Chapter #98Recoil by: Seuzz   You curse as you feel a shattering, burning blow to your pelvis. The world goes gray. The Moon appears. Imagos swirl before you.
But all the pain has vanished, and you are very calm. Shit, you sigh. Is it really gonna be as easy as that? You remove Nate Shabbleman's imago and pull on Will Prescott's. The world reappears.
You blink in surprise at the pain, and for a panicked moment think you've miscalculated. But it's a pain in your jaw. Fuck, it's like Joe just punched you in the mouth a minute ago.
Which, as far as this appearance goes, is just what happened.
Everything else seems to be okay. Joe has the pistol, and is looking at you with a wild expression. Shabbleman is also looking at you, pop-eyed. "So I guess I'm back," you say. "Now will you two settle the fuck down?" You wish there was more authority in your voice; you just sound peevish.
"Are you okay?" Joe gasps.
"I'm fine. Except for this busted lip. Nate Shabbleman's probably not going to be okay, but we can worry about that later."
Will Shabbleman's knees buckle, and he falls to the floor. "I'm dead," he says quietly. "It would be a kindness if you--"
"No one's shooting anyone," you snap. "Get rid of the piece, Joe. If the neighbors call the cops--"
"Stop ordering me around, Prescott," he yells.
"Then stop being a dick!" You shift to glare at Shabbleman. "Listen, I don't know what's going to happen to you, but you don't have to worry about Frank. We got that anima thing off him. It's all back to normal."
He looks between you and Joe, and his head sinks. "I am still dead."
"Well, maybe things will look brighter for you in the morning," you say. He flinches as you reach for his face. "I'm just going to put you to sleep again," you tell him. His expression falls, but he suffers to let you take the mask off. His clothes are already ripped and disheveled from the earlier transformation, and he just sinks backward onto the floor. "How long should I knock him out for?" you ask Joe.
"What are you talking about?" Joe asks. His face is flushed, and his eyes filmy.
"Hal Swann," you reply. "I met him in England and he taught me a few more tricks. I can put him to sleep for as long as we need. Hours, days even. Maybe years."
Joe's cheek twitches. "Fuck. You have been-- Okay, we're gonna have to transport him to Olympia. Knock him out for a week if you can."
You oblige, and then put the mask back on him. "Are you okay, Joe?"
"Fuck you!" Then he takes a deep breath. "I will be okay," he growls. "I'm just exhausted."
"So am I, Joe, now that you mention it. But at least I'm not--"
"Morning, Prescott. Save it for the morning." He suddenly seems to notice the gun in his hand. He empties it of all the bullets, and stalks back into his bedroom.
You wait up a bit longer, in case the police do show up, and after an hour go to bed yourself.
* * * * *
You wake with a start, and fall back with a groan. You're going to be late for school if you don't get a move on. Did you get your homework done?
You snort hard, blink the sleep away, and grab at the clock. It's nine-thirty. You wonder what you'll find out in the house.
You kick away Nate Shabbleman's discarded things and pull on some over-large pajamas--Frank's, by the size of them--and shuffle into the dining room. Rick and Joe are at the table, each with a mug of coffee; Rick has a small bottle of bourbon next to his. "Morning, squirt," he says.
You grunt back, and fill a mug of your own before joining them. They are silent as you drop down heavily at the table. "So, who wants to yell at me first," you ask. "Could you wait till I'm awake, though?" You slurp some coffee down.
"No yelling, squirt. That can wait till we're home. Kid's caught me up on what happened here after we dropped you off."
"Where's Miko and Rosalie?"
"Back at the motel. They'll spend the day together. They made a connection last night."
"Yeah?" You're not sure you heard right.
"Yeah. Talk about asshole boys and all that."
Joe winces.
Rick sighs. "I'll yell at you after I hear your report. For now I'll say it's a landing we can all walk away from, which is the minimum."
"I cocked up my assignment here too, Rick. Getting Joe's imago."
"Kid already told me about that. You can tell me in your own words later. Right now, I'm gonna go read a magazine in the bathroom. You two can talk." He gets up.
You swallow down some more coffee, and avoid Joe's face. "I'm sorry I got pissy with you last night," you say.
"No, it was my fault," he says, but doesn't look you in the eye. "I'm sorry."
"I guess we were both tired, stressed out."
"We were a good team when we were in the thick of it," he says. "I don't care what Rick's gonna tell us, we were good."
"You were good, Joe. You knew how to--"
"I wouldn't have known to do it if you hadn't been smart enough to tell me. Right in front of them, too. Even after--" He runs his finger around the rim of his mug. "Well, I can't wait to work with you again."
"Will you let me? You know, you tried sending me away--"
"It was for your own safety, Prescott," he snaps, and some of last night's belligerence reappears. "I could've got out of it, you know. I was out of it, when you showed up. I only stayed to rescue you."
You had the opposite impression, at least until you found yourself in that chair, but you pretend to see his side. "Thanks. I wish I'd been good enough that I didn't need rescuing--"
"Damn straight!" he yells. "I pulled it off, saved your ass! So when that fat fucker shot you last night--" He catches himself. "Aw, fuck me, Prescott, you don't want to work with me." He leaps to his feet and strides into the kitchen. "Only reason Frank puts up with me is because Dad always puts us together. I hate it when he has to save me. Hate it!" He pushes at the countertop, lifting himself into the air. "I hate it when there's someone else along, acting like my fucking babysitter. But I like having a partner." He does a couple of quasi-pushups before dropping back to the floor. "I like having a straight man."
"I can play lots of parts, Joe."
He smiles mirthlessly. "Sure, treat it like a joke." He folds his arms and stares at the floor. "Well, anyway. I'm sorry for being pissed last night. But it's hard to find Stellae. They're rare. I was really proud that Frank and me found you. And then I found Rosalie. Wow! Made me fit to bust my buttons. So when he shot you last night--"
You can't believe what he's saying. "You thought they were going to take away your medal?"
"Fuck you! That's not what I'm--! I really do like you, Prescott." But he glowers in a way that seems to belie his words.
"You like everyone, Joe. Even Blackwell has his points."
He colors hard, and smashes the countertop with his fist. "Fuck--! Me! But I don't care about him! Throw him in a crocodile pit, let 'em eat and shit him onto the river bottom. I won't miss him. But I responsible for my friends and my colleagues. You understand that, Prescott? Will? Shit, what the fuck am I supposed to call you?"
"I like 'Will'. I'm used to it."
"Well, I care about you, Will. I helped find you, and I care about you, so now I feel like I'm responsible for you. That's how come it scared me shitless last night when--"
Oh. Is that what it's about? "You also found Rosalie," you say.
He turns very quiet.
"Do you feel responsible for her? Do you care about her?"
"Sure."
"You don't sound like you mean it."
He looks at you. It's a carefully composed look, a grave but neutral look, the look of a guy who's going to tell you one thing and one thing only, and leave you to draw conclusions.
"There's a difference, Will. You didn't double-cross me, and you actually saved me back when we first met. And I wasn't the one who went in and saved her."
That's all that gets said, and you're both still silent when Rick reappears a few minutes later. "You need some lighter reading material, kid. I like to relax when I'm on the pot." Neither you nor Joe respond. "So I made some phone calls. Frank'll be back tomorrow, to take Dr. Bombay and the girl out to Olympia. Miko will ride along with them."
"What'll I do?" Joe asks.
"Stay here, sort through those books, have some more parties."
Joe makes a face.
"And me?" you ask.
"We'll fly back to LA this afternoon. You're gonna have to buckle down and do some hard work for Kali. She's been spending a ton on airfare thanks to you."
* * * * *
He leaves a little later, to run some errands. You talk a little more with Joe. "There's one more thing," you say after you've talked about the Cuthbert adventure, comparing viewpoints. "I don't know if I should tell you or leave it to Rosalie--"
"You tell me," he says. "I don't think we're going to have much to say to each other."
"When you introduced us, you said you hoped we'd be friends. I'd like it if you two were."
"We will be," he says. "We'll be good friends. Colleagues." There's no stiffness to his tone, but no warmth either.
"Well, Will Shabbleman was her 'betrothed'."
"Interesting," he says after a pause. "That explains a lot."
That's all you say on the subject of Rosalie. You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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