Feargus

  When we'd all finished talking in the Weird Room, Matilda returned to Leberecht through the underground, and Everleigh escorted me to the exit because I couldn’t open the hatch myself. She grabbed the sleeve of my jacket before I started up the stairs.

  “Thanks,” she said. “For the hugs. And I didn’t know if you’d come or not. Not that I’ve been in any immediate danger, but—” the thought of whatever she was about to say next made her lips pucker, like she’d just taken a bite of a lemon, “—I’m a bit in over my head.”

  “Me, too, Everleigh. Me, too.”

  I nodded, and she nodded.

  “I’ve been here for the past few days cleaning up and convincing Matilda you’re safe. On top of asking her to fix your brain.”

  “Mate, I really appreciate that.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “You’ll be so much less annoying now.”

  I smiled. She didn’t.

  But that’s all right. Everleigh Gloom’s eyes gave her away when she was pretending not to smile. Also, our chat was about to take a delightful turn.

  “So,” she said, “do you have any friends that are good looking, and fun, and nice like you, but aren’t you.”

  I laughed. “What? You want me to set you up?”

  “I guess. I’d like to fall in love and have sex, but you’re not really my type.”

  Hands down, mates: favourite conversation of the week, possibly ever.

  “What’s your type?” I asked.

  “I like them tall. And talented. And confident. And with dark hair.”

  “Tall, dark, fun, talented, confident, and nice—I’ve got the perfect friend in mind. He loves a good Strachan, that one, and I have it on good authority he’s—aye, he’s full of surprises. Let me put some feelers out.”

  “Okay, bye,” she said.

  “See you,” I answered.

  Back on the surface, the ground closed up behind me.

  When I got to the cabin, Zacharias wasn’t home, and there were no new reports left on the table. I took some time to freshen up, however much as I could in my crummy cabin, and then I hit the road for Oskari. I hadn’t had the chance to do my rounds lately.

  It was already well past dusk when I got to the village. I wasn’t sure how much I’d see, but my first order of business was to check in on the crew. I went to The House first. The drapes were closed, but through the thin fabric, there were two shadows sitting at the kitchen table. I scurried around to the window at the other side of the kitchen, at the dark end of the house. The drape was closed, and I pressed my ear against the glass.

  “—wonder why you’re not getting pregnant? Not eating? And even further down the line, aren’t people going to wonder why you’re not aging? There’s a ticking clock on whatever this is, Helena.”

  “Well, we can’t stay here, obviously.”

  “Okay, but what am I supposed to do?”

  “We’re bound now. Wherever I go, you go. So, what if you were like me?”

  “No.” Michael shook his head. “I don’t want that. Not ever.”

  “Why not? I love you, Michael, and it’ll be safer that way.”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said, “if you actually do love me. I mean, if you did, you wouldn’t want this for me, would you?”

  “I feel great.”

  Michael rubbed his cheek. As you might remember from The First One, Michael never shaved when on a job. It was a luck thing. But there he was, smooth as a Gander girl’s bottom. Helena’s influence, I reckoned, though I couldn’t be sure to what extent.

  Also, let’s talk about how she wanted to turn him—

  I heard the sound well before I felt the tap on my shoulder. Three clicks of the tongue. Strachan know better than to sneak up on another Strachan, unless they’re trying to kill them. Or unless they’re trying to be killed.

  Rhydian Sinclair beckoned me into the forest behind The House.

  “You were right,” he said. “Never leaves the bloody house, though.”

  “Best just lay low until everything kicks off tomorrow,” I said.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Rhydian answered.

  “You’re not going to help?” I asked.

  “Are you?”

  Mates, my patience. I took a deep breath and pulled my fuzzy hat further down over my ears. “If you’re not going to help Rhian, then do me a solid. Could you get a message to mum and dad? I need them to locate a defector that might be hiding out in Stracha. Name’s Matteus Rizik. Celestian, so, tall, black hair. Goes by Riz.”

  “What for?”

  “We need our own Nav.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Rhydian answered. “I’ve got to check on some horse-shit Anima research at the lair, and then I’ll be heading out Stracha-way to see Evelyn. I’ll see what I can do about your fellow.”

  Now, as you should know from The Second One, Riz was already charming his way around the lair, having been brought in some time after Strauss, Bach, and Rhydian left. My folks had come through in a big way. Only, none of us knew exactly how big yet.

  “Thanks, mate,” I said. “What kind of research are you lot doing, anyhow?”

  “We’ve got this one little shit in our cells, claims to be over a thousand years old. Been with us for what—ten, fifteen years? Speaks in riddles and hasn’t told us fuck all, no matter what gets done to him. We’re looking to change that.”

  “Where’d you pick up a thousand year old Anima?”

  “Kaisa and Andreas brought him in, but I’ve no fucking idea, lad. They never told anyone else where they found him, and I was off the island at the time. I didn’t see them again until—well, I guess I never did, did I? Because they’re dead. Whatever. Little piss-ant’s gonna spill the beans one way or another.”

  “Why do you keep calling him little?”

  “The curse got him as a young lad—fourteen, fifteen?”

  “Amali, I reckon?”

  “If he really is a thousand years old, that’d be pre-Divide, wouldn’t it? He’s pale as sin, with hair as black as his fucking soul probably, and he’s got no eyes.”

  A blind, adolescent Anima with black hair, you say? Could it actually be? “Sounds deadly, mate. I bet his name is something like Freakshow or Mortimer.”

  “Nothing as interesting as that,” Rhydian said. “It’s Jakob—Jakob Adler.”

  Over at The Workshop, Bells was outside smoking. I hadn’t spoken to Lucas Bellamy in ages. He got lucky, as far as Strachan jobs go, the messenger post was highly sought after. It was a relatively straightforward solo gig that saw you traveling the world on a regular basis, and you generally didn’t have to kill anyone. Poor Bells. Got a bit more than he was bargaining for coming to Amalia this time, didn’t he?

  I wrapped around The House, three clicks of the tongue, and tapped him on the shoulder. I spooked him regardless, but he didn’t try to kill me. He’d been deep in thought, and I could tell by the wild look in his eye, he was more than a bit stressed.

  “Stracha’s Steed,” he said.

  I waved him into the forest at the back.

  “I’m so bloody mad at you right now, mate,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  I chuckled. “Should I be offended?”

  “No, I’m relieved you’re all right. But I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the message about you being dead, and you’re not actually dead. I just want to go back to Palisade.”

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  “I get that,” I said, and then for the reason I exposed myself to Bells in the first place: “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “Why are you asking that? What are you even doing here?”

  “I can’t talk about it, but what’s important is: you never saw me.”

  Bells fumbled with a match trying to light his cigarette. “Nobody believes you’re dead, anyhow. Well, Rhian doesn’t, and the others seem to be deferring to her on that one.”

  After he explained all the finer details of the plan I hadn’t been able to get yet, I asked if there was anything I could help with. His job was dangerous, but Lucas was one of the fastest Strachan back at Palisade. He also had a sharp mind for timing and logistics, and despite being nervous, he said he was feeling confident in his task to lay and light the explosives between the schoolhouse and Oskari.

  “It’s good we’ve got you looking out,” he said.

  “Aye, and I’m glad you’re here. And I’m also sorry.”

  I was joking at the time. But I really had no idea how sorry I’d end up being.

  Ivana wasn’t in her office when I arrived at the Widow’s Peak, but I didn’t expect she would be. As far as the rest of the crew, Bells said he hadn’t seen Vincent that evening, but that Rhian, Strauss, and Adeline were having dinner at the inn.

  I pulled a chair over by the door behind the bar, sat, and listened.

  “—should at least have some bread,” Adeline said. “You can’t survive on oats and chicken broth, Father Strauss.”

  “I’m alive, aren’t I?” Strauss replied.

  “Not even a taste of pumpkin pie?”

  Rhian snickered, and I wished I could see her face.

  I found a cracker in my bag and ate it.

  Look, the whole thing was a bit sad in the moment, wasn’t it? Strauss’s bland diet, obviously, but the fact my sister and Adeline knew they’d be risking their lives the next day, but still found it in themselves to give Strauss a hard time about pie.

  One of those things shouldn’t have been happening.

  In hindsight, though, thinking back on the moment is even more devastating. My sister and Adeline knew they’d be risking their lives the next day, but Strauss didn’t know he’d be risking his. He had no idea that when he decided to pick up a few things at the church, Lidia would show up, disfigure, and permanently impair him. Now, here’s what Strauss he had to say on the subject when I interviewed him for this very book:

  

  An Interview with Andrei Strauss:

  “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.”

  “Michael warned me about the voice. It's worse than I thought.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my voice, mate. I sound professional.”

  “It’s not as though we’re recording the audio, Finlay. It’s Adeline at a typewriter.”

  “The tone comes through.”

  “Whatever you say. What do you wish to know?”

  “This isn’t about me, Strauss. But the people might need to be reminded: why did you go to the church that day?”

  “Because I needed supplies to perform Emerich Bach’s burial. We’d given him a temporary one, of course. Winter made the preservation much more feasible. But he was a faithful man, and he’d previously expressed a desire to be buried in his home ground with a traditional Amali ceremony. That was something I was equipped to give him.”

  “The people might then wonder: why choose the same afternoon as your scheduled showdown with Lidia? Shouldn’t you have been resting, or even coordinating with Michael?”

  “Without knowing what Rhian and Adeline were planning independently, my role in Commander Reider’s showdown was to be there alongside the others, try not to die, and with any luck, slay an Anima or two accidentally.”

  “I see. Thank you for clarifying. Now, the people may be wondering: when you found out, how did you feel about not being included in the plan? Had you known, do you believe you would have gone to the church that day?”

  “The two matters are unrelated. Sinclair’s plan had the precise number of people required to make it work. Anyone extra would have only meant more variables. Besides, I would have been seeking to fulfill my friend’s death wish regardless of whose plan I was involved in. And, in retrospect, it’s best I didn’t know.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Had I known about Sinclair’s plan, then so would have Lidia when she assaulted my mind that afternoon.”

  So, there you have it mates. Strauss wasn't upset for not being included. Adeline was immune to telepathy, and so were Sebastian and Alexander. Rhian and Bells had excellent counter-telepathy training. Anyone else knowing the details of the plan was a liability. There’d come a day when we’d all sit down and have a chat about that sort of thing, and how we’d handle similar situations in the future. But at the time? We were all just winging it.

  Anyhow—back at the Widow’s Peak that night, I was still hiding in the office.

  My heart skipped a beat when V came through the door and locked it behind her. It’d been a minute, and, well—one second I was standing to give her a hug, and the next she had me pinned against the wall, and then we were kissing, and then I was pressed against the desk, and then I was on the desk, and aye, the desk was basically the third consenting party in those five minutes of wild debauchery. V kept her hand over my mouth the whole time, and it was a good thing she did, let me tell you.

  When we were done, she kissed me and left to serve my friends.

  I buckled up my pants, and sat in the chair by the door again.

  Fun fact: Strauss tried the pie. He liked it.

  Peter was already in bed when I let myself into the estate, and Alexander was in the library. I poured myself a Piglet and joined him on the couch. Before then, he’d been looking at the portrait of his sister, the one that used to hang over his fireplace.

  “Tomorrow,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sad?”

  Alexander shrugged. “I’ve suffered four centuries of guilt for the actions of my sister who does not have the capacity to suffer for her own. I’m not sad, not yet, and I’m not certain what I’ll be when—if —she’s neutralized.”

  I sipped my Pig. Nerves were running hot, mates.

  Alexander puffed his pipe.

  “By the by,” I said, “I found Everleigh. She was just busy. I panicked for nothing.”

  “Good. Ivana mentioned you’d been concerned.”

  I remembered my time with V earlier that day. The way she’d seemed happy to see me, the way I’d been happy to see her, the way she kissed me, and the way I kissed her back.

  Aye, purely functional...

  We lounged in silence for a while.

  “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” Alexander finally said. “But you have my word, I’ll do everything in my power to keep Rhian safe.”

  “I gotta say, mate, knowing you’ll be there is about the only thing holding me together.”

  “Know the confrontation will be made easier by the uncomfortable truth that Lidia doesn’t want to hurt her. She likes Rhian, but she will also never stop doing what she does.”

  I dumped the Pig down my throat. Poor Rhian. Tomorrow, she was going to shoot a deranged Anima who liked her and looked like a sixteen year old lass.

  “When this all concludes,” Alexander continued, “and I hope it'll be tomorrow, Zelda will want a postmortem and finalized profiles for each of your friends. I’d be on your best behaviour as well, expect her to make an appearance soon.”

  

  A Night at Home With Zack - Entry Log #4

  “I need your help.”

  “Whatever with?” — “What are you drawing?”

  “It’s a map of the Anima network.”

  “It doesn’t look like—oh, no, I see it now.”

  “These are the points where the runner will be laying the explosives.” — “These are the intervals the explosions will go off.”

  “I see. And what would you like me to do?”

  “I need you to make sure there will be a decent concentration of Anima in this area here, at this time here.” — “You can influence them, right?”

  “You’re asking me to send my children to their deaths?”

  “Aye, because you know what? They’re not your children, mate.” I took my hat off and threw it on the bed for no other reason than I was cranky, and it felt right at the minute. “And you can’t take responsibility for what you did by trying to fix them all. It’s too late.”

  “If it were three hundred years ago, you’d be asking me to send your lover to her death for killing all four of her sisters, and then collectively marrying and murdering dozens of innocent men. Now, she’s the one who makes you lunch and plays with your hair. Can you live with that? And should I have to?”

  “You don’t want more regret on your hands.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I get that. But mate, if you really want to right your wrong, you have to know it’s going to take more than playing mystery theatre in Amalia. My friends and I are going to change the world—we’re going to fix your mistake. It’s up to you if you want to be there.”

  “Change the world—now you sound like my brother.”

  “I could only hope, because Sebastian’s one of the best people I know.”

  “Sebastian is—wait, you said it.”

  “What’d I say?”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Did I?”

  “You did.”

  “Zack, you might want to sit down.”

  “I am already sitting down, Feargus Finlay.”

  “Then you might want to lie down.”

  “Why?”

  “Mate, I’m so bloody tired. Just read my mind, all right?”

  “…”

  “…”

  “You’ve been friends with my brother for an entire year?”

  “Well, in my defense I didn’t know he was your brother.”

  “…”

  “…”

  “You saw Matilda?”

  “Aye.”

  “Still with the quill.” — “What’s wrong with Avis?”

  “I don’t know, mate, but her best friends seem to think she needs you.”

  “I see.” — “You were in my home?”

  “Well, I reckon you’re a man of many homes.”

  “True.”

  “That one’s ready for you, though, if you want to go back.”

  “…”

  “…”

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this information, Feargus Finlay.”

  “Mate, me neither. But here we both are. And let me tell you, I’m a very patient impatient man. But I’m starting to lose it. My patience—not my mind. But also maybe both.”

  “…”

  “…”

  “Wait, you’re hiding something. You’re hiding something well—very well.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, Zack. Will you help me tomorrow?”

  “Are you leveraging me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You understand I could kill you.”

  “Mate, I’m already dead. But if you want to know where your actual child is, you’re either going to have to violate me, or help me help the crew tomorrow.”

  “And here I thought we were friends.”

  “We are. That’s why you’re going to help me, and I’m going to tell you where Jakob is. Not because I’m leveraging you, but because that’s just what friends do.”