Anton Strout: Dead To Me

Wesker sighed and adjusted his mirrored frames. “My God, don’t you ever tire with the questions?”

“The boy is merely cautious,” the Inspectre said. “How does the saying go? ‘He is most free from danger, who, even when safe, is on his guard.’”

“Nice one,” Connor chimed in.

“‘Curiosity killed the cat,’” Wesker offered flatly. “I can offer up pithy sayings, too. The point, Simon, is this. For all that your Other Division has to offer you, just remember that there are shades of gray out there as well as your black-and-white world of good and evil.I embrace the Darkness to better serve the light. You’d do best to remember that. What you see as my coldness and ambition, I see as a practicality in an unending war with the forces of Darkness. But I do know a good soul when I see one, Simon, and I could hardly let Jane be lost to that fool now, could I? Besides, from what I heard said about her at the Sectarian Defense League, she could prove a useful asset to Greater and Lesser Arcana.”

“You want to offer me a job?” Jane said. She seemed excited at the prospect, but it was still a position answering to Wesker. She looked to me warily.

For once, I was dumbstruck. As much as I found his motives suspect, at least Jane might be able to keep an eye on him if she was in his Greater amp; Lesser Arcana Division. I nodded subtly.

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

The Inspectre haroomed loudly. “You say thank you.”

“Yes,” Wesker said. “You say thank you.To me. Even if it kills you…and I know it will.”

Wesker had taken Jane into his division because he’d heard what a professional she was, but I knew it couldn’t hurt that he knew I would hate the idea. And now he was forcing me to thank him. Whatever his motives, though, I did have him to thank for Jane’s safety from Jason Charles. It stung that Wesker was the one who had remedied the situation and not me, but that was probably his point in doing it in the first place.

I looked Wesker in the eye. “Thank you,” I said.

Wesker looked like the cat that had eaten the canary.

Jane put her arm around me, spun me around, and started hobbling me back toward the office.

“One last thing,” Wesker called out. All tolerance was gone from his voice this time. “If I hear about a lick of this getting out to the other staffers, I may have to put a contract out on you myself. Ido have a reputation for evil to uphold around here, and frankly, I find fear a much better motivator for my division than your Inspectre’s precious nurturing technique.”

Inspectre Quimbley snorted in response.

I stared blankly back at Wesker. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said with the Grinchiest of grins and stormed off toward the offices before I could get another word in.

Jane went off after Wesker to Greater amp; Lesser Arcana to fill out a mountain of paperwork. The day wore on, and I filled out my own mountain until it was time to head home. It was marvelous to experience my first night of downtime in what felt like forever. As I settled into the chaotic comfort of my apartment all alone, I took stock of the past few days. I had grown to care for and respect almost all the people I worked with more than I thought possible, and I had even fallen for a cultist. In light of recent events, the apartment seemed eerily quiet. I was surprised to find that now that I did have some time alone, I wasn’t really comfortable with it.

The answering machine I had been ignoring since Tamara’s death stared at me, its little red light flickering like a spastic heart monitor. I was almost positive that most of the messages had been Tamara’s usual tirades. I reached for the play button then thought better of it and simply unplugged the phone. What good would listening to them do now? Torturing myself for the inaction that had gotten her killed?

Enough was enough. I had a pretty good idea where I fell short now, how my powers had driven a wedge between myself and true happiness, but something had changed in me. I needed a fresh start for a fresh life. God, I felt like a Dr. Phil show just for thinking like that and I threw up in my mouth a little.

In celebration of my shift in attitude, I unpacked the remaining contents of my broken and overturned crates from the headhunter’s break-in while wondering what role Jane might play in my life. Jane gave me hope that peoplecould change for the better, and that reassured me about the change I had made. She had been at my side in the museum that fateful night. I had been in the mind of Henry the Second of France.

Looking back now, being in the mind of Henry the Second of France had probably helped effect a shift in my psychometric power. Recalling the mental weight of his responsibility for his country seemed to let me tap into reserves of calm and self-control, and made the problems I usually had seem bearable. Ever since that night, I had found it easier to control my psychometry. It was amazing what a brief stint as a historical legend did to give you a new sense of perspective.

Still, even with someone as wonderful as Jane in my life, Irene’s passing and Tamara’s destruction had left me with several mental truckloads of thoughts. Faith, for instance, had become the foremost nag of them all. Dealing with the extraordinary was hard enough without bringing up the question of a God or, possibly, gods. So much of what I had seen in my formative time with the Department just didn’t jibe with any one particular branch of theology.

One particular thought weighed heavily on my mind: Every case I worked was its own brand of jigsaw puzzle. Some of those puzzles had only a hundred pieces and were recommended for ages seven to ten, while others were designed for a full-time staff of Mensa brainiacs. I suspected that I fell to the lower end of that scale, but one of the biggest pieces of Irene’s puzzle was why she was lingering around after death in the first place. Why hadn’t she passed on?

Last night at the museum, Irene had spoke of how right everything felt in doing one final self-sacrificing deed that ultimately saved Jane and me. She was content that once the battle was over, she would be free. She seemed sure of it. If that was true, then she had remained earthbound for just such a specific reason-to be there for me. And if I was going to believe that she had been put there for a reason, then that spoke of predestination, didn’t it? If I was a cog in someone’s great machine, it put a considerable deal of pressure on me. Was I doing the right things-the Good things-in the face of some scheme far grander? It was both terrifying and glorious a thought at the same time. Of course, Irene may simply have been earthbound by some scientific coincidence involving energy, math, and Schrцdinger’s Cat.

That was the tricky part. Which was it? I wasn’t sure, but I knew one thing: Some force was at work. Be it of logical explanation or a more spiritual one, I could feel its presence in my life nonetheless.

Thinking about all of it made my brain hurt. The greater mystery of what lies beyond life eluded me. Hopefully they would cover that in one of the pamphlets or a seminar.

Until then, I would drive myself mad if I thought about the totality of it all. The only way to comfort myself over it was to remember Irene’s words in passing. Life was, as she said, for the living.

I tidied up my living room, stuffing the last of the packing materials into one of the empty boxes, and I started to visualize how all the unwrapped bits of furniture and antiques would fit into my setup. I was ever the puzzle solver. The place was finally starting to feel like a home. Only one piece remained missing.

I pulled out my cell and dialed Jane.