Chapter 7: Justify
Kane dropped to his knees, his head thrown back and his empty eyes staring upward. His body froze like that, as if he were beseeching the sky and its false stars for answers. Something about the whole thing was mesmerizing. The gaping hole under his chin. The wall behind him splattered with red and pieces of white. The gun in my hand, smoke still curling from the barrel.
I bent down and took the twenty-two from Kane's fingers. It seemed silly, how opening his fist to take the gun back was what made him slump over. But there was no time to worry about his body—before he hit the ground, I was through the warehouse door, lunging after Hemlock as she bolted.
My aim would have been better if I hadn't had to think about which hand to use. This wasn't close-range, and neither gun was going to be spot-on at this distance. But that wasn't the biggest problem.
Even with all the planning I'd done, I'd never decided if I was going to kill her right away.
I raised the gun in my strong-hand, the twenty-two, and fired once.
The cartridge hit her in the back of the thigh. She went down hard on her side, her leg stretched out behind her. A sound caught somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted out of her as she ripped the needle from her flesh.
I hesitated when the dogs turned on me, but I kept my eyes on Hemlock. She studied the now-empty cartridge for a few seconds before tossing it away. Then she pushed herself onto her knees and twisted around to glare at me.
I mimicked her saccharine smile and tucked the twenty-two back into the waistline of my jeans, switching the revolver from my left hand to my right. I didn't know if I was going to use it, but I wasn't about to let my guard down. All the same, I kept the gun pointed at the ground as the dogs stalked forward, warning growls rumbling deep in their throats.
Like Bard, they were tall, powerfully built. They had the same steel gray, wiry coats and intelligent, almost-human eyes. I held out my empty left hand to them. Their warm breaths cascaded across my knuckles.
"I could tell them to kill you," Hemlock said, her voice ragged. "But they wouldn't. That's the problem with our dogs." The warehouse caught her words and played them back, like it needed the echo to fill the empty space. "Their morals interfere with their canine loyalty. They won't attack because you smell like their brother."
"Bran and Sceolan." My voice echoed, too.
The dogs blinked up at me, their fuzzy eyebrows pulled into reluctant scowls. Then they bowed their heads and turned away, stalking back to Hemlock's side.
She watched the dogs approach with her heavy-lidded eyes. Lips pulled into a thin line, she said, "After all this time, I hoped you'd only want to talk." There was a sardonic edge to her voice. "But you intend to kill me?"
"You're already dead."
The smugness melted right off her face, leaving behind a pale, empty mask as she glanced in the direction of the cartridge I'd shot her with. "What was it?"
"Hemlock." I gave her a pointed smirk. "I'll understand if you can't appreciate the irony. Ascending paralysis is a bitch."
With all that distance between us, I couldn't be sure if I was only imagining her smile, the predatory flash of teeth. As I raised my revolver and lined her up in the sights, I wondered if this was what hunters felt when they cornered their big game, their gun the only thing between them and the deadly animal on the other end. That strange, all-consuming knowledge that survival depended on pulling the trigger before the tables flipped. Kill or be killed.
"That's it, then?" Hemlock taunted. She crossed her arms over her chest, but couldn't hold the pose. She had to put a hand down to support herself. "There's nothing you want to ask me first?"
"No," I lied. There were plenty of things I wanted to ask her, but I was afraid of what I would hear. No matter what she said, I had to pull the trigger. "Nothing."
I adjusted my aim, switching to a two-handed grip to steady myself. Her smile sat right on top of the raised sight at the end of the barrel.
"Fine. How about I just talk instead? Where should I start? With Jack? Or your sister?"
My arms absorbed the recoil. I wasn't sure if I'd meant to wing her or if my aim was just off, but she cried out and clamped a hand over the divot of flesh missing from the top of her right arm.
"Your sister it is," she said through gritted teeth, and then the words began to spew out of her in earnest. "I did it because I was curious. Someone like her, how could I not be? A deaf and blind pianist isn't left with much to live for. She did the logical thing in the end—she would've made a good Contractor."
"Stop talking."
"And Jack. He wasn't there for you after she killed herself, was he? Not like he was after this," she hissed, pointing to the right side of her head just in front of her ear to indicate my scar. "That was after he turned. When I found out about him, I have to admit that I wondered where that would leave you. But he didn't, did he? He just left. Why did you let him go as easily as you did?"
"It wasn't easy."
"Didn't want anything to do with a Contractor? With someone like me?"
"Jack is nothing like you."
"You might not think so now, but back then—"
I only meant for it to be a warning shot; I aimed at the ground next to her, and the bullet ricocheted, kicking up a cloud of concrete dust before leaving a dent in the far wall.
I had only two bullets left.
Hemlock pursed her lips, all traces of color draining from her face. The red leaking through her fingers stood out in sharp contrast against her whiteness. Everything about her was blank, bleached out, from her hair, to her skin, to her clothes. She could have been a ghost except for all the blood.
"You think you know what happened, don't you? Like you think you know everything," I said. "You haven't changed at all."
"People never change."
I clenched my teeth and took a step towards her. The dogs growled, but made no move to attack.
"Ah. But you think he has." Hemlock smiled.
She straightened in surprise when I continued towards her, staring at her from behind the sights of my gun. I stopped fifteen feet away, far enough that I'd be able to dodge if she tried to throw anything at me. "I want to make something clear to you," I said. "I'm going to ask you one question. You can answer or not—either way, I'm putting a bullet in your head. There's no rational reason for you to choose one way or the other."
Her lips curled back from her teeth in a snarl. "What's the question?"
"What did you do to the MI-6 agents who tried to recruit you?"
Right away, I could see it wasn't the question she'd been hoping for. The disappointment on her face was almost worth stopping myself from asking her why? Why go after my sister? Why keep up with what Jack and I were doing? Why not finish what she'd started and kill me, too?
"I was curious," she said, dropping her head. "How powerful am I? How many human senses are there, and how many can I destroy? If the Syndicate is right, there's no limit to what I can do."
"The Syndicate?"
A reluctant smile spread across her face. "You didn't think MI-6 were the only ones after me, did you? Sounds like you need to have a chat with your partner in crime."
An electric pop plunged the warehouse into darkness. The sudden silence that followed lasted for only a second before I realized I had to the pull the trigger. The flash of light after the explosion revealed the empty space where Hemlock had knelt. My ears were ringing, but I could hear the echo of her footsteps as she ran away.
I started to give chase, but turned and ran towards the door behind me when the puzzle pieces snapped together. She shouldn't have been able to stand, let alone get up and flee. The hemlock hadn't worked—the ascending paralysis had never kicked in, or she'd done something to slow its progress. So the whole thing had been an act and I'd walked right into a trap.
As if I needed any more confirmation, the doorway was empty. Kane's body and the mess it had left behind were gone. I stopped just before crossing the threshold. Somewhere off behind me, one of the dogs barked. The sound didn't echo, which meant they'd found another way out of the warehouse.
Dammit. More like they'd already had their escape route planned out.
Kane was standing on the other side of the door, just out of sight. He had to be—the only question was which side he'd chosen, which side I needed to guard, which direction I was going to run.
I chose to run left, thinking I'd be able to keep the warehouse to one side while my strong hand kept my gun up. I realized too late that I'd made the rational decision.
It was the hilt of his sword—that was what I thought, at least, when something hard drove into my ribs with all the force of a homerun swing. My lungs emptied so quickly that I saw stars. Coughing and sputtering, I dove after my gun as it slipped from my hands and skidded away from me. But Kane grabbed the tail of my braid and flung me in the opposite direction.
I landed in a heap a few feet away, my scalp tingling and neck throbbing. I thought I heard drumming, but realized it was only my own heartbeat when I opened my eyes and saw Kane standing by the door. The long, gleaming line of his sword wavered in my vision.
"Didn't come alone, after all," he said. "You're not as impulsive as I thought." He raised the sword over his head and took a step towards me. I scrambled backwards as the blade whistled down. He kept coming, his momentum swelling like a wave while I clambered to stay out of reach. I was too busy kicking and pulling myself backwards over the concrete to think about what he'd said.
With a roar, he lunged forward, bringing the blade down in one long arc. In my head, I saw it connecting, cleaving through me like it was nothing. But I blocked it with my twenty-two, knocked flat on my back as Kane pushed against me. The instant he relented to pull back for another strike, I twisted away. As I jumped to my feet, I could hear the blade coming down again, as if it were sharp enough to cut the air itself as it descended.
The tip caught the back of my left shoulder, so shallow, or so deep, that, for the first few seconds, there was no pain. I felt blood, wet and warm, spreading down my back, soaking through my clothes. But my arms still worked when I stumbled and pushed myself off the ground, so I tried to keep going. The sudden stab of pain that lanced down my spine when my body realized it was injured was what took me down. Right at Hemlock's feet.
I didn't realize it was her, at first, because the dogs weren't with her. I saw the vial in her hand, floating above me like the blade of a guillotine. She was reaching for the stopper in the end when I jammed the twenty-two against her leg and pulled the trigger. Ineffective or not, the shock of the poison emptying into her bloodstream was enough to make her drop the vial. It landed with a clink and rolled away in one piece.
I didn't have time to block her hand as it came down across my face. The blow snapped my head back, setting the world to spinning. My ears were ringing as I tried to roll away, vaguely aware of her pulling back for a second swing. But right about the time her fist should have connected with my jaw, something else happened.
She yelped, and I looked up and saw her bony fingers clawing at a cable looped around her neck. Another screeching cry twisted out of her as her feet left the ground. She might have made it all the way to the roof if Kane hadn't run over and cut the line. Freed, Hemlock dropped to the concrete and flung the would-be noose away from her.
She should have been looking up.
I thought about taking a shot, but there was no way I'd be able to aim while my head was spinning and I couldn't see straight—it'd be like shooting at smoke. I wasn't even sure I knew what I was looking at. Who I was looking at.
I recognized the white mask, but his name—BK-201, Black Reaper—came to me slowly. The sharp, staccato notes of metal on metal as his knives connected with Kane's sword rang in my ears as Hemlock dove out of their way, reaching for me instead.
Her fingers latched onto my hair and pulled. "You led him here?" she roared, dragging me with her. Something about her voice had changed—it didn't sound like it belonged to her anymore. "Is your MI-6 agent here, too—?"
I wrenched out of her grip, my braid ripping loose in the process. My hair fell in front of my eyes like a screen, so I could barely see as I stumbled to my feet and lunged in the direction I thought my revolver had fallen. It made sense now, why the poison hadn't worked, why meeting her here had been too easy.
Hemlock was never here at all.
My hand closed around the stock of my gun. I saw the black gloves reaching for me, but I still thought it was her when a hand locked around my wrist and jerked me back. I realized I was wrong when, an instant later, an arm locked around my throat, and I was pinned against the chest of a body taller and stronger than mine. The Black Reaper's right hand closed over my own, keeping my finger on the trigger as he took aim at Kane.
Everything stopped.
Whether the Black Reaper intended to use me as a human shield or as a hostage, I didn't know. His mask was so close to my ear that I could hear him breathing behind it. If he'd whispered something to me, I would have understood while Kane was none the wiser. But the Black Reaper was silent, and Kane stood haloed under a streetlight a few feet away. Backlit and blurry, he was a black shadow edged in blue, with red eyes that seemed to leave trails of light as he shifted, like slow motion shots of traffic.
Hemlock, so pale and motionless and leaking red, blew away in a cloud of smoke, dissipating into the air like a ghost.
The cry that wrenched from my lungs was more sound than words. My ribs ached at the angry expulsion of air, and the Black Reaper's arm around my neck tightened into something just short of a chokehold in response.
Kane smirked as the red glow faded from his eyes. I couldn't tell if he was really swaying as he came closer or if it was just my vision. "If you're wondering if I intentionally misled you about my abilities… I did. I can clone more than just myself."
"Where is DT-812?" the Black Reaper demanded. Something about his voice, muffled by the mask, made me stiffen. I tried to turn my head enough to see his face, but the movement pulled at the edges of the laceration left by Kane's sword. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back, sticking to BK-201, as I bled out.
"I know of you, Black Reaper. The Syndicate's attack dog." Kane's sword glinted as he lowered it, his hands resting at his sides. "I tell you where Hemlock is or you make the girl shoot me? Is that how this is going to work?"
I gripped the Black Reaper's forearm with my left hand and pulled down, managing to suck in a breath. "There's only one bullet left." His hold tightened again before I could get anything else out, but I thought so make it fucking count went without saying.
His voice, louder this time, vibrated against my back. "Where is she?"
"I'm afraid I'm still not clear on the terms of our negotiation." The tip of Kane's sword lifted slightly as his grip tightened around the hilt. "You can try to shoot me if I don't tell you, but I'm fast—you might miss. And if that happens, you'll need a new bargaining chip. What do I get out of it if I tell you?" He smiled. "How about I take the girl, and we can call it a trade."
As if I were nothing more than a marionette, the Black Reaper's hand tightened over my own and guided the gun up and back. I saw it coming; I could feel my own body betraying me, but I was still surprised when the end of the barrel pressed against my temple, my own damn finger on the trigger. I went rigidly still, feeling as if my spine had fused together. I stopped breathing, but the Black Reaper's chest continued its slow rise and fall behind me.
Kane's expression tightened. "Ah. I tell you or she dies."
"Hard to miss when it's pointblank," said the Black Reaper. "You should have seen that coming."
Tremors ran up and down my arm as I pulled against him.
"You're not going to like my answer," Kane said.
"Fine." The Black Reaper's gloved finger tightened around mine, depressing the trigger by millimeters even as I struggled to stop him.
"No!" I pulled at his forearm and tried to move the gun away, change its trajectory, but it was like arm-wrestling with a statue.
"I don't know DT-812's location for precisely this reason," Kane said with a note of urgency. "She had an escape route, but I don't know where to. She's gone by now. I can't tell you her location because I don't know where she is."
"She was here?"
"Yes." He used his sword to point at me. "To capture her. I took over when things went south."
"Why?"
"Hand over Sterne, and I'll tell you."
The Black Reaper exhaled in a sigh. "You're all the same."
I started to scream as he forced me to pull the trigger. There was an explosion, and I was plunged into darkness.
"It was a trap," said Yin.
Bard kept his head down, nose resting between his paws, and continued to watch the silver-haired girl. For hours, she had been sitting with her fingertips submerged in a glass of water. In all that time, she had barely spoken.
"DT-812 was there, but she ran. The other Contractor, Kane, attempted to capture the target."
Huang huffed in impatience. "Who cares? Did Hei catch up with DT-812?"
"No."
"God dammit. Did he even try to follow her?"
Yin gave a single shake of her head. "No."
"What about Sterne?" asked the Gate Cat, prompting Bard to sit up and listen. "Did she survive?"
"Unknown. However, Hei prevented her from being captured."
The cat jumped down from his perch on one of the shelves and padded across the floor towards the girl. "Just tell us what happened, Yin."
Though Bard's predatory drive told him that the cat would be fun to chase—and possibly eat, because he was getting very hungry—he remained in his spot and only tracked the strange animal with his eyes. The Gate Cat sounded calm and reasonable. Calmer and more reasonable than the short man, anyway.
"I'll tell you what happened," Huang grumbled. "That good-for-nothing Contractor let DT-812 get away so he could play hero."
"There's got to be more to it, Huang," said the cat. "We need Sterne alive, too. Hei will get the job done. Just let this play out."
Huang crossed his arms. "You better be right, fleabag, or we'll be replaced by a team who can."
When I realized that my mind was working, that I was waking up and processing the feeling of the rough concrete underneath me, of the not-quite-soft bundle cushioning my head, I didn't have it in me to feel surprised—or disappointed, or confused, or frightened—about being alive. My body felt stiff and weak, due in no small part, I was sure, to the sticky layer of blood that had soaked the back of my shirt. Just thinking about moving or rolling over made the muscles along my left shoulder blade spasm with pain.
I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs to capacity with the night air, before opening my eyes.
The stars were out. Living, pulsating points of light against an inky background—no more a real sky than a painted backdrop at a playhouse. In this new sky, nothing ever moved, but the earth was still spinning. There was no moon, but the tides still came in and went out. I was on a roof somewhere in Shinjuku, staring up at Contractors' stars, and all I could think about was this veneer of change. The moon and the real stars were still up there—hidden, but there—and I couldn't help wondering if Contractors were like that, too. The same people they always had been, just hostages of these new stars and the powers they bestowed. Hidden, but there.
"BK-201," I said, knowing full well I might only be talking to the sky. "What's your real name?"
I listened for a very long time, but there was no answer. Just when I thought I was alone, the blurry shape of BK-201, minus his trench coat, appeared over me. The janitor's uniform was gone, replaced by an all-black getup probably meant for stealth. A new pair of knives hung in sheaths from a shoulder harness that seemed to double as a piece of body armor.
"What's your name?" I repeated, forcing a smile because that was what I'd always liked to imagine myself doing in the face of certain death. "Promise I won't tell. Cross my heart and hope to die."
"You shouldn't make promises you might not be able to keep."
"Masked men shouldn't throw knives in glass houses."
The white mask said nothing.
"Did you miss?" I asked it.
"What?"
"I'm alive, so did you miss when you shot me? Or did Kane change his mind at the last minute and tell you where Hemlock is?"
The mask remained inscrutable. He did, however, hold up my revolver and release the cylinder. Four empty casings and one unfired bullet fell into his open palm. One by one, he dropped them on the ground next to my head.
"I knocked you out, and Kane ran," he said, his words punctuated by the pings of the bullets.
Before I could begin to make sense of this, he dropped the empty gun. I flinched away from the sound of it striking concrete, and looked up to see my cell phone in BK-201's hand. As if on cue, it began to ring, and the James Bond theme song made it very clear who was on the other end of the line.
"This is the tenth time he's called. The doll must not be able to find you."
My heart had started pounding. How many hours ago did I tell Jack I'd be back? Had enough time passed that he knew something had happened? Was July looking for me, or was he still in Ikebukuro with April? Reflexively, I reached for my phone, my body curling upwards, but I fell back with a cry at the searing pain that lanced down my spine.
"Please…" With great effort, I held up my hand. "Give it to me."
"No." BK-201 put the phone to his ear. "You need to hear this."
The ringtone cut off when he answered. Before he could say anything, I shouted Jack's name—if anything, just to let him know I was still alive.
The Black Reaper turned his back to me and changed his tone to something sinister. "November 11. I think I have something of yours."
I could make out the crackle of Jack's voice coming through the earpiece, but he wasn't shouting, and I couldn't hear what he was saying.
"I'll give you the address. I'll even stay with her until you get here. She's out of bullets, and I wouldn't want someone to come along and take advantage." BK-201 looked at me over his shoulder as he recited the address for Jack, then, before ending the call, added, "I'd hurry. She's lost a lot of blood."
I stared as he set my phone down on top of an air duct. "What part of that did I need to hear?" Between the painful fluttering in my chest and the wound on my back, my voice came out labored and raspy. "You're going to kill me in front of him? Is that it?"
The Black Reaper knelt down next to me. For a moment, he only watched me from behind his mask, silent and unreadable. When he reached for my throat, I refused to look away from the mask's black eyes. But instead of feeling his fingers close around my airway, he pulled free the bundle that had been cushioning my head and picked my dropped revolver up with it.
He stood up and put his trench coat back on. "I don't intend to kill you," he said, still looking down at me. "We're even. But I want my knives back."
Gritting my teeth against the throbbing across my shoulders, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. "Why…?"
"You took them last time."
"No, I…" I wasn't sure if I should believe him. I wanted to, but he had just set up the perfect revenge scenario. If he was going to get back at Jack, now was the time. He was a Contractor; killing me was the logical thing to do.
Unless I hadn't outlived my usefulness. Or, less likely, unless BK-201 harbored a bizarre sense of honor that had somehow won out over his sense of reason.
"I don't understand," I said. "Does this have something to do with finding Hemlock?" I'd try the usefulness route first.
"Yes," he answered.
That solved that problem, at least. "You want to kill her?"
This time, he was silent and turned away from me. It was enough.
"You want her alive. Your employer wants her alive?"
"You're asking too many questions."
"Just answer me!"
He turned sharply back to me, clearly glaring behind the mask. "I'm giving you the chance to leave November out of this. Let him believe I came after you for revenge. He doesn't need to know that you bull-rushed those two Contractors alone."
"November is the only reason I'm here at all! I'm not keeping this from him."
"You already have, or he'd be the one here with you instead of me."
If I'd been able to move, I would have gotten up and walked away right then. It probably would have been less painful than admitting to myself—and to him—that he was right. Jack wasn't here now for the same reason he hadn't been with me at the wall two days ago: I'd already made the choice not to involve him more than he already was.
Maybe I could blame it on being a lone wolf since my hunt for Hemlock had begun. Maybe I could even blame Jack himself for walking out all those years ago, leaving me no choice but to act alone. But I knew it wouldn't be fair to blame Jack for something beyond his control; he'd never wanted to become a Contractor.
And maybe it was simpler than blaming anyone. What Hemlock had done to me was personal. She'd singled me out for reasons I didn't understand, and I was determined to take her down on my own. Tonight, I'd almost had her. I'd been so close to ending it all, but for Kane's trickery.
Somewhere on the street below us, an engine revved before cutting off, punctuated by the sound of a car door slamming shut. The Black Reaper glanced towards the noise. As he walked to the edge to look down, I took a breath and steeled myself.
"I trust November. I have no reason to trust you. You should want me dead, except you think using me is the only way to get Hemlock to show herself. But I'm not going to help you, because you want her alive, and I want her dead. So whatever you're going to do to me, just do it."
Still peering over the ledge, the Black Reaper shook his head. "Like I said: I don't intend to kill you. Not tonight."
"Right, so, as soon as morning comes, I better start watching my back, huh?"
What sounded like a snort of frustration came from behind the mask. "Think about it, but you had better make a decision quickly. November is here." Quickly, he walked to the opposite edge of the roof and pulled a loop of wire free from the reel on his belt. A carabiner glinted on the end.
I wasn't expecting any final parting words after that, so I almost didn't hear when he said, "My name is Hei," and then jumped off the roof.
"Well?" said the Gate Cat.
Li stood in the doorway, a black bundle tucked under one arm. "DT-812 was there, but she got away."
"But I hear Sterne is just fine," Huang said, feigning relief. "Did she remember you?"
"What do you think?" Li snapped.
"Don't talk back to me, kid! It's not my fault she took you out after that PANDORA fiasco."
"It was a lucky shot, Huang, give him a break." The cat sat down in front of Bard and turned his attention back to Li. "Hei, did she say anything that might help us find DT-812?"
"No. But the Syndicate was right—Charlie and DT-812 have some kind of personal connection."
The cat seemed to frown, his whiskery eyebrows pulling inward as he looked down at his paws. "So she's still our best lead."
"You've got to find out what she knows. The Syndicate's grasping at straws, here, and if you can't do it, we're as good as done! We'll be replaced."
Li set the bundle down on the counter much harder than necessary. "That isn't going to happen."
"It won't if you do this right!"
"Huang, relax." Bard watched as the cat got up and silently crossed the room, the tip of its tail twitching like a lure. "The mission is still salvageable."
Huang swatted his hand in frustration. "Look, Hei, I don't care how you get the information out of her! Sweet-talk her, torture her, screw her—just do your damn job!"
A/N: It's alive! And it only took me more than half a year to get this chapter up, for which I sincerely apologize. I have a ton of excuses for why I dropped off the map for so long, but here are the most interesting: I graduated from college! Got a job editing a magazine. Moved into a new house. A novella I wrote got published. And I adopted a sociopathic dog and named him Hei.
Just kidding. He's not sociopathic and his name is Finnegan.
Now that I no longer have schoolwork to worry about and I've got some spare time, this story will be updating regularly(ish) again. It's going to get finished one way or another. I'm also working on a short prequel about Charlie and Jack in his pre-Contractor days. That was going to be my holiday surprise for ya'll, but I missed all the holidays, so... I'll post it before this story gets to Jack's last hoorah!
Lastly, the song: Don't Touch, by Bleak