John Hawks - The Dark River

“Tonight.”

“I told you not to lie to me!”

“I swear that’s true.”

Mother Blessing stepped forward and grabbed Maya’s chin with her right hand. She studied the younger woman, looking for any sign of deceit or hesitation. Then she pushed Maya away.

“I had my disagreements with your father, but I always respected him. He was a true Harlequin, worthy of our tradition. But you’re nothing. You’ve betrayed us.”

“That’s not true.” Maya tried to sound strong and confident. “I found Gabriel in Los Angeles. I protected him from the Tabula-”

“Didn’t your father teach you? Or did you just refuse to listen? We protect Travelers, but we have no attachments to them. And now you’ve indulged yourself with this weakness and sentimentality.”

Maya’s bare feet touched the cold floor as she took a few steps to the right and picked up her sword. She placed the strap over her head so that the scabbard touched her back. “You knew me when I was growing up,” she said. “You helped my father destroy my life. Harlequins are supposed to believe in randomness. Well, there was nothing random about my childhood! I was slapped and kicked and ordered around by you and every other Harlequin who passed through London. I was trained to kill without doubt or hesitation. I killed those men in Paris when I was sixteen…”

Mother Blessing was laughing softly, mocking her. “Poor little girl. I’m so sorry. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want pity-from me ? Do you think anything was different when I was a child? I killed my first Tabula merc with a sawed-off shotgun when I was twelve! And you know what I was wearing? A white communion dress. My mother made me put it on so I could get closer to the altar and pull the trigger.”

For a few seconds, Maya saw a hint of pain in the older woman’s eyes. And she had a vision of a child in a white dress, standing in the middle of a vast cathedral, splattered with blood. The moment passed, and Mother Blessing’s anger appeared to grow even more intense.

“I’m a Harlequin, just like you,” Maya said. “And that means you can’t order me around…”

Mother Blessing drew her sword with two hands, spun it over her head, and finished with the point aimed at the floor. “You’ll do whatever I tell you. Your relationship with Gabriel is over. You’ll never see him again.”

Maya raised her right hand slowly-to show that she was not planning an immediate attack. Then she pulled her sword out of its scabbard and held it with the point facing up and the flat of the blade against her chest. “Call Captain Foley tomorrow and he’ll take us off this island. I’ll continue to protect Gabriel and you can guard his father.”

“There’s no discussion about this. No compromise. You will submit to my authority.”

“No.”

“You’ve slept with a Traveler and now you’re in love with him. That sort of emotion just puts him in danger.” Mother Blessing raised her sword. “Because I’ve destroyed my own fear, I can create fear in others. Because I don’t care about my own life, all my enemies die. Your father tried to tell you this, but you were too rebellious. Maybe I can make you listen…”

Mother Blessing extended her left leg. It was a graceful, practiced movement-like the beginning of a dance. And then the Irish Harlequin propelled herself forward, attacking with quick, sharp movements of the wrists and hands. She slashed and jabbed with unrestrained power as Maya gave ground and tried to defend herself. The candle flames fluttered and the sound of clashing swords cut through the silence.

A few feet from the altar, Maya threw herself across the room like a diver entering the water. She somersaulted away from the other Harlequin, got back up, and raised her sword again.

Mother Blessing renewed her attack, driving Maya toward the wall. The Irish Harlequin swung her sword to the right, and then twisted it around at the last moment, catching Maya’s sword near the hilt and ripping the weapon out of the younger woman’s hands. The sword spun through the air and landed across the room.

“You will submit to me,” Mother Blessing said. “Submit, or accept the consequences.”

Maya refused to speak.

Without warning, the point of Mother Blessing’s sword cut across Maya’s chest, pulled back, cut across her left arm, pulled back, and then slashed her left hand. The three wounds felt like someone had burned her flesh. Maya looked into the Harlequin’s eyes and realized that the next movement of the sword would end her life. She remained silent until a thought came to her that was so powerful it pushed away her pride.

“Let me see Gabriel one last time.”

“No.”

“I’ll obey you. But I need to say goodbye.”

The Evergreen Foundation occupied an entire office building at Fifty-fourth Street and Madison Avenue in Manhattan. Most of the employees thought they worked for a nonprofit organization that gave out research grants and managed the endowment. Only a small staff of workers with offices on the top eight floors handled the Brethren’s less public activities.

Nathan Boone passed through the revolving door and entered the atrium lobby. He glanced at the decorative waterfall and the small grove of artificial spruce trees placed near the windows. The architects had insisted on living evergreens, but each new transplant withered and died, leaving an unsightly carpet of brown needles. The eventual solution was a grove of manufactured trees with an elaborate air system that gave off a faint pine scent. Everyone preferred the imitation evergreens: they seemed more real than something that grew in the forest.

Boone approached the security desk, stood in a small yellow square, and allowed the guard to scan his eyes. Once Boone’s identity had been verified, the guard checked a computer screen. “Good afternoon, Mr. Boone. You’re authorized to go to the eighteenth floor.”

“Any other information?”

“No, sir. That’s all it says. Mr. Raymond here will escort you to the correct elevator.”

Boone followed a second guard to the last elevator in the hallway. The man passed an ID card in front of a sensor and then stepped out just before the doors closed. As the elevator began to rise, a video camera inside the elevator scanned Boone’s face and confirmed it with the biometric information in the Evergreen Foundation’s computer.

That morning, Boone had received an e-mail that asked him to meet with members of the Brethren’s executive board. This was highly unusual. In the past few years, Boone had met the board only when Nash was in charge of the meeting. As far as he knew, the general was still on Dark Island in the Saint Lawrence River.

The elevator doors opened and Boone stepped into an empty waiting room. No one was in the receptionist’s chair, but there was a small speaker on the desk.

“Hello, Mr. Boone.” The voice that came from the speaker was computer generated, but it sounded like a real person-a young woman who was bright and efficient.

“Hello.”

“Please wait here in the room. We’ll let you know when the meeting begins.”

Boone sat on a suede couch near a glass coffee table. He had never visited the eighteenth floor, and he had no idea what sort of equipment was evaluating his reactions. A highly sensitive microphone could be listening to his heartbeat while an infrared camera might be monitoring changes in his skin temperature-people who were angry or scared had flushed skin and a faster heart rate. The computer could analyze this data and predict the likelihood of a violent reaction.

There was a faint clicking sound and then a drawer in the receptionist’s desk glided open. “Our sensors have informed us that you are carrying a handgun,” said the computer voice. “Please place it in the drawer. It will be returned at the end of the meeting.”