A Question of Will (14 page)

Nobody’s listening to that part. Everyone will write in demanding something.

Howe also noted that the funds were secured in such a fashion as to make it impossible for either him or Baker to spend anything when under direct or indirect outside pressure. He noted that the Starks specifically wanted others to avoid the constant threats of kidnapping and violence they’d lived under, and as such wanted it made quite public that any efforts to compel them to act against the wishes of the Trust simply could not be met.

He intentionally left out the part about the third person in the group, the one who could freeze all assets. No sense exposing that person to the public, too. He couldn’t reveal the person’s identity even if he’d wanted.

Neither Howe nor Baker had any idea of the person’s identity.

X

Survivor

Will felt the pain almost before consciousness returned.

It was intense, but tolerable, more of a dull headache than a raging migraine. He knew now that he would live and survive the injuries suffered from the events of last night. Had it been last night? He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since his world had faded into darkness, since he’d watched his house burn with his wife and son inside. His son had finally spoken his first words after over six years in complete silence, and he’d never hear the boy speak, never know the joy of his laughter.

He remembered the conversation of the men who had attacked him and prevented him from entering the burning house. His ironic laugh was internal. By hurling him away from the house and beating him, they’d probably saved his life from his foolish bravado and thoughts of rescuing the two most important people in his world.

More interesting about the conversation was the doubt expressed at the end. They’d called him by name, told him that this death and suffering were his fault. He’d protested his innocence, and they’d laughed at him, fully convinced of Will’s guilt at whatever imagined crimes they’d charged him with. Then the doubts began. One of the men stated emphatically that Will had no memories of the crimes he’d been accused of, and his tone expressed uncertainty. What had changed his mind? A second man, who hadn’t let go of Will until his convulsions over news of Josh’s existence, stated that Will had no Energy, a term stated with special reverence. The third man, the one wearing the cloak, had agreed. This lack of energy or Energy added further doubts over his identity, and thus his guilt.

Was it possible? Were the deaths of his wife and son, the destruction of his home, the murders of two guards, and his own savage beating the result of a mistake? Was there truly another man out there with his name and likeness who had survived this encounter as Will and his family suffered?

The physical pain had lessened, but if anything, the emotional trauma had gotten worse.

The faces of Hope and Josh flashed before his eyes. The shining blue eyes of Hope, with a similar though faded glow appearing in her son’s icy-blue eyes. What had his eyes looked like when he’d finally spoken? Had they started to twinkle as Hope’s often did? He’d never know, now. Any chance of saving them from the fire had vanished. He cursed himself for accepting the sleeping potion from the young woman rather than insisting on being allowed to search his home, all the while recognizing that the effort, while noble, would have been futile.

He tried to convince himself that it had just been an awful nightmare, that the physical ache in his body was the result of an overzealous workout. He’d run a mile in unforgiving dress shoes, after all, in the chilly winter air. That might explain it. Yet that run had preceded the awful events that followed, and so if one had happened, so had the other.

He imagined playing baseball with his son, and tried to picture the smile spreading on his face as he hit a baseball for the first time. He saw his look of joy and pride as the two played catch in the backyard, just like millions of other fathers and sons. His dream was somewhat hollow, though. Josh should be laughing, talking to him in this dream. Yet he had no idea what his six-year-old son’s voice sounded like. He’d never heard Josh laugh. The boy had never seemed to experience enough joy to laugh, nor enough pain to cry.

In the end, there was only one reality, one he’d carry for the rest of his life. He’d failed them. It was his responsibility to protect them from harm. And they were dead because of his failure, dead because of three crazed lunatics who’d beaten and detained him in his backyard, dead at the hands of another man who’d been dispatched to murder them and burn down their house. He could still see the bald man’s head, the sword dripping with blood, presumably staring at the people whose lives he’d just ended. He wondered the purpose of the explosion and fire. Perhaps, in their twisted minds, they’d meant to send Will a message. After all, they seemed content to simply beat him before learning about Josh. Perhaps the fire was intended to be a message to stay away from them and their stupid rules.

That was their mistake. Will Stark was not a quitter. He’d regroup emotionally and physically and then he’d fight with everything he had, just as he had always done. He’d spent much of his life building his dream, finding his true love to share it with, and then they’d started a family to expand on the love they felt for each other. That part of him was gone. He’d never remarry, that much he knew, no matter how long he lived. Hope was the only one for him, and he’d never find anyone else like her, not if he looked for a thousand years. He’d failed Josh too, and therefore he’d never let himself have another child. That was his penance for his failure, to live the rest of his days alone, focused on a singular purpose.

That purpose was simple. He would find the men responsible for these crimes and ensure that they’d never hurt anyone again as they’d hurt him. No more innocents would die at their hands. They said they were part of some strange group, with a name he couldn’t quite recall, and an odd symbol including a couple of circles. That was their mistake. He didn’t need much information to get started, and he’d not rest until he’d destroyed them.

Resolved to the new purpose for his life, Will opened his eyes.

He was lying on his back, resting on a table in the middle of a room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the exact same shade of white. With no furniture other than his makeshift bed, and nothing on the walls, it was difficult to determine the actual size of the room. It didn’t help that he’d never gotten his glasses back after the men had thrown him across his yard.

He blinked, trying to focus his eyes, but it didn’t change what he could see, fuzzy though his vision might be. There was nothing on the walls. There was nothing
in
the walls either. There were no windows or doors. It was as if he’d been built into a box as he slept. Had he been rescued from harm from one group, only to be a prisoner to another? There was no indication that he was in danger just sitting here; the air was pure. Air? If there were no openings in the walls — no windows, no doors, no vents — how was he getting air to breathe?

The red-haired woman, whom he remembered was named Angel, walked through the walls as if stepping through a waterfall. No opening formed in front of her, and none was left behind her. She simply moved through the wall as if it was a mere illusion. Will relaxed just a bit. At least he knew he could get out of this building.

Wait. Did she just walk through the wall? It must be because I don’t have my glasses anymore. There’s really a door there that I just can’t see.

Angel walked to him, a smile forming on her face. In spite of the events since his arrival at the gates of the Estates yesterday, despite being trapped in a room with no visible exits, despite watching a woman simply walk through a wall...somehow, Will felt complete calm in her presence, all sense of fear melting away. The loss of his fear, though, returned his attention to the physical pain in his body.

Angel sat on the edge of the table next to him. “Mr. Stark, I’m glad to see that you’re awake. We gave you some fluids designed to help you achieve a deep sleep, and that’s what you’re waking up from now. The sleep enabled your body to do some healing, which is why the pain should be somewhat reduced from where it was when...well, when we picked you up.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I do apologize, though. We could have given you something a bit more potent, and healed you of your injuries, but doing so might have led you to believe that what you experienced at your home was just a very bad dream. The pain was necessary to leave in place, at least somewhat, so that you could not deny the experience.” She handed him a pair of glasses. “It would be helpful if you could see clearly, however.”

Will accepted the pair of glasses, and breathed a sigh of relief as the world snapped back into focus. He winced at the effort. “Thank you. I don’t think I can move well just yet. Are you a doctor? Is this a hospital room? And how is it that you just walked through that wall?”

She looked puzzled, and then nodded. “Of course, that would be something different for you. Let me answer your first two questions. I’m not a doctor, and this is not a hospital. But this is where you will recover from the wounds you suffered at the hands of the three Hunters. Not many human men—“

“Wait,” he interrupted. “What are Hunters? And why did you refer to me as a
human
man? Isn’t that redundant? Those men, the ones who did this to me, they kept referring to my wife as human, but acted like I wasn’t. They said it like I knew what they meant.” He took a deep breath. “I have no idea what they meant, or why they did what they did.” He looked at her, and could read the sympathy on her face.

“I know you don’t,” she said. “I’ll just say that they believed what they said to be true, and with that being the case, they acted according to the rules and laws of their organization.” She frowned. “They acted on them despite the fact that those rules are wrong.”

He frowned, and wished he hadn’t. His face was still sore. “What about my other questions? The wall, the Hunters, the human this and that...?”

She smiled. “Mr. Stark, you have found yourself at the crossroads of a great battle you had never been aware of until you arrived home and discovered that your family was in danger. There is much you need to learn, and you will have all the time you require in order to do so. But first, you must regain your health.”

He shook his head, ignoring the pain. “I can’t. I need to go after those men. I cannot sit back and let them walk free after what they’ve done. If you can help me to heal, I would certainly appreciate your assistance, and I can pay you. I need to get out of here. I need to go after those men. I can’t let them...I can’t let them do to someone else what they’ve done to my family.”

The man with the wraparound mirrored sunglasses entered the room as Will finished speaking. Angel continued as if unaware he’d joined them. “Mr. Stark, I appreciate your passion and love for your family, but if you walk out of this room and try to go after those men, you will be captured and jailed and likely killed by them before the day is out. You must regain your health, and you must learn why it is that they came for you and your family. Do not throw your life away in a rash attempt at bravado.”

Though he hated to admit it, he knew she was right. He needed to heal up. But that didn’t mean it needed to be here. “I appreciate your advice, and I agree that I need to recover. I’d prefer to do that with my own doctor, where I can start my own hunt for these men. I’m happy to pay whatever you ask for the care you’ve provided and the rescue...wait, how did you get me away from them?”

The man, called Fil as Will remembered, spoke up. “Mr. Stark, I will be blunt. The world believes you to be dead, killed in the fire that took the lives of your wife and child. If you suddenly reappear, the world that believes you are a great hero will suddenly become suspicious, that perhaps you survived because you orchestrated the entire event. You would also advertise...”

“Now wait just one moment!” Will snapped. “How
dare
you suggest I had anything to do with what happened! I’d give my life right this second to give either of them a chance to live, and...”

Fil raised his hand, and Will noticed a strange, golden symbol tattooed on his palm. “Mr. Stark, I’m aware of your true and noble sentiments in that regard. The reality, though, is that public opinion is easily swayed, and usually in the manner that would see a shining star fall. People cheered you as you rose to great heights, but they will cheer louder as you fall. You are best served remaining with us, and getting your revenge from the shadows. The attacks those men perpetrated were so successful because of the element of surprise. What better element of surprise than the attack from one believed dead?”

Will opened his mouth to protest, then realized the man was correct. “Then I am dead, and I have no means of repaying you. I will work—“

“Mr. Stark, we have no need of money,” Fil replied. “As for working, you are in no condition to do so. Your job at present is to heal, and to listen, and to learn. I ask only that you keep an open mind. What you hear will seem impossible, and you may think us liars in telling you what we do.”

“I’ve just watched two people walk through walls,” Will replied. “Unless my battered memory is wrong, three men tried to stab me and failed. I was pulled into and through the ground in my backyard. I don’t believe any of that is possible. Yet I saw and experienced all of those things. I don’t have much choice
but
to have an open mind.”