Robert Crane - Soulless

“I don’t think you realize the depth of your mistake here.” The voice was familiar, but I still couldn’t see the speaker.

“Sir, we’re going to have to call the police.” The lead guard’s hand rested on his holster, and I could see that he was tensing on the grip.

“That’s a shame.” Cold, bitterly ironic, the speaker didn’t sound at all regretful. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew that voice and I adjusted my position, crossing in front of Kat. I caught a glimpse of him over the security guard’s shoulder.

He was in profile to me, looking at the guard closest to him, and didn’t see me. His hair was long, brown and hung almost to his shoulder blades. I saw that his face was red, though it was hard to tell through his swarthy skin. I knew his eyes were brown, though I couldn’t see them from this distance. I quickened my pace and drew my FBI ID.

“Gentlemen,” I said, holding it open. “Sienna Clarke, FBI. This is Agent Ahern.” I nodded to Kat. “What’s going on here?”

“Ma’am.” The lead security guard peered hard at my ID while the other two watched their subject with undistilled suspicion. “This man was trying to access patient rooms long past the end of visiting hours.”

I turned to the man they held captive. “Is this true?”

He folded his arms and stared at me with barely disguised disbelief. “I just came here to talk to the guy who got robbed.” He nodded at the lead guard. “This clown gave me the party line and I was about to give him the party platter.”

Kat squinted. “What…what that does even mean? Is that a threat?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “A party platter filled with meats and cheeses is a generous gift, and he should be damned happy to get it.”

“Ma’am?” The head guard got my attention turned back to him. “What is the FBI doing here in the middle of the night, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The same thing your troublemaker is doing,” I said. “We need to have a conversation with the patient. He’s a witness in a series of robberies that have crossed state lines.” I nodded to Kat. “If you could show Agent Ahern to his room while I deal with your interloper…” I gestured with my hand toward the man standing between them all and he rolled his eyes and nodded back, with the greatest reluctance. I locked eyes with Kat. “We’ll be outside when you’re done.”

“Ma’am?” The head security guard spoke up again. “Would you like us to come with you, keep an eye on him?” He said it as the troublemaker walked past me, already on his way back to the elevator.

“Him?” I turned to follow him as he walked past. “If he gives me any problems, I’ll just shoot him.”

I heard the security guard behind me, a warble of uncertainty as he whispered to his colleagues. I followed the long-haired man back to the elevator, stopping in front of the door after he pressed the down button. “I didn’t need your help,” he said, stepping into the box.

“Of course you didn’t,” I said with an easy nod. “You were about to lay waste to three local rent-a-cops and probably a couple nurses because you had it all well under control.”

“Damned right.” His sullen look finally cracked and I caught the shake of his head that was followed by a grin. “How have you been, Sienna? I haven’t seen you in my dreams lately.”

I blew air noiselessly between my lips. “Honestly, I’ve been too busy to think about you, Reed.”

“Ouch.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “So you’re a full-on Directorate agent now, huh?”

“Nah. I work for the FBI. Longer hours, worse pay.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure. Should we play the game of denial about why each of us is here, or can we cut the crap and get right to the truth?”

“I will if you will.”

“You’re here because of the guy, right?” He stared me down. “The guy going around treating convenience store clerks like he’s Chris Brown?”

I started to lie, but he was watching me. I’d known Reed longer than just about anybody, though I hadn’t spoken to him in months. “Yeah. We figure this is a new meta, just manifesting, that needs a serious reining in.”

“Yeah?” He tugged on the front of his shirt. He was wearing a nice one, a white dress shirt that was untucked, with a suit coat over it and dark jeans. “You talk to the guy in Owatonna?”

“You mean the guy with a big hole in his memory?”

“He was kind of a dead end, wasn’t he?” Reed smiled. “The ones in Wyoming and South Dakota had the exact same problem, oddly enough. How big of a believer are you in coincidence? Because I’m not much of one; and head traumas don’t typically cause that much memory loss.”

“What kind of meta would be able to do that?” I folded my arms, felt the familiar lump under my left arm as I rested my hand on my pistol.

He shrugged, looking for all the world like he was a man unconcerned with anything. “Well, the beatings could be caused by just about any type…as for the other, there’s a few that could cause that, but one in particular I’m thinking of.”

I waited a minute for him to answer. “I thought we weren’t gonna do the mystery game.”

“I said we weren’t gonna do the denial game – I never said I was gonna tell you everything I know.” He turned and pushed the button to call the elevator and stared at me, puzzlement brewing on his face. “Why Clarke? Why not just go with Nealon?”

I rolled my eyes and lowered my voice. “Because if you’re going to commit a felony, it’s best not to use your real name, especially if said name is being entered into the FBI database as an agent. That tends to leave a pretty exact record if anything goes wrong.”

He frowned. “Well, wouldn’t they have had to put a picture of you into the database in a personnel file?”

“I—” I stopped and thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not planning on making a major problem of it.”

“Huh.” He stared back at me with cool amusement. “I might worry about that a little bit if I were you, especially given who you work for.”

“Oh yeah?” We both looked up as the elevator dinged. “Care to share what you mean by that?”

He smiled as he stepped into the elevator. “Nope.” His hand reached out to hold the door as Kat came up to join us. “What’s the word, blondie? Does this guy have a swiss melt for a memory too?”

Kat had the rarest of expressions cross her face, irritation, as she shot me a look, as though she were asking permission before speaking in front of him. I nodded at her. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s perfectly healthy, his brain is fine, but the memory’s just gone, like it never existed.”

“Same old story.” Reed pulled his hand back and the elevator door started to close. “See you ladies down the road. Oh, and Sienna? You smell like whiskey. Just FYI.”

The elevator doors closed before I could snap back a reply. I looked to Kat, who was slightly flushed. “Of course I smell like whiskey,” I said. “I’ve been drinking whiskey.” Kat shrugged as I pushed the elevator button to call another one. “Ass,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Who was he?” Kat waited until we were walking across the parking lot to ask.

“Him?” I chucked a thumb toward the hospital building. “When Zack and Kurt came to my house for the first time, they ended up drawing guns—”

“What?” She looked at me with incredulity. “Really?”

“Really. I kinda got into a scuffle with them first. Anyway, I ended up running when Kurt started shooting, and Reed was waiting outside and offered me an escape route, so I took him up on it.”

“They shot at you?” She stopped and grabbed me by the arm. I felt the strength in her grip; it wasn’t quite as much as I could bring to bear, but the girl was no slouch. “With real bullets?”