Rip

Emotion clogged my throat mixing with the disgust and anger already present. I had to look away. “Just, be happy Andi, and if you need anything, ever…”

“There’s one thing,” Andi piped up.

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”

“Because you won’t. Always trust your gut, Nik.”

I rolled my eyes in an attempt to get her to blurt out the favor rather than concentrate on my many sins or the way the Pakhan,r her father, still held me by the balls. “What is it Andi?”

“Come to my funeral.”

“Andi!”

“What? It’s only fair, I invite you to my wedding, and you’re really the only true family I have.” Guilt gnawed at the center of my chest. That wasn’t true. She had a sister, she’d just never met her. “Please? I need mother Russia present.”

“Fine.” I licked my lips forcing myself to smile when all I really wanted to do was anything but promise her that I would be at the funeral. I lived for death, it had never bothered me, until her. “I’ll do it.”

“Great, and Nik?”

“Hmm?”

“She must be really pretty.”

“Damn mind-reader.” I muttered pulling out a short glass and pouring whiskey into it. I was at work. Drinking. Something that, while in medical school, was clearly preached against, not that I was practicing surgery right that moment. My hands shook, making the drink in my hand nearly tip over the glass. With a curse I threw back the entire contents and called Sergio back.

“Sergio?” I barked into the phone.

He was silent for a few seconds and then. “She’s gone.”

Hollow, his voice was so hollow, like his world had stopped functioning properly, then again, how does the world continue its turn? Without the sun to lead it, the moon to follow?

“My offer.” I licked my lips, tasting the sweet whisky still caked along them. “It still stands.” A few months ago I’d told him I’d make him forget in the only way I knew how—he didn’t know it at the time but it was like a handshake, a gift, an offer of service, gratitude, loyalty.

Sergio sighed heavily. “Russians.”

“So?”

“I’d rather feel…” he whispered.  “Because that means it happened. And she deserves to be remembered in the most raw way possible. So, today, my answer is no. Tomorrow, my answer? It will still be no.”

“If you’re sure.”

“She wanted you at the funeral.”

“I know.” I cleared my throat. It did nothing to keep the sadness dripping from my voice. “I’ll make arrangements.”

The line went dead.

I tossed the phone onto the counter and wiped my hands over my face as the choking sensation of loss washed over me.

Andi, the only friend I’d ever known, the daughter to one of my most hated enemies, the daughter to the man who held so much of the world in his hands, was gone forever.

I glanced over at the closed door. Maya was on the other side, oblivious to the fact that the world would forever be a bit darker without her sister in it.

I didn’t want to have that conversation.

I wasn’t ready for it yet. Would I ever be ready?

There were still so many secrets I was keeping from her, so many loose ends that I was having trouble remembering what to keep close and what to share. She made it impossible for me to distance myself.

And that’s what I needed to do.

She’d cracked her knuckles.

Stupid of me, at such a young age, to give her such a tell, but completely necessary.

“When you feel the memories return… simply crack your knuckles and they’ll be nothing but a fleeting thought. Do you understand me?”

Maya blinked hard, her eyes glassy. “No.”

I held the knife to her wrist and cut slowly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

“No.” She choked out. “It feels.”

“Freeing.” I answered for her. “As it should. Now, what happens when you crack your knuckles?”

Her eyes darted back and forth, unable to focus on any one thing for too long. “I…” She blinked again. “It means… it means I’m remembering but, I don’t know what.”

“You’re remembering how much you love ice cream.”

She nodded. “Yes… vanilla.”

“You love vanilla.”

Cursing, I pushed the memory away and stood, made sure to glance in the mirror. Every dark piece of hair was in place, my crisp black suit was tailored to perfection, my blue striped shirt buttoned in all the right places, but my eyes.

They were, as always, soulless. And today, of all days, I was bothered by that. Because it was just another reminder that the world wasn’t fair.

That a man like me should be allowed to live.

When people like Andi were taken too soon.

Nothing about it was fair.

I clenched my fists. This was why I was working so hard to save Maya, why I signed that damn contract with her father, why I was fighting my ass off to keep her at a distance.

So when the time came.

The darkness didn’t become her prison.

But her freedom.

Pier Killer still at large even though no killings have been reported in a week. –The Seattle Tribune

THAT MORNING I QUICKLY LEARNED SOMETHING about Nikolai—he had multiple personalities. No really, it was the only explanation as to why, when the elevator doors opened, what was once a commanding and terrifying individual took a plant from an elderly receptionist and watered it.

Right, he watered it.

I would have laughed had it been fu

I half expected him to start kissing babies and giving away free puppies.

He calmly—and, mother of all shocks—patiently described what I’d be doing during the day in the office next door to his.

Research.

And then, like he had multiple personalities, he just… snapped. With his cell phone in hand he glanced down, paled, then fired off instructions about being worth what he was paying me.

“The newest strains of STDs.” He threw a file onto my desk. “Study the information collected and research about possible cures.”

He had started to sweat.

Then nearly stumbled into the wall as he made his way to that weird secret door and slammed it behind him.

My heart was hammering so hard against my chest as an uncomfortable silence descended. What was he doing?

I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat, because, he wasn’t just weird, he was, completely unpredictable.

I pressed my hands firmly on the large oak desk and eyed the Keurig to my left. Well, I at least knew how to make coffee. I could do that. Having no idea when he was going to be popping out of his weird super villain room, I made two cups set one on his desk and brought mine over to my chair and began pouring over the folders.

Ten minutes after his weird outburst, Nikolai emerged through the door, his stance rigid, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Ignoring me, he walked briskly to his desk stared at the cup of coffee I’d made with a frown clouding his features.

Anxiety washed over me. Was the coffee a bad idea?

“What’s this?” He pointed at it, his eyebrows drawn together in what looked like utter disbelief.

“Coffee,” I said boldly. “Some people need it in order to function, but being who you are, I wasn’t sure if you actually needed anything other than blood and the souls of virgins to make it through the day, so I took a gamble.”