Darkest Heart (28 page)
"He's no longer crawlin' and shittin' himself, it's that's what you're askin'," he replied, tossing a sheaf of photocopied medical charts and case notes over his shoulder and onto the seat beside her. "Read all about it."
Sonja thumbed through the Xeroxed pages, nodding occasionally. "He's maturing rapidly. Excellent. Did he see you?"
"I don't think so."
"Good. Did you give them the photograph?"
"I fed 'em the song and dance about our friend in there being the last black sheep of a thinning flock. They bought it, just as you said they would. Luckily our Mrs. Hawley didn't recognize Lazarus' beloved "Nana"
as Dame Margaret Rutherford. Then again, I get the distinct impression that as long as th' check doesn't bounce, I could say he was Prince Mongo of bloody Mars and they wouldn't have batted an eye."
Sonja glanced through the rear window at the entrance of the sanitarium, a sour look on her face. "They may have changed the name since I was locked up in there, but this place still makes its money seeing to it that the dirty little secrets of the rich and famous are swept under the rug. As long as Lazarus' bills are paid, they won't do anything to rock the boat. When the time comes, we'll present them with a suitable family history for him, along with a modest fortune. And, if he ever fully regains his senses, he'll be free to start clean, the way he should have the first time, without parents to avenge or monsters to slay."
Jen turned around in his seat and stared at his kinswoman, shaking his head in amazement. "I'll be
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) damned if you don't still love him."
"Don't be redundant, Jen. Besides, the man in there is a complete stranger to me. How can I love someone I've never met? And I intend to keep it that way; I can't risk triggering a residual memory in Lazarus, whether it belongs to Judd or Estes. The last thing I want is for him to remember me."
"Fine, then, if that's how you want it," Jen shrugged. "But if you truly loved these men, and they loved you, why erase yourself from their lives?" "Because it's not safe for humans to be around me, Jen. Every
`normal' man I've ever been with has come to an unpleasant end because of me. Even those who had the ability to see into the Real World, like Chaz and Palmer, ended up getting the worst of it. I'm like radioactive waste. I contaminate those around me, even without trying."
"Where does that leave me, eh?" he sniffed.
"You don't count. You're suspended somewhere between heaven and hell - just like me."
"So you're sayin' I'm so filthy the dirt won't show, is that it?"
"I mean no disrespect, cousin," Sonja replied, smiling crookedly. "In your own way, you're as incorruptible as a saint."
"Thanks for th' compliment. I guess. And speakin' of the divine - why didn't you allow Pangloss to remove the Other? Without it, you could have somethin' resemblin' a normal life with Lazarus, without fear of his being tainted."
"I still need the Other, at least for now. How else can I hope to track down and slay Lord Noir? I promised Estes I would avenge him, and I will, even if it takes a dozen decades."
"You do realize what you're getting yourself into, don't you? Noir wants you to give chase, and that's exactly what you're doin'."
Sonja scowled, shaking her head. "No. You're wrong. I'm doing this for Jack."
"If that's what you want to believe," he said, rolling his eyes. "But this is how it always begins, y'know."
"How what begins?"
"The Ennui. I've seen it plenty of times. You find yourself obsessin' over perceived injustices, holdin'
grudges, takin' the slightest insult and blowin' it up to apocalyptic proportions. You'll eventually latch on to anything that'll justify a blood feud, so you can pass the time and keep yourself busy... anything to keep you from thinkin' about the futility of it all."
Sonja stared at Jen, her mouth compressed into a thin line. She wanted to tell him he was full of shit and didn't know what he was talking about. She wanted to tell him she was different from the others, that her anger was righteous, not a self-serving excuse for violence for violence's sake.
Instead, she said nothing, for fear he would hear doubt in her voice... and that she would hear it as well.
Afterword
Some people make their midlife career decisions after passing the Buddha on the road. In my case, it took my coming down to Georgia to understand what was necessary for me in order to continue to grow as a writer. I have taken this time in my life as a sign to move further into mainstream fiction, focusing in particular on stories set in the South of my birth. I have been intending to walk this path for some time now, but, whenever the time came, it had always been easier to write another Sonja Blue novel than to strike out on something new.
After ten years of chronicling the adventures of Sonja Blue, I have, to be frank, grown weary of the task. It is entirely feasible that I will one day, possibly sooner rather than later, find myself eating these words with a large side-order of crow. However, should I feel the need to pen another Sonja Blue adventure, it will probably be less than novel length. And, of course, there is the chance that a theatrical film or television series might inspire me all over again.
I appreciate the interest and enthusiasm shown my work by those of you who have followed my writing so faithfully over the last decade. I hope those of you who have enjoyed my writing will be willing to follow me from the shadowy haunts of horror into the uncharted territory I am heading into. I can't promise much, but I can guarantee that whatever I end up doing, it will no doubt be weird and more than a little twisted.
Nancy A. Collins
Atlanta, GA
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) June 10, 2002
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