Alicja
"Alicja, this is Jake," Victor said, holding Jake by the back of the neck in one hand, and Jake's wallet open to his ID, in the other hand. "Jake, this is my bond-mate, so be very polite, and say hello."
"Ah. Hello," Jake said, his eyes wide, uncertain, humiliated and cowed.
"Hello, Jake," I said. Then, looking at Victor, "Bond-mate?"
He shrugged, "It's accurate, if undesirable. Just because we don't like something, doesn't make it disappear, does it?"
I looked at my wrist, "I guess not. Still. Sounds so, formal."
"I enjoy formality, always have. You know how men always complain about tight collars, and cravats?"
"Sure, only they're called ties, here."
"Not me. I love them. I like a formal ball. People are so polite, and the food is always very tasty. What about you Jake? Do you like formality?"
"I... I guess so," he said. Victor was holding him by the back of the neck, clamping him while lifting him up on his toes.
"Good," Victor said, pulling the chair closer. "because we're going to be formal now. I'm going to sit you down and you're going to tell me where your friends are, and why you're here alone."
Victor sat Jake into the chair. I stood up and backed away from the man. He was tall, thin, and had a scraggy growth of a beard, which was a few inches long, so he must be growing it on purpose.
"So, Jake," Victor said. "Where are your friends?"
"I... I don't know. I was to meet them down here, but they haven't shown up," Jake stammered. He wasn't old. Younger than Victor, who I believed to be thirty something. Or close to thirty something.
"Huh," Victor grunted. "That doesn't happen often. Men show up when they say they're going to, don't they?"
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jake agreed, as Victor released his neck.
"How long have you been waiting?"
"Over two hours," Jake said, his voice reaching for the whine of complaint at being ill used.
"So, you thought you would see if they were around here," Victor said. "I get it. Just making sure. Then you were going to go back to ...?"
"Well, back to the house, I guess," Jake said, finishing the sentence he was lured into. "That's where everyone was yesterday, I mean last night. So I figure they must be back there, right?"
"Well, yeah, that makes sense. Sure," Victor agreed, then looked thoughtful. Straightening up, he mused, "I'll bet you have a car around here somewhere, don't you Jake?"
"I got the van...?"
Victor nodded, "A van is good. A van is perfect in fact. Feel like giving me a ride, Jake?"
Jake looked up at Victor, then to me with a plea in his eyes, and then at the ground. In a defeated voice he said, "Look mister, if you want to go to the house, sure. I'll take you. We've been trying to get you out there for two months. I mean, not necessarily alive, but that's where we've been trying to get you to."
He paused, and then looked up at Victor, "But they're going to be waiting, and they'll kill you soon as see you."
Victor clapped the man on the back, "Don't you worry about me Jake, I'll take care of everything." Then to me he said, "Want to tell them inside, that we'll be heading out, and we'll call them later?"
"Um..." I started, then found myself with my arms crossed tight, and my brain close to being overwhelmed. "Are you sure this is a wise thing to do?"
"Wise?" he asked, his voice clean of his mock joviality. Looking at the ground, his manner calm, and respectful toward me, "Probably not wise, but in all other ways, it's good."
He looked up and met my eyes. This was why he was here, I reminded myself. I was in mourning for Oma, but he was also in mourning for his father.
He already told me he didn't kill. I wondered briefly how 'alive' he would leave a man who killed his dad? Or how concerned he would be if that man died in the hospital later.
Shaking my head out of the questions, I said, "Alright. I'll get my things."
Victor tracked me as I walked to the house, "Ask one of them to get the van and bring it around back. I'll be here with Jake."
I heard Victor sit down on the bench across from Jake, and begin asking him questions, as I ran into the house.
Mal and Sean were both excited, discovering that a Hunter had been watching the house from the alley.
After finding out where the van was, Sean ran down the street, to bring it around. I grabbed my pack, secured Oma's journal, and then talked to Mal about my place.
"If I'm not back tonight, or I don't call you â it doesn't mean anything went south, but I want you to close my house up. Empty the fridge, take out the trash, that sort of thing. And check the mail at least twice a week."
"A week?" Mal asked. "What could happen?"
"Not sure, but I could wind up back where Victor is from, in the Otherworld. More likely I'll be shot and killed with Victor, out at some backwater house in Blue Bayou. But, never know. He might know what he's doing."
"Shit. This is serious shit," Mal said, looking nervous. "Are you sure you want to go with him?"
"I have to, Mal," I said, my voice almost breaking. "I'm bound to him. I can't be far away from him. And he needs to do this. It's why he's here."
He looked at the ceiling and then lifted his arms in defeat, "I got nothing." Looking back down, his eyes focused, "But I can keep an eye on the police. I'll get the police radios out there up on the computer and scan for trouble. We'll come if we hear something violent going on."
"Yeah, ok, do that," I said, not wanting to take it away from him. Wishing I had something to focus on, any distraction right now would be good.
Sean parked the van out in the alley, and I followed Victor and Jake into the van. Then we were driving down the alley and out to the road.
Jake took us out of the city, his attention divided between the road and Victor, who continued asking the frightened man questions about the Hunters.
"But, how did you get across? Did you know where you were going?" Victor was asking.
"Sure, well, kinda," Jake said. "I mean, we were going into hell, to keep the devils from coming over to our side."
"Devils, eh? I guess I can see that. You see someone with horns and a tail, he's got to be a devil, right?"
"Yeah, that's the way of it," Jake agreed. "And a man's got to protect his land, right?"
"Sure, that makes sense too. Man's got to protect his own," Victor said, turning to look out the side window. "Protection is important," he added, in a soft tone which questioned the statement even as he affirmed it, his voice a mere rumble.
I sat on the bench seat behind them. I had Jake's gun in my hands. I checked it â it was loaded. Setting the safety I put it in my bag. I didn't want to shoot anyone. I would. But I didn't want to.
The list of things I was currently doing, that I didn't want to be doing, played across my mind. It was a daunting list. I bit my lip and looked out at the passing landscape.
These could be my last hours. Of course, that was always true. It was a fallacy to believe otherwise. A cognitive bias we all share. Hyperbolic Discounting? Was that the one? There were so many.
My people, the Enedra, were trained in the biases as soon as we could read. What to watch for, what to do to keep them at bay. You couldn't cure yourself from them. They were effects from the way our minds sorted, stored and retrieved information. You could minimize their effects, however.
Since we were researchers, hunting and absorbing information everyday, gathering it without bias was of major import. It was the difference between knowledge and trivia.
Jake drove us through Blue Bayou, down the main road, and then out of the town, continuing north on a two lane road, which soon became a single lane. Then we left the pavement onto a dirt road continuing north.
Willows and moss hanging in long drapes from cypress trees were all around us. Victor had rolled the window down and was intent on the world around him. His senses reaching out to discover anyone or anything that might be a threat. His intensity vibrated off him.
Jake slowed the van and turned onto a side road. After only a few hundred feet, Victor told him to pull over.
"The house is just up ahead," Jake said, as he complied.
"Yeah, but something isn't right," Victor said. "Keep your gun on Jake, Alicja. I'm going to check something."
I did as he asked, pulling the gun out and clicking the safety off. Jake swallowed. I didn't blame him.
Victor was only gone for a brief time. "You usually have a guard out here, Jake?"
"Yeah, sure. To keep looky-loos out of here."
Victor nodded, and got back into the van. "Let's go."
Jake checked Victor's expression and decided he meant what he said. So he pulled the van back out and continued forward to the house.
The canopy of cypress and willows lifted and then sky above shown over a wide clearing. A meadow of sorts, with a large two story house standing a hundred yards away, somewhat in the middle of everything.
There were eight, maybe nine cars parked around the front and on the side. Several motorcycles. I could see the roof of a barn back behind the house.
The wood it was built with was grayed and worn by weather and age. I wondered if it was ever painted. If it was, there were no signs of it now. I doubted the roof kept much rain out.
Jake brought the van to a stop. "You want me to drive up to the house?"
Victor sat, staring out at the house, and then nodded. "Might as well," he said. His voice and manner were suddenly resolute.
"What's the matter, Victor?" I asked.
"Might be too late," he sighed.
Too late? Too late for what?
I didn't ask. Jake put the van in Drive and crept forward. The tires crunched and rolled ahead. The pistol felt heavy in my hand. I set the safety again. I couldn't fire it in here. My throat dried, and it became difficult to swallow. I suddenly had to pee.
Would they just start shooting?
What would they do when they saw Victor? They would recognize him, right? Or would they just see a stranger?
We came up to the house, and Jake parked the van. Putting it in park and turning the engine off.
"We're here," he said, worry adding a whimper to his expression.
"Let's, you and me, Jake, go inside and see what we find," Victor said, his voice no longer jovial. He felt solemn, and restrained.
"If I have to," Jake said, his hands shaking as he unbuckled his seat belt, and opened his door.
Victor hopped out, and then looked back in to me, "I don't think we'll have any trouble. I believe trouble already found these men."
"What?" I asked, leaning forward.
"There's a lot of blood spilled inside. The guard back on the road was dead. His heart ripped out. Can you sit tight, let me look?"
I nodded. I didn't want to see dead people. I also didn't want to be dead people. I put the gun back in my pack and then put my pack on. If I had to move, it was going to be quickly â or not at all.
He bowed his head to me, and then closed the door.
"Come on, Jake, let's go see your pals."