Reckoning (7 page)

E
laine’s expression darkens to match m
y
own. “What? No. How?”

“He drowned,” I say. “While we were on vacation.”

“Drowned? That doesn’t make sense. He was a competitive swimmer. He’s been around water his whole life. He couldn’t have drowned.” Elaine speaks all of my doubts.

“The coroner confirmed it,” I lie. “Accidental drowning they said.”

Memories of Josh’s murder simmer below the surface of my thoughts. My emotions stir into a tempest. The kitchen lights flicker in response to the storm inside me.

Quickly I attempt to calm my fractured thoughts. I take a deep breath. And another. The lights no longer flicker.

Elaine continues to ask questions about Josh. Her words blur and the power surges again.

Elaine notices. “Looks like you’ve got a wiring problem,” she says, distracted by the lights. “I know someone who can take a look at things. Make sure there’s nothing wrong.”

Doubtful. No one can fix this problem.

“No, it’s okay,” I say. I lock my feelings behind a mask, unwilling to share more than I already have—even with her. “It’s probably just a power surge.” I calm my mind further.

“Okay, but let me know if you change your mind.”

Her eyes say everything. I draw from her strength and keep my feelings in check.

“Let’s get pizza and just veg. Like we always did when life just sucked.”

“That sounds good,” I say, my voice hollow. “I’m starving.” In truth, I feel nothing.

The pizza comes and Elaine and I settle in the living room with junk food and a romcom—just like old times.

“So,” I say trying to sound normal, “fill me in on the happenings around Cambria. Any new gossip to share?”

“In Cambria? Are you serious? I think you’ve forgotten that nothing ever happens here.” Elaine laughs, a feeble attempt to lighten the mood and distract my thoughts away from Josh.

“What did everyone do after graduation?” I ask, playing along. “Anyone stick around here besides you?”

“Well, Gabe is around most of the time. He comes into the diner and asks about you. I think he’s lonely.”

“I call that karma. He should have thought about that before he started messing around with everyone.”

“Right? And Jamie—you remember her from chemistry?—well she dropped out of college. Drug addiction problem.”

“Wow. She doesn’t seem the type.”

Elaine continues to rattle off the latest headlines from Cambria. Uneventful by most accounts, but it makes me feel at home. Everything about the night screams “normal”—Elaine and me eating pizza, too much gossip about our friends, deep conversations about life. Even the pain of losing Josh dulls and retreats into a small corner of my thoughts. Tonight fills a need I can’t express. Why did I ever want to escape this life?

We talk for hours. Elaine fills me in about college, her job at the diner and her parents’ never-ending involvement in her life.

“I met someone,” she says as she grabs another slice of pizza. “At school. His name is Mark. He’s studying electrical engineering at Cal Poly.”

“How did you guys meet?”

“Freshman English. We started talking about an assignment and the next thing I knew we were dating. He’s a great guy. And cute. I think you’d like him. Total comic nerd.”

I smile as she tells me more about Mark: their many dates, her feelings for him, their plans for the future. I’ve never seen her so happy. My mind rushes to David. I was happy with him, too. If only—

I cut off the thought before it can form and focus my attention back to Elaine. “When do I get to meet him?” I ask before I consider the dangers.

“Soon. We’ll go out for dinner or something.”

“I’d like that.” It’s not a lie. It’s also not smart.

Or safe.

“Your turn to spill,” Elaine says. “What happened to you? And where are your parents now? Are they coming back soon?”

The questions overwhelm me. I want to tell her everything. Explain just how messed up my life has become, what really happened to Josh and why I’m home. I want to talk about David, his promise, why I left. But I can’t say anything.

“Dakota?”

“Um...sorry. I was just thinking. I like hearing about your life. You seem really happy.”

“I am. But stop changing the subject. What happened to you? Where did you go after the cops took you away?”

“It’s nothing. I went to the hospital for a few days and then we went to visit family on the East Coast.”

“You know I can always tell when you’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?” Elaine glares at me. If I didn’t know better I’d think she was trying to read my thoughts.

“Josh died on the East Coast.” The words slip out before I stop them. Tears again fill my eyes.

“How long has it been?” Elaine asks as she grabs my hand.

“A few months. It feels like yesterday, though.”

“I’m sure. You guys were really close. Is that why your parents aren’t back yet? Is it too hard for them?”

I don’t want to lie to my best friend, but there is no way I can tell her
this
truth. “I guess,” is my only response. “Hey, do you want to stay over? I’ve always hated staying here alone. I could really use the company.”

“Sure,” she says.

I push a silent “thank you” into her thoughts as she starts another movie.

Morning erupts with the sound of my screams as “David!” pushes past my lips. My pulse roars in my ears. I sit up and blink away the remnants of the dream.  My breathing slowly returns to something that resembles normal as I stretch the kinks out of my neck and shoulders. Sleeping on the couch has never equated with comfort.

“Are you okay?” Elaine runs to my side. “You were screaming. Something you want to tell me?” A suspicious glint flickers in her eyes and I know there is no way I am getting out of this conversation.

“It was just a dream.”

“I worked that much out myself,” she says. “A dream about ‘David’. I have a feeling there are things you left out about your time away.” Elaine sits next to me on the couch. “Come on, dish. I want to hear everything.”

The truth is, I’d love to talk to Elaine about David. She’ll understand my feelings, why I can’t stop thinking about him, why I had to leave. But a conversation about him means a conversation about me. And that isn’t possible.

“I don’t know what to say. I still dream about him sometimes.”

“That didn’t sound like a lovesick dream. You sounded worried. Like you needed him. Like there was more between the two of you.”

A smile forms before I can prevent it.

“I knew it!” Elaine shoves me playfully. “What’s going on? Did you two hook up again?”

“He moved to the East Coast. He helped me through Josh’s death. That’s all.” Not a complete lie.

“He helped you? How did he know about it?” Elaine never misses anything.

“He and Josh stayed in touch. David was at the funeral. We spent some time together afterward.”

Elaine watches me as I speak. Again it feels like she wants access to my thoughts. “And? Are you guys seeing each other now?”

“No. It’s not like we live in the same place.”

“You could move. Go to school where he is or something.”

Memories of David and Josh fray my already fragile nerves. I grab hold of my emotions before they slip away from me. “Maybe one day,” I say as I wrestle with my mind. “Maybe.”

Elaine is relentless. “You should call him. You clearly want to based on that dream.”

Unheard sounds pull at my attention. In my thoughts, I see a hooded figure walking up the steps. My senses heighten with the threat. Without thinking, I respond and squeeze the would-be assailant’s neck, attack his mind.

A scream filters through the front door. Elaine jumps to her feet. Yells.

“Mark!” She runs down the steps as I walk to the door, my focus unwavering. “Mark,” she says again.

Elaine shifts her gaze from him to me and back. “Help me. Something’s wrong with him.”

The frantic tones in her voice bring me back. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, releasing my strangle hold on him. “I’m so sorry.” I run down the porch stairs and help Elaine carry her boyfriend into the house.

He sits on the couch and watches me, wary. “You,” he says as he meets my gaze. “You did that. Why?”

My brow furrows. How can he know anything about what I’ve done?

“No,” Elaine says. Her attention wanders between us. “She was trying to help you. You’re confused.”

“I don’t think so,” Mark says.

I take in the image of him and carefully touch his thoughts. Olive skin. Dark brown hair shaved close to his scalp. Dark eyes that give nothing away. Jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. There is nothing that stands out, nothing familiar or threatening in his appearance or his mind.

“Ask her,” he says to Elaine. “Ask her what she just did.”

Elaine turns to me. “Dakota? What is he talking about?”

S
even drew in a deep breath. A heady
scent of flowers mixed with ocean air filled his senses. The sun beat down, warming his skin. People, an obvious combination of tourists and residents, walked down the narrow streets of Lahaina. The Creator had said Dakota would be here. This was where the assassins came. This is where she killed them all.

Seven moved past the gift shops, tourist haunts, and restaurants until he reached the coffee shop. He walked inside, removing his sunglasses to scrutinize the room. Everything appeared exactly as it had in his thoughts. Same tall windows lined the back of the restaurant. Same cramped tables. Same dim lighting fed mostly by the sunlight. He walked to the back row of tables. In his mind’s eye he could see the Assassin sitting with the Samurai. The Creator had said they were lovers. Destined to be together from the beginning. Based on the images playing out in his thoughts, Seven knew it was true. He watched as the two exchanged intimate glances and stolen embraces in the echoes of the past.

The scene continued to unfold around him. Gunmen at the front of the shop. Bullets whizzing past as people screamed and ducked out of the way. He watched the couple drop to the floor and crawl to their escape. He heard the gunmen scream as they fired on themselves. New emotions bloomed across his chest as the scene ended. Pain, outrage, fury. He would never trust the Assassin. She was a threat to the Creator, no matter what he said.

Have you found her?
The Creator’s voice filled the recesses of Seven’s mind.

Not yet.

New images filled Seven’s thoughts. The Assassin threatening the Creator. The Architect dying at the Assassin’s hand. The compound consumed by the fire the Assassin ignited. Each picture intensified Seven’s hatred, fueled his rage.

Find her now. Watch her. Report to me.

Yes, Master.
Seven embraced his orders and left the small restaurant.

He centered his thoughts and focused on the subtle remnants of the Assassin’s presence. He turned away from the small hub of restaurants and walked up a slight path. Businesses began to fall away, replaced by too-small houses and large fields of pineapple and sugar cane. Seven continued to walk pulled by an invisible thread connecting him to the Assassin.

I will find her, Master.

Of course you will.

Seven considered the task ahead. The Creator wanted the Assassin found, that much was certain. What Seven didn’t know was what the Creator planned afterward. He doubted his master would order her death.

Seven stewed. He wanted the Assassin to pay for everything she had done. He needed her to pay for killing his mentor, the Architect, not to mention burning down his home and threatening the only person he’d ever considered family. Seven wanted the Assassin dead. He
needed
her dead.

Seven replayed the Creator’s orders, saw again his master’s admiration for the Assassin. Her skills were not needed. He could give his master complete fealty. He could provide the skills his master sought. Him. Not the Assassin. There was no reason to allow her to live.

And yet, the Creator wanted it. The Creator was willing to endure the wrath of the Order to ensure it.

Why?

Seven pushed the doubt from his thoughts and focused only on his mission. Within moments fresh images of the Samurai and the Assassin flooded into his mind.
Found you,
he said  to himself. He turned toward the mountains and began walking up the lonely path.

Seven climbed the steep rocky path that led from the beach toward the mountains. With each step, he could feel the Assassin. Images of her solidified in his thoughts. He could taste her fear, her doubt.
Weak, she’s nothing but weak.
The knowledge fed his frustration. Why did his master continue to insist that she was vital? The more he thought about it, the more he understood the Order’s distrust of the Creator. And the more he embraced their order to kill her himself.

He reached the top of the path. A small cottage lay in the distance, surrounded by a variety of tall plants and vines. Seven scanned the horizon with his eyes and his mind. Nothing. He walked to the house, his focus sharp. The front door of the house opened and two large men, Hawaiians by the look of them, descended the stairs. Seven slowed and leaned into the heavy vegetation, his gazed fixed on the two men.

They talked in heavy voices, smiling as they circled around the small house and up a dirt path toward the road. Seven remained hidden. No point in unnecessary killing. That only led to complications. As soon as the Hawaiians were out of view, Seven ascended the stairs of the tiny house. The door was slightly ajar. He nudged it open and walked inside.

A sharp scent of bleach assaulted his senses. Seven wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore the harsh smell. The house was comprised of only two rooms—a common living area and a bedroom. He moved quickly through the space, trying to pick up the Assassin’s presence. Nothing. The place was clean in every sense. Nothing of the Assassin or the Samurai remained, physical or otherwise.

Seven paced. He knew this was where they were, he had felt them on the beach and along the path. “Where are you?” he asked no one.

The door to the house opened and the two men filled the doorway.

“What you doin’ here, brah?” the larger of the men asked. “Haoles not welcome here.”

Seven faced the men. “I’m looking for a friend. She said she lived here.” Seven clenched his jaw and waited.

The men poured into the cramped space and circled Seven.

“No, no one livin’ here now.” The larger man took a step toward Seven.

Seven nodded and smiled. He slammed into the men’s thoughts and filled them with images drawn from their nightmares. Murder and rape. The pictures streamed in rapid succession in their minds. They both took a step back, looks of shock etched on their faces.

“You should’ve just told me what I needed to know. It would’ve been so much easier.” Seven pictured the men falling to their deaths. Imagined their eyes bulging as their carotid arteries closed and their lungs collapsed.

In moments both men fell to the ground with a heavy thud, shock and horror still painted on their faces.

“Too easy,” Seven mumbled as he stepped over one of the men and fled the house.

He walked down the rocky path to the beach, clinging to the faint sense of the Assassin. “Where did you go?” Seven whispered to the memory echo of the elusive girl. “Where can I find you?”

Is she found?
The Creator’s words chased away the fading presence.

No, my master. Only a piece of her memories.

Rage, not his, bloomed in Seven’s chest and radiated upward to his mind. Rage and fear. He knew the Creator was disappointed. Angry. He had to figure out a way to find the girl.

Let’s hope it wasn’t a mistake to trust you with this mission.

Seven inhaled the threat in his Master’s words.

I trust you will know where she is when I return.

Yes, Master.
Seven felt the rage subside, replaced by profound shame.

His Master was disappointed. This could not happen again.

Seven hated being on an airplane. Something about the number of people, the incessant noise of their thoughts unnerved him. He stared out the window, unable to see anything below the thick cloud deck. A crumbled picture balled in his hands. He smoothed it open and memorized every detail of the Google Earth image: the house at the top of a twisted road, the porch that wrapped around three sides of the two-story structure, and the pines that surrounded the back of the house. He was taking a risk going to Cambria. But something in his memories knew this was his best shot at finding the Assassin.

Seven looked forward and closed his eyes. Darkness gave way to images of training sessions with the Architect. She had taught Seven how to see strategy, to anticipate his opponent’s moves. They’d played chess, sparred, and developed worst-case scenarios together. Seven’s heart clenched as her image came to life in his mind. Although he hadn’t worked with her often, she was his mentor. Family. Her death had been hard. Anger mixed with sadness as Seven focused back on his memory:

“Chess?” the Architect asked in his thoughts.

“Sure. But first, I have questions for you. How are you supposed to find the Assassin? No one knows where she could be.”

The Architect smiled. “I find it’s the details that give people away. In this case, the Assassin’s mother.”

“You know her?”

“Yes. She trained with us, all of us.”

“What did she say?”

Seven smiled at the memory of his eagerness.

“She said she always wanted to live in Central California. In a small coastal town.”

“So you’ll start there?”

“Yes.”

The memory faded quickly and Seven opened his eyes. Cambria was where the Assassin had spent part of her childhood. It was her home. And exactly where she’d go to feel safe. He took another glance at the Google Earth image before ripping it into shreds.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered to the thick plexiglass of the airplane’s window. “You won’t escape me this time.”

The plane landed and Seven retrieved a car and map to the small coastal town, his fake ID proving more than a little valuable. The sun sat low on the horizon, casting the sky in shades of crimson washed with purple and orange. He sped along the twisted highway, barely aware of the beautiful ocean in the distance or the changing colors of the sunset. Each curve of the road dredged up memories from somewhere deep. Seven had never been to the West coast. At least, he didn’t think he had. But as he drove the several hours between San Jose and Cambria, he began to wonder.

More turns. More echoes of memories long forgotten. Emotions swirled as Seven reached for the thoughts. It was no use, whatever Seven thought he remembered was lost the minute he reached for it. Frustrated, he turned off the emotional side of his mind and returned his focus to his mission.

The road into town was sparsely populated. He stretched out his mind, searching through the scant noise for anything that could lead him to
her
. Snippets of conversations filtered past. None of them are useful, nothing to indicate that the Assassin was home.