And you didn’t haul ass with it back to base?” His emotions battered at her like a two year old throwing a tantrum.

“It’s more complicated than that. I need to talk to Wyraitz. Where is he?”

“Everyone’s out looking for you and the package.”

“There’s a club on Park Avenue called Club Six, and an apartment on Central in the Monterey Building. I’m usually in one of those two places, but for the past few days we’ve been traveling a lot.”

“‘We’?”

“Yes, we. It’s a person not a thing.”

“It’s a person? SanYahit, that’s all we need.”

“That’s not the weird part.” Grym wished Ja’kil had more control. Communications over the Link, combined with his childish nature, drained her.

“Weird, it gets weird? This whole fragged assignment has been weird from the get go. As in two headed weird.”

“Well, now it is serious mind-altering drugs weird.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was. We will need to be very careful I think. That is why I need to talk to Wyraitz. He was closer to the Old Man. Maybe he knows more than what he’s telling us.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Ja’kil’s grumpiness was making her irritable, and Grym tried blocking his emotions.

“Wyraitz plays it close to the vest, but he has never steered us wrong.”

“True.” Ja’kil acknowledged her statement and calmed. “What are you going to do?”

“Follow the package and make sure he stays out of trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Bullet holes kind of trouble. Someone wants him dead.” Grym could feel Ja’kil’s irritation and temper build again.

“This just keeps getting better.”

“The authorities are after him too.”

“Got any more good news?” His comment dripped with sarcasm. It turned to worry when Grym let slip her own disturbance.

“Grym’ska?”

She had no desire to talk to Ja’kil. “I’m not sure. I need to talk to Wyraitz.”

“Why so secretive?”

Grym could feel Ja’kil pushing, and snapped at him, “Stand down, Ja’kil. I don’t have to explain anything to you, only Wyraitz. I am still trying to wrap my head around it. Nothing is making sense, and it all sounds insane.”

“So?”

She felt Ja’kil once again push at her mind for answers. Grym lashed out at him hoping to make him physically and mentally cringe.

“Damn it, Ja’kil, stop being an ass. Tell me how a man can die in my arms one day and be alive without a scratch the next? Now kiss off and get Wyraitz.”

She severed the connection, turned, and made her way down the street in the early morning. The whole conversation had taken seconds. They never came within twenty yards of each other.

Grym flagged a cab.

“Three twenty-five Montgomery and hurry please.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She gave the taxi cab driver the wrong address on purpose. Montgomery was a block away from Emerald’s apartment building. When Grym exited the cab, she moved with the crowd, making her way back to the apartment. Her timing was perfect as she slipped past the doorman while he attended to a elderly woman in need of a cab. Using the stairs to jog up to the apartment, Grym paused halfway to catch her breath and slowed her heart rate. Gus and one of the alternate bodyguards stood outside the apartment door looking worried until they spotted her.

Grym held up the bag she was carrying and did her best to sound sweet and innocent. “I bought pastries if you are hungry,”

The relief on Gus’ face was immense. He pointed his thumb at the apartment door. “You’d better save them for the boss.”

“All right.”

Gus held the apartment door open for her.

When Grym walked into the room, she glanced at the pair of sentry spiders she had hidden on either side of the doorway. Both remained where she put them. One spider was behind a chair, and the other was underneath a side table by the front door. She hoped that they would remain dormant but wanted something to alert her to anyone’s passage. The sharp ping of their alarm registered with her in the cab on the way back. The knowledge that Emerald tripped them was a great relief.

Shadows of worry and fear clouded his expression, but it lightened when he saw her. “Where were you?”

Grym held up the small, plain bag she carried. “I went out for a walk, and I found a pastry shop.”

“Where else did you go?”

She paused, looked at him, and dropped the bag on a nearby table. Her eyes never left his, as she stepped close, and placed her hands on his chest.

“What is it? Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll try to fix it.”

“I woke up, you weren’t here, that’s all.”

“Afraid I left you? Do you like me that much? I don’t think I have ever made anyone as jealous as I do you.” She pouted trying her best to mimic the women at the club when they wanted something from their escorts. “Usually, people want me to go away and leave them alone.” Grym caught her verbal blunder in time. Emerald would not understand if she accused him of sending her away.

“Why would anyone tell you to leave them?” he asked.

“I guess I scare them. I don’t scare you though, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

Grym moved her hands around his neck and pressed against him. Her lips brushed his.

“There is no need to be jealous. I won’t leave.”

“Stay by my side always?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”

CHAPTER 11 - KILLER INSIDE

––––––––

Grym walked along the display counters packed with colorful bottles of perfume, jewelry, and accessories. She wondered again how she had ended up here away from Emerald. Sylvia chatted away beside her about the merchandise and the latest fashions. Louis, Gus’ new partner, trailed behind them with arms loaded with various boxes and bags. Grym liked Sylvia. She was nice and cheery, like sunshine after the rain.

“Sylvia, if you two buy anything else we’ll have to make a stop at the car so I can unload all this stuff. Or can we get it delivered?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, you’d think we bought the store the way you talk.”

“Honey, I’m glad you talked Emerald into letting Miss Grim have a girl’s day out, but I’m supposed to be making sure that nothing happens to her. And I can’t do that with my hands full of boxes and bags. I told you what happened at the pool hall.”

“Oh that was just dreadful.” Sylvia turned stepping toward Louis and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you weren’t there. You could have been killed. Why do you insist on being a bodyguard, anyway? Why not an accountant, or something?”

“The pay is good, and if I keep you around much longer, we’ll need it.” Louis crinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out at her.

“Too late now.”

Grym noted that the couple’s constant bickering contained no malice. There was only exaggeration, and it sounded more like playful banter.

The temptation to stare or ask questions nagged at Grym. Why was it so important for a female in this society to coat their nails in enamel? Sylvia insisted the dark red looked best on Grym. To Grym it looked like blood. The paint felt heavy on her nails, but unlike blood, it would not wash off with soap and water. But Grym liked the haircut Sylvia suggested. It was short and easy to manage. The makeup, what little she had agreed to, made her itch, and Grym decided she would not wear it again. The panic she felt with the concealment of her designation had eased but never went away. Every time she passed a reflective surface, Grym had to remind herself it was her own image.

Sylvia inspected the jewelry in one of the cases before turning her attention to Louis. “Well, why don’t you go run back to the car while we’re in the dressing room?”

Louis’ eyes grew wide in mock horror at Sylvia’s suggestion. “What and leave you two alone?”

“They don’t allow men in the women’s dressing room. Hit men are a definite no-no. So we’ll be safe enough. I promise we won’t leave the department without you.”

It took another ten minutes of arguing before Sylvia won the battle and sent Louis to the stairs.

“Louis is such a sweetie, isn’t he? I thought I was the luckiest girl, the first time he asked me to dance. I hear you and Emerald are quite an item.”

“What do you mean?”

Sylvia put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Don’t give me that innocent look. Everybody knows. He must consider you special because this is the first time he has ever put a bodyguard on one of his girlfriends. Don’t you realize you could have him wrapped around your little finger without even trying?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Grym had not thought of anything beyond her deeply ingrained sense of honor and duty. Any musings of civilian life were fleeting.

Grym did not mean to let her composure slip, and it surprised her that Sylvia noticed. “It’s a good thing isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. We know so little of each other.”

“A woman has to keep some mystery.” Sylvia smiled at Grym.

“Perhaps I have too much mystery, too dark of a past?”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad.” Wide eyed, Sylvia asked, “You’re not married are you?”

“No.”

“Is there a crazy ex-boyfriend or anything?” Grym gave another negative and Sylvia shrugged her shoulders. “Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I wish I could be so certain. Things have been so confusing lately.”

“Confusing, like what?” Sylvia cocked her head to the side allowing her dark curls to sway.

“This place, this city.”

“You mean they don’t have department stores in your country?”

“Yes and no, it is just different. I have been with the Sav’ine for too long, perhaps I have forgotten.”

“Seven, what’s seven?”

“Sav’ine, it is forever.”

Sylvia took both of Grym’s hands in hers “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Come on, I didn’t mean for this trip to turn gloomy. Let’s find something pretty. By the way, what is your first name? I can’t keep calling you Miss Grim all the time. It’s just, grim.” Sylvia giggled and bit her lip.

“Ag’dia, my guardian called me Ag’dia.”

“Adia, that’s such a beautiful name. Much better than your surname. Come on, I spotted the most beautiful dress a little while ago, and I’m just dying to try it on.”

Sylvia chose several dresses for both of them and marched Grym to the fitting rooms.

“I think this pink dress would be wonderful to wear at the church picnic. What about you?”

In the stall next to Sylvia’s, Grym held up a deep blue dress in front of her. She did not bother to try anything on but studied the cuts and designs of the material.

“I am, uncertain.” Grym was not used to having choices. Everything had always been chosen for her.

Grym heard Sylvia leave her stall and did the same. When they went to exit the dressing room, a man barred their way. They were surprised by him and uneasy when they realized they were the only women in the room.

“What are you doing in here? Get out,” said Sylvia.

“I suggest you keep your voice down lady.” The man emphasized his point with the end of the gun he held in his hand. “As for you, Miss Grim, you’ll be coming with me. Quietly, I hope.”

“Why should I?” Grym was curious why the man wanted her to go with him. She assumed it had to do with Emerald. Sylvia’s presence was an issue. If the man was foolish enough to fire the gun, he could hit her. Grym doubted he would want to draw undue attention to himself, but she could not be certain.

“Because I said so, now move.”

Grym stepped toward him positioning her body as a shield between the gun and Sylvia. She did not give him time to pull the trigger. Grym jammed the fleshy part of her hand underneath the hammer while ramming the heel of her free hand into his nose. The action shattered the bone and sent the slivers into his brain. He went down without a whimper. Careful to avoid the blood that ran from the man’s nose, Grym dragged his body into the nearest dressing stall. Someone had left articles of clothing inside, so she ripped them off the hangers, tossing them over the body. Closing the stall door, she dropped to the carpet, and squirmed her way out through the narrow gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. When she stood up, Sylvia was staring at her. A deer caught in a car’s headlights, blinded and not knowing what to do.

“We have to leave, Sylvia. We have to get you to Louis, and we have to do it now. Can you act normal?”

“I... don’t... You killed him.”

“Sylvia, listen to me. You’re a strong woman. You need to get your purse. Leave the dresses here if that’s what you would normally do, but we need to leave.” Grym talked to the shocked woman as if she were talking to a child. Sylvia followed Grym, the dresses forgotten. Grym scanned the crowd as they hurried from the room and headed to the stairs. No one noticed them. People were too busy shopping.

They met Louis at the top of the stairs where he agreed to wait for them. The worry showed on his countenance the moment he saw Sylvia’s pale face. Grym cut him off before he could say a word.

“Later, we need to leave now.”

Louis took Sylvia’s hand in his arm, and she clung to him. They hurried out of the store, down to the street, and over to the car. Grym pulled Sylvia from Louis’ arm and helped her into the back seat. “Louis needs to drive. We need to get you home.”

Louis jumped into the driver’s seat and glanced in the rear view mirror. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Later. Sylvia first. She’s in shock.”

He scowled, but started the car and headed straight to the little brownstone where he and Sylvia lived. Louis pulled up in front, gave Grym the keys to unlock the door, and picked up Sylvia, carrying her into the house. He sat her on the sofa and poured her a drink from the liquor cabinet. She held the glass in both hands and sipped at the contents before she started to shake and cry. Sylvia clung to Louis, and he held her close.

Grym sat in a chair opposite the pair.

“What happened?”

“A loss of innocence.” Grym could not think of how else to explain it without having to answer more questions.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Through Sylvia’s muffled sobs, both of them heard her say the word ‘kill’. Louis pulled her away from him so he could see her face. “What was that?”

“He had a gun.” Sylvia blurted out the words, then gasped for air. “She killed him.” After another ratcheted breath, she added, “We could have died.”

“Killed who?”

When Sylvia shook her head, Louis turned and scowled at Grym.

“I didn’t recognize him, but he had a gun. I’m not sure what happened to the attendant, but we were alone in the dressing room.” She paused and remembered their playful banter earlier. It seemed now a premonition of disaster. “Physically she’s fine.”

“And you?” asked Louis.

“I have learned to take care of myself over the years. The hard way.” Rising from her chair, Grym headed for the door. “You should stay here with Sylvia. I can take a cab back to the apartment.”

“Emerald said I was to look after you.”

Grym turned toward him, her fingers touching the doorknob. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. You should stay with Sylvia.”

“Grim Reaper.” Louis’ words were so soft she almost missed them.

“What did you say?”

“The Grim Reaper. The guys call you that because of your name. They think it’s funny.”

“Why? What is this, Grim Reaper?”

“Death.”

Grym turned the information over in her mind, but could not see the humor in it. She left the couple alone and walked out of the building. It was only a short walk before she picked up a cab. The driver was polite and chatty, and he did not seem to mind Grym’s sullen mood. A block from their destination, Grym made the cabbie stop and tipped him well. She took her time walking to the entrance of the Monterey building.

“Does someone need to disappear?” She alone heard Spi’dare’s voice and welcomed it.

“It’s been taken care of.”

“What about the witness?”

“Shaken but unharmed.” She spotted Spi’dare not far above her on the building. He was clinging to its side, the talons of his bio suit hooked into the brickwork. The slight discrepancy in the pattern of the bricks was the only thing giving away his presence.

Unlike Ja’kil, Spi’dare controlled his emotions. “We may have to move soon.”

“True. If only we were certain Emerald wouldn’t take our presence badly.”

“Would that be our presence, or your true nature?”

“What are you implying, Spi’dare?” Grym felt him shy away from her.

“Nothing, I’m just frustrated. If I could get the damn coordinates set, we could just grab him and go. As it is, I’ve missed an exit.”

“You’ll get it right. Perhaps you just need a breather.”

“You think Louis will tell?”

Grym turned the thought over in her head before answering. “I’m more concerned about him being blamed.”

“That is a possibility. We’ll keep an eye out and make sure he is safe.”

“Thank you.”

“So, now what?”

“I’m not sure. Emerald trusts me, but I’m starting to make everyone else nervous.”

“Everyone gets nervous around you. I’m surprised it’s taken them so long. You better figure out what to do soon. Wyraitz gave you the lead in this. Don’t tank the job.”

“Are we getting cranky, Spi’dare?”

“I’ve been cranky, and I want to go home.” Spi’dare cut the connection, leaving her alone.

Grym smiled at the doorman when he tipped his hat, and held open the door for her. The doorman always smiled at Grym as did the lift operator. A multitude of questions engulfed her thoughts on the ride up to the penthouse. Her usual amusement at someone having to pull levers to engage a machine failed to distract her. When he opened the elevator gates allowing her to exit the lift, Grym’s questions plagued at her conscience. Sylvia would be changed by her experience, but for the better or the worse Grym did not know.

She heard Emerald on the phone in his office as she let herself in the apartment door. Gus rested in one of the comfortable chairs in the main room with his eyes closed, and his feet on an ottoman. Grym doubted he was sleeping. It was hard not to think of Gus as Clan. He paid attention to everything and followed his orders without question.

Grym placed her wrap and purse in the closet and wandered toward the office. Emerald sat behind his desk on the telephone. After he said his goodbyes and hung up the phone, he came around the desk and took her into his arms.

“You’re back early.”

“Sylvia wasn’t feeling well.”

“Nothing serious I hope.”

Grym wanted to avoid the question. “Louis is with her. He’ll take care of her.”

“He left you alone?”

Grym realized her mistake and tried to correct it. “I insisted that he stay with her. Nothing happened to me, and I can take care of myself. I’m no longer a child.”

The scowl stayed on Emerald’s face as he slipped his hands over her hips. “I can’t help it. I want to keep you safe.”

“Here I wanted to keep you safe.”

His scowl turned to concerned when he caught a glimpse of her hand. He took Grym’s palm and examined the torn skin and the darkening bruise. “You’re hurt.”

She had forgotten about the injury. The pain was only a minor annoyance, and she tried pulling her hand away. “It is my own fault and it will heal.”

A strange thrill coursed through her veins when he kissed her hand. Grym wondered about the man in front of her.

“I still have a few things I need to do,” he said.

“That’s all right. I can amuse myself.”

***

“Freddy Walker is dead.” Gus tossed the paper on the table next to Emerald’s morning coffee. The bright sunlight shined through the windows off the balcony.

“Spoleto’s man?”

“Yeah. Someone found him in a ladies’ dressing room.”

“Which store?” Emerald picked up the newspaper and started reading.

“Don’t know. One of the big department stores.”

Grym observed the men’s reactions while consuming her own food and drink. Louis stood by the door, nervous in his movements.

“Didn’t you send Louis there with Miss Grim yesterday?”

The muscles in the back of Grym’s neck tensed. From Gus’ question, and Louis’ manner, there was no doubt in her mind Louis told Gus everything. It seemed to her that neither man wished to test their luck against her with Emerald using a direct confrontation. Grym recognized the tactic and felt honored by their approach though she considered it unnecessary.

Emerald never took his eyes off the newspaper. “Walker was Spoleto’s right-hand man, wasn’t he?”

Gus stood behind Emerald and looked at Grym. “Yeah, makes you wonder who had the balls to take him out.”

“Good question.” Emerald tossed the newspaper next to his empty plate and stood up from the table. “Bring the car around. We’re seeing Rufus today.” Gus and Grym both watched Emerald enter his office.

When Emerald was out of earshot, Gus asked, “It’s my job to keep the boss alive and well. What I want to know is, is the boss safe?”

“That is a very good question. One I don’t have the answer to.”

CHAPTER 12 – GARGOYLES ALIVE

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Max spotted a young man sitting on a suitcase in the middle of the sidewalk in the late morning sun. With a large sketchpad propped on his knee, the man scribbled and scrawled all over the page. His coat off, tie loosened, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Max did not think the man was a street artist. Carson Street was not the place for such things.

Most people walked around him on the crowded street, but a few looked over his shoulder at what he was drawing.

Max asked, “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing?”

The young man looked up from his sketching. A bemused expression on his face. “What?”

“You’re blocking the middle of the sidewalk. I want to know why.”

The baffled looked changed to a wide grin, and the young man adjusted his glasses. “I’m sketching gargoyles. The buildings round here have such lovely architecture. I’m so glad I moved here.”

“You’re new to the city?”

“Oh yes. I just stepped off the bus today. The new job starts Monday. I’m staying with a friend until I find a place of my own.”

“Good for you.” Max wondered how fast the city would clean out the hayseed’s pockets. If the kid had any common sense, he would not have left the small town where he came from. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re blocking the sidewalk.”

“Didn’t I say?” The young man pointed at the higher floors of the building on the opposite side of the street. “The gargoyle. It’s a rather intriguing specimen. It’s very different. Aside from it being offset, it’s the only carving not on a medallion. I think they put it there as an afterthought, or maybe someone miscalculated the supplies or space. That happens when people hire someone who does sloppy work.”

Max looked up at the building. It looked like every other structure: several stories high, made of red brick, with accents of pale stone ledges and floral medallions. “Gargoyles are those ugly-looking critters that hang off the roof. Right?”

“Yes, but some of them are quite beautiful.”

“I don’t see one on the building.”

“It’s right there.” The young man looked up at the building as he pointed. Surprise and confusion replaced his cheery demeanor. “I don’t understand. It was right there.”

“Well, it isn’t there now.” Max was wondering how many drinks the kid had on the bus ride into town when the young man became excited.

“There it is. Over there. But how? Gargoyles don’t move.”

Max was too seasoned a cop to fall for such shenanigans. He was not about to take his eyes off the young man. “Listen kid, you’re a good actor, but let’s drop the naive gag, and tell me what you’re up to.”

The young man did not listen to Max. His eyes grew wide, and he kept staring up at the building. When the man’s face went pale, Max wondered if maybe it was not an act. He glanced up at the building but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Did you see it?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“It dived into the brick and swam to the edge. Then it jumped to the next building.”

Max heaved a sigh. He did not want to deal with drunks this early in the morning. “Look kid, why don’t you go to your friend’s place and sleep it off?”

“That’s not possible. Gargoyles don’t move. Stone doesn’t move.”

“Don’t make me take you down to the station.”

The young man shook his head and took a step back. His voice rose toward hysteria, “It’s not possible.” He dropped the sketchpad, grabbed his suitcase, and ran. “I’m going home.”

“Good riddance.”

Max watched the man disappear into the crowd. He picked up the discarded sketchbook and looked at the picture the young man had been working on. Cherubic features encircled by feathers and leaves smiled up from the page. Lizard scales covered the humanoid body. It leaned forward on the page while large talons on its hands and feet anchored it to the wall drawn behind it.

CHAPTER 13 - PAWN SHOP MEETINGS

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Inside the dimly lit room, the liquor might have been watered down, but the company was always good. Rufus sat at his desk across from Emerald with his books open. Louis stood by the door and tried to make himself invisible. Emerald did not like it, but Ag’dia remained outside with Gus. He understood Rufus refused to conduct business in front of the ladies.

Rufus’ chocolate complexion contrasted his pearl white teeth and enhanced his Cheshire cat grin. “Business is steady, not too many problems these last few months. As long as nobody rocks the boat we should be fine.”

“If you would let me draw up plans for this place, you could have hidden rooms and not have to pay such heavy bribes. Maybe even expand your business.”

“Then the man would just come down that much harder on us. You are a big help, Mr. Emerald, but you can also hinder. If things get too complicated, everyone will know you’re behind it. Sometimes simple is better. As it is, we have more snoops around. Luckily, no one trusts the cops and snitches are only interested in money. And a decent roll of cash shuts a lot of mouths and closes a few doors around here.”

“Anderson.” Emerald’s tone made it a statement and not a question.

“You’re lucky no one likes him around these parts. That man’s hot for you, Mr. Emerald.”

Emerald inspected the bracelet he held under the light of the desk lamp. The emeralds were small, but of high quality, and set in gold roping. The diamonds that shared the setting were much larger, but they did not interest him. It was odd, but he had little desire to acquire the bracelet or its emeralds. It was just one of the many changes in him as of late. Emeralds had always captivated him. In the past, they were akin to a siren song, but the stones did not sing to him anymore.

“The only thing Anderson has to know is that someone needed money. They had an emerald bracelet to sell, and you knew a buyer.”

“I’m just acting as a pawnbroker, Sir. Seeing as how that’s my business.” His Cheshire cat grin widened.

“Everyone knows you run a poker game out of your back room, but nobody cares.”

The grin disappeared, replaced by concern. “They would if they knew you owned the building.”

“Then make sure no one finds out.”

“They won’t.”

Emerald looked up from the bracelet. “What about that crazy brother of yours?”

“JJ won’t say a word. Even if he doesn’t like you or trust you, he likes the money. He won’t jeopardize that.”

“Are you sure? I hear he’s been getting into things he shouldn’t.”

“He always was a wild one, but don’t worry. I’ll handle him.”

Emerald glanced at the bracelet in his hand and looked over at Rufus. “I think I’m going to stop collecting.”

Rufus’ eyes grew wide. “Say what?”

“Do you have another buyer?”

“No.”

Emerald slipped the bracelet into his pocket. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you holding the bag. But from now on, no more stones. I’ll take the bracelet, have the stones reset, and the gold melted down.”

“A pretty item like that?”

“Pretty hot I’m guessing.”

The return of Rufus’ wide grin was his only reply.

“As for the business, I’ll have Andy come by for my cut. He’ll know what to do with it.”

Both men got to their feet. Rufus asked, “You putting it into the school this time or setting someone else up in a business?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’re a strange man, Mr. Emerald. You could be a fat cat sitting up on the hill in the lap of luxury. But you give most of it away.”

“What am I going to do with more money, Rufus? You can only spend so much. The only things I collect are emeralds, and I’m considering giving that up.”

“Truth? No stones?”

Emerald shrugged. “They don’t have the draw they once did.”

“Neither do the women.”

“Excuse me?”

Rufus refused to make eye contact. “Nothing really, just hearing rumors.”

“About me?”

“Just the usual.”

“What is it, Rufus?”

“I’m not sure if it’s anything. But your girl has an emerald tattoo.”

“So?”

“Did one of your men take out Walker?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Rufus glanced at Louis and then returned his attention to Emerald. “There was a blond haired woman a few days back who also had an emerald tattoo on her face. From what I heard, she was no stranger to violence, and she liked it. Too much. She terrified the James boys. They swore the crazy bitch almost killed them. Then she disappeared. A few days later she showed up on another street and harassed someone else.” Rufus eyed Emerald. “What are the odds, there being two of them?”

Emerald looked away from Rufus and shrugged. A part of him did not want to know the answer. “Well, if that’s all I guess I’ll get out of here.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

***

Grym had wandered outside after it was hinted that she was not to hear about the business being conducted inside the building. The neighborhood was rundown. Trash littered the streets. Several children played on the sidewalk. She noticed what few adults were in the area walked with eyes downcast and kept their distance. Grym watched as Gus polished the car in which they rode around the city.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she Miss?”

It took a moment for Grym to understand that Gus was referring to the machine.

“She’s a Ford Model B. Also known as a Model 18.” He smiled with pride. “But she isn’t just any Ford. No, Emerald and me, we altered the engine. She’s fast, real fast.”

The Ford was a burgundy colored sedan trimmed in black and chrome, with white-walled tires and spoke wheels. Gus kept it, and Emerald’s other cars, spotless.

“You talk as if it is alive,” she said.

Gus shrugged and swiped at another smudge of dirt with his handkerchief. “You like the boss, don’t you?”

“How do you mean?” Grym figured he would ask more questions, but his verbiage unnerved her.

“Oh, I don’t know. You two seem to be real close. I don’t ever remember Emerald ever getting too cozy with a skirt.”

“Skirt?”

“A girl, a woman.”

Gus straightened and sighed. “Listen, I know you’re not stupid. Though some of the things you do and say make me wonder what kind of backwoods place you come from. But according to Louis you know how to handle yourself. And based on how you inspected the gun that some idiot left on the table yesterday, you know how to handle a weapon. And damn it to hell, I can’t help liking you for that. You’re not like the other girls that the boss usually has hanging on his sleeve. You don’t complain you’re bored, or have a fit because you busted a nail. You don’t even mind cleaning up when something gets busted or needs fixing.” Gus ran his fingers through his hair and scowled. “The boss seems more at ease when you’re around. He laughs more. A real laugh, not the fake ones he uses for the rubes. He hasn’t had a dark mood since you showed up.”

Grym frowned. For a moment she thought Gus was telling her she made a mistake, but she had never known beneficial error. “This is not normal?”

“Let me put it this way, you’ve lasted longer than any of us ever expected.”

Louis interrupted their conversation when he stepped out of the building. He held the door for Emerald and the short, chubby Rufus.

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Emerald,” said Rufus. His eyes twinkled when he smiled. When he turned to Grym, he made a slight bow. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Grim. We’ll be seeing you again I hope.”

A group of children came running by with smiles on their faces. “Hey, Mr. Emerald.”

“Hi.”

“Do you have any candy?”

A tall kid in a striped shirt elbowed the boy and said, “Mickey, don’t be rude.”

Grym watched Emerald pull candy out of his pockets along with several bills.

“Make sure your mothers have food on the table. And get some new shoes. The ones you have look worn through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Emerald.”

“Stay in school and read all you can. The more you know, the more you can accomplish.”

The small crowd dissipated.

Rufus pursed his lips and shook his head. “You shouldn’t encourage them, Mr. Emerald.”

“Why not? Things change, Rufus, but only if someone takes the first step.”

“They’ll get beat or killed first.”

“Maybe not. Change is hard but do you really want your grandkids living like this?” Emerald waved his hand at the surrounding buildings. “Don’t you want them to walk down a street, any street, with their head held high?”

Rufus shook his head and smiled. “You take care of yourself now.”

“Next time, Rufus.”

CHAPTER 14 - TROUBLED NIGHT

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Grym looked at Emerald in the darkness, his body motionless in sleep under the sheet. It was not the term of endearment he had used that bothered her. It was that he had not said it in English, but in Selg’neh. Grym did not think Emerald realized how he had said the word. She speculated on how the man lying next to her was connected to her assignment. Why he was so important to the Old Man? Unless it was the one thing that was impossible. His face, his voice, even his actions were the same, but Emerald was so very different than Ge’berle. He was day, the other night. She never saw him treat anyone the way Ge’berle had treated others. Emerald was quick to admit his mistakes and did his best to fix them. Something unheard of in Ge’berle. Grym could not connect the sneering contempt she was used to with the man before her. Lack of respect was something she had grown used to over the years. She mulled everything over trying to find answers to her questions. She did not want to think about her own actions and unfamiliar emotions.

“It is a dangerous game you are playing, Grym’ska.”

Grym gritted her teeth before acknowledging the intrusion of the Link. “Greevez, what brings you here?”

“Curiosity.”

“Is that all?” Grym felt the defensiveness building within her.

“I couldn’t help listening to your murmurings. I repeat, you are playing a dangerous game, Grym. This could turn out badly for you if he is who you suspect. How well do we know what he thought of us?” Greevez did not hide her disgust.

“Yes, there is no forgetting that, and yet. Is it all a lie? No one is that good of an actor.”

“Memories are volatile. They can be altered with ease.”

“Yes, but experience changes us. We of all people know this,” said Grym. She wrestled with the problem while she tried not to let Greevez’s chaotic mind confuse the issue more than what it already was.

“True. I want you to think of this. If he is or if he is not who you think he is. What do you believe his reaction would be if he were to find out who you are? If he found out what you are? He is not one of us.”

“Go away, Greevez, leave me alone.”

“You need to face reality.”

“You have Wyraitz.”

Greevez hissed. “He’s never touched me.”

“Not physically. While it’s true you’ve never slept together, we know better. We say nothing. Because of the Link connection, you both have joined on a level ordinary people only dream of. We hear you, Greevez. The entire squad hears you. No matter how hard you try, the barriers between our minds are only so thick. Now why can’t you leave me alone? Why can’t I have this? I don’t care if it’s just an illusion.”

The emotion and power from both of their minds grew jagged and sharp, fraying nerves.

“Greevez, don’t make me regret I convinced Wyraitz to invite you on to the team. Blood and Clan only go so far, and you’re pissing me off.”

“We gave up our lives for a semblance of sanity, Grym. What will happen to us when you crash and burn?”

“Damn you, Greevez, for once in your life leave me alone. I want to feel human!” Grym’s anger, frustration, uncertainty, and fear burst out to pummel Greevez. Grym felt her cringe and flee from the onslaught.

***

Emerald awoke to see Ag’dia sitting up in bed staring out the window. Bathed in moonlight, her white satin nightgown shimmered and made him think of an angel. It concerned him that she had been crying.

“Hey.” He touched her wrist, startling her. She gave no resistance as he pulled her into his arms. “What is it? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yes, a nightmare. A nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

Fear seeped into Emerald’s heart. He did not want her to disappear. “You want to tell me about it?”

“How can I explain what I don’t understand?” She snuggled into his arms, her body cold against his skin. “Can you make me live again?”

Emerald held her close, thinking it was an odd question. Then he recalled the scars that crisscrossed her body. “I can certainly try.”

***

Gold and silver eyes studied the night. They measured the speed and direction of the wind and the brightness of the moon. The distance and size of a heat signature or a visible figure was also calculated. Ensuring the optimal conditions for a kill was a force of habit. In another life, fire had blinded him. Now his surroundings could have been daylight and the distance, no further than a whisker. The slight flickering of light within Phalcon’s biomechanical eyes lay hidden behind the lenses of the bird mask. If by the improbable chance someone spotted their shine, the person would have discounted it as the reflection from the eyes of an animal.

The night was quiet. It had rained. In the air, the strange smells of the street still lingered mixing with diesel, rotten vegetation, and damp earth. Phalcon longed to experience the wind rushing by him high above the earth. There was nothing in this place which could match it. Most of the buildings were only five or six stories high, although a few were closer to twelve or fifteen. Still, they were mere anthills compared to the towers and ravines to which he was so accustomed.

Wyraitz interrupted Phalcon’s thoughts. “There are many things here that are strange to us.”

“New problems, Sir?”

“The same as before. I managed to avert violence.”

Phalcon felt Wyraitz aggravation and worry. Part of a memory flashed over the link of Wyraitz’s dark hand gripping Greevez’s pale wrist. “We were given insufficient information about this place. We expected it.”

“Why is it just me that has the problem?”

“What keeps happening?”

“I’m unsure. My apparel is the same as the others but if I try to walk in the open among the civilians...” Wyraitz paused mid-sentence.

Phalcon could feel his anger. “They’re recognizing you for what you are.”

“Possible, but instead of fear there is hate.”

“What’s Greevez’s reaction to this?”

“Why do you ask?”

Phalcon felt Wyraitz anxiety heighten. “She argued with Grym.”

“Is that all?”

“I know you listen to the Link. We all do. We all hear you, Sir. Greevez’s frustration and agitation is still seeping through. How did you stop her from killing them, the men who followed you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re allowing your memories into the Link, Sir.”

Wyraitz was doing more than opening himself up to the Link, but Phalcon had no desire to point out his indiscretions. “They followed you into an alley.”

“Then you know I activated my bio suit and disappeared.”

“Greevez was with you.”

“I grabbed her tail and calmed her down.”

“Those men are lucky they are alive.”

“Are you questioning my judgment, Phalcon?”

“Never. But Greevez is growing more impulsive, and Grym is changing.”

“And you think I should do something about it?”

“With Grym? No. Let her take the pleasures of the moment. Death can come to anyone at any time. I should know. I’ve dealt the fatal blow many times.”

“And Greevez.”

A strange nagging sensation pulled at Phalcon. It was new, unfamiliar, and his own. Because of it, he risked overstepping his bounds. “Greevez could be a problem. Logic must overrule emotion.”

“Have you ever had a mistress, Phalcon?”

“The rush of the wind is mistress enough for me.”

“Do you miss her?”

Movement far below on the street drew Phalcon’s attention and gave him a welcome distraction. Instinct adjusted his eyes for a better view. Someone was watching. If it was a friend or enemy, he could not tell. He did not recognize this man, but Phalcon noted his features. He cataloged, filed, and relayed them to the other Sav’ine. The night had more than one pair of eyes. By Phalcon’s count, there were at least four different camps, each with their own agenda.

***

Spi’dare monitored the brownstone where Louis and Sylvia lived. After the incident with Grym, he secured the residence with several surveillance spiders. Wyraitz conceded when Grym insisted that the couple needed to be watched. If the man in the alleyway was intending what they suspected, Grym’s concerns were valid.

“We should interrogate him.” Ruesh’s suggestion made Spi’dare cringe. Spi’dare had to help with Ruesh’s first interrogation when they arrived in the planet. He did not want to have to participate in another.

“Do you think that is necessary?”

“We need more information about this place. Wyraitz is having too many problems. We need to find out why.”

Spi’dare tried for another excuse. “He is not required to walk among the civilians.”

“We have limited data on everyone involved. A proper interrogation would give us the information we need. This is an opportunity.”

“He’ll scream.”

“Most likely.” Ruesh loaded the paralytic into his gun and took aim. “Get ready to catch him.”

In the deep shadows of the alley, Spi’dare prepared both his mind and body for what lay ahead. Ruesh pulled the trigger. Spi’dare did not bother adjusting his camouflage in the darkness. It was no longer necessary. He bolted forward to grab the man from behind and drag him back into the alley. He used the lower of his two sets of biomechanical arms to secure the man to his chest. To steady the man’s head he used the set of arms embedded higher on his back. Spi’dare used his biological limbs to grip the man’s arms. The struggle was brief as the paralytic took effect. The man’s frozen reflexes enabled Spi’dare to adjust his hold. Ruesh would need a good position. One mistake could leave their victim a drooling vegetable or dead.

Ruesh appeared in front of them from out of the darkness. Spi’dare did not have to imagine what the man in his embrace was thinking. To his own mind Ruesh’s visage was a nightmare from the bowels of the underworld. Ruesh’s mask was a twisted screaming face held in a skeletonized hand. It looked worse illuminated by a soft blue glow coming from his open chest cavity. Ruesh’s appendage implants were similar to Spi’dare’s. He did not need to use them for the interrogation process. Spi’dare held the subject, but intimidation tactics could be useful. Ruesh held his four biomechanical arms out to the side mirroring his two normal-looking arms. The chest plate in the middle of his torso opened further and resembled the jaws of a multi-fanged leach. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind came from within the cavity. Iridescent liquid passed through various thin tubes that ran along fiber thin wires. Ruesh settled in front of the man before expelling six needle fine probes from inside his chest cavity.

“Would you like to bet on how long it will take him to scream?”

“No. If I wasn’t holding his mouth shut our ears would be ringing. Stop trying to annoy me and get it over with.”

“Fine.”

Ruesh inserted the probes into the man’s orifices, the eyes, the nose, and the ears. Once Ruesh made the connections Spi’dare felt the backlash of the interrogation. The man’s mind struggled to comprehend what was happening to him.

The interrogation would not take long. They never did. Ruesh still needed to be careful. The procedure of sifting through another’s mind, especially an unwilling victim, was tricky in the best of times. Too hard of a push could send the subject into a spiral of insanity that would gain little, if any, information. The Sav’ine needed more than just surface data to understand the society. They wanted to know more about the city and its customs. Interrogation was the easiest way to get it. Spi’dare likened it to the rape of a person’s memories.

“He’s just another mercenary,” said Ruesh. “It’s a revenge contract. His employer thinks Louis is responsible for Grym’s kill.”

“She thought he might be blamed.”

“This man doesn’t have much other information.”

“Get what we need and get out. His psychic screams are pounding on my nerves. I’m tempted to break him in two.”

“Be still. His views of the workings of his society will be skewed by his own perception, but he will give us a better understanding of the language.”

“Sometimes I think you enjoy extending an interrogation.”

“A Link to another’s mind has certain advantages.”

Spi’dare waited for him to finish. It would take time for Ruesh to sort through the stolen memories before relaying the needed information to the others. Relief from the man’s mental screams came once Ruesh removed the interrogation leads. The silence within the Link after the ordeal seemed deafening. The man lay limp and unconscious in Spi’dare’s arms.

“Shall we dispose of him in an incinerator? Every building around here has one,” said Ruesh.

“Why? Did you kill him?”

“No, but he has outlived his usefulness.”

“Wyraitz ordered us not to kill anyone,” said Spi’dare.

“Correction, he told Greevez not to kill anyone.”

“It’s pointless to kill him.”

“He could become a nuisance later on.”

Spi’dare thought it more likely that Ruesh did not want to bother with the chemical that would induce amnesia and erase any memory of the last few hours.

“Whoever hired him will send someone else. We can’t make too many people disappear. Someone will start asking questions.”

“Fine.” Ruesh pulled an injector tube from his pack and dosed the man. “I’ll dispose of his firearm. You can leave him on the ground.”

“Any side effects?”

“He won’t remember a thing, but he might have night terrors or end up afraid of the dark. Physically I don’t think I did any damage.”

CHAPTER 15 - QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS

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Max looked up from his paperwork and glanced toward the captain’s office. Everyone knew the captain had spent his whole life as a cop. His father was a cop as was his grandfather and several of his uncles. The black sheep of the family became a firefighter. The captain could spot bullshit from a mile away. Today it sat across from him in an expensive suit and pressed shirt. The public voted D.A. Paul Dean Anderson into office. They believed him when he said would clean up the city, but Captain Shafer and every detective in his office knew better. The voters had saddled the city with another power-hungry fool that wanted to create more red tape and headaches for the police department.

The door to the office was wide open and every detective in earshot strained to listen to the conversation. Max did not find it hard to eavesdrop. His desk was right outside the captain’s office. Anderson was howling at the top of his lungs, going on about ‘the illegal gambling’ problem in the city. In particular, Emerald a.k.a. Gabriel Tanner. The captain sat back in his chair, looking at Max, as though he did not hear a thing.

“I want Emerald behind bars, and I don’t care what you have to do to put him there. Do I make myself clear, Captain?”

“I hear you Anderson. You don’t have to shout. I’m not deaf, but what you have to understand is that Emerald covers his tracks and covers them well. So if you want it done by the book, and in a way that won’t help a good lawyer sink our case, it will take time. Lots of time. It doesn’t help that people like him more than the police or any other racketeer. Finding someone willing to rat on him is like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“What about his ex-girlfriends?”

“They rarely know much of anything. Plus, he makes sure they don’t mind getting dumped.” Max caught the look on the captain’s face and realized he was fishing with his next comment. “It’d be easier to take down Spoleto’s operation on the west side or Hay’s north end racket.”

“A likely story. Especially when I hear that one of your own detectives is friends with Emerald.”

When the captain’s face turned red in anger, Max looked down at his desk. Morbid curiosity nailed Max to his chair.

“Carver is a clean cop and an excellent detective. Just because he grew up with the man doesn’t mean he’ll side with him.”

“I see.”

Max did not have to look at Anderson to know he was looking down his nose at the captain. Anderson did that to people he deemed beneath his station, which was just about everyone.

“Perhaps, Captain, you’ve been in this job too long. I understand that you will soon be up for retirement and a much needed rest.”

“You’re being as subtle as a brick through a window, Anderson, and I can only hazard a guess why. But, if you want the job done, I suggest you stop breathing down my men’s necks, or mine, and let us do our jobs. Now if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work. I’m sure you have more important things to do than tell me what I already know.”

Max gritted his teeth as the captain’s voice went up several decibels. Anderson pushed the wrong buttons with the captain.

The D.A. made a strategic retreat from the captain’s office. If he heard the snickered comments of the detectives in the room, he did not acknowledge them.

Max kept his head down as Anderson left. He focused on the report, annoyed at how thin it was. The name, as unusual as it was, led nowhere, as did the fingerprints he managed to acquire. The tattoo should have led somewhere, but again it was just another dead end. Miss Grim did not exist as far as the law was concerned, but Max could not believe the woman had appeared out of thin air.

“Max.” The captain’s voice startled Max. His initial reaction was to sit up straight with his hands on the desk and brace for the sting of a wooden ruler. It took a second or two for his brain to tell his muscles to relax.

“Did I startle you?” inquired his boss as he leaned over Max’s shoulder.

“What makes you think that?”

The captain scowled at Max. “You’re a good cop, Max. I don’t like Anderson messing with your career.”

“Do you think he would?”

“If he thought it would benefit him, yes.”

“I report everything that...”

The captain held up his hands stopping Max. “I know you do. I’m just telling you to be careful. Steer clear of anything related to Emerald right now.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because of her.” Max handed a photo of Miss Grim to the captain.

“Can you tell me why you are investigating Emerald’s new girlfriend?”

Max shook his head and stabbed his finger at the file on his desk. “We need to find out who she is and where she came from.”

“What for? The guy goes through women like my wife goes through clothes. She always has to have a new dress.”

“Not this one. He’ll keep this one.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“This, it’s a tattoo of an emerald.” Max took another photo out of the file and glared at it. It was a club photo. The kind couples have taken for posterity. It was a good shot of Miss Grim standing like a model posed to show the latest trends. Max’s wife caught him mulling over the file at home and told him the dress Miss Grim wore was designer. Emerald must have dropped a small fortune on her in the short time she had been with him. She had acquired several of the latest designer fashions for both day and night. In the picture, Emerald had his arm around her. His stance was possessive, as if he was trying to warn off any other possible suitors. Miss Grim looked cold, calm, and observant.

“I’ll admit she’s a looker, but he’s always managed to find those,” said the captain.

“But none has ever had a tattoo of an emerald on their cheek.”

“So?” The captain tossed the photo back on the desk.

Max sat back in his chair and explained. “For as long as I’ve known Gabby, he’s had an obsession with emeralds. Even as a kid. One time he had Dex and me stand lookout while he climbed up thirty feet to pry the emerald out of Our Lady of Sorrow’s crown. We all thought we were going to hell for that, but he promised he’d give the stone back when he didn’t need it anymore. I think it’s still missing.”

“If that’s all it took to keep him, several of those old girlfriends of his would’ve lined up to be branded. He could have had a harem.”

Max shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s something different with this one. And the timing, it’s too perfect.” He paused, knowing he was sounding crazy. Max took a deep breath and said, “Gabriel believes he’s going to get shot.”

“Of course he’s going to get shot. If he didn’t want to get shot at, he picked the wrong business. There’ve already been two attempts on his life this year. And more, we don’t know about.”

“It’s different this time. I can’t explain it. Not without sounding crazy.”

“Too late.”

Max rapped his knuckles on the photo on his desk. “Just call it a gut feeling. Whatever is going to happen, it will happen soon. And that emerald tattoo will be a major part of it.”

“Emerald tattoo?” The rookie cop walking by Max’s desk looked too young to be a cop. His chubby cheeks gave the impression of a kid playing dress-up rather than an officer of the law. “There was a guy at the pier yesterday with an emerald tattoo on his cheek.”

“At the pier? Who was he? Describe him.” Max stood up from his chair and latched onto the news. It was thread of inquiry that could turn cold and flat in a heartbeat, but Max had little else to investigate.

“I don’t know who he was. I was with my girl, and she commented on his hair. That is the only reason I remember him. It was a real hack job, shaved at the sides and long on the top and back. I think the only reason nobody messed with him about it was because he looked real mean.”

“Describe him,” said Max.

The young officer shifted his stance, stammered, and glanced at the captain. “He was about five foot ten, dark hair, and eyes. He might have been a spic, but it was hard to tell. He had a messed up face. It looked like it had been through a meat grinder. Real nasty scars. You could still see the bruises. At least I think they were bruises.”

Max picked up the phone on his desk. “We need to find out if there is anyone else in the city with that tattoo.” He pointed to the phone on the desk next to him. “Give me a hand. We need to call the other precincts and ask if anyone, and I mean anyone, has seen someone with that tattoo. We will need anything and everything they can give.”

Wide eyed, the young officer rushed to the phone and started dialing..

The captain grabbed Max’s arm gaining his attention. “Didn’t you hear me about Anderson? Stay away from anything Emerald.”

“I can’t do that. If I can’t get information about Miss Grim, then I need to track her associates.”

The captain opened his mouth to say something, but Max interrupted him. “I have to do this. I don’t care about Anderson.”

The captain scowled. “Max, don’t you think this is a little excessive?”

“I think it’s all connected. I want to know what’s going on before the bodies start rolling into the morgue.”

“You don’t have any proof.”

“Humor me. If I have to, I’ll take it up on my own.”

Both men glared at each other before the captain asked, “Are you certain there’s something going on?”

“Yes.”

“Will it bring Emerald down?”

“It may do more than that.” Max could almost see the captain’s thoughts as he debated.

“You do understand the D.A. thinks you’re in cahoots with Emerald, don’t you? If you make one mistake, just one... Well, you know what he’ll do.”

“The D.A. can go screw himself. Have I ever steered you wrong, Captain?”

The captain sighed. His scowl disappeared, replaced by exhaustion. “Three days. If you have nothing by then, we’ll chalk it up to coincidence.”

“Deal.”

***

It took two days for Max to find three other people with an emerald green tattoo on their face. The first was a tall, thin woman, pale, and blonde. She had her hair cropped shorter than any sensible woman would ever wear. Spotted in the wrong part of town, she stood out in people’s memories. A pair of hooligans tried to have some fun with her and wound up with two broken arms, a fractured wrist, and a busted knee for their troubles. She made it clear she could take care of herself. When interviewed, both young men called her a mad woman with murder in her eyes. They both thought they were dead until she stopped pounding on them. They assumed something startled her. She walked away from them as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Max wondered if either of the two men were on something at the time. One of them mentioned the woman having a tail, but when asked about it, he refused to talk.

The second was a seven foot tall black man. Most people assumed he was an undertaker with his chiseled stone features. He was well dressed in a three-piece suit and carried a briefcase. The officer that spotted him decided to bring him in for questioning. When he tried, the officer woke up on the sidewalk unharmed surrounded by a worried crowd. None of the witnesses could tell the officer much. Supposedly the cop fell into the strange man’s arms and the man laid him on the ground. Then the guy called out for help, and in the confusion he vanished. The only other thing anyone could say about the tall man was that he did not recognize his place.

The third was an average sized, shabby, sandy-haired man. He was spotted at a park where a young mother sat with her crippled son on a bench feeding the birds. The mother described him as smiling and kind hearted. He had the eyes of someone who had seen too much. She also said he looked too young to have been in the war. He had stopped to inquire after her and her son. He asked if there was something he could do for them. A few days later, the child was outside playing with his friends without his leg braces. No trace of polio was left in his system. This time Max had gotten a name, Raphael.

Armed with the name of the third person, Max stood in front of Our Lady of Sorrows. He was reluctant to walk up the wide stone steps having left the orphanage so many years ago. Max reached up and scratched his shoulder while debating the stupidity of his idea. Desperation and the thirst for the truth overcame his reluctance, both urging him to pass through the giant portal. Morning mass was long over, but a few aging women prayed the rosary. Their lips moved in silent prayer as arthritic fingers clasped the well-worn beads.

Max’s footsteps echoed through the church. He automatically knelt and crossed himself, a response drilled into him by the nuns of Our Lady of Sorrows. He made his way up the side aisle and passed through a series of doors leading to the church offices.

“Maxwell Carver, I never thought I would see you back here.” The sound of her voice doused him in fear. Max’s heart skipped a beat in remembrance of childhood, and the person everyone wanted to avoid. With slow reluctance, he turned around to greet Sister Mary Joseph. The woman he saw before him shocked Max. She had shrunk over the years. No longer was she the dark looming figure that intimidated every child in the parish. Time had not been kind to the sister. The sister’s tiny black eyes glared out of the wrinkled face in defiance of her fate.

“What brings you here, Mr. Carver?”

“I was going to speak to Father O’Brian. He is still here, isn’t he?”

“He is.” The tone of her statement bordered on disgust. Sister Mary Joseph directed him with the cane in her grasp. Her hands reduced to twisted claws. “I believe you may find him in the offices.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

Max did not want to remain in her presence any longer than necessary and hurried to the offices. He knocked on Father O’Brian’s door. The familiar cheery welcome came from inside and Max entered without hesitation. He attempted to pull out his wallet and identify himself, but there was no need. Father O’Brian recognized Max and surprised him with a warm and buoyant welcome.

“Max, how have you been? I hear you’re a police officer now.”

“Detective.”

Max could not help grinning at the now heavyset priest. What little hair he had on the top of his head was white and stuck out at odd angles.

“Really? That is wonderful. Please have a seat. Are you thirsty? Would you like something to drink?” he asked as they both settled into chairs on either side of an old and worn desk.

“No thanks. I’m surprised you remember me. It’s been a long time.”

O’Brian chuckled. “How could I forget the three of you? How could anyone forget? When was the last time you whipped up a batch of gunpowder?”

“Oh Lord, I forgot about that. How old were we?” Max smiled at the memory, but winced with an adult’s view at the possible outcome.

“Five I think. You were making fireworks and wanted to be ready for the fourth of July. You had nice ones planned too.”

“I’m surprised we didn’t blow ourselves up.”

“Gabriel wouldn’t have let you. Even at that age, he was a careful boy. I never see him, but I think he comes here from time to time.” O’Brian met Max’s curious glance with a large smile. “Once a month, there is a roll of bills in the collection basket. And every Christmas, there are toys for the children along with a few items or services the church might need.”

“Like repairs that are paid for in advance by an anonymous person?”

O’Brian chuckled. “I see you’ve experience with that as well.”

“Yes.”

Silence hung between them for a long time before Father O’Brian asked, “So what brings you here, Max?”

Max fiddled with his hat. He pulled at the edges of the brim and picked nonexistent fuzz off the top. “I think Gabby’s in trouble, and I mean bad trouble. Not the stuff he normally pulls that everybody gets riled up over.”

“What’s the difference between normal trouble and bad trouble?”

“Normal trouble is dangling a good bust in front of a bad cop's nose. The cop doesn’t find out until it’s too late, that he busted the people he was being paid to ignore. Or ripping the mask off a person who everyone thinks of as a good guy and showing the world he’s monster. Normal is taking people no one else cares about and giving them a second chance. He’s played that damn shell game all his life.”

“You’ve noticed it too.” It was a statement not a question.

“Yes, a long time ago. We’re a bunch of rats in a lab, and he’s the mad scientist watching to see what we will do. Half the time he’s bored with the results. Thank god he cares about people. I’d hate to think what would happen if he didn’t.”

“It is a rather disturbing thought.”

Max studied O’Brian and tried to form the words to the questions he wanted to ask. “Tell me about him.”

“Excuse me?” O’Brian looked back at Max in confusion.

“All I have is a child’s memory of what happened. You were an adult. Tell me everything from the first time you met him. I need to know, please.”

Max noticed something in the old priest’s eyes, an uncertainty. He pushed the issue by saying, “Gabby thinks that he’s going to die this year, Father. And I have a strange feeling he may be right unless we do something to stop it. I need your help.”

The priest gazed at his hands, then over to a cabinet on the far wall. He chewed at his lip before returning his attention to Max.

“I can’t tell you much.”

“Anything could be useful.”

O’Brian rose from his chair. “Close and lock the door.”

Max obliged. O’Brian pulled out a key on a chain from around his neck and stepped over to unlock the cupboard. Inside sat a large cedar box. O’Brian withdrew it from the cabinet and handed it to Max. “Here, set this on the desk will you?” From a different shelf he pulled a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“Do you drink? I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’ll need a glass.” He did not wait for Max’s answer but poured a glass for each of them.

Max watched in awe as O’Brian downed the glass, filled it, and sunk back in his chair.

“He was in the back of the church. I was the one who found him. There was a woman’s handkerchief on the floor still damp. It was wet really. I’d heard a strange noise and wanted to investigate. It was early morning, you see. I thought maybe a drunk had come into the church to sleep it off. They do that from time to time, you know. Gabriel was wrapped up in a blanket and quiet as a church mouse. Come to think of it, I don’t remember him ever crying. Not like a normal child. There was always a reason for it. When he grew older, there were a few outburst of frustration when something he was working on didn’t come out the way he wanted. It was always brief. But when he was a baby, he knew what you were saying. I’d swear to it. You couldn’t talk baby talk to him. He hated it. If anyone tried, he’d give them the dirtiest looks. It is disturbing to see a baby look at you as if you are a full blown idiot.”

Max was curious about the old priest’s actions. The sudden nervous ticks. The obvious need to look everywhere except at the box on the desk. The whisky bottle and the glasses caked with dust. These things meant more than his words, but he forced himself to pay close attention.

“Did you ever see the person who dropped him off?”

“I just caught a glimpse of her. At first, I thought it was an old woman the way she hunched over, but she moved too fast and was so tiny. She was no bigger than a child and was out the door and gone before I could do a thing. I think she had dark hair.”

“She? Just one lone small female?”

“Yes. Three, four feet tall at the most, and wearing a dress. It was pink with lace and ribbons if I remember correctly.”

Max’s mind swirled with the information, but his brain kept coming back to the impossible. “She was small. Do you mean she was the size of, say a, chimpanzee? Or did you see a chimpanzee in a dress?”

O’Brian’s eyes focused on the amber liquid. His lips twisted in apparent thought. “Ordinarily I’d have to say yes to your second question, but chimpanzees can’t write notes.”

“What?” Max sat up straight as O’Brian leaned forward.

“I’m not irrational, and I’m not senile. I told you what I thought I saw. I could be wrong, and I hope I’m wrong. As I said, I only glimpsed her. She left a note. It was written on a page torn from one of the hymnals. I still have it along with everything else of Gabriel’s.” O’Brian sat his glass on the desk and opened the cedar box. He withdrew the torn page, and using great care, unfolded the aging, fragile paper. Max took the note and examined it. He struggled to make out the misspelled and chaotic letters.

“‘Keep Gabriel Safe, Bad Men Kill, Father Send’.” Confused, Max looked up. “Did she mean his father was trying to kill him, that he was sending him away to keep from being killed, or that his father was killed?”

O’Brian shrugged and took another drink. “I couldn’t tell you. The only other thing is the blanket he was wrapped up in. I have no idea what it’s made of, but after thirty-five years it’s still soft to the touch.”

Max examined the cloth but found nothing unusual. “Is that everything?” Max noticed the look in the old priest’s eyes. He had seen the same expression on witnesses who were afraid and unsure of what to do.

“Father, please. It could mean Gabby’s life.”

“He used...” O’Brian hesitated. “He used to write on every piece of paper he could get a hold of. We thought they were scribbles at first. Numbers, and symbols. None of it made any sense to us. Sometimes there was a drawing. It was the drawings that made me think he wasn’t just scribbling. I recognized one of the drawings as a solar system. Our solar system. He labeled everything, even the planets, but not by the names we know. I took one of the notebooks to a university. I thought that perhaps someone there could tell me what it meant. I didn’t tell them who I was. Didn’t even wear my collar. I didn’t want anyone to figure out who I was, or that I was a priest.” O’Brian’s agitation increased the more he spoke.

“My God, you would have thought I had handed them the Holy Grail the way they acted. I didn’t understand half of what they were saying. What I did understand terrified me to no end. I got out of there as fast as I could, took the notebook, and ran. I was going to burn every book, every scrap of paper I could find, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t, so I boxed everything up, put them in a room in the basement, and locked the door.” O’Brian’s fingers worried at the second key that hung on the chain around his neck.

“What did they say?” O’Brian’s panic disturbed Max, but he had to ask. It might be the only way to help his best friend. “What made you so afraid?”

“Creation.”

“I don’t understand.”

The old priest looked straight at him. The fear and uncertainty written across his face made him look far older than his years.

“Only God has the knowledge to create worlds, doesn’t he? How is it that a three year old child knows what only God can understand?” A crawling sensation ran up Max’s spine. He was dumbfounded at the revelation.

“That’s not possible.” A large part of Max wanted to discount O’Brian’s words as from a senile old man. Max had his own childhood experiences to fall back on. What this had to do with the tattooed people, Max still had no clue.

“My definition of impossible shattered the day I found Gabriel.”

Both men sat in silence, and the father refilled each of their glasses. Max picked up the note from the desk and read it again before replacing it in the box.

“People are showing up.”

“Hmm?” The old priest looked up at Max with distracted curiosity.

“Strange people, out of place people. I’ve counted five so far. Each has an emerald tattoo on their left cheek.” Max counted them off on his fingers as he noted them. “A guy no one wants to mess with, who has a botched up haircut and a scared face. A woman, model thin, but can put two thugs in the hospital. A seven foot colored man, and I’m talking coal black, who can vanish into thin air in the middle of an all white crowd. Another woman with the eyes of a soldier named Miss Grim and a man that can cure polio named Raphael.”

“Raphael?” O’Brian sat bolt upright upon hearing the name. “The angel of healing?”

Max had not thought of that, but the priest’s insinuation did not sit well with him. He took a slug of whiskey and put the glass back on the desk. His detective’s mind balked at his own thoughts, but he forced the question past his lips. “Gabriel is the name of another angel. The messenger of God, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but we weren’t listening.”

“No, no we weren’t, but we can now.” Max shook his head.

“Yes.”

“One of those strange people is hanging around Gabby.”

“Which one?” Max could not miss the concern evident in the old priest’s voice.

“Lady Grim.”

“Grim Reaper?”

Max winced. “I didn’t want to say that out loud. I don’t remember that name being in the Bible.”

“Sorry. And no it isn’t. I believe it’s Greek in origin.”

“It’s all right. I had to face it sometime. May as well be now. So far, she’s done nothing but keep by his side. Whether that will change or not, I don’t know.”

“What will you do now?”

“Go see a zoo keeper.”

O’Brian scowled in confusion. “What for?”

“The day Gabby ran away, he was upset.”

“He had everyone speechless as I remember.”

“It was more than confronting the sister. That was just him lashing out, trying to deal with grief.”

“Grief? Over what?”

“We played hooky the day he left. We went to the zoo. Dex and I always left him with the chimps. They didn’t interest us. That day the chimp, he called her Emmy, was missing. He had a fit until someone could tell us what had happened to her. She died earlier that week. I still remember the look on his face. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. That night Dex and I followed him. He was halfway to the door when we caught up with him.” Max stopped talking and debated about whether or not to continue. He hoped he was wrong about everything. “Gabby said talking to a chimpanzee was like talking to an immigrant who didn’t speak the language. This one told him someone wanted him dead and his father would send for him one day. He made me promise if anyone ever came looking for him, I was to let him know.”

Max watched as the blood drained from O’Brian’s face. The old priest poured himself another drink, and with hands shaking, raised it to his lips. Max got up, went to the door, and unlocked it. Halfway out the office when he stopped and turned back.

“Are you going to be all right?”

The old priest’s voice was hollow as he spoke. “Are you?”

“Doubt it.”

“Same here.”

CHAPTER 16 - LISTENER

Ruesh watched as Maxwell Carver went into the building. He heard Ref’eal shift on his perch close by.

Ref’eal asked, “Do you think we should move closer?”

“No. It’s a small bug with a good range. He was a simple tag. I hit him right in the shoulder. Probably thought an insect bit him. You could have done it. Just point and shoot.”

“I’ll leave the precision firearms to the team.”

“You’re a funny one.”

Ref’eal glanced over to where Ruesh hid. “I was assigned to the medical section of my Clan. Firearms training were required but secondary to precision surgery.”

“So what did you do, to end up with us?”

“Precision surgery requires a steady hand.” Ref’eal checked the reception from the bug. There was no hint of interference. “There’s a jump in his levels suggesting high stress or fear. What’s happening?”

“The bug doesn’t have visual, and we’re both hearing the same thing. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“He’s leveling off.”

“Once a butcher, always a butcher. You’re always fussing.”

“I was a surgeon, not a medical technician.”

“I don’t see a difference.” Ruesh felt the mild shift in Ref’eal’s mood.

“You should record everything. Audio and vitals, we might miss something.”

“What for? They’re just going to confirm the information we already have.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight, Ruesh?”

“I need sustenance. My reserves are low.”

“You should have eaten before we left.”

“It wasn’t necessary. Keep a look out for civilians.” The flicker of movement that was Ruesh could be mistaken for heat coming off the brickwork or a trick of the eyes. He dropped the three stories from his perch and landed next to one of the overflowing trash bins in the alley beneath them.

“Keep to camouflage mode and I doubt anyone will notice you.”

Ref’eal monitored the transmission from the bug and watched while Ruesh scrounged for food. He moved pieces of trash from one can and tossed it into the next.

“You up for a snack, Ref’eal? The cockroaches are nice and big.”

“No thank you.”

Ref’eal heard the faint squeal of an animal. Curiosity overcame his sense of revulsion over Ruesh’s eating habits. With one step off the ramparts of the building, Ref’eal dropped to the ground. He landed next to Ruesh, who was no longer in camouflage mode.

“I thought you were eating bugs.”

“I found a rat.” Ruesh ripped the rodent apart, tearing it into small enough chunks to devour raw. The pieces he crushed between what passed for his teeth. Blood ran down his chin and he wiped it away.

Ref’eal noticed the brief tension on his face. “Are you hurt?”

“Phantom pains. The butchers called it psychological shadows because my brain keeps forgetting about the rebuild.”

“I read everyone’s files. Spi’dare survived a transport crash. For you it was one of Thut’ash Corporation’s biological weapons.”

“The lucky ones died within seconds.”

“I’m surprised your Clan didn’t terminate you.”

“They needed a lab rat. It didn’t matter if we were immobile, half eaten, in permanent agony, and praying for a termination order. All survivors went to the lab.”

Both men understood a Clan needed defense weapons against any attack. Decommissioned soldiers were not always killed.

“The others can call the Old Man a sinner or savior. It makes no difference to me. I’m mobile. That’s all I care about. I’ll put up with this place clogging my breathing filters, if it means I stay mobile. I’ll complain to the Body Shop about installing an auto clean on the pumps when we get home.”

“Then why aggravate everyone? Something is bothering you.”

“Thought you said you were a surgeon?”

“I was, but.” Ref’eal words trailed off, and the details of Ruesh’s file came to mind. “Near total rebuild.”

“Yeah, my head is all that’s left, and I only have part of that.”

“The brain needs stimulus. It can’t survive without it.”

“So?”

“You’re feeding off us.”

Ruesh looked away from Ref’eal. “Now how can I do that?”

“The defect in the Link. It leaks thoughts and emotions.” The revelation worried Ref’eal. He could not stop the twitch of his hands caused by his anxiety. “We need to tell the others. If the techs manage to fix the defect, you’re dead.”

Hearing Max mention the courier interrupted their conversation and reminded them they were supposed to be listening.

Ruesh scowled and leaned against the brick wall of the alley. “We make terrible snoops.”

“Did you record everything?”

“I said we made terrible snoops, not that we’re idiots.”

“Too bad the courier’s dead. She could have answered so many questions.”

“Emmy, I know that name.”

“Where from?”

“Let me think. She was a Bush Child,” said Ruesh.

“You mean a tribesman? I thought they were all relocated to the Isicak reservations.”

“I don’t know anything about that, but I know she was one of the Old Man’s lab rats. She volunteered for the prototype of our communal Link.”

Ref’eal shook his head in disbelief. “She would have been devoted to him. Tribesmen, for all their intelligence, are simple people. Emmy probably saw the Old Man as a parent or leader, and trusted him to keep her safe, fed, and loved.”

“They put her in a cage.” Ruesh picked up the nearest trash bin and threw it at the alley wall. “These people, here in this place they thought she was an animal, and stuck her in a cage. Have you seen what passes for a zoo in this place?”

“No, and I don’t want to. From the priest’s description, she was a Chiuka.”

“They’re prisons. She would have gone insane.”

“Ruesh, focus. She’s gone. We’re not.”

Ruesh paced the alleyway as they listened to the rest of the conversation. He stopped and burst out laughing. “Carver is smart, but some of their ideas are crazy.”

“Logic mixed with mythology. It’s not that uncommon.”

“It’s still funny.”

Ref’eal sighed. “So do we head to the zoo, or report to Wyraitz and tell him about the papers?”

“I’m not stepping foot in a prison.”

A noise distracted both men and they looked at the ground. The creature was a tiny ball of orange fur. It rubbed up against Ruesh’s leg and mewed.

“I’ve seen several of these creatures all over the city.” Ruesh picked the animal up and held it in front of his face.

Ref’eal watched the thing snuggle into Ruesh’s arms. “You’re not going to eat it are you?”

“It’s making a funny noise. Do you think we can take it back with us?”

CHAPTER 17 - PRISON CELL

Families wandered the city zoo to see the animals and have picnics. Children sprinted from one cage to another trying to get the best view of whatever animal they fancied.

It took Max thirty minutes to track down a keeper who took care of the chimp cages, and another fifteen to find one that remembered Emmy.

The gray haired man grinned in remembrance as he spoke of her. “She wasn’t like the other chimps.” He lit his pipe and puffed before scratching at his whiskered chin. “She was affectionate and always willing to give you hugs and kisses. My pipe. She liked my pipe. She’d sit there for hours watching me smoke. At night when the zoo cleared out, and it was time to clean up, I’d let her out of her cage, and she’d help. I only had to show her once or twice how to do something before she caught on. The boss man found out though, and put a stop to it right quick. I always figured that’s what killed her, being locked up in that cage with nothing to do. Poor thing. The boss man, he was afraid that she’d run off or hurt somebody. He didn’t believe me when I told him she weren’t the type. She belonged somewhere else. Not in a cage in a zoo. The circus perhaps or maybe in someone’s vaudeville act. Not in a cage where those little monsters people raise nowadays throw candy and stones at the animals. They think it’s funny. Well someone should lock them in a cage and let them see how it feels.”

“Do you remember a boy who liked to visit her by the name of Gabriel?”

The old fossil’s eyes wandered, lost in his memories. “Yes, thin kid, dark hair always sticking up every which way. He used to sit for hours with her. He’s the one who named her Emmy. I don’t remember what everyone else called her. But he insisted that her name was Emmy, so I called her that too. He used to act as if they were holding a conversation. Sometimes it looked that too. The way she’d get all animated and wave her hands around. It made me think of an Italian granny. She was a character.” The old caretaker waved his pipe in the air, simulating what he meant.

“Is there anything else you can tell me, anything at all?”

The old caretaker shook his head. “No, there’s not a lot to tell. The day they found her, she was dirty and hungry. Some fool had put a kid’s dress on her. It was some pink, frilly thing. Then there was this.” He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and searched the mass of clinking metal. His fingers touched a medallion and held it up for Max to see.

“St. Christopher Medal, I think. It’s hard to tell with it being so worn. It was around her neck. It should’ve been St. Francis. He’s the patron saint of animals. St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers.”

Max looked at the well-worn medallion with its green and gold trim. “May I?” He held out his hand.

The caretaker removed it from the chain and handed it to Max. “I guess so.”

The medallion resembled a St. Christopher Medal, but Max could tell it was not. Discrepancies in the image were recognizable for someone who grew up Catholic. Max recognized a few of the letters as the same from the note he left in Father O’Brian’s possession. The shallow writing along the edges could be mistaken for a design by anyone who had never seen the note.

“May I keep this?”

The caretaker chewed his lip before answering. “I guess so. It’s not as if I have any family to leave stuff to. You’ll take good care of it, won’t you?”

“Yes sir, I will.”

CHAPTER 18 - TAILOR’S NEEDLE

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Emerald stood motionless while Mr. McKay checked his measurements. He listened as the wizened little tailor hummed and huffed with each movement. Racks of suits in various stages of completion lined the walls while supplies and material cluttered the top of every surface. Grym sat in one of the few chairs in the small shop. She observed everything, but said nothing.

“Perchance the lady prefers a particular color or material?” They were the first words McKay spoke to Grym. McKay never glanced up from his clipboard. Grym looked from McKay to Emerald and back again unsure what to do or say. McKay grabbed a group of swatches hanging from a hook on the wall and dropped them in her lap. Grym debated about asking a question, but the little man disappeared through a drapery-cloaked archway.

“I think he likes you.” Emerald smiled at Grym. He knelt in front of her, took a strip of cloth, and threw it over his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I guess it is fine if you approve of it.”

“I’m asking if you approve of it.”

“I’m not good at picking out materials. I’m not sure if I could pick out the right things.” Grym still did not understand the nuances of fashion no matter how many outfits she copied.

“You can pick out beautiful dresses. Why not the material for a man’s suit?”

“I try to blend in.”

“You could never do that.”

Grym felt a sudden panic take hold with the realization that she had made a mistake.

Emerald grasped her hands and looked into her eyes. “That’s a good thing. It makes every woman jealous of you and every man envious of me. So come on, pick out something.”

She took a deep breath, hoping to calm her nerves. The fabric felt soft beneath her fingers. Grym peeled the top layer off looking at the pattern beneath the first. Emerald would have looked nice in almost any of the fabrics, but subtle changes in dress could mean different things. Certain jackets were worn at different clubs or occasions, but Grym had yet to figure out why. Though she figured choosing a fabric might not be a traumatic occurrence, her training demanded she get it right.

“What if I pick something you have?”

“I’ll have two suits then.”

“That’s pointless. Will you be honest if I get it wrong?”

“Deal.”

“I’ve always liked the lines, but it might make you look too thin.” Grym placed the piece of cloth over his shoulder and ran her finger along the design. She placed a solid color on top of the lined cloth. “This one matches your eyes. Do you have a gray suit?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. Should we try it?”

“If you are convinced you should.”

“I’m positive.”

McKay came back into the room while they were talking. Although discreet in his mannerisms, Grym was sure the man had listened to their conversation. Her assumption proved correct when he approached them. “Have we made any decisions?”

Emerald handed the swatches back to McKay. “The dark gray. And just for the heck of it, let’s try the pinstripe.”

“Fine choices sir, if I do say so myself.” McKay’s sharp nod turned into a slight bow. “I should have both suits ready for a fitting next week?”

“That will be fine.” Emerald stood up and put back on his old jacket. “We will see you in a week then.”

Emerald held the door open for Grym as they walked out of the shop. “Stop worrying. They were good choices.”

“You’re not saying that just to be nice are you?”

He chuckled and said, “You got McKay to smile. I’d say that was a miracle.”

Gus and Louis waited for them outside by the car. Gus opened the car door at their approach. Louis kept watch. Grym caught the slight widening of his eyes, and turned in time to see two men charge out of an alley, guns drawn. She shoved Emerald toward the open car door and slipped a knife from its hidden sheath. A quick twist with an underhanded throw sent the projectile on its way. Grym climbed into the car and clung to Emerald, using her body as a shield. She heard the sound of Louis’ gun fire. The fear in Louis’ voice was unmistakable. “Get in the car, Gus. Let’s go.”

The car shifted from the weight of the two men as they scrambled into the vehicle. She heard the roar of the engine, but Grym did not move her position until she felt the vehicle move forward. She straightened allowing Emerald to sit up in the seat.

He glanced out the back window at the diminishing scene. “Shouldn’t I have been protecting you?”

“They weren’t after me. They were after you.”

“True, but you could have been hurt.”

“I was not.”

Grym could not identify Emerald’s expression. It changed when he turned his attention to the front seat. “Did you recognize the shooter?”

“Shooters, Boss,” said Louis. “There were two of them. And yes, they’re from the west side.”

“Two? I only heard one shot.”

“That’s because Miss Grim got the first one with a knife. I couldn’t tell you who was more surprised, him, or me.”

Emerald looked back at Grym. She saw the surprise, along with his anger. The incident should never have happened. Lifelong training kept her from revealing her anxiety and anger. She wanted to explain, but the situation was still too muddled. Frustration forced her gaze to the window and out at the street beyond the car.

“Greevez, what went wrong? Where were you?”

“I didn’t see them.”

“How could you not? What’s the matter with you? He could have died.”

“So be it.”

“Greevez, he is our assignment. Have you lost your honor along with your mind?”

“Why should we care for his kind? We are Clan.”

“We are nothing, or do you forget the Old Man owns us? We forfeit our termination orders. We are less than nothing.”

Words ceased to flow through the Link. Instead, an emotional cocktail of anger, spite, and jealousy flooded the expanse.

Grym retaliated with raw facts. “The Old Man needs him alive and in one piece. I don’t know why, and I don’t care why, but if I have to die so that he lives, so be it.”

CHAPTER 19 - MESS IN AISLE THREE

Max made a mental note to call his wife and tell her he’d be late for dinner. He checked his pockets for change for the pay phone while looking back at the mess in front of the tailor’s shop. Uniformed officers kept the gawkers and the press at bay but not at the distance Max preferred. He recognized the victims as men from the west side of town. Both were experienced shooters. The first man lay with a single shot to the head from a large caliber bullet. It was at close range judging from the brain matter on the pavement. The second man was another story. Dead eyes stared into nothingness. The disturbing look of shock still frozen on his face. Blood ran everywhere from the hole in his neck. The black handle of the knife protruded from the wound.

Max closed his eyes against the burn of the flashbulbs as he waited for the bodies to be photographed. When they were done, he leaned over the corpse to grasp the knife. It came out with amazing ease, slicing back through the flesh that held it. Three blades protruded out of the single handle. The first and the third held a forty-five degree angle from the second. Max took his time in examining the strange weapon. He realized the two side blades folded into the center forming a single blade. Light and balanced for throwing, the wicked blades were as black as the handle. Whoever made the knife had rigged it to open on impact. Max grimaced and rubbed his hand on his neck. Decapitations had always unnerved him.

“That’s one wicked little blade.”

Max cleared his throat and glared at his partner. “I’ll say. Do we have any witnesses?”

Ted Adams glared back at Max. He pointed to the front door of the tailor’s shop. “A man and a woman came out of that shop. Two drivers were waiting for them with a car when the victims tried taking them by surprise. One driver must have seen what was coming because he was the only one that managed to get a shot off killing the first victim.”

“And the knife?”

“Everyone swears it was the woman who threw it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. And they piled into the car and drove off.”

“Any idea where?”

“The tailor is still inside waiting to be interviewed. He’s beside himself. The way he is acting you’d swear he was the one they shot at.”

“Wonderful.” Max stuck a toothpick in his mouth and questioned why he quit smoking. If he ever needed a cigarette, it was now.

They found the little tailor sitting in a chair, fanning himself with a folded newspaper in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

Ted signaled for Max to take the lead. “You’re the owner?”

“Yes, Mr. Phillip McKay. And you are?”

“Detectives Carver and Adams. The two people who were shot at, they were seen coming out of your store.”

Mr. McKay stiffened and stopped fluttering the fan. “I run a respectable business.”

“Yes, you do Sir, but it looks as if someone doesn’t care for one of your customers.”

“Mr. Emerald is a good man. A good customer. And Miss Grim is a very sweet lady. She has superb tastes. She picked the pinstripe and the dark gray for his new suits. Both are wonderful choices.”

Max stepped back and let his partner handle the rest of the questions. He did not think he could continue the interview without yelling in frustration. Emerald could have told him it was a turf war, but he wanted Max to stay out of it. Max did not want to think about why. He had wanted to strangle his best friend since childhood. Max wanted to tell him that he was a selfish fool. Whoever hired the two west siders did not care for subtlety or they knew being subtle was a high stakes game with the odds stacked against them. Killing Emerald would be an easy way to get his business. Although Max doubted they’d be able to keep it.

Emerald had an annoying habit of gift wrapping troublesome rivals and handing them over to the police. This rival did not want to take that risk. Where Miss Grim fit in, Max still could not fathom. Whatever the woman was up to, she needed Emerald alive for the time being.

CHAPTER 20 - HUNGRY TIGER

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Gus and Louis sat twenty feet away at the bar nursing their beers. They were alert and observant. Grym remained silent at the table. The queasy feeling in her stomach distracted her from studying Emerald. She needed to understand his reactions. Emerald was a man used to having total control.

He tapped his cigarette case on the table in an arrhythmic beat. An unlit cigarette held in his fingers. “Do you always carry a blade?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Grym pressed her nails into her palm in an attempt to keep the amusement she felt from her expression. A Clan member carrying a weapon was comparable to a civilian wearing a piece of jewelry. “I don’t understand?”

“Why do you always carry a blade? Why did you use it today?”

“It was less painful than stepping in front of a bullet.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The anger in his eyes informed Grym the answer she gave was insufficient. Tactics combined with logic provided her few options when talking to Emerald. “Should I have not killed him?”

“You shouldn’t have to kill anyone. That’s why I have bodyguards.”

“They are good bodyguards. I’m better.”

Emerald’s eyes were unreadable, and he stopped tapping the case on the table.

“I know about Walker. I didn’t want to believe you killed him. I still don’t want to believe it. I’ve been over every inch of you. I’ve never seen a hint of a blade, but today one appears out of nowhere?”

Grym’s mind latched onto his words and questioned if this was her mistake. “Is that what’s bothering you? Where do I hide them? That I can protect myself?” Something Sylvia said to her flitted on the edge of memory. “Can’t a woman have a little mystery?”

“In your case it’s a ton of mystery.”

“I intrigued you before. Why would killing someone change that?”

“I don’t care for the idea of waking up dead because I trusted the wrong person.”

If he had hit her, she would have felt less pain. Gyrm wanting to protect him, she needed to protect him. With it came the realization that if she were told to do otherwise she did not think she could complete the order. “I will never intentionally hurt you, Emerald. I don’t know how to make you believe that.”

“Then answer the question. Why the blades? Why the need for protection? What happened? I want to know everything.”

The answer to his questions were tattooed on her face. She turned so he could see the painted gem, not understanding how else to explain. By Wyraitz’s order, she was to blend in until the last minute. Greevez’s tantrum after not dealing with the shooters combined with her mistakes opened the floodgates to questions. Talking about her life before the Sav’ine was a simple, if painful, route in which to divert his attention. Grym clenched her jaw and ground her teeth. With eyes closed, she willed her hands to keep from shaking while swallowing her pride, shame, and fear. The person she was, died in a massacre but refused to stop haunting her. “Have you ever heard of a place called Fa’ya Zou?”

“No.”

“It’s a shit hole in the middle of a dung heap in the heart of nowhere.”

She heard the clatter of Emerald’s cigarette case hitting the table and assumed he dropped it. Grym’s fingers itched to hold one of her weapons. Her rifle lay hidden, locked in a suitcase under the bed at the apartment, but she wore plenty of armament. Fear combined with the uncertainty of using a blade on herself kept her hands splayed palm down on the table. “There were forty of us, not including the villagers. We were supposed to be out of there within a few days. Somebody screwed up. There was a revolution going on, and someone mixed up Fa’ya Zou with Fa’da Y’oi. So nobody came.”

“Why were you there?”

Grym heard a softness in Emerald’s voice. She opened her eyes but refused to look at him. Grym chose her words with care. “We were helping. There was a refugee station set up near the edge of the fighting. We were bringing in medical supplies and doing what we could. Basic treatment for the sick and injured. By the time someone realized what had happened, it was too late...”

The nausea hit her like a ton of bricks. Hand over her mouth, she bolted for the ladies’ room and made it to the sink. Grym did not cry until the dry heaves hit. Forty Yaz’ki Clan soldiers had gone into Fa’ya Zou. Only three came out.

They were half starved, the three of them, Greevez, Grym’ska and H’zoul. When the retrieval ship found them, they were filthy and covered in blood. Most of the blood was not their own. She still remembered the comments and the whispered innuendos when they arrived back at the Clan stronghold. If it had not been for Wyraitz, both she and Greevez would have ended their lives as H’zoul had. Grym heard they found him spattered over the living quarters. H’zoul had used a grenade. Wyraitz took Grym and Greevez away from the Yaz’ki Clan, and those who abandoned them. The Old Man gave them a new purpose and helped them cope with their situation the best he could. He gave her and Greevez a place within the Sav’ine, their second chance.

Grym felt Emerald’s arms around her waist and felt him brush back her hair. When she heard water running from the tap, Grym opened her eyes, but she could still see the past and the bloodshed it contained. Greevez and H’zoul suffered a fate far worse than Grym. Someone mistook Grym for dead and tossed her into the pit. The memory of waking up next to the dead stayed with her. Insects crawled over her body and in her mouth, choking her. Blood matted her hair. The stinking bloat from bodies left to rot in the beating sun with their sightless eyes was forever seared into her memory. She remembered the weight of the sickle in her hand, as that night the retaliation started, and the dead rose.

***

Grym lay on the settee with her eyes closed, yet wide awake. When she had finished in the bathroom, Emerald had insisted she lie down and rest. She listened as Emerald discussed the latest attempt on his life. Someone named Spoleto wanted Emerald’s business.

Gus and Louis had their own ideas of how to resolve the situation, but Emerald was reluctant to carry out their suggestions. The possibilities were tabled for a later discussion, and the men left, leaving Emerald and Grym alone. He sat on the edge of the settee with one arm braced on the back. With his free hand, he brushed back a stray lock of hair from her face.

“You’ve been listening instead of resting.”

“I can do both.” Grym opened her eyes and looked up at him. Worry had replaced his anger. A brief lapse of her own mind made Grym question if any of that worry was for her. A part of Grym wanted to leave and return to what she was accustomed to, away from this strange place where things were unfamiliar and crude. Whereas a small part of her wanted to stay, and forget her past, along with its pain. The emotional upheavals wreaked havoc on her judgment. Interference still hindered the Sav’ine’s ability to remain in complete contact. Grym admitted she was losing focus, so she questioned the things she did.

Emerald smiled, and his worry changed to mischief. “Why don’t we go somewhere? Some place away from the clubs. Some place different.”

“Where?”

“Good question. We could go to the pier and get some fresh air. It’d be good to get away from the smoke of the club. There is the zoo. I used to love going to the zoo when I was a kid. When I wasn’t at the library, I was at the zoo. There’s a museum that has a few interesting exhibits.”

“Let me guess, emeralds?” said Grym.

“Art, but I’m sure one of the galleries has a jewelry exhibit. Where did you wish to go?”

“Will that be wise after what happened today? Shouldn’t you be lying low?”

“I’m not going to let Spoleto spoil my fun, and you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Keep them guessing, show them you’re not afraid?”

Emerald scowled at her. “Smart cookie.”

“You’ll still need to take precautions.”

“A smart cookie with a one track mind.”

“Put yourself in his shoes. How much does he want you gone? Would it be safer in a crowd? One attempt was in your office. The other was on the street, but there were few people around. Will he hire someone who isn’t so careful of innocent civilians?”

“All right, all right, enough.” Emerald held up his hands in surrender. “Will you let me worry about Spoleto?”

“But...”

He drew her up into his arms. “I don’t want to hear another word. I told you I’ll take care of it. Now what I want to find out is how are you feeling? Do you feel any better?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“What is it?”

Grym realized she was frowning and shook her head. “Nothing, I just feel, how do you say, under the weather? I will be fine. You mentioned the pier. Perhaps you are right. Maybe I need sun and fresh air. But I won’t get it unless you promise not to smoke like a chimney.”

“Smoke like a...? I don’t smoke that much.”

“You smoke enough. Try counting how many you go through.”

“I might just do that.”

***

Emerald did not want to leave the office. He wanted to leave the world outside, but he promised her an outing. Ag’dia would want to change clothes. When they came out of the room, he cursed himself for waiting too long. Two uniformed officers waited for them along with D.A. Anderson.

“What are you doing here, Anderson? We’re not even open for business yet.”

“We have a few questions we want answered. I suggest we do so at the station.”

Emerald straightened his jacket and adjusted his tie to avoid slugging Anderson. “Gus, can you take Miss Grim home?”

“I don’t think so.” Anderson’s smile widened. “We have witnesses that put you two, as well as your bodyguards, in the middle of a shooting. We’ll need everyone to come into the station.”

“Aren’t you being excessive? The lady had a rough day.”

“It’s going to get rougher. Now shall we go or do you require handcuffs?”

“You mind if I call my lawyer from here?”

“It can wait until we get to the station.”

Emerald’s foul mood continued until they reached the station. It got worse when they separated everyone. Emerald refused to talk until his lawyer was present. He knew the boys would not say a thing. They knew the drill. He was not so sure regarding Ag’dia. He could not decide if he was more concerned with her talking, or the uncertainty of what Anderson had in mind for her. Emerald stared at the plain gray walls. There was nothing in the room besides a battered old table and two chairs. A uniformed cop stayed with him in the room. The officer tipped his chair back on two legs so it creaked with every slight movement.

When Max stepped into the room, it took every ounce of Emerald’s willpower to stay in his seat. The urge to jump up and grab Max by his lapels, and demand answers was great.

“Sorry about this, Gabby.”

“Anderson jumped the gun. Again. The man’s an idiot.”

Max scowled at the officer in the chair and motioned him to get out of it. With a thud of the legs hitting the floor the cop vacated his seat. Max grabbed the chair and placed it opposite Emerald at the table. “We didn’t even get the bodies to the morgue. He heard your name and assumed the worst. Your lawyer is giving him an ear full now.”

“Good, when can we get out of here? I’ve got a business to run, and he’s put me behind schedule.”

“What happened today, Gabby?”

“What do you think happened?”

“I think Spoleto is trying to muscle in on your business, and he wants to make it permanent. What I don’t get is Miss Grim.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have witnesses that swear she threw the knife that took out the first hired gun.”

Max set the strange black knife from the scene of the crime on the table in a way that made the blades separate. “She almost decapitated him with this wicked little thing. No one’s ever seen anything like it.”

“It’s just a ru’quene.”

“How do you know that?” Max frowned, but Emerald felt confusion. Images flashed through his mind without words or context. A jumbled mass that slipped out of reach the moment he tried to grasp them.

“I don’t remember. Where’s my lawyer? I want to get out of here.”

“Stop avoiding the questions. Who is she, Gabby? Where does she come from?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Damn it, Gabby. Because I’m worried. Nobody knows a damn thing about this woman, yet she’s glued to you. Why?”

“You told me to try the smart ones.”

“Yes, I said smart. I didn’t say hard as nails.”

They glared at each other in the silent room. Emerald knew he was not thinking straight and that what he said aggravated Max. He forced his body to relax and tried to clear his mind.

“How is she, Max?”

“Anderson figured she was a weak link. He’s got Hue and Collins interviewing her.”

Emerald’s heart stopped when he heard the names. “Those two, they’re not detectives. They’re animals.”

Max held up his hands. “Calm down, Gabby.”

“I will not calm down. Get those two away from her before they kill her!”

“She’s more likely to kill them.”

Emerald blinked, not only at Max’s words but at his tone. “What are you saying?”

“She practically laughed in their faces, Gabby. I have seen those two break a few hard customers, and she acted as if they were nothing more than a couple of yappy toy poodles. Damn it, Gabby, listen to me, I don’t give a damn about Spoleto. We know how to deal with him, but her? How the hell do you know someone didn’t send her to kill you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was in the interview room.” Max’s frown deepened. “Normal people tend to be fidgety in a police station. Criminals, not so much. But a person still flinches when someone gets in their face or pounds on the table they’re sitting at. With her, no reaction. I’m not one to let things get to me. You know that. But standing in that room...I wanted out. Not because of Hue or Collins, because of her. There’s something about her, Gabby. Hue and Collins won’t admit it, but I think they feel the same. She’s a dangerous predator they don’t know how to handle.”

“She’d never harm me.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Emerald believed them. He did not understand what it was that made him put his trust in her beyond reason.

“Do you really believe that, Gabby?”

“Yes.”

Emerald’s lawyer burst into the room cutting off any more conversation.

“Don’t say another word. This whole thing is a right cockup. Mr. Emerald if you would please, come with me.”

Both Emerald and Max rose from their chairs.

Max said, “He’s all yours.”

“I should think so. How dare the police arrest the victims of a crime instead of the perpetrators.”

“I was just following orders from the D.A.”

“The newspapers will have a field day.”

Max and Emerald smiled at the lawyer. The man was shrewd, and he understood where to dig the knife in to make his opponents squirm.

“I’ll get the others,” said Max.

“Please do.”

Max left the room along with the uniformed officer. Emerald followed his lawyer.

“Should we use the front door, or the back?”

“Anderson arrested you, the victim. Do you wish for him to get away with it?”

“No, but what kind of trouble should I expect?”

“No more than normal I should think.”

“The front door it is.”

Emerald waited in the hall for the others. When he saw Ag’dia the bands of fear, which constricted his chest eased. They waded through the throng of reporters to their car. Emerald let his lawyer do the talking.

It was not until they had pulled away from the curb and far away from the police station that both Gus and Louis started laughing.

“The papers will have the D.A. in the hot seat tomorrow.”

“The man is really making a name for himself, and it’s Incompetence.”

“That comment you made, Miss Grim, was a real gem.” Louis held an imaginary pad of paper and pencil in his hands mimicking the reporter in question. “I hear they had you in interrogation, Miss? How would you describe your ordeal? Was it bad?”

Gus mimicked Ag’dia’s part. “Interrogation? Is that what they were trying to do? I found them amusing.” Another burst of laughter rang through the car from the two men.

Emerald ignored them, concerned about Ag’dia. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Why? It was not your fault. From what I understand, it is this Anderson person. Why does he hate you so?”

“He’s after political power, and he thinks that putting me in jail will give him what he wants.”

“But you’re not going to let him do that.”

“No, no I’m not going to let him do that.” Emerald clasped her hand in his. They rode in relative silence as outside the car, the usual hustle and bustle of the city continued on. Emerald glanced over at Ag’dia. She was staring out of the passenger window as she always did, taking in her surroundings. A brief flash of imagery came to him, a pair of matte black, death head masks and the phrase, “Daddy has two new toys to play with.” “Sav’ine” was another word that stuck in his thoughts. He recognized it as a name of a monster from distant mythology, but he could not remember the story. Chimera was the closest thing he could come up with that was parallel in nature. Similar to the mythological beast, the Sav’ine were made up of different species. Unlike the creature, the Sav’ine had human intelligence and stood guard over something. What that something was, he could not remember. A treasure he supposed. Most mythological stories mentioned treasures. Emerald had a nagging feeling that what the Sav’ine guarded was far more important.

“Is something wrong?” Ag’dia’s voice shook away his ghosts. “You had a strange look on your face. You were somewhere else.”

Emerald tried to smile at her as he pulled her to him, tucking her head under his chin. “I was just thinking, trying to remember something, but it’s not important.” He thought of Max’s comment to him earlier. He knew Max was right. Ag’dia could kill him with no one being the wiser. Emerald also realized that the Sav’ine guarded their charges to the death and sometimes beyond the grave.

CHAPTER 21 - ODD BEHAVIOR

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Sunlight bounced off the waves as a cool breeze swept the pier. Several children hung over the wooden railing with their makeshift fishing rods hoping to catch a bite. Couples strolled along the boardwalk or in and out of various shops. Many people sat at tables outside on the porches of quaint restaurants or stands. The smell of cotton candy and popcorn wafted on the breeze to disperse on the wind.

“How soon can we leave?” Grym asked.

The resulting conversation with Phalcon came in a rapid-fire succession.

“Spi’dare is working at it. The calculations have to be precise.”

“I know. I guess I’m just jumpy.”

“Everyone is. None of us cares for this place. Spi’dare was in a rage when he realized we missed another jump.”

“Tell him to be calm. I want to get home in one piece. Not in the right time on the wrong world.”

“What if he gets the right world but the wrong time?”

Grym was not sure if Phalcon was trying to make a joke or not. “Weren’t you awake for the paradox lectures? We can go forward but never back. If he screws up, we’ll be lucky to end up as space dust.”

“Tell me again why we agreed to do this?”

“Life, honor, peace, and in your case, the blue-eyed blonde you were staring at. Did she have a big enough rack?”

“It was the nice legs I noticed first.” Grym caught Phalcon’s moment of thought before he asked her, “She had blue eyes?”

“Too bad the body shop can’t fix your color blindness. Yes, she had blue eyes, and it was obvious what was going through your mind.”

“I made her nervous.”

“I think being in the same room with our squad was enough.”

Grym felt his questions as if it were a physical thing and knew she needed to answer them.

“Ask your questions, Phalcon.”

“When Wyraitz said that this person was a dead ringer for Ge’berle, I didn’t believe it until I saw it for myself. Is he as smart as Ge’berle?”

“It’s almost as if they are the same person, and yet they are different. He looks identical to Ge’berle. Sometimes he acts similar, but it’s not Ge’berle, and yes, Emerald is smart,” said Grym.

“So what’s with the secrecy? Spi’dare could use the spare brain.”

“Do you want to waste time chasing him if he runs? I don’t.”

“With someone trying to kill him and the authorities wanting him locked up, you’d think that he’d welcome our help.”

“What about the consequences? For all we know he may not want to leave here. The person trying to kill him is a man named Spoleto. He runs a few gaming halls on the west side of town. He wants Emerald’s business. It sounds like one big pissing contest, but unlike Emerald, Spoleto is willing to kill for it. The incident the other day was too close for comfort.”

Grym could hear Phalcon’s whispered thoughts. His mind jumped onto a new line of questions before he said, “I hear that you ripped on Greevez. She’s been sulking ever since. Wyraitz does not want to take any more chances. We will be close by from now on, and he has ordered a count of the players. It’s been a chore keeping them straight. Ruesh has been monitoring the broadcasts. Maybe he’s heard something new, though the way he tells it this is one ass backwards place.”

“Brain in the Box would complain no matter what. This place can be annoying, but at least we are not in an age with no technology.”

“Brain in the Box? That’s a nasty reference, Grym. Should I discount it as nerves? I can understand his concern.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think, Grym, how long do you suppose Ruesh and Spi’dare can survive in this place? The rest of us are better able to physically handle a long stretch. Mentally and emotionally is another story. How are you holding up, Grym?”

“You’re showing concern. That isn’t you, Phalcon. I’m holding up just fine. To play bodyguard without making it obvious is difficult even without Greevez’s screw-ups, but I’m managing it.” Although Grym did not mean to lash out at Phalcon, her emotions shot over the Link and struck him hard enough to make him mentally flinch.

“That’s what I was talking about, Grym. This isn’t you. You don’t lash out at any of us, especially Greevez. You have always been the calm one, rock steady, even in the midst of chaos. Something has changed, and we can sense it. You’ve always been closed-lipped, but we know you have been living in the guy’s pocket. The others are worried. Even Wyraitz, though he tries not to show it.”

“I’ll live, whatever the consequences.”

“Are you so sure?”

“I’m taking one day at a time. That’s all any of us have at this point.”

“That’s a funny answer,” said Phalcon.

“Is there anything else?”

“You’re being shadowed as well as me.”

“Which camp is it?”

“The authorities, two men in suits.”

“Detective Carver is persistent.”

“He is, and he knows of us. He’s here wondering what I’m up to at the moment.” A touch of amusement permeated Phalcon’s words.

“Is he causing any problems?”

“No, not at all, he and the rest are easy enough to spot and evade. I don’t think any of us have broken any laws. Nothing intentional anyway.”

“Good. Keep me posted on how soon Spi’dare will be ready. It may take some fast talking to get him to go with us.”

“We have tranquilizers just in case.”

“I don’t care for that idea,” said Grym.

“Neither do I, but we have our orders. By the way, Spi’dare thinks that there might be a message attached to the beacon. That might account for its weakness if it has been stuck in the guy for thirty-five years. That would take its toll even on a biochip using the body as a battery. He said that he’d have to get it out of Emerald to be sure,” said Phalcon.

“He’ll have to scan Emerald to see where it is. I wouldn’t know where to look. Tell Wyraitz that if he wants to get rid of Spoleto, he can make it look like a contract kill. His own car can be used to do the job. Just wire the ignition into a homemade bomb. The vehicles here are devoid of electronics. If Ja’kil doesn’t want to be imaginative, just tag a spider to the gas tank.”

“You’re getting vicious, Grym.”

“Cranky and irritable, isn’t that what Spi’dare said? The more I think of it, the more Spoleto angers me.”

“Take a breath, Grym. You are being irrational. I can almost taste your emotions. You’re ordinarily a blank slate. We will think of something. We need to keep Emerald alive. Keep your ears pure and we will let you know. So far the only people interested in you around here are the police.”

***

Max sat in the car with a pair of binoculars, watching the figure on the hill. His partner sat beside him in the car cracking peanuts and tossing the shells out of the driver’s side window. Ted asked, “What is he doing?”

“He’s just standing there staring off in the distance. It looks as if he’s staring at the pier.” Max set the binoculars on the dashboard.

“Why? It’s not as if he can see a thing at this distance.”

“It’s still a nice view.”

Ted shifted in his seat and cracked another peanut shell.

Earlier in the day the information came in of another person with an emerald tattoo. Max and Ted had hightailed it to the long stretch of road where the sighting took place. The man in question had walked out in front of a moving police car. It scared the rookie cop behind the wheel and caused him to slam on the brakes. The man did not give the kid enough time to compose himself. He walked up to the driver’s side window and told him he was to inform Detective Carver of his presence at the cliff. The rookie, still rattled by the meeting, notified headquarters the first chance he had. He told everyone that the guy, ‘just didn’t look right’.

Max was relieved that he saw the man. They were in such a hurry, Ted almost passed by him. The pair sat waiting in the car for twenty minutes. The man never moved. Max was getting impatient for something to happen. Balding and dressed in a black trench coat, the man could have been a statue.

Frustrated, Max grabbed for the car door. “Stay in the car. I’m going to talk to him.”

“You sure that’s wise?”

“No, but I’m doing it anyway.”

Max let the car door slam shut as he got out. He trudged through bushes they had parked in for partial cover. Once on the road, he double-timed it toward the man. Other than a quick glance in Max’s direction, the man did not acknowledge his approach. Max had not realized where he was standing. Not until he got up beside him. Max looked down the steep grade of the hill. The sense of vertigo had him stepping back. One wrong step would send him plummeting down the rocky slope with only a few brambles and a speckle of small trees to stop the fall.

“Do heights bother you, Detective?” The man’s voice sounded similar to grinding metal reverberating from a great depth. “I’ve always found them exhilarating. There’s nothing more thrilling than gazing at the earth with nothing but the sound of the wind in your ears.”

“You mind stepping back a few feet so I can talk to you?”

“Just a few minutes more if you please.”

“Are you waiting for something or someone?”

“Yes and no, but it is you who are expecting something.”

Max thought he heard a touch of humor in the man’s voice.

“Why do you say that?” Max tried to position himself for a better look at the man. The trench coat was unbuttoned so that the wind caught it and sent it billowing. Underneath the coat, the man wore all black. His shirt and pants were solid, but the boots had strange spinning silver ornamentation. On closer inspection, the man was more than just balding. Other than the long mustache that hung passed his chin, he was without hair. He was swarthy in his coloring, and what Max had thought had been hair, was intricate black swirling lines that ran around the sides and back of his head. The impression that the tattoos covered burns came to Max’s mind. Similar to his face, even the man’s hands, were abnormal in their smoothness.

“What is it you want from us, Detective Carver?”

“You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

The man gave a rumbling chuckle and turned toward Max. “They call me Phalcon.”

From the side, the man looked odd, but viewing him straight on was creepy. It was his eyes. They were not human. Golden irises speckled with silver rimmed the large black pupils. Max swore he could see his own reflection in the eerie eyes if not for an odd flicker of inner light. The man never blinked. A small part of Max wanted to run, but his curiosity had him rooted to the ground in fascination.

“Falcon is an interesting name.” Max tried waiting for a response. Falcon had more patience, and Max broke the silence. “So, what are you doing up here?”

“Watching, listening, and waiting for you.”

It aggravated Max not knowing who these people were. He was unused to being under a microscope.

“So I’m here.”

“Yes you are.” Falcon’s face remained unmoving.

Max understood what the man was doing. He used the same tactics in his own job every day. “Who are you people? What are you doing here?”

“We are passing through. Who we are, is of no importance. You may as well waste your energy trying to catch the wind.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“That is because you are a suspicious man.”

Max thought the stranger might have smiled but could not say for sure. With a face as bizarre as Falcon’s, it was hard to tell.

“Damn right I’m suspicious. A bunch of strangers pop up in my city, I want to know what they are up to.”

“We are not the only strangers in this city.”

“The weirdest by far. I want to know why one of you is hanging around Gabby. You’ll know him as Emerald.”

“Ah, there it is, you are very protective of your friend.”

This time the man smiled. Max took an unconscious step back. He thought the smile looked worse than not.

“I’ve known Gabby since we were kids and even then he did his own thing. He never conformed to other people’s expectations. In fact, he could run rings around anybody before they ever knew that there was a race. He’s always skated on the edge of trouble. And you and your buddies are trouble. Especially that lady Grim, but I’m not sure if he even sees it.” Max wanted to kick himself for saying so much, but the cold stone aura surrounding the man unnerved him.

“We would wish no harm to come to him, detective. Please put your mind at rest, at least where we are concerned. From what we understand, there are others who bear ill wishes toward him.”

“Yes and they’ll be dealt with.”

“She’ll protect him.” Falcon’s statement was unexpected and caught Max off guard.

“What?”

“Perhaps the question is who will protect her?” Falcon turned and walked away.

Max tried to follow, but as soon as the man entered the trees on the far side of the road, he faded into them. Frustrated with the situation, Max trudged back to the road. He waved for his partner to come pick him up. More aggravated than he was before, Max dropped into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“I guess it didn’t go well?”

“He admitted Miss Grim was one of them, but he wouldn’t say who or what they were up to.”

“Maybe it’s nothing?”

“I doubt it,” said Max.

“And?”

“The rookie was right. There is something wrong with that guy. Aside from him not blinking. He can disappear in front of your eyes.”

“Oh really?”

Max glared at his partner. Ted shrugged, put the car in gear, and drove back to the precinct. The questions Max was hoping to find solutions to were left unanswered, and more were added to his list. Falcon was worried about Miss Grim. Why?

CHAPTER 22 - REMEMBER

“You’re thinking intensely.”

The sound of Emerald’s voice startled Grym. “What?”

The wind off the water whipped at strands of her hair. She tried in vain to brush the escaping tendrils back into place.

“You have been staring off over the water clenching and unclenching your jaw. That is a good way to break a tooth. Would you care for some cotton candy?” He offered her a piece of the pink, fluffy cloud.

“Pure sugar, so you will have me get cavities instead.” She ate the sticky substance and licked her fingers enjoying its sweetness. “I’m enjoying this place. I am glad we came. Between staying up every night at the club and you keeping me distracted most of the day, I don’t remember when I last saw the sun.”

“Me, distracting you?” Emerald grinned and took Grym’s free hand in his. “I thought it was you who were distracting me.”

“I must be doing my job then.”

“Your job?”

Grym released her grip on her training. She wanted to enjoy the moment and remember it. “Yes, it’s in the woman’s handbook. Sylvia told me. Our job is to distract men without letting them realize what we are up to.” She smiled in an impish way as she forgot herself in the moment.

“And what are you up to?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a secret.”

“Guess I’ll have to torture it out of you.” Emerald gave her smile filled with wicked promises.

“You can try. I won’t break that easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t be much fun otherwise.”

They walked along the pier, and he pulled her closer into him. Several people gathered at a nearby arcade. One stall had a shooting gallery. A half-dozen people took aim at the targets. At the sound of the air rifles, Emerald stopped, and his face drained of color. His eyes became haunted and the hand around Grym’s waist dug into her flesh. The remnants of cotton candy dropped to the ground.

The chill of helplessness and panic raced through Grym’s veins and she allowed it to show in her voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The color crept back into Emerald’s face, and he closed his eyes, breathing deep. “You were there kneeling over me. It was you.” His voice was a whisper.

“What are you talking about? Where was I?”

Emerald opened his eyes and stared at Grym. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a waking dream.”

Part of Grym wanted him to stop talking, and for things to remain as they were. She resisted the impulse to silence him even though it tore at her insides.

“I used to have waking dreams on a consistent basis. They were vivid. I would have thought they were memories, but they weren’t just memories of another life. They were memories of a whole other world. You were there in that world. In the end, you were there.”

“Tell me.”

“You had on a gray uniform and cap. Your hair in a single braid.”

“Did we know each other?”

Emerald paused, his brow furrowed. “No, I was always too busy I think, and you were...” He stopped and looked away from her. “I was stupid. You were there the whole time, but I never noticed, never wanted to notice. I was a damn snob and a fool.”

“What happened?”

“You were kneeling over me. And you told me to hold on. You yelled for someone called Raphael. You were mad as hell and swearing. I didn’t think anyone could swear like that.” The flicker of a smile passed Emerald’s lips and disappeared. “Someone I trusted shot me, and I was bleeding out. I think I died.”

“My God, you’ve had these memories since you were a child?”

“Yes, after a while I tried to forget, but they kept coming back. Anything would trigger them, a sight, a sound, the smell of something. The smell of cotton candy reminds me of a mother I never had. She loved sweets.”

“Have you ever tried to remember everything? Perhaps you wrote it in a book or talked to somebody?”

“I think so. Everybody I’ve ever mentioned it to always told me it was just my imagination. But it always felt so real. And now you’re here.”

Grym’s confusion and worry grew. She knew the Old Man did what he wished, disregarding the opinions of his peers. She did not wish to think what he might have done to the man standing in front of her.

Emerald placed his hands on either side of her face. “In this other life, I died with you kneeling over me. What if it happens here again?”

“I won’t let it. I’ll step in front of the bullet myself if I have to. You will not die, not on my watch.”

She saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“No you won’t.” Emerald touched her lips with his fingers stopping anything more she wanted to say. “Because this time I noticed you. This time I see you. I have you, and I’m never going to let you go.”

Tears hung unshed in her eyes, and the heart she did not know she had, broke.

CHAPTER 23 - WORLDS COLLIDE

––––––––

Phalcon raced along the alleyway hoping encounters with people would be limited. He had a nasty feeling that something would happen today. His instincts were never wrong. Without a thought, the claws formed on his hands as he vaulted onto the building. He crawled up it similar to a cat climbing a tree. Phalcon had no chance to find the stairs let alone use stealth. They had little time to be in position before the package arrived. He scurried across the roof of the building, hurrying to assemble the rifle. Phalcon did not need to look at what he was doing. Touch was all he needed. Once in position, he did a quick thermal scan of the building. It confirmed he was right and something was wrong.

“How many should be in the warehouse?” After Phalcon’s inquiry, other questions and commands flowed along the Link from each member of the squad.

“We spotted at least three of Spoleto’s cars, with one man on lookout.”

“There are two at the back door.”

“How many are inside?”

“I have multiple heat signatures on every floor.”

“Only three should be in the building. O’Fallon senior, two sons, and a possible helper.”

“Take out Spoleto’s men. Be as quiet as you can.”

***

The guard on the car did not hear Ruesh come up behind him. He would not have seen him if he had. Ruesh slit his throat and stuffed him into the unlocked car with minimal fuss as Ja’kil sprinted past him on his way to the back door of the warehouse. They both ignored the ripple effect on the brickwork identifying the others scurrying up the back wall.

There was a guard just inside the door. Ja’kil backhanded the blade up and under the chin, pinning the man to the wall. He held the knife steady and scanned the room for a second before extracting the knife by slicing it across and out. It was time to clear the floor.

***

Greevez reached the open second floor window and slipped inside the building. Ref’eal followed her. The pair needed the speed. They had no other choice but to search the place by running atop the long stacks of crates and barrels leaping between narrow walkways. Ref’eal spotted a man close to the stairs as the rattle of the Tommy gun rang along the floor. The shooter had the laser dot from Ref’eal’s gun on his back one second and was spitting up blood the next. Ref’eal tried not to shudder when he felt Greevez’s thrill at finding and taking out her own prey. Several shots sprayed out in Ref’eal’s direction. Instinct dropped him to the floor as another target raced for the stairwell. Ref’eal did not bother to give chase. He had registered the soft whine of the spiders as they powered up and knew that the problem would be attended to in due course.

***

Spi’dare had to pry the third floor window open using his alternate appendages to slice through both paint and grime. He was not quiet about it, but he was quick. The people inside were too preoccupied to hear. He could feel Grym’s fear and knew that it was not for herself.

“Where’s your rifle?”

“At the apartment. It’s too bulky to carry with me, but I have other toys.”

“We’re right behind you.”

“Phalcon is guiding me in.”

“I’m powered up, and it’s time to play.” Spi’dare leaped on the last stack of crates in the row. He felt the bullets slide by him. Their force and heat was only a mild pressure as he returned fire.

***

Emerald’s mood remained dark the whole night and half the morning. Between employees not showing up for work, difficult customers, and breaking dishes, it was not a good day. Everything was going wrong. When he received a call that there was something wrong with the liquor shipment Emerald decided to handle the problem in person. Not just because O’Fallon was a good friend, but he needed to get away from the club. Chaotic nights made him regret his choice of business.

Ag’dia followed him wearing a deep green satin cloak she said she had found in the one of the wardrobe rooms. She settled into the back seat of the car with him. Gus slipped behind the wheel and Louis claimed shotgun. Everyone remained quiet on the drive allowing Emerald to brood until Ag’dia’s voice broke the silence.

“Who is this O’Fallon?”

“An old friend of mine. He’s a cheap bastard, but he’s a good guy. I buy my liquor primarily from him, and he gives me a good deal. If he is pulling a stunt to raise the rates though, I might just have to reconsider who I buy from.”

“Would he do that?”

“Maybe, we’ll see. We’re just about there. Once we get everything straightened out, we can go home and sleep.”

“Tired?”

“Very.” Emerald felt exhausted, but he did not want to admit it.

“Can’t this wait until later?”

“I can’t run a nightclub without liquor.”

When they pulled up in front of O’Fallon’s three-story warehouse, Emerald scowled at what he saw. “O’Fallon’s let the building get rundown. Plus, the crazy bastard insists on having his office on the third floor. As to why, even his sons are clueless.”

Few people were out on the streets other than those who worked in the district. Emerald, Ag’dia, Gus, and Louis entered through the loading dock. They passed the loaded delivery truck and headed toward the back. Barrels and stacked crates created a rat’s maze. The loaded freight elevator forced them to navigate the narrow winding stairs toward the office on the third floor. First Emerald, then Ag’dia, with Gus and Louis trailing. When they reached the third floor landing, Ag’dia grabbed Emerald’s arm and pulled him back. “Wait.” In a low and anxious voice, she asked him, “How many people work here?”

Emerald, tired and crabby, wanted to sleep. He almost snapped at her, until he saw the look in her eyes. Dread clutched at his heart and his subconscious screamed at him to pay attention. In a low voice he said, “There is just O’Fallon and his two sons. When he needs anyone else, I think he pulls them in off the street, why?”

“There are too many people in the building. Most are on the third floor.”

“What?”

“Do you trust O’Fallon?”

Emerald did not like where her questions were heading. “Yes.”

“Call out to Spoleto. Ask him why he’s making this personal.”

“Have you gone crazy?”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“No.”

“Boss?” Emerald motioned Gus and Louis to remain quiet.

Ag’dia repeated herself. “Call to him.”

Emerald gazed out at the crates and boxes piled high. “It’s quiet. It’s the perfect place for an ambush.”

“Yes, now call to him.”

“Hey, Spoleto, you’re up early.” Emerald heard a couple of men swear before Spoleto’s voice called from another part of the room.

“You figured it out too late, Emerald. This time I have you trapped and outnumbered.”

“Shit.” Emerald berated himself for the mistake. Until he felt Ag’dia’s hand on his arm. She handed him what appeared to be two daddy long legs on steroids. “Keep him talking. Do you remember how to use these?”

“Detect, dice, and decimate.” Emerald looked up at her. A thousand questions raced through his mind. “Why do I know that?”

Ag’dia blinked and responded to him in the same language he spoke to her. “You’re speaking in Selg’neh. No matter. We can figure this out later. First, we need to get you out of here alive. Keep Spoleto talking. Ask him how O’Fallon and his boys are.”

Emerald nodded in agreement. “O’Fallon, you okay?”

“They beat him, Emerald.” Anger and worry filled the young man’s voice.

“Quiet.”

The sound of someone hitting the wooden floor echoed in the silence.

“When the shooting starts, head back and be careful of the second floor. We are not sure how many are hidden there yet. Set the spiders between the first and second floor to close your escape. Ruesh and Ja’kil are waiting for you. I think you will know them when you see them. Get back to Club Six, and I’ll meet you in the office.”

Fear gripped Emerald, and he grabbed Ag’dia’s arm. “You’re coming with us.”

“What about O’Fallon?”

“To hell with O’Fallon. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Shush, you don’t mean that, trust me. Now let me do my job.” She placed her fingers over Emerald’s lips to silence him. “Do as I say and everything will be fine.”

Spoleto’s voice echoed through the warehouse. “Emerald, let’s get this over with. You’ve had it, and there is no place to go. I have people downstairs. Let’s make this clean and quick.”

Emerald watched Ag’dia as she took off her cloak and handed it to Gus. He received it with his mouth open, and his eyes wide in shock. Scale armor covered the black outfit she wore underneath the cloak. It fit her like a second skin. Attached to her torso and thighs was an odd assortment of strange weapons and ammunition. The three men watched in amazement as she pulled the cowl over her head and face. They stared as the cloth molded and hardened. Whisper thin fingers came alive and settled into place forming a death mask. Unhooking one of the odd-looking handguns she had hidden at her side, she moved off into the third floor maze.

“You’re a dead man, Spoleto. You had better run now before it’s too late.” Emerald’s voice was not loud as he spoke, but he knew what he said was true. He watched Ag’dia disappear around the corner of a stack of crates. A memory floated up from the dark pages of his mind. Her name was not Miss Ag’dia Grim but Grym’ska. Not a name but a number and genetic lineage marker.

“You’re the dead man, Emerald. And there are plenty of people who’ll breathe easier knowing you’re gone.”

“I never killed anybody if I could help it.”

“True, but you made a lot of enemies letting them live. Good men are rotting in jail because of you, and they are going to love hearing about your death.”

“I could have killed people, but I didn’t.”

“They didn’t appreciate it, and that’s where you were weak, Emerald. You don’t let your enemies live. They plot their revenge being locked in a cage. I know I would.”

Emerald motioned to Gus and Louis. “Stairs and be quiet. Use the edges so that the steps don’t creak. I’ll be right behind you.”

Louis, the lighter of the two men, moved fast, being careful on the second floor landing. Gus, was more reluctant to leave Emerald. He only moved half way down the flight of steps.

At the sound of the first shot, Emerald bolted plowing into Gus. They both landed hard half way off the second floor landing and almost fell the rest of the way. Plaster exploded above their heads. The racket of a Tommy gun sounded from the second floor only to be silenced when a single gunshot rang out. Emerald pulled Gus out of his way and slapped a spider on opposite sides of the stairwell walls. The tiny dials turned with ease under his fingers. Both men stumbled to the ground floor. They ran back through the maze toward the car outside. Emerald figured that the spiders would only have enough juice for two or three kills and still be able to answer their retrieval code. He did not have time to figure out how he knew that information.

Emerald heard the heavy foot falls on the stairwell. He did not want to imagine the soft crackle and the heavy wet splat as the person, whoever he was, encountered the spiders. Instead, he ran into his own men again. Gus and Louis both stopped, standing stock-still and staring at a man dressed in a similar outfit to the one Ag’dia wore. The mask was different. The faceplate had snarling tusks, and the sides pointed up to resemble ears.

Gus’ voice cracked when he spoke. “Jackal?”

The figure nodded and motioned them to follow him. Jackal stepped over one of the two dead bodies on the floor. Each body had a single gunshot wound to the chest. They moved through the warehouse, and a second man joined them. The fingers on his mask and head looked as if a skeletal hand had a hold of it.

“That must be Rush,” said Gus, talking to no one in particular.

Gus and Louis hurried to the car. Emerald hesitated and looked back at the building. “What about Ag’dia?”

“She’s a good soldier,” said Jackal.

Rush shoved Emerald into the back seat and sat next to him. Jackal sat on his other side.

***

Grym did not care for being separated from Emerald, but she figured she was in the best position. Everyone else was still scrambling to reach or clear their areas. They were scurrying up the brickwork of the building and slipping through windows, or sneaking up behind the downstairs guards and eliminating them. If she had not called in where they were going, Emerald could have been killed. Wyraitz and the others barely reached the warehouse before them. Phalcon spotted Spoleto at the window seconds before they left the stairwell.

The idea of climbing the stacks for a better view flashed through her thoughts but she discarded it. Even shielded, she did not want to become an easy target. Grym let Phalcon guide her to her targets. The voices of her other teammates reassured her. Greevez and Ref’eal were working the second floor. Wyraitz and Spi’dare made their way through one of the third floor back windows.

Grym maneuvered around cases of bourbon and saw the men with her own eyes. O’Fallon’s bloody body was lying on the floor. His two young sons knelt beside him. Both had their hands tied behind their backs. The elder boy’s mouth was smeared with blood.

“Make way. Let’s give them a scare.” Spi’dare’s words shot over the Link. Grym knew Spi’dare scurried over the tops of the crates leaving Wyraitz to bring up the rear. He did not bother to hide his appearance. Spoleto’s men opened fire on Spi’dare when they spotted him. Handguns and a single Tommy gun was no match for Sav’ine assault rifles or the sniper rifle stationed on the roof across the street. Phalcon took care of the Tommy gun before removing Spoleto. Grym was sure that if the five other shooters in the room had realized they were being attacked from both sides, they would have panicked. There was no time to panic. It was simple to remove the targets. The incident was over in seconds.

Grym ran over to the O’Fallons and cut their bonds.

“Are you all right?” Her mask not only lowered and distorted her voice, but it frightened the men, both of whom swore and crossed themselves once their hands were free. Spi’dare’s mask was no better with its pincer jaws and spikes running along his head and back. Even with his extra arms folded onto his body, he was still a terrifying sight.

“Don’t be frightened. You’re safe, but we need to get you and your father out of here so that Ref’eal can tend to your wounds.”

The sound of the freight elevator rumbled through the building as the boys picked up their father. They held him between them and headed toward the exit. Grym sent out a retrieval signal to the spiders she had given Emerald. The spiders scurried up the stairs, climbed up her leg, and settled into position to recharge. The Sav’ine pulled a few boxes out of the elevator so the O’Fallons could climb onto the crates before descending. Wyraitz and Spi’dare turned around and exited the way they had entered. The elevator stopped at the second floor. Grym was not surprised to see one of the the son’s terrified reaction to the brief glimpse of Greevez when she sprinted across the crates toward the window. Her tail twisted back and forth as if it had a life of its own. Ref’eal appeared and distracted everyone. It was his matte black, humanoid mask that appeared to have them all worried.

Ref’eal pushed his mask up so that his face was visible. “Don’t worry. We are similar to you. The outfits are for shock value.”

The comment caused a few snickers along the Link from the listening Sav’ine, and Grym tried not to smile. Grym made no comment to counter Ref’eal as he checked the elder O’Fallon.

“Mild concussion but no life-threatening injuries. You should take him home. Have him rest and heal.”

“Ask them about the shipment.”

“Why, Grym?”

“They’re responding well to you.”

“Take off your mask.”

“No.”

“Very well.”

Ref’eal glanced at Grym but returned his attention to the O’Fallon’s. “What’s this I hear about a missing shipment?”

The elder O’Fallon coughed and answered. “The truck was stocked and ready to go when Spoleto jumped us.”

“Hush, Da, I’ll grab a friend and deliver the load. You go with Jacob and get some rest.”

Grym and Ref’eal helped them to their vehicles before heading to their own transportation parked in an alley a block from the warehouse. Phalcon sat in the driver’s seat, tapping the wheel. Each of the Sav’ine piled into the work truck and deactivated their armor. It reformed into conventional workman’s garb helping them blend in with the surrounding pedestrians.

Grym worried the entire way back to Club Six. She pressed her nails into her palms as she listened to the instructions Wyraitz sent regarding entering the building via the back entrance. The Sav’ine abandoned the truck in a parking lot a few blocks away from the club. They shifted their clothing again and stowed their gear in cases or hid them within their disguises.

The cleaning crew had finished and gone, and rehearsals were scheduled for later in the day. The small group was alone in the building. Grym hurried inside to where Emerald paced the floor. Both talked at once.

“Are you all right?”

Emerald took hold of Grym and hugged her to him. Their physical attention received odd looks and raised eyebrows from the seven new arrivals. Wyraitz’s gentle cough interrupted their welcome. Emerald loosened his grip. He looked around him as the others took chairs from atop the tables to sit on. Gus and Louis sat with a bottle of whiskey between them. Only Wyraitz remained standing.

“I know you,” Emerald said. “But it’s not from here, is it?”

“It would seem so.” Wyraitz rich baritone filled the room.

“You’re not speaking English, but I can understand you.”

“I am quite certain you have many questions, as do we. Perhaps together we can answer those questions. From what we’ve been able to gather, you are Gabriel ‘Emerald’ Tanner, orphan, raised in Our Lady of Sorrows orphanage. You were found abandoned there thirty-five years ago. Yes?”

“Yes. What’s happening?” Emerald responded in the same language Wyraitz used.

“If I told you, you were Ge’berle Na’ton Fer’gite, son of Leo’aro and Heilyon Fer’gite, mother now deceased. Heir to a multibillion-dollar research facility called Tivo’llo C’ech. Would you deny it?”

The look on Emerald’s face told Grym the news shook him. She took him by the hand and helped him to a chair. Gus handed her a glass of whiskey and she placed it in Emerald’s hands. Emerald drank it in one gulp. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. How is this possible?”

“A question I had hoped you could answer. Let us start at the beginning or as close as necessary. My team and I work for Tivo’llo C’ech. Your father, in particular.”

“The Sav’ine.”

“Correct,” Wyraitz said with a nod. “I’m Lieutenant Gre’ry Wyraitz. This is Ref’eal, Ruesh, Phalcon, Spi’dare, Ja’kil, and Greevez.” At his or her name, each squad member nodded.

Gym knew from her own experience along with conversations from the other members of the squad the small twists people applied to their names. The natives of this world would say Wyraitz had a thick accent and their names came out as Wraith, Raphael, Rush, Falcon, Spider, Jackal, and Graves. “You are already acquainted with Grym’ska.” Grym, looked away. She did not wish to see the look in Emerald’s eyes.

“A little over a year ago our time, Tivo’llo C’ech was infiltrated. An attempted theft of important secret documents was made. The theft was halted, but not before the murder of four people. Three were poisoned, one was shot. Ge’berle Fer’gite, to be more specific.”

“It was real? It really happened?” Emerald’s face turned ashen.

“Yes, and it appears you share those memories, but let me continue. After this incident, Leo’aro covered up the death of his son. To the public he stated only that there was an attempt on his son’s life and that Ge’berle was in hiding, still continuing his work.”

“What was he working on?”

“I wish I knew. We were never privy to that information, but it was important enough to kill over.” Wyraitz held up his hand to stop any of Emerald’s further questions. “Please let me continue before you ask any more questions.”

Emerald nodded.

“I knew of Leo’aro’s findings regarding the other worlds and other times. When he disappeared, he left me with detailed information of it and cryptic instructions to retrieve something. He said it was vital to the safety of life. Not only life on our world, but on these other worlds. I assumed at the time that he had hidden this information away on one of these worlds. We were not expecting you.”

“What?”

“It is true. We were able to track you by a beacon implanted somewhere on your person. Spi’dare thinks that there might be a message attached. It needs to be removed so this can be confirmed. Will you let him and Ref’eal examine you? Don’t worry, Mr. Fer’gite, we need you alive and unharmed.”

Emerald looked at Grym. She could tell his mind was spinning. Grym smoothed his hair back and smiled at him. “It’s all right.”

She backed away as Spi’dare and Ref’eal came forward. Spi’dare in the lead. “If you could stand?”

Emerald obliged and allow Spi’dare to run a small handheld device over him.

“It’s in his left shoulder,” said Spi’dare. He moved out of Ref’eal’s way.

“You can sit,” said Ref’eal. “But turn the chair around and hold onto the back support. Take off your shirt while you’re at it.”

Emerald did so still in a daze.

Ref’eal laid out several items on the table. He examined Emerald’s shoulder pinpointing the exact spot of the beacon. “I think it’s just underneath the skin. An easy removal. I’ll numb the area. You won’t feel a thing.” The procedure took less than five minutes to remove the biochip. Ref’eal cleaned and glued shut the incision. “You can put your shirt back on.”

Spi’dare examined the biochip. He fiddled with gadgets pulled from hidden pockets. “With any luck, this little thing will give us answers about this fragged mission.”

Emerald looked around at the small company. “I still can’t piece it together. Lieutenant Wyraitz I recognize. I have a vague memory of Ruesh’s mohawk but not much else.”

“You did not associate with us,” said Grym. She placed a hand on his shoulder and refilled his glass.

“No. It was more than that. He said you were our family’s personal bodyguards. But...” Emerald looked up at Grym. “He wasn’t very nice was he, this Ge’berle.”

“No.”

“It’s ready.” Spi’dare’s voice sliced through the room and had everyone’s attention. The thin support pins of the viewer stood nine inches in height, and projected the image in an odd two-dimensional display. It allowed the image to be viewed both front and back.

“I remember that face,” said Emerald.

The image wavered. The recording played in both languages but at different pitches to allow the ear to focus on one. “Ge’berle, if you are viewing this than I can only hope that Lieutenant Wyraitz has found you and that you are safe. I hope that your life on your adopted world has been a happy one. I very much regret I could not have joined you. Emmy has volunteered to take you through the portal and see you arrive in safety. I have tried to explain the dangers, but you know how tribesmen are in their stubbornness. She refuses to listen and is determined to see you across the threshold. I must admit, there is no one I trust more.” Leo’aro’s image gave a brief smile before sobering.

“Please forgive me for what I have done. I can only claim desperation and the desire to save our world, and other worlds, as an excuse. Natas’ desire for money, power, and fame has blinded him to the consequences of his actions. He sees the plunder of these other worlds as his right. He does not understand that what he plans to do will weaken the fragile balance that connects us. Each time a portal is open, it makes a hole in the fabric of time and space.” An image of a thick ribbon appeared in front of the man on the screen. The ribbon altered as he touched it.

“To give you an example. Tear a small hole or poke a pin through a piece of cloth. Small holes can be mended. Sometimes they can be left alone and unseen. Larger holes are more of a problem, being ugly gashes on an otherwise perfect weave. With each rip in time and space, the barrier between our worlds weaken. Over time, these rips can repair themselves. But if too large of a tear or too many rips are made, not only can the barriers be destroyed, but the worlds they keep separated will crumble.” The ribbons disintegrated and the man in the image leaned forward.

“Natas must be stopped, no matter the cost. If everything I have done works, God willing, within you, within that brilliant mind of yours, is the key to stopping him. He will try to stop you, or attempt to kill you again.” Leo’aro placed his hands together.

“I leave you now in the care of Lieutenant Wyraitz and his people. I’m confident they will do their best to bring you home. So remember the emerald tear my boy. It is the badge of the Sav’ine, and similar to the ancient guardian of kings, they will keep you safe. I say this again because now I must explain what I have done.” The man in the image glanced over his shoulder and his composure slipped.

“Many will say it was unforgivable. I want you to know that whatever you think, and whatever has happened, or will happen, you are still my son no matter what. I am, and always will, be proud of you. The day you died, I thought everything was lost. In my despair, I did the unthinkable.” The man clasped his hands together and rubbed at his knuckles.

“As you know, on our world the replication of life, human or otherwise, is illegal and considered morally unconscionable. There is something not known to the public. Only a few people among the scientific community know the full reasons for this decision. It’s that with the replication of a person, the memories of the original host can be transferred to the replicate. You could say it’s a form of immortality. I believe you have retained all of your memories. You have been reborn at the mental age of thirty-six, so your physical age differs from your consciousness.”

The image on the viewer flickered. “The gateway I sent you and Emmy through, and the gateway I have instructed Lieutenant Wyraitz to pass, should be thirty-five years apart. This should allow you to return to this world, your home world, with no one the wiser. I am sure that Wyraitz and his people will remain silent so there is no need to worry. You must remember everything of your original life my boy. Remember, for if you do not remember, or if you choose not to do as I ask, then every ounce of hope is lost. Not only will our world break and shatter, but many others will as well.”

The transmission flickered one last time before shutting off, leaving only the stunned silence of those who had listened to it.

With his body shaking, Emerald rose from his chair. “Excuse me.”

Her own mind in turmoil, Grym glanced at the projector before watching Emerald’s retreat. “Gus, Louis, work with the others. We will need your help to keep Emerald safe. I’ll be back.”

“Sure,” said Gus. His dazed expression reflected Louis’.

She followed Emerald to his office, without conferring with Wyraitz.

“There’s more on the chip, Grym,” said Spi’dare.

“You deal with it.”

The office was silent when Gym entered, shutting the door behind her. Unlike the gambling office, this one was more spacious. It was furnished with a comfortable sofa a person could sleep on. Behind a door on the far end of the room, was a small bathroom complete with shower. Emerald could hole up in the office and never leave the club.

Grym found him in front of the liquor cabinet filling another glass. “I see you are killing a few brain cells?”

“Why not? He can always make another copy.”

“I doubt that. Besides, I think this one is nice.”

“Why, I’m not even human. I’m just another one of his damn experiments.” Emerald’s voice rose as he turned on her. She did not flinch when he threw the glass, smashing it and spraying its contents. The liquid dripped down the wainscoting. “I’ve spent my entire life wondering why I was so much different than everyone else, and now I have my answer. I’m nothing but a Goddamn subhuman freak show.”

Emerald’s words cut at her. Grym could not stop her pain from forming harsh words. “Does it bother you so much to be one of us?” Grym watched Emerald’s face mirror his thoughts as she spoke. “Lab rats was one of the kinder terms Ge’berle and his friends coined for us. I don’t know if he cared if we knew what everyone called us. We know that he considered us a joke. That didn’t matter to us. Any of us. Phalcon can see again if only in black and white. Spi’dare and Ruesh, I don’t want to know how many pieces they’ve had replaced on their bodies. If not for your father, Greevez and I would still be stuck in a military mental ward, over medicated, strapped to a bed, and if we were lucky, forgotten. Only three of us are anywhere near normal, and I am not even sure about Ja’kil. I don’t know what is wrong with him or in him.” Emerald looked away from her, but the hurt and turmoil never left his eyes. Grym wanted to remove the pain.

“But I know that everything Leo’aro Fer’gite has ever done, misguided or not, was to help people. Could the original Ge’berle say the same thing? Was he a genius brat in his own little world? I said I think you’re better. You are not him. You are Emerald. Not just because you have treated me as if I was a real person. You treat everyone like they matter, even the ones this world’s society deem pariahs. You have always treated everyone as human beings. I have seen you do it, Emerald. You’re more human than Ge’berle ever was.”

As she spoke she drew closer to him, staring him straight in the eyes. She tried to find the words for how she felt and failed. Grym wished she could touch his mind as only the Sav’ine could touch each other’s. If Grym could do that, she could make him see and feel what she felt, but she could not. Instead, she touched his cheek with her hand and said, “I like you, Emerald. If Ge’berle had not died, you would never have been. I like you much better.”

CHAPTER 24 - BLOOD AND GUTS

––––––––

Max stood outside O’Fallon’s warehouse, dreading to go inside the building. When Max got the call telling him to get to the warehouse and be quick about it, his boss refused to give out any more information. He knew the O’Fallon’s were Emerald’s prime supplier. The thought of finding his childhood friend dead inside the warehouse chilled him to the bone.

Uniformed officers had cordoned off the entire warehouse and half of the street. The same officers took statements from the few people brave enough to say a word. Max walked into what passed as a loading dock. He noted the missing truck before heading toward the first of several bodies.

The photographer was hard at work. “Hey, Max.”

“Hi, Tony, where’s Ted?” Max suspected that several copies of the scene would find their way to the front page of the various newspapers.

“He’s in the back by the stairs waiting for you. You’ll need to take the freight elevator to the main event. They’re still trying to figure out what to do with the mess on the stairs. Garbage can and a shovel is the only thing I can think of.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Worse,” said Tony, and he made a face. “I’d say everyone who’s seen it has lost their breakfast. I know I almost did.”

“Lovely.” Max found his partner sitting on two cases of scotch and looking green. “Damn, Ted, are you ok?”

“No. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk into a butcher shop again. We think it’s one of the Destefino boys judging from the watch, but we don’t know for sure. If it is one of them, the question will be, which one. Four bodies are here on the first floor. Two of them had their throats cut, and the other two have a single gunshot to the chest. There’s at least one on the stairwell. There are two more bodies on the second floor, one to three shots dead center. The third floor is where the rest of Spoleto and his men are. The O’Fallons are nowhere to be found, so I sent a uniform to the house to check. As you can see, I haven’t been able to get any farther.”

“What about Gabby?”

“Who?”

“Emerald. What about Emerald?”

“No sign of him or the shooters. The drunk across the street said he and his men were hauled off by either aliens or black masked men, take your pick. I suggest you go check the other floors before you look at the stairs. Unless you want to be sitting here with me wishing you hadn’t looked.”

“I got to look sometime. It’s my job. Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute” Part of Max felt relief that Emerald was still alive, but part of him still worried.

Ted was right with regard to the mess on the stairwell. It took everything he had to keep the bile that filled his stomach from coming up and choking him. Max was thankful for the overpowering smell of alcohol, both old and new, that permeated the warehouse. The blood, now drying and tacky, had flowed over the steps and streamed across the floor. Chunks of flesh lay scattered along the cement as if someone had tossed them down the stairwell. Most of the pieces were large enough to be identifiable. Others pieces from the insides of the torso, clung together by thin sticky membranes. Max had had enough when he turned to find an officer with a shovel and pail behind him. The poor man looked as green as Max felt and twice as distraught.

Max wandered away from the scene and back to his partner. He helped Ted up from the stack of booze he sat on. They took the elevator to the second floor. It wasn’t much different than the scene on the ground floor. They used the stairs to get to the third floor. A woman’s cloak lay jumbled on the landing. Max picked it up and examined it before dropping it back to the floor.

Ted did not say a word until they were on the third floor. “It’s Spoleto all right, one shot to the back. They put a nice size hole in him too. Why was everyone up here?”

“The office, if that’s what you want to call it, is up here. The old man liked keeping an eye on the street. How he could see a thing out of those windows is beyond me.” Max studied the large dirt covered windows and noticed several small holes. “Did someone check across the street?”

“No. Why?”

“Look at the windows. I see at least three bullet holes. Spoleto is in front of one of them with his back to the window. Whoever nailed him was across the street.”

“He’d have had to have been a damn good shot. Those windows are so filthy even the light has trouble getting through. You said the old man wanted to watch the street?”

“Guess he either opened them or rubbed the dirt off every so often.” Max motioned to one of the somewhat clean panes of glass. “I don’t think the shooter could see through walls, but he was good. So where are the rest of the gunmen?”

“Huh?”

Max scowled at his partner. “Look around, Ted. Spoleto’s men shot everywhere. They made a damn mess and wasted some good booze too. Those who weren’t shot have had their throats cut. Whoever shot at them was precise. It was always one to three shots to the chest. You can’t tell at the moment, but if we look, I’ll bet we’ll find only a few holes in the walls or boxes. Where are their casings? Who in their right mind takes their casings with them?” Max wandered around what little space there was, examining everything.

Ted, stayed where he was. “Reloads or revolver?”

“True, you still have to reload but that’s extra work. It takes time to find and pick them up. A revolver is possible, but you still have to empty the things to reload. And the holes in the bodies look more like rifle fire. How long was the firefight, and how long did it take for the first uniform to get here?”

“Can’t say. Most of the people I talked to before I walked in the building said everything happened so fast they didn’t have time to register what was going on. And no one was able to see anything.”

“Of course,” said Max.

“The shooting lasted four, five minutes tops then a couple of trucks and a car raced out of the neighborhood. No one even bothered to call the cops until someone got brave enough to wander in here and saw the first body.”

Max turn back toward his partner. He knew his voice grew in volume as he spoke, but Max could not help it. “You’re telling me someone took out thirteen men in less than five minutes. Plus, hauled off with Gabby, his bodyguards, the O’Fallons, and their own dead or wounded. Everything in less than five minutes?”

Ted stepped back and bumped into a crate. “Not me, the nut across the street.” He pointed his thumb toward the street. “If you want you can talk to him, but I don’t think you’ll do any better. He said he’d be there if you wanted him. Claims he owns the spot.”

Max heard Ted’s words but was no longer paying attention to him. He stood in front of the body that was still clutching the Tommy gun and stared up at several cases riddled with bullet holes.

“Hey you there, Pollok, climb up on the crates.”

The uniformed officer gave Max a blank look. “What for?”

“Just do it and hurry.” Max watched the officer climb the crates. “Now move to the right. My right, not yours. Over more. Now stop. Mark that spot.”

“With what?”

“Don’t you have a piece a chalk, or a pencil?”

Ted walked up next to Max. “What’s up, Max?”

Max moved to the side. “Stand right here and tell me what you see.” To the officer on the crates he said, “Once you’ve marked the spot, move out of the way.”

Ted’s eyes grew wide. “Shit, someone was there.”

“Pollok, is there any blood up there where you’re standing?”

The officer checked the top of the crates and shook his head.

“Correction, someone or something was up there. Is it my imagination or are there more bullet holes just to the right and left of the void?”

“Damn, it’s... they just... went around.” Ted did not take his eyes from the spot. Neither did Max.

“What has the power to move bullets in midair?” Max scratched his head and sighed. “Let’s go talk to that old nut you were telling me about.”

The ‘old nut’ was skinny to the point of being scrawny. The snow white hair on his head stuck straight up as he scratched at his three-day-old beard. Ruined dentures clicked even when he wasn’t trying to talk. He wagged his bony finger in the air when he spoke to them. “I saw them there in their fancy car. The big one was driving. The skinny one was in front with him. The dandy and his girl were in the back. They went in, then the shooting started, and the men came out lickety split with two other scary looking guys. They jumped into the car and left.”

Ted kept his distance and let Max ask the questions. “Can you describe the two that joined them?”

“Black and black they were, and they wore horrible masks so you couldn’t see their faces. Two of the normal men, the big one and the little one, they wanted out of there yesterday. They were scared. They didn’t want to wait for the black monsters to get into the back. Now the dandy, he wanted to go back in, but the masked men wouldn’t let him.”

“Can you describe their weapons?”

“At first I thought they were rifles, but they were too short and boxy to be rifles. But the guns were big, too big to hold with just one hand. They were weird looking, painted black just like them outfits.”

Max questioned him for a few more minutes. Nothing came of it. Max gave the man a few coins from his pocket which produced a wide smile.

“Thank you.”

“Nice talking to you,” said Max.

“Anytime.”

Ted and Max headed back to the warehouse. “What do you think, Max?”

“Miss Grim went in with them, that’s definite. The cloak in the stairwell and the old man proves it. But why wasn’t she with them when they left? I’d say Emerald was trying to go back for her.”

“Maybe she got separated? There is a back door.”

“Possible.” Max debated before asking his question. “Do you think she created the mess on the stairs?”

Ted grimaced. “I hope not. Whoever did that was a mean and sadistic bastard. To take their time and cut Destefino up the way they did. They had to be crazy.”

Max wanted to kick himself for not seeing the obvious when he first looked at the crime scene. “That means that there would have been blood everywhere.”

“Uh, Max, there was blood everywhere.”

“Correction, there was blood all over the floor and on the steps. There was nothing on the walls, no bloody footprints, nothing. There is no way a person can cut up a body and not get blood on everything, including himself. But none of the witnesses, not one, said anything about seeing a man covered in blood. It was as if Destefino walked into something and just fell apart.”

“I don’t think that they make disappearing bread slicers that big.”

“Have the coroner piece him back together, and we’ll see if I’m right.”

The bodies were photographed and taken away. Max tried questioning the few witnesses himself but came up with the same results. Reports were filed, and Max’s patience wore thin. It took little effort to convince Ted to go with him to the coroner’s office.

***

The coroner glared at both Max and Ted. He waved his scalpel in the air as he talked, “What do you think you’re doing? You’re not ordering a sandwich. I’m not a short-order cook and you’re not pesky customers. This will take time, especially with over a dozen bodies to look at.”

Max held up his hands. “We just want to know what caliber the guns were used so we know what we’re looking for.”

“Good luck.” The coroner scooped up a pan and slapped it on the table in front of Max. Its contents rattled and bounced in the tin. “The one I did get to before you two barged in here had Swiss cheese for internals. The bullet fragmented and ricochet off the ribcage. It was a damn mess. Archie’s been working on your puzzle man. When he is not dry heaving into the sink, that is. Go pester him for a while and let me get back to work.” The coroner snorted, coughed, and turned away ignoring Max.

Ted trailed Max to the far end of the room, past the gurneys lined up next to each other. Every gurney held a body. Each body was covered with a sheet and a tag tied to their big toe. At the end of the line, they reached the table with a macabre display. Miscellaneous bottles propped up chunks of flesh. Bits of string held everything together. It was hard to believe the pieces made up what once was a man. Many of the segments on the table remained confined in the buckets.

Max did not look at the buckets. He tried hard not to remember that the thing on the table was one of the Destefino boys. “See the pattern?”

There were at least six to eight cuts running in a diagonal formation. Each cut overlapped the other in a crisscross design.

“Christ almighty, what could have done this?”

Max looked at the coroner’s assistant. He thought perhaps the initial shock might have started to wear off and numbness set into the young man’s soul. “Have any suggestions, Archie?”

“The cuts are clean. At first I thought a cleaver or a sword. But even if the person had the strength, I don’t know of any object or weapon that could cut through bone without leaving as much as a splinter.”

“A disappearing bread slicer?” Ted used the same gallows humor he had used before, but no one laughed.

“Looks it,” said Max.

“Crap.”

“You said it.”

***

Max and Ted pulled up in front of Club Six. They let the valet take the vehicle. The man looked puzzled at the haggard appearance of the two men, but said nothing as he took the keys.

“The joint is still hopping,” said Ted. He lit a cigarette and followed Max through the doors.

Both of them left their coats and hats with the coat check girl. She smiled at them as she gave them their tickets. Each man scanned the happy faces of the crowd, but there was no sign of Emerald. They headed to the bar where an attentive bartender soon had both men nursing beers.

“Drinking on duty, Detective?” Max did not recognize the voice of the person who spoke to him. It had been a rough day, and Max almost told the man to shove off when he noticed the emerald tear on the man’s cheek. The tattooed man had a short-cropped hair cut. An odd jagged scar ran across his face from the bridge of his nose past his cheek. It ruined his otherwise baby-faced appearance.

Max bit back what he planned to say and asked, “Which one are you?”

“They call me Ja’kil.” A wicked smile played on the man’s face, and he held out his hand in welcome. Max shook it as did Ted. “Grym’s on her way. She’s been anxious. I can’t blame her. This whole thing has been one massive frag-bomb from the get go.”

Max glanced at Ted, who shrugged and shook his head. “What thing are you referring to?”

The smile on Jackal’s face did not reach his eyes. He tossed back his own drink and called for another one.

Before Max could inquire again, he felt someone touch his shoulder. He turned to find Miss Grim. The concern in her eyes was naked and raw. “I’m glad you’re here. It saves me from calling you.”

“What’s the matter?” Max’s original worry dialed up a notch.

“It’s Emerald. I’ve tried talking to him, but I’m not sure if he hears me anymore. You’re his best friend, maybe you can talk to him.”

“Where is he?”

“In the office, he hasn’t left it since we got back.” She nodded toward the office door.

“From O’Fallon’s?” Her weak smile was the only response Max received to his question. “They refused to talk you know, and the old man got busted up pretty bad.” When she still did not answer, Max turned to his partner. “Ted, stay at the bar. I’ll be back.”

Max followed Miss Grim to the office. On the way, when he thought Miss Grim was not looking, he snatched the photo girl and gave her a five to photograph anyone with an emerald tattoo.

When they reached the office door, Miss Grim glanced at him and made as if to say something then thought better of it. She opened the door ushering him through. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said and closed it behind him.

Emerald sat at his desk with a forgotten bottle of whiskey. The ashes of several cigarettes left burning clogged the ashtray. It was the faraway look in Emerald’s eyes that was disconcerting.

“Gabby, are you all right?”

Emerald looked up as if he had not realized that someone had entered the room.

“Max? What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you about the O’Fallons, but I take it that there is something else wrong.”

“You could say that.” To Max’s ears, Emerald’s voice sounded as if the life had drained out of him.

“Do you care to elaborate? I’m wandering in the dark here, and you’ve always been two steps ahead of everyone.”

“Have you ever been in a situation where everything you thought you knew was wrong?”

Max sank into one of the comfortable chairs that sat opposite the desk with a sigh, glad to be off his feet. “Plenty of times, being a cop you see loads of screwy things. Today, we pulled several bodies out of the O’Fallon’s warehouse. Most were shot or stabbed. One of them we had to use a shovel and pail to get him to the morgue.”

Emerald never lost his distracted look as he spoke. “Tzusls are nasty little things.”

The hairs raised on the back of Max’s neck. He had never once seen Emerald this way. Max wondered if he had lost his mind.

“Zools?”

“Tzusls, translation ‘Big Spider’ because that’s what they look like. No one bothers with their technical name. They’re tripwire and detection units, but they can also make a very nasty booby trap.”

Max was about to ask another question when Emerald changed the subject. “Why are you my friend, Max?”

“Huh?”

Emerald looked him straight in the eye. “What made you decide, all those years ago, to be my friend? Both you and Dex. And why are you both so damn determined to keep that friendship?”

Max wasn’t sure where this was going, but from the look in Emerald’s eyes, he knew that he had better give the right answer.

“You never backed down. You expected nothing but the truth. That and the fact that you were always good at blowing up things.” Max smiled hoping the comment would lighten the mood. “Gabby, you’re the reason I became a cop. You always challenged me to look past the obvious and protect the smaller kids from being bullied. Hell, what else was there for me to do? I enjoy it. How many people can say that about their jobs? Granted, I get to see the darker side of humanity, but if I do my job right, the bad guys get put away. I’m still trying to protect the small kids from the bullies. I just miss you being my partner.” He said the last with a touch of wistfulness.

Max watched Emerald’s reaction with interest. Emerald appeared to be taking everything Max said to heart.

“What if I was to say I wasn’t human?”

“I’d say if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck. You’ve always been a strange duck, but that’s what made you, you.” Max tried to be lighthearted, but a nagging feeling kept telling him that something was not right.

Emerald half smiled at the comment. “I’ve been sitting here trying to remember the past. To remember who I, Ge’berle was. I don’t think he was the nicest person. In fact, I know he wasn’t a nice person.”

Max noticed the odd emphasis Emerald gave his own name and realized it was very similar to Miss Grim’s. “There were days you lorded your smarts over everyone. You sometimes got your ass whipped for it, at least until everyone realized you had a wicked sense of humor, but you never hurt anyone.”

“I don’t mean at Our Lady of Sorrows. I mean before then.”

Exasperated, Max said, “Before? Gabby, there was no ‘before then’. We both grew up there remember?”

“They’re memories Max. Not dreams or nightmares, not my imagination. They’re memories. Ge’berle Fer’gite died at thirty-six years of age. I have his memories. I’m just a replicate, a carbon copy of a real human being. Grown and produced in a lab. Just one of my—his—father’s experiments that we—they—used to make fun of. If Ge’berle were still alive, I think he would be appalled at my existence. I’ve wondered whether he’d demand my termination or not. It’s possible you know. What Leo’aro did was illegal.” The hollowness of Emerald’s voice set Max on edge.

“Gabby, stop talking nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. It’s true, and you know what? I’m not sure if she cares. I don’t think she cares. She says she doesn’t care, but I think she means it. Then again I am her job.” Emerald paused, scowling. “I just had a nasty thought. Would I be her boss, or her owner? Why did she sleep with me? Does she take her job that seriously?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Grym’ska. She volunteered to become one of Leo’aro’s guinea pigs, same as the others. They weren’t bred into this like I was. In a way, we are all property of Leo’aro. I get the sense they feel sorry for me. I wonder if they still will if I can’t remember. When they find out all this mess was for nothing.”

“Gabby.” Max pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. Nothing was making sense.

There was a touch of fear in his voice when Emerald said, “I can’t remember, Max. It’s something very important. It’s something that will not only save this world and theirs, but others as well. But I can’t remember. I don’t even have a clue to what the basic problem was. I’ve spent so much time trying to forget. I never realized how important it all was.”

Max didn’t know what to say. His only thought was that his best friend had gone off the deep end. Max had no idea what to do.

“Gabby, when was the last time you slept?”

“Don’t know. What day is this?”

“Gabby, go home and get some rest. We can talk later when you’re not talking nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense.”

“Gabby, look at me.” Emerald looked up at him. Max got up from the chair and leaned over the desk, hands on the blotter. “You are without a doubt one of the smartest people I know. For all the games and the tricks you’ve played, on both sides of the law, you are still my best friend. No matter how infuriating you get. You want to know why? Because I know you’ll not only do the right thing, but you’ll always be there if and when I need you. Now go home and get some rest. I’m sure this place can run without you for one night.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Emerald’s voice still sounded hollow to Max’s ear.

Max tried to lighten the mood only to fail. “You’ve got to be tired. You didn’t even ask if anyone was looking for you.”

“What’s the point? They’ve found me.”

“Get some rest, Gabby. We’ll talk later.”

“Sure Max.”

Max left the office, closing the door behind him. As far as he was concerned, Emerald was exhausted, stressed, and confused. He waded back through the tables to the bar. The thought of suggesting Emerald see a doctor came to mind, but he quashed it. Emerald had no use for doctors. Ted stood where Max had left him at the bar. He held a small envelope.

“What’s that?”

“You tell me. One of your tattooed friends gave it to me and said to give it to you. That tall blonde model, talk about a real ice queen. You can’t miss her. She’s wearing a dress that has metal plates down the back. It’s an ugly thing. She said you didn’t have to waste your money. You could have just asked.” Ted handed the envelope over to Max.

Puzzled, Max didn’t wait to open it. He broke the seal and looked at the contents. Inside were eight black and white photographs. Each one was of a person with a tattoo of an emerald on their cheek. Though the clothes were civilian, the subjects in the pictures had a military bearing. He recognized Miss Grim, Falcon, and Jackal. The others he could guess. Written on the back of each photo was what Max could only assume was each of their names. The words were written in the same ornamental writing he had seen on the medallion and Emerald’s childhood note.

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nope, I tried talking to her, but she acted like someone called to her and just up and left. Weird thing was, so did that Jackal fellow. At the same time that is. They were synchronized.”

Max growled with frustration at being out maneuvered. He jammed the photos back in their envelope and shoved it into his pocket. “They’re either playing with us or they just don’t give a damn.”

“Seems that way. Did you get anything out of Emerald?”

“Other than he’s gone completely nuts? No, I’ll try again tomorrow after he’s slept. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was a candidate for the loony bin.”

“You couldn’t get anything out of him?”

“Other than a spider sliced up the Destefino boy.”

“Next the cockroaches will be having shootouts with the mob over the linguine.”

CHAPTER 25 - PAINFUL SURPRISES

––––––––

Grym woke up queasy again. She was starting to hate this world. No matter what she ate, it never agreed with her. Emerald lay beside her in deep slumber. Grym was grateful to Max for convincing Emerald to go back to the apartment and sleep.

The tapping in her head she recognized to be Ref’eal, and she opened a channel in answer.

“What is it? I am not awake.”

“Are you sick again?”

“What of it?”

“I’ll meet you in the living room. I want to check you out and see what’s wrong.”

“The food here doesn’t agree with me. That is what’s wrong.”

“You could have picked up a parasite or other bug. Do you want to spend six months in quarantine?” She could sense his concern was genuine.

“There are days when I hate being wet wired to you guys. I swear there is no privacy.”

“Stop griping, Grym, and get up.”

Careful not to disturb Emerald, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe. She stepped into the bathroom before meeting Ref’eal. He was sitting on the loveseat out in the living room..

“You look rough.”

“Good morning to you too. Is there a reason why we are in stealth mode?”

“Ge’berle, or should I call him Emerald, needs his sleep. He doesn’t need to hear us talking.”

“Good enough.”

“Other than the upset stomach, have you been experiencing any other symptoms, headache, fever?”

“No, just terrible food.” Grym had her head back against the couch and let Ref’eal take her vitals. After a while, she felt him tug on the sleeve of her robe.

“I want to check your arm.”

She slipped her arm out of the robe. He poked at the ugly scar the stitches had left. It felt like an eternity since she had fallen on the glass.

“Do you want to explain this?”

“That happened when I first found Emerald. And no I didn’t have the suit powered up. If I had, I wouldn’t have needed the stitches. It was my own damn fault, but it gave me an in. Emerald took me to this old lady to get patched up, and the rest is history.”

“Is that all she did?”

“She had good drugs. I was asleep for a while. Do you think I contracted something?”

“Let me just check one thing.” Ref’eal lanced her finger and drew blood. He swiped it on the tiny slide and ran it through one of his electronic machines. “Crap.”

“What, what did you find? Is it bad?”

“Not sure.”

“What do you mean, ‘not sure’?”

“It depends on how much you like being pregnant.”

The mental and emotional blast was sudden and unexpected. Ref’eal doubled over in an agony that had him gasping for air. The flood of voices in each of their heads did nothing for the residual ache.

“What the hell was that?”

“By the almighty, woman, are you trying to kill us all?”

“Ow and fragging ow.”

“Pain, I hurt.”

“A sledge hammer would have been less cruel.”

“Explain now!”

“Sorry, I just freaked out a bit.”

“A ‘bit’ my ass, I thought my head was going to explode.”

“That was worse than interrupting one of Wyraitz’s and Greevez’s mind shares.”

“Mind what?”

“Excuse me?”

“Forget I mentioned it.”

“Details man, we need details.”

“Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Pervert.”

“Quiet! Ref’eal, Grym’ska, both of you had better have a good explanation for this.”

“I was examining Grym. She’s been getting sick. Seems she suffered an injury awhile back and was tended to by a local doctor. They must have pulled out her implant when they patched her up. She’s pregnant, first trimester. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Three guesses who the father is.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“This just gets better and better.”

“Does he know?”

“No, he doesn’t know, and nobody is going to tell him.”

“But Grym, he has the right to know.”

“The poor guy has had enough shit dropped on him.”

“I wouldn’t call this shit, Spi’dare.”

“We’re talking about a kid here. How can you run point with me if you’re pregnant?”

“Can I babysit?”

“Say what?”

“Who are you, and what did you do with Ja’kil?”

“Hey, I like kids.”

“Wow, who would have thought.”

“Uh guys, Grym’s crying.”

“Oops.”

“I was wondering which of us that was.”

“Sorry.”

“Now what?”

“What am I going to do?”

“What do you mean, Grym?”

“Did I miss something here?”

“What’s the bet for the due date?”

“Put a cork in it, Ruesh.”

“Enough! Our first priority is getting us, and I mean all of us, back to our own world and time. Due to the situation, Grym, I suggest you stand down. At present, there are no known hostiles, so it shouldn’t be a problem. It is also up to you as to what information you wish to share of the present situation. I will say that the more help we get from Emerald, the faster we can get home. Is everyone clear on that?”

“Yes sir.”

“No problem.”

“Affirmative.”

“The great and all powerful has spoken.”

“Grow up, Spi’dare.”

“You first.”

“You’re such a twit.”

As the voices of the team broke off, Grym wiped the tears from her eyes. The whole conversation had taken place in mere seconds.

“You mentioned something about privacy?” Ref’eal pushed himself back up onto the loveseat.

Grym managed a slight smile for him.

“What do I tell him?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“What if...” She let the words drop.

“You heard the crew. The little guy will have six uncles and an aunt. Everyone will vie for his attention.”

“You think so?”

“With this motley crew, I know so, and I think Emerald might just warm to the idea.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure you worry too much.”

CHAPTER 26 - CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS

––––––––

Emerald found Ag’dia on the apartment balcony watching people and cars go by on the street below. He gazed up at the sky. “Morning. Or is it afternoon?”

Turning to face him, she leaned back against the railing and sipped her drink. “How are you feeling?” She asked in their native tongue.

Without hesitation, Emerald responded in kind. “Still a little out of it, but better. At least everything is making sense now.” He took the glass from her hands and took a swallow before grimacing. Emerald handed the glass back. “Ginger ale?”

“Yes, it’s Ref’eal’s idea. He suggested ginger tea. Have you ever tried it? It tastes like soap chips. This was a much better alternative.”

“For?”

She looked at the glass and ran her thumb along the edge as she answered. “It seems I’m losing my cast-iron stomach. It’s not like I’m running around in the field anymore eating grubs and worms. That I don’t mind leaving behind. But considering everything around here is deep fried, cooked in grease, or smothered in butter, I’m surprised I’ve survived this long. I swear I can hear my arteries clogging.”

“That’s why everything tastes so good.”

“And here I thought I was imagining it.”

He pulled her into his arms. “What are we going to do?”

“Our orders were to retrieve you and to keep you safe.” Ag’dia snuggled into his arms, her forehead on his shoulder.

It was not the answer Emerald was looking for and it gave him no comfort. He wished that she would, just this once, give him a straight answer. Emerald wanted to understand what motivated her. Now that he knew what had happened there was no need for her to carry on any charade. “And then what?”

“I don’t know. Foil Natas’ plan I guess. We were never privy to what you or any of the lab techs were doing. I assume your father will have some plan. That’s assuming he will come out of hiding when we bring you back.”

“And if I don’t go back?”

“You have to.” Grym looked up at him, her hands grasping his shirtfront. “You heard what he said. It’s not just our world that’s in danger.”

“Hush, settle down now. You don’t have to get so excited.”

“But...”

Emerald stroked her hair and brushed it away from her face. “I’ll go. I’ve been waiting for you people to show up for thirty-five years. I’m just glad it was you who showed up first and that you weren’t followed.”

“How could we be followed?”

“Wait, a minute. You mean to tell me you haven’t been monitoring shifts? Just in case anyone tried following?”

“One minute.”

Emerald watched while she clenched and unclenched her jaw. Ag’dia appeared to be listening to something he couldn’t hear. “Spi’dare said that he hasn’t noticed anything unusual. Then again, he wasn’t expecting anything. Security has gone into overdrive within the Corp for the last year.”

“What just happened?”

“We’re wired to each other. Reception is spotty here, not like at home, but it works.”

Emerald scowled at her as the implications dawned on him. “All eight of you are in constant communication with each other?”

“For the most part, why?”

“I have enough trouble dealing with an entire other life memory. I don’t know if I could handle seven other people running around in my head.”

“It’s not that terrible. There are barriers, and you can tune each other out if need be.”

“Should I have known that?”

“It’s possible. I always thought you and you father were close.”

“I’m not sure if I should call Leo’aro that. Father, that is. As for the gaps in my memory, what if this is all for nothing, and I can’t remember?”

“Maybe you need to be back in the lab to trigger it. Look over old notes.”

He shook his head and frowned. “Can you be so sure? Why is it I can remember that tears in time and space are easy to find? That it’s easy to follow someone if you know where and when they left, and where they were going. Why didn’t I remember something as simple as a wet-wire communication?”

“You remembered that name just now. It will come back. Just give it time. We’ll get the notes from the priest and everything will be fine.”

“Priest?” Emerald did not know what she was referring to, and wondered if Ag’dia was still keeping secrets.

“Ruesh was following Max and overheard a conversation between him and a Father O’Brian. The priest said he had boxes of your old notes. If we can get hold of them, then maybe something in the notes will give us a clue to what you were working on.”

Emerald took a deep breath then released it. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

“Like what?”

He could not help the sarcasm that entered his voice. “Oh I don’t know. Why you’re sleeping with me? Or do you take your job that seriously? Hell, you could have stopped me back at the office. You didn’t have to wait for Gus to interrupt me. You could have killed me without a second thought—”

The look of hurt on her face stopped everything else he wanted to say and made him regret his words. He pulled her into his arms again. “I’m sorry. God, I can be such an ass. I’m sorry.”

She did not correct him, nor did she acknowledge his outburst. Ag’dia slid her arms around Emerald’s waist and said, “Spi’dare needs help to find another weak spot. Since tears seem to be one thing you remember, you might find the next one faster than him.”

“Not too fast, there are a few things I want to wrap up here before I go. And we need to have a talk with Father O’Brian.”

“But we need to get back.”

“Two days or two years will not make much of a difference. I can get us back within a few hours of you leaving. We have time. I don’t want to leave here and leave what few friends I have hanging. It’s not as if I’ll be coming back to visit, ok.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Emerald smiled and chuckled. “Just stand there and look beautiful.”

Ag’dia scowled back up at him. “You know you might want to lose the attitude when we get back. It could get you into trouble.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and headed back inside leaving her on the balcony. Emerald left the door open to his office and took a seat. The list he made was a long one. Half way down the page, he picked up the phone and made a call.

“Charley, we need to talk. When are you free?” Emerald glanced at the clock. “Yes that will be fine, at least for a start. I will see you then. Bye.”

With the phone call made he returned to his list. There were still plenty of things yet to do and he figured Spi’dare would be anxious, along with the others, to get back home.

An hour later Charley arrived ready to do business. His cheery demeanor turned sour when Emerald told him what he wanted done.

“That’s insane. Why do you want to liquidate the businesses?”

“I have my reasons, Charley.”

“What are they?”

“Will you please do what I ask? Or do I need to get another business lawyer?”

Both men turned to face the door when they heard Ag’dia cough. Max stood beside her with a curious look on his face. “Am I interrupting something?”

Ag’dia slipped back through the door, closing it on her way out. Charley straightened his tie and grabbed his briefcase. “You are crazy, Emerald. Everything you’ve worked for will be gone.”

“You know as well as I do that I could close up shop today and still live out the rest of my days in comfort. Just do as I ask and be quick about it. I don’t have a lot of time. Here, take this with you. I don’t want anything missed.”

Emerald handed him a large file and Charley shoved it into his briefcase before excusing himself leaving Emerald and Max alone.

Max walked farther into the room. “What was that about?”

“You heard him. He thinks I’m crazy.”

“You cooking up another scheme?”

“No, disassembling one.”

“Come again?” Max looked at Emerald.

“I’m folding up shop and getting out of the racket. I’m also turning my clubs and bars over to new owners, and I’m getting my affairs in order.”

“Gabby, you are not going to die just because you dreamed it.”

“I know. That already happened, but I can’t stay here and continue on as I have been. I need to go back where I came from.”

Max ran his hands down his face and growled. “Would you please start talking sense? I thought letting you get a good night’s rest would help. In fact, my boss ripped me up one side and down the other because I didn’t lean on you about the warehouse shooting. The only reason Anderson didn’t have you picked up is because he didn’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Self defense. I could tell you everything, but half of it you wouldn’t believe. The other half Anderson would use as an excuse to put me away. Especially now that the guy backing him is dead.” Emerald looked up from the papers on his desk. “You knew Spoleto was backing him, didn’t you?”

“I suspected.”

“Well, I am going to make his life easier. You can tell Anderson that I am folding up shop and leaving the city. I just need time to put everything together, and then I’m gone. Trust me, I am going to miss you and Father O’Brian the most, and Dex too. I need to call him tomorrow.” Emerald stopped what he was doing and wrote a note in his date book.

Max ran his fingers through his hair. “How did you figure out Spoleto was backing Anderson?”

“It wasn’t hard. It’s part of the reason he wanted to get rid of me. Spoleto tried to put a couple of spies in key places. Those informants thought they were giving their bosses good information and not just what I wanted them to know.”

“So you’ve decided to leave the country now that the heat’s off?”

“It’s more complicated than that. What is it you want to know?”

Max folded his arms and slipped back into cop mode.

“Where were you Friday morning?”

“You mean, where was I when the shooting started? Yes, I was at O’Fallon’s solving a delivery problem. As soon as we realized Spoleto was there, we turned tail and ran. Neither Gus nor Louis drew their guns.” Emerald stood, hands on the desk leaning forward before searching through another tall stack of papers.

“And you didn’t contact the police.”

“I figured someone already had. Besides, what would I say? ‘Help I need protection. Someone’s in O’Fallon’s warehouse.’ You’d laugh me out of the city.”

“Miss Grim didn’t leave with you. From what a witness says, you picked up two other people.” Max watched Emerald rifle through the desk, tossing things away, or stacking them in neat piles.

“We got separated. As for Grym’ska’s friends, if they hadn’t warned us that Spoleto was in the building, I’d be attending a funeral today. My own.”

It took a moment for Max to figure out who Emerald was talking about before realizing it was Miss Grim. It would not be the first time an immigrant shortened or changed their name. Screwups in the Immigration Services Department were not unheard of either. He tried to tell himself this was the reason he could not find any information on her, but he could not make himself believe it. “So you have no knowledge of what went on in the warehouse?”

“Not everything. I could speculate, but that wouldn’t help you much I don’t think.”

“I wouldn’t mind listening.”

“Tell me what you found, and I’ll see if I can hazard a guess.” Emerald gave a mischievous smile and sat down behind the desk.

“There was a mess on the stairs.”

Emerald lost his smile. “I think I already mentioned the spiders. They’re, how should I put this? They are equipped with beams of light, which can be set at an intensity that can cut through almost anything. Each spider is outfitted with four, so they can close off a passage by setting up a crisscross pattern.”

Max’s face twisted in anger. “We didn’t find any spiders, real or imaginary, on the stairwell.”

“That means they still had enough power to travel when their retrieval codes engaged. Sometimes you don’t want to leave those things behind. Anyone could walk through them.”

“Spoleto and his men were taken out in a matter of minutes.”

“Not surprising. The Sav’ine are ex-military, elite soldiers. They know what they’re doing.” Emerald shook his head and continued to sort. “You won’t find any casings either, if that’s one of your questions. Their guns are assault rifles and uses caseless ammunition. Each magazine holds fifty rounds. Less weight means more ammo. Would you like to see one?”

Max sat in one of the office chairs and glared at Emerald.

“What are you playing at, Gabby?”

“I told you everything, Max. I know it’s hard to wrap your mind around it. And as much as I hate being a replicate, Leo’aro came up with a perfect way that no one will know. At least for the most part. If I can’t remember everything, we’ll have to come up with some excuse for the amnesia.”

“Le-who?”

“Leo’aro. He is the biological father to Ge’berle and scientific father to me. I’m still not comfortable calling him father, but I’ll deal with that later. Anyway, he sent me to this world to keep me safe. The Sav’ine are here to retrieve me and take me back to Tivo’llo C’ech, the corporation my family—Ge’berle’s family—owns. The corporation works in many different areas, but much of it is in military applications, experimental projects, and space technology. We’ve been in direct competition with Nat’con Sh’ec. Similar to many in the illegal gambling and booze business, the owner of that company is not above espionage or murder.”

Emerald drummed his knuckles on the desk and gave Max a quick smile. “This, in case you’re wondering, is why I’m here. I just have to remember everything Ge’berle was working on. The original Ge’berle didn’t keep a bunch of notes. Most everything was locked in his head. Yes, I know I do the same. The thing is, if I don’t remember everything, and I mean everything, we’ll all be in a heap of trouble. Natas may well have his way, and trust me, he’s one nasty customer.”

Emerald sat back in his chair. He did not want to upset Max by telling him about how the Sav’ine listened to his conversation with Father O’Brian, so he chose his words with care.

“Emmy always told me to remember. I should have written everything down. If I did, I hope it’s safe somewhere. I don’t know why Leo’aro didn’t send anyone else with me. Maybe there wasn’t enough time, or perhaps there wasn’t anyone he felt he could trust, I don’t know. I’ll have to ask when I see him, if I see him. Wyraitz said he went into hiding.”

“Stop, just stop, Gabby.” Max’s voice rose to a shout. “I thought giving you time to rest would do you good. My mistake. If you’re going to give me nothing but science fiction mumbo jumbo, damn it, we’re through. You’re not talking to an idiot, and I resent being treated as one.”

The soft chuckle behind him startled Max. He swung around to find out who had entered the room. Spi’dare sat in a chair, his detached right leg balanced on his left. To the untutored, he was sticking long pins into a mannequin's leg.

When Spi’dare had Max’s attention, he pulled the pins from the open panel in the leg and placed them in his breast pocket. Closing the panel, he picked up the leg, turned it, and reattached it to its stump. The noise of the clamps securing the leg into place, although soft, sounded like gunfire in the silent room.

Emerald covered his mouth with his hand. He did not want to laugh and interrupt Spi’dare while he tested the leg’s movements. The stunned look of amazement stayed on Max’s face as the tawny material that encased the appendage gave and stretched at the joints not unlike real skin. Spi’dare pulled the cloth from his open pant leg around the leg. The cloth stitched itself together forming a boot around the foot. With his repairs done, Spi’dare stood, picked up his assault rifle, and hung its strap across his shoulder.

“Detective, if you don’t mind I would like to get my science fiction behind back home. My legs are giving me trouble again, and I need the lab rats at the body shop for that. They can’t seem to get the ticks out of them. And with the extras they keep loading me with, they may as well put me on wheels. They always want to upgrade me and Ruesh both. Trust me, this place is no party for him either. If his re-breathers go out or his pump gets a glitch, he’ll be brain dead in less than ten minutes.”

“Max, let me introduce you to Spi’dare. Spi’dare this is my best friend, Detective Maxwell Carver.”

Spi’dare nodded to Max and moved to the side of the desk.

Max froze in shock, not quite sure what he was seeing. His attention focused on Spi’dare. “Everything you said was true?”

“Yes, Max, I’m sorry you won’t be able to tell any of this to your boss or Anderson. They wouldn’t believe you even if you tried. But I wanted you to know. We’ll be leaving as soon as I get a few things straightened out.”

“You’re pretty confident. These calculations are a bitch, and it’s not like there is any margin for error with tearing a passage between our world and here,” said Spi’dare

Emerald held his hand out. “Let me see.”

Spi’dare handed over a thin, black box at least two to three times the size of a cigarette case. Emerald opened the microcomputer and sat it on the desk before moving his hands across the flat keyboard.

Max moved around the desk to stand behind Emerald. “What are you doing? How are you doing... you’re touching pictures?”

“Don’t interrupt, Max. I’m working on a delicate map.”

Emerald paid no attention to the clock while he focused on what he was doing. Twenty minutes later, he handed the computer back to Spi’dare. “We should be able to leave a week from Tuesday, late morning at Gateway Park. Double check to be sure, but it should get us home within a week after you left.”

When he saw the disgusted look on Spi’dare’s face, Emerald said, “You did most of the work. You haven’t had quantum mechanics, spatiotemporal science, and theorems pounded into your head for twenty years, but you’re good.”

“Still, I’ve been working on that for two days.” Spi’dare snapped the lid to the computer closed. “I’ll check the stats and prepare the squid. Thanks. Nice meeting you, Detective.”

Max waited until Spi’dare let himself out of the room, before he asked Emerald, “What was that all about? Other than the ‘Nice meeting you’, I have no clue on what either of you said. It sounded like mumbo jumbo.”

“What?” Emerald blinked and had to think a moment to understand Max’s question. “Oh that. I guess I’ve gotten so used to switching languages I don’t realized that I’m doing it.”

“So what did you say, and what’s with the case?”

“I guess you could say we were making our travel plans, and that was our notebook.”

Emerald smiled again as Max moved back around the desk to sit in a chair.

“That was more than just a notebook.”

“You’re right, but I’m not sure how to explain. The terms I could use would mean nothing to you. I guess the easiest way is to think of it as an adding machine, typewriter, and filing cabinet. But that little gadget does more than that. It can do the work of your entire office staff, give or take. Our worlds are very different, Max, yet, they’re very much alike.”

Emerald rose from his desk and headed for the sideboard. “I think you need a drink. I know I do.” He filled two glasses and handed one to Max. Pausing mid-step, he grabbed the bottle as well.

Max took a long swallow before shaking his head. “So what is this whole thing about? I still don’t understand any of it.”

“I only understand half of it myself. There’s a huge pile of secrets. What I can tell you is that where your world is ruled by countries, mine is ruled by corporations, we call them Corps. We still have cities and states, but with the passage of time, the terms have lost their meaning. I’ve never wanted to deal with the political aspects of life, here or on the other world. But on both worlds, the politics are very much the same.”

Emerald picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser on the desk. “What I know is that whatever Ge’berle was working on, something I’m supposed to remember, can shift the balance of power. It will also stop the ultimate destruction of said world or worlds.”

“‘Worlds’? How many worlds are there?”

“That is a good question, and I don’t know. So far, about a dozen worlds, I think. But, whether they are true worlds or parallel shadows of each other is still in question. What is known is that not all of them are habitable or kind to the human condition. It is possible that the number of these worlds could be infinite. There’s still so much that we don’t know. What we know is that passing from one to the other is not something to play with. The odds of disaster are very high. It could be as small as letting a virus through that causes a plague wiping out an entire civilization. It could be as massive as both worlds ceasing to exist because they’re torn apart.” Emerald tossed the pencil on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

“So now what?”

“Not much. I’ll close down everything I was doing here. Make sure my employees are taken care of, whether it’s having enough money until they can find another job or retire. In some cases, they get the business. Minus the illegal gambling. I figure I can do at least that for you. I realize that other places will start up after I’m gone, but I can’t do a thing about that.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Never-ending cycle.”

“More like a hydra, get rid of one head and two replace it. This is why I’m giving you the specs on the halls I’m shutting down in case anyone tries to copy me.”

“What?” Max looked at Emerald in wide eyed surprise.

“After I leave, Charley has orders to give you the schematics and blueprints of the gambling halls. The same goes for the emerald from Our Lady of Sorrows. It’s paste, absolutely worthless. Maybe I’ll give her a real one.”

The scowl returned to Max’s face. “You’re switching subjects again.”

“Yes I am. I know you’ve always wondered how I kept everyone guessing. Grym’ska calls it parlor tricks and to her it is simplistic. You’ll find it simple too when you see the plans on the different halls, but you won’t get them until after I leave. So don’t think about arresting me, or that sticking me in a cell for a while will help. There are eight other people that want to go home, and their orders are to bring me with them. Honor is a big thing to the Sav’ine, and they are not used to having people get in their way. Perhaps I should say they remove people who get in their way.” Emerald could not help smiling at the thought of what the Sav’ine might do with Anderson if he tried to stop them.

“‘Sav’ine’, you mentioned that word before.”

“And you thought it was some made up word.”

Max nodded and looked away. “I thought you were talking crazy. I still can’t believe I’m listening to this.” He looked back at Emerald. “So this is really happening? You’re going.”

“For more than one reason. You know as well as I do that I don’t belong here. I never have.”

“Yes but...” Max shrugged and looked at his empty glass. Emerald picked up the decanter and poured more of the amber liquid into it.

“I’ll miss you, Max. We weren’t Holmes and Watson nor were we Holmes and Moriarty, but you’ve always been my best friend no matter what. Do me a favor and take care of Gus. He’s a good egg. People assume he’s dumb, and he’s not. I have a feeling he’ll try to follow me, and he shouldn’t. I’m going to try to set him and some of the other boys up in their own private detective agency. You can never have too many police contacts.”

Max voice rose in volume. “Hoods becoming private dicks? You are nuts.”

“It’s either that or racing cars,” said Emerald. “It’s not that crazy. How do you think I’ve been getting information on the competition? Not to mention what you boys in blue are up to. I’ve got some interesting dirt on Anderson if you want to know about it, aside from his late backer, that is. The boys will do the same thing they’ve always done. They’ll just be legit and have a different boss, is all. Maybe you’ll join them?”

“What?”

“It was just a suggestion. The offer is there if you want it. You’re a good detective, Max, but I know you’ve wanted to strangle the D.A. more than once. I figured that between you and Gus, the plan has a better chance of getting off the ground. I haven’t said anything to him yet. If I make it sound like I’m worried about you, which I am, he might just take the job on principle.”

“Sometimes I think you belong in a strait jacket. That’s the screwiest scheme you’ve come up with yet.”

“But you’re thinking about it.”

Max grimaced. “I hate when you do that.”

Emerald saluted Max with his glass, took a drink, and stood.

“I have until a week from Tuesday to get everything ready. I’m trying to get everything done as fast as I can. If I have any loose ends, I’m hoping between you, Charley, and Gus they’ll get taken care of. As for the D.A., I’m figuring on being long gone before he realizes I’m serious about getting out of the business. Do you think he’ll believe that I’m closing the doors?”

Max sighed. “As much as he wants to see you gone, he wants more to see you behind bars. To him you’re just a bad egg. He would never believe you’re closing up shop.”

“And you, Max? What do you believe?”

“That you’ve never cared for the money. You’ve just been looking for someone to play with.” Both of them laughed at the comment. “You should’ve become a cop. You could have cleaned up this town.”

“Too much red tape, and I never liked working for anybody but myself. The original Ge’berle had a similar problem. He only answered to his father.”

“You make it sound as if you’re two different people.”

“We are, yet we aren’t. When his life ended, mine began. There were mistakes he made that I chose not to follow. Instead, I made my own. I may have his memories, but I’m not him. Unlike him, I’ve had a harder life. To him guns were just toys. To know what a thing can do and seeing it done are two different things. I’ve seen the results first hand, because I wasn’t sheltered from the common man. I know what Ge’berle did. I grew up having to deal with people who thought I was a normal child, not an adult trapped in a child’s body. Oddly enough, I have Sister Mary Joseph to thank for opening my eyes to so many things.”

“That old crow?”

“She’s still around, you know.”

Max made a sour face. “Evil doesn’t die easy.”

Emerald smiled. “She’s hurting, so she takes it out on everyone else. She won’t let anyone help. You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped. She’ll hold onto that hurt as if it’s a lifeline, not realizing that it’s killing her from the inside out. It would have been so easy for me to be like that. When I met her, I swore that there was no way in hell I would let that happen to me.” Emerald smiled at Max’s shocked look. “Maybe bad things happen to good people for a reason sometimes. Perhaps it’s how we react to those things that not only makes a difference in our lives but to those around us.”

“You’re a philosopher and genius now. What’s next, ringmaster of the circus?”

“You could say that. I am in line to take over as the head of Tivo’llo C’ech. Leo’aro’s scheming has guaranteed that, but it means showing up soon. Leaders can only stay in hiding for so long before people get suspicious and the wolves start sniffing around. If Leo’aro or I don’t make a public appearance soon, the other corporations will get suspicious. Tivo’llo C’ech may be a strong enough power to withstand multiple attacks, but it won’t stop the others from trying to take over, or at least buy out divisions.”

“You lost me there,” said Max. He looked confused.

“Think of it this way. Here, in this world, if the president is assassinated, the vice president would take over the position. People would be upset, but things would still be business as usual. In my world, you have the corporation heads and the boards beneath them. If a corporation head dies with no heir, or the heir they have has a different idea of how to run the company, anything could happen. Just imagine if your president dies, you could find yourself in a civil war, or maybe Canada and Mexico take a chance and invade. Perhaps they decide on a less bloody approach and Mexico buys Texas, and Canada makes an offer for the New England states.”

Emerald shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Things change very quickly on my world, so upsets and civil unrest are not uncommon. Tivo’llo C’ech is one of the older and more stable corporations. We take care of our own as best we can, but we are not invulnerable. The board has several good men on it. As long as there’s not too much infighting, Tivo’llo C’ech should be able to survive intact. But it would still take a toll, and they may not view stopping Natas as a high priority until it’s too late.”

“Who or what is Natas?”

The fear and worry Emerald felt, he let show on his face. “Someone, who if not stopped, will not only destroy my world but could destroy yours as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too good.”

“No, no it’s not. I need to go back, Max. Even if I wanted to stay, I can’t in good conscience.”

“What can I do?”

In a rare display of affection, Emerald stepped around the desk and gave Max a bear hug.

“Just take care of yourself, Max.”

CHAPTER 27 - SILENCE IS GOLDEN

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Grym exited the apartment leaving Emerald and Max their privacy. Gus and Spi’dare sat in the vestibule, and Gus stood up from the chair when he spotted her. Spi’dare stayed seated, cross-legged on the floor, with the Gate Key in his lap.

Grym looked at Gus and asked, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up when a woman enters a room. I’ve noticed many men do this.”

“My mother raised me to be a gentleman, Miss.”

“There a lot of different customs here,” said Spi’dare. He did not look up from his work on the squid. The slang term given the Gate Key was because of the three articulated tentacles and its aquatic beast appearance. Spi’dare poked at the squid’s small internal keypad with a stylus before switching back to the microcomputer sitting open on the floor.

“Wyraitz had a fit the other day when someone mistook him for a servant.” Spi’dare spoke aloud and in English.

Grym tilted her head to the side. “How could anyone do that? He screams authority.”

“His color.” Gus’ statement had both Grym and Spi’dare looking at him.

“What do you mean?” asked Grym.

“His skin.” Gus glanced between Grym and Spi’dare and realized that neither understood what he was talking about. “It’s like everybody who looks at me and thinks I’m stupid because I’m big and ugly.”

“Messing with Wyraitz is a good way to get yourself killed.” Spi’dare turned his attention back to the squid but continued talking. “Anyone tries that again in Greevez’s presence will find themselves in serious trouble.”

Gus was still trying to connect the names with the faces. “Greevez, isn’t that the bleach blond dame?”

Grym knelt on the carpet between the two men and placed her hands on her thighs. “Yes, she and I always run point, but she can be overprotective when it comes to Wyraitz.” She motioned Gus to sit when he offered her the chair.

Spi’dare snorted. “Overprotective, my ass. Did you know those two had a thing going?”

His comment earned him a scowl from Grym. “You’re not supposed to voice it out loud, Spi’dare. Don’t tell me you didn’t suspect what they were doing. Everybody else did.”

“I stick to my electronics, thank you. They don’t go crazy on you for no apparent reason.” A tentacle of the squid moved and waved in the air. Spi’dare slapped at it.

Grym smiled. “I think the squid disagrees with you.”

Gus did not realize he was scowling until Grym asked, “What is it, Gus?”

“Don’t let that information get out. Even if you’re not from around here, there are those who wouldn’t take kindly to such relationships.”

Grym nodded and said, “That’s why none of us say anything. With Wyraitz being the leader, he should have assigned Greevez to a different squad if they want a relationship. Then again, Greevez tends not to play well with others.”

Gus shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, but I don’t think I could get you two to understand. Never could get the boss to. He never cared who you were or what you did for a living. He treats everyone the same.”

“You like working for him?” asked Spi’dare.

“Yes. He knows I’m smarter than I look.”

“So he is a good guy.” Spi’dare looked sideways at Grym, and she looked away.

Gus watched the pair. He had seen the same thing transpire between every one of the tattooed squad. It was similar to watching a conversation, but being unable to hear what anyone said. Their facial expressions changed or they did something, but it didn’t seem related to any sound, command, or signal. He knew from his observations that they did not need to be in the same room, let alone be looking at one another to hear. This became evident to Gus when he was talking to Jackal. Right in the middle of the conversation Jackal’s body went rigid as if he was in excruciating pain. His eyes rolled back in his head before he collapsed to the floor. Though the man recovered quick enough, and even smiled, the only explanation given was the offhanded comment of, “Damn, that woman can scream.”

***

Grym opened a connection with Spi’dare. “What are you getting at, Spi’dare?”

“You haven’t told him yet.”

“He has other more important things on his mind. Besides, I haven’t adjusted to the knowledge yet, so give me a break, will you?”

“Scared witless are you?”

“Kiss my ass, Spi’dare.”

“He’s a good man, Grym. He deserves to know, or are you worried he’ll take the kid?”

A jolt of fear ran through her, but she was quick to rein it in. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but he will need an heir. It wouldn’t be the first time a breeder was needed.”

“You’re no breeder, and I doubt if he’d ever consider you one. Besides, we have an ace in the hole. We know what he is.”

“But there is no proof, and even if anyone looked close enough at his molecular profile it would cause more damage than fix.”

CHAPTER 28 - BEST INTENTIONS

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At Brandon’s Barn the tobacco smoke was thick in the air. The club was an old barn someone had converted into a gin joint rather than tear down and leave as a vacant lot. The only part of the floor that was not dirt was the dance floor, and the few tables and chairs in the room were a motley crew. They were a hodge-podge of discarded items rescued from the trash piles around the city.

Loud and animated patrons covered the dance floor and filled the building. The volume lowered for a moment when Emerald and his party walked into the room. Grym was by his side, with Gus and Louis trailing them. There was no waiter to guide them to a table nor was there anyone to take their coats and hats. The patrons could be called anything but hodge-podge, having dressed in their finest clothes. The few who could afford it wore furs or jewels. They acted as if they were in the ritziest place in the city instead of a ramshackle, old barn.

Emerald spotted the party waiting for them and motioned Louis and Gus to head for the bar. He took Grym’s hand and led her through the rowdy crowd. Grym toned down what she was wearing after Emerald had explained where they were going, but they still stood out like cats in a dog pound. When they reached the table, Rufus’s Cheshire cat grin and boisterous attitude welcomed them into the group. He took joy in introducing Grym to the other members of the party.

“Good evening, Mr. Emerald. Miss Grim, it’s lovely to see you, and may I introduce Samson, James, Little Ricky, and the unforgettable Lilly. Everyone this is Emerald’s girl, Miss Grim.”

The men rose from their seats at the couple’s approach. Lilly remained seated, her voluptuous figure and colorful dress all but hiding the chair she sat on. Her eyes studied Grym. “Skinny little thing. What have you been feeding her, Emerald, bread and water?”

“Don’t be jealous, Lilly. You’ll always have me,” said James. His dark hair was slicked back. A touch of white on his temples was the only thing that gave a hint as to his age.

“I am not jealous, you old fool.” Lilly hit James’ shoulder with the small decorative fan she had been using. “I want to make sure he’s feeding her. Come here, Honey, and sit down before the rest of these fools fall all over themselves.”

Grym found the woman’s harsh tones somewhat confusing. She did not know if the woman was angry or not. She took the seat offered her and listened as the men ignored Lilly’s rudeness.

“Now, Emerald, if you wanted to keep such a lovely lady, you should know better than to bring her around here. Someone might just steal her away.” Samson was tall and muscular with deep brown eyes, and coal black skin. He had a smile that promised the world, but from what Emerald told Grym, he had a heart just as fickle.

“Any woman smart enough to get under Emerald’s skin could see through your bullshit, Samson. But it sure would be funny watching you try to convince her otherwise.” Little Ricky was the lightest one of the group with his complexion the color of creamed coffee. The glasses that perched on the end of his nose along with his sharp features gave him a somewhat birdlike appearance.

“You never know, bookworm. She may want to enjoy herself.”

“Knock it off, Samson. You’ve got plenty of women on a string now as it is, and something tells me that Miss Grim would have you on your knees in no time.” The whole table howled at Rufus’s comment, and Samson had the decency to fake being offended.

James filled two of the jelly jars they were using as glasses and passed them to Emerald and Grym. “What was so important as to get us all together, my boy? You’re never this public.” The normal humor had left the old man’s eyes and been replaced with wariness and concern.

Emerald reached into his suit pocket and removed several envelopes. He propped them up between the liquor bottle and another glass that sat on the table. “I wanted to say my goodbyes in person and to give you these.”

“What are they?”

“Deeds to various buildings, Rufus’ pawn shop, Samson’s pool hall and apartment building, the warehouses and such. I’m handing them over. And don’t worry, I’m not telling anyone about your secondary business.”

“But why, Baby? Why after all this time?” Lilly’s harsh voice turned soft as she spoke.

Puzzled glances ran across the table.

“Like I said, I’m leaving town, and you don’t need some scrawny kid to front for you anymore. I should have done this years ago.”

“So it’s true then. You’re folding up shop. We heard the rumors, but we thought it was a load of crap,” said Rufus.

“It’s true, and I’m just trying to set everything right before I go.”

Everyone tried to talk at once wanting to know what was going on and what he was thinking.

“Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?”

Lilly pointed her fan at Grym. “You doing this for her?”

Emerald had to raise his voice to be heard. “Calm down, it’s not the end of the world. At least I hope it won’t be. I can’t explain where I’m going or what I’ll be doing. Let’s just please be happy tonight and enjoy each other’s company.”

Lilly brandished her fan like a wand. “This isn’t one of your silly little tricks, is it? Because I swear, I’ll whip your behind if it is.”

“It’s no joke, Lilly. I’m going,” said Emerald.

Lilly’s face crumbled and her shoulders slumped. James put his hand on her arm and said “Don’t worry, Mamma. The boy will land on his feet. He always has and always will. Don’t cry now.”

“I’m not crying. I have an eyelash in my eye.” With a flourish, she opened her purse, pulled out a huge handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes.

Little Ricky got up from the table and headed toward the bar. “Well, seeing as this is now a going away party, we need more gin.”

Stories of old times and good times passed around the table. Tales spun of how they had met, eluded police, or dealt with the competition. Enthralled at the storytelling, Grym learned more about the man who sat beside her, along with the people around the table.

Rufus’ Cheshire cat grin never faded as he told his story. “Bless my soul, we thought an angel had dropped from heaven that day, and with a crooked halo at that. There we were: me, Samson, and my fool brother JJ caught red handed with the truck and no place to go. The police were ready to lynch us. That was when Emerald here pops up out of nowhere. We didn’t know him from Adam. But he told a whopper. He said we were on some big cat’s payroll. And they needed to let us go right away. They’d be pounding the pavement for the rest of their lives if they didn’t.”

Grym felt Lilly tug at her sleeve. The woman hefted her bulk out of the chair. “If you boys will excuse us. We ladies have to powder our noses. Come on, Honey, I’ll lead the way.”

With a quick glance at Emerald, Grym stood and followed Lilly. She led Grym across the room to a door with the word ‘women’ scrawled across it in red paint. Inside was a small room not much better than the one they left. Someone had tried to dress it up with yellow paint, a few cracked ornate mirrors, and a threadbare sofa. There was a door on the far end, and the slight odor that wafted through the door gave a hint to the outhouse beyond the portal.

Once both women were inside and the door to the hall closed, Lilly turned and placed her hands on her ample hips. “How far along are you?”

Dumbfounded, Grym gave no reply. Lilly refused to let her remain quiet.

“Come on, I seen that nice little sleight-of-hand trick you was doing, passing your glass onto somebody else. You would make a damn good pickpocket. But what I want to know is why all the sudden Emerald is closing up shop. And the only thing that makes sense is you. So I want to know how long you been pregnant.”

Grym did not want to lie to the woman. “He doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“I just found out, but he doesn’t know. Please don’t tell him.”

“What kind of scam are you running, little girl? Because if you ever think about hurting that boy, I will hunt you down and skin you alive. Do you hear me?”

“I would give my life for him.” Grym’s soft words took the air out of the older woman’s sails, and she deflated.

“Ah damn, now I really am going to cry.” Lilly raked her hands across her face to brush away the tears. With a loud sniffle, she dragged the handkerchief out of her purse. “Why then, why is he leaving?”

“It’s important.”

“What’s so important he has to leave? Hell, he’s family. He’s been with us since he ran away from that orphanage, and he never forgot us neither. Not after he went out on his own. He’s more of a son to me and James than any we could have possibly had.”

Grym did not know what to say, so she said nothing and waited for Lilly to pull herself together before they exited the room. Half way back to the table, Grym heard Lilly swear and saw her accelerate her speed. The large woman pushed aside anyone that did not move out of her way fast enough.

“JJ, what the hell are you doing here, you no account son of a bitch?”

Everyone around the table was standing, but James. The tension was so thick the air crackled with it. The cause was a well dressed young man everyone called JJ. Even with the cocky smile and air of arrogance, Grym could tell he had the heart of a snake.

“I’m just saying a friendly hello, Miss Lilly. You were having such a wonderful time I thought I might join you.” His eyes slid from Lilly to Grym and lingered over her form. “Ah, this must be the lady everyone is talking about. Ain’t she a pretty little thing.”

“You keep your hands off, and your eyes in your head boy. This here is a private party and you’re not invited.”

“Now, Miss Lilly...”

“Don’t you Miss Lilly me...”

Emerald placed a hand on Lilly’s arm. “Lilly, it’s late, and we should go.”

Lilly glanced from one man to the other before settling down to an uneasy stance. “Maybe you’re right. James, let’s go home. The air in here is getting foul.” Lilly continued to glare at JJ as Samson helped James to his feet, and Little Ricky waited for the others. Rufus’ disappointment in his brother was written on his face.

Grym listened to the Link and followed her squad’s instructions. She shifted in position putting herself between Emerald and her back to JJ. Emerald had been liberal with his drink. She hoped he did not realize what she was doing. He was not so far gone as to miss the tiny red dot that had appeared on JJ’s chest. Grym recognized the fear in Emerald’s eyes but did not follow his line of site. He was her priority.

Emerald stepped back from the table but kept his balance. “JJ don’t. Whatever you have planned, please don’t.”

“You think I’m stupid. Do you think us all fools? You left a hole the size of Kansas in the racket when you off’d Spoleto, and now you’re trying to make everyone believe you’re leaving? That you don’t have plans to take over the entire city? I know what’s happening. Why else is everyone running scared? No one but these fools believes you, so don’t even try your bullshit on me. I know better.”

“JJ...”

JJ glared at his brother. “Shut up, Rufus. I told you he was using you.”

Grym’s next words startled JJ. “He has Gus and Louis covered.”

“Smart lady.” JJ went to pull his gun out from under his jacket, but as soon as he touched it three shots rang out. JJ dropped to the floor just as two men by the bar collapsed. The crowd in the barn panicked. Several people looked around to see what was going on while others raced for the door. Gunfire may not have been uncommon at the barn, but when it happened, people knew to leave. Wyraitz, Ruesh, Spi’dare, and Ja’kil surfaced from the shadows each one dressed in long black coats, rifles in hand. Their appearance caused a mass exodus. Everyone at Emerald’s table stayed put.

Wyraitz stayed next to Emerald. The other three slung their rifles over their shoulders. Each picked up a fallen man in a fireman’s hold and headed out the doors.

Emerald’s voice was hoarse and low. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes,” said Wyraitz.

Grym thought Emerald looked ashamed as he and the others watched Ruesh carry away JJ’s body.

“You could have tranqued him.”

“Tranques take time, and Ref’eal believed that he was jacked on something.”

“Who are you?” Little Ricky was the first to come out of his shock and looked up at Wyraitz.

Wyraitz glanced at him but settled his attention back on Emerald. “We need to leave now.”

“Where are they taking them?” Emerald asked.

Grym placed her hand on Emerald’s shoulder. “Please.”

Wyraitz was not so gentle with his words. “They can’t be found. Not this time. We need to leave now. Phalcon spotted his other accomplices, and we need to get you to safety.”

Emerald moved on wooden legs, gazing at the shocked faces of those that stood around the table. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It pained Grym to see Emerald this way. His shame well evident on his face.

Lilly put her hand out to stop Emerald from leaving. “What kind of trouble you into this time, boy? And don’t you lie to me.”

He took her hand and before releasing it said, “Don’t worry, Lilly. They’ll keep me safe.”

Grym and Wyraitz trailed Emerald as he left his friends behind in the barn. Wyraitz disappeared into the night when they stepped outside into the open air. Grym and Emerald crossed the grassy plot used for parking, and headed toward the car. Gus and Louis had exited the building before them. They waited in the car with the engine running.

Grym helped Emerald into the vehicle. “What have I done?”

“You have done nothing.”

“JJ’s dead.”

“He was killing himself and harming others. He made the choice, not you.”

“But...”

“Everyone knows the truth. Some will accept it, others won’t. You know what is true.”

Gus gunned the engine. The wheels spun, caught traction, and the car bounced and rocked along the uneven ground on the way to the road.

CHAPTER 29 – PEL’ASKGIA

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Father O’Brian walked into his office with a bag of fresh-made sugar cookies. A parishioner had left them as a thank you. The thought of the sweets consumed his attention. O’Brian didn’t notice the trio when he came bustling through the office door. It wasn’t until he was at his desk ready to sit that he realized that he wasn’t alone.

“What! Gabriel?” His eyes darted from one figure to another. A woman sat next to Emerald and a man stood behind them dressed in a long coat with his rifle slung over his shoulder. O’Brian didn’t say a word as he watched the man close the door.

Emerald was the first to talk. “It’s been a long time, Father. I’m sorry for the intrusion. I realize how this might look, but my body guards won’t let me go anywhere without them. Let me introduce Miss Grim and Ref’eal.”

“Nice to meet you.” O’Brian turned his attention back to Emerald. “Yes it has been awhile. What brings you here today?”

“Someone mentioned that you might have information I need. So I thought I’d come here in person.”

Father O’Brian dropped the bag of cookies on the desk and lowered himself into his chair. He wished he had not said a word to Max about the notebooks. Now he had no choice but to hand over the documents. “I mentioned to Max that you used to write on everything you could get a hold of.”

“That was years ago. The notes are probably burned or buried under ten tons of garbage by now.”

O’Brian looked away. He suspected Emerald already knew the truth. “Not necessarily.”

“Father, did you keep the notes?”

“Yes. They’re in one of the store rooms in the school building. There are several boxes.”

Emerald stood up from his chair. “I suggest we go there and take a look.”

Ref’eal was at his side in an instant. “It would be inadvisable to be seen in public. Even on the church grounds. It would only take one person, and our lives would get difficult. Even the priest’s life.”

“He’s got a point.” O’Brian did not mean to blurt out what he said. “I’ve been hearing rumors about you and what’s going on. You’re a wanted man, Gabriel. We could use the tunnels that run from each of the parish buildings, but there’s always someone running around. You know how the children like to run through them.”

“Then there is the Sister Mary Joseph. If she knew that I was here, there’d be hell to pay,” said Emerald.

“Heaven help us. No, I will get the boxes and be back as soon as possible.”

“Father, just to let you know, you will be followed. I might trust you, but the others don’t know you.”

O’Brian noted the tattoo on both Grym and Ref’eal. “These others, they’re the people Max mentioned showing up. The people with the emerald tattoos.”

“Yes.”

Father O’Brian moved from his desk. Though warned, he was still startled to find another tattooed person waiting outside the office door. O’Brian suspected they all sported weapons. It disturbed him that he had acquired an armed guard. He hurried through the halls past members of staff and children. No one commented on the man by his side.

The only detour they made was to pick up a flatbed cart. The storeroom he hid the boxes in was unused and thick with dust. Their activities stirred the dust and caused O’Brian to have a bout of sneezing.

O’Brian was soon back in the office with a cart full of dust-covered boxes. Emerald grabbed the first box and tossed aside the lid. He rummaged through everything. Notebooks, scraps of paper, a cloth napkin, everything was yellowed with age and smelled of dust. Emerald examined each piece. It looked to O’Brian that Emerald knew in an instant what was useless and what was not. Emerald dropped on the floor what was worthless, and stacked everything else in various piles, separated by a system only he understood. He moved onto the next box absorbed in what he was doing and ignored everyone. Father O’Brian had not seen him so single minded since he was a child. He also knew that there was no use trying to interrupt Emerald.

Ref’eal wandered up beside O’Brian and smiled at him. Curiosity got the better of O’Brian, and he used the opportunity to ask a question. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Raphael, is that your given name?”

“Yes, my caregiver named me.”

“After the angel of healing?”

Ref’eal gave the priest a quizzical look before an understanding dawned on his face.

“No, it is pronounced Ref’eal. I noticed you pronounce Ge’berle as Gabriel. They are similar but different. I can understand your confusion between our languages. They sound similar, but Ref’eal means fifty-two.”

Surprise mixed with disappointment. O’Brian had hoped for a more mystical answer. “The boy in the park, I heard that you healed him.”

“Our medical knowledge and technology are more advanced than yours. No miracles, Father, not the way you think. We are neither angels nor demons, just human.”

Emerald’s muttering caught O’Brian’s attention. “What did he say?”

“Not sure, I thought he said moon colony.”

“You mean living on the moon?”

“There is nothing special about that on our world. The moon is nothing but a prison colony.”

O’Brian’s eyes grew wide, and he wasn’t sure if he heard right. “What? Your world? Prison colony?”

“Yes, we are from a world very similar to yours. Different dimension so to speak.” Ref’eal smile twisted in disgust. “Years ago, we tried to settle our moon. It has no atmosphere, so they tunneled it out using the natural rock to trap both air and water. The problem was, and still is, that the moon has a much lower gravity than our planet. This makes an extensive stay, a one way trip. So they made it a prison with the original colonists as the caretakers. Freakish looking people, pale and skinny. They make Wyraitz, our squad leader, look short and fat.”

O’Brian’s felt a little unsteady on his feet. He made his way back to his chair, using the desk for support as he listened to Ref’eal talk. Miss Grim he noticed kept silent, but watched everything. “I hear it’s a nasty place. More so in the lower tunnels. Only lifers and the worst of humanity are supposed to be shipped there. But the definition of worst can change with the corporation you live in. Every once in a while, we hear of an escape attempt. Fools that think that they can come home, only to be crushed by the Earth’s own gravity. It’s the perfect prison.”

“That may or may not change.” Emerald’s voice rang out in the room gaining everyone’s attention. “What do you know about terraforming?”

Ref’eal said, “I know they tried to make La’Tir a living planet. It still has a light atmosphere. I think it had something to do with melting the ice caps.”

“Yes that’s one way, and Corps have attempted it more than once only to be hindered by industrial espionage and sabotage. That is what Pel’askgia is about. It’s about terraforming, but we didn’t want to try La’Tir. It was too obvious and too prone to failure. The Corps have been fighting with each other for centuries over money and power. To have one Corp own an entire planet, a new source of raw material, puts everyone in a panic. So we needed to try it in secret, my grandfather, Ge’berle’s grandfather, started it years ago. He chose to work on Jodar, this world’s equivalent of Jupiter. For years, coded messages have been sent back and forth.”

The entire idea sounded ludicrous to O’Brian. Everything sounded insane. O’Brian wanted a drink but he did not dare try to stand and walk to the cabinet. He did not think his legs would hold him. “You’re colonizing Jupiter?”

“No, not Jupiter itself but one of its moons. Jodar is a gas planet, nothing more than an immature sun. It gives off more energy than it takes in, but it doesn’t give off any light. That was one problem we overcame using various phosphorescent plants and minerals. The last thing I, Ge’berle, was working on before being shot was Pel’askgia. In fact, we were ahead of schedule. The plan was viable. We thought that within the next few years, we could announce we were successful, and the planet would be ready for colonization.”

Ref’eal let out a low whistle. “You were really going to stick it to them.”

“There is more.”

“More?” squeaked O’Brian.

“Yes, anyone could use our success as a blueprint. It wasn’t much of a chore for us to figure out how to adjust the process to terraform other dead planets. If we applied ourselves in the next hundred years, we could turn our solar system from one living planet to at least a dozen..”

“You’re shitting me.” Ref’eal’s shock and wonder was obvious.

“No I’m not, and the coup de grace will be Azai.”

Grym rose from her chair and picked up one of the papers. “Azai? Isn’t Azai just a big acid-rain wasteland?”

“Yes, but with some tweaking, it could become a paradise.”

“Tweaking? No wonder Natas wanted you roasted,” said Ref’eal.

“That’s why Leo’aro is risking everything.”

O’Brian looked from one person to another not comprehending the meaning behind the conversation. He pulled at what little hair he had and murmured a prayer.

“I’ll need Spi’dare to scan these notes as soon as I get them organized. I want to make sure we have a copy before we leave because I don’t want to try lugging these papers around.”

Ref’eal nodded. “He’s been told.”

It was late when Emerald finished his sorting. Satisfied what was left could be recorded in a somewhat reasonable and comprehensive order. “Do you mind, Father? Spi’dare can convert all this paper into a format that’s much easier to deal with. When he’s done, you can put everything back in storage.”

“My office is growing smaller by the minute.”

“Don’t worry. It will only be him. The rest of us will get out of your hair. I’ll warn you that he’s had extra arms surgically implanted, but I don’t think he’ll be needing to use them.”

O’Brian nodded, munching on the last sugar cookie. “You know my door is always open.” The words came automatic to his lips, lost in his own thoughts.

Emerald motioned to the others to proceed him, but stayed in the room. He put his hand over O’Brian’s. “Just because we’re from a different world doesn’t mean we don’t also believe.”

“What?” O’Brian looked up at Emerald.

“I know about the whiskey in the cabinet. I found it years ago. This shouldn’t be a crisis of faith. A sixteenth century monk would probably think a car was a dragon or a demon. This isn’t any different.”

O’Brian’s mind was still in turmoil, but he had to agree with Emerald’s last point. Emerald’s slight smile turned to concern. He asked, “Father, if anything goes wrong, will you help them, the Sav’ine?”

“Sav’ine?”

Emerald nodded toward the office door. “It’s the name for my guards. They’re soldiers doing their job. That’s all. Will you help them?”

“Yes.” Seeing the look on Emerald’s face O’Brian could say nothing less.

“Thank you.”

CHAPTER 30 - GATEWAY TO HELL

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Emerald flipped through the pictures for the umpteenth time before he placed them in an envelope and tucked them into the small suitcase. “I’m not sure what to take and what to leave behind.”

“You have everything you need at home,” said Ag’dia. Her bio suit for once was in its natural state of gray. The white starbursts conformed to her body, and the spiders rested in their places among an assortment of blades. She sat on the edge of the bed, her own gear and rifle resting at her feet.

“Home? It’s not really my home. It was Ge’berle’s home. But everything is there that I need or want. I don’t need my records. There’s nothing to play them on, anyway. Booze, the cellars are full. I guess I’ll have to give up smoking as it’s not an acceptable practice.” Emerald placed his cigarette case on the dresser. “The papers are signed, everything is in order, and taken care of. I just have to decide what I can’t do without. What memories I want to keep.”

“What are you taking?”

“Just a few pictures of friends, a few pieces of jewelry, clothes, and a couple of other mementos.”

“You have a closet full of clothes at home.”

“I know, but I never got to wear the two suits you picked out.” Emerald closed and locked the case. “Maybe I can start a fashion statement. What do you think?”

“Don’t forget the hat. You won’t be able to pull off the look without it.”

“‘Course not.” He took the hat from her hands and placed it on his head. Straightening his coat, Emerald took one last glance in the mirror, and picked up the suitcase.

Ag’dia retrieved her gear, slung the rifle over her shoulder, and exited the room with Emerald. Emerald took one last glance around the apartment before locking it. He handed the key to Gus who was waiting out in the foyer with Spi’dare. Like Ag’dia, Spi’dare’s bio suit was also in its natural state of gray.

The four of them rode the elevator to the ground floor in silence. The liftboy almost overshot the correct floor he was so unnerved by the small group.

Once out into the lobby, they received more strange looks and frightened glances. Spi’dare and Ag’dia remained undisguised with rifles at their sides as they led Emerald out of the doors to the waiting car.

Gus had brought up the rear. “Are you sure you don’t want me and Louis to come with you, Boss?”

Emerald was halfway into the sedan before responding. “No, Gus, you can’t go with us. Your place is here. We’ll leave the cars at the park with the keys in them for you to pick up. I just want to say thanks. You’ve been an excellent bodyguard and an even better friend. Take care.”

“You take care, Boss.” Gus stood on the pavement and did not budge. The cars merged into traffic and headed toward the park.

Ja’kil sat at the wheel of the car with Phalcon next to him. The Sav’ine had learned a lot in a very short time. Emerald sat in the back seat between Spi’dare and Ag’dia.

Emerald drummed his fingers on the suitcase in his lap wishing he had not left his cigarettes behind on the dresser. Thinking about it, he could have waited until they crossed to quit. In the other world he could have gotten access to items to deal with the nicotine craving and agitation. Deep down he knew that that was not the real reason he wanted a smoke. It was Ag’dia. He knew that she would stay with him if he asked. Even if she did not, she was a permanent member of the Sav’ine. A lifer. It was her true reasons for staying that concerned him.

She could have stopped him that first night, when he lost his mind and tried to do the unthinkable. The needle thin probes of spiders could have injured, mangled, or even killed him. The gravity shield, though meant to deflect bullets, could have kept him at bay. It would have been child’s play. Then there was the fact she stayed with him after her true reason for being there was revealed. Emerald feared it was because he was her boss and the all-important package. He admitted to himself that he loved her. It was what she felt for him he preyed on his mind. Emerald cursed himself for not asking her about her feelings back at the apartment. There was no semblance of privacy in the car. The Sav’ine would know the instant he opened his mouth, but he still wished that he could have the illusion of being alone with her.

Spi’dare broke Emerald’s thoughts with a question. “Nervous about going home?”

“Somewhat. In my head, I know that it’s only been a year for you. But for me, it’s both a year and a lifetime. Plus, a whole different set of rules.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be there with you. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Ja’kil’s rough voice interrupted the conversation. “Gateway Park is up ahead. We should have plenty of time to set up before the crossing.” He chuckled before saying, “Gateway Park, very appropriate name.”

“Yes it is.” Emerald drummed his fingers on the suitcase. They were stilled by Ag’dia’s hand on his. Surprised, he looked at her and saw the uncertainty in her eyes, the question unasked. He grasped hold of her hand bringing it to his lips. “Stay with me. Not because you have to, but because you want to.”

Spi’dare and the others ignored the conversation and looked out the windows of the car. Ag’dia leaned into Emerald. “I want to.” Unshed tears shone in her eyes when she kissed him.

They left the cars at the edge of the park leaving the keys in the ignitions. No one hassled them about who they were or why they were there. The rifles they carried, though strange looking, were unmistakable. Anyone they came in contact with gave them a wide berth. They left the main path and went into the trees to a small clearing. Each Sav’ine took up a watchful position. Spi’dare stepped into the center of the clearing and knelt on the ground. The Gate Key came alive and its tentacles disengaged from Spi’dare’s back. It lowered itself to the ground, and using its crab style appendages on its underbelly, crawled into position. Spi’dare moved back and monitored its progress on the alternate control link. All went well as the tentacles waved back and forth searching the air for the weak spot. When it found one, the articulating arms pierced the air. It stretched it, creating a small shining point among the shade of the trees. For a few moments, everything was quiet.

Spi’dare’s swearing was the first hint of a problem. “Shit, power surge, but it’s not coming from the squid.” The tear had only opened a few feet before he spoke.

They heard engines rumbling in the distance. The sound grew louder among the trees.

Realization of the danger they face dawned on Emerald. “It’s a trap! Why follow when they can get us on the way back? Grab the squid. We have to get out of here before they come through.”

Spi’dare powered off the Gate Key. Ag’dia snatched it from the ground, letting it attach itself to her front like a grasping child.

***

Ref’eal looked on as the tear they opened continued to enlarge. It changed in color and crackled as it was ripped open from the other side. Emerald and Grym raced back toward the cars. Ref’eal and Wyraitz followed them intending to cover their back, while keeping the tear in sight. The others took up defensive positions around the portal. They did not know what to expect, but Ref’eal suspected the Sav’ine were ill prepared for what was to come.

Within seconds, the tear ripped wide open. It was jagged and much larger than a man. The scream of engines grew louder as several motorcycles raced through the tear. They carried two soldiers apiece. One soldier drove while the other rained a fire of bullets on the Sav’ine. Three cyclists spotted and followed the fleeing figures and were met with gunfire in return from Ref’eal and Wyraitz. One cycle crashed to the ground, with a bullet through the driver’s visor, throwing its passenger.

“Keep going, Grym. Keep him safe,” said Ref’eal. He listened to the Link and heard Wyraitz’s commands as clear as he heard Grym telling the others that they had reached the car. It was her responsibility now to keep the Gate Key and Emerald safe.

The others held back, relaying information about their enemies’ weak spots when they found them. The Sav’ine used the trees, boulders, and other parts of the landscape to hide behind and shield themselves. They needed to conserve the energy of the bio suits for their gravity shields.

Ja’kil’s anger shot over the link when he missed the first armored vehicle to come through the gate. He did not miss the second. The squash launcher hit the target. Its charge stuck to the shell of the vehicle and ate into the armor before it blew a hole inward. Using the vehicle’s own metal shielding as shrapnel, it shredded those inside and brought the machine to a halt. The vehicle created a barrier in front of the huge tear and another cycle coming in blind through the opening crashed into it. It did not stop the uninjured main gunner at the back of the vehicle from targeting the others. Energy bursts hit Ja’kil more than once before Ruesh was able to dispense with the gunner using a well-tossed grenade.

“We have to stop them from coming through.”

“There’s too many. Fall back now!” said Wyraitz.

Ruesh relayed his own decision along with his plans. Ref’eal could not block the screams of protest in time and sound pounded in his head. Nothing any of them said could dissuaded him. Ref’eal spotted Ruesh as he ran toward the Gate careful not to touch the edges of the tear.

They could all hear the disruptor Ruesh had engaged and left attached to his bio suit count the seconds to detonation. For a split second, it was as if the universe screeched in sudden pain. A crack of lightning ignited the air around the opening in blinding brilliance before warping anything within range. It turned trees into twisted stone, and rock into metal. To the living, it imparted a screaming boiling death. Everything within twenty feet of the opening, in an instant, became warped as the hole sealed itself. A delicate webbing of charred blackness hung in the air before a gust of wind scattered its ashes.

Ref’eal felt a hollow ache within him but he did not have the time to dwell on it. The remaining interlopers, now disoriented by the destruction of their only means home, fell to the Sav’ine’s tenacity.

Greevez, left arm bleeding, showed no pity as she executed the remaining wounded.

Ref’eal raced to Ja’kil’s side. The successive energy bolts had ripped at Ja’kil’s body overloading the bio suit. Life was still faint within him as Ref’eal fought to stop the bleeding.

“Keep fighting, Ja’kil. You’ve got to keep fighting. If we can get you to the body shop, they can have you fixed up in no time.”

“I don’t want to be like Ruesh and Spi’dare.”

“You don’t have to be. All your parts are here.” Ref’eal knew Ja’kil could taste his own blood, feel his seared and burning flesh. The Link made it possible to share the experience.

“Liar. Show me, Ref’eal. Prove it.”

Ref’eal relented.

In a last burst of life, Ja’kil mentally reached out to touch each of the other members before withdrawing. Ref’eal shuddered at the emptiness he felt. It was the second time that day he experienced death through the Link. Both Ja’kil and Ruesh had been a part of his life for many years. They were more than friends, and more than just family. He steeled himself against his emotional pain and the collective agony of the others in order to attend to them. Greevez would lose her arm, and Phalcon had more than a few holes to bandage. The others had minor damage. Spi’dare dragged himself onto Wyraitz’s back, his biomechanical legs left behind, crushed under the trunk of a fallen tree.

Wyraitz said, “See if any of the bikes are still usable. We need to catch up to Grym and Emerald fast. They can’t outrun that vehicle for long even with the altered engine. Not to mention that the authorities will be on their way and will be no help.”

CHAPTER 31 - CHASE AND HYDE

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They raced toward the waiting cars. The battle raged behind them.

Ag’dia jumped into the back seat “You drive. I’ll cover.” She disengaged the Gate Key from her body and placed it on the floorboard. Emerald realized he still carried his suitcase. He tossed it on the front seat, and slid in behind the wheel. Turning the key in the ignition, he floored it. The vehicle jumped forward and shot into traffic just as two motorcycles came barreling out of the woods in pursuit. Behind the cycles trailed a small armored vehicle. Emerald weaved in and out of traffic. Ag’dia shattered the back window and fired. Unlike the larger vehicle, the surrounding cars did not hinder the cycles, and they overtook the car.

“I wish I had Phalcon’s eyes,” said Ag’dia.

Emerald almost asked her why before remembering Phalcon had implants. His eyes could judge wind speed and movement within centimeters for a good shot. On a moving vehicle they would have been invaluable.

“Can’t this heap move any faster?”

Ag’dia’s voice echoed his own fear and frustration as bullets hit the side of the car. “This isn’t a race car, and the traffic isn’t cooperating.”

“Tortoises are faster.”

A lucky shot hit the closest cycle, and it went down throwing both driver and passenger into the surrounding traffic. Using the grenade launcher mounted under the rifle barrel, she blew up the cargo of an oncoming beer truck. It put enough shrapnel into the second cycle’s way to make the vehicle wipe out and injure, if not kill, the riders.

Emerald said a prayer that the driver of the truck could get out of the cab in time.

The thick metal of their own sedan may have helped shield them from the cycle’s bullets, but the armored vehicle held an energy rifle. Emerald knew that if that rifle scored a direct hit, it would open them up like a tin can.

Panic ruled the streets as the armored truck barreled down the road almost pushing the cars out of its way. More than one shot from the cannon had grazed their vehicle only to ignite the one next to them. Emerald turned down an alley as he sped toward the waterfront. The sides of the sedan screeched as the brickwork ground the paint off the sides. Unlike the Ford, the truck had a wider base and had to drive around the block. It gained them a few extra seconds as a desperate idea formed in Emerald’s head.

“If we don’t do something quick, we’re cooked,” said Grym. “My shields can’t take that rifle. How the hell did they find us?”

Emerald knew how foolish they had been. He and Spi’dare should not have bothered with secrecy. They should have looked for a point deep within Tivo’llo C’ech territory to return. Nat’con Sh’ec did not need to follow them through time and space if they returned within unaffiliated boundaries. They could sit back and wait for the Sav’ine to come back, package in hand. If someone knew when and where the Sav’ine left, factoring in the time constraints, they could figure out the most likely reentry points. They could also monitor for other possible, less obvious, rifts. All they had to do then was sit back and wait for Emerald and his guard to come to them. It was simple. Emerald cursed himself for not realizing the obvious.

His heart jumped when Ag’dia screamed. Emerald whipped around to see if she was all right.

“Ag’dia?”

“Ruesh is dead. He sealed the tear, but he’s dead. Ja’kil is dying. I can’t hear him. Sons of bitches!” She yelled firing her rifle out the back window. Her death head mask may have covered her features and distorted her voice, but it could not conceal her pain and anger.

Emerald glanced in the rear view mirror at the pursuing vehicle. Time was closing in on them. He reached for the suitcase beside him making sure he could grab it when they exited.

“Get ready to bail out and soon. We’re almost there.”

Ag’dia grabbed the Gate Key off the floorboards and secured it onto her front once again.

When they swerved into the open doors of an old warehouse, he yelled, “Get out, now!”

The doors of the sedan opened. They both bailed out of the car in different directions rolling out onto the ground. The car continued to roll through the building. It almost made it out the other side before an energy bolt scored a direct hit turning it and its gas tank into a blazing inferno. What few workers that were in the building fled for their lives while Emerald and Ag’dia hid among the boxes and crates.

***

Grym watched and waited as the truck came to a halt. The driver and passenger exited the vehicle. They inspected the wreckage of the sedan. Unlike the Sav’ine’s advanced bio suits, the driver, passenger, and machine gunner wore their world’s conventional body armor. Grym knew where the soft spots were, but hitting the weak points was difficult. There was only one grenade left in the launcher. She knew she had better make good on it. Grym circled around the truck searching for a better shot. She locked onto the man still standing ready at the gun, and fired a direct hit scattering both gun and gunner. In the race across the open space behind the vehicle toward Emerald, she dodged the bullets of the two other soldiers. The soft alarm from her bio suit nagged at the back of her mind, warning her of the energy drain and its impending shutdown.

***

“Very nice, Ge’berle, but you should have stayed hidden.”

“Natas?”

“The name’s Co’re. You don’t think just anyone would be sent to take care of you? Not this time. You shouldn’t have tried to come back, Ge’berle. You could have lived out the rest of your years in comfort here.”

“You crazy son of a bitch, you had to come get me, didn’t you?”

“We couldn’t let another underling screw this up again. We had to make certain you were dead and to do that one must tackle matters with one’s own hands.”

Emerald racked his brain trying to remember who Co’re was and where he had heard the name. He was Natas’ brother. “You stupid fool. You’re trapped here, you know. The tear is sealed. Your Gate Key is destroyed. Natas gave you a one way ticket. When you think about it that’s one way to get rid of the competition.”

“How could you possibly know that the gate is sealed?”

How would he know? Emerald knew the Link was experimental, but plenty of other forms of communication existed. “Where is your backup? Surely, you had more than the two cycles that are now spread over the pavement.”

Co’re laughed at Emerald’s taunts. “A disturbing thought. But if I’m right, you still possess your own Gate Key, and the information regarding the Pel’askgia project. Such an odd name, I’ve never heard of such a thing. It tells nothing of what is so vital to Tivo’llo C’ech. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share the information on it.”

“Not on your life, you mad man,” said Emerald.

A series of gunfire sounded to his left, and he heard Ag’dia scream.

“Ag’dia! Damn it, Ag’dia, are you all right?” Emerald could not keep the fear out of his voice. The answering silence was maddening. “Oh God, Ag’dia. Not you. Let it be anyone but you.”

Emerald looked at the suitcase he still gripped in his hand. His crazy scheme to save them both did not seemed to matter. If Co’re plugged him at that moment, he no longer cared. He could hear Co’re’s voice still ranting. The large building now burned having caught fire from the car.

“Your last bodyguard has been terminated. You may as well come out Ge’berle. Don’t make this any more difficult on yourself. I’ll tell you what. If you turn over your Gate Key and the Pel’askgia project, I promise to spare your life. You can live out the rest of your life on this pathetic little world as your very own private prison. How does that sound?”

“Like a deal.” Emerald stepped out from the surrounding crates. His open arms held up in surrender. He clutched the suitcase in his left hand.

Co’re eyed him and the case before asking, “Is that it? Pel’askgia?”

“Yes.”

“Put it down and step away.” Co’re emphasized his words with the gun in his hand.

Emerald placed the suitcase on the concrete floor of the warehouse and stepped back. In the process he lowered his arms. He spotted movement out the corner of his eye and recognized the uniform of the Nat’Con She’ec corporation.

Co’re stepped forward and dropped to his knees. Still training the gun on Emerald. He pulled the case toward him, opened it, and rifled through its contents. The dark sneer on his face twisted in anger as he tossed the items aside. “Where is it? Thumb drive? Microchip? Where is it hiding? Don’t fool with me, Ge’berle. I’m not in the mood for games.”

“I’m not Ge’berle.”

Two shots rang out once more in the building. Blood and brain matter splattered across the concrete and the open suitcase.

“He should have paid more attention to what his personnel looked like.”

Emerald held the revolver before him unfired. He stood speechless as he watched the brown tones of the Nat’con Sh’ec uniform turn gray. White starbursts appeared then halted, caught somewhere in the middle of the two uniforms. On the concrete between the two lay the still form of Co’re.

With minor difficulty, Ag’dia pulled away the death head mask from her face.

Relief swept through Emerald. He holstered his pistol and stepped forward.

When he gathered Ag’dia into his arms she flinched. “Careful. He winged me.”

“I thought he killed you.”

“I’m good, no worries. What were you planning?”

“To shoot him.”

“He would have gotten you first.”

“As long as I killed him, I didn’t care.”

Emerald startled at the sound of more cycles coming toward them.

“It’s all right,” said Ag’dia. “It’s just Wyraitz and Ref’eal. The others are heading to Our Lady of Sorrows. We’re to meet them there.”

“Right back to the beginning.” Emerald let go of Ag’dia long enough to pick up the pictures, jewels, and a few other things that had scattered on the ground. He ignored the blood and put them in his pockets before moving out of the building.

Wyraitz and Ref’eal pulled up on cycles just outside the building. “You left a path a blind man could follow.” said Wyraitz.

“Couldn’t be helped,” said Ag’dia.

Wyraitz attached a small canister to a spider pulled from his suit. He dropped it on the ground but did not bother to watch it scurry back into the building. It headed toward the armored vehicle dragging the canister like a massive egg sack behind it.

Emerald and Ag’dia mounted the cycles behind Ref’eal and Wyraitz. They sped down the road past several oncoming police cars as another explosion ripped through the burning building.

The two cycles weaved in and out of traffic, through alleyways and down steps. The police cars that attempted to give chase could not match their speed and agility.

When they got to Our Lady of Sorrows they hid the cycles under a large tarp in one of the old tool sheds at the back of the property and made their way toward the nearest building. Guided by the Link, they were directed to the other squad members who lay tucked away in the basement of the church’s sick ward. Father O’Brian was with them along with a young nun. She fussed over Phalcon’s silent, bandaged, form. Greevez sat on the edge of one of the steel framed beds. The ruins of her arm bound tight to her body. Spi’dare fidgeted on the floor using all six arms to move around. He was a demented windup toy without his legs. No words were spoken between the Sav’ine. Ag’dia handed the Gate Key back to Spi’dare allowing Ref’eal to check her wounds. Once bandaged, he pronounced her fine.

Emerald stepped toward Father O’Brian, unsure of what to say. Standing before the old priest, the years melted away. He was again the young boy, frustrated and unable to be understood.

“What happened, Gabriel? When they showed up without you, I didn’t know what to think.”

“We were trying to get back home when we were attacked. Another failed attempt to get rid of me. Thank you for taking us in. You can’t mention we’re here to anybody except Max. We’ll try not to stay too long.”

“How long until we can attempt another crossing?” asked Wyraitz.

“I won’t know until I start the calculations, why?”

“Phalcon may need more help than this world can give. For Spi’dare and Greevez, a trip to the body shop is needed. Aside from that, we’re short on ammunition and have only a few grenades and spiders left. We can’t deal with another assault. We’ve lost two. I don’t want to lose any more.”

“Understood.” Emerald nodded to Wyraitz before turning his attention back to O’Brian. “Can you keep our presence here a secret?”

“I’ll do what I can, but I won’t endanger the children.”

“I’m not asking you to. We just need a place to hide for a few days before we can move. We’ll be out of your hair as quick as we can, promise.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said O’Brian.

“If you see Max, tell him I’m ok.”

“I will.”

“Thank you.”

For several hours, both Spi’dare and Emerald worked on the calculations for the next crossover. Ref’eal watched over his patients and talked to Wyraitz.

When they heard a commotion outside in the hall, they all were on alert. Max burst through the door followed by Father O’Brian.

Max asked, “What the hell happened?”

“Max,” said Emerald. He rose from the table.

“Gateway Park is burning, so are several warehouses at the dock. The firemen are still trying to put the fires out. There is a line of destruction running between them, and several people were killed. God knows how many are injured. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear every eyewitness was crazy.”

“It was Natas’ men, Max. When we tried to cross, they were there waiting for us. Ruesh and Ja’kil are dead. Phalcon is full of holes. Greevez’s arm is useless. At least the rest of them are still standing. Sort of.” Emerald glanced at Spi’dare perched in a chair.

“Shit, Gabby, the whole city is looking for you. When someone identified you as driving the car being chased, the D.A. went on the warpath. He wants your head on a platter this time.”

“Just give us a few days, Max. Two weeks at the most. We’ll attempt another crossing and be gone.”

“What if this Natas guy comes after you again?”

“He won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because we left his brother’s brains all over the warehouse floor. The one where the original fire started. When we cross, it will be in an area Natas can’t get to without a fight. We’ll cause one hell of a scene but with any luck we’ll be able to pawn it off as theatrics.”

Emerald did not tell Max that he had only a fifty-fifty chance of being right. Natas most likely planned to shoot his brother as soon as he had the information he wanted. He would not put it past Natas to have an assassin planted near their crossing ready to murder Emerald. “Listen, Max, with his brother dead, the sooner we cross the better. Once his corporation realizes their second in command is gone, there will be a lot of questions and accusations. If we can cross and get to Tivo’llo C’ech, we can launch a campaign against Natas to take his Corp down. If we can’t do that, at least we can try to acquire the division that knows about the separate worlds. If we have to lock up the information and throw away the key to keep everyone safe, we will. But we have to get back. Otherwise, Lord knows what will happen.”

Max ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “That’s a lot of ifs. This is insane, Gabby. I could lose my job just knowing you’re here. Hell, the way Anderson is acting, he may just lock me up for knowing you.”

“I’m sorry, Max. I really am. I wish I could have prevented this.”

“Jesus, Gabby.” Max, deflated, sunk into a chair at the table where Spi’dare and Emerald had been working. Emerald sat back in his seat and motioned Father O’Brian to join them. The others in the room watched, waited, and listened.

Max rapped his knuckles on the table. “What is it that’s locked inside your head that this guy wants so bad?”

“We called it the Pel’askgia project, and it will set my world on its ear,” said Emerald.

“You still have the whole city looking for you. The one on this world.”

“So we will stay here as long as we can. Father said we could.”

Father O’Brian nodded.

“Right now we need to be calculating a safe passage, so we’ll be busy. We’ll be able to keep out of everyone’s hair.”

“What do I tell my boss about you, and what do I tell Anderson?”

“I take it they don’t believe I’m out of the illegal gaming business?”

Max gave a heavy sigh. “After today, I’m not sure what they believe.”

“Nat’con Sh’ec came through with vehicles, energy cannons, weapons, armor, and God knows what else. Did anyone bother looking at any of it? We are talking advanced technology, years beyond what you have. The only thing that idiot is thinking is that, because I’m being chased, I am to blame for the destruction? How did this man ever get into office?”

“You mentioned his backers once.”

“Good point.”

Max leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Listen, I’m not sure if anyone ever bothered to look that close at everything. A lot of it’s destroyed. Anderson is hot under the collar and gunning for you. The sooner you get out of here the better.”

“What about the gambling halls? Did you get the plans? A few raids should keep him busy for a while.”

“I thought you shut them down? I got the box this morning just before your little parade started, and it’s still at home unopened.”

“Just because I shut everything down doesn’t mean the guys who managed them didn’t open them back up. My guys knew I was leaving town and wasn’t returning. Every place brought in a lot of money, and for some people money can be a very difficult thing to give up.”

Max ran his fingers through his hair until it stuck up at odd angles. “I’ll see what I can do. If nothing more, it may keep him busy for a while. I’ll have some serious explaining to do about why and how I managed to get the blueprints. I doubt if he’ll believe anything good about you.”

Emerald gave him an impish grin. “I also included information on a few places the competition has. You can always say you have good contacts or were just lucky enough to find a disgruntled employee.” His smile faded with the rise of darker thoughts. “If certain heads in the government find out about the advance tech too quick, things around here will get more difficult for everyone involved.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it for a minute. Certain people may want information on what wasn’t destroyed. Aside from me, and what is left of the Sav’ine, no one else is left to explain it. Wyraitz destroyed the truck. As for the energy rifle, even if they could reassemble it, the way that guy was using it, I’m guessing it was fully discharged. It is the whole slew of bodies left at the park I am more concerned with. Two Sav’ine died there, Ja’kil and Ruesh, and I don’t think that there was any time to take care of them.”

Max grew thoughtful. “The information I got was sketchy. They’re still trying to sort everything out, but from what little I heard, your guys were nowhere to be found. There must not have been much left of them.”

“There wouldn’t have been any remains,” said Ref’eal. His interruption gained everyone’s attention. “Our bio suits have a fail-safe. It’s because we can’t risk our technology falling into the wrong hands. Our suits are made specific for the individual, and the technology that makes them possible can register when its host has ceased to exist. When Ja’kil died, it would have triggered the self-destruct. Even damaged, the suit would still retain enough energy to cause it to feed on itself, destroying it and the host’s remains. The process had already started before we split up and left the park. As for Ruesh, he would have been closest to the tear when it imploded.”

Max looked from one to the other before asking. “You said, ‘host’, like the things are alive?”

“Yes.” Ref’eal’s clothing changed to the color and texture of the wall behind him, a chameleon on a brick. “Each one is built to the person who wears it and is controlled by our thoughts. Only the person it is made for can use it. By wiring it to us, it becomes a part of us, feeding off of us. It’s a biomechanical parasite or symbiont. It uses our body’s own energy to power it. Sometimes an outside source is required when we expend too much of its power. A good example of a high energy drain is using the grav shields when bullets are flying. The bio suits in return, clothe us, protect us, and hide us. It can even bandage our wounds, at least minor ones.” Ref’eal glanced over at Phalcon.

“Do all your soldiers have those?”

“No. They are too expensive for general use, and are only made by Tivo’llo C’ech. They are top secret and still in the experimental stage. Besides, not too many people are agreeable to a scientist messing around and sticking wire probes into their brains. The scientists are working on that too. Think of it as a wireless communication link.”

Max stared open-mouthed at Ref’eal. “You mean you’re being experimented on?”

“In a nutshell, but it makes life interesting.”

“That’s crazy.”

Ref’eal shrugged his shoulders. “That is why we are the Sav’ine.”

“Damn, you guys are a piece of work.”

Wyraitz had also come to the table. “The need for secrecy is a main staple in our way of life. There are a few willing to sacrifice much with little or no recognition. Remember, Mr. Carver, both our worlds’ existence relies on our success.”

Max did not know what to think of Wyraitz’s stoic explanation.

“We do, we die, and in the end, others live because of us.”

Ref’eal’s calm voice and sad smile bothered Emerald, but he was not going to complicate matters by trying to explain the Sav’ine. “Max, do you mind seeing Mr. McKay for me? I’ll need a new suit considering my other clothes were ruined when we were ambushed. You can use this as payment.” He removed the emerald stickpin off his jacket and handed it to Max. “We’re figuring it will be at least another week to ten days before we can think of attempting another crossing.”

Neither Max nor Father O’Brian stayed much longer. They left Emerald to work on the calculations. The rest of the Guard, who were not sleeping or standing on watch, found other small amusements to while away the time.

It was late when Emerald finished his first set of calculations. Satisfied that what was left could wait for the morning, he rose from the table. Stiffened muscles pained him as he stretched and rubbed his aching back. Emerald moved off to one of the small beds near the corner of the room. Two of the beds were shoved side by side, and Ag’dia was lying on one of them.

When he removed his jacket and shoes, he thought of how accepting the others were with his and Ag’dia’s relationship. There was no scorn or reprimand, only a quiet acceptance. He removed his dress shirt, the already loosened tie, and hung them on the nearest chair before sitting on the cot. He reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from Ag’dia’s face. She opened her eyes giving him a weak smile.

“Are you feeling ok?”

Ag’dia said, “I’m just queasy, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” He checked her forehead, but it did not feel as if she had a fever.

“My wound is fine.” She took his hand pulling it from her forehead. “There is no infection.”

“Then why are you sick?”

In the dim light of a single floor lamp left on for him while he worked, Emerald could see the hesitation in her eyes.

“There are so many other concerns it almost seemed trivial.”

Emerald smiled and brushed back her hair. “What are you babbling about?”

She bit her lip. Taking his hand, she placed it palm open onto her stomach spreading her own fingers on top of his own.

The realization dawned on Emerald. Shocked mixed with wonder. It took a moment for him to regain his voice and speak. “Are you sure?”

“Ref’eal double checked to be sure.”

“When were you planning on telling me?”

“I had to come to terms with it myself. This was unexpected, and I didn’t know what you would do. I still don’t.”

Emerald laid down beside her, pulling her to him as best he could on the lumpy and worn out mattress. The cushion provided little padding from the iron springs underneath the thin layer.

“Whatever we decide, we will do it together, ok?”

Her relief shown in her eyes. “Ok.”

Emerald spanned his hand over her still flat stomach. “Have you thought of any names yet?”

“No. Everyone has been bombarding me with names, but—”

“Everybody? You mean I’m the last to know?”

“Sorry. Yes. It’s the price of being linked to others. You find it hard to keep a secret. Wyraitz figured that you would want an heir. He has a list compiled of people to ask to be guardsman. Ja’kil, before he died, was joking on what color the gemstone should be.”

“We can have every color in the rainbow if you want.”

The confused look Ag’dia gave Emerald prodded him to reassure her. “I told you, I want you with me always. I’m in love with you, you know.” He brushed away the tears that sprang unbidden into her eyes. They ignored the creak of the springs and the uncomfortable beds as she curled closer to him. A sense of relief and joy washed over Emerald, and he hoped over Ag’dia as well.

CHAPTER 32 – CORNERED

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For several days Emerald and Spi’dare kept their heads together while the others took turns standing watch. The safest crossing was still days away, but they planned alternate routes in case they could not wait. Emerald had tried to explain the time and place calculations to both Max and Father O’Brian, but had received blank looks in return.

Max stopped by with the requested items. “Knock, knock.”

“Hi, Max.”

“Hi, Gabby. That McKay fellow finished up quick. He fussed because you couldn’t come in for adjustments.”

Emerald took the box Max was holding and placed it on the table. “McKay is a perfectionist. What’s all this other stuff?”

“Donations. I’m being followed. Ted’s been acting funny. I’m sure he’s been ordered to spy on me.”

“It’s not sitting well with him, is it?”

“I hope not. Ted’s a good cop, and a good friend.”

“And he despises Anderson.”

“What cop doesn’t?”

Emerald pulled the donated items out of the box and uncovered a new hat. He picked it up and put it on his head. “You thought of everything.”

“Marcy does. Hell, she won’t let me leave the house if she suspects I have a hole in my sock.”

“You told her everything?”

“Not everything, but I swear the woman can read my mind.” Max ran his fingers through his hair. “Gus asked about you. He knows you haven’t left the city.”

“I think everyone knows I haven’t left. How is Gus?”

“He’s waiting for orders.”

Emerald smiled. “He would be. We’ll need him if we’re to get to the next crossing site. The safest crossing point we’ve found is outside the city limits. How to get there is the problem. Can you get a message to Gus?”

“Sure.”

“He can pick us up at the last minute. Spi’dare and I calculated several other exit points, but most are risky. They either have stability problems or make good ambush sites.”

“It’s still mumbo jumbo to me.”

“I know, just trust me. We’re trying to find the fastest and safest way.”

Max spotted the newspaper on the table and read the headlines. “I see Father’s bringing you the paper.”

“Sister Theresa brings them when she delivers the food.”

“And she hasn’t told you know who?”

“I don’t think they agree with each other.” Emerald grinned at Max. “You can say her name, you know.”

“I don’t want to tempt fate. And you were right about the gambling halls. A few of your old employees couldn’t resist the money.”

“So I’ve read from the headlines. But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

Max shuffled his feet and put his hands in his pockets. “The John and Jane Does in the morgue. They’re not right.”

“I didn’t think they were.”

“What’s wrong with them? How did they get like that?”

Emerald shook his head and dropped his new hat on the table. “I’m not going to explain gene splicing and cybernetics to you. Tivo’llo C’ech isn’t the only Corp known to buy defective soldiers from the Clans.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s an appalling practice. I’ll admit that.” Emerald looked away from Max. “The customs are different there.”

“You mind explaining that?”

“Clans are the equivalent of military personnel. They contract with the various corporations on a number of different levels.” Emerald glanced over to where several of the Sav’ine sat playing cards. “Clans tend to terminate unwanted soldiers. A few are sold to Corps and used as lab rats.”

“And they allow that?” yelled Max.

The others in the room stopped what they were doing and looked over at the pair.

“Keep your voice down, Max. I know it sounds terrible to us, but it’s perfectly legal there. Where do you think the Sav’ine came from? The only difference is that Wyraitz asked them to join. Most don’t get the choice.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“There are things on this world they’d consider barbaric. It’s a different culture.”

***

Father O’Brian’s loud objections gave them warning enough when D.A. Anderson, along with several uniformed police, searched the church buildings.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Anderson. What makes you think he’s here?” O’Brian rattled the keys and unlocked the door to a room in the basement of the hospital wing. A few stripped beds lined the room.

Anderson pushed by the old priest followed by the officers. A few had the decency to look apologetic.

One officer picked up a small basket. It contained a piece of uneaten dried bread. “Somebody been eating in here?”

“Must be one of the children.”

“The door was locked.”

Father O’Brian gave the officer a sad look. “As much as we try, not all of our charges are angels.”

“Blimey, get a load of these.” An officer stood in front of several marble statues tucked into the corner of the room. They were draped in sheets to keep off the dust. Either the sheets or the positions they held hid most of their stone faces. One figure lay cradled in the arms of another on the floor with its arms across its chest. It looked as if the one was mourning the death of the other. The remaining statues held poses with hands clasped in prayer or over their hearts in supplication. A single angel stood to the side, head held high and uncovered. It smiled in jubilation. Its blank eyes and white face laughing at an unknown joke.

“Lifelike.” The comment came from one of the police officers, and all but sent the old priest into a hysterical bout of laughter. O’Brian recognized the mask of Ref’eal. He knew that no statues, marble or otherwise, had ever been stored in the room. After Anderson’s men finished searching the room, Father O’Brian locked the door behind them with relief. He continued with his blustering objections if only to keep up appearances.

“I will be sending a formal complaint to your superiors Anderson. Your behavior is unnecessary and uncalled for.”

Anderson looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “Need I remind you, Father, that there is a penalty for harboring a known criminal?”

In O’Brian’s mind it took forever for the police to finish the search and leave the premises. He and Sister Theresa could hardly keep from jumping at even the slightest noise as they made their way into the basement. The sister stood lookout in the hall while O’Brian unlocked the door, calling to those he suspected were still inside the room.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes, Father.” Emerald stood in the middle of the room with the others close around him. They followed him out the door. Phalcon was supported on either side by Grym and Ref’eal. Spi’dare clung to Wyraitz’s back.

“I’m uncertain how they found out you were staying here, but I have my suspicions. They found the machines out back in the shed and confiscated them. Max stayed behind. He is keeping a watch on the sentry posted out front. Gus snuck in during the commotion. He refused to leave until he saw you were all right. They’re both waiting in the church proper.”

“We can’t stay here anymore,” said Emerald.

“No, I guess not, but I can’t see how we can get you out of here unnoticed,” said O’Brian. He guided the small party along the hallway and into a series of underground passageways. Each passage connected to another building on the property. “That was a nice trick you did, looking like statues.”

Emerald grinned. “There’s nothing like hiding in plain sight.”

“Where were you?”

“Stuffed into the corner hoping no one would get the bright idea of moving a bunch of marble statues.”

O’Brian chuckled. “I swear, when I realized what you’d done, I almost fainted. Every time someone came even close to you, I was in a panic. Anderson is really after you. It’s like an obsession with him. From what Max was telling me, he’s burning every bridge he has. I don’t think he realizes that everything he’s built is teetering on the edge of a cliff. He is an elected official, and this parish holds a lot of voters. When they hear about this, he may well find his career falling down around him in flames. I don’t know too many people who’d care for the idea of him barging into a church and ordering everyone around. Or demanding we hand over someone who asked for sanctuary.”

“I thought sanctuary only applied to the church proper?”

“I don’t think we can supply sanctuary, but most people still believe we can.”

At the end of the passage, they mounted a narrow winding stair that went past a heavy wooden door leading into the church vestibule. They headed to the center aisle. Max and Gus rushed to meet them both talking at once.

“You ok, Boss?”

“That was damn close.”

“Anderson has the whole building surrounded,” said Gus.

Max said, “He has the whole police force camped outside. A couple of federal boys showed up yesterday asking questions.”

“You’re at the top of the most-wanted list.”

Emerald held up his hands in an attempt to slow the flow of information. “Guys, one thing at a time. First, can we get out of here; and second, can we get to the primary tear site?”

“Not a chance in hell. Uh, sorry Father.” Gus blushed and looked around the church.

O’Brian smiled. “It’s all right. No harm done.”

Max pointed his thumb at Gus. “It’s like he said, the building and the grounds are covered. No one will be able to scratch their nose without Anderson hearing about it. Besides, I don’t think he’s in the mood to wait the three days for you to leave.”

“He’s was always adamant on catching me, but I guess he’s getting worse.”

“Off the deep end is more like it. He was ready to throw me in the clink if I so much as looked at him funny. Lucky for me, I’ve got a good reputation and better friends.”

“We’ll have to try a hard tap,” said Emerald.

“Are you nuts? That will burn the squid. We’ll get one chance, that’s it.” Spi’dare’s objection echoed through the empty church. His outburst was followed by nervous shuffles of those present.

Emerald looked back at the Sav’ine. “If we step outside, even if we were to go out guns blazing, what kind of chance do you think we would have? Phalcon can’t stand, let alone walk. Spi’dare, you have to be carried, Greevez has only one arm, and I’m not risking Grym being shot.”

“But you said that you no longer own the clubs. What can he hold you on?” Most of what they discussed mystified O’Brian. What he did understand was that whatever Emerald was suggesting, it was dangerous.

“Destruction of property for starters. Co’re’s little ambush painted a nice bright target on my back. Even if I turned myself in, I’d need more than just a good lawyer to keep me from disappearing into a governmental black hole.”

“What’s he going to do, label you as a communist spy?” Gus blinked and frowned. “Wait, a minute. I don’t understand why the government wants to make you disappear?”

“Technology and advanced weaponry,” said Spi’dare.

“That’s part of it, but none of that matters right now,” said Emerald. He ran his fingers through his hair and scowled. “We at least need to get one person across. They need to tell the council Nat’con Sh’ec’s second in command is dead and deliver the information on Pel’askgia. Max, you said yourself that the feds are showing up asking questions. It has been two weeks, plenty of time to examine the bodies and their equipment and realize that there is something not right about any of it. I may not know anything about Nat’con Sh’ec’s secret projects, but I have enough knowledge of Tivo’llo C’ech to advance this world a hundred years. I’m a person of interest and that’s not a good thing.”

While everyone was talking, O’Brian noticed Spi’dare drop to the floor. His fingers flew over the keys of the strange little notebook he carried. Spi’dare’s voice was sharp when he lifted his head from the book. “Dawn.”

Everyone stopped to look at him sitting on the cold tiled floor.

“Where’s your legs?” asked Gus. His eyes were wide in surprise.

“I lost the legs. The body shop will give me new ones when we get home.” Spi’dare waved the notebook over his head and looked at Emerald. “I found your file. You were afraid that this would happen, weren’t you?”

Emerald nodded. Spi’dare shut the notebook and shoved it back into his pocket. “We can bust a crack, but like I said, it will burn out the squid. It’s a one shot deal and dangerous.”

Max scratched his head. His eyes glancing from one man to the other. “Why?”

Spi’dare frowned and shook his head. “Because unlike a tear, a crack takes much more energy. If the squid dies before we get across, the crack will slam shut. Heaven forbid if anyone is in the middle of a crossing. If that happens, they get to be part of the sidewalk if they’re lucky. That’s only one of the thousands of things that can go wrong. You sure you want to try this, Sir?”

“I did the calculations as an option.”

Spi’dare’s voice was flat. “In an emergency.”

“What would you call this?” Emerald spread his hands and frowned. “Have you got the copies made?”

“Yes.” Spi’dare sighed and pulled six black pencil thin objects, no longer than three inches, out of his pocket. He handed them over to Greevez who passed them out to the Sav’ine. Each Sav’ine stuck them in their pockets.

“It’s only a precaution,” said Emerald. “Just in case we can’t all get across. Anyone who doesn’t make it can rendezvous at the primary site. With any luck, we’ll be able to open it from the other side and get you through. As it is, we wait till dawn.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” said Spi’dare.

Everyone was left to their own devices and split from the group. Spi’dare dragged himself and the squid across the floor into the chapel. Ref’eal checked on Phalcon who laid exhausted on the floor beside the pews. Wyraitz and Greevez wandered off to a side alcove in some strange and silent argument.

Emerald turned to those remaining in the cluster. “You two might want to get out of here. As it is, you’ll be questioned, but if you’re caught with me, there will be more than just questions.”

Max looked at Emerald, he face a mask of concern. “Gabby.”

“I mean it, Max, you’ve got a wife and kids to think of. You don’t need any more problems.” Emerald turned to Gus. “You should never have come. I appreciate the concern. You are loyal to a fault, but I was trying to protect you for a change. Father here is the only one they shouldn’t be able to touch. If you have to, hide on the other side of the grounds and wait until dawn. If there is a commotion maybe, you’ll be able to slip away in the confusion.”

“But—”

“I mean it. Both of you go. Now.”

Gloomy faced, Max tapped Gus on the shoulder and motioned for Gus to follow him. They slipped away in the darkness.

CHAPTER 33 - END GAME

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Emerald checked his watch. It was still several hours until dawn and their attempt to cross worlds. It would be a long wait, and his nervousness kept him from sleep. After getting together with Ref’eal and suggesting that Phalcon be moved to the chapel, he wandered up the aisle to where O’Brian and Grym sat talking.

O’Brian looked up as he drew close. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” said Emerald. “Even if the feds hadn’t got involved, Anderson wants my head. And don’t forget the people I’ve angered. While all of my places have been closed, so have the competitions’. Don’t you think they’ll want someone to blame? I’ll be pronounced guilty before I reach a trial. Besides, that would take time, and time is what we don’t have.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit rash?”

“Maybe, maybe not, it’s a chance I have to take.”

Emerald sank to one knee in front of Ag’dia. “If anything, and Ag’dia, I mean anything, happens, I don’t want you to risk getting caught. Don’t follow me.”

“But I’m Sav’ine, how can I not?” Her face showed the hurt his words had caused.

Emerald tried to explain. “It’s not me you should protect any longer.”

“But—”

“Please, Ag’dia, I know you can take care of yourself. You’d better take these just in case.” Emerald reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He undid the laces that tied it closed and spilled the stones out into his hand. Several emeralds including the necklace and earrings she had worn, shone in the dim candlelight. “If need be, you can sell them.” Emerald poured the jewels back into the pouch and held it out to Ag’dia.

She took the pouch with some hesitation. “You think of everything.”

“Not everything. If I had we’d never have gotten ambushed. Ja’kil and Ruesh would still be alive. And no one in the world would care I ever existed except for a few friends. If I had been thinking, I’d have asked you to marry me weeks ago.”

Ag’dia looked at him in confusion. “A contract for heirs?”

Emerald smiled, and shook his head. “No, not for breeding. A contract for being together as a couple until death.”

It only took a second for his words to register before she was in his arms. “Yes.”

He laughed and kissed Ag’dia. “How about it, Father, will you help us out one last time?”

“Of course. Just let me get a few things.”

***

Father O’Brian fussed with the preparations, but was soon back on the steps of the altar in his robes, book in hand. Emerald and Grym stood before him with both Wyraitz and Greevez standing off to the side as witnesses. O’Brian noticed Greevez slip her hand into Wyraitz’s when the vows were shared.

He went through the entire ceremony stopping only once to inquire what Grym’s given name was. Ag’dia Grym’ska was her answer.

When the ceremony was over, after Emerald slipped his own emerald ring onto Grym’s finger and kissed her, O’Brian realized that they were not alone.

Anderson, trailed by police officers, stepped out of the gloom and clapped. “How touching. Too bad you’ll be spending your honeymoon in jail.”

All four members of the wedding party bolted across the church toward the chapel. Anderson’s men gave chase only to be thwarted by the chapel doors as someone locked and barred the them from inside.

“They’re trapped. There’s no escape. Those doors are the only way in or out.” Sister Mary Joseph’s aging voice cackled with glee as the old nun trailed Anderson.

“You.” O’Brian’s shock of having the police invade the church was shoved aside by anger. “How could you? You’ve hounded that boy from day one, and when he tries to make everything right, you set on him like a wild dog.”

“He is a bastard child, son of the devil. I knew it the day I set eyes on him. No good could ever come from the likes of him.” Sister Mary Joseph shook her clawed fist in the air.

“Horse feathers, you hated him. You’ve always hated him because he was the one child that never feared you.”

Their voices boomed off the walls and echoed from the ceiling.

“Quiet, both of you, or I’ll have the two of you arrested and sent to jail.” Anderson glared at O’Brian. “Is it true that there is no exit from that room?”

O’Brian did not want to answer Anderson. What he wanted to do was strangle a nun. He took several breaths to calm himself enough to talk. “This church was around long before I became a priest, but to my knowledge, the only access are the doors now barred. The windows themselves are small and stained glass. You’d need to have wings to reach them, let alone climb through them.”

“Where’s the key?”

“There is none, at least not on this side of the door.”

Anderson scowled at O’Brian. “Sergeant, go find a locksmith.”

“Yes, sir.”

O’Brian watched the uniformed officer hurry out the main door. “Why not wait until morning? It’s not like they’ll be going anywhere, or do you want to waste the tax payers’ money?”

“I’ll pay him out of my own pocket if it means bringing in Emerald.”

O’Brian slumped on the steps of the church altar. He was no longer certain what to do. O’Brian did not understand why Emerald shut himself up in the chapel instead of taking flight elsewhere.

It took time before a locksmith could be found. In the meantime, Anderson pounded on the chapel door. “Emerald, give yourself up. This’ll only get worse for you if you don’t. Father, get over here and talk to him.”

The thought of doing the exact opposite was strong within O’Brian, but he resisted. A young officer helped him up from the steps and O’Brian shuffled over to the chapel door. Through the heavy wooden door, O’Brian swore he could hear the muffled sounds of voices but discounted it as his imagination. “I doubt if anyone can hear you through the door. It’s very thick, you know.” The slight grin on O’Brian’s face opposed Anderson’s red faced glare.

The locksmith’s arrival stalled an argument. Disheveled and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the locksmith greeted O’Brian before setting to work on the old lock. After a time, he stopped and placed his tools back in the bag.

“Well?” Anderson’s loud voice mirrored his impatience.

“Why’re you in such an all-fire hurry to get that door open?”

“That’s none of your concern, just get it open.”

“I can’t.” The locksmith smirked.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I mean that lock’s corroded to the point it ain’t budging. It looks as if that door ain’t been opened in years.”

Anderson sputtered and spit. “It was open just a few hours ago.”

“So you say, but I’m going home. I’ll send you my bill.” He turned, gave O’Brian a wink, and walked out of the building jamming his old, worn-out hat atop his graying head.

“We’ll have to break it down.”

The growing smile on O’Brian’s face turned to horror at the thought of what Anderson suggested. “You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will. Sergeant, go get an ax.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is blasphemy.”

“No, this is the law apprehending a wanted criminal.”

O’Brian cringed with every swing of the ax. The sound of the ancient door being ripped apart depressed and angered him. He vowed to see Sister Mary Joseph held responsible for what was happening.

The door fell away and revealed the top of the heavy stone altar behind it.

“What the hell,” said one officer. “What is that?”

“It’s the chapel altar,” said O’Brian. “It’s been in there for years. How did they tip it up and move it to the door? The thing weighs a ton.”

“Someone get a sledgehammer.” Anderson’s frustrated bellow sent several officers scurrying.

The early rays of the sun peeked through the windows as the sledgehammers were retrieved. Before the first swing hit the stone, a strange hum could be heard from inside the chapel. The noise grew and crackled. The men swung at the stone that barred their way. A thunderous crack more felt than heard, shot through the church just as the stone altar crumbled. Thick billowing smoke came through the chapel passage as an acrid smell fouled the air. When they were through the doorway, stepping over the broken altar, they found the room empty, except for the three tentacled squid with crab legs that lay burning on the floor. The blue flames engulfed its body, and its listless arms melted into the very slab it rested on.

“Where is he?” Anderson’s voice rang out in anger.

O’Brian stood at the entrance of the chapel in awe. His mind, little by little, put together the pieces. Emerald had never said where the supposed crack between worlds was, only that they would try it at dawn. Dawn had now passed. He wondered if they had gotten through without harm and said a silent prayer for each one.

EPILOGUE - RUBY DAZE

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Max buffed the nameplate before setting it back on his desk. It had taken him a few years, but after he left the police force and became a private detective, he did quite well. Many of his old friends felt the higher ups forced him out of his job. Others had their suspicions. Max found that when all was said and done, he could not have cared less what anyone thought. He was enjoying life more now that he was his own boss. Inheriting Emerald’s contacts did not hurt any. Gus had seen to that by becoming his partner.

A soft tap on the office door was followed by the thin blond Louis had hired to be their secretary. Her normal calm and no-nonsense attitude had evaporated and been replaced with nervous energy as she entered the office. “There is a young lady here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment, but she has a pair of scary looking thugs with her.”

Max wondered what could have caused his secretary’s anxious mood. “Well, send her in.”

“Right away.”

Max stood to greet the woman, but found himself speechless as she entered. A mass of auburn hair flowed over her shoulders as her gray eyes laughed at him. She was dressed in an expensive outfit that was a few years out of date.

She spoke in thick accented English. “You look just like your picture, Mr. Carver. I hope you do not mind, but Daddy talked so much about you I had to meet you. My name is Ruby. I believe that it is customary to shake hands here when greeting someone, yes?”

Ruby held out her hand and Max took it. His eyes wandered past the familiar face to the man that stood guard at the door behind her. His suit looked tailor-made, and he had not taken off his hat when he came into the room. It did not hide the hardened features and sharp eyes.

Max saw the small ruby tattoo on the man’s cheek. “How?” It was the only word Max could push past his lips.

Ruby laughed at him. “Time and space mean little to those who know the rules, Mr. Carver

HANDS OF ONYX

Book two of the Sav’ine

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stacy Bender is an author who lives in Cincinnati with her husband and cat.

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