Disclaimer: Not mine, yet again. Just what you don't recognize as what the original creators of Now You See Me have written.
Chapter 11: Come Out and Play
Anastasia
oOo
Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA
City Population: 248
Current time: 7:34 am, Eastern
Current date: July 12, 2013
Current alias: None
In all sorts of ways, shapes and forms, sleep to me is dreams of Hell. But it wasn't because of this that I didn't sleep that night. It was because of a certain boy just a story beneath my own two silently pacing feet. I had begun to get dizzy a while ago from all the turning I was doing, but I was too confused to give in to my spinning head. I paced and I paced and I paced all through the night, remembering the feel of his lips on mine, his hands around my waist, his hair brushing my face...
For once, I had been right to run away. Never before had I felt this way about anyone. And it scared me more so than sleeping, dreaming, killing one more person. Any of those would be easier to me than going down to face this boy and tell him that this was something.
I didn't notice the sun streaking through the blinds until it hit my eyes and I squinted in the golden brightness. Damn, I really had been pacing all night.
The stairs creaked only once as I stepped down them quietly, now in black leggings and a dark gray tank top. I descended slowly, contemplating how it had come to be that the Hell in my dreams had leaked into my waking hours once again.
I blended myself into the shadows behind the kitchen's sliding door, listening first and glancing at the light streaming from under the door. The black shape and the sound I heard was something like somebody sauntering towards the cherry-wood table and plopping themselves onto it, facing away from me. Female, long hair, bare feet, leather gloves (judging by the sound the material made when it touched a ceramic mug).
Henley, as expected, swung around to face me when I entered and dropped her arms from their defensive pose. She was, in fact, sitting on the table instead of in a chair, staring at me both surprised and expectantly as she went back to sipping her mug of iced mocha (I was ninety-eight percent positive that's what it was).
"You're up early," I yawned over at her, going to the fridge to grab a root beer. Started that habit when I was twelve. Never missed a day since, even when I skipped town.
"You were up late," she said mischievously. She glanced at the drink I was popping open with my teeth. "Who drinks root beer in the morning? And who opens a can like that?"
"I was, I do and I do. Guess you were never up to notice." I shrugged and took a long swig.
I hopped up up onto the counter once more, staying as far away from last night's spot as I could and stared back at her. We stayed as such for a long while, just staring and sizing each other up before I looked away and out the window, observing a bluebird just start the beginnings of a nest in a holly bush.
"Sooo... what's up with you and Black?"
I groaned and leaned back, spinning so that I was stretched across the end of the counter on my back, the RB bottle resting on my stomach. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing, and that is the end of that. Nobody needs to know more, nobody needs to think more—"
She cut me off, a habit of hers but one I had managed to learn to deal with. "Well, I'm glad of that..." What?"...because I think Jack would be disappointed if anything were going on." Oh, sweetie, you have no idea.
"Why on earth would you think that?" I asked her, turning my head to look at her. Don't tell her anything about last night. She's a good information leak. I could feel the condensation from the cold RB building up on my tank, and I used my free hand to wipe it away.
"Oh, please. I spent a year running away from the FBI with him. He's absolutely transparent despite first appearances, and it's easy enough to tell that he likes you, Anastasia."
I looked back up at the ceiling, studying the little white dots. "How could he? I'm a savage."
"You are not a savage," she insisted. "You're helping us, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but only by shutting down the organization that trained me. I murdered people to keep myself alive." By now, I was back in my original position, swigging the bitter-sweet liquid like there was no tomorrow. "I passed by other people just like me every single day at HQ."
"Well, you feel guilty about that, don't you?"
"Of course I did!" I laughed quietly.
"Then you're not a savage. A savage wouldn't care."
"But I killed people."
"But you felt bad about doing it."
I sighed. "Let me spell it out for you. Every time I saw a face with the life draining from it, this was torture in and of itself."
"Anastasia, listen-"
"Can I finish?"
My voice was testy, harsher than usually, and she obviously thought so too when she shut her mouth and nodded at me to continue.
"More often than not, I was the last person they saw, heard, spoke to. Almost all of them, if they had the chance, said something before they died." I'd finished the bottle, pushing it backwards across the counter and into the sink on the opposite side behind me. I suddenly felt lost without it. "Most were mercy calls or pleas of innocence."
"As is expected when you're being murdered."
I looked down and studied the tattoos on my arms, turning them over as I talked and memorizing them for the thousandth time over. "I remember every single person I killed, but especially the ones that asked me to say goodbye. They told me that their husband or their wife or a sibling, friend, parent out there who would miss them. They wanted that person to know they had thought of them in their final moments." I glanced up at Henley curiously. "Hypothetically, who would you say?"
She thought for a moment. "My parents." I nodded, but raised an eyebrow, sensing the 'but'. "But, if you ever tell him this I will personally tie you up above a tank full of starving piranhas." I snorted, but motioned her to go on. "I'd say goodbye to Danny."
I smiled. "Was that so hard?"
She ignored my question, instead allowing her face to adopt a grin of its own. "Whoa, you have teeth? I don't think I've ever seen you smile before." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "You were telling a story?"
The smile drooped and my eyes came back down to my ink-covered arms. "Yeah, sorry." I cleared my throat, continuing. "This one woman: I remember every last one of her final words. 'Tell my little girl I said goodbye. She's probably watching Loony Tunes right now. Tell her I'll see her again someday, and it will seem like a very long time, but she'll be fine. Tell her that Mommy found her favorite blanket up in the attic. She was so worried about that blanket. You tell her I'll never stop loving her.' And you know what I did?"
"Killed her?"
"The Devil himself would have greeted me at Hell's gates if I hadn't."
"So you had to. It was for your own good."
"It was selfish. She had so much more than I ever could."
"Anastasia, you have to keep telling yourself that you didn't have a choice." She sighed when I shook my head again and took another tender sip of her iced mocha. "Did you tell her daughter?"
"I wrote that little girl a letter in the woman's handwriting and told her everything her mother had said to me. I folded it up and I put it through her mail slot. I don't know if HQ every found out."
Henley stared at me with her big doe eyes and spoke without a waver present. "Are you ever going to admit to yourself that your not a barbarian from the stone ages?"
"Well, at least not one from the stone ages," I replied jokingly, trying hard as I might to keep the tears from glistening on my eyes.
She just shook her head and smiled, sliding from the table and flouncing out of the room, taking her mug with her. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." Ironic.
I looked after her for a bit. "What's that supposed to mean?" I called down the hallway, but she shook her head again and waved a hand dismissively in my direction.
It wasn't long after that, as usual, I heard feet tromping down the stairs heavily and my phone began to ring. The Horsemen from upstairs made their way into the kitchen: Daniel, Merritt, Jack. I vaguely noticed the latter was slightly more hesitant, but I don't have much time when I realize that I don't know the number (Coming from Crows Landing, so not a sales call. Not Black or anyone from the Eye and not a payphone. Just an unknown number… but somebody who somehow has mine).
I'd only just begun to assess the situation before my finger dragged across the SLIDE TO ANSWER bar and I brought the phone up to my ear.
Henley had just walked back into the room upon hearing my phone ring, because it never does. All four of them give me questioning looks, but I wave them off.
"And you are…?" I said into the phone.
"Oh, you know who it is, Anastasia." The deep gravely voice that I know all too well spoke back to me. "Why don't you come outside and play?"
I bit the inside of my lip as I came down from my spot and crept towards the window, staying to one side and peering through the blinds outside. Nothing. "Oh, I don't know about that. It sounds a little... dangerous." I heard the others coming up behind me, but I shooed them away from the towards the center of the room.
I heard him laugh. "It always is, isn't it? Just come on out, my dear, and nothing will happen to your friends."
"Well, I would, but I'm afraid I can't find you. If you wanted to play hide-and-seek, you could have just told me. But I don't suggest playing games with me now."
"I'm right outside, dearest. But you know it's all just a game that I'm playing. Now do come out and join in. It's oh, so boring with just these motley crew. And besides, I've got a very special someone who would just love to see you again."
I glared, not sure whether to assume he could see it or not. "You show me yours, I'll show you mine."
"That's not that way it works, Anastasia. Come to the front door, love."
I growled into the phone, turning to the Horsemen. STAY HERE, I mouthed. I MEAN IT.
The door creaked open slowly as I stepped one foot out, trying my best to be all too careful in these sorts of situations. We're dealing with him, after all.
There he was. The Devil himself, leaned against the car and smoking a pipe, black shades resting on a nose too bug for his head and covering his eyes. His hair was much grayer now and he seemed a little more wrinkled around the face. I'd forgotten how much his ego added to his short height. He carried himself like a king like the king he knew he was perceived to be. Nobody knows his real name—with the exception of his son—but instead they all know him by 'Diablo'. It just fits.
"Ah, there you are! I was afraid I would never find you! You always were the best at hiding—now it's your turn to seek. Let's see how long it takes, dearest."
I hit the end button my phone rather harshly when I spoke. "You've gotten old, Diablo. You may not have many places to hide anymore."
"Ah, but there are always new ones, ones that you don't know about and new ones I can build, and they're better than any I've ever used before."
"So it's true, then," I press. "You have been fanning out of your comfort zone. France, is it?"
"Somebody spoiled all my fun! Who told you? Was it my son? I bet it was! Ah, C'est la vi." His head ducked to one side a little as if looking behind me. "Oh, look! You're friends are all here, too! What fun, what fun, what fun!"
I spun only to find that, indeed, all Four Horsemen were standing in the doorway. If I hadn't been where I was and dealing with who I was, I would have punched all their faces in. But now was not the time, and I would soon run of it.
"What the hell happened to 'stay put'? Idiots!" I hissed at them. I turned back to Diablo. "Let them go, Diablo. Let them go, and I won't put up a fight."
He smiled and removed his sunglasses. "Anastasia, whatever are we going to do with you? We both know that you couldn't possibly win a fight against me, no matter my age. And if you did miraculously manage to defeat me—which you wouldn't—I have a little extra incentive for you to come peacefully."
He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers royally and I looked back at the Horsemen again. Sniper lines, hundreds of them, danced red jigs all over the frozen magicians behind me. (Focus, Anastasia, focus! Most angled from downtown. Long-range, government issue. Most likely stolen, then. Some are from higher up, though, so all the way from that corporate town next door. Those are different issue-handmade, specially crafted. New guns, I've never seen them before. The Caste developed them, then.) The information was good bu terrifying, helpful yet dismantling. This was just enough to make anyone get into the Devil's black sports car.
One last though crossed through my brain before I could take a step forwards, plead for his mercy.
"You're going to kill them anyway, that was your plan all along." I hadn't thought it possible for his smile to grow any wider. "You knew that I had been assigned to protect them and you knew that Black was looking for me, but you let him go because you knew he would go to your enemy. You knew exactly where both of us were, but you just waited until we though we had escaped you forever to prance right back in, all high and mighty."
He began to clap his hands slowly, almost sarcastically."Well done, deary! Well done!" He dropped his hands and twirled the sunglasses around and around by the handle. "Though, I must admit, it took me about a year to find you again after you had escaped. Rather genius, your plan. My son, however, was all too easy. Never was quite as good you. Funny, that." he sighed dramatically. "Come on, we have places to go and people to see," he finished in a sing-song tone, beginning to step forwards.
"You didn't answer me. You're going to kill them anyways, right?"
He stopped in his tracks and seemed to ponder for a second before finally reaching a conclusion and his whole face lit up. "Only if you fight back. If you came with me and cooperated, then they wouldn't die. But. If. Not..."
He trailed off and I looked behind me once more. Several new red lines were being added by the second to their clothing, their skin, their faces. All their expressions were set, like they knew what was going to happen and accepted it.
"I'll go with you. I won't fight you, I won't object. Just don't kill them," I whispered, trying to keep my fear from carrying out on my voice.
I tried to not pay attention to the others when I heard Jack shouting at me to stop, barley being restrained by Merritt, always the reluctant father-figure trying to calm everyone down. I had to make my mind stay at this level of intense concentration for my 'game' with Diablo.
He put on a thoughtful face. "What's the magic word?"
I squinted, wondering whether the red haze fixating itself in my vision was from my anger at him or my fear for the Horsemen. It felt strange: "PLEASE." I never beg.
He smirked that God-awful smirk that I had come to hate with every fiber of my being. "There, that's better. Now, get into the car, Anastasia, like a good girl, and we'll be on our way."
I glowered at him, pure hatred and death threats spinning webs around my brain as we took steps towards each other, his more sure and purposeful than mine. But I was working on something. In the very far depths of my mind, I focused hard on the kitchen table, putting all my focus and energy into that one spot, attempting to do something I had never done before. I began to hum.
My head was spinning and the world was tilting on it's side by the time I couldn't concentrate any longer. I felt someone catch me before I had braced myself for impact, which took me by surprise. Diablo's coffee-stained smile and reddened eyes were the only things I could see. He should have let me fall. Son of a bitch.
"Ta-ta, all," I heard him say.
I was aware that I was being lifted into The Devil's arms and slung over his shoulders, and I was aware that the Horsemen were shouting after me. I felt myself being thrown down into the back seat of the car and my head smash against the opposite door. The open door slammed shut, and I felt the car speeding off at a swiftness I knew would have rivaled NASCAR. The only thing I was really thinking about was the message I hoped I had managed to leave on the kitchen table.
They had better find it.
Jack
oOo
The second I noticed that Maggie was not all in her game-eyes squinted and her brows furrowed-I knew she was trying to tell us something (was she humming? She never hums. That must mean something). I just didn't know what yet. Still in her tank top, I could see her suck in a breath, a hand flying to her thigh, just above her knee (she didn't even notice she did it, I think) and for a second, I thought she had been shot. Rage shot through me, and I struggled harder against the hands holding me back.
Then her eyes were back open, and she was tipsy-looking, spinning, falling. Diablo and I rushed for her at the same time, but he got there faster, holding her in his arms. It made me sick. I stopped, falling to my knees, watching as he picked up her small, nearly unconscious body, hanging limp and weak from his old arms.
He said something, but I didn't hear it. I watched as he threw her into the car, seeing her head hit the door on the other side (I could hear the crack all the way from here). Red splashed across my vision in rage and I could just about feel the pain for her. Diablo got into the passenger side and motioned for the driver to take him away. I watched as the car sped off, faster than I thought a car could possibly go, but Anastasia had told me all the wonders the Caste could think up, create, do.
She was gone.
All the rest of them were beside me, Henley on the ground and wrapping her arms around me (she knew about everything, she had to know); Daniel staring at the brightening sky where the car had shot off into the distance; Merritt crouching with a hand on my shoulder, eyes level with mine and staring right at them (he probably knew by then, too. He was a mentalist, after all).
It only reminded me of her, but I had to keep strong. For our team, for Dylan... for Anastasia.
"Kid. Kid!" It took me a while to realize Merritt was shouting in my face. "I know where they're taking her. Back up to HQ in New York City, okay? But if we want to get there, we need three things: a plan, Dylan and Black."
"How do you know where they're taking her?" Daniel asked, eyes jumping from their focus on the distance.
I saw Merritt glare at him. "Mentalist, remember?" He stood and let go of my shoulder. "Before she got dizzy and fell over like a sack of potatoes, she was leaving us a message. Somewhere in the kitchen, if I'm right."
"I know," I managed, running the scene over in my head and picking out details. "She started to hum."
Daniel and Merritt were running, Henley was helping me up, and then all of us were gathered around the cherry-wood table. The letters were smoldering, actually burned into the surface of the table, though fading and becoming less intense towards the end.
So don't follow me, don't follow me
I'm bound to a place I can't recall
I feel the big jet's rise through midnight skies
I'll search for the answers alone
And wait for the time to go home
She loved this song (strange, because she hated country music) and she used to listen to it on repeat for hours while she would fiddle with the security monitors-who know what she was doing. It was Alison Krauss' Don't Follow Me.
Typical Anastasia-she'd want something meaningful tattooed on her if she was giving us a message, especially one meant only for us; one that Diablo hadn't known she'd left.
"That was what she'd grabbed her leg for," Merritt realized. "It wasn't just an illusion this time; she'd actually made something real, and that's why it hurt so much when the ink began to form."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Henley asked, voicing the thoughts I couldn't get my mouth to say.
He tilted his head. "You mean you hadn't figured it out?" Henley shook her head and Daniel looked ready to punch him if he didn't continue. "The tattoos are the illusions she makes. Every time she makes one, she gets a new tattoo. The bigger they are, they more they hurt when they form and the more obvious the place is when it's created."
It made sense. No way she would have risked her safety while she was on the run just to get some tats. Demonstration later, I remembered her saying. She was going to show us exactly that, after we'd been asking about her tattoos.
We glanced back at the message then at one another, blankly and simultaneously, and I knew were all think the exact same thing. As said before, no way in hell.
