Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack) (58 page)

Until tonight, Carol had made love to only two men in her life, both of them husbands. Bill was the third and by far the most anxious. His hands trembled as he undressed her, as he helped her remove his own clothes, as he caressed her.

“I’m not very practiced at this,” he told her when they were lying skin-to-skin, and even his voice trembled.

“I am,” Carol said, and drew him into her.

What he lacked in technique he more than made up for with the intensity of his passion. Their lovemaking rocked the mattress. Hot, fierce, and over too soon for Carol, but somehow it left her as breathless as Bill. She hugged him tight against her, reveled in his being warm and wet within her.

And then she heard him sobbing softly on her shoulder.

“Bill? Are you okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s just … I keep thinking … what a waste. This is so wonderful. I’ve never felt so close to another human being in my entire life. I’m way past my prime, Carol. We can all count the rest of our days on one hand, and I’m just now learning what it’s like to make love. All those years—wasted! My
life
—wasted! What an idiot!”

“Don’t you say that, Bill Ryan. Don’t you ever let me hear you say that!” She shared his hurt, but she was angry at him too. “You did
not
waste your life. Maybe your beliefs were misplaced, but not your actions. You spent your life being a father, a real father, to hundreds of lost and abandoned boys, the first and maybe the best father they ever knew. You couldn’t have done that if you’d had a wife and children of your own. You couldn’t have been there twenty-four hours a day for them like you were. So it wasn’t wasted at all. You made a difference, Bill. A big difference. A lot of grown men are walking around who still remember you, who still have a warm place in their hearts for their beloved Father Bill, who are maybe good to their own kids because you were good to them, because you showed them how it’s done. That’s a legacy, Bill, one that might have gone on for generations if Rasalom wasn’t trying to bring all our generations to an end. So don’t you dare say you’ve wasted your life—at least not in front of me.”

After a long pause, Bill lifted his head and kissed her.

“I love you,” he said. “I puppy-loved you in high school and then buried it in an unused corner like a bone. But it never went away. I think I’ve always loved you.”

“And I think part of me always loved you, a little bit. But now all of me loves you—a lot.”

“Good. Does that mean we do this again? Soon?”

“How soon?”

“Now?”

And then she realized that he was hard again inside her.

“Oh my.”

The Final Piece

WFPW-FM

FREDDY: The Internet’s definitely down again, folks. Talk about a bummer.

JO: And worse, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon, ten minutes of light left.

FREDDY: Yeah. According to the Sapir curve, this is the next to last sunset. Let’s all hope he’s wrong, man.

Glaeken, feeling as low as he’d ever felt in all his millennia, had settled Sylvia Nash and her son in her apartment and was on his way back to his apartment.

“Yo, G!”

He looked up and saw Julio, the muscular little bar owner, hurrying his way down the hall.

“A lady downstair lookin’ for Jack.”

“What does she want? You let her in, I hope.”

Night had fallen. The streets would be lethal. Where had she come from?

“Yeah, but I got Doug and Nadia staying in the lobby with her. Thing is, I can’t find Jack nowhere an’ she’s real crazy ’bout seeing him.”

“Is it the woman he sent into hiding?”

“Gia? No way. I know Gia. This lady’s dark. Says her name’s Cola-body or som’ like that.”

Glaeken closed his eyes and steadied himself, making sure he’d really heard that last sentence. Could it be? Could it truly be her? Or could this be another of Rasalom’s games?

Well, he’d know soon enough.

“Bring her to the top floor. Immediately.”

A few moments later, Glaeken was waiting by the door to his apartment when Julio ushered a slim, dark, raven-haired woman from the elevator. Her clothes were torn, her hands and face smudged with grime, the dark almonds of her eyes were wide, wild, exhausted. Not at all the way Glaeken had pictured her, but he sensed the years crowded beneath the smooth youth of her skin.

He could barely drag his eyes from the necklace encircling her throat. He had to have it. How he was going to get it, he did not know, but he could not allow her to leave here with that necklace.

“Miss Bahkti?”

She nodded. “And you’re the man Jack told me about, the old one?”

The old one.
He hid his smile. Is that how he speaks of me? Well, it’s true, isn’t it?

“Yes, that would be me. Call me Glaeken. Come in.”

He nodded his thanks to Julio and ushered Kolabati into his apartment. She stumbled crossing the threshold and almost fell, but Glaeken caught her under the arm.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “No. Not in the least.”

He led her to the sofa. She all but fell into it. She rubbed a trembling hand over her eyes and sighed. She looked utterly exhausted.

“Jack told me what was happening to the world. I thought he was lying, trying to trick me. It couldn’t be as bad as he said.” She paused and looked up at Glaeken with haunted eyes. “But it’s worse. Much worse.”

Glaeken nodded, watching her closely. She seemed dazed.

“And worse is yet to come.”

She stared up at him. “Worse? Outside … one street over … something huge and black and slimy … so big it had to squeeze against the buildings on both sides to get down the street. It was covered with tentacles and it was reaching into the windows and pulling out anything it found. I heard people—children—screaming.”

“A long dark night of the soul for the survivors,” Glaeken said.

Kolabati shifted her gaze toward the fire and fingered her necklace.

“Did Jack give you the other necklace?”

“Yes.”

“Is it sufficient for your needs?”

“No.” Where was this leading?

“Then you still need this one?”

“Yes.”

“Will it make a difference?”

“It may. It may be too late now for anything to make a difference, but it is our only chance, our only hope. We must try it.”

She continued to stare at the fire. Her voice was barely audible.

“All right then. You may have it.”

A wave of relief struck Glaeken. The impact forced him to sit. But before he could speak, Jack burst into the room.

“It
is
you!” he said, glaring at Kolabati.

“Jack—” Her lips curved halfway to a smile but Jack was in her face before they reached it.

“You lied to me! You agree to come back here and talk to Glaeken, then you pull a vanishing act.”

Glaeken wanted to stop Jack before he said anything rash, but noticed that Kolabati was unfazed by the outburst. So he kept quiet.

“That’s true,” she said. “And I am here. And I’ve been talking to Glaeken.”

Jack hovered over her, his anger visibly evaporating.

“Oh. Yeah, but—”

“I said I’d come back—but on my terms, not yours. I am no one’s prisoner, Jack. Ever.”

Glaeken studied Jack and Kolabati as they faced off. He sensed more going on between these two than met the eye, but he had no time to concern himself with that. He jumped into the momentary lull.

“Miss Bahkti has agreed to give us her necklace.”

“We already have it. You said it wasn’t enough.”

“No,” Glaeken said softly. “The one she is wearing.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, Jack,” she said, her voice laden with exhaustion. “What I’ve seen here has convinced me: You were not exaggerating. Everything is falling apart. This is not a world I wish to live in. If I keep the necklace, I’ll go on living in it—indefinitely. That would be horrible beyond imagining. So I’ve decided to surrender it to someone who can make better use of it.”

“But you’ll die.”

She stared at him. “I’m well aware of that. But I wish to end my life the way I’ve lived it—on my own terms.”

“Fine. But charity isn’t in your nature, Bati. You’re a
quid pro quo
type—just like me. What’s the
quid
here? Is it losing its power? What aren’t you telling us?”

“Please, Jack,” Glaeken said, offended by his unyielding hostility. “She’s agreed to give us the necklace, the rest is really none—”

“I’ve always been upfront with Bati,” Jack said, half-turning toward Glaeken. “She knows that. She knows not to expect anything less.” He turned back to Kolabati. “What’s the rest of it?”

She rose and stepped to the window. She stared into the living darkness for a long moment.

“Karma,” she said. “What’s happening out there threatens the turning of the Karmic Wheel.”

She turned and faced Jack. Glaeken felt as if he’d been forgotten.

“You know the stains on my karma, Jack. Kusum shared those stains. The weight of that karmic burden drove him to the acts that led to his death at your hands. I’ve long feared dying because of the retribution my karma will earn me in the next life. Now … now I fear living more than dying.” She touched her necklace again. “And perhaps … if giving this up will allow the Great Wheel to keep turning … perhaps this deed will undo all the others. Perhaps this act will purify my karma.”

Jack nodded his understanding. Glaeken, too, thought he understood: Kolabati was making a deal with her gods—forgiveness of her karmic burden in return for the necklace. Glaeken wondered if truly there might be a Karmic Wheel. He doubted it. In all his many years he had seen no evidence of it. But he was not about to say anything that might dissuade Kolabati from surrendering that necklace.

Without warning, she reached both hands behind her neck, unfastened the necklace, and handed it to Jack.

“There,” she said, her voice husky, her eyes glittering. “This is what you wanted.”

Then she turned and headed for the door.

Jack stared a moment at the necklace in his hand, then started after her.

“Bati, wait. Where’re you going?”

“Outside. It will end quickly there.”

Glaeken rose and followed Jack. He passed him and caught up to Kolabati at the door. He grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“No. I cannot allow you to die like that. Not out there. Not alone.”

“Everyone dies alone.” Her eyes looked frightened, terrified of what lay beyond, waiting for her. “I’m used to being alone.”

“So was I. But I’ve learned to draw strength from companionship. Let the years take you. It will be gentle—far gentler than out there.”

“I’ll stay with you, Bati,” Jack said. “I’ll sit with you to the … the end.”

“No!” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t want you to see me—I don’t want
any
one to see me.”

A proud woman, Glaeken thought. And vain, too, certainly. But that was her privilege. He loosened his grip on her arm and clasped her hand. He found it cold, moist, trembling.

“I know a place where you can be alone and comfortable. Where no one will see you. Come.”

As he began to lead her through the door, Jack stepped forward.

“Wait.”

For the first time since Glaeken had met him, Jack looked awkward. His catlike grace was gone. The necklace hung in his hand like a leaden weight. He seemed at a loss for words.

“Please, Jack,” Kolabati said, turning to him, “I haven’t much time.”

“I know. I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve thought some awful things about you for the past few years, but what you’re doing now … it takes courage. More courage than I think I’d have if positions were reversed. I think you’re the bravest woman I know.” He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. “I … we all owe you. And we won’t forget you.”

Kolabati nodded slowly. “I know I don’t have your love, so I guess I’ll have to settle for that.” She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “Good-bye, Jack.”