Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love (36 page)

Evans went to the closet and opened the door.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, gagging as the smell rolled over him. He
quickly shut the door and turned to Maddi. "She really is one sick
bitch," he said. Maddi, exhausted from pain, giggled at the
sentiment expressed in a crisp British accent. Evans smiled,
understanding.

"How is he?" Evans asked Maxwell.

"Badly dehydrated, blood sugar low from lack
of food. Both knee caps and joints are completely shattered tendons
and ligaments torn. Nothing that can't be repaired surgically. No
concussion, though there's a lump on the back of his head. Blood
shows Prozine; however, the medication isn't having much effect,"
the medic answered.

"Can you do anything more for the pain?"
Evans asked. "We'll get him to hospital, but he shouldn't have to
suffer any more than he already has."

"I can safely dose him with morphine, but
he'll lose consciousness. Will that be a problem, sir?" Maxwell
asked.

"Not at all, Maxwell. Maddox, I'm taking you
to a private hospital. They'll get you back in shape," Evans said.
At Maddi's worried look, he added, "No questions will be asked and
the costs are covered."

Maddi sighed and relaxed, partly from the
news and partly from the narcotic hitting his system. Maxwell
gently picked him up and began carrying him out of the room. He
grabbed at Evans' arm and Maxwell stopped. "Edgar?" Maddi
asked.

"Yes," Evans answered. "He's funded your
rescue."

"Give him a message," Maddi slurred, eyes
fluttering.

Evans leaned closer to hear Maddi's whisper
before the boy lost consciousness.

The team followed Maxwell out to the
transport, now parked in front of Ridgely's house. Evans gave
Laureth a quick look and she answered his silent question, "In the
trunk, out cold."

He smiled and issued his final order before
departing for the hospital. "Alvarez, trigger a system overload and
burn this nightmare down." Alvarez gave a thumb's up from the rear
of the transport and began typing.

As the transport rounded the corner, the
night sky blossomed orange and yellow as Ridgely's house
exploded.

Seven-sixteen A.M

Evans paced the private consult room at
Arandia, the city's most exclusive hospital. This was not a place
for general healing; Arandia catered only to the ultra-rich,
handling medical issues their patients would prefer not leak out to
gossips. At the moment, Evans was catering to his own ultra-rich
client as Edgar ranted on the other end of the comm.

"...dare you do this to me, Evans! I pay you
a metric shit-ton of money and you send me off on a wild goose
chase, ignoring my express orders! I'm capable of more than you
know and if it wasn't for the fact that you're equally as
well-connected, I'd literally have your head on a platter! As it
is, you'll be getting your official termination notice later today,
you bastard!"

Edgar paused to take a breath and Evans
stepped into the silence. "If you'd calm your ass down and listen
instead of bellowing like a damn fool, you might just fucking learn
something, Edgar! Now shut it and let me explain!" The barrister's
voice thundered in the small room and he knew, even though the comm
would modulate the volume on Edgar's end, that the other man got
the point.

Once again, Evans' outburst caught Edgar off
guard. "Go on," he said, still angry.

"That's better, dammit," Evans said. "First
off, I told you why you weren't coming on the rescue mission. Since
I knew you'd be too fucking stubborn to listen, I gave you bogus
intel. Trust me, the team I led is the best in business and we had
no room for amateurs.

Second, Maddox is at Arandia in stable
condition. He's had both knees reconstructed and is currently
meeting with a psy'er, poor kid. I can't stand those creepy
bastards, but after the trauma he endured, it was better than
letting him process it on his own. Faster, too. Finally, we need to
see each other later today; I want to introduce you to our Miss
Campbell before she exits this world."

Edgar, pacing while he listened to Evans,
fell into his desk chair, speechless. After a few moments, Evans'
voice came over the comm, "Are you still there?"

"I... I'm here, Evans," Edgar stammered.
"Just a little shocked, is all. You're telling me Maddi is safe and
you led the mission?"

"You youngsters," Evans chuckled. "You think
you invented adventure! I was doing shit like this when your father
was crapping his nappies. And yes, Maddox is safe and well-cared
for, Edgar. He's an amazing young man. You can see him later today.
I'm given to understand the mind-creeper will be done with him by
then."

"I don't know what to say, Evans," Edgar
replied, shaking his head. "I didn't think my dapper barrister had
it in him to do something like this; frankly, you've surprised the
shit out of me!"

"Will wonders never cease!" Evans laughed.
"Of course, you could start by saying, 'I'm sorry I've been such an
impertinent shit,' followed by, 'Thank you!', but that's just
me."

Edgar laughed. "You're right, Evans. I have
been an 'impertinent shit' and I'm sorry. I'm also grateful as hell
you saved Maddi. At least now he'll be able to have the life he
deserves. So. Changing track; when do I to meet Miss Campbell and
how well sound-proofed is her room? She and I have many things to
discuss and I wouldn't want the neighbors calling Security."

It was Evans' turn to pause, a bit shocked
that Edgar wanted to go through with Campbell's elimination. "I can
assure you she's quite secure and no one would hear it if you set
off a bomb in that room. Are you certain you have the guts for this
type of thing? Anger and the heat of the moment is one thing, but
actually killing a person is quite different from what you read or
see in movies."

Edgar snorted. "Apparently, we've both
misjudged each other, Evans. Maybe someday we'll share stories, but
suffice to say this bitch won't be my first."

"Hmmm. I'd say we have underestimated each
other, Edgar, my boy. If you're really serious, meet me at
two-thirty; I'm sending the address. Oh, and don't be too obvious,
will you? It's not your usual type of venue."

"Understood. I'll wear the old Armani then,"
Edgar quipped and the barrister chuckled. "I owe you one, Evans.
That you put your ass on the line for Maddi is above and beyond the
call. I won't forget it; nor are you fired."

"How gratifying," came the dry retort. "Thank
you, Edgar; I appreciate it. For the record, you actually owe me
five hundred thousand, plus Maddox' medical expenses."

"Deal," chuckled Edgar. "See you this
afternoon."

"Yes, sir," Evans said. "End call."

Two-twenty-five P.M.

Edgar's rented transport dropped him a couple
blocks from the address Evans sent, per the barrister's
instructions. He paid the transport and declined to schedule a
return time, also per instructions.

Man, Evans wasn't kidding! This area looks
like the old warehouse district back when I was a kid. Then again,
I guess you don't book a suite at the Ritz-Carlton if you wanna off
somebody and not get noticed.

He waited until the transport was out of
sight before walking briskly toward what turned out to be an actual
abandoned warehouse. The building, indeed the whole area, was
something of an anomaly in the 2-4. Unless, of course, the owner
was purposely keeping it run down; say, a wealthy barrister with a
penchant for under-the-table operations, for instance.

He arrived at the agreed-upon entrance to
find yet another surprise. Evans, dressed head-to-toe in a black
bodysuit, was leaning against the door, a formidable-looking gun in
a shoulder holster. The barrister dropped his hand from the gun's
butt as he saw it was Edgar rounding the corner.

"Expecting someone else?" Edgar asked.

"No, but one can never be too sure," Evans
replied, an uncharacteristic smile brightening his usually blank
face. "Follow me." He opened the door and stepped into a well-lit
space, only a quarter the size of the old building. Edgar followed
and closed the door behind him.

"Nice place," Edgar commented, "if you're
filming a slasher flick."

"What? You expected the Ritz for this?" Evans
joked, knowing Edgar well-enough to know that he'd be thinking in
those terms.

"No, not at all," Edgar replied, grinning.
"I'm guessing you own this little slice of heaven? That's the only
reason I can think of that it would still be run down these days;
someone has to want it that way."

"Precisely," Evans nodded. "Let's just say
it's convenient to have such a place for certain activities."

Edgar declined to pursue that particular line
of thought, believing that sometimes less was better. Instead, he
looked around and his gaze fell upon Mariposa Campbell, bound to
the chair in which she sat. He looked at Evans, his expression
hardening. "You may want to step out for this," he said.

"And miss the fun? Not a chance! Shall
we?"

"Your decision," Edgar said and walked toward
Campbell, Evans close behind.

"Edgar Aeternum, may I present Miss Mariposa
Campbell, aka Miss Serina Jarvis. She led quite the chase, I must
say, but in the end we got her."

"Cocky old bastard!" Campbell spat. "Untie me
and you won't be so..."

Before she could finish the sentence, Edgar
stepped forward and backhanded her hard enough to knock over her
chair. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up," he said coldly. "He is the last
person on this planet you need to worry about right now, you
butchering bitch!"

Both Campbell and Evans were silent, stunned
by Edgar's actions and attitude. He reached down and hefted
Campbell, chair and all, upright before he continued. "You've had
your fun at the expense of an innocent young man. Now, it's my
turn. You're such an art aficionado, you should really be able to
appreciate what I have planned."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled
out an old-style switchblade, flipping it open with skill even
Evans had to appreciate. Campbell's eyes went wide with surprise,
but she quickly recovered. "Big bad rich boy! So you can slap me
around, but you don't have the balls to play in my league," she
said and spat at Edgar's feet.

Evans, meanwhile, leaned back against a
support beam watching Edgar with curiosity and newfound
admiration.

Edgar moved closer to Campbell, ignoring the
wad of sputum on his shoe. He grabbed the woman's hair and jerked
her head back so she had to look him in the face. "Well, aren't you
just the fucking special snowflake? You don't know how wrong you
are, but you're about to find out." With that comment, he made a
fast move with the blade and Campbell screamed as the tip of her
nose hit the floor.

"Surprised, bitch?" he hissed. "Bet you don't
like it on the other end, do you?" She stopped screaming, but
otherwise didn't answer. "I asked you a question," Edgar said. "You
don't like it, do you?" and he grabbed her bleeding nose with his
free hand and squeezed hard. Her shrieks echoed off the walls and
Evans stood straight, hands behind his back, unable to take his
eyes off the scene unfolding before him.

Edgar released her nose only to punch her,
full force, in the face. Her head snapped back and her eyes rolled
back briefly. "Tell me, did it feel good when you hurt Maddox? Oh,
still not talking? No worries; I really only need you to listen.
And eventually die." The blade flashed so fast Evans almost missed
it and Campbell again fell to fits of shrieking. Edgar turned from
her to Evans and held up the knife, the woman's left eyeball
impaled on its tip. "Still think I'm an amateur?" he asked the man.
Then he turned back to Campbell, who was once again in control of
herself. "And you? Still think I don't have the balls to waste
you?"

Her response came in the form of another
well-aimed lugey, this one mixed with blood, which landed on
Edgar's other shoe. Evans' reply was more dignified as he said,
"Well, my boy. It seems I grossly misjudged your abilities. It
won't happen again."

"I'm only warming up," Edgar said. "You might
want to pull up a chair; this is going to take a while," Edgar
said, turning back to Campbell. Fear shone in her eye for the first
time and he began creating his own work of art.

An hour later, Evans did pull up a chair as
Edgar was still working. Evans reevaluated his opinion of Edgar for
the eighth time as the man took a stim injector from his pocket and
shot Campbell full of enough stimulants to keep her conscious even
though her face now closely resembled a poorly-carved jack
o'lantern. Coagulant spray prevented the woman from bleeding out.
Edgar didn't seem to tire, either of his work or of berating the
now-tongueless Mariposa Campbell.

At hour two, not even the stim could keep
Campbell conscious; even to Evans, no stranger to cruelty, she
looked more like a side of beef than a human being. Realizing she
could no long be made to suffer for her crimes, Edgar slit her
throat with a move so smooth, Evans knew it wasn't the first time
he'd used it. The blood spurted freely and, without ceremony,
Mariposa Campbell shuffled off the mortal coil.

Edgar leaned against the beam opposite Evans'
chair and looked at the barrister. The respect in the man's eyes
was unmistakable. Evans spoke first. "Edgar, I stand corrected. I
owe you an apology for underestimating you. Most of my clients talk
a good game, but when it comes down to it, they're nothing more
than talk. I'm sorry. I don't know how you came by such... skill
and I won't ask. Perhaps, as you put it, we'll share stories
someday. I'm not an easy man to impress, but look at you: Covered
in blood and after two hours, you're not even breathing hard. From
one professional to another, you've earned my respect."