Matthew and Epp, Probability Angels: Part 5

Probability Angels: Part 5

Probability Angels

Part 5: Robin’s Flight

by

Joseph Devon

Eyeball and Printer Friendly Version

(Please note: This story is the fifth part of a series of stories beginning with, “Probability Angels: Part 1,” and while it is designed to stand alone it does draw heavily on the foundation of characters and events that were created in “Probability Angels: Part 1,” and continued through Parts 2, 3, and 4. Basically, I have to highly recommend that you start at “Part 1: Second Choice” and continue on in order.

Or you can go here and buy the book or go here and view the book in its entirety.)

The graveyard was covered in snow. Hector stood and shuffled his feet, his suit jacket stretching taut across his strong back and shoulders, his mirrored sunglasses a tiny snow covered graveyard all on their own.

Next to him stood a shorter man with a bald eggshell skull and a hat in his hands. He was working the brim of his hat through his fingers, rotating it in circles over and over. Gold rimmed spectacles covered his face like the clasp on a jewelry box. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, then went back to moving his hat through his fingers.

Behind him stood a girl in her early twenties with long hair as dark as a raven and black eyebrows over a plump nose. Her eyes were heavily lidded and the hints of purple makeup surrounding them served to make her hair seem darker. Overall her face gave the impression of stupidity unless she happened to look directly at you, at which point an intense energy was conveyed. The rest of her was bouncy, as if she were six years old and impatiently waiting for something. One of her hands was bare; the other was sheathed in a delicate looking black leather glove. She was staring at the back of the bald man’s head.

“I still don’t understand why Gregor wants to meet with me here of all places,” the short man said looking around at the snow capped gravestones.

“Because he does, Jerome,” Hector said with the air of someone who doesn’t care much about the complaint he’s responding to.

Hector reached over and took Jerome’s arm, pulling it closer he looked down at his watch. Then he turned and looked back over his shoulder at the raven haired woman, holding Jerome’s arm up as if it were merely an extension of the watch, he asked, “Is this right?”

The woman didn’t respond, only remained staring at the nape of Jerome’s neck.

“Nyx?” Hector said, and the woman stirred and focused on him. “Nyx, is this right?”

Nyx pulled a pocket watch from her coat pocket. “It’s right,” she said, then she resumed her stare at the back of Jerome’s head.

“It’s just unnatural is what it is,” Jerome said, not paying much attention to any of this. “Our kind shouldn’t be spending time in a graveyard.”

“Gregor got to know graveyards rather well back when the Council was starving him out,” Hector said, his voice engaging in the conversation now that they had found a topic he was interested in discussing.

“And when was that?” Jerome asked. “Three, four hundred years ago? The Council relented; Gregor doesn’t need to frequent these places anymore.”

“You mean Epp relented.”

“Epp was only a small part of what happened, Hector. He created the Council, sure, but he envisioned less an attempt at a governing body and more a general pool of knowledgeable people that could share ideas.” Jerome’s voice was nasally, a quality that, combined with his demeanor, made him always sound as if he were giving a lecture.

“Epp created the Council,” Hector countered. “He put all those testers into one room and directed them to consider Gregor’s actions. And he didn’t stop them when they decided to punish Gregor. And I believe starving Gregor out was even Epp’s idea. They wouldn’t let Gregor, a fully formed tester, push anyone. The man roamed this world with no energy to feed on. You wonder why he wants to meet in a graveyard? These places are like second homes to him. He almost became a permanent resident.”

“I’m aware of the history,” Jerome said with indignation. He looked at his watch again. “It was a period of time when barriers of all kinds were being broken, the world was shrinking and travel between continents was far more widespread. I hardly think Epp is responsible for a hundred other testers becoming overzealous with the notion of what was possible. Even Gregor himself has forgiven the Council to the point that he’s taken a position of prominence among them.”

Hector tilted his torso forward so as to get a good look at Jerome. “You really are one of his, aren’t you?”

“One of who’s?” Jerome asked, shrinking away from Hector’s body language.

“One of Epp’s.”

“He was the first tester I came in contact with after my first choice. And he became a bit of a mentor to me after my second choice, but I hardly consider myself ‘one of his.’” Jerome was overly diffident, using the tone of someone who is proud of what he has become but is still too unsure of himself to allow any credit to be given to anyone else.

“You’re one of his, alright,” Hector said, backing away and staring at the snow. “It’s important to understand one’s heritage, Jerome.”

Hector looked back at Nyx. She was holding up her pocket watch by its chain, letting it swing back and forth, and she shook her head and mouthed the word, “No.”

“How much longer are we going to wait?” Jerome asked.

“We asked someone else to meet us here,” Hector said, glancing around. “Another Epp supporter. Guy’s name is Robin. But it looks like he won’t be showing up.”

“Hector,” Jerome said, smiling, “I’d hardly call myself a supporter of Epp. The connotations of that word make it sound like-” Jerome broke off his thought and jumped backwards as a decayed hand landed with a clump on the headstone right in front of him. The hand flexed and grabbed a hold of the rounded top of the stone and pulled the rest of the body up, a half rotted head rising into sight, teeth visible through holes in its cheeks, eyeballs looking too large for the head without skin covering them as they stared at Jerome. The mouth of the thing opened and it breathed heavily, its wrinkled lips making a sick mockery of a smile, and Jerome got the distinct notion it was trying to laugh or express happiness of some sort. He stepped forward and quickly moved his hands; yellow caution tape appeared tying the corpse to the headstone.

“You know, just because they move slowly,” Jerome said, turning back towards Hector and Nyx, “doesn’t mean they still aren’t dangerous.”

Hector looked at Nyx and nodded. “Actually,” he said, suddenly loud and engaged, and Jerome turned to hear what he had to say. “They don’t always move slow. If they’re fed powerful enough testers, enough of them mind you, they actually start to grow back.”

Jerome looked puzzled. “Who would feed them testers?”

“I’m just saying,” Hector said, “they wind up here because they’ve given up, and they start to rot because they don’t take in any energy,” Hector regarded the corpse tied up in yellow tape. “And after awhile their hunger passes a point and they become dangerous, able to feed on testers themselves, able to suck life from what they once were. However, if one of these things,” Hector said, walking over to the decaying corpse and beginning to unravel the yellow tape Jerome had put up, “gets to feed on ten or twelve good healthy testers, they actually start to grow back. And the funny thing is that they come back faster than normal and far,” Hector wadded up the yellow tape as the thing began to move again, “far more powerful. And, eventually, they come to look just like any other tester out there…although there are always some parts of them that don’t regenerate fully.” The rotting corpse was resuming its painfully slow crawl towards Jerome. “Like, say one of their hands might not look right.” Behind Jerome, Nyx flexed her one gloved hand, the leather creaking in the cold. “Or their eyes might not completely heal.” Hector stared at Jerome through his mirrored sunglasses.

“What are you-”

Nyx slipped behind Jerome and clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes opening wide as she caught him mid-breath. Her other hand went to his shoulder. With what seemed like the gentlest pressure she pressed down and Jerome’s body sank to the ground.

It was clear from his thrashing and muffled yells that he was trying to fight back, but every attempt to push back against Nyx accomplished nothing and when he tried to dig his fingers under her hand and pry it away from his mouth it looked like he was trying to bend solid steel.

She held him down on his knees in front of her, facing the rotting corpse that was crawling his way. Jerome’s face managed to push against Nyx’s hand hard enough at one point that he cut himself and smeared blood on Nyx’s palm. With a gasp of delight she took her hand off his mouth and held it up in front of her face.

Jerome began screaming but even with only her one gloved hand on his shoulder, Nyx easily held him in place. She closed her eyes and was about to taste his blood when Hector grabbed her wrist.

“No,” he ordered. “He’s not yours.”

“But it’s only a drop,” she pouted as Jerome turned back to look at them and began to beg.

“I don’t trust you to stop once you start,” Hector said.

“Please,” Jerome pleaded, a thin edge of panic lining his voice, “let me up you’re hurting me and-”

Nyx clamped her hand over his mouth again.

The thing was close now. Jerome’s screams grew louder against Nyx’s palm, short whistling breaths spurted out of his nose, and then his muffled screams grew higher in pitch as the thing reached a hand into his stomach and began to feed.

Eventually it was over.

Hector and Nyx sat back against the next row of gravestones and stared at the area of ground that was now a mix of snow white, dirt brown and blood red. Nothing of Jerome was left and the corpse was laying face down. The changes were small but noticeable. Parts of its clothes were less tattered, and the hands were showing marked improvement, almost no bone was visible on the right one.

“How many more do you think for this one?” Nyx asked, sucking Jerome’s blood off the heel of her palm.

“I’d say maybe four,” Hector said. “But we could probably name it after the next one.”

Nyx tilted her head and ran her tongue over her teeth. “He tastes English,” she decided.

Hector suddenly gripped her arm.

“What?” she asked, trying to wriggle away from him.

He got to his feet and pulled her up as well. “Did you see that?” he said, staring out over the graves.

“See what?”

“I think it was the other one.”

“Robin?”

Hector nodded. “Did you notice anyone here earlier?”

“Me?” Nyx asked. “No, I sort of had my hands full, remember? Do you think he saw anything?”

“He saw this,” Hector said, looking around at the mess in the snow, “that’s for certain.” He turned to her. “Can you go after him?”

“I can try,” she said.

“Okay. Go. I’m going to get a hold of Gregor.”

Nyx walked lightly over to the area where Hector had seen something and began to look around. Her face was sour in thought. She contemplated the snow, the gravestones, the air, the nearby trees, then her usual look of blank bounciness came back as she figured something out and a few seconds later she was gone. Hector watched this, then he vanished as well.

Face down in the snow the back of the not so rotted corpse rose and fell, rose and fell, as it breathed in the cold winter air.

—–

 

The hallway was big and full of echoes as people passed up and down it, moving in and out of the offices that ran its cold stone length. Hector stood in the middle of the hallway watching Gregor talking to three or four testers over by a wooden bench. Occasionally a handful of passing persons would walk through them, oblivious to their existence. Eventually Gregor finished discussing whatever it was he was discussing with the three other testers and with a few handshakes and goodbyes they turned and left.

“You’d think the Council could figure out a better place to meet,” Hector said as another handful of people walked through him and Gregor. “Like a big empty cave or something.”

Gregor looked confused. “Who wants to meet in a cave? There are plenty of empty rooms in this building. We’re always causing leaks or broken windows or what have you so if someone needs privacy or can’t hear themselves talking over the din there’s somewhere to go. But most meetings are like the one you just saw, a couple of people stopping in to chat about something or ask a question before heading off. Nobody wants to trek out to some distant empty cave. We like this place.”

“Still,” Hector said, walking along beside Gregor, he raised his voice as someone walked through him going the other direction shouting into a cell phone, “we’re basically gods to these things. It seems a little backwards to me.”

“Well maybe we’ll look into fixing that after things have changed. Now,” Gregor said, stopping at a door with a “Closed for Repainting” sign taped to the outside, “please step into my office.”

The two walked through the door and entered a small room. The furniture inside was draped over with dust covers. Gregor looked around. “They’ve been painting this room since Son of Sam was around.”

“Still seems silly,” Hector said, taking a seat, the dust cover rumpling under his body.

“So,” Gregor said, sitting on the corner of the desk and looking down at Hector. “Your message said that Robin never showed?”

“Never showed is most likely,” Hector answered, “but there’s a chance he showed up at the wrong time and then took off.”

“So he could have seen…”

“He could have seen everything, nothing, a tiny bit, it’s impossible to say, I only thought I might have seen something. At the most he’ll be suspicious. I don’t think, even if he really was there, that he saw enough to get anyone of any import to panic with him.”

“The only one of any import,” Gregor said, tugging at his lip and stared down at the floor, “is Epp. Everyone else can be handled, or already has been handled, at this point.” Hector waited, not saying anything, recognizing that Gregor was lost in thought. Eventually Gregor looked up, something having been decided, although Hector also knew that whatever had been decided might never be revealed to him. “This is why there are supposed to be two of you there for every feeding,” Gregor said.

“You have any idea how hard it is to lure a tester into a graveyard? We got two testers agreeing in one week, we decided it was worth the risk.”

“Don’t call them testers,” Gregor said.

“It’s what they are.”

“I know but,” Gregor turned away, dissatisfied with the thought, “they’re of a certain class of testers.” Then his thoughts took a different track. “You are double checking my research, right? I don’t want anyone fed to the kids if we even have a doubt that-”

“I’ve told you,” Hector said, “all of the victims are checked over carefully by me, and if I’m unsure then we don’t move forward. The only ones we’re using for fodder are the ones who, when push comes to shove, were the ones who were going to stand by Epp to the very end.”

“That maniac has more people willing to support him than seems possible,” Gregor said with tired musing.

“True,” Hector replied. “But not nearly as many as he used to have.”

Gregor nodded. “Okay, so, Robin? What are you doing about that?”

“Nyx is sniffing him out. She’s decent at tracking people down, nothing like that Japanese freak, but she can do okay.”

“I’m assuming you mean Kyo.”

“Yeah, that guy. You really think you have him handled?”

“When the time comes,” Gregor said, “I believe he’ll come right to us.”

“Well, when that happens, I know Nyx wants first crack. She’s dying to know what he tastes like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gregor said, rolling his eyes. “Now back to Robin.”

“We wait and see what Nyx can turn up. If Robin saw anything than there’s really only one person he’s going to try to get in touch with. How likely is Epp to see him?”

“He’ll see him, they were close enough a few centuries ago, but I’m not sure if Robin has Epp’s current number.”

“So if Robin gets a bead on where Epp is and shows up then Epp will most likely listen to him.”

“And this whole thing will have to kick off much earlier than we planned,” Gregor agreed.

“But Nyx is on his trail.”

“And she’ll be in touch with us the second she knows anything?”

“Of course,” Hector said. “And,” he went on, “we have the decided advantage that if Robin saw anything, then he’s bound to be in a complete panic. He’s not likely to trust anyone but Epp himself.”

“Yes,” Gregor said, “there’s that. Do we know where Epp is? I usually make some pretext to contact him every day or so-”

“Or put him on trial.”

“I saw a shot,” Gregor said, “I took it. At any rate, I haven’t heard from Epp in a day or so but he’s most likely with that new one he’s bringing along.”

“The idiot?”

“Matthew, yes. Epp certainly chooses strange company, doesn’t he?”

“He’s a fan of anything deviant.”

“Well, while Nyx is trying to follow Robin you can try to find Epp. That’s where Robin is headed. If you can stay close to Epp then we’ll basically have Robin trapped in between Nyx and yourself.”

Hector nodded. “I’ll call around.”

“Now,” Gregor said, “I have a meeting to get to,” and he stood up and walked through the door.

Hector sat back on the dust cover, took out his cell phone and began making calls.

—–

 

Matthew stood on the street corner watching people walk past. His tuxedo was billowing in quick ruffles against his body as the winter wind rushed up Lexington Avenue. People walked around him and through him, huddled against the cold, bent into the wind.

Then he saw her, black hat covering her long hair and her hands in a puffy winter coat, and although he knew he had no heart he could feel his pulse racing, and although he knew he had no stomach he could feel it churning and although he knew he had no skin he could feel it prickling.

“You know, there’s more than one reason why this is dangerous,” Epp said, appearing next to him. This effect usually startled Matthew, but he was too lost to be startled.

“Just wanted to see my daughter again,” Matthew said, his eyes still on the girl. “What’s so dangerous about that?”

“Nothing in this world is dangerous, Matthew, until it becomes so.” Epp stared with Matthew. “I do know how hard it is to resist, though. She looks like you.”

“She has her mother’s eyes,” Matthew said, and the girl passed through Matthew, who gasped a pitched cry before his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, eyes squeezed shut, his face starting to break into grief. Matthew reached a wobbly hand up and pressed the heel of his palm against one of his eyes.

“How long have you been following her?” Epp asked.

Matthew didn’t answer, only continued to kneel on the sidewalk savoring his pain.

“You know what’s down this path, Matthew.”

“I just wanted to take a quick look,” Matthew argued, still on his knees but becoming bitter at Epp’s interruption.

“Until I’m sure you can stop after one quick look I’m going to have to very,” Epp knelt down and got in Matthew’s face, “very strongly recommend that you stay away entirely. Because it always starts with one look, then it’s one more look, then one more, then just one more. Then next thing you know seventy years have passed and you’re rotting face down on top of her grave because you can’t break away. This is the person you loved enough to become what you are, Matthew. Don’t ever underestimate how much power she wields over you.”

Matthew was clenching his teeth now as tears started to well up, “She’ll be gone someday,” he said, breathing deeply through his nose to clear his head. “I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything. I want to make sure-”

“You want to make sure you remember the choice you made,” Epp said, his voice clipped and hard. “That’s all you need to remember. You belong to the world now, not just to her. You have lessons to learn and work to do.”

Matthew sat down on the curb and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It came over me yesterday. It was…it was unbearable. Just this hollow rotting ache inside of me and I had to see her.”

“Is that the first time the hurt has hit you for no reason?”

Matthew took a deep breath and nodded in reply, fingers rubbing his closed eyes.

“It only gets worse,” Epp said, sitting down next to him. “The most important thing is to always try to remember that it passes. Always.”

Again Matthew breathed deeply through his nose. “I looked in on her yesterday, just for a second. And I couldn’t leave her. The feelings were…it was so strong…it was like a drug or something.”

“Poets have made worse comparisons,” Epp said.

“I didn’t understand what was going on. I mean it was like when I first pushed but worse somehow.”

“I keep telling you, this can get dangerous. And it can get worse.”

“You’re not exactly comforting, are you?”

“It wasn’t me who made you come here, Matthew.”

“Yeah but, it can get worse? How? To see her…living her life without me it’s horrible.”

“The worst thing they can do is move on without you. Imagine it wasn’t your daughter but your wife. And imagine you watched her remarry.”

“You’d think I’d be happy for her but…”

“That’s not how it works.”

“You ever go and see your choices? Visit their graves?”

“Graves?” Epp smiled sadly down at the street. “There hasn’t been a grave over either of my choices in twelve hundred years. One of them has a warehouse over where she was buried. The place reeks of coffee beans at all hours of the day. It’s very strange.”

“So you’ve been back.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I go there to think. Sometimes I go there to remember what it is about these creatures that I loved enough to continue on in this world as a tester.”

“And it’s not dangerous for you?”

“It’s always dangerous,” Epp said, turning to Matthew to make sure he was listening. “But I never make a game out of it or for a second try to fool myself that I’m in control when I’m not. The thing is, I’m not sure we’re meant to never visit with our choices. But for someone in their first year, I think maybe you should take it easy. Two days of watching is more than enough.”

“I just can’t think of anything else to do.”

“Nothing cures like work.”

“You know, I did pass someone yesterday who seemed,” Matthew held up his hands trying to feel for the correct word, “ripe somehow. He was a weird looking guy with a pierced nose.”

“That’s good. You might not be right but you need to slowly start learning how to read the marks that are best for you. You should probably track that down.”

“You aren’t coming with me?”

Epp eased a leg out into the street and ran his hand over his bad knee. He took a deep breath then sighed. “No, I’ve got something I think I need to do.”

“But what if I…I mean I just left my daughter. You trust me not to go catch up with her?”

“You aren’t a child, Matthew, so I will not hold your hand. In the end it’s on you. It is always on you. If you can’t break away now on your own, then you’ll never be able to break away on your own.”

With a ripple Epp disappeared from where he was sitting.

Matthew took one last deep breath, and then stood up. Instantly he was dying to go see his daughter. She was only a block or so away, and maybe she had met up with some friends, maybe he could hear her laughing, if he hurried he could-

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut tight and clenched his teeth so hard the muscles of his face twitched as they flexed. His eyes were rimmed with tears by the time he managed to turn away a minute later. After he wiped them off, he forced himself to focus on the man with the pierced nose. Matthew had a vague idea of where he could find him. He found that if he stood still and listened hard he could hear him walking, it was just a matter of narrowing the direction down and-

“Excuse me.”

Matthew jumped and looked around. He was staring at a large man he had seen before. He couldn’t remember the man’s name but he immediately recognized the mirrored sunglasses.

“Excuse me,” the man said, “but I was told that Epp might be around here somewhere. Did you happen to see him recently?”

“He was just here maybe two minutes ago, but you missed him. He took off. I’m not sure where.”

“Ah,” the man looked displeased by this news. “Well thanks. It’s Matthew, by the way, right?”

“Right and you’re…”

“Hector.”

“Hector. Right. Hector.”

“Do you have Epp’s most recent number?”

Matthew took out his phone and looked at it. “No, sorry. I wasn’t really paying very close attention while he was here. And he just popped in and popped out. I didn’t get a very good grip on him.”

“Okay,” Hector nodded, “well if you see Epp can you give me a call? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Of course.”

Hector disappeared and Matthew went back to trying to locate the man with the pierced nose. “I still think that guy smells like dead leaves, I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” he said to himself.

—–

 

It was eleven at night in Kuala Lumpur.

“Okay,” Mary said, “now just take it easy. Are you feeling tense?” She was wearing a sun dress that rippled against her body as hot, humid air blew over her.

Bartleby nodded, his all black attire contrasting with Mary’s cheerful outfit. “A little. It comes in waves. I’ll feel fine for awhile and then suddenly it’s like my whole chest cavity is boiling.”

“Okay,” Mary said, agreeing with Bartleby. “Okay but for right now you feel okay, right?”

“Yeah. For right now.”

“Okay,” Mary said again, “now, open your eyes, but don’t look down yet. Just open them and stare straight ahead at me.”

Bartleby did as he was told, opened his eyes, saw Mary smiling at him with big eyes. Saw one of the Petronas Towers behind her against the nighttime sky, the globe at the top glowing bright. His eyes wanted to move lower, to look below the globe to the growing rings of shiny steel layers of the spire, each one larger than the one above it until the top floor of the tower was reached. He forced himself to stare only at the lit ball at the top, taking deep breaths, noticing for the first time how hard the wind blew at this height.

“Good,” Mary said encouragingly. “Now look down, but do it slowly,” she said, putting a reassuring hand on Bartleby’s arm.

Bartleby did as she said and let his eyes drift lower, controlling his head so that slowly the entire fifteen hundred foot gap between himself and the earth came into view. He stared down and stayed in control until he felt like the ground was reaching up to pull him down at which point Mary yelped and pulled her hand back as he burst into flames.

Mary ducked around to the other side of the spire, Bartleby’s flaming body reached its arms out and stared up at the nighttime sky and eventually extinguished itself.

Mary came back around to where he was standing, his coat still smoking. “That was so much better,” she said, excited.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Bartleby said, worried about granting himself too much credit but feeling that something real had been accomplished. “And,” he said, his arms smoking more heavily as his excitement began to grow, “heights have got to be my biggest problem. If I can handle myself looking down from here then-” he cut himself off as his right arm burst into flames. “Damn it,” he muttered, walking around the spire again, away from Mary, focusing on cooling his arm off.

“I’m glad you feel this is working,” Mary shouted over to him through the wind, “although I still really don’t understand how you can’t be angry with Epp.”

“It’s complicated,” Bartleby said, getting his arm under control and coming back towards Mary.

“It would have to be,” Mary said once Bartleby was back in earshot.

“Actually, it’s not that complicated, I just don’t think you’d understand.”

“Oh?” Mary asked.

“Well, it’s like how Epp trusted you to save him when he was being attacked in the graveyard.”

Mary’s face fell and her head lowered. “I don’t like to think about that. If I hadn’t hesitated there Epp might not have his limp.”

“Maybe, but the point is, he knew you were ready. He knew what you were capable of.”

“I suppose.”

“And he saw me as capable of making my way back from the farthest place he could put me.”

“There’s no way he could have known that you would make it back from Mercury.”

“No…I mean…I don’t know. I think he knew. I think the fire was a surprise, but I think some part of him knew. With Epp I’m learning that the harder he hits you the more he respects you.”

“So you see all of this as flattering?

“More or less.”

“That is so warped.”

“Excuse me?” someone shouted.

Mary and Bartleby both turned to see a man standing on the other side of the spire. He was looking at Mary. “It’s Mary, right?”

“Yes,” Mary said guardedly.

“We met awhile ago, my name’s Robin.”

“Robin?” Mary said, trying to place the face.

“Look, it’s not important, I’m just trying to find Epp and I was wondering if you knew where he was. I can’t get a hold of him.”

“No, sorry,” Mary said. “I haven’t seen him? Have you?” she asked Bartleby.

“Nope,” Bartleby said, only half listening, already turning to face the other tower and start calming himself down again.

“What’s this about?” Mary asked.

Robin stared at her for a few seconds. “I can’t say.”

“You can’t say? I might see Epp before you find him. If you told me what you wanted I could-”

“Never mind,” Robin said. “Forget it.” And with that, he vanished.

“What was that all about?” Bartleby asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mary said staring at the area Robin had just occupied. She crinkled her nose as she pondered what had just happened and then eventually dismissed it. “Okay,” she said turning back to Bartleby. “You ready to try again?”

Bartleby opened his eyes and slowly began to lower his head to look at the fifteen hundred foot drop. He managed to keep from bursting into flames for an extended period of time, something that occupied both his and Mary’s attention so much they never saw the raven haired woman wearing one leather glove appear behind them, study the air for a few minutes, then disappear.

—–

 

At midnight in Tokyo Kyo was sitting in a sushi bar.  The sushi chef behind the counter was contemplating him with a mix of astonishment and fear. The bar was small, with barely enough room for people to walk behind the seats at the counter and it was still crowded at this late hour with foot traffic from the busy Tokyo street outside constantly refilling any seats that were vacated.

“Now listen to me,” Kyo was saying in Japanese, his thick woven suit was an ugly mustard, “I’m talking about a fermentation process that lasts for months. The fish rests, surrounded by rice under a heavy stone for months.” Kyo’s high cheek boned face and ruddy coloring were intimidating as he stared at the chef.

The other patrons of the sushiya were looking away, embarrassed for this man’s outburst and not wanting to be associated with someone who might offend the itamae.

The chef, for his part, was debating whether to refuse service, although this man had been a regular for longer than he could remember and certainly knew his sushi, his current rant was more than disrespectful and the chef wondered if he had shared too much of his personal bottle of sake. But the man in the ugly suit was so emphatic about what he was saying that it was hard to ignore him, even though to sit there and listen was to imply that an accomplished itamae such as himself was capable of learning anything about his art from a simple customer.

“This is narezushi you’re speaking of.”

“Yes,” Kyo said, holding the itamae with his eyes, not wanting to let anything slip away now that he had him hooked.

“There’s no need to ferment that for months at a time anymore. The vinegar is capable of achieving the same effects in merely a day or two.”

“It is not the same effect,” Kyo said, and the itamae felt the odd notion that this man in the ugly suit was not who he appeared to be. His eyes, his manner, his ability to act in the most impolite way but somehow not come across as anything but the superior in the situation, all of these things always made the hairs on the back of the chef’s neck stand up. Anyone else would have deserved a ban from the sushi bar and would not have been allowed to remain after such insults, but the sushi chef always felt a strange sensation when he talked to this man that settled somewhere deep in the back of his skull and for fleeting moments he would feel as if he were one of the ancient members of his trade in some roadside shack along a muddy road, outdoing his own best to craft perfect pieces of sushi that would feed the local samurai who passed through. The sushi chef enjoyed this feeling immensely, and it was for this reason alone that the man in the ugly suit was allowed to act as he did, not to mention rarely, if ever, pay his bill.

“You want me to make narezushi,” the chef said.

“Yes,” Kyo answered. “Please.” There was true want in this word.

“And you want it made in a manner that has not been used in centuries.”

“Oh very much so,” Kyo said, his voice hungry.

“There is a danger to eating food prepared in that way.”

“Believe me the risk is not a concern to me. The aroma and flavor very much are though. It’s been awhile.”

“I am sure I could locate a specialty establishment where you could-”

Kyo shook his head. “No,” he said quickly. “I want you to be the one to make it. If you would do me that honor I would be in your debt,” and he lowered his head in a quick bow.

The bow was done with such perfect reverence that even the other patrons at the bar forgave the man in the ugly suit, his bow getting across the deep respect he held for the chef far better than his clumsy and oafish words had.

Although, after the sushi chef had backed away in silent contemplation, neither agreeing to this task nor refusing, the patron seated closest to the man in the ugly suit began to think again that sake was more to blame for his antics than anything as the man in the ugly suit began to talk to people who weren’t there.

“What!?” Kyo said with irritation, turning to the man who had been standing by the door during this whole exchange, new customers coming in walking physically through his body. “Speak,” Kyo insisted when the man didn’t say anything.

“I’m Robin,” the man said, “we’ve met before.”

“Don’t remember you,” Kyo said, turning back to his sake.

“It doesn’t matter,” Robin said, remaining in the doorway. “I’m just trying to find Epp.”

“Don’t know where he is,” Kyo said, still not turning back to the door. His phone rang. He pulled it from his suit pocket and stared at the incoming number. “Hector?” he said aloud, puzzled. “What could Hector possibly want?” He pushed a button and silenced the ringer, then went further and turned off his phone before returning it to his jacket. “You know anything about why Hector might want to see me, mystery-man?” Kyo asked, turning back to the doorway.

Nobody was there. Kyo grunted and turned back to the bar, he stared hard at the sushi chef who was preparing a dish for another customer. The man seated next to him did his best to keep his eyes on his own plate and not do anything that might attract attention. Then Kyo whipped back around to the door, chin tucked low to his shoulder, eyes glaring out under angry lids, a man tired of being interrupted during good sushi. “Now what?” he bellowed.

The man seated next to him fumblingly gathered up his plates and bottle of Tsingtao and moved to an empty seat down the bar away from Kyo.

Kyo continued to stare at the twenty something woman in the doorway with the raven dark hair and one leather glove. She didn’t answer, only gaped open mouth at him and laughed a laugh that could be read as amazingly stupid or amazingly indifferent to everyone else’s existence. She held herself off from clapping her hands but she did bounce a little bit in excitement on the balls of her feet as she stared at Kyo. Kyo didn’t move, only continued to stare her down.

“Japanese, huh?” she said, looking at the area around her. “Oh, I just love eating Japanese,” she laughed an open mouthed laugh, more like a guffaw. Her eyes became unfixed as she stared into nothingness and sniffed the air. Then she disappeared. Once she was gone Kyo shook his head and turned back to the bar.

“Apparently all the weirdoes are out tonight,” he grumbled, then he caught the sushi chef’s eye. “Now,” he slurred, all thoughts of Robin and the dark haired woman falling out of his head, “you understand that you have to continuously replenish the water as you press the fish under the stone…”

The sushi chef crossed his arms. The man in the ugly suit was acting stranger than normal, but he would be closing soon and saw no harm in letting him sit and talk some more. As Kyo continued talking the sushi chef stood and listened, and once again the creak of wooden wheels rolling over rutted mud and the caustic laugh of the passing samurai filled his head.

—–

 

It was around five o’clock in Italy, somewhere south of Rome, and the sun was setting on a winter afternoon. Epp was standing on the edge of a highway, the occasional truck rumbled over the pavement behind him. The highway embankment rolled out in front of him and beyond that was an industrial complex, a small office building, a few warehouses. As the wind shifted, the unmistakable smell of coffee beans filled the air.

The aroma on the wind seemed to knock something out of Epp, and leaning heavily on his cane he backed up a step or two and sat against the guardrail.

“This is as close as I’m getting,” he said, staring down at one of the warehouses. A truck went by, swerving close to the guardrail, causing pieces of debris and paper to whip up into the air along the highway. Nothing on Epp’s suit moved. He looked down at the ground between his feet and poked through the gravel with the tip of his cane. “It helps, sometimes, to come talk to you. I hadn’t thought of it but something earlier today made me think to come here.”

He reached a hand up and ran it down the back of his neck. His lower lip stuck out. His eyes staring out at nothing in particular. Every part of him looking like a man at a loss for what to do next. “I miss you more than you’ll ever know, that much is certain now. Two thousand years and the power of a god and there’s no end to how much I’d give up to be able to talk through some of my problems with you. You were always so good at helping me notice what I was thinking too hard to see.”

Epp cleared his throat.

“Like my mentor. I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently,” he lifted his head and began speaking in a more conversational tone. “About how she retired. About where she went. She said I’d understand when the time came what it entailed to leave this existence, and she said she was ready to go, but…I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about her. I wonder what went through her head before she left. I wonder what it’s like. I wonder how you know. Every time I get a new thought nowadays some part of me wonders if this isn’t it. If this isn’t the first sign. Every time something that once was exciting now seems old I wonder if that doesn’t mean it’s time to think about leaving. Every time I push myself into a new situation to see what I can learn, I wonder if the lesson I’ll be learning is how to finally let go.”

A car driving past blasting its stereo broke up his thoughts with a warbling bass line. Then it was past, the sound of its engine disappearing down the highway. Epp shifted on the guard rail, wincing as he moved his leg. “I don’t know. I’m just so tired.” He sat in silence and stared out over the warehouse.

Behind Epp on the other side of the highway a snow dotted field slowly rose into a tree covered hill. In the midst of empty branches and fallen leaves the form of Robin wavered in the afternoon light and solidified into existence.

He looked around, unclear of his surroundings, slowly taking everything in. His eyes squinted into the distance and he finally spotted Epp. The highway was a ribbon in the distance, Epp himself was barely a different colored spot against the black of the pavement. Robin began to move, walking through the bare trees, feet shuffling against brown, dead leaves.

He heard something behind him, a rustling in the underbrush, and without looking back he took off in a full sprint, feet snapping through dead branches as his body began to hurtle out of control down the hill, but even then he heard the noise behind him growing louder and closer and he knew he was lost. He drew in a breath and was about to scream as loud as he could, a feeble gesture considering the tiny point of color in the distance that was Epp, but before he could even do that Nyx hurtled into him at an angle and the two crashed down the slope, trees snapping at their trunks as they fell. When they came to a stop, Robin was pinned underneath Nyx as she sat straddling his back. Her ungloved hand was pinned against his mouth and although he was flailing and struggling with the energy of someone in terror, every part of his body in contact with Nyx might as well have been in contact with solid granite. No motion from him caused any part of her to waver. Even when she let go with one hand to place a call on her cell phone his entire body writhing underneath her made no impression.

Nyx held her phone to her face. “Hector,” she said, “I’ve got him.” She looked down through the trees towards the highway as she listened. “No, it was close but it could have been closer. He was still a good quarter of a mile away from Epp at least. No,” she said, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable trying to move him to a graveyard.” Robin’s muffled yells were growing louder and her eyes squinted as she tried to listen, then she shook her head and interrupted Hector. “Hang on a second,” she said, and she took the phone from her ear and stared down angrily at Robin struggling beneath her. “Will you please keep it down?” she insisted. Robin’s cheeks puffed with air as he tried to scream under her hand. Her eyebrows lowered and she went back to the phone.

“Yeah,” she said. “Oh yeah? Okay!” She was excited by what she had heard, her body regaining some of its bounce as she clicked the phone shut and put it back in her pocket.

Nyx leaned her head forward and pressed her chest against Robin’s back, then she turned and gave him a quick kiss on his temple. “Hector says I get to keep you,” she said. She smiled. The hand that wasn’t around Robin’s mouth rested gently on his back, up by his shoulders. Then it began to sink into his body. Robin’s head tried frantically to break free and his eyes began to bulge with his efforts to scream. Nyx opened her mouth and leaned in towards the back of his skull, little white teeth pressing against his scalp. There was a thick cracking sound, like someone was biting into a very crisp apple.

A few minutes later a truck downshifting brought Nyx out of a happy half-doze. The area of the woods around where she lay was spattered for some distance with blood. No other trace of Robin existed. She stood up and stretched, then looked back down at the highway and stared at the tiny dot that was Epp. She shook her head, then slowly began to waver, then disappeared.

A quarter of a mile away Epp shifted his weight off of his bad leg and stared down at the warehouse.

“I guess what I’m saying is…everything is becoming the same. After two thousand years,” he paused and looked up at the darkening sky, “I’m starting to wonder if I’m needed in this world anymore.”

He sat back, silent, eventually becoming lost in thought. Another truck rumbled by, its engine growled loudly as the driver downshifted, and all around the winter light of the Italian afternoon slowly faded into the bruised purple of twilight.

—–

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