Elektra (19 page)

—and Kirigi’s katanas shattered.

He had a millisecond to look stupidly at the remains of his broken swords, then Elektra’s right sai pierced the center of his chest.

He tripped backward as Elektra’s momentum pulled her up and propelled her toward him, his wide, black gaze going from Elektra to the blade buried in his heart as if he couldn’t believe such a thing could actually happen, not to him, not to
Kirigi.

But Elektra only stared at him grimly as she pulled from deep inside herself, gathering every bit of strength she had and lifting the killer overhead using her two deadly blades. “The lesson is over,” she said coldly, “when the student becomes the master.”

Kirigi’s body wobbled over her head, then she flung him as hard as she could, right into the wishing well. For a second, there was nothing, then suddenly the familiar noxious smoke spewed from the well’s shadowed opening like a shower of toxic fireworks. Elektra yanked her face away and threw up one arm to protective her eyes as a swirl of nearly blinding green fire exploded from the well.

The sais that had killed Kirigi lay on the ground at Elektra’s feet. What she had seen had been reality, not kimagure, and now Elektra saw that Typhoid Mary had gone; satisfied that her evil work was done, the woman had left Abby lying motionless on the other side of the desiccated hedge. Waving away the last of the smelly smoke, Elektra bent and picked up her weapons, sensing the air and everything around her with a flow of inner peace that was steadier than anything she’d experienced in years. She brought up one sai on her palm and closed her eyes, then twirled it twice and threw it as hard as she could. When she opened her eyes, Elektra saw the sai whirling away end over end, burning its way through the dead hedges as it went in the opposite direction from Abby. Elektra smiled darkly just as she saw Typhoid Mary turn the corner ahead.

The sai slid neatly into the small space between the poisonous woman’s eyebrows.

Other than that it rivaled Kirigi’s spectacular end, Elektra barely remembered the explosion and the burning that followed the death of Typhoid Mary. Abby was the only thing in the world now that was important, and she was at the teenager’s side in seconds after slicing through the dead brush that stood between them. But Abby was almost gone, her breathing so shallow Elektra could barely feel it against her cheek when she bent close to the girl’s face. The teenager’s skin was china-white, a bizarre mirror image of Typhoid’s own Noh mask.

“Abby,” Elektra said urgently, “concentrate. Focus on your breathing.” Sweat and steam poured off the prone body, but there was no sign that she could hear Elektra’s instructions. Elektra’s hands gripped Abby’s wrists. “Listen to me!” Elektra’s voice rose as she fought to control her own panic. “Use my voice as a guide—” Before she could continue, Abby jerked, then convulsed in Elektra’s arms. Her cheeks, so pale just a moment ago, flushed bright red as the fever climbed to its highest point yet, then her eyes, still slightly open, rolled back in her head until only the whites showed—

—and her breathing stopped entirely.

Elektra clutched at Abby’s shoulders, then shook her. “Don’t die!” she cried. “Abby, please don’t—slow your heart! Slow the poison!”

But Abby only lay there, still and silent. Elektra searched for a pulse, but there was nothing. She searched again, refusing to give up. “No! No! Abby— come back.
Abby, come back!”

For the first time since she had mistakenly plunged her sai into Daredevil’s shoulder and nearly killed him, Elektra cried. And as the tears ran down her face, she gathered Abby in her arms and sprinted for the house.

Elektra remembered.

She remembered being a young girl and coming down the upstairs hallway, how her footsteps had made muffled thumping noises along the long, expensive Persian carpet runner. She remembered standing before the closed bedroom door and how tall it seemed, how she had to crane her neck to see above it where the wall and the sixteen-foot ceiling met. Worse than that, she remembered opening the door itself and seeing her mother’s body lying on the bed. In this memory, the
real
one, her mother was still dead, but the blood from the nearly hidden wound was minimal and there was no demon shrieking at her as it escaped out the window. There was only her mother’s corpse and the blackclad ninja, a figure with which she would become intimately familiar over the course of her life. Yes, her mother had died in this bedroom—

The same room, and the same bed, in which Abby now lay.

As she had done over her mother so many years ago, Elektra hovered over Abby tonight. Elektra could only guess, of course, but even though the tools were different, perhaps this was the same way the two ambulance attendants, those luckless, surprised New York City employees, had watched over her as she’d died under their care.

As she was doing to Abby, Stick had done to her.

It was the way of the warrior.

Doing this for Abby now, Elektra realized she had missed something all these years, and she had started by missing it all the way back when she had trained under Stick in the hidden compound. There was no doubt in her mind that the love, knowledge, and energy flowing from her into this child had come to her in the same way from her mentor, Stick. Had she not been so self-centered and blind to the world around her, so full of rage over the hand that destiny had dealt her, she might have seen that—she might have seen a
lot
of things. Her fingertips touched Abby’s head, arms, legs, and all the while she whispered in the teenager’s ear, putting herself into the healing, inserting her undeniable will into Abby’s already strong spirit. Her voice was soft and songlike, crooning, and she would not stop, not now, not ever, until she had found her way right down into Abby’s soul.

“Hey you, warrior girl.” Elektra could see her breath tickling the soft hairs against Abby’s temple and she willed Abby to feel what she saw, to experience the sensation of the strands of hair sliding across her sensitive skin. “Do you see me? Look at me, I’m over here. No, no—right here.” She squeezed Abby’s wrists, pushing her silent commands into the flesh rather than trying to feel for life. “That’s it,” she continued in a murmur. “Now come to me, come to me, come here. Obey your superiors, that’s right. Always obey your superiors.”

Elektra paused, knowing she would start again if she had to, she would
not
give up. Abby’s face was still blank, but…
yes!
There
was
something…something…

She looked down. One of Abby’s fingers had moved until it was just barely touching Elektra’s own. Coincidence? No—suddenly Abby gagged, then her body twisted on the bed. She writhed and turned, but Elektra made no attempt to hold or quiet her other than to keep her grip on the teenager’s wrists. It was a terrible thing to watch, but some things in this universe were meant to be done alone.

Coming back to life would not be any easier for Abby than it had been for Elektra years before.

It had taken more than half an hour for the convulsions to subside, and now the exhausted Abby was sleeping quietly. Elektra was content to just sit at Abby’s bedside and listen to her breathing, watch her chest rise up and down and monitor the tiny jump of her not-so-strong pulse beneath the fragile skin of her neck.

It was almost ten when Elektra heard Mark’s crutchaided footsteps thunking down the hallway, followed by the much more subtle stride she recognized as Stick. In his haste, Mark came around the doorway and jerked to a stop, nearly falling when he saw his daughter’s prone figure on the bed. Elektra waved her hand to call him in when she saw the fear on his face.

“She’s fine,” Elektra said. “She’s
fine.”
She rose and gestured again for Mark to take her place by the bedside. She met Stick’s blind gaze, then walked to the window and looked outside. She had not stood at this window since well before her mother’s death, but finally, after all this time, she had found the sense of detachment—if not peace—she needed from her mother’s passing.

The demon in her dreams was just that…

A dream.

Elektra couldn’t exactly recall the last time she’d been in the master bedroom and seen the sunshine spilling through the tall windows, but it was sure doing that now. It was fitting, though, a lovely morning to welcome Abby back into the land of the living and into a life free of those who had tried so hard to kill her and her father. Mark was in parental hover mode, of course, and Stick stood regally in the doorway as Elektra went over to the bed.

She smiled down at Abby. “How are you?”

Abby nodded—better—but she wasn’t quite ready to try her voice. After a moment, Elektra sat on the side of the bed, then she jumped a little when Abby reached over and took her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“So,” Elektra said after a bit, “what’s next?” Abby looked at her with a frown, not understanding. “Kirigi’s gone,” Elektra reminded her. “No one’s after you. You can do what you want now.” Abby’s frown deepened and Elektra almost shook her head as she realized how strange it must be for Abby to actually have a
choice
in what she could now do with her life. No one had ever revealed the specifics, but she and her father must have been running for a long, long time. Elektra grinned. “Back to school?” This question made the girl scrunch up her face so much that Elektra chuckled. She gestured toward the blind man. “Train with Stick?” This time Abby looked undecided, so Elektra decided to lighten things up all the way. “Go lie on a beach and get a tan,” she said with cheerful finality.

Abby considered this, then looked hopefully toward her dad. “I want ice cream,” she ventured in a scratchy voice. Both Mark and Elektra laughed, then without warning Abby threw her arms around Elektra and held on tight.

Elektra swallowed, fighting against tears. She was supposed to be the strong mentor here, not a sappy friend. It would be nice if she could be both, but her life just wasn’t set up like that. The girl’s next words were a bittersweet reminder of exactly that. “You gave me my life back,” Abby whispered.

“You gave me mine,” Elektra said in return, and she meant it.

Only Abby heard her, but it was enough to make the girl sit back and stare at her with a sudden understanding that was a little too old for her years. Tears glistened in the teenager’s eyes. “Will I see you again?”

On the other side of the bed, Mark sat up straighter on his chair. “Are you leaving?”

Elektra smiled at them both. “We’ll find each other.” She hugged Abby, then gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. Over Abby’s head, her gaze met Mark’s. His was hopeful, hers was forgiving. The reconciliation was complete… but they both knew it would never go any further.

Elektra left the estate feeling better about life and herself than she had since the death of her father and her parting from Matt. She stopped outside for a while, looking at the ruins of the maze and the remains of the overgrown grounds. What would become of this place now? What
should
become of it? She had so much history here, but Elektra wasn’t sure she ever wanted to return, or what she would do if she did. Yes, she had some decisions to make, but she would take her time about it. They would not be made lightly.

“Please,” she finally said to Stick. “Don’t let her be like me.” She’d known he was behind her for at least three minutes.

Stick made his way carefully forward until he was standing by her side. “Why not? You haven’t turned out so bad.”

She glanced sideways at him, surprised at the tone of approval in his voice. They’d crossed attitudes so often that it was something she’d never thought she’d hear. “I…just don’t want it to be so hard for her,” she finally said.

But her mentor simply shrugged. “That’s up to her.”

Elektra could only lift a corner of her mouth ruefully—that was all too true. “Anyway,” she added, “your second life’s never like your first, is it?”

Stick smiled vaguely. “Sometimes it’s better.”

Elektra looked at him and knew that even though the man didn’t have his vision, he could see her.

She turned and walked away, knowing that he always would.