The Lostkind (65 page)

"I'm... looking for Tecca." Connie said carefully.

Martha swallowed. "Is... is there a problem?"

Connie glanced up and down the hallway. "May I come in please?"

Martha tensed and shut the door swiftly.

Connie knocked again, leaning closer to the door so she didn't have to shout. "Martha, I know that Tecca is not really your son. I know that you bring him to the Clinic for his check-ups, and that he pays you not to ask questions."

The door opened again, only as far as the chain. Martha looked out at Connie, saying nothing. "How do you know that?"

Connie looked at her sympathetically. "Because he told me." She said softly. "I need to find Tecca. Do you... when he needs a mother; does he call you? Do you know how to reach him?"

Martha's face softened. "I have four kids of my own in here... and I can't afford half of them. Not in New York. And I can't afford to move. Tecca keeps me in groceries. Every time he calls me; my kids eat. You think I'm going to make that harder?"

"I'm not Protective Services, I'm not the police." Connie promised swiftly. "I just need to talk to Tecca. Do you ever, for any reason, contact him?"

"No." Martha said after a moment. "He comes to me. I have no idea where he goes after that."

Connie sighed, not surprised. "Fine. Thank you for your time."

She turned to go, and the door opened fully behind her. Martha stepped out into the hallway. "My youngest found a cat in a dumpster once." She said suddenly. "Poor thing was frozen, nearly dead. He brought it into the house, fed it, kept it warm, nursed it back to health."

Connie had paused, giving Martha her full attention. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. After six months of living in this house, eating food from my kids fingers, sleeping in our laps, curling up with them on stormy nights... my kid decided to make it official. He bought a collar, and tried to put it around kitty's neck. That cat drew blood in so many places it wasn't funny, and dove out the window. We didn't see it again for a month."

Connie nodded to show she understood; but didn't get the point.

"Ferals are like that." Martha said. "They survive that way. There ain't never been a hand offering them a treat, without the other hand waiting with a knife or a collar. You can't change that; and you try, you get clawed." Martha spread her hands wide, honestly trying to break the bad news to her gently. "You can try, but a Feral will eat your food, sleep in your home, accept your love; but they will never accept it if you try to keep them caged."

Connie swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "Tecca's not Feral. He's just... lost."

"Ain't nothing unusual about that." Martha said simply. "Good luck to you."

Connie turned to go, then looked back. "Miss Cameron?" She asked. "You said you didn't see the cat for a month. What happened after that? Did it ever come back?"

"Yep. Tecca traded us a solid gold money clip for the little hairball. He said he would give it a good home with someone he knew."

Merlin
. Connie thought lightly, and nodded a goodbye.

~oo00oo~

Keeper was smiling; but so still that Yasi thought she was sleeping. As she crept over to kneel beside her mothers cot; Keeper spoke up warmly. "I can hear the celebration from in here." She commented.

"We have a lot to celebrate." Yasi agreed.

"How bad was it?"

"Some of the ropelines are cut; some more of the doorways were busted up. The Bazaar is a mess; but our casualties in the rebellion were fairly light. Neither side really wanted to damage the place; just each other."

"Dorcan tells me that there's a bunch of Shinobi looking for the hero of the hour." Keeper challenged. "You sent Vincent away?"

"For his protection." Yasi defended. "He threatened to expose the Underside. It wasn't a bluff like everyone thinks; and if you've spoken to Dorcan, you know that."

"Protection?"

"Over a dozen trained swordsmen know he was going to do it!" Yasi insisted.

Keeper looked calmly at her daughter. "That same dozen people? They keep bigger secrets than this; and you know it." She paused to let that sink in. "Vincent's involvement in Vandark's plans were minimal. He told Vincent his entire strategy. Put me in a position where I had to make an impossible choice over the protection of my Lostkind; which he did. Put Archivist in a position to chose between himself and the history of the place, which worked exactly as planned. And then challenge you directly; which is exactly what he did. We knew his plan; start to finish, and it still played out exactly the way Vandark intended it. The one thing he didn't plan for was Vincent McCall."

"No." Yasi smiled softly; conceding that.

"You're smiling!" Keeper pounced.

Yasi wiped the smirk off her face; far too late. "I..." She hesitated. "Keep, he
broke
the rules."

"You saying that because that's the end of it; or because you don't want to admit you might be a little
too
inflexible about it?"

"If I was going to start making exceptions; I should have started long before Vincent."

"I know. I know. Yasi; you've protected this place a long time. But for someone born in a Secret world; you are disturbingly Black and White." Keeper reached out and gripped her daughter's wrist. "If you were that sure; why'd you let him leave?"

Yasi was silent; unable to answer that.

Keeper nodded. "You tipped your hand Yasi. You never hesitate; and now you're hesitating." The older woman paused. "Yasi... You're a great fighter; a great tactician, a great teacher. But you don't let people in; and that tends to put people off you. Sometimes that's good for your reputation as a warrior. But sometimes; it gives your best warriors a reason to abandon their posts when they hear trouble is coming. That kind of detachment makes you able to accuse your oldest friend after many years of allegiance. You want loyalty? You have to
show
loyalty. Vincent McCall had less reason to be on your side than anyone; and he came back anyway."

Yasi looked down at that. "Yeah. Yeah he did."

Keeper sighed. "So if you wanted to keep the secrets in the family and make it all nice and neat; I suppose we could just... recruit him."

Yasi looked up at her mother swiftly; hope in her eyes. "Yeah?" It was the perfect solution; making him part of the tribe; bringing all their secrets back into their own fold. "Was this... Dorcan's idea, or yours?"

"Dorcan... is a quality human being." Keeper said seriously. "And he doesn't need
you
to tell him that any more."

Yasi bit her lip; tempted. "What about Vincent's friends?"

"Who's to say he told them anything?" Keeper coughed a little. "All this is assuming, of course, that Vincent would say yes."

Her mother was giving her blessing and permission; without actually saying it; like she always did. Yasi fought to hide her smile. "Hey, I guess I could ask him?"

Keeper snorted. "Mm."

~oo00oo~

Vincent had made it as far as the Subway. He had slipped onto the platform from a maintenance closet. The payphones were the first thing he'd seen; and he called Connie to tell her the rest of the story. She agreed it was a great tale; but she was in the middle of a mission of her own; so the conversation was brief. He didn't have a ticket, but he knew he'd never be able to sit still at home. So without even looking to see where he was going; he boarded the first train that stopped.

After a while; he gave up on wandering the city and checked the Subway map; figuring out which stop was his... and how he would get out of the station without a ticket; or money to buy one.

He turned away from the map… and felt his jaw drop open.

In the same long coat she was wearing the night they had met; Yasi was waiting, leaning against the pole without holding it, and was having no trouble balancing as the subway train sped them through New York. She tilted her chin to the subway map. "What are you working on?" She asked softly, with the sound of whiskey and promise in her voice. "Whatever it is, it must be far too interesting if you hadn't noticed me trying to make eye contact for the whole ride." She had a small smile on her face.

Vincent didn't hesitate to stride up the length of the almost-empty carriage, and they both leaned in for a passionate kiss. It was a kiss that had been building off and on for three years. It was long and slow and sweet and said all the things neither of them could find words for, until the need for oxygen made them break. They stayed close together, arms around each other. For the first time, Vincent realized she was actually a tiny bit taller than him, but she rested her chin on his shoulder a moment, facing into his neck.

One or two people on the carriage looked over at them; smirking a little; but most barely noticed. To them, it was just one of the millions of stories that began and ended every day in New York City.

~oo00oo~

Owen looked up as the hatch to the Oubliette was raised, revealing a familiar face looking down at him. "Vincent."

Vincent wasn't smiling. "Owen."

Silence.

"Well." Owen said finally. "Here we are again."

Vincent nodded. "Vandark is dead."

"I figured." Owen said without emotion. "It… He's not the sort of person that you can picture as actually being defeated. He's just too… big. Know what I mean?"

"I do." Vincent confirmed. "That why you followed him?"

Owen shook his head. "I… stumbled onto the Lostkind on a vacation in Europe. Vandark brought me in and explained the facts of the real world to me; like Yasi did for you. I've said it how many times? I wasn't a warrior, or a big time hero. But this place… This place can make heroes out of invisible men. People like us don't get noticed. We go through our world without anyone being aware of us, and we are glad for that… Vandark made an offer: Work for him, be invisible, rule like a king and have nobody know."

Vincent nodded. "A certain appeal, I must admit. But it's the wrong way to be."

"Is it?" Owen challenged. "It worked for you. You're like me: Not a warrior, not famous; just making your way in the world and going unnoticed, and you never minded that fact. Look at you now; savior of the New York Underside. You got the result I had hoped to get for myself."

Vincent smirked a bit. "Guess I did."

Owen's head tilted. "Why did you come here?"

"To save the Underside."

"No, not that: Why'd you come to see me?"

"Oh." Vincent rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I never really… I rehearsed this plan in my head a thousand times; but I never really… I don't have a clue what to do now. I planned it out, but never thought about what to do afterward."

"You could make a really nice gesture and let me out of here?" Owen suggested hopefully.

"I think not."

Silence.

"What's going to happen to me?" Owen asked finally.

Vincent shook his head. "I talked to Yasi. She had a few interesting ideas."

Owen let out a mirthless, doomed laugh. "I think I can guess."

"I managed to convince her that Vandark was the real enemy, and as it happens… He had enemies in many places."

Owen was confused for a moment before it hit him. "Berlin."

"Yasi's working on having you and the others shipped there; but it'll probably take a while to organize."

Owen looked up at him sharply. "Others?"

"A few of the Wildmen decided to go down swinging rather than surrender. They got their wish. The rest are in the Dungeons with you. Nobody's seen the Riverfolk since the battle ended. Some bright spark had the good sense to drop the razor nets back into place before they realized there was nobody coming from Above."

"It was a hell of a bluff." Owen admitted. "I may have to rethink your prowess at the poker table."

Vincent was silent for a moment. "It wasn't a bluff." He confessed. "If I died down here, Gill would have exposed the whole place. If I couldn't save the Underside from Vandark, I could at least make sure he didn't play Kingmaker over all New York."

Owen couldn't help the glimmer of respect in his eye. "Well. Looks like you won." He said finally. "I think that… If I had to do it over again; I would go to the West Side and pick up some bagels."

~oo00oo~

There was a party in the Underground. Fire-Dancers, circus acrobats swinging back and forth on the repaired ropelines. The wonderful electric atmosphere of the Underside came back with full force, as though the excitement had been building up the entire time Vandark was there; now let loose again, unrestrained.

Everyone knew that Vincent was not one of the Lostkind, but they had all heard his voice coming from the Whisper Gallery; leaving him in a hard to define, but easy to appreciate position among the general population.

Here and there, a few party-goers were staggering their way along to the Labyrinth. The entire population was either shouting, smiling, singing, dancing or drinking.