A Knight Of The Word

“Do I?” He fought down his disgust. “Is that why you killed Ariel and Boot and Audrey? Because they didn’t serve any real purpose either? Is that why you tried to kill Nest? That didn’t work out so well, did it? But you were quick to cover up, I’ll give you that. Burning down Fresh Start, that was a nice touch. I assumed at first that you burned it down just to undermine its programs. But you did it to hide the truth about what happened in Lincoln Park. You marked yourself up pretty good going after Nest, smashing down doors and hurtling through windows. You couldn’t hide that kind of damage. So you killed two birds with one stone. You’d drugged me earlier so I wouldn’t be able to meet Nest. When you woke me, after you’d set fire to Fresh Start, you did so in the dark so I couldn’t see your face, and while I was still barely coherent, you ran on ahead on the pretext of waking the women and children sleeping on the upper floors on the building, thereby providing yourself with a perfect excuse for the cuts and bruises on your face and hands.”


His laugh was brittle. “It’s funny, but Nest figured that out, too. When she came looking for me, she stopped by Pass/Go, and Della told her she looked just like you. Nest got the connection immediately. She knew what it meant.”

She leaned forward. “John, will you listen...?”

But he was all done listening, and he pushed relentlessly on. “So you set me up with this story about Simon firing me, and you quitting, and how strangely he’s been acting, and how every time something bad happens, he’s among the missing, and I’m just like a loaded gun ready to go off I take the bus down to the museum, which you know I’ll do, and it takes me a while because I don’t walk very well with my bad leg, and you catch a cab, and there you are, waiting, disguised as Simon, ready to point me in the right direction.”

He was so angry now he could barely contain himself, but his voice stayed cool and detached. “I really hate you, Stef I hate you so much I can’t find the wards to express it!”

She studied him a moment, her perfect features composed in thoughtful consideration, and then she shook her head at him. “You don’t hate me, John. You love me. You always will.”

His shock at hearing her say it left him momentarily speechless. He had not expected her to be so perceptive. She was right of course. He loved her desperately, even now, even knowing what she was.

“You aren’t as honest with yourself as You think,” she Continued calmly, her dark eyes locking on his own. “You don’t want any of this to be so, but even knowing it is, you can’t get around how you feel. Is that so bad? If you want me, I’m still yours. I still want you, John. I still love you. Think about what you’re doing. If you give me up, you become the thing you fought so hard to escape being. You become a Knight of the Word again. You give up everything you’ve found this past year with me. You go back to being solitary and lonely and rootless. You become like the homeless you’ve spent so much time trying to help.”

She rose, a smooth, lazy motion, and he tensed in response, remembering how strong she was, what she was capable of doing. But she didn’t try to approach him. “With me, you have everything that’s made you happy these past twelve months. I can be all the things I’ve been to you from the beginning. Are you worried you might see me another way? Don’t be. You never will. I’ll be for you just what you want. I’ve made you happy. You can’t pretend I haven’t”

He smiled at her, suddenly sad beyond anything he had ever known. “You’re right,” he acknowledged softly, and all the rage seemed to dissipate. “You have made me happy. But none of it was real, was it, Stef? It was all a sham. I don’t think I want to go back to that.”

“Do you think other people live any differently than we do,” she pressed. She took a step away from the couch, then another, moving out of the circle of lamplight, edging into the shadows beyond. Ross watched, saying nothing. “Everyone keeps secrets. No one reveals everything. Even to a lover.” He winced at the words, but she didn’t seem to notice. She brushed back her hair, seemingly distracted by something behind him. He kept his eyes on her. “We can do the same,” she said. “You won’t ever find anyone else who feels about you the way I do.”

The irony of that last statement must have escaped her entirely, he thought. “How you feel about me is rooted mostly in the ways you hope to use me, Stef.”

He was moving with her now, a step and then two, a slow circling dance, a positioning for advantage.

“You can make your own choices about everything, John,” she said. “I won’t interfere. Just let me do the same. That’s all I require.”

His laugh was brittle. “Is that all it would take to make you happy, Stef? For me to ignore what you are? For me to let you go on feeding on humans? For me to pretend I don’t care that you won’t ever stop trying to turn the Word’s magic to uses it was never intended for?” She was shaking her head violently in denial. “Just forget about the past? Forget about Boot and Audrey and Ariel and Ray Hapgood and several dozen homeless people? Forget about everything that’s gone before? Would that do the trick?”

He saw a glimmer of something dark and wicked come into her eyes. He took a step toward her. “You crossed the line a long time ago, and it’s way too late for you to come back. More to the point, I don’t intend to let you try.”

She was silhouetted against the bay window that looked down on Waterfall Pack, her slender body gone suddenly still. Outside, feeders were pressed against the glass, yellow eyes gleaming.

There was a subtle shift in her features. “Maybe you can’t stop me, John.”

He straightened, clasping the staff in both hands, the magic racing up and dawn its length in slender silver threads.