Dedicated to the memory of my aunt, Betty Jo McGuire, who never had an enemy in her life.
Chapter 1
I stared at him, he stared at me; he knew he was only centimeters from death. A few gentle strokes of the trigger of my gun, and his loathable brain would be decorating the Coldplay posters on the wall behind him. It was a delicate air between us, he and I, as the world kept going somewhere outside the four walls of James Fries's house. There was a smell in the air, his cologne - heavy, overdone - just like everything else about him, from the leather jacket that looked like it would cost more than a Third World Country's GDP, to the finely manicured nails, each smoother than the last, to the chiseled features that most girls would die for. More than a few had, actually.
"So..." he said casually, not meeting my heated glare. My gun never wavered off of him, he knew it, and he was doing everything he could to try not appear cowed by the subordinate position I had maneuvered him into. "We're just going to sit here until-"
"Yep." I maintained a level gaze at him, trying hard not to even blink and take my eyes off him. He was cagey, this bastard, overly clever, and I didn't want to provide him an opening. I didn't really think he was going to try something, but part of me really, really wanted him to, just so I could have an excuse to kill him. The problem was, I was missing a hand from a battle I'd been in earlier in the evening. I had the stump covered up carefully, unwilling to let him see my weakness before the appendage had a chance to grow back. "The less you talk, the more likely you are to maintain the structural integrity of your skull all the way through to the end of our time together."
He gave a half-hearted laugh, but it was a thing of the wind, a subtle breath of air like a hiss rather than anything remotely related to joviality. "You're not going to kill me."
I didn't even blink as I fired. Twice. "No?"
Blood seeped across his clean white shirt and dribbled down his chin. A steady ooze of red radiated outward from both sides of his chest. "Bitch," he said, and a cloud of red and spittle was brought out by his speech, wet words tinged with the air and liquid seeping into his lungs from where I had shot him. "This won't kill me."
I watched as he slumped on the couch, the stains on either side of the buttons that demarcated the center of his chest growing worse by the second. It had been pretty decent aim, I thought, to put one in each lung, stopping him from calling out. He wheezed as he slid limp down the couch to a resting position on his side. I sat in my chair, across the room, watching, never taking my eyes off him, even as his registered pain, flickered with the agony of what was happening to him. "You..." he gasped, trying to force air into his lungs. It wasn't staying in, however, it was draining out and filling his chest cavity. I imagined it hurt, judging by the look on his face. I was strangely unmoved, both emotionally and physically.
"If you're going to call me a bitch again, you can save your breath," I said, keeping my pistol leveled at him. I aimed for the head, this time. I really didn't think he was going to do anything threatening in his present state, but he was rapidly outliving any uses I had for him. The sting of phantom pain in my missing hand was making me ornery, I thought. Either that or the recent rash of people I had killed had eliminated any desire on my part to be merciful to one of the most prolific serial killers I had ever encountered.
It was actually rather sad that I could say that he wasn't even close to the most prolific. The man (beast) with that singular honor still resided in my own head.
"This won't..." he spit up blood, even as his cheek pressed against the cloth of the couch he was now splayed on. He didn't look like he had much control over his limbs. The smell of gunpowder was thick in the air, finally blotting out his awful cologne. I was thankful for that little blessing. "This won't...kill me..." he gasped out, then went silent, a torrent of red flooding out of his lips as his eyes glazed over, then closed.
"No," I said, relaxing in the chair, letting the gun slide out of my grasp to rest on my lap, "but it'll damned well shut you up." His muscles relaxed, and his body went limp on the sofa. I saw the soft up and down motion of his chest as he continued to breathe in spite of his injuries, his metahuman physiology already working to repair the damage I had done. "And frankly," I said, letting my only remaining hand rub my eyes, which were burning, "that's all I need from you at present."
Chapter 2
"Was that truly necessary?" He sighed, and shook his head, almost paternally. I didn't buy it.
"Hello, Janus," I said. He had walked in without a word, saw Fries lying in a pool of his own blood, and cast me the look. You know the one - something between disappointment and resignation.
"Hello," he said, somewhat gruffly this time. He gave a wave of his hand at the mess of Fries on the couch. "Is this to be the omen on which we open the next chapter of our relationship?"
I tried to keep from curling my lip. "I saw the way Kat was all over your suit last time; I think I'd prefer something like this as an omen rather than something that might leave you open to any suggestion."
A wry smile made its way out of his stony facade, a little self-deprecating. "Fair enough." He stiffened, his tweed suitcoat rustling as he went upright as though someone had hit him in the back. "Good gods, he's still alive."
I shrugged. "Yeah. And..." I frowned. "You just said, 'Good gods'."
He stared at me in concentration, as though he were picking through his last statement. "Yes? What of it?"
"You self-reference in exclamation?" A deeply disturbing thought crossed my mind that caused me to grimace further. "Wait...when you're with Kat, do you call out your own name?" My face soured, utterly beyond my control.
"If I may," Janus said sternly, "this man is still alive."
"Barely," Fries groaned, his eyes still closed. He was splayed out on the sofa, arm draped over the side.
"Oh, stop milking it, you big faker," I said. "You're fine."
"You shot me in both lungs."
"You're probably halfway healed by now," I said. "Besides, your boss and I have things to discuss."
"Do we, now?" Janus said with a cocked eyebrow. His beard was looking a little longer than when last I had seen it a week or so ago. "Very well, then. You had James summon me from my business in Texas." He spread his arms expansively, then nudged Fries' legs out of the way. The incubus groaned before moving them reluctantly, and Janus sat down, careful not to park himself in the puddle of blood. "What would you like to talk about?" He eyed the pistol in my hands. "And, before we begin, do you truly feel as though you need that?"
"Strictly for him," I said, gesturing to Fries.
"I don't think he'll be giving you any more problems," Janus said and gave Fries a sharp slap to the hip that caused the younger man to grunt in pain. "Isn't that right, James?"
"I will give you no difficulties," Fries said, gasping. "You on the other hand, have given me-"
"A down payment on future pain," I said. "I could make another installment now, if you'd like."
Fries went quiet, and Janus gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod of agreement. "So," Janus said, "what shall we talk about? The state of the world? Employment opportunities?"
"Erich Winter," I said.
"Mmm." Janus gave me a slight nod. "Not one of my favorite subjects, I will admit. But very well. What about him?"
I watched the old god's eyes, and he watched me. "You know what he did?"
"Indeed I do," Janus said slowly. "Rumors percolate quickly through the meta world, especially when one spreads money around with recently unemployed persons who used to work for-"
"You paid some of the agents that used to work for the Directorate?"
Janus gave another easy shrug. "It would be foolish of us not to. We give them a little 'severance package' to compensate them for the fact that Erich Winter did not, and they are kind enough to send a few whispers our way." He grew more serious. "I was...very sorry to hear about what he did to you, of course."
I didn't blink. "Your organization has done almost as bad or worse to me. Winter only metaphorically ripped my guts out. You remain the only ones who have done it literally."
Janus gave a slight grimace. "I have already apologized for this...unkindness on the part of previous management, but if you'd like, I'd be more than willing to tell you how sorry I am again-"
"And I'd be no less likely to believe it now than I did then."
There was a faint settling of the lines at his crows' feet around his eyes. "This is a problem, then," Janus said, his voice smooth. He lay his left hand on the wooden edge that was exposed at the end of the arm of the couch and began to tap his nails against it. "Without trust, it will be difficult to have any sort of communication between us. I could tell you many things, but..."
"Stow it," I said. "I'm not looking to trust you on anything other than a limited basis. But you want Winter dead, and I can deliver."
"Ah, but in point of fact I don't care whether Erich Winter lives or dies at present," Janus said, "so long as he continues to stay out of my way. Out of Omega's way."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "And are they one and the same - your way and Omega's?"
He shrugged again. "Not necessarily. I am hardly the Alpha of Omega, if you'll pardon the pun."
I rolled my eyes. "As I understand it, you have an entirely different Alpha trying to batter down Omega at present."
His expression darkened, only briefly. "An unfortunate group of upstarts and malcontents who suffer from delusions of being a far greater danger than the nuisance they actually represent to us."
"That's not how I hear it."
"Yes, well," Janus said, with a little bit of snap, "when you only hear one side of the story, you shouldn't be surprised when it turns out one-sided."
"Rather than two-faced, you mean?" I ignored the heavy sigh that Janus let out in response. "I'll give you credit, it was clever," I said. "Did you come up with that one all by your lonesome?"
He gave me a wary look. "We can't all be as witty as you. But...you want Winter, then? To fit him for a coffin, I expect, like you did with the others?"
I stared at him through slitted eyes. "Which former Directorate employee told you about them?"
Credit to him, he didn't blink away. "None of them. One of our cleverer technical fellows managed to get coroner reports for Clary and Parks, as well as a crime scene report for Kappler's condominium." His words came out slow, almost as though he were chiding me. "That one was quite messy, as I understand it. Bullets in the walls, blood everywhere, two women missing."
"One's alive," I said coolly.
He cocked his eyebrow again. "Ah, the fabled Ariadne lives on to provide guidance to the next one to try and get out of the maze." He waited for me to respond, and when I didn't, he went on. "Because, you see, the original Ariadne, from myth-"
"I got it." I thought about it for a second. "But that wasn't her-"
"No," he agreed. "The original was quite a bit...huskier than you might have imagined." He shrugged. "Theseus did what he had to do, you know." His hands came to rest on his knees, and I watched his fingers knead them. "So, Winter. You want him dead, and you think I can help you in some way."
I let my gaze drift from Fries's inert body to Janus. "Can you?"
He stood. "I could, but I would only do it if you give me a compelling reason, not out of any need Omega has for him to be dead." He looked at me carefully. "If you want Winter, you must negotiate for him."
I let out an impatient sigh. "This isn't a negotiation."
"Everything in life is a negotiation," Janus said. "If we were to decide to go out for breakfast," my stomach rumbled at the thought of his suggestion, "and you wanted Chinese but I wanted Greek, which would we decide on?"
"I generally don't think of egg drop soup when considering breakfast," I said warily, "preferring real eggs."
He waved a hand at me dismissively. "You know what I am saying. We would discuss back and forth, have a bit of give and take, if we were reasonable people. I would try persuade you to my way of thinking, you would try to persuade me to yours. The give and take, yes? I'd like this, you'd like that-"
"I'd like medical attention," Fries said in a low moan from the couch.
"You're about to get my attention again," I said, and pointed the gun at him. "Will that suffice?"
"No," he croaked.
"No is a good word," I said, "You should learn what it means when a woman says it to you."
Fries looked up at me. "I-"
I pointed the gun at him, refining my aim to put the white dot of the center sight just below the middle of his forehead. "Choose your next words carefully, James." I waited, and he said nothing. "Good choice." I looked back to Janus. "What do you want from me?"
He smiled, his teeth showing only the slightest bit of yellowing. "I want you to come to London, to Omega headquarters. I want you to see how we work, the scale of what we're currently involved in fighting." His smile disappated, but only slightly. "I want you to join us."
I felt the slow grind of my molars. "No, thanks. I've already been part of one sham of a meta organization that nearly killed me. You know what they say about not learning from your own mistakes, right?"
He stared at me blankly. "I...I don't believe I've heard that one."
I ran the old phrase back in my head to make sure I had it right. "A wise person learns from the mistakes of others, a normal person learns from their own, and a fool learns nothing, ever."
"So does that make you a fool or normal?" Fries asked me with a pained cackle.
"I've shot you on several different occasions now," I said, "so what does it make you, for continuing to get shot by me?"
"I'd avoid you if I could."
"Come on, James," I said with a little false enthusiasm, "you can do it. Try harder."
"If I may," Janus said, "might we come back to my offer? I could give you assurances that Omega means you no harm-"
"All of which are meaningless to me," I said, "because of Wolfe, Henderschott, Fries," I waved the gun at the mess of James still huddled on the couch, "Mormont, the vamps, Bjorn - who, hey, he's a real charmer, and now I'm stuck with him forever, by the way-"
Janus's eyes twitched closed for a moment, then reopened as he grimaced. "He is...with you, then? In your mind?"
"Usually at the moments of least convenience," I said. "He's blissfully quiet right now." A voice sounded in my head: Just listening, Cookie. "It would appear I spoke too soon."
Janus grew a look of slight concern, then waved it away. "This is ultimately irrelevant."
"It's relevant to me, he's really annoying sometimes-"
Janus's expression darkened. "I meant to our discussion."
I rolled my eyes. "Try living with three former employees of Omega in your head; I swear, the only thing I have more of than former Omega employees is former Directorate ones." I went on, feeling a little like a gossip. "And Gavrikov! Do you know he never shuts up about your stupid girlfriend?"
"You want Winter," Janus said, his voice straining to get us back on topic even as he seemed to be trying to keep emotion off his face, "I can give you assistance in killing him. But there will be a price."
"Why don't you just tell me where he is and call it a...present." I smiled. "Like a goodwill present to make up for all the shit you've put me through."
His expression turned to pitying. "Let us call him what he really is - leverage. A motivator for you to begin going through the actions it will take to convince you that Omega is the sole force fighting to preserve metahumans from the impending calamity that Century is bringing."
I felt a tug at his words. "I don't care about Century. About any of that." Liar, liar, Zack said quietly in my head.
"No?" He stared coolly back at me, and let a hand go to one of his pockets, smoothing it shut. "I find it hard to believe that somewhere, beneath that...hard-edged exterior you carry around you, that there is not a care present at all for your fellow man - and woman, I suppose they would say nowadays."
"I care about paying back Winter." I let the knife edge in my voice reflect the emotions I had beneath the surface. "I want him to die for what he did to me. You give me him, and I'll help fight your little war."
He hesitated, thinking over his next line, and I caught a hint of pity. "It is a war that belongs to all of us, I think. I hope in time you will see the truth of that."
"So long as I see Erich Winter's head on a pike first."
Janus gave me a low nod, but his shoulders seemed a little more slumped than when he had come in. "Very well. I will set our intelligence gathering in motion to track him down. But," he said wagging a finger at me, "it will be some time before we venture off to get him, even if we were to locate him tomorrow. That is the bargain - you will come with me, see our efforts. It could be months," he said, "and I tell you this so there is no misunderstanding. You see our work, what we do, our efforts, and in three months, I will give you Erich Winter. Can you agree to that?"
"Will I find him without you?" I asked, sarcastic.
He shook his head. "I think not. He has not survived for thousands of years through countless feuds among our fickle and murderous people by stupidly walking into danger." He waited in silence for a moment before speaking again, as though hoping I would leap into the conversation to answer before he had to ask the question. "Will you come with me to London?"
"Please do," Fries said with a low moan.
I gave it a long thought; there was a strong disagreement in my head. I don't just mean that I was internally at war, I mean that Wolfe, Gavrikov and Bjorn were enthusiastically supportive of the idea of me going to London - to meet with Omega, to pursue revenge - while the other voices, Kappler, Bastian and Zack, were somewhat more reluctant. It was like being in the middle of a shouting match, and I could barely make out all the different arguments being made in my head, just the general tone."
"Will you come with me?" Janus asked again, and the cacophony died down.
I stared at him for a long moment as I went through it all in my head, all the options. "Yes," I said, and there was a chorus of disharmony in my head at the decision. "I don't see any other way to get what I want, so yes." I listened in particular to one voice, one that I almost had to strain to hear, behind the other, louder ones, but it was there. Zack. My love.
Watch your back.
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