Hunt. To be a ticking clock, counting down to your own death as your body eats itself alive. To have nothing to look forward to but a few remaining years of misery, immobility and pain. To have more than enough money for anything you want, and yet still not enough to extend your life. Time is a thief, Mr. Hunt. It steals everything from you, little by little. I watchedJulian’s mother waste away on her deathbed. I saw the pity in everyone’s eyes, heard it in the pitch of their voices. I won’t allow that to happen to me. Pity is what you get when people don’t fear you. Other people’s pity only makes you weaker. But fear…” He swung the dagger once more, slicing three fresh cuts across Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel grunted in pain from between his clenched teeth. “Fear makes you much, much stronger. Now, tell me how to use the Star.”
Streams of sweat rolled off Gabriel’s forehead. Each new cut felt like a fire burning just under his skin. But as long as he could keep Grissom talking, keep the madman thinking he was the one with the answers and not Joyce, he would take it for as long as he had to. There was no other choice.
Grissom slashed his abdomen. This time Gabriel cried out. Judging from the smile on the old man’s face, it seemed to make Grissom happy.
“Can you imagine,” Grissom continued, “how intrigued I was when I heard the legend of the Spearhead? What I could do with such a thing. The fire at world’s end. Why should it just be my end that approaches? Why not the whole world’s, just like the legend says, only with my hand setting the blaze? When my wife died, the world didn’t care. It carried on as if nothing had happened. The next morning was like all the ones before it: birds sang, breezes blew, politicians lied, all of it. There will be no ordinary next morning when I die, Mr. Hunt. For me, the world will sit up and take notice. There will be no forgetting the name Edgar Grissom.”
“You’re…” Gabriel began, and then shook his head. The words were so inadequate. But he said them anyway. “You’re crazy.”
Grissom smiled. “And now we finally hear from Gabriel Hunt! Has your tongue been loosened at last? Tell me what I need to know and the pain stops.”
Gabriel looked away. The patter of the rain on the canvas roof slowed to a stop, amplifying the silence that filled the tent.
“A pity,” Grissom said. “I was hoping you’d be more cooperative.” He looked down at the three blood-tipped blades of his dagger. “You see, until I have what I want, I need you alive. Your friends, however, are of no such importance to me.” Grissom turned to Joyce. She kept her head down, her eyes to the ground. “There’s something wonderful about women, don’t you think?” He reached out with the knife until the blades’ tips just brushed the skin of her clavicle. “The way the fear stays in their eyes even after they die.”
He moved the dagger to the base of her neck, then up to her throat. Joyce tilted her head away from the sharp blades and glared up at Grissom, her lips pulled back from her teeth.
“Tell me how to use the Star, Mr. Hunt,” Grissom insisted, “or I will open her lovely neck.”
Gabriel sat silently, his skin singing with pain, blood rolling down his ribs and abdomen. Beside him, Noboru tugged against the ropes that bound him to his chair. Gabriel met Joyce’s eyes, and she shot him a look of steely resolve that erased any doubt whether she meant what she’d said. She was willing to die to keep the Spearhead out of Grissom’s hands.
But what if the legend was wrong? They’d found one gemstone, but what if there weren’t any others? Or what if the Spearhead didn’t exist anymore, or if it never had? He couldn’t let her die for something no one even knew for sure was real. He met her eyes again, then looked over at Grissom, and saw an equaldetermination in each pair of eyes. Rock, meet hard place. Gabriel struggled against his bindings, trying
Streams of sweat rolled off Gabriel’s forehead. Each new cut felt like a fire burning just under his skin. But as long as he could keep Grissom talking, keep the madman thinking he was the one with the answers and not Joyce, he would take it for as long as he had to. There was no other choice.
Grissom slashed his abdomen. This time Gabriel cried out. Judging from the smile on the old man’s face, it seemed to make Grissom happy.
“Can you imagine,” Grissom continued, “how intrigued I was when I heard the legend of the Spearhead? What I could do with such a thing. The fire at world’s end. Why should it just be my end that approaches? Why not the whole world’s, just like the legend says, only with my hand setting the blaze? When my wife died, the world didn’t care. It carried on as if nothing had happened. The next morning was like all the ones before it: birds sang, breezes blew, politicians lied, all of it. There will be no ordinary next morning when I die, Mr. Hunt. For me, the world will sit up and take notice. There will be no forgetting the name Edgar Grissom.”
“You’re…” Gabriel began, and then shook his head. The words were so inadequate. But he said them anyway. “You’re crazy.”
Grissom smiled. “And now we finally hear from Gabriel Hunt! Has your tongue been loosened at last? Tell me what I need to know and the pain stops.”
Gabriel looked away. The patter of the rain on the canvas roof slowed to a stop, amplifying the silence that filled the tent.
“A pity,” Grissom said. “I was hoping you’d be more cooperative.” He looked down at the three blood-tipped blades of his dagger. “You see, until I have what I want, I need you alive. Your friends, however, are of no such importance to me.” Grissom turned to Joyce. She kept her head down, her eyes to the ground. “There’s something wonderful about women, don’t you think?” He reached out with the knife until the blades’ tips just brushed the skin of her clavicle. “The way the fear stays in their eyes even after they die.”
He moved the dagger to the base of her neck, then up to her throat. Joyce tilted her head away from the sharp blades and glared up at Grissom, her lips pulled back from her teeth.
“Tell me how to use the Star, Mr. Hunt,” Grissom insisted, “or I will open her lovely neck.”
Gabriel sat silently, his skin singing with pain, blood rolling down his ribs and abdomen. Beside him, Noboru tugged against the ropes that bound him to his chair. Gabriel met Joyce’s eyes, and she shot him a look of steely resolve that erased any doubt whether she meant what she’d said. She was willing to die to keep the Spearhead out of Grissom’s hands.
But what if the legend was wrong? They’d found one gemstone, but what if there weren’t any others? Or what if the Spearhead didn’t exist anymore, or if it never had? He couldn’t let her die for something no one even knew for sure was real. He met her eyes again, then looked over at Grissom, and saw an equaldetermination in each pair of eyes. Rock, meet hard place. Gabriel struggled against his bindings, trying
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