The Bone Triangle (43 page)

I was only glad I’d been knocked out in the ensuing wreck. I was at least spared the painful memory of watching him die.

My thoughts returned to the here and now. By the time the memory of Tony’s death had played out in my mind, the door into the Sunset had closed behind me. There was no handle on the outside. It was just a blank rectangle of gray-painted steel.

I beat on the door, ignoring the security camera. Then I realized I still had the sunglasses on. I formed claws with my fingers and weakened the metal around the latch. It groaned, then tore open.

There, standing in the stairwell in front of me, was McKesson. He had his pistol in one hand and my talisman in the other.

I reached for my bottle, but hesitated, realizing he was immune to the radiation it emitted. He had my talisman dangling from his hand.

“Time to let it go, Draith,” he said.

I pulled at my hair. “She made me murder my friend. I should have brought the Beast back. I should have ridden its back while it ate her.”

McKesson nodded seriously. “Not a bad plan. But we both made a deal. She kept her part of it.”

“Why are you helping her?” I demanded. “Let me go up there and kill her. What’s it to you?”

He looked troubled and glanced up the stairway. He gestured for me to back up, and I did so, reluctantly. He came out into the sunshine, the painfully bright sunshine, and the door closed behind him. It didn’t sound like it was in perfect working condition. It screeched as its springs dragged it shut.

McKesson started walking down the sidewalk, and I fell in beside him. I thought about attacking him but restrained myself. He was here to help—or at least, I assumed he was.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I demanded.

He shrugged. “I arrested you for murder the first night we met, didn’t I?”

“How could you know what I did, and still let me run around with you? Didn’t you think Meng might have me still? That she might order me to kill you?”

“I wasn’t stealing from the Community. I was working for them. Just like you. I was around to stop invaders. You were used to keep people in line.”

I remembered then that there had been others. I’d been an assassin more than once. I’d been good at it.

“Meng’s a monster,” I said.

“Yeah. But she usually just ran the agents. She passed down the orders; she didn’t write them.”

“Who does?”

“People you haven’t met yet. People I’ve never even seen.”

I heaved a sigh. “Give me back my talisman,” I said.

He handed it over reluctantly. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid now, are you?”

“Not today. I’ve got to think about this.”

He walked me to where a red Mercedes was waiting. Jacqueline was driving, and she looked worried.

McKesson shook my hand as I got into it. “You aren’t the same man you were back then, Draith. You’ve changed. You didn’t have to risk your own neck to drag me out of the belly of the Beast. I won’t forget that.”

I nodded, and Jacqueline drove me away toward the center of town.

She kept looking at me worriedly as we cruised along. “Are you okay?” she asked finally.

I managed to summon a smile. “Yeah. Let’s go shopping.”

That brightened her mood. She drove faster, and I felt the wind on my face. I worked to push away the memories I’d wanted so badly. Many of them weren’t good. I could recall being a kid now, back in Mercury. I’d had some good times, but my parents had vanished one day, and others had taken care of me. Meng had been my part-time guardian and had treated me like some kind of lab rat that had turned into a pet by accident.

I understood now, as I thought about it, why Trujillo had tried to kill me when I’d identified myself. He knew an assassin when he met one.

All that day, while I paid overdue bills and bought whatever Jacqueline wanted, I thought about how the future would be different. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s puppet from now on.

The End

Photograph © Alma Larson, 2011

B. V. Larson is the best-selling author of over twenty novels. Writing in several genres, most of his work is fantastic in nature and spans from Military Science Fiction to Epic Fantasy. As a West Coast native, B. V. Larson’s stories often take place on sunny beaches and in cities such as Las Vegas. He has three kids living at home and currently teaches college. He writes college textbooks as well as fiction.

For more information check out the author’s website:
BVLarson.com
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