Terminus (25 page)

“Yeah, right.”

This was the part where the dark vapor should appear. 

But it didn’t.

Instead, the scant cotton clouds above them parted and the full moon emerged.  Heart racing, Nick peered out over the San Diego skyline as a pair of ravens cawed and flew past the top of the skyscraper.  He’d flown countless times over the earth like those dark birds, never fearing he might fall.  But now, were Lena to let go of his arm he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t lose his balance, topple, and make modern art of himself on the concrete below.

“So, Nikolai...” Each time she spoke his name he felt a little more strength ebb from him.  “Are you in?”

Best act as if he knew what she was talking about.  But this felt really, really wrong.  “Tell me more.”

“I’ll be in touch with the details.  Glad you’re with us.”

“A bit presumptuous, aren’t you?”

“I know what I want.  I always get it.”  She loosened her grip.  “Run along, Nikolai.”

But Nick grasped her wrist.  She obviously thought he knew about this “major operation.”  No matter, he’d sort it out another time.  Right now his only concern was to get down from the skyscraper in one piece. 

“Send me,” he whispered in her ear.

“Seriously?”  Lena smirked.  “Why?”

He couldn’t tell her that if he tried to go off on his own he might end his human life before it really began.  Instead, he ran his fingertips through her silky hair and stroked her face. 

“Because I like it so much more when you do it to me—transporting me the way you did today feels so...I don’t know...”

“Carnal?” She lowered her voice to a seductive, breathy register. “All right, how do you want it?”

“Transport me back to the ground.  It makes my toes curl.”

She turned him around to face the open sky.  Slipping behind him, she wrapped her arms around him, pressed her hand over his chest, then nuzzled the nape of his neck and cooed.  For a brief moment, his mortal flesh was tingling.  As soon as he realized it, he refocused.

He had to get away from this creature whose warm breath tickled his ear.

 “Can’t wait to make you come to me again,” she whispered.

“That so?”

“Mmmm...Ready?”

He took a deep breath, then nodded.  But curiosity got the best of him.  He looked back and saw her eyes—really saw them.  He was certain he’d seen eyes like that before, been the target of that ghastly expression. 

“Just what kind of angel are you, Lena?”

“Angel?” She laughed as she shoved him off the ledge of the skyscraper. 

62

RELIEVED THAT HE’D SUCCEEDED in getting Lena to transport him safely to the ground, Nick found himself standing on the sidewalk outside the entrance of One America Plaza.  Save for a group of street-gang types loitering on the curb by their pimped-out rides, there were few people out in the city at this hour.

Which is what made the very tall, very muscular quartet in black leather and dark sunglasses stand out all the more when they appeared out of nowhere.  The woman was at least six feet, and the three men at least eight inches taller and built like NFL linebackers.  As they approached the skyscraper, headed straight toward Nick, the woman bumped shoulders with a street gangster who stood a bit taller than she, though definitely shorter than the men. 

“Oh no you didn’t!”  He said, and pulled out a knife.  “Whassup wit—?”

Before he could finish, the woman in black shoved her hand into his chest.  He flew back with such force that his body knocked two of his friends down like bowling pins.

Without missing a beat, the leather clad crew swaggered on.

Part of Nick wanted to bolt, part of him wanted to know who these creatures were.  Extraordinary humans, if they even were human. 

The leader, an Asian male, stepped right up to him—towering over Nick by about a foot.

“Evening, mates,” Nick said. 

But they walked right past him. One of them—an African American about six inches taller than Nick—turned around as he passed, lowering his shades just long enough for Nick to recognize him as the man he’d met back in New York at Grand Central Station.

“Goliath—I mean, Johann?”

He kept walking, rejoining the rest of the crew a few feet away.  Good.  Nick was still invisible. 

“You’re late,” Lena said from over their tall frames.  Nick couldn’t see her, but her voice was unmistakable.  He whirled around just in time to catch a glimpse of the dazzling flash that enveloped the five of them, just before they disappeared.

Nick stared in wonder at the place from which Lena and her entourage had vanished.  Whatever she was up to, he wanted nothing to do with it.  Managing territories and all that rot—none of it meant a thing to him now that he’d committed to a mortal life with Hope.

But he had to come up with some way to bow out.  Things were becoming increasingly dangerous. 

Right now he was tired and wanted to go home.  That meant being with Hope.  He willed himself to return to her, waiting for him back at La Jolla.

Nothing happened.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried harder.

Nothing.

A sharp pain entered his head like molten lava seeping into his eyes, his ears, nose, and mouth. 

A man walking a Jack Russell terrier stopped. 

“You okay, mister?”

He didn’t know how long he waited to respond, but the pain had subsided.  And he was visible. 

“I’m fine.” His nose was running, he wiped it with the back of his hand. 

Blood.

Not again.

“You need help,” the man said.

“No, really, I’m all right.”

“Nuh-uh.”  He pulled out his cell phone.  “I’m calling you an ambulance.”

Nick started walking.  “It’s just a nose bleed.  Get lost!”

But the guy and his now barking dog followed him. 

“Mister, just hold still, will you?  I’ve dialed 911, just...hold on!”

Not feeling strong enough to outpace them, Nick cast a construct on the well-meaning nuisance.  To his surprise, it worked.  Gripping his dog’s leash with a shaky hand, the man froze in his tracks and began shaking and blubbering.  The construct would wear off in a few minutes, by which time Nick would be long gone.  But the unfortunate good Samaritan would never forget it.  And that brought about a twinge of guilt.

Nick walked to the corner and flagged down a taxi.  As it drove off, he chided himself for the construct he’d projected on the poor guy. 

Really, Nick?  Godzilla?

63

FOR GEORGE WALKER IT’S A HAPPY DAY.  Not many of those since that night two years ago when he got home to find his wife and mother of his only child gone.  Forever gone.

“You done good, George,” Frank Jones says, “I’m real happy for you.” A slap on the back and Frank starts toward the back of the bus. “You coming?”

“You go on, Frank. I’m waiting here for my daughter, we going to celebrate.  My little girl’s eighteen today!”

“Woo-weee!  Eighteen already? Better keep an eye on her!” Frank steps through the back door of the bus, which hisses shut. George turns around in response to a light tap on his shoulder.

“Why, Punkin’!”

“Hey, Daddy! Did you get it? Did you get it?”

“How long you been watching me, all quiet?”

She looks down. “The whole time you were talking with Mister Frank.”

George leans in close.

“You know what I told you about that kind of stuff. People see you pulling that, and—”

“No one saw me, not even you. So don’t worry, okay?” She clasps her hands, barely containing her excitement. “Did you get it?”

“Not yet, Punkin’.  I just got paid, I ain’t had a chance to—”

“Not my birthday present, Daddy.  The promotion! Did you get it?”

His eyes light up and his wide grin returns.

“Say hello to the new assistant manager!”

She lets out a squeal and throws her arms around him.

“I knew you’d get it, Daddy, I knew it!”

“Thank you, Punkin.  Now come on, I’m hungry—how about you?”

“Uh HUH!”

“I’m taking you to Charlie’s, then dinner!”

“Milkshakes first? Are you crazy?”

 “Guess I am,” he says.

Both laughing, they walk down Carlton Boulevard as the sky turns dark. Yellow streetlights illuminate the snow beginning to fall again, slow lazy flakes.  She used to catch them on her tongue.

The air around them seems hushed as the snowfall grows heavier.  Ice crunching under their feet, they take a shortcut through the back alley to Charlie’s. To their left and right are the windowless brick walls of factory buildings, ahead a dim glow that provides the only light.

George sees three men coming toward them.  Which wouldn’t necessarily be so bad, but when they get close he sees they’re wearing ski masks.

And then they stop.  Right in front of him.

“You must think you’re one really special nigger, George,” one of them says.

“I don’t want no trouble,” he says, but at the same time his arms tighten and his fists ball up. “I’ll ask you kindly to step aside and let us—wait a minute.  Larry, is that you? What the hell you doing—”

That gets him a sock in the jaw—and a terrified gasp from Punkin’.

George stands defiant, prepared to fight. But then the man he could swear is Larry draws a knife. The other two grab Punkin’ by the arms. She struggles, but George shakes his head, warning her.

“You got to be the first nigger I ever heard of taking a job from a decent white man, George.”

“I ain’t take nothing. It’s called a promotion!”

The man charges forward and drives the blade straight at George’s chest.  To his astonishment, George catches his wrist, stopping the tip of the blade about an inch above his heart.  He twists the knife out of his grip, and throws it down the alley.

It’s followed by one of Punkin’s attackers—she’s freed herself and thrown him all the way across the alley.  As his body crashes against the brick wall George hears a thud accompanied by the sound of cracking bones.

The second goon pulls a knife of his own and slashes it straight at Punkin’s face. The entire blade curls as it fails to cut or penetrate her eye socket.  From the corner of George’s eye, he sees her grab his wrist and twist.

The bones in his forearm snap like twigs.

He turns his attention back to Larry, who’s looking for the knife. George goes after him.  Before long he and Larry are wrestling for the advantage of weapon and position in the snow, and Larry is winning.  He has George pinned down and is raising the knife.

Punkin’ leaps over, just as it’s poised to plunge into his heart.  She grasps the sleeve of his jacket, slick with snow and water.

But his sleeve slips.

And the knife plunges in.

Too quickly for her to stop it.

“NO!” With both hands she seizes Larry, swings him over her head, and throws him up high against the factory wall.  

His body smashes against the fire escape rail on the fourth floor.  

George struggles to stay conscious, as the sound of Larry’s blood dripping from the rail onto the snow sends a shudder through him.

Punkin’ runs back to kneel beside him, tears streaming down her face. 

“Daddy, hang on—you have to hang on, I’m going to get some help.”

He shakes his head. “Forgive them...they don’t know what they doing.”

“How can you say that, Daddy!  They’re animals!  I’ll—”

He reaches up, grasps her hand. 

“Listen to me…Lena.  I love you…more’n anything. You ain’t…”

 “Please, Daddy, don’t leave me alone here!”

His breath’s growing short, the final gasps. 

“Be...strong.  You...ain’t like...”  He takes one last breath. “Like her.” 

She presses her face against his...

And abandons all hope.

All alone in this world full of savages, Lena Walker has no one to turn to when the rage threatens to overtake her.  And now, it has grown into hatred. 

Just like Momma, she will never be able to live at peace with humans.  She’s known but one good man among them all.  And they killed him. 

No longer will she restrain herself for the sake of “blending in” or to please her father.  Nor is there any point in forgiving that which must be punished or avenged, if not eradicated like a disease.

 “I’m sorry, Daddy…I am exactly like her.”

64

STANDING IN A CONSTRUCT CREATED for the sake of her lieutenants, Lena’s eyes slowly swept a black-walled chamber in which the candidates she’d chosen were seated.   Determined to impress her supervisor no matter the cost, she’d summoned the best of the best for this operation.

Each of them possessed a unique talent born of their unique backgrounds and cultivated over the ages.  These were the most disciplined and powerful, therefore the most efficient, of all the candidates.   Gunther, Johann, Dan, and Serena stood in a semicircle around her as still as trees.

She clapped her hands twice.  “Look alive, everyone.”

They stood at attention.

“Now, listen carefully.  We’re about to meet with a powerful executive from the High Command.  None of you speaks unless I say so, is that clear?”  Four nods.  “Good.  Your only job here is to instill confidence, is that clear?” 

More nods, followed by dead silence.

“All right.  Here we go.”