F Wilson - The Dark at the End

In a burst of anger he slid his hand toward the pocket where his own Taser hid. He’d bought it after the incident, hoping someday he’d have a chance to return the favor when he caught up to the mystery man. His fingers brushed against the comforting lump, then withdrew.

He was too far away. He’d bide his time till Jack was closer. Then…

“Last summer,” Ernst said. “In the park. That was you.”

Jack nodded. “I was in a rush chasing that Fhinn -thing, and neglected to introduce myself. Sorry.”

“The man I was with-”

“Hank Thompson.”

No surprise there. If he knew the One’s taken name, he probably knew as much about Thompson as Ernst did.

“Yes. He didn’t see you but is under the impression that you’ve met before.”

Jack nodded. “We have.”

“You do get around.”

“Not by choice.”

Ernst wasn’t sure what that meant, but didn’t want to waste time pursuing it when he had another question burning to be asked.

“How do you know about the One? How do you know his name?”

“We’ve met-a couple of times, in fact.”

The words struck like a blow. “Met? I don’t believe you. How could you have met the One? And if you really know him, why do you need me to find him?”

“We’re not on the best of terms.”

And then it became clear.

“You’re aligned with the Enemy.”

That was the reason for the One’s interest in him.

Jack frowned. “‘Enemy’?” Then nodded. “Oh, right. From your end, I work for the Enemy. From mine, you do.”

Ernst remembered secretly testing him for the Taint as a teen.

“How does someone so rich with the Taint come to oppose the Otherness?”

Jack shook his head. “Only the Ally can answer that. But you tell me: How does anyone with half a brain-and you’ve always struck me as an intelligent man-come to work for a force that is out to put some serious hurt on humanity?”

“Because the Otherness is going to win. I have no doubts about that and neither should you. Those who help it win will not, as you put it, have the hurt put on them.”

Jack gave him a lopsided grin. “You really believe that? You really think you can trust something like the Otherness?”

“As much as you trust your so-called Ally.”

Something flickered across Jack’s features. Pain?

“I don’t trust the so-called Ally. Not a bit. It keeps the Otherness at bay. That’s all it’s good for. And not for our sake. It has its own agenda. I learned that the hard way.”

Interesting. The Enemy-Jack’s Ally-was reputed to be as ruthless as the Otherness.

“Really? How?”

Instead of answering, Jack said, “You don’t strike me as a man with many illusions, so why do you think you’ll be spared if the Change comes?”

“ When it comes,” Ernst said, “the One will ascend to power, and those who aided him will ascend with him.”

“Right. You and your buddies in the Order will be seated at the right hand of God.” Jack laughed. “At the risk of sounding like John McEnroe, you can not be serious.”

“The multimillennial existence of the Septimus Order has been devoted to that. Our lore confirms it.”

He laughed again. “And you’re basing this on what-the word of a guy who feeds on pain and misery? Not exactly what I’d call an ironclad guarantee. After the Change he won’t need you or your Order anymore, Drexler. He’ll be top dog and all bets will be off. New rules will be in place and he’ll be the one making them.”

The words cut to the heart of Ernst’s own misgivings. He’d taken it as a matter of course that if the Change occurred during his lifetime he would be part of it. But would he?

Jack wouldn’t stop.

“What kind of leverage will you have, Drexler? Do you even have a promise? Did he ever say to you, ‘When I take over, you’ll be one of my lieutenants’?”

“Enough!”

Jack ignored him.

“I’ll take that as a no. But think about it: Even if he did promise, you’d have only moral leverage, and we know what kind of moral code this creep lives by. We’re talking about the guy who convinced Vlad that impaling people was an entertaining hobby.”

“That’s quite enough.”

“Face it, Drexler: If the One gets his way, you’ll be as screwed as the rest of us.”

Ernst felt something snap within him. With a cry he leaped across the room, pulling the Taser from his pocket as he moved. When Jack raised an arm to ward him off, Ernst rammed the prongs of the Taser against it and pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again with the same result.

Still seated in his chair, Jack stared up at him, his smile almost sad as he shook his head.

Ernst felt a pressure against his throat and angled his gaze downward. He realized with a start that the pressure originated from the muzzle of that same Austrian pistol.

Where had that come from?

“Drop it and get back to your seat.”

Ernst did just that, and watched as Jack rested the Glock on his lap and took a sip of his beer. He shifted his gaze to the Taser on the floor. What had gone wrong? It had been turned on, had had plenty of time to build a charge… It should have reduced Jack to twitching helplessness. What sort of man was this?

Jack looked at him. “Hit a nerve, huh?”

Ernst didn’t answer.

What is happening to me?

Where was the icy control that had been his lifelong pride? His father would be ashamed of him for letting someone-his former teenage groundskeeper, of all people-goad him like that. And it was clear to him now that Jack had been doing just that.

Was that what this visit was about? To demonstrate that Ernst was not in control-not of who entered his home, not of his own emotions?

“Where is he?” Jack said.

That question again. Was this his true reason for coming?

“The One? I don’t know.”

Jack stared at him. Ernst tried to read his face. What next? Torture. Ernst didn’t see Jack as a torturer, but he was rich with the Taint, and someone with so much of the Otherness in him might be capable of anything.

“It’s true,” he added. “The One answers to no one and has never felt the need or obligation to keep the Order informed of his whereabouts. Communication with the One is, fittingly, a one-way street. When he wants something from us, he contacts us. We do not contact him.”

Jack kept staring in silence. He was beginning to make Ernst uncomfortable. Finally he broke it.

“When was your last contact with him?”

“Weeks ago.”

“After your Jihad virus failed?”

How did he know that? Did he have a contact inside the Order? Oh, yes. Edward Connell. It must have been him.

Ernst saw no use in playing coy.

“Yes.”

“Is that when he put out the hit on the Lady?”

Ernst stiffened and tried to hide it. “Yes.”

Jack frowned. “You hesitated.”

In truth, he didn’t know when the One had ordered the attack. Szeto never mentioned it.

Ernst dodged that. “May I inquire as to why you wish to know his whereabouts?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Ernst barked a laugh. He couldn’t help it. He waved a hand. “I apologize. Kill the One? Your hubris borders on the surreal.”

Jack seemed unperturbed. “You think he’s invulnerable?”

“Well, no. But he’s so much older and wiser than you. If you know his taken name, then I’m sure you’re aware that he’s survived countless attacks over the thousands of years of his life, many of them launched by one of equal longevity who is far more capable than you. And yet he is still standing.”

“So is the one who made those attacks.”

“Ah, yes. The so-called Defender or Guardian or Paladin or whatever he’s called these days. But where is he?”