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SPEEDING eighteen wheelers ripped by the set gas pumps that sat disturbingly close to the road. Only a narrow sidewalk and a cement parking bumper protected the user from being road kill. If the need arose for a person to use the facilities, get gas, or snacks, most would avoid the hazardous dinosaurs of creepy gas station.
But Caleb wasn’t like most people. The little store was the only place for miles that sold some foods and it offered him a measure of peace and distraction. Plus, it allowed him privacy. His reason for being here now: Tristan.
Caleb thought he and the kid understood each other now, but last night Tristan attempted to escape again. It was the kid’s first attempt in weeks but it didn’t surprise Caleb. He knew Tristan would keep trying.
He expected it.
What he didn’t expect was how the new injections were affecting Tristan. He was stronger than he ever was. He moved faster, and processed his surroundings quicker. It was amazing to witness Tristan’s transformation, but Caleb also knew that it was too soon to completely place his trust in the new serum.
Right now, the serum held Death’s Door at bay for four weeks. But just like it happened with the old serum, Tristan’s mutated DNA could adapt and the length of time required between injections could lessen, or the serum could become ineffective at any time.
If Tristan succeeded in his escape he might have been killed by something as simple as a bee sting if he became suddenly weak. Clearly, Tristan didn’t care; even though he’d been warned, he still made the attempt.
Whoever wants the kid dead will succeed if Tristan doesn’t take his life and training seriously.
Caleb knew firsthand how painful it can be to not have the ones you love with you, but Tristan needed to consider the bigger picture.
He leaned against an out-of-service gas pump and dialed. “Richard,” Caleb said into the receiver, “it’s me.”
“I want one of my men to accompany you on this one,” Richard said.
“No,” Caleb said, “but I appreciate your concern.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Richard told him.
Caleb laughed to himself. There were times that Richard asked for Caleb’s help on sensitive military missions, missions where there was little hope of any of his men returning alive. Caleb got the job done and saved the lives of Richard’s men on several occasions, thus catapulting Richard’s special branch into legend and heightening his career in the military.
“Uncle, you’re personally vested in this one. I have to say it worries me some,” Richard said.
Caleb hated when his nephew called him uncle. Especially because Caleb hadn’t physically aged past the age of twenty-six and Richard, a distant nephew, was now dyeing the gray out of his head and beard.
“This Zuri, he’s like you?” Richard asked after a moment of silence.
Richard knew little to nothing of the Coesen, but Caleb did divulge his own secrets and abilities. What little Richard did know was due to an incident in Budapest that involved a man with special abilities. That man killed members of a prominent family but was holding the children hostage. Richard called on Caleb, who completed the mission before the Coesen Guard was sent in to suppress the situation.
“The less you know,” Caleb said quietly.
“Right,” Richard agreed, “but my soldier is good. He can be of use if you need him. It will make me feel better. He’s the one who traced the bullet for you. His orders are to hold back unless needed.”
Caleb understood his nephew’s concern. His power did get away from him, once. “I know you worry I will lose control. Say I do, how is your soldier going to stop me?”
“His orders aren’t to stop you,” Richard said then paused, “they are to clean up if there’s an incident.”
“You mean he’s to cover up my mess,” Caleb said.
Richard didn’t respond but that was exactly what he meant. Caleb was family. They knew each other for over twenty years. Up until now, Richard wasn’t able to help him, but now he had the opportunity.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Caleb sighed. Neither spoke for a few seconds.
“New Orleans, huh?” Richard broke the silence. “How long since you were there?”
Caleb closed his eyes. Marda and a smiling young boy with warm sand-toned skin and blue eyes invaded his thoughts.
“A long time,” Caleb said before hanging up the receiver.
Caleb dialed another number. When the person on the other end picked up, Caleb spoke. “This is Mark calling on behalf of the preservation of historical-.”
The person on the other end hung up, understanding the message loud and clear.
***
TRISTAN heard her approach way before she stepped into the clearing, walked to the front door, and opened it. He knew her scent but his mind could be playing tricks on him again so he didn’t get up. The same faint fragrance, honeysuckle and sunshine, filled the cabin a few weeks ago but she wasn’t there.
She couldn’t be.
Footsteps suggested a small human female entered the cabin but he just lay in his bed gazing up at the wood beams that made up the ceiling. His mind was going to break at some point.
Why not now?
Even if there was someone in the cabin, there was no reason to get up anyway. He was confined to his room, again. Having tried to escape again and ultimately failing, Tristan’s prison had shrunk again as Caleb restricted his movement to his room once more.
It’s been two since his recent attempt and Caleb still won’t speak a word to him. No more story, no training, not even a call to dinner. Caleb didn’t even give him the “I’m doing this for you, can’t you see that” speech parents gave their kids.
Caleb wasn’t his father but the dick sure as hell treated him like a child and it was pretty clear that big daddy was displeased.
The footsteps stopped so Tristan sat up. Was his mind finally splintering? Because each day away from Cianne, Nadia, and Aidan felt like it.
Tristan listened, hearing nothing. Get up.
He cursed as he got to his feet and pulled his bedroom door open. There, by the sofa, was Zeta with an uncomfortable look on her face. Tristan’s eyes grew big with excitement, and the corners of his mouth turned up to reveal a long-forgotten smile.
“Zeta!” Tristan moved forward with his arms open but he hesitated just before his foot crossed his bedroom’s threshold because of the tingling that began under the ankle device. He backed up, remembering his restriction.
As he looked at Zeta, who didn’t move, it dawned on him. There was no excitement or relief on her face. She wasn’t here to take him home. She knew of his detainment.
The smile on Tristan’s face fell but he continued to hold his arms out as he tried to think. He couldn’t show his anger, that wouldn’t help and it wouldn’t get him home.
Tristan quickly pointed to his ankle. “Sort of can’t leave my room. Been punished,” he said with a smile, but added a shrug.
Zeta looked nervous as she glanced at the device, though she seemed to relax. She raised her head then smiled at him. She moved at a Protector’s speed into his open arms. “How are you feeling?” she asked when they separated.
Tristan bit down his frustration, accusations, and anger, and responded. “Tired from all the training and healthy food. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t get something greasy to eat. But overall, I’m alive, right?” He backed up to look her over. “Wow, you look great!”
Zeta shyly turned her head as she scratched the nape of her neck and blushed.
She’s just a girl, Tristan said to himself. Like any other girl.
Fireworks went off in Tristan’s head. Zeta was just a girl. Who might be capable of freeing him of the anklet. If she could, was he prepared to do what it took to get her to free him?
He moved off to the side to allow her entry. “Come on in,” he said.
Zeta peeked inside the room and Tristan noticed her attention fell on the full-size bed for more than a few seconds.
“Uh,” Zeta stuttered, “there’s no place to sit in there.” Her voice sounded strained. Then she took in a deep breath. “Turn around,” she told him.
He did what she said, knowing then that she was capable of extending his reach. But can she remove it?
Tristan lifted his leg so that Zeta wouldn’t have to get to her knees to get to his ankle cuff. He didn’t look back at what she was doing because there was no use. He watched Caleb adjust the cuff several times and he still wasn’t able to extend the range or remove it. As a matter of fact, every time he touched it for more than a second he was shocked, literally.
He figured it recognized prints or DNA. Whatever the case, he knew now that Zeta could program it.
Done with the device, Zeta stood and Tristan lowered his leg. “There,” she said, “now you can go as far as the front door again.”
Tristan took a careful step over his bedroom’s threshold before accepting that he wouldn’t get fried again. He followed Zeta into the living area.
The two talked for hours. Tristan did all he could not to ask any questions about Cianne. The children were who he focused on. Zeta filled him in on all their milestones and achievements. He found out that they’d moved to Vivian’s mansion but Zeta really didn’t go into detail about why, and Tristan decided not to push it. By dinner time they had spoken about everything other than why she was there; how she was a part of it; and Cianne’s life without him.
“I’m starving,” she said, stood then stretched. “What have you got in the form of food?”
Tristan forced himself to laugh. “Nothing satisfying,” he said blankly. “I’ve got an idea. Say you go out and get us something edible.”
“I don’t think so, Tristan,” Zeta said right away.
“What is it going to hurt if you go out and bring it back? You know I can’t leave.” He motioned to the anklet. “All I want is a burger and a beer. Honestly,” he said with a smile, “I can’t run off while you’re gone.”
Zeta looked at him, unconvinced.
“You can put me back in the room if you like. I just want some real food. I don’t even need a beer. I want to celebrate seeing you.”
Tristan smiled.
Zeta looked as if she was going to agree but she shook her head. “We’re going to have to find something here.”
He cursed silently as she went to the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. When she returned to the sofa she had chips, dip, and wine. They ate, drank, laughed, and talked well into the night.
Finally, Zeta brought up his wife. “You haven’t asked me about Cianne,” Zeta said as she lifted the glass to her lips and drank.
Tristan’s smile faded as he looked at Zeta. He sighed then spoke. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about Cianne and me.” He took a sip of his wine and swallowed. “I wonder if our lives would be simpler if I decided to stay away.”
Zeta peered into his eyes as he spoke. He held her gaze long enough for her to look away. Clearly, she was uncomfortable about him looking at her. She tried to stand but fell back, giving Tristan the opportunity to assist her. He quickly steadied Zeta, holding her closer than he needed to.
How much wine did they drink?
“You’ve had a bit more than you can handle,” he told her. She looked up and Tristan stared into her fog-induced gaze. He held her petite wobbly frame up, then with no effort he lifted her and carried her to Caleb’s bedroom. Tristan placed Zeta on the bed, covered her up with a sheet and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight Zeta.”
As he walked to his room, Tristan thought about what he was planning to do. For the first time in a long time, he hated himself.
***
CALEB took his time walking through the mass of celebrating strangers. The streets were filled with people celebrating one of the many festivals New Orleans hosted. It seemed they always had something to celebrate here.
The scents and people seemed to change over time but the ambiance seemed to remain since he was here last. Caleb cleared his mind of all the memories he had of this place, but they seemed on the verge of a comeback. A whiff of her scent, the sound of his laughter, they slammed into Caleb but he steeled his mind and buried his pain deeper.
To anyone who may have noticed him, it looked as if he was taking a relaxing midnight stroll. His shoulders were hunched over; his hands were in his pockets, and his gaze floated from people to objects with little interest. It wasn’t until he came to the storefront he was looking for that he became alert.
Azazel’s Gift shop was printed on the sign that hung above the door. The building was located on the corner, in a row of quaint side street shops beside an empty lot. Caleb could have passed the store entrance, went to the café across the street, and watched it for a few but he didn’t want to spend any more time in the city than he had to. Plus, he wasn’t the wait and see type.
The bell above the door rang as he opened the door and entered the store. He took no notice of the occult trinkets that lined the shelves and tables throughout the establishment. None of that interested him. All he wanted was to find the man named Zuri.
It looked as if the store was empty but Caleb slowly walked over to the door behind the counter anyway. He opened the door which led to stairs to a second story room. The room was trashed. It looked as if someone had left in a hurry. Furniture was turned over and items broken.
Caleb followed the sound of a phone’s busy signal, finding the phone under a few pieces of paper. He pressed redial. The line rang a few times then transferred to a fax machine. He hung up.
Upset that he was too late, Caleb left the shop and headed to the other address Richard sent him. It was in an old industrial park outside of town. He drove past the unmanned security post and into the complex that housed five large windowed warehouses. Caleb drove to the one addressed 4215-C. He noted there were cars parked in front of the building, so he might get the answers he needed.
He was also aware of the sniper perched on the roof of the adjacent building.
Caleb sensed no aggression from the sniper so he sent the sniper a mental question and received an answer instantly; it was a name—Richard Scott.
Richard had no idea that the soldier on his Special Forces team was a Coesen.
Caleb could have dug deeper into the sniper’s young mind or, with a thought, be on the rooftop right beside him but Zuri was his target tonight. Not some young Coesen who most likely was ordered to seek out “Big Bad Caleb’s” relatives to smoke him out. He’d deal with the kid when the kid made a move on him.
Caleb saw no reason to prolong the situation so he walked in through the side door of the warehouse, deciding on a straightforward approach. The two men that were watching the door from inside looked at him, both frowning in amazement. With a wave of Caleb’s hand, the men fell to the ground before either of them could react.
In the center of the virtually empty warehouse was a large rug with a sizable desk, several chairs, file cabinets, and a coat rack. It was a little office sitting in a room of vast emptiness. Several other men who didn’t notice Caleb yet were gathered in and around the large rug. It could have been because they were occupied with watching the beating of the man who was tied to the chair in the center.
Caleb continued to walk quietly to the edge of the rug. “Excuse me,” he interrupted, “I have an appointment with Zuri. If you could let him know I’m here.”
All the men turned to look at him, all except an older man who sat behind the wooden desk and was busy mixing something in his hands. Caleb instantly knew this was the man he was looking for, Zuri.
The men shifted, and when they did Caleb saw a familiar face. Well it had been familiar before all the bruises and blood distorted his features.
“I see you had an appointment too,” Caleb chuckled as he regarded the prisoner.
It seemed to take a lot of effort but Perkins raised his head. “Nope,” Perkins breathed. His head hung down but his eyes were fixed on Caleb. “But they fitted me in.”
The man closest to Perkins punched him hard across the jaw. Perkins grinned, cursed, then spit out a mouthful of blood.
With another wave of Caleb’s hand, the two men who moved toward him flew back as if they were kicked in the abdomen. Their weightless bodies parted on either side of the desk where Zuri sat, and hit the wall far behind him.
Zuri didn’t look up. He continued to work as his other men advanced on Caleb.
With his target in sight and making no moves to leave, Caleb decided to have a little workout, a release of frustration... He gave each man a good beating before he ended their lives. Zuri didn’t even flinch as Caleb killed off his men one by one. It wasn’t until Caleb broke the neck of the man who stood beside Perkins that Zuri sighed then leaned back in his chair.
“I was hoping we’d meet one day, under different circumstances of course,” Zuri said as he stared at Caleb. “I’ve heard so much about you Mr. Scott.”
Caleb heard Zuri but didn’t acknowledge him. His attention was locked on Perkins who was slumped over in the chair. He heard a faint heartbeat and the intake and exhaling of air. Perkins lifted his head slightly, as if signaling he was still alive, but let it fall back down.
“There can be only two reasons why you’re here,” Zuri continued. “The first would be you admire my work and maybe you wanted to meet me or...you want information.”
Caleb looked into the old man’s dark eyes. Could anyone be more arrogant?
Well...I can be.
And what was with the Witchdoctor get up?
“Never heard of you until a few days ago.” Caleb walked at a lazy pace toward the desk.
“If you had, you wouldn’t have come here.” Zuri smiled.
Yup...a real arrogant piece of work.
“Why is that?” Caleb asked as he grabbed for the old man. He held Zuri’s necklace in his hands but the man’s body was gone. On the floor, were the old man’s undergarments, a purple dress and other jewelry. Caleb dropped the necklace. He looked around the room but didn’t see the old man anywhere.
Okay, the disappearing act wasn’t unexpected, but the fact that Caleb couldn’t even sense the old bastard was... Caleb frowned. What is the word? Oh yeah, perplexing.
As Caleb backed away from the desk, Zuri appeared in front of him. He was stark naked and holding a syringe. Caleb sighed, his tolerance waning. He made no attempt to reach for Zuri when he appeared but the old man disappeared again.
At that moment, Caleb was thinking of how disappointed the old guy was going to be when he realized that shit had no effect on him. But a familiar sound from a good distance away reached him, the sound of breaking glass followed, then there was the sound of impact. Caleb cursed as he whirled around in time to see Zuri fall to the floor. The bullet seemed to have hit him in the shoulder.
Still, he didn’t sense the old man disappear or reappear. Was there something messing with his instinct in this place? He looked up at the only broken window and used his exceptional sight. Richard’s soldier was useful after all.
Seconds later Caleb followed the trajectory of another bullet coming from the same direction. It hit the front leg of the chair Perkins sat in, causing Perkins to fall forward, narrowly escaping a bullet from the enemy that was meant for his head. One of the men who was guarding the door had come too and shot at Perkins.
As Perkins fell to the floor, the man who shot at him hit the floor at the same time, a perfect shot between the eyes.
The Coesen was useful.
Caleb bent over to get Zuri, who seemed unable to use his disappearing act with a bullet in his shoulder, but Zuri had other plans. He took the syringe he still held in his hand and jammed it into his own neck. Caleb tried to stop him but as soon as the needle penetrated Zuri’s dark skin, the liquid contents released into his body.
Zuri shook violently for several seconds before his body went still.
Caleb cursed as he stood and kicked Zuri’s body several times. The last kick sent the body flying across the room and into the far wall.
He heard movement. Caleb looked over his shoulder to a man who pointed a gun at him.
The other guy who guarded the door.
Caleb, still fuming that Zuri had killed himself, didn’t move. He just watched the nervous man with the gun pointed at him.
Richard was right, he was too emotionally attached. He needed to calm down or he would kill this guy and this damn trip to this godforsaken place would be for nothing.
Caleb decided it was better that he didn’t touch the guy so he looked up at the windows, knowing the sniper was watching. “The knees,” he said.
The man pointing the gun at Caleb screamed. He buckled when his left knee shattered but before he could fall to the floor another bullet came through the window and shattered his other knee.
The henchman screamed in agony as he rolled on the floor.
Another shot hit the knot of the rope that secured Perkins to the chair. Perkins slowly wiggled free.
It only took a few minutes of torture for Caleb to accept that the henchman knew nothing of the assassination of Vivian Harper or the attempted murder of Tristan. Zuri took his secrets to his grave, leaving both Perkins and Caleb empty handed.
“Thank your friend for me,” Perkins looked up at the roof top. He held on to Caleb as they walked to the car.
Caleb looked up. A figure dressed from head to toe in all gray, resembling the color of the buildings, stood. Caleb opened the car door and helped Perkins inside. When he looked back up, the sniper was gone.
Azazel’s Gift Shop is no more, the Soldier made his thoughts known to Caleb.
As Caleb drove away, building 4215-C exploded in flames. He had to admit, soldier boy was good at cleaning up.
***
TRISTAN woke to find Zeta in the kitchen pouring coffee. He stopped inside his door briefly and looked down at his anklet cuff. A wave of nausea came over him as he anticipated the tingle that preceded the shock, but nothing happened. Then he remembered, Zeta extended his leash.
He bit back his anxiety and focused on his plan. “How’s your head?”
“I’m good,” Zeta said. She smiled, exposing perfect white teeth. “No side effects really.”
She sipped the hot liquid in her cup but Tristan felt her eyes follow him as he sat on the sofa. He smiled at her when he turned her way. Zeta quickly turned around.
This might go more smoothly than I thought, Tristan said to himself when she joined him on the sofa.
“So, what is he paying you to babysit?” Tristan asked.
Zeta didn’t respond. Her attention was focused on the bruise marks on his arm. He pulled down his bunched-up sleeve.
“Does it hurt?” she asked as she moved closer. She pulled up his sleeve and touched the bruises. “The poison, I mean,” she said.
Tristan waited until she looked up at him. He thought he would milk this, but when their eyes met he could see the hurt in Zeta’s eyes, the compassion. He did a mental shake of his head and thought of Cianne and his children. He would do what he had to do to get home.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said softly, leaning forward slowly, stopping only inches before their lips touched.
Zeta moved the rest of the way, touching her lips to his. Tristan closed his eyes and pulled her close. He tried to imagine Cianne but his mind wouldn’t give him ease with this task, so he reverted to his wild days and focused on making Zeta believe. When he slipped his tongue in her mouth, she moaned and went limp in his arms. He felt her hand moving over his chest, pulling him closer as if they could melt together. Then her body tensed. Next thing he knew she was breaking their contact and jumping to her feet.
Tristan grabbed her arm. “We can leave this place Zeta. Be together, just the two of us if you want. We can go anywhere in the world,” he said as he kept a grip on her wrist. “But we need to leave before Caleb returns.”
Zeta seemed confused.
“Please Zeta,” he begged as he looked to his leg.
“If I want?” Zeta asked.
“What?” Tristan frowned.
“If I want,” she repeated louder. “All I have to do is remove that little device around your ankle, right?” Zeta yanked her arm free.
He could see the anger well up in her as her eyes watered over. Before he could say anything, she was in Caleb’s room. He heard her lock the door.
“Shit!” Tristan yelled. He kicked the coffee table across the room causing it to hit the wall and fall into several pieces.
Tristan knocked on the bedroom door every hour to no avail. Zeta didn’t answer, and worse, she didn’t reply when he spoke. Around midnight he knocked on the door again. Zeta didn’t answer but he knew she wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said before he went back to his room.
