Deadly Ghosts, page 14
“Will do.”
“And, Spears,” she added in a surprisingly soft tone, “stay safe out there.”
“I’m trying,” I said.
She nodded slowly. “A team has already been dispatched to your location, and the Conclave thanks you for your service.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” I said, then killed the feed and made my way back out to Imogen.
“Did you call for backup?” she asked when I appeared.
“Not really,” I told her. “I informed the Conclave of what happened and checked in with my Falconer. She recommended that we go and wait for whoever attacked Vince to come back. The one thing we know is that they’re on a job… oh, and they might be some species that can turn into a vapor.”
“A Gaskyn?” she asked, staring at one of the cats who had emerged from under an overgrowth.
“What?” I said. “You know what they are?”
“I mean, I’ve heard about them, sure,” she said. “I know politicians use them all the time for their various nefarious causes.”
“So, they’re real?”
“Sure,” she said absently, kneeling and reaching out while rubbing two fingers together to get the cat’s attention. “I’ve only ever known one, but she came to the house once. I came home early from school… well, I was cutting school and neither of us expected the other to be there.
“Anyway, she tried to convince me that she was there for some cockamamie reason, but I knew that they were getting into some sketchy business. The next week, one of my girlfriends said that her dad’s office had been broken into and some files had been stolen. I didn’t confront my dad, it wasn’t my business or anything, but I definitely knew what happened.”
I stood there with my mouth open. “This is a species that I never heard of, the world-famous bounty hunter was trying to prove the existence of, and that you just met casually because you cut school one day.”
The cat wandered over and nuzzled against Imogen’s outstretched fingers.
Though she was speaking to me, she seemed elsewhere as she scratched the cat on the ground in front of her.
“Do you know anything about them?”
“The Gaskyn? Not anything more than what I said,” she answered absently. “I mean I can tell you that the woman was a bitch when I met her, but I don’t think that helps with the investigation at all.”
“It doesn’t,” I said and pressed my finger to my ear. “Ned, you got anything on this?”
“I was wondering how long it would take before you got to me,” he admonished. “And most of what I have are the kind of feltwork conspiracy theories that don’t do anybody any good. Up until a minute ago, if you had asked me, I would’ve told you that the Gaskyn were nothing more than an old wives’ tale.”
“From context, I’m guessing that means it wasn’t true?”
“Actually, the etymology of that phrase is not entirely clear, but it essentially means the kind of spurious thing that an old woman teaches the next generation,” he explained.
“So, the moral of the story is, you have no new information for me?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that,” he told me. “I was also listening to what Zenobia said, and I looked into Korfuu. While there was almost no information on the ghost, there was some information about a religious group that fled the planet after persecution, and guess where they ended up?”
I looked toward the wall. “Parm.”
“Got that right,” he said. “So, if some of those people are here, that might have been how the Ghost was hired.”
“Sounds like we have a lot more questions that we can ask Uncle Vince…”
“Assuming he’s still alive,” Ned answered ominously.
16
“You think it was a gas-man who’s after me?” Vince demanded when we explained what we learned back at his lavish estate.
“A Gaskyn,” I corrected.
“What-the-fuck-ever it is, there’s nothing that’s getting into this place,” the man asserted. “You don’t have a house on the surface of Parm without its security being tested daily. Ain’t nothing gets in here.”
“He got into a bounty hunter enclave,” Imogen said, her voice desperate. “And killed everyone there. These are not people who were easily defeated, and they were all nothing more than bodies. He cut a Kyrog’s head clean off.”
“Kiddo, I know you’re just looking out for me, but there are a dozen armed men between here and the street so, I don’t have anything to worry about,” he said.
“Mister Delfina, do you mind if we stay the night and make sure that’s true?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Knock yourselves out. I was just planning to do some paperwork over dinner and catch up on some tube before bed, but you can hang in my security office… or, better yet, why don’t you both join me for dinner, and you can watch the security cams once I go to sleep.”
I was about to tell him that we couldn’t possibly impose, but Imogen answered faster than I could. “That’s great. I’ve been stuck eating plop for years, and there’s very little that I miss more than the delicious food that I grew up eating.”
“Then you came to the right place,” he said with a smile, waving his hand in the direction of one of the many doors leading off from the room where we had met him.
As we traversed the mansion, my eyes hurt from all of the bright colors. The walls were painted a garish red and the furniture was all bright green with gold trim. And speaking of gold, there was enough of it to choke a Kyrog.
All of the paintings, of which there seemed to be dozens in each room, all were framed in thick gold leaf and every inch of trim and molding was painted bright gold. Chandeliers hung in each room we walked through, and sconces with electric candles lined the walls. Ornate carpets clashed with the artistic renditions of fruits and saints hanging in every available centimeter of space.
The dining room had some kind of cloth ceiling stretched toward a lighting fixture at the center in such a way that it gave the appearance of the inside of a clamshell. At the center was a large table made, of course, entirely of gold. Or, at the very least, it was gold plated.
The light in the room had to be somewhat dim, or the reflection would undoubtedly blind the people sitting to enjoy a meal.
“This place is so nice, I feel like I shouldn’t even be allowed in here dressed like I am,” I joked, though it was partially true.
When I was a boy, Mister Fiddler, the director of the orphanage, selected a handful of people to attend a small function at the home of the mayor of Bussel. Because he liked us and despite the fact that we were troublemakers, Fiddler had brought Lara and me to the dinner.
We had been cleaned up and given new clothes, but then, like now, I felt entirely out of place and too dirty to belong.
It was a weird sensation to be back in that place, and I couldn’t help but stare at where my boots were touching the rug that was worth more than the Buzzard.
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Vince said with a dismissive wave. “You’re an upright guy, and that means more to me than whatever rags you come in here wearing.”
I laughed. “Guess we’ll just have to take that in the spirit it was intended.”
“You do that,” Vince said, gesturing for us to join him at the long, glimmering table.
“How’s your arm?” I asked.
He put his hand on his shoulder and circled his arm like an athlete after a bad throw. “It will heal. I’ve had worse.”
“Uncle Vince,” Imogen said quietly. “You don’t seem nearly as concerned about this entire situation as I think you should be. We know that there’s a person coming here trying to kill you. A person who has already almost succeeded once.”
“‘Almost’ being the operative word,” he said. “You know what they say, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”
“You’ve been shot before?” I asked bluntly. Another door opened and more women in nothing but aprons appeared, this time holding trays with steak dinners on them.
“Oh, yes,” he said, obviously aware that he wore this fact as a badge of honor.
“You, too?”
“Sure have,” I answered. “Got gut shot so bad by a target that I nearly died.”
“I can do you one better,” he exclaimed, pointing a fork at me as the plate was set down in front of him. “I got shot in the neck.”
“I was tortured for over a year by a sadist,” Imogen said, and we both turned to her with our mouths agape. She gave the slightest hint of a smile, and Vince burst out laughing.
“Right, kiddo, you win forever,” he said, tilting his head down, the hanging light casting his eyes into shadow. “And I will never forgive myself for not helping you during your time there.”
“You didn’t know,” she said.
“It’s no excuse,” he shot back.
She slowly sawed through the piece of meat in front of her. “You are on the oversight committee. You thought you understood what the Inquisition was. You were wrong, but that doesn’t make you culpable.”
“Being blind to something that I am in charge of looking into does make me culpable,” he said, the anger in his words obviously directed at himself. “I think of you like my own, and to know that you were hurt… I can’t even…”
Imogen put down her silverware, then reached out and laid a hand on Vince’s. “You are helping now, that’s what matters. Don’t kick yourself for something you couldn’t have known. Just be proud that you are doing the right thing when asked.”
He nodded slowly, moving his right hand to drape over hers. Then he looked at me. “I hope you understand why I can’t act yet.”
I was midway through swallowing one of the tender pieces of meat that tasted more like butter than animal, and I raised my chin in acknowledgement.
“I wish it was different, too,” I admitted. “But I won’t pretend to know anything about politics.”
Vince took a sip of wine from what could only be described as a goblet. “I’ve been in politics my whole life. Groomed for it, and all that jazz. So, you’ll just have to take my word for it.”
“You’re the one taking a bigger risk,” I pointed out, “so I’m happy to take your word for it.”
“Sounds like you have been risking a lot to get this information out there,” he noted.
“We have,” I said, thinking back on everything. “I have been on the run, the only home I ever knew was destroyed, and people have been killed. I just keep telling myself that it’s worth it because we are saving the universe. That’s worth the risk… the price.”
The man’s eyes flared with understanding. “That’s why we do it. Public service is a thankless job. People hate you for what you do and for what you don’t do. They blame you when things go wrong but forget about you when things are working. You sacrifice yourself for them, but no one cares.”
The intensity with which he spoke was almost laughable. I could tell he believed his own words, but it was hard to take him seriously as he complained of self-sacrifice while sitting at a literal golden table that undoubtedly cost more than his constituents made in a lifetime.
Looking down at the food, I realized even that was a sign of pure wealth. Tender steak from a cow that might as well have been massaged all its life before being hugged to death, served beside vegetables that I knew only grew on one planet and most people wouldn’t even know the names of. And which I only did because of a speaker who had visited the orphanage.
She had been a kid like us, a lost soul, until she was taken in by a wealthy family. She spoke to us of how we could still have opportunities to make something of ourselves even if it felt hopeless. Most of the kids had scoffed and made jokes at her expense the moment she walked from the room, but it stuck with me, and even though Lutch was not a rich man, I felt as though I had hit the jackpot when he wanted to adopt me.
“It’s a noble thing he’s doing,” Ned said in my ear, bringing me back to reality, and again, I had to laugh to myself at his programming. He saw the world a certain way, and even when presented with reality would hardly break with what he thought.
“It’s a noble thing you’re doing,” I parroted, and Imogen fixed me with the side-eye that said everything. She obviously loved her uncle but wasn’t naïve about him.
“Thank you,” he said. “And the same goes for you.”
Imogen raised her water glass, and the two of us raised our wine glasses. I only took a small sip as I felt as though I had been drinking the whole day. And, honestly, the wine was too fine for my taste.
Logically, I knew it was expensive and “good,” but it wasn’t what I was used to or to my taste, so a sip served me just fine. And in the end, I would have happily taken a Bussel Brew over it.
On the other hand, I was happy to polish off the steak on my plate.
“Other than the abuse you suffered,” Vince began after dabbing his lips with a napkin, “what was the Inquisition like? The day-to-day of it. I would like to hear an honest assessment now that I know how false everything I have been told is.”
“I don’t really like to talk about it,” Imogen said quietly.
“I understand that, and I’m sorry, but it’s important,” he said in a tone that let her know he wasn’t going to drop it until she did.
“Okay,” she said, the movement of her hand wielding the knife getting more erratic. “It was a life of singular focus. It was like how my father’s life was solely focused on his political career or how mine had been focused on partying and fame.”
“Those are two things,” Ned noted, and I wished I could kick him under the table. Though something told me that if he had a body, he would be the type of person who would loudly ask why he had been kicked and made the moment even more awkward.
Imogen continued, lost in her own memory. And though I felt bad that she had to relive it, I was happy to be getting some insight into the Inquisition as well. It was something that I wanted to know more about. Since I was being hunted by the Inquisition, the more I understood them, the better.
“Initially, my days were divided between studying and quizzing. I would read history and ideology from the moment I woke until the second he walked in, brandishing some implement of pain. He would have me present this body part or that and begin to ask me questions.
“Even if I knew the answer, the threat of pain would often cause me to get it wrong. And when I did, I would be hurt for it. And in addition to the pain, I would receive a lecture about how my flesh was one of the things that made me human, that made me better than the people we were hunting.”
She paused, slicing through her meat with a sharp strike, and I watched Vince watch her, studying her reactions. For someone who had been shot earlier in the day and knew his life was in danger, he certainly didn’t seem to be focused on that at all.
“But what’s so dumb is that I grew to hate my own flesh and wish that I had the protections he so hated. And all the things I learned were only on the surface. I know some of what he beat into me is still there, but I can hardly recall it,” she said, her voice hard and angry.
Ned whispered so as not to be heard in the utterly silent room. “The brain tends to suppress the traumatic, and John Gregory used a long-outmoded form of education. In the service, we would use endorphins to solidify memories during training, but we haven’t used corporal punishment for an age.”
“Ask me what year the Inquisition was founded,” she said, fixing me with a piercing gaze.
“What year was the Inquisition founded?”
“I don’t remember, and I don’t give a fuck,” she snarled. “All that he put me through was for nothing. It was pointless and made me hate his cause. But I still had to enact it. I still had to go with him and kick down doors. I had to watch as we stole parents from their children, kids from their mothers, and spouses from their partners. And all for what? Because they used some technology to save their life, or because they wanted to be better at a job, or just because they wanted to be able to hold a can of soda.
“Of course, we went after some genuinely bad people, too. But for every one of those, there were a dozen people who made a choice to do something illegal because it was better for them. And we would hurt all of them. The suffering I endured was nothing compared to what we put others through.
“I’ve seen people tortured in ways I could never have imagined because we wanted to find the next person in the line of dominoes. For every augment, there was somebody who installed it, and then someone who made it, and then someone who had the idea to create it, and on and on forever.
“And for everyone’s head we cut off, two more would appear. Because, it turns out, making something illegal doesn’t make it any less desirable. And that was the utter stupidity of his zealotry. The Inquisitor believed in his heart, in his “flawlessly human heart” that we were after the eradication of evil, but he didn’t see how flawed that was.
“So we would chase down leads, not too dissimilar from what Hank, here, does as a bounty hunter, but then we would not enforce some law or code, we would just rip people from their lives and then torture them until they died.”
She looked right at Vince. “That’s what the Inquisition truly is.”
“Absolute power and all that,” Ned offered, but Vince stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, au jus dripping down his knife.
“You’ve given me more insight into the real workings of the Inquisition than I’ve gotten in years from the Inquisitors themselves. Hell, I even meet with the head of the Inquisition, herself and all I get is bullplop justifications for whatever I’ve most recently seen on the news. Like when that celebrity got taken in.”
I could see the wheels in his mind turning and knew that we had made ourselves an ally in more than just getting our message out there. Vince and the Parliamentarians at his disposal were not only going to help us get our message out but also battle the Inquisition. This was going to be a huge boon.
Of course, that was only if the man survived the night.
This became slightly less likely when, a few minutes later, gunshots rang out from the front of the residence.
