Immortal Killers Page 7

  “Jake,” she said, “this is my husband-to-be, Charlie.”

  “Hi, Jake.” He put out his hand, but Nathan couldn’t move. Charlie gave an odd grin and turned to Jennie. “Everything okay here?”

  “Jake is an old friend of Nathan’s. I was telling him how Laura forced me to start dating, and I ran into you at that speed-dating thing.”

  “Yup. Who would’ve thought we’d find each other there of all places?”

  “Well, neither of us wanted to stay, so we cut out and ended up having an impromptu date, and one thing led to another, and well, here we are getting married.”

  Nathan glared at Charlie. “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage. That’s what Nathan told me.”

  “I didn’t. Until this beauty came into my life. Changed me around real fast.”

  Jennie giggled. Nathan had never heard such a sound from her before. She put her hand on Charlie’s chest. “I thought maybe you two knew each other, but it doesn’t sound like it.”

  “Not that I can think of,” Charlie said. “I’m pretty sure I met all of Nathan’s old buddies. How did you know him exactly?”

  Nathan stared at Charlie’s neck — a simple strike, fast and hard, could crush the trachea in seconds causing a painful but inevitable death. He shook off the thought and stumbled to his feet. “I-I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I should never have bothered you.”

  “No bother,” she said. “Please, don’t go. I want to hear about you and Nathan.”

  “I can’t … I can’t be here.” Nathan shoved a woman to the side as he broke free from the confining walls of Mario’s Pizza. He hurried around the corner and let himself get lost in the thick afternoon crowds. Three breaths and he knew it was no use. He dashed into an alley and threw up.

  Chapter Ten

  Night. Nathan sat in a rental Prius — Octavia had told him to stick to public transportation — and through micro-binoculars he watched Jennie and Charlie settling into their new townhouse in Queens. Whenever he focused on her, he saw her happy and laughing and gazing off with love and warmth. It pleased him to see her so well.

  But then he would look at Charlie, and a fiery film covered his eyes. He could break down that door, rush in, and wrench that bastard’s head so fast the man would be dead before he crumpled to the floor. He could wait until Jennie went to sleep, then sneak in through the window — it had a simple slide lock, easy to open — and abduct Charlie without her ever knowing. He’d place the backstabbing ass in the trunk, drive him out to the dumps in Jersey, and enjoy a few hours of torture for no reason other than to hear the screams. Then he’d kill the piece of crap.

  The passenger side door opened and Octavia dropped in. All of Nathan’s rage flushed out as his throat tightened. He knew Octavia would be angry when she learned that he had abandoned his mission, but he never thought he would have to face her so soon.

  The Smith and Wesson MP was holstered on his right side. Like the Colt 1911, the MP was a solid semi-automatic, but lighter and with an extended magazine that held up to twelve rounds. He would never be able to pull it out in time. She would chop him in the neck or shoot him or whatever she had planned long before his fingers could touch the butt of the weapon. He had a snub-nose .38 strapped to his ankle, but again, the movements required to get hold of the weapon meant Octavia would dispose of him before he ever reached it. That meant the knife on his left side was his only option. He could ease his hand to the hilt, gently slip the blade out, and wait for an opportunity. It would still be risky — any attack would require his left hand to travel across his own body before reaching her, telegraphing his intent, and giving her plenty of openings to counter — but he didn’t see any other choice.

  Until she spoke.

  She looked across the street at the townhouse — Jennie and Charlie shared a bottle of wine in their dining room — and she sighed. “You have no idea how drastic the world changes in a few hundred years. You will, but right now, it is all beyond your scope. Me, on the other hand — well, I have seen such changes. The world I was born into didn’t have cars or planes or phones. Computers and video games weren’t even a thought. Life was about raising crops, keeping our animals alive, and surviving. But no matter which world we live in, deep in our core the things that make our true hearts beat, that has never changed.”

  “Are you high? This doesn’t sound like you.”

  She jutted her chin toward the apartment. “Which one of them do you wish to kill? Him or her?”

  “Him. I love her.”

  “Plenty of people murder the ones they love. I did.”

  Nathan shifted in his seat to face her. His hands no longer sought a weapon. “You did what?”

  “I was born in 1789. I grew up in a small village in Africa and life was peaceful and pleasant. Until one day, slavers came. I was a toddler, but I still remember watching them rip through our village, killing those that stood in their way, and gathering up all the young and strong. They took my parents from me. They would’ve happily taken me as well, but my father hid me in a mound of dung.

  “A few of the elders tried to take me in, but I was too distraught. I ran off into the jungle, and as you might expect, a little girl in the jungle isn’t going to fare too well. I sat on a rock and cried. I didn’t see the puff adder curled at the base. When I accidently stepped on the snake, it bit me. The puff adder is one of the most deadly in Africa, and I was small. I died quickly.

  “But, of course, that isn’t the end of the story. A great woman came to me in this body. She stared into my eyes and took my soul. She knew taking such a young soul meant that someday, I would push her out, but she did so anyway. Sometimes I wish we could talk with our second souls. I would have told her that her sacrifice was appreciated and used well.

  “Many years passed by before I took over. When I did, I headed to the Americas to find my parents. It took a long time. Years. But eventually, I tracked them to a tobacco farm — a small plantation in North Carolina.

  “I sneaked onto the property one night and into the slave quarters. I went straight to them, bawling over how I had missed them and loved them. And they only stared at me with confusion on their faces. I said I was their daughter and that I had searched for them and here I had found them. My father brought a candle closer to my face. But he shook his head. He didn’t see me in this body. I remember his exact words, ‘Missus, you playin’ the cruelest game upon our hearts. Go before I gets mad.’ I looked to my mother, and she turned away as memories of the daughter she had lost flooded her with tears.

  “I left angrier than I had ever been. Not at them — it wasn’t their fault. But I knew exactly who to blame. I stomped right on up that porch and kicked down the front door. I’ve fought a lot of people since that night, but never have I seen the outright horror on faces as I did on that little white family. They watched a strange, black woman burst into their house and start wrecking the place. The man of the house came right at me with his hand raised, and I saw the look in his eyes change from outrage and anger to surprise that I wasn’t cowering before him. And then came the fear.

  “I didn’t have the fighting skill I have now, but I had rage to make up for it. I was a banshee, a cyclone of terror. I tore through that house and killed all of them. Especially the children. I didn’t want another generation of those bastards coming into the world. I set the place ablaze and walked out.

  “And there in the yard was my father with several of the male slaves behind him. He held a shotgun at me. He said I was bringing them pain and suffering. That if he didn’t take me in, the white folk would take it out on them. I thought about it for a second. I considered letting the white men lynch me. I’d live through it and the others wouldn’t suffer. But something else would come along and they would suffer for that. No matter what I did, they would suffer.

  “Unless, I put them down.

  “I did it out of love. I slaughtered all of them, my parents included, so that none would have to go on living as less t
han human. I loved my parents and I murdered them.”

  Throughout her story, she never once turned her head away from watching Jennie and Charlie. But now that the tale had ended, she looked hard at Nathan. “I was wrong. I didn’t do it out of love. I did it to ease my mind.”

  “I appreciate you telling me all this, but I don’t have any love for Charlie. I have hatred.”

  “I had hatred for the family that bought my parents. Killing them was wrong, though. It felt good, at the time, but it was wrong. We can’t play the role of gods. We should never kill for those reasons. If I had never killed that family, there would have been no reason for my parents to stand up to me. There would have been no reason to think I should be lynched. And there would have been no need for me to cut them all down. Now, you love this woman, don’t you? Of course, you do. If you kill Charlie, it’ll feel good. Vengeance always feels good. But think what it will do to her. She lost her first love only a year ago, and now she loses her second love. Devastating.”

  Nathan watched them once more. Jennie smiled at some little joke Charlie had said. She kissed him on the cheek. It all looked so warm and comforting. Nathan dropped his head against the steering wheel.

  “Good,” Octavia said. “That’s a wise choice.”

  “How long does it take to forget?”

  “I’ll let you know when that happens.”

  Nathan let out a rueful laugh. “There was no mission, was there? This whole thing was a test to see what I’d do. And I failed. I skipped out on the mission and I couldn’t even follow through here.”

  “Yes and no. This was a test, but you passed. Only an unstable psychotic could ditch all he loved so easily. Had you just done the mission, we would have worried. This was also your final training session. You needed to learn that even though you live on, your old life is dead. But the good news is that there is a place for you, and a place for you to put all that anger. Because the mission is real. We do need to get that book. And while you’ve been stalking your old life, I found the location of Lucas Fremont.”

  “Oh?”

  She placed an envelope on the dashboard. “The address is in there. You want to live forever in a satisfying way? You want to have a purpose? It’s right in there. I hope to see you again.”

  With that, she left the car.

  Nathan sat in the silent car, trying to absorb all he had heard. He looked up at Jennie’s place and saw the light turn out. The air felt colder. He didn’t like the way any of this had played out. Being manipulated never felt good. Still, he snatched the envelope and ripped it open.

  Chapter Eleven

  The address led to a hotel in Manhattan. Not a nice place — not the Plaza or anything even close. Apparently, Mr. Fremont preferred to hide out at an establishment that charged little and asked fewer questions.

  A couple of working girls displayed themselves near the entrance. Both looked tired and in no mood to do their jobs. But they had to work whether they wanted to or not. For them, it meant food on the table or a fix to keep sane or money to pay off the enormous debt that got them started on the streets in the first place. Whatever the reason, the result never changed — get to work.

  As Nathan left the car and walked toward the building, he wondered how close he might be to living in their world. Octavia’s final lesson taught him one thing for certain — he had lost his old life. Jennie, law school, family, friends, everything he once considered normal had been obliterated.

  The strawberry blond in fishnets leaned towards him and flashed her cleavage. “Hey, Handsome. How ‘bout you and I have a little date?”

  Nathan never stopped moving. “Sorry. I’ve already got a special date.” As he opened the door, he added, “You two better find another place to work from tonight. Things are about to get violent.” He didn’t wait to see if they left.

  The entrance of the hotel was a narrow, wood-paneled hole. It smelled like a public restroom and the dim lighting did nothing to hide the filthy floor. Stairs ran up on the right. On the left, behind a cage, sat the clerk — an unkempt fellow with gray stubble and a wet cigar stuck in his thick lips.

  Nathan ignored the man, and the man ignored him. Instead, Nathan took the stairs. According to Octavia’s information, Lucas Fremont would be found on the third floor.

  As he climbed the stairs, he wondered what kind of life lay ahead for him. If he stayed with Octavia and her group — a group he had yet to really meet, a group with no name — then he would be signing up for mission after mission with no end. Would they all be like this?

  He could hear the fake moans of ecstasy pumping through the walls as lonely men satisfied their physical hungers. He had never been in such a place before. Hearing the heaving breaths and groans of the men soured Nathan’s stomach. He hurried up the next flight of stairs.

  On the top stair, a square-headed man stood with his muscular arms folded over a broad chest. He put out one hand like a police officer stopping traffic. “Turn around, pal. This area’s off limits.”

  As Nathan continued up the stairs, he saw the man reach into his coat pocket for a gun. Though still four steps down, Nathan knew he had the fight won. He punched straight ahead into the bodyguard’s knees. They broke easily enough. By the time the big man finished tumbling down the staircase, Nathan had reached the top and glanced back to see that the poor guy was unconscious.

  The real problem for Nathan, the thing that really stuck in his throat about all of this, was that his crucial mission made him nothing more than a thug, shaking down deadbeats for information. No better, really, than the men he now fought.

  A second bodyguard — this one thinner but no less muscular — rushed forward, gun in hand. He pointed it at Nathan’s head. Nathan never gave the man time to speak a single threat. He grabbed the muzzle of the gun and leaned all his weight down, making sure to wrench the gun sideways, away from his thigh — just in case the bodyguard managed to squeeze the trigger.

  The bodyguard’s attention locked in on the weapon which left his face wide open to punch after punch after punch. When he finally fell back, Nathan had no trouble taking the weapon away. He clicked on the safety and stuck it in the back of his pants. One more careful strike to the temple knocked out the bodyguard.

  Nathan moved steadily down the hall to Room 307 at the end. He had died and come back, spent a year in intensive training, lost his past, and gained what? This? Beating up unskilled adversaries in a rundown whorehouse? No. This was not what he wanted. He had been given a second chance. Heck, if he took care of his body, immortality meant he had a third, fourth, and fifth chance — an infinite number of chances at life. He had to do something better than this.

  He kicked the door open. Fremont sat in a chair at the foot of the bed positioned to give him a clear shot at Nathan. Which he took. Three times. Two bullets hit — one to the chest, one to the stomach. Nathan walked into the room.

  Clutching the black book in one hand, Fremont aimed higher. Though his hands trembled, he managed another shot, hitting Nathan in the forehead. The force of the bullet snapped Nathan’s head back. He dropped to his knees.

  He heard Fremont gasp but he saw nothing. Nothing but mist seeping out of his eyes. He felt cold emptiness slide over his body. He had lost his second soul.

  Then came the pain. Three bullets worming their way out of his body. Using the techniques he had learned, he pushed through the burning and aching as he aided his body to speed up the process. As the bullets clinked on the floor, he heard Fremont yelp. When he stood, Fremont’s pants darkened and a puddle formed beneath him.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Nathan said as he plucked the black book from Fremont’s stunned grasp. “I was going to let you live. But now, you have something I need.”

  With a swift motion, Nathan shot Fremont in the side of the head. He caught the body before it fell over and pressed up close. As the mist of Fremont’s soul departed through his eyes, Nathan had no trouble bringing it in. He sighed with the comfort of
being whole once more.

  As he left the hotel, nobody paid him any attention. The whores on the second floor continued to service their customers. The clerk in the cage continued to ignore the world. The girls on the street continued to seek out lonely men. Nobody dared to wonder what the gunshots were all about. Nobody said a word. Nathan walked back to his car and drove off.

  Three blocks away, he pulled over. For a moment, he could only see Dean Schooner, the bail jumper he watched beaten to death long ago. He stuck his head out the window to vomit. When he finished, he headed for the rental car office. The black book pressed in his back pocket, and he kept focused on delivering it.

  Finish the job and be done. They’ll want more. They’ll try to keep him. They won’t let him keep the body. But the idea of spending a lifetime walking through whorehouses to kill off scumbags for unknown reasons turned his stomach again. If he thought about too long, he would have had to pull over once more.

  Instead, he thought about what he would do once he was free. That was easy enough — first, he had to find Crystal. With her, he planned to do what he thought he should be doing. He would set up his own group or be on his own or something else that he couldn’t conceive of yet, but whatever the set up, he would help people. Simple as that. Not governments or corporations or anybody with the power to find and hire people like him. No, he would help the little guy. The people who really needed it.

  And he knew right then that he would kill anybody who tried to stop him.

  Chapter Twelve

  He spent hours traveling to the safe house. First, he returned the rental and then hopped aboard the subway. He changed trains three times, crossing underneath much of New York.

  On the third train, around two in the morning, Nathan found himself sitting quietly while a young woman huddled in the back of the car, her head buried in a book, hoping to be ignored. A homeless man slept on the opposite side. The rest of the car was empty. Until four young men climbed aboard.