The Inspectre haroomed loudly. “You say thank you.”
“Yes,” Wesker said. “You say thank you.To me. Even if it kills you…and I know it will.”
Wesker had taken Jane into his division because he’d heard what a professional she was, but I knew it couldn’t hurt that he knew I would hate the idea. And now he was forcing me to thank him. Whatever his motives, though, I did have him to thank for Jane’s safety from Jason Charles. It stung that Wesker was the one who had remedied the situation and not me, but that was probably his point in doing it in the first place.
I looked Wesker in the eye. “Thank you,” I said.
Wesker looked like the cat that had eaten the canary.
Jane put her arm around me, spun me around, and started hobbling me back toward the office.
“One last thing,” Wesker called out. All tolerance was gone from his voice this time. “If I hear about a lick of this getting out to the other staffers, I may have to put a contract out on you myself. Ido have a reputation for evil to uphold around here, and frankly, I find fear a much better motivator for my division than your Inspectre’s precious nurturing technique.”
Inspectre Quimbley snorted in response.
I stared blankly back at Wesker. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said with the Grinchiest of grins and stormed off toward the offices before I could get another word in.
38
Jane went off after Wesker to Greater amp; Lesser Arcana to fill out a mountain of paperwork. The day wore on, and I filled out my own mountain until it was time to head home. It was marvelous to experience my first night of downtime in what felt like forever. As I settled into the chaotic comfort of my apartment all alone, I took stock of the past few days. I had grown to care for and respect almost all the people I worked with more than I thought possible, and I had even fallen for a cultist. In light of recent events, the apartment seemed eerily quiet. I was surprised to find that now that I did have some time alone, I wasn’t really comfortable with it.
The answering machine I had been ignoring since Tamara’s death stared at me, its little red light flickering like a spastic heart monitor. I was almost positive that most of the messages had been Tamara’s usual tirades. I reached for the play button then thought better of it and simply unplugged the phone. What good would listening to them do now? Torturing myself for the inaction that had gotten her killed?
Enough was enough. I had a pretty good idea where I fell short now, how my powers had driven a wedge between myself and true happiness, but something had changed in me. I needed a fresh start for a fresh life. God, I felt like a Dr. Phil show just for thinking like that and I threw up in my mouth a little.
In celebration of my shift in attitude, I unpacked the remaining contents of my broken and overturned crates from the headhunter’s break-in while wondering what role Jane might play in my life. Jane gave me hope that peoplecould change for the better, and that reassured me about the change I had made. She had been at my side in the museum that fateful night. I had been in the mind of Henry the Second of France.
Looking back now, being in the mind of Henry the Second of France had probably helped effect a shift in my psychometric power. Recalling the mental weight of his responsibility for his country seemed to let me tap into reserves of calm and self-control, and made the problems I usually had seem bearable. Ever since that night, I had found it easier to control my psychometry. It was amazing what a brief stint as a historical legend did to give you a new sense of perspective.
Still, even with someone as wonderful as Jane in my life, Irene’s passing and Tamara’s destruction had left me with several mental truckloads of thoughts. Faith, for instance, had become the foremost nag of them all. Dealing with the extraordinary was hard enough without bringing up the question of a God or, possibly, gods. So much of what I had seen in my formative time with the Department just didn’t jibe with any one particular branch of theology.
One particular thought weighed heavily on my mind: Every case I worked was its own brand of jigsaw puzzle. Some of those puzzles had only a hundred pieces and were recommended for ages seven to ten, while others were designed for a full-time staff of Mensa brainiacs. I suspected that I fell to the lower end of that scale, but one of the biggest pieces of Irene’s puzzle was why she was lingering around after death in the first place. Why hadn’t she passed on?
Last night at the museum, Irene had spoke of how right everything felt in doing one final self-sacrificing deed that ultimately saved Jane and me. She was content that once the battle was over, she would be free. She seemed sure of it. If that was true, then she had remained earthbound for just such a specific reason-to be there for me. And if I was going to believe that she had been put there for a reason, then that spoke of predestination, didn’t it? If I was a cog in someone’s great machine, it put a considerable deal of pressure on me. Was I doing the right things-the Good things-in the face of some scheme far grander? It was both terrifying and glorious a thought at the same time. Of course, Irene may simply have been earthbound by some scientific coincidence involving energy, math, and Schrцdinger’s Cat.
That was the tricky part. Which was it? I wasn’t sure, but I knew one thing: Some force was at work. Be it of logical explanation or a more spiritual one, I could feel its presence in my life nonetheless.
Thinking about all of it made my brain hurt. The greater mystery of what lies beyond life eluded me. Hopefully they would cover that in one of the pamphlets or a seminar.
Until then, I would drive myself mad if I thought about the totality of it all. The only way to comfort myself over it was to remember Irene’s words in passing. Life was, as she said, for the living.
I tidied up my living room, stuffing the last of the packing materials into one of the empty boxes, and I started to visualize how all the unwrapped bits of furniture and antiques would fit into my setup. I was ever the puzzle solver. The place was finally starting to feel like a home. Only one piece remained missing.
I pulled out my cell and dialed Jane.
EPILOGUE
From: The Fraternal Order of Goodness-Fighting the Good Fight since the Middle Ages
DearSimon Canderous:
Congratulations! You have been nominated for initiation into the Fraternal Order of Goodness (F.O.G.) at the request ofInspectre Argyle Quimbley.
Yourbravery / quick thinking / not getting killed confirms your commitment to both your personal survival and educational growth. We are confident you will make a valuable contribution to the Order’s fine tradition of scholarship and service, neither of which our secret society can talk to you about until the appropriate paperwork has been filled out.
This offer is contingent upon successful completion of any and/or all pending casework/enchantments/removal of curses and please bear in mind that while we are affiliated with the Department of Extraordinary Affairs, we predate their organization by several centuries. You must also make arrangements for filling out our questionnaire in the presence of your sponsor. We, therefore, encourage an early response. Please set aside the appropriate five-hour block for this at your discretion.
Enclosed please find an enrollment contract, along with instructions for accepting our offer and completing the enrollment process. On behalf of the entire Fraternal Order of Goodness, we extend a warm welcome and best wishes for your success. We appreciate your interest in fighting evil and staying alive, and we hope you share our enthusiasm about your future with F.O.G.