Immortal at the Edge of the World (32 page)

“He’ll turn up,” I said, regarding Jerry’s continued absence. “He’s signaled us.”

“So you’ve said. I don’t think a flickering light is a signal any more than I think a moved flowerpot is a signal. The building could be haunted.”

“He’s done a couple of hauntings, actually. He’s really good at them.”

She laughed. “That sounds fun. If he weren’t such a disgusting thing I could learn to like him, I think.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” She flashed me a genuine smile, and it was adorable, because she almost never did that. “So are you dealing with this any better?”

“How do you mean?”

“You had a little freak-out a while back. Can you live with the idea that I might not be crazy?”

“I’m coping all right. You do keep some odd company.”

“For someone like me, sometimes the safest place is among other impossible things. We keep each other secret.”

“Does that make you king of the impossible things?”

“I might be the god of impossible things.”

She laughed. “That’s a dubious honor.”

“Being a god always is.”

She looked at her watch. “It’s past the time he should have emerged. And it’s been five days. We’re running out of time. I don’t suppose you have a contingency plan?”

“No. Do you?”

“Other than breaking in myself, which you refuse to let me do, I can’t think of any. Unless you want to give up on this whole thing, let the woman’s son die, and go visit someplace tropical.”

“Ask me that again in a couple of days, I might consider it.”

The truth was, we were cutting this much too close and we were relying on just about the most untrustworthy being I could name to deliver a solution. And I had no real faith in that solution being effective. There was no other real choice, though. I didn’t like the idea of Clara’s son being killed, and I expected if I allowed it to happen I’d hate myself for at least a century, but I wasn’t going to trade my life for his if it came down to it. I know that makes me a terrible person, but let’s be honest, I’m kind of a terrible person sometimes. And maybe someday Clara would forgive me.

Iza buzzed past my ear. I was so used to this that it took me a minute to remember I’d left her with Clara and there wasn’t any good reason for her not to still be with Clara unless something was wrong.

Mirella realized it, too. She was looking around the plaza. There was nobody else there, but it was after midnight, and the weekend had passed so I had thought nothing of it.

“Iza, what’s wrong?” I asked under my breath.

“Trap,” she said on her way by my ears. “Clara said trap. Clara said run.”

“What happened to Clara?”

Mirella stood up, her hand on a hidden blade. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“To what?”

“I think we might be surrounded.”

“Trap,” Iza repeated.

I could hear someone walking up behind me. I didn’t bother to turn because Mirella could see him just fine and I was pretty positive I knew who it was. And the drama of his dress shoes clacking on the cobblestones was kind of cool, actually. Very cinematic.

Without a word Smith placed a small round object wrapped in a cloth on the table in front of me and sat down opposite us. This time he wasn’t alone. He had two men next to him, both wearing the kind of gear you don’t usually see in an American city, even after midnight.

At least the men were human.

“Do you want to tell me what it is?” he asked, without preamble.

I opened it up and took a look. “It’s an astrolabe.”

“It is indeed. A very old one, stolen from the building behind me by the tiny little man in the bag being held by my associate right now.”

To illustrate, one of the men took a bag off his shoulder and dropped it on the ground. I heard a garbled exclamation of pain from inside the bag.

“What I would really like to know, Adam, is why this little man stole this very old astrolabe for you?”

“I like it,” I said. “Used to own it, decided I wanted it back.”

“Two weeks ago you and I came to an agreement,” Smith said. He sounded really pissed. “You were given the freedom to find what you needed in order to do what
she
did.”

“It hasn’t been two weeks yet.”

“Yes, because I’m
just that stupid
. I’m going to tell a killer to go off and find the thing that will allow him to appear and disappear and walk through walls and then I’m going to expect him to
give
it to me.”

“When you put it that way it does sound sort of stupid.” I don’t really think of myself as a killer, because the notion is sort of a modern one. Historically, being a guy who was willing to take another guy’s life if it meant living another day was just called “a guy.”

“So two days ago when your little thief snuck out with that we intercepted him, took him to a nice dark room and interrogated him. But it turns out he’s kind of an asshole and kind of an idiot, which is why you didn’t tell him anything useful.”

“Yeah, I don’t really trust Jerry all that much.”

“Very smart. Although to his credit he did keep what he
did
know to himself for longer than I expected.”

“You should have given him beer. He would have opened right up.”

“Meanwhile, that little tchotchke there went to the lab and do you know what the lab guys told me? They told me it’s old, it’s brass, and if you point it at the sky and spin a couple of dials it will tell you what time it is.”

“Sounds about right.”

“
What do
you
want it for?
”

“You said two weeks and it hasn’t been two weeks,” I said. I was repeating this because I thought it was important, yes, but also I didn’t know what else to say just yet.

“And you spent one week and five days getting this when you could have just bought a fucking watch. Forget it, we’re done. I tried being nice. Now I’m just gonna kill everyone and call it a wash.”

I heard Iza’s buzzing pick up an agitated tempo. “Did you kill Clara?” I asked.

“What? No, why would I do that? No, I need her. We’re going to re-create Grindel’s immortality formula. That was pretty much always the plan, but I figured maybe we could get this other thing, too, before getting rid of you.”

“You need me if you’re ever going to do that.”

“Nah, not really. I’m told Grindel’s corpse wasn’t all that useful because of the being dead thing, but Clara and the kid are plenty enough.
You
have a tendency to break everything you touch, so I’m not going to put you anywhere near that compound if I can help it. Best thing is to just take you out into the woods and kill you. You, too, honey. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you and all those pretty knives.” He stopped talking for a second and listened, and I realized he was looking for Iza. “And her. I saw how useful she was in Istanbul. She moves too fast to show up on video cameras, did you know that?”

He looked over his shoulder and gave a nod to the other guy, the one who hadn’t been carrying Jerry. This one had something else on his back . . .

“Iza, fly away!” I shouted, but if she heard me she didn’t react fast enough. Soon the entire plaza was blindingly bright with fire.
 

The man had a flamethrower.

I would love to say that I saw her get away, that she managed to get above the flames or something, and went off to live a nice long life somewhere. But I didn’t see her at all, because the fire was too bright. I did hear her, though. And the sound of a pixie screaming is right near the top of the list of the most terrible things I’ve ever heard.

It was only a few seconds before the man with the flamethrower shut it down and we all blinked our vision clear. All except for Smith, who had evidently closed his eyes.

“I’m going to kill you for that,” I told him.

“I wish I could say you’ll have a chance to, I really do. But I’m not
that
stupid, Adam.”

“You’re going to gun us down right in the middle of Cambridge? The flames have probably already gotten someone’s attention.”

“No, we’ll be taking you someplace more private for the formal execution. Don’t worry, it’s not far. And if you’re thinking it’s just three of us, I’m pretty sure your goblin has already alerted you to the fact that I have this place surrounded.”

“Actually, no,” Mirella said. “It’s only the three of you now.”

Smith laughed. “Fine, whatever you say honey.” He had a small microphone in his hand, which he spoke into. “Bring it in,” he said.

Mirella looked at me. “Would you like the honor of killing him personally?”

Smith looked a little less happy. “Round ’em up, let’s get out of here,” he said into his mike.

“I think I really have to do it myself,” I said. “It’s a little cliché, but you understand.”

“I do.”

Something was flung from the darkness beyond the plaza. It was a little black piece of electronics, and it bounced along the cobblestones and came to a stop next to Smith’s feet. He looked down at it for a second. “Hello,” he said into his hand. He heard his own voice come out of the piece on the ground.

This got the attention of the men standing on each side of Smith. They did not appear to need orders to understand that getting their guns out was a good idea. But guns can be surprisingly useless when someone has already thrown a knife at you and that knife has already penetrated your windpipe. It is remarkable how quickly one learns not to care about one’s gun when one is suddenly deceased.

Mirella handed me her sword. I stood and pointed it at Smith. “Tell me you’re armed, so this at least feels fair,” I said.

“You aren’t going to kill me,” he said. “I have Clara and the boy.”

Brenda walked up. She had ten assault rifles slung over her shoulder. She looked really sharp in slacks and a silk blouse, and a pair of sensible two-inch heels. The weaponry was strikingly discordant. “I can kill him,” she said. “You want me to?”

“No, I can do it. Is everyone else dead?” I didn’t hugely care because I was going to leave as soon as I was in a vehicle that could get me out of town, but I had a feeling three dead bodies in the middle of Harvard Square wasn’t nearly as bad as thirteen.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I tried not to. They all had zip ties, so they’re cuffed up if you’re worried.”

She really had grown. A few years back she was horrified to know I had taken someone’s life, now she wasn’t sure if she may have accidentally beaten someone to death.
 

To Smith I said, “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to drop everything to go save Clara. I made that mistake once before, remember? I try to learn from my mistakes when I can.”

“If not her, then at least the boy,” Smith said. “Or . . . she didn’t tell you, did she? Adam, you
do
know little Paul is your son, don’t you?”

Chapter Nineteen

“Don’t gods have children?” Hsu asked once. We were talking about his own disappointment at not having carried on his family line, which would die with him.

“Gods have children,” I said. “But I don’t.”

*
 
*
 
*

“That’s a lie,” I said. My voice was firm but the tip of the sword betrayed a tremble, because while what he said was impossible it fit all of the evidence. It’s just that I have not fathered a child—ever—so the idea that I was responsible for this one had simply never occurred to me. But if I were Clara, I would know how many powerful people would want to get their hands on this child, and I would do what I could to keep him a secret. Even from his father. Especially from his father, actually.

“Adam, I’m gonna reach into my jacket here for a second, okay?” Smith said. He was sliding his hand past his lapel. “No weapon.”

He pulled out a photograph and placed it on the table. “Here’s a picture of Paul. I know you haven’t seen any because she cleared them all out of the house when she knew you were coming. I don’t blame her, I mean look at him. Look at that face.”

I did.
 

There was really no mistaking who the father of this child was.

“So . . . congratulations?” Brenda said.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not gonna tell you that. But I will tell you that if I don’t return from tonight’s escapade I can’t guarantee their safety.”

“You can’t guarantee their safety now.”

“That’s true, but I’m the only one here who can try. Let me be honest with you, Adam. Little Paulie is going to grow up behind a fence. He’ll have his mom there for at least as long as we need her, and maybe if she’s really good she’ll get to stay even after the lab folks are all done with her, but I can’t promise that because I’m pretty sure she’s planning on being a pain in the ass. What I
can
do is make sure Paul doesn’t feel like a prisoner. Right now the only thing we don’t know about him is what he’s gonna turn into when he grows up, and there are a lot of people interested in the answer to that. But he can grow up in a cell just fine because science doesn’t care if the test subject is happy. You understand what I’m saying?”