him, he would call his security, if he didn’t just get a burner and try to kill me. The alternative was I killed him, but every sense rebelled at the idea. I couldn’t kill Javier, even if he’d gone insane.
I transferred both his hands to one of mine. Easier said than done, while he squirmed and fought, but I was bigger, and I was much stronger than I’d been when I’d last seen him. With one hand, I unclipped my broom. There are ways to hit a man that won’t kill him. I’d have to try really hard for one of those, as out of practice as I was.
As the broom hit him, I thought nothing had happened. He opened his mouth as though to scream, and I let go of his hands to clamp my hand over his mouth. But then he convulsed and went still. Was he dead? I couldn’t stop to see. I was in danger. Someone could come in any minute, and how would I explain this?
I grabbed my broom, went to the terrace, and took off. I was well away from the island when I realized I should have called for help. After all, I was now a Good Man. Who would try to stop me, if I said Javier had had a stroke, or something.
But then, when Javier woke up he would accuse me of . . . what? Being impossible to kill? Javier had tried to kill me? I felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under my feet. I might not have trusted him as implicitly and as wordlessly as I trusted Hans, but I had trusted him nonetheless.
What insane world had I escaped to? Perhaps it would have been better if I had drowned in my jail cell after all.
The World Turned Upside Down
Some instinct, some feeling, prevented me going home at once. No, I don’t know what except thinking that Javier might have woken up, and if he woke up, he would try to send people to intercept me on the way to Olympus. He would assume I would return there, right?
So instead, I took a detour, and went to Liberte Seacity, where I landed on a deserted beach.
I’d had some time to think, and thought the best thing I could do was to talk to some of my other old friends. Perhaps they could explain what was happening, and perhaps they could tell me what had happened to Javier and why he spoke that way. Perhaps it was a stroke, I thought. In which case, my hitting him on the head could have done no good at all. But I didn’t see how I could have got around it. I couldn’t even find the stuff I needed to bind him, could I? There hadn’t been anything I could use nearby. And to let go of him and go in search of it, I’d have needed to knock him out first, anyway.
No, I’d done the only thing I could, even if the violence of it bothered me. I didn’t want to fight and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. There had been enough of that, and anything that required me to do more of it, made me feel tired and old. Very old.
So I landed and took the portable links out. One of them had a series of programmed numbers, but I recognized none of them, so I took the other and dialed another of the Hellions—Josia Bruno, from New Verona Seacity. It took a while for him to answer because, I supposed that was his private number, and he was the Good Man, now. The face I got, floating midair, looked like Josia well enough. I’d chosen a deserted beach well, because landing in a broom was not strictly legal, but also so I could have sight as well as sound. But he didn’t look like he recognized me at all. Which I couldn’t blame him for, I supposed. I wouldn’t have recognized myself either. “Jos?” I said. “It’s Lucius.”
“It’s who?” he said.
“Lucius Keeva,” I said.
He blinked. “You mean . . .” he said. And then frowned. “Dante?”
Don’t ask me to explain it, please, but his expressions were all wrong. And what he said was all wrong. I pressed the phone off and took a deep breath.
Perhaps I was the one who had gone crazy. Perhaps I had gone completely around the bend and just hadn’t realized it. Perhaps . . .
On a whim, on a desperate moment of insanity, I dialed Hans’s
I transferred both his hands to one of mine. Easier said than done, while he squirmed and fought, but I was bigger, and I was much stronger than I’d been when I’d last seen him. With one hand, I unclipped my broom. There are ways to hit a man that won’t kill him. I’d have to try really hard for one of those, as out of practice as I was.
As the broom hit him, I thought nothing had happened. He opened his mouth as though to scream, and I let go of his hands to clamp my hand over his mouth. But then he convulsed and went still. Was he dead? I couldn’t stop to see. I was in danger. Someone could come in any minute, and how would I explain this?
I grabbed my broom, went to the terrace, and took off. I was well away from the island when I realized I should have called for help. After all, I was now a Good Man. Who would try to stop me, if I said Javier had had a stroke, or something.
But then, when Javier woke up he would accuse me of . . . what? Being impossible to kill? Javier had tried to kill me? I felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under my feet. I might not have trusted him as implicitly and as wordlessly as I trusted Hans, but I had trusted him nonetheless.
What insane world had I escaped to? Perhaps it would have been better if I had drowned in my jail cell after all.
The World Turned Upside Down
Some instinct, some feeling, prevented me going home at once. No, I don’t know what except thinking that Javier might have woken up, and if he woke up, he would try to send people to intercept me on the way to Olympus. He would assume I would return there, right?
So instead, I took a detour, and went to Liberte Seacity, where I landed on a deserted beach.
I’d had some time to think, and thought the best thing I could do was to talk to some of my other old friends. Perhaps they could explain what was happening, and perhaps they could tell me what had happened to Javier and why he spoke that way. Perhaps it was a stroke, I thought. In which case, my hitting him on the head could have done no good at all. But I didn’t see how I could have got around it. I couldn’t even find the stuff I needed to bind him, could I? There hadn’t been anything I could use nearby. And to let go of him and go in search of it, I’d have needed to knock him out first, anyway.
No, I’d done the only thing I could, even if the violence of it bothered me. I didn’t want to fight and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. There had been enough of that, and anything that required me to do more of it, made me feel tired and old. Very old.
So I landed and took the portable links out. One of them had a series of programmed numbers, but I recognized none of them, so I took the other and dialed another of the Hellions—Josia Bruno, from New Verona Seacity. It took a while for him to answer because, I supposed that was his private number, and he was the Good Man, now. The face I got, floating midair, looked like Josia well enough. I’d chosen a deserted beach well, because landing in a broom was not strictly legal, but also so I could have sight as well as sound. But he didn’t look like he recognized me at all. Which I couldn’t blame him for, I supposed. I wouldn’t have recognized myself either. “Jos?” I said. “It’s Lucius.”
“It’s who?” he said.
“Lucius Keeva,” I said.
He blinked. “You mean . . .” he said. And then frowned. “Dante?”
Don’t ask me to explain it, please, but his expressions were all wrong. And what he said was all wrong. I pressed the phone off and took a deep breath.
Perhaps I was the one who had gone crazy. Perhaps I had gone completely around the bend and just hadn’t realized it. Perhaps . . .
On a whim, on a desperate moment of insanity, I dialed Hans’s
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