Chapter Nineteen
Colter
“Package came in for you,” Elias says, resting a pink plastic folder on the counter. “Voodoo said it was urgent. At least, that’s what I think he said. I don’t understand a lick of that Neo-Nova broken English bullshit.”
I take the folder and slide it into one of the many secure compartments in my coat. He may be young, and may not understand what working for the Ghost truly means for him, but Voodoo’s efficiency is remarkable.
In less than a week, he’s managed to get me an entire dossier on The Other. Judging by the weight pulling down the front of my coat, I’d be surprised if I didn’t have a full history of the man’s life up to this point.
“Nothing to worry about, then. Neo-Nova won’t last long. Nothing ever does in Midnite City,” I say, waiting patiently for him to give me the signal.
“Better not. I swear I’ll clock the next kid who walks in here talking that jive.” He wheezes a laugh and steps around the counter. “We doing this?”
I nod.
Elias clicks a button under the counter and the neon sign outside blinks from OPEN to CLOSED.
Not that there’s much need. Aside from the fact that it’s a little after nine, paperbacks and hardcovers are dead media.
This bookstore is funded and run by the Veil’s black budget and only survives because I need it to.
He presses another button to begin the elevator’s ascent. We walk, side by side, to the shelf full of untouched science fiction novels.
“Have you heard?” I don’t say more than that. If he has, he’ll know what I mean.
“I have.” Elias strips off his smoker jacket and button-down before we reach the elevator.
“Any thoughts?”
We enter and I press the button to take us down.
“None you’ll want to hear.” He’s shuffling behind me, changing out of his trousers and into a pair of black sweatpants.
“Try me, I’m full of surprises these days.” My mind instantly travels to Lilith.
But soon after, with a thudding in my chest, I think of the girl whose name I’d forgotten from high school. I’ve lived more than double my time on Earth since I knew her. Thirteen then. Twenty-eight now. The message Elias drilled into me couldn’t be more fitting.
I cling to it. Again and again.
Emotion is weakness.
Weakness is death.
“Maxwell’s imprisonment is for the good of the Veil, so says the Head.” Elias releases a strained humph. I can’t tell if it’s to go with his statement, or comes from the labor of changing in a confined space. “It wouldn’t be wise to question it.”
“But I must.” This juggling act of being the Ghost and dirty daydreaming about Lilith has left me feeling as if I’ve lost myself. As if I am betraying the core principles of how to survive as the Veil’s sword and shield.
The way she looked at me after we hugged. She felt my cock’s rude interruption and didn’t pull away disgusted…
I feel the need to think about everything. My own intentions with her, but moreover the Head’s intentions for her mother and if they’re going to get in my way.
It’s infuriating.
Lilith shouldn’t factor into my decision-making when it comes to the safety and protection of the Veil. And yet, the more time I spend with her, in my head or in person, the more blurred the lines between the two become.
“I know, but I’m not so sure you’ll like what you find, Ghost.” Elias pats me on the shoulder.
It dawns on me, with this simple gesture, that Elias isn’t denying or lying in his answer. He’s nudging me to ask the correct questions. He won’t say anything outright unless he has to, another order from the Head, I’m sure, but there’s something weighing heavily on his chest.
“Any word on who will replace Maxwell as Hand?” I ask. The first and only question that could inspire this reaction in him.
“More than a word. The Head asked me to take his place,” he says.
“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” I growl.
The elevator’s hum ceases as we reach our destination, and with it, our conversation for the moment.
“It must be Thursday night.” Iniko doesn’t wait for us to enter my lair to speak. She’s leaning over her desk; her eyes fixed on Elias’s body as we pass. It’s become one of her weekly rituals, catcalling my mentor, before a training session.
“Thought I felt a tingle somewhere I shouldn’t.”
“Trust me, doll, you can’t handle any of this,” Elias chuckles, motioning up and down his body with both hands.
I wonder if I’ll do the same when my replacement becomes Ghost. Find enough peace to laugh freely and to play along with the silliest of situations. It’s one of the very few questions I’ve never asked Elias. Whether he was like me in his youth. Whether normalcy is a learned trait.
Or if I’m just different. Broken. Am I destined to live this harsh cruelty forever?
The part of me that wants an answer does not outweigh the part that doesn’t. If this is it, then I’d rather experience it alone and dream of what could or couldn’t be.
Too many ifs. I should be focusing on the fight, not questioning the future.
“You know that makes me want it more, don’t you?” Iniko flutters her long black lashes at Elias, chewing on her lip seductively.
“Did I ever tell you, I think there’s something wrong with her?” Elias asks in a hushed whisper, loud enough for Iniko to hear.
On principle, I refuse to play along with this game.
“It’s not my fault you’re parading that hot bod of yours for everyone to see,” Iniko shouts as we pass her.
We walk beneath an arching wall filled with monitors that my team uses for briefings and missions and reach the training room. It isn’t much in the way of a gym, with two punching bags on one side, a weight bench and treadmills on the other, and we rarely use them anyway.
We stay in the middle, on a lightly padded section of floor. Our sparring ground.
“When is the announcement?” I return to our conversation once we’re far enough from Iniko’s ears and eyes.
“The Head wants to announce it with immediate effect tomorrow night. After the wedding and the Spirit’s welcome into the fold.” Elias stretches his arms and shoulders.
I grit my teeth.
“He hasn’t been brought to trial?”
“Ghost,” Elias says, cold and harsh. The same way he used to say Initiate when I fucked up. “There isn’t going to be a trial. You must understand that, right?”
I didn’t. Not until now.
I allowed myself to be blinded by my own foolish desires for Lilith, to have her followed and to clear her of wrongdoing. I had let it slip straight past me.
I don’t answer, just take my position on the mat, instead.
“Take it from me, Ghost, you’re better off giving it no thought at all.
I learned that a long time ago, when it comes to the Heads of the Veil.
There are some things we were never meant to understand.
” Elias cracks his neck from side to side, and joins me.
“That said, I’m not going easy on you tonight.
I heard through the grapevine that you need to clear your head.
No better way to do it, than getting it kicked in. ”
“I suppose the same could be said for you. It’s a Ghost’s duty to assess the future Hand of the Veil.”
“Hmm,” he pulls a face as if he’s feeling disrespected, but it isn’t directed at me. “It wasn’t too long ago that I was doing that job for you.”
“How times have changed.”
Without warning, I slip my hand over my katana’s grip and draw, slicing upward at Elias. He slides back, as if gliding on ice, and the fine steel tip narrowly misses his flesh in favor of his cotton shirt.
“Reflexes aren’t what they used to be,” I say, grinning behind the mask.
“Getting cocky?” He steps forward.
I swing again. This time, instead of retreating, Elias slaps at my blade. His palm connects with the flat steel above the edge, colliding so hard that the handle wobbles unsteadily in my grip. Capitalizing on my disorientation, Elias launches a single punch to my midsection.
It connects, forcing a step back.
“Keeping you on your toes,” I say, analyzing his approach.
Expecting another punch, I lean on my back foot, and ground myself in place. He comes forward, as anticipated, and when he does, I deliver my retaliation. I twist the blade to distract him, before I deliver a thunderous front kick that thuds against his sternum, knocking the wind from his lungs.
He clutches his chest and pulls back.
“Why you?” I ask, as he regroups.
“I’ve got suspicions.” We share another dance of strikes and defenses. “But I can’t give you a solid answer.”
Not good. I’m liking this less and less by the second.
“Your turn.” Elias storms at me. He throws a punch, but cuts it short midway to my jaw. Attempting to block the first blow, I don’t see his left hand move from his side. It slams against my chin, nearly knocking my mask clean off my face. “Tell me about the girl.”
Instead of seeing stars from the impact, images of her scatter across my mind. The defiance in her eyes, her body hidden yet responding to me, how she held onto me before I left…
I blame Elias. Mentioning her while my brain was rattling around my skull.
Spinning with the impact in a way that cushions the blow, I land facing him again, my blade up and poised to strike.
“What about her?”
“Why are you having Voodoo keep tabs on her?” He doesn’t move toward me. I don’t go to him. Each of us is merely observing our opponent.
“Safety.” A general blanket statement. Maybe hers, maybe the Veil’s, it’s easy to hide behind.
“But she’s not part of the Veil,” he says. That’s an easy deflection when we’re duty bound to a single cause.
“She will be. Indirectly,” I say. “Our protection, her protection, they become one and the same when she’s getting closer to the truth.”
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“She’s not getting closer to the truth,” he says. “The Head won’t let her.”
But she is getting closer to me. Slowly and steadily, chipping away at my walls.
“She lives in our home. Our Great Hall sits beneath her bedroom window. She won’t be blind to it for long.”
He steps forward. With his movement, I bring my blade down fast and hard, aimed at his shoulder. Elias ducks under the swipe, preparing a strong right hook for my midsection.
He caught me off guard once. It won’t happen again.
Using the momentum from my swing, I twist the handle between my hands and slice upward this time.
Knowing it will connect if I don’t adjust course, I flick my wrists back, pulling the flat edge of the katana against my forearm, while allowing the blunt end of the handle to strike the bridge of his nose.
The impact floors him.
“We have enemies.” I stand over his body, sheathing my blade. “Lilith doesn’t deserve to become a target.”
Elias hooks his thumb against his nose, and presses it back into place with little more than a wince. “Are you sure your old man wasn’t right?”
“About what?” I ask.
“About you feeling something…” He lets the words linger precariously between us, sucking in short breaths to steady himself. “Emotion is more dangerous to a Ghost than any threat that could come her way.”
“It’s not about me.” But try as I might to fight it, I can’t. I felt it forming a long time ago. An un-scratchable itch in the back of my mind, neutering all the good sense I’ve got.
“It’s not about the Veil, either,” he says.
“Everything I do is in service of the Veil.” It takes a lot to keep myself from screaming it. Questioning my decisions is one thing, but doubting my loyalties will not be tolerated.
“Spoken like a man who’s fully in control of his emotions,” Elias scoffs, lifting himself off the ground. “Don’t worry, Ghost, this stays between us. But don’t let that hunger cloud your judgment.”
I say nothing. For there is nothing to say.
Elias sees something I couldn’t see myself, until now. That the actions I undertake concerning Lilith are self-serving. To what end? I don’t know.
But I’ll toil on and keep doing it, anyway.
I can’t stop myself, even if I wanted to.