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AFTER ZAN SHUT the heavy door to her apartment, she leaned against it, hoping she wouldn’t feel the claustrophobic panic she’d felt that morning when the pale green walls had closed in on her.
God, how I want a drink.
She thought about hitting a meeting, but the notion lost out to her desire to hide. She put on soothing music, shimmering gentle soundscapes, then collapsed onto her plump gray couch. She didn’t feel soothed.
I feel like shoving a knitting needle in my ear. I’m sick of my own fucking brain.
True to her word, Mel had indulged Zan in a nice long lunch. After they finished their noodles, they walked over to the plaza in front of City Hall and watched the fountain dance in the sun and people sip coffee in front of the café. Zan felt like she was trapped somewhere and scenes of normal life were displayed just out of reach to torment her.
Back at her computer, her brain wouldn’t cooperate. She had to read the same paragraph five times before she could comprehend it. She wondered if she was still in danger, if those things would come after her again. If they would invade the Earth like in some blockbuster movie. She hoped Rainer would have told her something like that, but she was heavy with dread.
At least in the office, I feel safe.
She paced along the edge of the couch, her hand on Rainer’s card in her pocket. She took it out, sat down and opened it.
You know I love you. I’ve lied to you and betrayed your trust and I am insane with regret. I was a coward, but please let me explain the source of my fear. Let me earn your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have lied to you, but you know my heart. What matters between us, you feel its truth. I know you do.
Zan crushed the card in her hand so forcefully her fingernails dug into the fleshy part of her palm as tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn’t know whether to hold still or slam herself into a wall.
Feel its truth? You stole truth from me. How could you lie to me like that? Your kisses were lies, your touch. You took my heart. You say you love me, yet you wouldn’t even tell me what you are. You would have fucked me for a while then gone off to something I don’t understand. You used me.
Her muscles twitched. She marched into her bedroom and rooted around in the closet until she found her speed bag. She hooked it to the chin-up bar she had installed between the kitchen and the living room, but before she started punching the memory of Rainer’s first visit to her apartment seized her. She’d held onto that chin-up bar while Rainer plunged so deep inside her he discovered the woman she didn’t know she was. A woman who could love with a passion so fiery it seemed to have a physical presence in her life.
It was a lie, a dream, a drug.
Zan collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Then her bell rang. She dragged herself upright and went to the peephole.
Flowers. More fucking flowers.
Not even bothering to wipe her wet face, Zan opened the door and glared at the delivery person, a boy barely out of his teens. He was startled by her demeanor.
“Um, flowers for, um, Zan O’Gara?” he said, lifting two bouquets of ivory blush roses a little higher.
“I don’t want them.”
“But ma’am, I have a ton of these. There’s more down in the truck.”
“Take them back.”
“I can’t, no one ever— ”
“I don’t care. You can’t make me take them. They’re paid for, aren’t they? What’s it to you?”
The kid gaped at her.
“Look at it this way. Saves you making a bunch of trips up four flights of stairs. Go put them in the park for all I care.” She slammed the door.
Back in the office, Zan was only marginally more productive than she’d been the day before. She was thankful they had nothing to do in the field, but she knew it wouldn’t last.
I need to get my act together before I put Mel in danger.
She plugged away at the year-end report. Mel would come over every once in a while and place a hand on her shoulder. She knew Zan was doing her best. After an hour or two, Zan felt a little better, but then the call came. Harry again. More flowers.
Oh god. Leave me alone.
This time Harry refused to sign for the flowers. He called Zan down to talk to the delivery man. When she got to the lobby, the man was standing there with an annoyed look on his face, holding a vase filled with a dozen ivory blush roses. Another bunch stood at his feet. Zan told him to take them back to the florist.
“I can’t do that ma’am,” he said. “I work for a wholesaler, not a retail florist. I have a route to follow and it does not include going back to the warehouse.”
“Then just keep them until you’re finished,” Zan said. “I don’t see what the problem is. Your employer will have the money and the flowers. You can resell them.”
“Ma’am, we loaded these flowers in reverse order of delivery. All my other deliveries are behind your flowers. I can’t even get to them easily. There are fifteen dozen of these in my truck.”
Jesus, Rainer. You never do anything small, do you? Your flowers are like your lies.
“You can’t force flowers on me,” Zan said. “I didn’t order them. This is a federal building and it’s not appropriate for flowers to be delivered here. You might want to inform whoever is taking the orders.”
“Uh, okay, ma’am. I’m sorry, it’s just that this has never happened before. People are usually happy to get flowers unless they’re for a funeral.”
Slightly ashamed that she had gone all official on the man, Zan got her wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Here, for your trouble,” she said, thrusting the bill at him. “If your bosses give you a hard time, have them call me. I’ll tell them we can’t have fifteen dozen roses delivered here for security reasons.”
The man pocketed the twenty, picked up the other dozen roses, thanked her and walked out. Zan watched him leave. She felt like he was walking off with a pound of her flesh. She knew this was crazy. After the delivery man exited she hung her head, trying not to cry. When she looked up, Harry was staring at her. He looked hastily away.
“Sorry for all this, Harry. Thanks again for helping me yesterday.”
“It’s all right, Agent O’Gara. I’m happy to help. I hope everything is okay.”
Zan smiled weakly and went back upstairs. When she got back to the office she told Mel she had to go see Rainer that night.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s a little soon, isn’t it?”
“I know him, Mel. He won’t stop,” Zan said. “He will send flowers like that every single day until I talk to him. Who knows what that bastard is liable to do? He has enough money to buy anything.”
“Yeah, I can see him coming up with all kinds of crazy shit. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. I need to do this alone. I’ll tell him to stop it. I’ll get the stuff I left there.”
“Okay, Zan,” Mel said. “But whatever you do, don’t look in his eyes, especially if he smiles at you. He’s like fucking Svengali.”
Zan made herself laugh. Mel was trying to lighten things up, but she had no idea how close she was to right.
My bones already feel like jelly at the thought of seeing him. God help me.
Slumped in an armchair, Barakiel observed Pellus work at the computer, his eyes focused in the peculiar manner of a traveler Covalent as he followed and mimicked the electrical impulses of digital information. The mind of a traveler adept went far beyond the most powerful of human supercomputers. Pellus could visualize billions of combinations at once. Considering he assessed probabilities in the behavior of subatomic particles when he traveled through the rifts, even the most sophisticated computer encryption was a child’s game to him.
Navigating around or through firewalls was even easier. From the shadows of previous traffic, Pellus was able to ascertain the rules governing a firewall and structure his packet of digital information so that the receiving system would allow it to pass. Nothing within the packet would trigger any of the rules comprising the firewall.
Pellus had already scrubbed any record of Zan’s 911 call from the police database and the mobile carrier’s servers. Now, he turned his brain to the pursuit of the followers. It was only a matter of time, Barakiel knew.
They cannot hide from us.
The house near Rittenhouse Square used by the false monks and their followers at the summer solstice had been rented by a company. Pellus had broken into the computer system of its business agent to find the name of a human associated with the company and hopefully an address. If this did not work, Pellus would use the license plate of the truck that the followers had used to transport the demons, most likely also a rental. He could identify it through the Department of Transportation and find the person who rented it through the rental company. If they did not succeed in this clandestine way, Barakiel was fully prepared to threaten someone with death for information. He cared about nothing but keeping Zan safe.
If all else fails, I will meet the Stream. When I am gone, Lucifer will leave Zan be.
Barakiel rose and stomped about until Pellus asked him to stop. He fell back into his chair and picked up a book Zan had been reading. He could smell her on its surface. He imagined her touching his face.
Will she ever touch me again? How foolish I was last night to hope she would come home. Yet I hope for the same tonight.
An hour later, Barakiel was still trying to quash his foolish expectations. Pellus disrupted his misery by announcing that he had an address in Kensington for the man who had rented the truck. The business agent’s records had indicated only another company, so Pellus judged the truck the easier route. They left to go to the address. Pellus concealed themselves as they emerged from the rift. They picked their way through sickly-looking loiterers and the shoppers who wandered in and out of a hundred low-rent businesses tucked under the elevated subway tracks. In a few minutes, they were inside the grungy apartment. No one was there and they found no evidence of criminal activity.
“You see, the police will not be able to help us,” Barakiel said.
Violence is always the answer.
“Do not be so hasty.” Pellus stood with his hands on his hips in the middle of the room they had just searched, turning his head to scan the dirty walls. “I am beginning to suspect this man is not a follower. I think they may have just had him rent the truck.”
“What makes you say that?”
Pellus walked over to a chipped coffee table and lifted a skin mag by its corner, his lip curling in distaste. “His apartment reveals an unsophisticated person. The followers cover their tracks with shell companies.”
“I see your point. When he comes home I will force him to tell me who hired him.”
“Barakiel, I understand your instinct for violence, but if you do that and leave him alive he may warn the followers and make them harder to find. And I know you don’t want to hurt an innocent man. Let me observe him. Perhaps he will lead me to them.”
“There is no guarantee he will ever see them again. It will take too long with little chance of success.”
“We have time, remember?”
“Time or no time, how can I protect Zan while they are out there? I don’t know where they are. I don’t know where she is.” Barakiel squeezed his forearm hard enough to cause pain.
Please come back to me.
“Stop worrying so much,” Pellus said. “We have three earthly months until the winter solstice. At any rate, Zan is more than capable of taking care of herself.”
“I know she is, but I cannot help it. I want to protect her.”
With a nod and a grimace, Pellus left the apartment. Barakiel followed and they dodged their way to a rift. Barakiel expected to emerge in his compound, but they arrived on a white strand bathed in moonlight. The leaves of palm trees gently sawed against each other in a light breeze. The air held delicious promise, like ripe fruit. The place did not make Barakiel feel any better.
“Where are we, Pellus?”
“The South Pacific. We tried the mountains yesterday. Today, I thought this might soothe you. Is it not beautiful?”
“Yes, it is.”
This place makes me want to hold Zan in my arms.
“You should make some effort not to think about her,” Pellus said.
“How do you know what I am thinking?”
“Only one thing could put that look on your face.”
They watched the surf come in and recede.
“You should know that whatever happens with the followers, we will protect Zan come the solstice,” Pellus continued. “I told you that the other adepts were fascinated by the barrier I created in the Turning when I protected you from the blows of the Corrupted during battle. I used a variation of it to shield you the other night. I have three months to learn how to make this type of barrier stronger and able to cover a wider area here in the Earthly Realm. I assure you I can do it, especially with help from other adepts. When the demons exit the rift they will be locked in an invisible cage with you. They will not escape.”
Barakiel exhaled. He almost smiled. “No, they will not.”
Pellus shifted his weight back and forth and blinked his eyes.
“Out with it.”
“Do you think Zan will tell the authorities what she has witnessed, the things you have told her?” he asked. Barakiel fixed him with a glare so intense it made Pellus wince.
“Balance help me, Pellus, if you mention such a thing to me again I will pick a fight with the National Guard in the middle of Broad Street.”