Black and Orange (35 page)

Black suits chatted in cliques inside the barn. They were all acting a little too easygoing for Cole’s liking. The Nomads had not shown yet but he couldn’t bank on them staying out of the picture forever. He cupped his jaw and squeezed his wound under its shell of scab. It had been a while since he spent an October 31
^st
out of bed. Around this time Cole was usually dead to the world from the effects of the Heralding.

Jake
Weins
looked at him, askance.

“Call the two
Ekkians
inside,” he said to Jake. “I don’t want anything less than twenty guns in here at a time. More would be better if there were actually room in here.”

“Do you wish to pull acolyte support from the freeway posts?”

“Keep them in position. Get another limo down here from the Hotel.
Sandeus
can part with some more Inner Circle—hey, and ask him for five of his sentinels.”

“I believe he only has the five
Ekkians
, Bishop.”

“Well he won’t need them tonight,” Cole pointed out. “So hurry up. Tell the Archbishop to talk to me if he refuses.”

“Understood.” Jake went off quickly, dusty black suit swishing.

Melissa had arrived a few minutes ago and Cole knew she was waiting down the hill. The whole affair had been expertly extracted from his mind today. Finding the Hearts had given Cole the escape, but the illusion of solace vanished.

“Bishop? One last thing.”
Weins
stood in the bar of light, a dark, manicured hand lifted. His Inner Circle garb fit his slender form well. It reminded Cole that he needed to get a new suit coat. Archbishops had to look the part.

“Yes
Weins
?”

“Out of curiosity, will the Chaplain be dropping by? I heard someone mention he’s in the grain silo, not far from here.”

Cole couldn’t help but grin at the man’s greenness.
Weins
had only just made Inner Circle at the end of July. “Why do you ask?”

“Just out of curiosity, Bishop.”

“Cloth can’t leave the gateway,” Cole said, “not until tonight.”

Relief flowered in Jake
Weins
’ eyes.

“If you like, I can introduce you to the Chaplain.” Cole grinned.

Weins
swallowed. “No Bishop... I’m sure he’s busy. Thank you though.”

As the man strayed outside Cole wanted to laugh but his sense of humor had no body today. Melissa had wiggled back into his head and power-spiked all senses. His gun dug into his armpit, nudging. The greater part of him could never hurt her and the lower, well... Just looking at her might be enough to set him up for what needed to be done.

Or looking at that video again
… he wished he hadn’t deleted it, but it had been the right thing to do, for both of them.

Cole went out the back of the barn. Half a mile down the hill, Melissa stood by her Audi. She looked fantastic. Her makeup had not been overdone. The burgundy lipstick and dark eye shadow had been applied with careful consideration. Her smallish chest was reshaped with a
Wonderbra
, an item which she had once joked about:
yeah, a guy takes it off and WONDERS where they went.
Melissa knew she didn’t have to do those silly things for him. But she had.

Cole unbuttoned his coat for better access to his holster.
What the hell are you doing? She’s scared shitless. What more do you want?
As long as they’d been together he’d never really listened to her, never tried to abide by her wishes. Didn’t he owe her something for that? She hadn’t cheated on him. Not really. She’d just gypped him out of some barbaric notion. Did it matter that he’d found another flag on this piece of territory? No, it shouldn’t. He’d already ripped the other out and planted his own flag. So who cares?

Right?

The space between them lessened. He stopped and searched for words. She’d brought the black satin handbag for her birthday. She was clutching it like a life preserver—maybe she thought this emotional relic would put his mind at ease. Cole had seen her deal with a few dangerous situations in the past and she always took the most reasonable, logical escape route. Standing there, horrified in heart and soul, she must really love him—because being here was downright unwise. Facing him took guts.

Where would he go without her?

The weight of his gun lightened until its presence vanished under his arm. His brow unraveled, his face softened, and Cole actually wanted to kiss her slighted lips. “I don’t want to hate you. I can forgive anything... but there can be no more lies.”

“I never wanted to lie,” she said gently. Her hand dipped into her purse. “I have this for you.”

Her words became lightning fast pain. Two metal slugs cut through the side of her purse and into Cole’s stomach at different angles. One moment he’d been whole and the next the bullets hissed through the back of his coat. Misery crossed Melissa’s face before he even realized what happened. Cole questioned why she could look this miserable, even with all things considered. The
gunsmoke
smell was his realization and then burnt meat on the air.

His only word: “What?”

She spun off the silencer, took a quick look around and tossed it in some weeds.

“What?” he asked again, stupidly.

Her lips, hands, arms,
everything
quivered, even the eyes staring behind the horn-rimmed spectacles. “I loved you but I’m not dying for this, Cole. You may forgive me now, but it won’t last. I’m horrible.”

The pain quickened in the two cavities in his stomach. He’d fallen on his knees and had become very cold, but he couldn’t recall when exactly, though it must have been seconds before.

“I did love you, Cole.”

His lungs gripped to feed him more oxygen. The marrow blossoms screamed. Her slim hands fiddled inside his jacket and retrieved his gun. At first Cole thought this was the end. She would take him out with his own goddamn bullets. Put one right in the brain-box. But instead, she walked up the hill to the barn.

She was leaving? She was going back to join the others! Like nothing happened?
His astonishment was only paralleled with the awful genuineness of her actions: she wouldn’t do him the honor of ending this humiliation.

Go then.
The Church will find out you assassinated a Bishop and you’ll suffer worse things than I could have ever thought of—

His body went into shock. All Cole’s dreams were set afire and love ate its way out from his heart to the surface, to the truth.

~ * ~

Melissa found a place around back where the others couldn’t hear her. Questions and answers were for later. Right now she could only sit on an old blackened tree stump and rock back and forth. As many times as she’d rehearsed the scene in her head, it felt more heartbreaking. Cole was suffering down there—she should have finished him. That possibility still existed, although she couldn’t bring herself to really go back down there and
end
him; being the cause and being the determiner were different somehow; she could always tell herself that Cole died from blood loss, but if she blew his brains out then she would be the one fully responsible.

Her teeth clashed with her lower lip to stop the trembling. She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. Some of the makeup came off in a streak across her wrist. It looked like a row of squashed ants. What had she done?
Fool, you killed him. Don’t make silly rationalizations. He was forgiving you and you shot him. Twice.

She put her glasses back on and held her sides. Rocked faster. Thoughts of home, a warm bed, a warm hug from her mother. The hate for her old life had vanished this morning. There was no point staying in the Church of Midnight anymore. Even if they didn’t connect her with Cole’s death, she’d always be ostracized.
Sandeus
would find a more tractable Bishop, which was sadly ironic because aside from this foolish assassination plan, Cole had been every bit of that and more.

Then he fell in love with you
, she thought cynically. Things changed. He’d set all this up for her.

Tears wobbled in her eyes, hot and fresh, and fell down her cheeks. One hooked between her lips and she tasted the saltiness. The memory of her deed lingered and the cold smell of blood saturated the air. She’d only fired shots at the Nomads in the past, but never killed anybody. So this was how it was like? The odor of death followed you wherever you went, was that it? How could the smell of blood still be so fresh in her nose?

This is what Melissa thought at first. Then she realized someone had come up without making a sound. Her victim had more grace than she’d ever given him credit for. Cole caught her around the waist and slammed a hand over her mouth. Hot breath rattled in her eardrum. He grunted for something meaningful. Nothing sensible rose to his lips. Her body tightened. The atmosphere coiled in helix strands. She could feel Cole’s mountainous form clasping tighter; pain flared in her feet and legs and midsection and chest, into the foundations. Flesh went brittle. Sound hissed out in venomous static. The cool breeze outside curdled in her nose into fat and meat-laden waste that thickened to a liquid.

Salty red liquid.

But not blood.

Before her body slipped over to the Old Domain, Cole cried out
orgasmically
. The world went rusty and dim and suddenly the surface of a mighty ocean hung above Melissa. It was real. She was drowning. The atmospheric pressure collapsed her ribcage into a trodden tumbleweed. Black-eyed things with razor fins and serrated overbites sought her from a distance. Silky maneuvers through the water brought them to her in seconds.
Swish. Swish.
Briny water engulfed her mouth. She slammed her hands down at her sides, kicked her feet furiously for the surface.

She made little progress before the first set of teeth pierced her flank. Other creatures joined in and pulled on her in different directions. Bones disconnected in a succession of underwater pops. Right before the
demonfish
shredded her into meal-sized divisions, Melissa thought of Cole.

~ * ~

I never cease to be fascinated with the lives across the divide of Worlds. I turn my eyes there and always find a piece of truth, no matter how odd or disturbing.

I am aware that not long before the Day of Opening a group of slave children combing the shores of
Olathu
ocean discovered an item entwined in onyx kelp. This was all very exciting to the slaves, for their lives were comprised of only two realities: servitude and castigation. They were there to collect
pina-trego
shells for the new palace of the Archbishop of Morning, which was close to completion now. These slave children, holding fast to their delicate lives, couldn’t help themselves when they found this wrapped-up gift.

The spectacles were foreign, like nothing they’d ever seen anyone wear. The tips were bent like fangs and the smooth black material like hardened ice, yet with a temperate surface. The young slaves already knew their limitations for idle distraction set by their masters and quickly returned the item to the red tides. Some still wondered, however, what had been seen through such spectacles. They would never know for sure but they could always imagine. Some told stories about it in the dungeons, hypothesizing that the wearer had witnessed a great many extraordinary things, and unlike the life of a lowly slave, the wearer had probably loved deeply and had also been loved deeply, in return.

~ * ~

Cole stared. The human imprint in the dead grass could still be seen but Melissa was completely gone. From the messy transaction, the chaos done to his body started to catch up to him. Blood striped his face from empty craters. The plugs of flesh had departed with his beloved murderer. Despite the burning holes in his face, the bullet wounds in his stomach still hurt the most. Taking his coat off, rolling it into a ball, he shoved it into the boiling stain in his undershirt. He would be finished if he didn’t get these wounds under control. At least both bullets had exited his body.

Now that Cole decided he wanted to live, something spun inside him like a clock’s hands. Whatever this apparatus was, it spoke loud and clear. His work was not yet done. He could go around and get help from the others, but they would probably slow him down, tell him to wait for medical.

That wouldn’t do. There was one death that needed attending. If Melissa was gone and Cole was near to checking out himself,
Sandeus
Pager was coming with them. If Cole couldn’t have the whole fucking thing, then that joke of a leader couldn’t either, and he would prove to Cloth who the worthy one had been. Plans get twisted sometimes and this one had corkscrewed pretty badly, but Cole could still go out his own way. He had a last chance to smile before he rolled over and died.

He shuddered ferociously as he limped downhill to the Audi. With much effort, he got inside, adjusted the seat and turned on the vents to blow away Melissa’s lingering perfume. He started down the bumpy dirt road, still holding the coat firmly into his side. The face in the rearview mirror belonged to a casualty of war. Maybe. Maybe Cole was. And there was one more battle yet.

Paul glanced in the rearview mirror. The man known as the Heart Bearer was one car behind. The Priestess was in that car… maybe even awake now.