Indefinite Renewal Read online

  “Put down the gun, Linda.” The gun wavered, and then dropped to her side, and in that instant Daniel was on her, fury etched across his face as he reached out to clasp her by the throat. Nick could sense the start of energy flowing, and interposed himself, strong hands pulling his father away from the struggling woman.

  “NO!” Daniel paused at his outburst, but the look he sent him was full of both anger and arrogance, wounded pride at being held off by a mere mortal, and he refused to be stopped. Nick stepped closer and grabbed his father’s jaw, wrenching it around until their eyes met.

  “Leave her alone!” He commanded, and could almost feel the return to normality as the older man released her from both his grasp and his influence.

  “Go home,” Nick commanded him then, abandoning any hopes of subtlety. “I’ll come by later, and we’ll settle things then.”

  “Let me have her,” Daniel insisted, but his tone was that of a small boy begging for a piece of candy. “Give her to me.”

  “No,” Nick replied firmly, and with that his father turned and headed for the door, leaving the bag and its contents behind. He walked out without a backward glance, and after the door had slammed shut Nick returned to studying the terrified woman before him.

  “Now, my dear detective,” he muttered, half to himself, “what is to be done with you?” But he already knew what he had to do, and, with a slight grimace of distaste, he did it. Perhaps it was a mark of his growing proficiency in such matters that it only seemed to take a minute to accomplish, and far less effort than any of his previous attempts. Afterwards he sat by himself for a while, there on the couch, collecting his thoughts, and the empty walls mocked him with their bland silence.

  Finally he collected himself enough to move, and stood up, determined to at least get out of the offending room and into one of the less incriminating quarters of the little apartment. With that in mind he wandered into the kitchen, in the hopes of soothing the sudden rawness in his throat with something less inappropriately festive than the dregs of the champagne. His quest for refreshment was forgotten, however, by the interruption of a rude light glaring on and off from the side of the table. There was a message on the answering machine.

  “Mr. Gordon, this is Detective Kanson,” the voice stated as his finger bore down on the button, and he reached to shut it off, but steeled himself to listen out of an odd sense of completion, and perhaps out of penance.

  “We haven’t seen any further signs of our mystery man,” the ghost from the too-recent past explained, “but we did get a sketch worked up from the earlier descriptions, and I thought you might want a copy. If I don’t hear from you by five, I’ll just drop one off at your apartment, on the way home from work. That’s about it, but if you don’t want one, or if you have anything else for me, let me know right away.” And the message ended.

  Nick stared down at the machine for a moment, then hit Erase and waited while the incriminating bit of tape was wiped clean. One less loose end to deal with, he thought to himself as he wandered over to the kitchen and picked out the half-empty container of juice that waited inside.

  Now there’s just one big one.

  He attempted to distract himself with the cool sweetness of the juice, but it didn’t calm anything beyond his throat, and he finally admitted that he wasn’t in the mood to be distracted. He finished the last of the liquid in two swallows and tossed the empty container in the trash, then headed for the door.

  Enough stalling.

  It was time to deal with Daniel.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The club was quiet when Nick arrived, with only a handful of people milling about in one of the larger antechambers, and he thought he spotted Michael among the crowd, but didn’t stop to check as he wended his way down the hall and took the staircase in long, purposeful strides. His shoes echoed on the floor as he clambered up to the second floor and headed down the hall, coming to a stop before the familiar oak door.

  Right, he told himself. He opened the door without knocking, and let himself in.

  Daniel was standing with his back to the room, staring out of the picture window, and the shadow he cast hung long and low across the carpeting, the furniture, and almost to the door itself. He didn’t move or speak as Nick shut the door behind him.

  A minute passed, with neither man speaking, and Nick was starting to wonder whether he should leave and come back some other time—maybe a few centuries from now, he thought wryly—when he remembered his gift for unobtrusiveness. Daniel wasn’t usually the sort to hesitate when he could act, so maybe he just hadn’t noticed that there was anyone else around.

  Okay, let’s go with that, Nick decided. He walked over to the couch, and stood against it, one hand reaching out to rest on the warm material.

  “Daniel.”

  His father started slightly, and turned, eyes widening perceptibly and coming to rest on Nick, and then narrowing again. His thoughts, as Nick scanned them, ran “Where did he come from?” and “I don’t know!” which he thought redundant, but at least they confirmed that he hadn’t been ignored deliberately. Indeed, now that his presence had been announced Daniel stormed over to him, brow drawn and eyes glittering, hand clenched at his sides.

  “Is it done?” he demanded, and it took Nick a moment to decipher the meaning.

  “Is what done?” He responded automatically, and saw the older man’s shoulders tense as if preparing to swing at him.

  “That cop,” Daniel hissed through his teeth. “The woman detective. Is it taken care of?”

  “Yes,” Nick admitted finally, still feeling a sharp sliver of guilt over his actions. “She won’t trouble either of us again.”

  “Good,” his father replied coldly, but his eyes still glittered with anger as he focused more closely on the young man before him. “Now, what the hell did you think you were doing ordering me around?”

  “I told you before that I would handle it,” Nick replied, staying calm under the onslaught. “It was my problem, not yours.”

  “That may have been the case before,” Daniel raved, “but she attacked me! She dared to threaten me, and you prevented me from having my revenge!” Now his eyes narrowed to blue points, and went from frighteningly hot to an even more ominous cold. “Never tell me what to do, boy. I give the orders around here. Remember that.”

  “No, you don’t,” his son replied, and had to take a breath and force himself to continue before the eyes’ assault. “Not anymore.”

  Daniel laughed then, but it was the sound of a monster scorning his victim’s last defense, harsh and cruel in the high-ceilinged room. “You think you can decide on your own now, is that it? Don’t be pathetic! You haven’t made a single move that I didn’t set out for you beforehand.” The man seemed to swell somehow, to expand, until it felt as if he were towering over Nick, cutting him off from the rest of the world by trapping him within his monstrous shadow.

  “I created you,” the fiend before him announced as he stood there against the couch, with his hand gripping the material tightly for support. “I fathered you, I awakened you, I tutored you, and I made sure that you came back!” That last one caught Nick off-guard, and he tentatively probed the rage in front of him, searching for answers. What he found shocked him, and that kindling of surprise fanned a flame of pure anger, and gave him the courage to respond.

  “You sent the burglar,” he accused, and the man before him only laughed. “You knew that I’d drain him, and that I wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt, and would come running to you!” The blood drained from his face as he realized what he was saying. “You killed a man just to get me to come back!”

  “That’s right,” Daniel chortled, his beard almost red in the sun’s light. “I sent him there deliberately, and it worked! You came here, just as I expected!”

  “How much of the rest was due to your manipulation?” Nick demanded, anger completely replacing fear now. “What about Amy? Did you send her to look for me?” The possibility f
illed him with rage, and he straightened, meeting the monster’s gaze with one of his own.

  “I didn’t have to,” Daniel admitted, returned to his normal proportions now but still fighting-mad. “I watched you for several weeks, and knew that she was interested in you; so when I got her to show me where the building was, I guessed that she would think of you, and go to see if you were in.” He laughed again. “And you certainly were! Wasn’t she surprised!”

  “You monster!” Nick screamed, all sense of calm destroyed before the horrible facts that now assailed him. “You killed her! It was you who caused her death, not me!”

  “Oh?” his father shouted back, “and what of the pretty little cop? Did I cause that too?” He sneered. “You’re a murderer in your own right, without my help! You’re just as bad as I am!”

  “No!” he screamed, refusing to admit the possibility. The images of all the others flashed through his head—Williams, Alexander, Baker, Chi’en Lee. He had killed, and Daniel had had nothing to do with those—but there was one that reassured him, and on that one he rested his hope until it hardened into a belief. And then he gave it voice.

  “I am not like you!” He declared, throwing the challenge back in his accuser’s face. “I don’t kill without reason, and not when there’s another way!” He took a deep breath, and forced his voice back to normal levels. “The detective is still alive.”

  “What?” The shout hit like a hurricane, threatening to drive him before it, but he put his head down and braved it. “You let her live?”

  Amidst the anger and violence, Nick found himself calm again, quiet and sure. “Yes.”

  “You fool!” His father railed at him, but he faced it unflinching. “I can’t believe you! I thought you had what it took, but if you don’t even have the courage to accomplish one simple little task like this, I was obviously wrong!” His eyes still glowing with violence and rage, he turned and started past Nick, toward the door. “Fine, then! Stay here and cower like a fool! I’ll deal with that little cow myself!”

  “No you won’t,” Nick replied, swiveling around to place his body once again in the Daniel’s path, and his words were a rock that his father’s anger dashed against helplessly, without effect.

  “You dare to bar my way a second time?” Daniel snarled, and his brow threatened to crash down upon his eyes and crush them under its ponderous weight, so heavily did it scowl over his visage. “I warned you, you little cur,” Daniel spat, and his hand shot out to encircle Nick’s wrist with long manicured fingers. “You’ve passed the limits of my patience, and now you’ll pay the price!” His grip tightened, and Nick felt the pressure cutting into his flesh, attempting to snap down like a vise—he concentrated on that as his father’s enraged words fell on his ears. “I brought you into this world, you insignificant little flea, and I’ll take you out of it!”

  Daniel bore down, his teeth grinding together in a fierce grimace as he clenched his hand till his own fingers turned white as bone—

  —Nick looked up and met his eyes calmly, a cool brown stare that absorbed his father’s hot blue blaze and dispersed it harmlessly as glints of auburn light—

  —the world narrowed to the two hands locked together, and the flesh where they connected, and energy crackled across the narrow gap from limb to limb—

  —for a moment, there amidst the shouting and emotion, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and all movement stopped—the silence seemed to echo around the room and off the walls, threatening to crack the glass with its tremors, as father stared at son and son gazed calmly back—

  —then one of the combatants gasped, and seemed to shrink in upon himself, and his hand fell lifelessly from its opposite as time resumed its normal flow and sound returned to its proper place and volume. The vanquished figure slunk back a step, hand clutched protectively to his body as he retreated back from the light and the fray, into the safety of the shadows.

  “What have you done?”

  “I’ve beaten you,” Nick replied, basking in the uninterrupted light that streamed through the window and feeling the warmth along his flesh as a cry of victory through every cell. “You thought you’d won, and you had, but that was only against Francisco and a few of the others, and just for some minor competition to pass the time. This one was for real, for the ultimate stakes, and you lost—I’ve beaten you for good.” He stared down at his father, and held out his arm. “Go ahead —try again, if you like. It won’t work. I’m immune to that now—you’ll never be able to absorb me like you planned, like you did so many others.” His mind reached out as he spoke, skimming the memories in his father’s head for confirmation, and his eyes widened as he discovered the full enormity of the situation he had only heard of in rumors.

  “It’s true,” he gasped, and the hair along his arms stood up, even his triumph seeming to shrink before the horror he had seen. “You really did do it!” His father didn’t answer, but the unrepentant glare he received was more than enough, and its unabashed hatred was the cold response Nick needed to restore him to his senses, to regain his calm after the sudden shock.

  “All in the family, eh?” he chuckled dryly. “I guess you got part of your wish—I’ll bet you’d rather you hadn’t now, though.” He regarded his father with pity now. “Well, it won’t work this time, so forget about it.” His eyes locked on those before him, and reinforced his words, ensuring their obedience. “Here’s the deal: you will act exactly as you did before, and in public you will consider me a ward, under your protection, but outside of the usual games. In reality, you will never try to tell me what to do. You will not contact me, or look for me—if I want to see you, I will. You will also never implicate me in anything, Club-related or otherwise—I’m not about to let you seek your revenge against me by framing me for murder or anything.” He paused and thought a second, then nodded. “That’s it—we’ll still see each other, and be civil, and maybe someday I’ll forget what you did, or at least forgive you, and we’ll be friends again. But don’t count on it.”

  “What will you do?” Daniel demanded, but his voice was a shadow of its former assertion, and his eyes showed that it was over. The battle was won. With a sigh of relief Nick dropped the force-field he had maintained—it had been an effort, especially while talking, but the thin layer of telekinetic force had functioned exactly as he had hoped, preventing Daniel from getting the contact necessary to absorb him. Now that wasn’t required—a quick mental glance showed that the older man had accepted that, for whatever reason, Nick was now completely immune to the absorption affect. He wouldn’t try again.

  “I don’t know,” Nick finally replied, turning and heading back toward the door. With Daniel still acting as a public guardian, and a protective one at that, the other Club members wouldn’t be eager to try and manipulate him, so he didn’t have to watch his back as much. That left him free to associate with them, without having to worry about playing their little games or taking sides in any arguments. Plus, with the check he had received earlier that day, and forgotten in his pocket due to the turn in events, he now had more than enough money to support himself and his mother for a long time, so he didn’t have to try any schemes to garner additional wealth. That meant he could return to his previous life, if he so chose, without too many additional considerations to deal with. “I guess I’ll just go on with school, for now; my book’s about done, and I’ll send that out, plus I’ve got some other projects I want to work on. Maybe I’ll travel a little, now that I can afford it.” He smiled slightly. “I’ll also be around here more often—if I’m going to see these people throughout eternity, I’d better get to know them now.”

  “Then you’ll still be here?” his father asked, and seemed surprised at his nod of agreement. “But what about the cop? She’s still after you!”

  “No.” Nick frowned slightly at the thought. “I wasn’t lying when I said she’ll never bother us again.” He shook his head, still unhappy about it. He had never tried removing an entire block of memories b
efore, and had been afraid that he would do some permanent mental damage to her by doing so, but the risk was better than just killing her outright. So he had removed all traces of the last encounter, plugged in an uneventful ride home through rush-hour traffic in order to cover the gap, and had implanted in her the conclusion that the case was ultimately a dead-end, and should be shelved.

  He felt guilty over ending Amy’s life on such a weak note—she deserved better—but it was the best he could do, and he would probably worry on whether it had been the right choice for years to come.

  “I’m going downstairs now,” he informed his father as he reached for the door. “I wanted to spend some time with Michael, and with Marion. I’ll see you later.” And he left the room, leaving the older man with his ghosts. There were people downstairs to talk to, and friends waiting for him to call, and soon there would be classes to take and students to teach, things to learn and things to discover. In time he might become as burned-out and depressed as his father, but he was determined to enjoy the time while he could, and to fit as much enjoyment in as possible. Sooner or later, even such an indefinite period had to end, and he didn’t want to miss anything that he might regret later.

  With that thought in mind Nick headed downstairs to the antechamber, to begin the rest of his life. The future stretched out endlessly before him, without his father’s long shadow to obscure it, and so far it looked very bright.

  Back upstairs, a conversation was taking place.

  “Well, now what can we do?”

  “Do? There’s nothing we can do, you old fool! He’s beaten us, and he knows it! We can’t touch him, and somehow he’s made it so that we can’t denounce him! We’re trapped!”

  “We could send someone after him—another burglar, perhaps? Better prepared, this time?”