Trent Jamieson - Managing death

One by one the Ankous leave.

Now it's just Tim and my staff. They're all looking at me. 'And that goes for you, too. We have souls to pomp. Stirrers to hunt down.'

They scatter quickly to their workstations. I motion to Tim. 'Meeting, now.'

'I swear,' Tim says. 'I knew nothing about this. Not until they shifted us here, together.'

'That's OK,' I say. 'I've got to find Lissa. I can't feel her, she's not in the country anymore. Rillman's likely to go after her.'

'And just how are you going to find her? She's not a Pomp anymore.'

'I have my means.'

Tim raises his eyebrows. 'And I have her email password. It was an accident,' he says quickly. 'I didn't mean to uncover it, but -'

There's a commotion at the lift. Alex. He's paler than I've ever seen him. Someone tries to stop him but he just pushes past them, and stalks over to us.

'I've been trying to call,' Alex says. 'But the phones are out, all over the city. Did you have anything to do with that?'

'Rillman,' I say. 'He's killing the RMs, and I'm stuck here. Maybe Solstice -'

'That's just it. That's why I've been tyring to call. There is no Solstice,' Alex says. 'There are no Closers. It's a front. I don't know how he managed it, who he bribed, but Internal Affairs are raiding his offices now. The staff – half of them are Stirrers. We're going to need your help, or more people are going to die.'

Lissa! Solstice had people following Lissa! If they're Stirrers…

Tim's already running through the office, directing staff to call every Pomp they can. I look at Alex.

'You and Tim are going to have to deal with this. I need to find Lissa, she's in danger.'

He nods. 'We can handle it.'

I shift home and rifle through what is left of Lissa's things there as I boot up my Notebook. No clues. My phone chirps; a text from Tim: Lissa's email password.

I get online, open her email and there it is. A ticket booked to Wellington. She has an aunt living on the North Island. Flights to New Zealand are so cheap these days it makes sense she'd visit her. By my laptop is the photo album of Lissa's. She must have been flicking through it before our fight. There's an old Polaroid from a Death Moot marked '1974'. Lissa's parents are pressed into a small group with Suzanne – she's looking as fresh as ever. I recognise that forced grin.

Lissa's mum's face is fixed. She must have known by then. Christ, any business is a small world. I know how I would feel if I thought Lissa was seeing someone behind my back. How did I ever let this happen? I should have been up front about the deal from the beginning.

Then I see Rillman, his tight smile, his arm around Don, Alex's dad, at the side of the group.

It's him all right. But that's not what catches my eye, makes me suck in a sharp breath. There's a tattoo running down his forearm. A tattoo I've seen before.

Smauget. The dragon.

Solstice is Rillman.

Or Rillman became Solstice.

What might Stirrers do on a plane?

I focus my mind on Lissa, reaching out across the distance, reaching out beyond the edge of the shore. And there. I sense her! I've never shifted into a moving vehicle before, let alone a plane, but she is my centre, my heart. I could shift to her anywhere.

A moment later I am thirty thousand feet in the air, standing next to Lissa.

I exhale, a sigh that really wants to become a scream, but I stop it before that. Shit, how did things get so bad, so quickly? Lissa looks at me and scowls, but that doesn't disguise how tightly she is holding onto her seat. It seems the plane's hit some nasty turbulence.

The flight's crowded. If anyone is surprised by my sudden appearance they don't show it. I look down the aisle. No one seems to have noticed me, but that may well be because of the bad weather.

The seat next to Lissa is empty, and I drop into it.

'That seat's taken,' Lissa says. She looks tired, but resolute. There's maybe one too many Disney pins on her blouse, as though she's overcompensating.

'We need to talk,' I say.

'I told you not to follow me.' She doesn't let go of her seat. The seatbelt sign is flashing. She sniffs the air. 'I can smell smoke. You've been smoking?'

I shake my head. 'Of course not. I only smoke when I'm drunk.'

'And when aren't you drunk these days?'

I brush the insult aside. 'There's something you need to know.'

'You've left it a bit late, wouldn't you say?'

'I don't think it's ever too late for us. I have to believe that.' I lower my voice to a whisper. 'It's Solstice. He's Rillman.'

'What?'

'I don't have time to explain, but he's got two guys tailing you. Don't ask me how I know. I think they're Stirrers.'

Lissa's face hardens. 'The prick!' Then her eyes narrow. 'You got him to tail me. You're the reason they're here in the first place.'

'Look, no matter how much it might look like that, he wants you dead. He knows I'm hopeless without you.' I don't mention Suzanne's guard or the fact that he's dead.

Lissa doesn't look too satisfied with the answer I've given her, but she's already thinking the problem through. 'Right. If they're Stirrers you're going to need a Pomp by your side.'

'You'd do that?'

'Bloody hell, de Selby, I love you.'

Yeah, she does. No matter how things turn out, no matter how stupid I've been, she loves me!

'Then you have to know I would never cheat on you. That I couldn't.'

'But why did you lie to me?'

'Because you were so against the whole idea of Suzanne's offer. Lissa, I didn't want to hurt you.'

'How about a little trust?' she says.

'Exactly!'

And now we're glaring at each other again.

'This isn't over,' Lissa sighs. 'Just do what you have to do.'

She reaches up and touches my lips with her fingers. There's serious voltage in that gesture, more electricity than anything Rillman generated on the bridge. It silences me and, oddly enough, focusses me on the job at hand.

I hold her head and transfer my power into her: feel that familiar link. It's such an intense intimacy. For a moment, we are closer than ever. Bound in each other. Feeling what the other is feeling. It's like gazing in a mirror with another's eyes. The familiar becomes unfamiliar. Our eyes widen. Our breaths quicken. What wounds me most of all is the hurt I sense within her. This is my fault. I caused this pain, and anger.

I shudder with the strength of it, and then my fingers drop from her brow. Lissa is a Pomp again. She blinks at me, and I catch myself blinking, too.

'I should never have hurt you,' I whisper.

'Steven, this is about us. Not just you. We got into this quickly; it was always going to be difficult. I – I'm not used to long-term relationships. I thought it would be easy, and – but I wouldn't have it any other way. Trust me next time. Trust me to be strong enough, because I am.'

Yeah, she's stronger than me.

'And what about you? Why don't you trust me to do the right thing? I made a mistake, but I would never cheat on you. I'm not your father, and -'

The plane shudders. The storm outside is building. We have to find those Stirrers.

I look around. There's no one I'd consider suspicious. Then I glance at the front of the plane. The toilet light is on, and it's flickering, flaring from dim to bright. And always just before the lightning bursts outside.

'In there,' I say, slipping Lissa my knife once I've surreptitiously slit my own palm.

I walk down the aisle to the toilet door. One of the attendants shuffles towards me, gripping the seats tightly, but my glare is enough to stop them.

At the front of the plane I can hear the pilot's muted talk in the cabin. They don't sound too happy. Having a Stirrer so close wouldn't be helping either. Reflex times would be slowing. Everybody on the plane including the pilots probably has a headache. Not good when you're trying to fly through a storm. And looking through the nearest window I can tell this is a whopper.