Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (48 page)

"Liquid nirvana," he muttered, taking the shot from the machine and downing it.

From a silver plate hammered into the top of his desk, light began to effuse and dance. The Archiver was bringing up the files, seven of them, all of which had been submitted under his name for the repeals.
 

Caleb flitted through each one, feeling confusion mount with every file he read. Only wisps of his conversations with Ezekiel were on file, thin slivers of memory that Persaud had stolen from his mind. Suspicions of Zeika being a witness to the Lakeside bombing, records of their interview at the Lobon Inn, her survival of the Ninkashi attack on the Guild-- all reports that Caleb had made himself and hadn't locked away, because none of it incriminated her. But everything else... the location of her forge, her being a gunsmith, her surrender at the Koan hollow,
none
of that had come from his memory. Not a lick of those thoughts had even been submitted. He had locked them back good and tight, just like he'd thought.

All lies. Persaud lied to her. To both of us.

Moreover, Persaud had gotten his information from someone else. Someone close, probably, who'd known Zeika. Caleb snatched the files from their float and put them to the face of his phone, where they uploaded. He'd dropped the fire for nothing, sacrificed her for nothing--
 

No. She's alive.

Convincing himself of this had become harder as the weeks had crawled by. He'd searched everywhere in the Protecteds, kept his eyes on the road and his ears on the airwaves for anything remotely "Zeika" or "Manja", but nothing had turned up. Then again, if someone tried to ice him, he wouldn't be shooting off fireworks, either.

Maybe. Maybe she was still out there somewhere. He just had to look harder.
 

"Archiver, I'd like a contingency search done for any other evidence linking the name "Ezekiel D'jihara Anon" to the Articles39 repeals."

"Of course, sire," the Archiver's voice mellowed from the holograms. "Just a moment, please."

The hologram expanded as it populated with more file clusters, each of which branched out from the original. Recordings, interviews, notes, pictures-- everything linking Zeika in with the repeals-- popped up, none of which included his unwilling testimony. Instead, he saw different names come up: Anthony and Carmen Cartegena, Kenneth Taitt, and the tax collector: Sal Morgan.

All of them had testified or sent in some evidence against Zeika, all of which had been used to help put her and the Articles39 in the ground. But the testimonies had all been collated under Morgan's name. Caleb furrowed his brow as things clicked: Morgan must have been wrangling info on Zeika. He had either paid the witnesses off or had threatened them, but either way, the files were incredibly detailed: where she lived, where she worked, what kind of arms she made and dealt, her route, her pick-up and drop-off times... they had given up the goods like they were going out of business.

"But why? What's your investment, Morgan?"

He took the rest of the files and synced them to his phone, all the while his mind burning with new questions. And fears. The specificity of the details on Zeika's life was intense. It was like Morgan had been tracking her for months. Maybe even years
.

Caleb stood up, throwing on his robes and hood before he walked out the study. The lights shut off, and the door locked behind him. He'd track back, check out Zeika's Forge for any evidence. He hadn't seen much of her shop when he was there, but he'd be an asshole to think she didn't have hidden doors and rooms, just like in the fountain. Then, he'd chase up her connections-- Guildmaster Ken Taitt, the Cartegenas, and lastly, that bitch Sal Morgan-- yeah, he and Morgan would have a good, long chat.

Zeika sat down, slowly, as Franz' words sank into her. "What do you mean, my
body
?"

"You tell me."

Franz motioned with his eyes to the back wall of the room, one that Zeika hadn't really noticed when she first came in. The wall was smattered with newspaper clippings. Each one shouted a different headline, and yet they were all linked by the same thing: a picture of a firestorm, smack in the middle of the Old Botanical Gardens, consuming everything. Her stomach twisted as she took in the death of her Forge for the second time. The headlines, though. Each one was more troubling than the last.

Young Civilian girl killed by APs in raid. Koan paraphernalia found at the scene.

Ezekiel Anon a ghost of Koa? Secret gun forge linked to Koa found by local Alchemic Police.

Mourning Councilman Salvatore Morgan speaks words of comfort to friends of the Anon family. Promises to retrieve Anon's body for burial.

Morgan holds candlelight vigils for Anon's death.

Morgan speaks out against Alchemic Order for Anon murder.

Morgan files suit against Demesne Five Police for desecration of human remains.

Morgan. Morgan. More Morgan. Zeika turned to Franz, freaked.

"D'you hear Lim's dig at Sal? That she knew the ashes better than the girl?"

She nodded, and Franz returned the gesture, directing his rocky chin to the news articles. "After the Forge fire, ole Sally boy pitched a righteous fit, he did. Made a public stink and actually stood against the Alchemic Order in your name. Started spreading the news all over town about the injustices against Civilian children."

She shivered. Creepy. And also ironic, considering his involvement in the repeals. But what was his deal, really? She and Manja had been on the run for too long, too concerned with surviving to give Sal too much thought. So long as they avoided him and weren't forced to use their powers on him, she thought they'd be okay. He was just another power-tripping politician.

But now, Sal's gross obsession had reached a new level. From his visit to their home on tax day to his adoption of her and Manja at the Guild. The old Azure at her forge had even mentioned some "cock fight" between Sal and Caleb and of her being a "well-kept woman". And now Sal wanted ownership over her remains?

"To be true, dearie, the man in me don't get it, either." Franz was eyeing her, reading her confused expression. "You ain't got nearly enough T & A to put a pecker perpendicular, that's for sure--"

Zeika closed her eyes and dug her palms into them. "Franz, please."

"--but the Alchemist in me says it's what's
under
your flesh that's got Sally gunnin'."

She dropped her hands and scowled at him. She didn't like where this was going. "Let's not get magical, all right? So Sal wants my remains, so what? You saw the headlines: "Young Civilian girl killed by APs in a raid". He's the one who pushed repeals of the Articles39 through in the first place. To Civilians, he's the one responsible for my death. So I get killed, and what does he do? He causes a scene. He rails against the Order. He holds stupid candlelit vigils and makes crap promises to the Fifth. He's a politician."

Franz chuckled. "Cute. You're so convincing, you could almost be a politician yourself."

"It's the truth!"

"C'mon, queenie. You ain't that stupid. If burying Civilian bodies was so important to Sal, why are the corpses of those eight lots still stinkin' up the place? Mrs. Lim didn't buy Sal's bullshit, and neither do you."

Good point. Sal hadn't spoken a word on retrieving those bodies. They had been left for Civilians to handle themselves.

"Fine," she relented. "So what's your theory?"

"My theory is you're a Civic Alchemist. A powerful one. I think Sal knows it too."

"I am not an Alchemist." She frowned and turned away.

"You're a liar, and even if you ain't that means you're in deeper shit than you know. You think Sal's gonna give up the search? You think that anywhere in the Protecteds is a safe place for you? For her?"
 

Zeika looked, paying attention to Manja for the first time since Franz had pulled them in. She was crouched in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, hugging them into her little body. She looked haunted. Normally, Zeika would have sent her out of the room for this kind of talk, but this time there was nowhere to go.

"He's not going to stop until he finds you," Franz said.

Zeika turned back to face him, and for the first time since she'd known him, Franz' swaggering smirk had disappeared.
 

"Whether you're an Alchemist or not, Sal will burn the Fifth to the ground," he continued. "And he'll do it in your name."

"Are you saying that the Vigils are
my
fault?"

Franz shrugged. "S'not for me to point fingers. But I'd say you're in a peculiar position to do somethin' about it. Don't you agree?"

"No. I don't."

"Thas a shame. Doesn't give me much incentive to keep you and the kid a secret."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that threat?"

"Nah. I'm just asking m'self why I'd want to be saddled with a piece of street trash who don't care about nothin' but herself."

"Look. I appreciate your help, Franz. I do. You saved us when we needed it most. But that doesn't mean you own our lives. I'm not a hero or a martyr. I'm not responsible for anything or anyone else except for the kid."

"If you really cared about her, you'd do what you can to provide a stable home. War's comin'. A slice of shelter might do the two of you some good when the fire starts raining down. I can offer you that, but it'll come at a price--"

"Thanks, but we'll pass. We're leaving. We need to get to the Island." Zeika began to retie her robes, getting ready. The world outside had been silent for a while. It was time to go. She walked over, stood Manja up, and began to re-button her robes. She stuffed the girl's pants' legs into her socks, preparing her for the cold.

"Oh yeah? Still lookin' for Mama and Papa? Thas real sweet."

Zeika shot him a poisonous look, but she kept bundling Manja up.
 

Franz chuckled and shook his head. "How d'you expect to find your parents anyway? Plan on holding a seance?"

She whipped around, the anger rising. "Our parents are alive."

"Well if that's true, then I ain't got good news for you: dead parents are less suspicious than missing ones."

Her jaw tightened. "What are you trying to say?"

Franz' face was solemn. "I heard what happened at the Guild. You and the kid getting snatched as wards of the state, put under Sally's guardianship. A little convenient, don't you think? Deals like that don't happen on their own. And well, yer Ma... k-heads like her can get real creative when it comes to making ends meet--"

"Fuck you, Franz. Our mother didn't sell us for a flight."

"You sure about that, sugar?"

She clenched her fists, wanting to say something. But she couldn't. The truth was she
wasn't
sure. It was something she hadn't even considered until he brought it up. True, Mama had been high that day. Zeika and everyone else who was there had known it. Mama had somehow gotten her hands on kunja in a Guild that had been sealed tight against it, and even then Zeika hadn't had time to wonder how. Maybe Franz knew something she didn't. Still, she didn't want to believe it. Mama was a lot of things, but she couldn't, she wouldn't...

"Open the door, Franz." It was all Zeika could manage. "Please."

Franz' shrugged. "Your call." He waved his hand, and the hidden door she and Manja had been pulled into atomized, becoming sheer and permeable.

Zeika swallowed down the lump in her throat, getting a hold of herself as she peeked out. All traces of Sal and his men were gone. Even the jock's truck had been removed, leaving nothing but bite marks on the corner of the building it had hit. The alley was empty of everything except the shadows, which grew as day slowly turned to twilight.
 

She reached her hand to Manja, who ran over and grabbed it. Then they stood at the swirling door, Zeika suddenly unsure. The things Franz had said. About the coming war and finding shelter, about Mama's addiction, about Sal's psychotic campaign. In the end, she didn't know how to disentangle the facts from the fiction, and at the moment, she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She didn't want to think anything else except that she and Manja would make it to the Island alive.

Manja's little fingers tightened around hers. She was depending on her. Zeika had promised her that they'd see their parents again, that they'd have a good life. They had half an Azure grand which would get them food for a bit, and once they fixed enough cars, they could get smuggled passage onto the Island. They couldn't turn back, not now, and especially not because of some wino's ghost stories. They would make it. They had to.

"Thanks again, Franz," she said, and firm in her decision, she turned back to the opening, stepped out into the alley, Manja's hand in hers-- and she stopped short as she came nose-to-nose with a man. Rather... what used to be a man.

She froze. His face was gaunt, sagging, his skin like candle wax dripping from bone. His red-rimmed sockets nearly swallowed pasty eyes that were too small to be human, eyes that now inflated, filling their red spongy beds as they drank her in. Hungrily. The jaw dropped, releasing a mournful trumpeting scream.

She staggered backwards, falling back into Franz' hovel as the Ninkashi threw itself at her. Its advance stopped as it crashed into the swirling brick wall face first, blood spraying against the transparent barrier on impact. Manja was screaming, and even though the monster couldn't get through, Zeika crabbed back, desperately fumbling for her gun. The Ninkashi roared again, either not feeling or not caring about the broken bones in its face, and it threw itself at the invisible barrier, blindly, clawing and screaming for blood.

Somehow Zeika got to her feet, pulled the gun, and fired. Four shots with lowered aim, each one actually hitting the creature, throwing it back against the opposite alley wall.

The rush of blood against her eardrums must have drowned out the sound of Franz' footsteps... because she didn't hear him behind her until he laughed.

"Go on, queenie! It's your world, right? Go conquer it."