Society Rules (58 page)

“Don’t deny your feelings, Brother. There is no shame in them, for it is not weakness. However, know this; it is your response to those feelings that makes you a true man. Self-control and confidence are what keep you worthy.

“Make no mistake, she is yours, and she wants only you in the way that a woman will want a man. She continues to have love for the father of her children as she should, do you agree?” Jackson’s body relaxed at the Elder’s words, and he nodded gravely.

“I agree, my Elder.”

“I will add here one more thought for you to ponder. You work so hard to keep your warrior tendencies from your
Equal
, pointless as you know it to be . . . but
why
? Can you not fathom the idea that as her
Equal
, you are her perfect match?” He narrowed his eyes briefly at Jackson.

“You. Not the version of yourself you try to project to her . . . what you
think
she would like to see. This woman of yours finds a little danger in her men, er, how shall I put this . . .
exciting
!”

Jackson smiled and had to look away.

The Elder was actually blushing! “Just something for you to think about, my Brother.”

Shaking his head now, the Elder pulled himself back, and sighed. “I brought myself here today simply to observe. I had no intention of stepping in, or altering whatever course events took, but I knew I had to witness this unfold.”

“You helped the officer get here, didn’t you?” Jackson spoke with barely suppressed humor. “That’s why you were with him!”

The old man’s eyes sparkled. “I was simply out for a walk, and found a man stuck in a ditch! Would you have me leave him there?”

He then turned his shimmering blue eyes back toward Nick, who, at this point had decided that he was either stuck in the middle of a very strange dream, or he had slipped through a very large crack in reality.

After he’d shot Cassandra, and all of the stuff that he was going to try really hard to forget he ever saw was over, Nick had come forward and covered Shawn’s body with his muddy jacket and sat down close by. Max lay, panting heavily at his side.

He didn’t know why, but he felt that Shawn should not be alone, even if he knew that the man inside the shell was long gone. Besides, he wanted to stay back and try to observe the rest of the happenings taking place, and maybe, just maybe, he would figure out what was what on his own.

So far, all he had done was grow more confused.

So, okay. The old man? He was
not
a human being.

Nick had already registered this in his mind, crazy as it might sound to anyone else. He also knew that when the man had put his hand on his shoulder, assuring Nick that he would tell him all that he would be able to comprehend, Nick had winced, and braced himself for the pain.

The old man had grasped the shoulder that was the recipient of a lot of unwanted attention from the wrong end of Lockhart’s gun. Not only did the expected pain never materialize, but also, the wound was gone. No sign of any injury remained.

None. Zip.
Nada!

Yeah, yeah. It was impossible, he knew. But whatever.

It was a fact. Christ, even the hole in his uniform shirt was gone.

He might have thought he was going insane, except that Nick had the stubborn confidence born of his upbringing.

Nick Brocatto saw what he saw, end of story. If anyone thought he was crazy that was their damned problem.

He’d remained huddled in his own private vacuum while the happy family scene had taken place. When Will had appeared at the edge of the cemetery, Nick was relieved beyond measure; however, it seemed that the rest of the group had been a little more than relieved. They had been flabbergasted. As if somehow, he should not have shown up. Like, ever again.

They were, thank God, obviously
glad
to see him alive, or else he might have suspected a little foul play, shocked as they had appeared. In between the surreal feelings, Nick also felt a gut levitating sense of relief, now that the crazy blond was taking a dirt nap.

Nick had only drawn his weapon to kill once before in all his years of duty, and it had taken him a while to get over it.

But popping that one had felt all kinds of right. He was over it already. Probably nearly over it as he’d drawn his weapon to fire.

Sick bitch.

As for what had happened to her afterwards? Well,
that
he would never get over. Not if he lived to be a thousand.
That
was the kind of stuff that nightmares were built around. Maybe the kind of stuff Stephen King dreams about for inspiration.

Nick started shaking, as whatever autoimmune-anesthesia he was under began to wear off, and shock seeped in to take its place. He watched the old man greet Will, and then look back at him, gesturing for him to come toward the two of them.

Nick rose slowly, advancing on his friend and the stranger. The stranger who had just happened along, showing up at just the right time, and in just the right place.

Right
.

“Um, hey Will. You all right, guy?” Will shocked the officer by pulling him into a bear hug.

“Nick, man, I don’t know how this would have turned out without you. I owe you forever.” Nick looked at the rest of the faces surrounding them, and cleared his throat self-consciously.

Will released him and stepped back, his copper-brown eyes fixing on Nick’s obsidian ones. “I don’t know how I know this, but you saved my family. I can never repay you. Not even with a semi-tractor trailer load of ‘snobby’ beer!” His face froze when he looked down and saw what Nick held.

Nick followed Will’s eyes down the length of his own arm, and was startled to see that he still had a death grip on the weapon that he had used to talk business with Lockhart.

The weapon that was brought to him as if wished from a star.

“How . . .” Will’s voice was strangled. “How did you get that gun?” Nick was a little unnerved by Will’s tone.

“Um, well, this is gonna sound crazy” He looked around, thinking of the recent events and reconsidered. “Or maybe it won’t. A dog brought it to me. That dog over there.” He pointed at Max, who lifted and cocked his head at the sudden scrutiny of the gathering.

A terrible noise came from Will’s chest as his eyes drifted from Max, to the sight of Nick’s huge jacket nearly completely covering an inert form on the ground. He looked back at Indie, and she nodded, her eyes suddenly sparkling with unshed tears.

“He saved Cassidy, Will. He sacrificed himself; put himself between the gun of that horrible woman and our daughter.”

Will sounded as if he were choking. “Give me . . . I mean, can I have that weapon, please, Nick?” Nick immediately handed the gun to Will, realizing at once that there must be some significance to it that he didn’t understand. Just add this to the pile of other mysteries of this day.

The pile that was rapidly becoming quite deep.

“Officer . . . our walk?” The old man had spoken, and Nick, grateful for an out, as well as the chance for explanation, leaped forward as if he had been tasered, and set out on an easy stroll with the man beside him.

Will moved forward toward the lifeless form on the ground as Indie turned into Jax’s arms. Jackson gathered her in one embrace, and the children he pulled in with his other arm, gently steering them close. He turned the whole group back and led them toward Will’s truck, sensing the other man’s need for privacy.

Once more, Jackson caught the slithering sight of evil incarnate moving through the cemetery, a furious scowl in place on his reptilian face.

You
lose.
Yet
again,
oh
Fallen
One.
Today,
you
walk
away
with
nothing
more
than
what
you
already
possessed.
Go
back
to
your
stolen
body
and
bring
yourself
to
me,
whenever
you’re
ready
for
another
go
‘round,
my
perpetual
adversary!
He fired the thoughts toward the scaly-headed beast, who disappeared with a snap of his shiny teeth, and an angry snarl.

Hesitating, Will gingerly lowered himself to the ground beside the covered body. He could handle dead bodies. He had done so many times before, hadn’t he?

So why was he shivering so hard?

Why was he sitting there with his hand hovering above the jacket, afraid to touch it? He took a deep breath and dragged the jacket off Shawn’s body.

The pool of blood drying around him was evidence of the fatal gunshot wound that drew Will’s stare. Along with the gaping hole in Shawn’s chest. Will’s eyes hardened.

This was an exit wound. The man had been shot in the back.

Oh
that
bitch!
He hoped she died hard . . . suffering.

Pain shot behind Will’s eyes as this uncharacteristic feeling blew through him.

No. Her suffering would fix nothing, would it? He dragged the top half of Baker’s body into an upright position, and held on to him.

“You
can
trust
me,
right
now
 . . .
I’m
gonna
put
this
right,
okay
?” The words drifted back to him foggily. Baker’s voice . . . in the truck.

“You did it, alright, bro’. You put everything . . . right. We defeated the enemy.” Damn, was he going to start wailing again? What the hell was happening to him? He looked down at Shawn’s face once more, and a word melted through his consciousness.

Absolution
.

That word had probably never crossed his lips, but now it was in his head, as though whispered by a chorus of beautiful voices.

Absolution
.

Redemption
.

Shawn Baker had achieved it. Of this, Will was sure. He forced himself to his feet, lifting Baker easily into his arms, and carried him toward his truck. It was time to get out of this place.

Chapter 38

Out, out brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more; it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

William Shakespeare

From Macbeth act five, scene 5

As the giant room separated by double occupancy office cubicles began to fill up, tensions began to ease.

The echo of emptiness was shattered by the sound of heavy boots and high-heeled dress shoes marking their way through the building, each pair seeking the hidden comfort of their own little office cubby-holes. People were talking, and wired-up nervous laughter was heard in short spurts, bringing the place back to life.

The aroma of food wafted through the building.

Someone’s take out, Will thought, absently. Thai, from the damp-dog smell of fish sauce permeating the air.

Life goes on.

Someone dies, and then someone has lunch. It is the strange cycle of humankind, he supposed.

He had neither seen nor heard one single thing from Indie or his kids since the . . .
incident
, but he was oddly unable to freak out about this. It was as if his body instinctively knew that they were fine, and he would see them all in due time.

Will brought his mind back to today.

It had been one crowded funeral; the old Lutheran church on Main Street was overflowing with the entire staff of the Homeland Security branch, and a truly impressive number of weeping females. Quite the fleet of conquests for the very short time Baker had been in town. Shawn would have been pleased by the turnout.

Will moved through the office with his trademark stealth, fidgeting impatiently with the sling and shoulder stabilizing gear he sported as he took a seat at his desk. He grunted only slightly this time, the pain lessoning.

The tape around his ribs constricting his breaths was really starting to get on his nerves, though. Maybe he would take them off AMA tonight. His doctor said that he was healing with supernatural speed, which had made Will bark with laughter at his last check up. The magnificent black eye that he had been sporting for the last week was finally beginning to fade as well.

He could not stop his eyes from traveling over to the desk on the opposite wall, now empty and sterile. It had been stripped and packed up by Shawn’s mother who came alone, her tiny frame shrunk down even further from the weight of her grief.

Her only child, gone.

It had caught Will’s attention, for some unknown reason, that her last name was different from Shawn’s . . . Tilman, or something like that. She must have remarried. Where was Shawn’s father, he wondered. Didn’t matter, did it?

His eyes dropped to the wastepaper basket next to Shawn’s former desk.

There had to be fifty or more half-chewed packs of Tums, Pepcid and Zantac that Mrs. Tilman had tossed. The woman had politely declined all offers of help in clearing out Shawn’s apartment, stating tearfully that she needed some alone time with her son’s possessions.

Will had winced as he’d run through a list of potential possessions that he thought Shawn might have had around the house that would cause any mother a small case of the horrors.

Like the Costco-sized boxes of condoms he liked to stockpile.

Or the enormous collection of Kama-Sutra type books that he bragged about collecting, which was why Will had decided that a little breaking and entering had been in order the night before. He’d made his way easily through Shawn’s security system, and removed as many mother-unfriendly items as he could find, which were now charcoal in Will’s fireplace.

Will caught himself smiling as he thought of his partner and his minor league bad-boy ways. The kid enjoyed life to the fullest, there was no doubt about that. He was going to miss the wise-ass, that’s for sure.

The wise-ass that just happened to save his little girl.

Shawn’s debt to him was far more than repaid.

He thought about the fact that all actions and choices are so interconnected. A sort of chain reaction of events set in motion by one small act. He saved Shawn’s life. Had he not, then Shawn would not have existed to save Cassidy.

But then, there also would have been no Shawn Baker to call, and the event might never have happened in the first place. The circle he mentally traced made his temples pound.

Will covered his eyes with his right hand, as it was the one still on a mobile shoulder joint, and tried to find some sort of definitive answer.

Maybe . . . maybe it was possible that all of this
needed
to happen, so that Shawn could earn his way to a better outcome in the afterworld. He could only imagine how tarnished the guy’s potential halo had been prior to this little caper.

“Hey Will!” The cautious voice of Ben Blackstone interrupted his musings. “Oh, hey there Ben. What can I do for you?” Will answered, rubbing his eyes.

“Ah, no, I don’t need anything. I was just seeing how you’re holding up. I mean, it’s tough, I know . . . losing a partner. Or a friend.” Ben looked at Will quizzically.

Will leveled his gaze to hit Ben’s.

He was good people.
Quiet
and
studious,
kind
of
heart
and
deed.
Will choked on a laugh. Since when did he use phrases like that, even in thought? He was turning into such a sap.

“Yeah.” He spoke quickly now, to catch up to a proper span of time between question and answer. “It is hard, Blackstone. I’m still kind of trying to press it into my skull to make it stick, you know?” Ben draped his arms over the cubicle’s wall.

“I know. I still can’t believe it myself. Who knew Lockhart would turn out to be some crazy, homicidal maniac, huh? I mean, we all knew she was kind of a loose cannon, but hell, killing Baker in some kind of jealous rage?” He shook his head. “I never saw that coming.”

Will closed his eyes for a moment, reciting the “official” story in his head once more. He was a pro at this stuff.

There would be no contradictory statements coming from him.

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it myself. She must have overheard me and Baker making plans to head over to the bike show on Saturday, and decided that was her window of opportunity to get Shawn.”

“What exactly did happen, Taylor? I never did get the full story. There’s lots of rumors, but . . . .” Ben was leaning over the partition, looking a little hopeful. He didn’t like second hand information.

“I kind of wouldn’t mind hearing what really happened, unless of course . . .” Ben flushed, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, uh . . . I can understand if you don’t want to re-live it, Will.”

Now was the time.

Will knew that this was the opportunity to set in stone the official report filed by the first officer on the scene. Captain Nick Brocatto. Will’s mind backtracked to the aftermath of that horrible day.

*     *     *

Nick had returned from his walk with the man they were calling the “Elder”—alone—and with a slightly foggy look about him. Will had just laid Baker’s body carefully in the back of his truck, and stepped around to the road.

He watched, more than a little confused, as Nick had walked directly past him to his patrol car, and made an urgent call on his radio asking for back up.

There was just enough time for Will to note with a start that first, he was all alone, and secondly, Shawn’s Nissan was now just yards ahead of him, wrapped violently around the front grill of his truck.

It was exactly as it was before when he had plowed into the guy’s car miles down the road.

Except that it was here.

Then things moved quickly as a tornado of time, space and a lot of dust lifted him off his feet, and threw him around roughly, but strangely, without anything touching him. At least, he didn’t feel anything had touched him. At first.

When the dust cleared, Will found himself face down, with a mouthful of mud and feeling freakishly disoriented.

The pain was sure as shit a surprise, searing through his left shoulder violently as he attempted to push himself off the ground. He reached up automatically to seize the offending body part, and felt liquid warmth. Without looking, he knew he was bleeding.

A lot. Pulling his hand toward his face, he confirmed this interesting fact.

He could also feel a tight pressure under his left eye, and his ribs? Well, they felt as though his chest had caught on fire, and someone had kindly put out the blaze for him.

With a fucking
bat!

Will struggled to put at least a few of his extremities under him, managing to rise up almost on all fours.

Ow. The ribs. Oh, man!

The sound of gunshots startled him and Will felt himself hit the dirt face first once more.

What in the hell was happening? And what in the hell had happened to
him
, although at the moment, he was much more concerned about the answer to the first question.

Not
‘what
in
the
Hell,’”
Brother!
The gentle voice sifted through his head clearly; a shimmering laugh. However, before Will could react, or do anything more than work toward closing his mouth, someone flipped him over on his back, oh so gently.

“Will! Will, ‘bro, can you hear me? You’re gonna be fine, right? EMS is on its way!” Nick’s voice was carefully controlled to hide what Will could tell was a hard case of the panics, although what in the H—(he retracted the oath quickly)—
world
 . . . he was talking about was a total blank to Will.

“What . . . ? What’s happened?” Will’s voice sounded strange. Hoarse and torn.

“You’ve been shot, man. Been in a car accident and shot!” Nick’s voice was also raw, but oddly triumphant.

Car accident? Shot? Well, that could explain why he felt like someone had beaten him with a bag of quarters. Will shook his head hard. Holy crap, when had all this happened to him?

He had obviously missed out on one very big adventure involving himself, and someone’s pistol party. But how?

“S’okay, Will, just the left shoulder. But I got the bitch. She took off in the woods somehow, but I’m sure she won’t get far. We’ll pick her up. We’ll just follow the blood trail!”

It was beginning to become clear to Will that the events of the morning had just been violently rearranged, and for reasons that were obvious. What, was Nick going to go back to the station and fill out a report on what he had actually seen? No way was the Society going to allow that, he was sure. He didn’t know the extent of their powers, but, hey, sure . . . so they maybe could totally screw with the order of time and events.

Why not?

At this point, there was almost nothing that Will couldn’t believe in. The story. Well, the story had to be made . . .
possible
, right?

At least in the realm of the human world.

He almost laughed aloud, because it suddenly reminded him of how his department worked. Take care of the problem, clean up the mess, and fabricate a suitable reality. The irony of his Homeland Security unit and, uh . . . . Will choked for a moment. Anything, well . . .
Holy
, was absolutely incongruous, but there you had it.

He was suddenly quite at home, familiar with the tactic, and decided that it was his job to simply go along with whatever Nick told him. He knew Nick wasn’t lying or covering up anything. The man was incapable of a lie, no matter how pressing the excuse.

Nick’s brain had obviously been implanted with a scenario, and Will had found himself dropped into the final act, without a script. No problem. He could follow as well as he could lead.

Soft laughter rippled through his head once more, feeling like a cold wash of rain.

I
knew
you
were
worthy,
my
Brother!

Who WAS that?

Oh well. William Taylor decided that he would worry about the who’s and the why’s later. Right now, he had a job to do.