Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (49 page)

Franz' boot slammed into her back, thrusting her through the swirling brick and out into the alley. She fell to her knees, and her gun clattered away, skittling to a stop beneath the knees of the Ninkashi who was now bent over and hacking.
 

She staggered to her feet, icy terror coursing through her body. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the monster or the gun it was crouched over. She wouldn't dare, because what had happened before was happening again. It was coughing up bullets onto the brick. The holes in its chest were closing around blood that had already stopped leaking-- and the last thing she heard was Manja's cry get cut short as the brick door re-solidified, locking her in with Franz and locking Zeika out into the coming night.

The first plate was already done and steaming on the table, but it was rude to not eat or drink with a guest in the guest's own house. So Xakiah had begun another round in the kitchen. Onions and garlic and ground meat sizzled on the stove, sweating and caramelizing together atop the olive oil. He'd just finished carving out a thick hunk of feta cheese and was now rolling out the homemade filo dough, the concoction soft, cool, and sticky under his fingers. He balanced his cell phone between his ear and shoulder.

"I have something for you." Dr. Georin's voice came in over the receiver.
 

Xakiah opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out the rolling pin. "Oh? Do tell."

"You wanna know where the Ninkashi came from, you should consider catching a train ride over to the Co-op Marketplace. It leaves Porcine Park, Seventh Demesne on Thursday, 2:31 am."

"Much obliged, David."

"And the shipment you promised?"

Xakiah turned around, sadly eyeing the man who was gagged and tied to the chair at the kitchen table. "You'll get it today." He hung up, reached in the drawer again, and pulled out the cheese grater before he turned back to the prisoner, who was struggling furiously.

"Are you hungry?"

The man's terrified eyes widened.

"How foolish of me. Of course you are. Here." He walked over to the man and set down the plate he'd just made for him. Then he walked back over to the stove to check on the meat. He had made one of his favorite foods from a life already lived.
Burek
, a rich pastry filled with grilled meat-and-cheese, great for any meal of the day.
 

He glanced at the gagged and bound man, who looked perfectly green with sickness at the sight of the food on the table. Poor Ryan Moreno, shaking from his eyebrows to his blue slippers. Xakiah had already decided that his death would be quick and painless. Ryan was more of a kid than a man, really. He had just hit twenty-one, fresh out of college. He was a double major in political science and foreign affairs. He spoke four languages. He'd just bought three tailored suits, his first ones. A watch, too. He had just broken up with his curly-haired girlfriend, who was a part of some stupid sorority and majored in fashion and retail.
 

Despite that last oversight, Ryan held so much promise. He wanted to serve the Order as an Azure Councilman one day. He studied day and night, pulling top marks. He served his local charities and communities. He planned to apply to law school but wanted to get work experience first, so he'd interned and worked tirelessly to beat out 623 other applicants, just so that he could become the aide to Councilman Mikhail Beige. And all Beige had given him in return was an express ticket into the grave.

The traitor had used Ryan to schedule his transportation, his meetings, pass his notes, and run his errands, all around the sale and the smuggling of the Page. Beige had never told Ryan about the Final Page or what it was, but he'd dirtied the boy's hands nonetheless. He'd exposed him, and now, Ryan was going to be tortured for information and executed... and he'd never know why.

Xakiah took his frustration out on the dough beneath the pin. He rolled and rolled until it was paper thin. Killing traitors, saboteurs, and aggressors against the Order was fine. It served a purpose, a greater good. There was joy in that. But killing a good, loyal Azure-- one of their best and brightest-- simply to keep secrets that should never have been spilled in the first place... it was irresponsible. Gaudy. A tasteless and unnecessary act of brutality. Beige was going to pay for his irresponsibility, with all the agonies Xakiah's rage could provide.

"That smells so wonderful, Ryan! Whatever are you making?" The old, gentle voice came behind slippered shuffles.
 

Xakiah turned around and wiped his hands on the kitchen towel. Mathila Moreno, poor Ryan's sweet and equally unlucky grandmother, had just hobbled her way into the kitchen, smiling. She was blind, her green eyes cataracted and untouched by the smile on her face.

"Ryan? Dear?" She asked again. She was standing a few feet away from him, but her milky eyes searched far above his head.

Ryan sputtered into his cloth and began to jerk around in his chair. Xakiah cut him a warning look, and the kid froze.

"Ryan apologizes, Mrs. Moreno," Xakiah started as gently as he could. "He's trying to speak with his mouth full."

"Oh!" The old woman started. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't know Ryan had company! You startled me."

"My apologies, Madam. I'm Xakiah. A friend." Xakiah walked around Ryan, took her hand, and kissed it. "Very nice to meet you."
 

The old woman giggled, putting a thin bony hand to her cheek. "You rascal! I haven't blushed like this since I was a teenager! Ryan, you're so rude! Why didn't you introduce me to your friend?"

Xakiah pulled out Ryan's gag and glared at him, shooting off various warnings at once. Ryan got the point.

"Sorry, grandmama. I-- I thought you were sleeping. He's a friend, uh-- from school," Ryan stuttered, tears in his voice. He looked back at Xakiah, at the methodical gaze. He cleared his throat and swallowed, trying to sound more upbeat. "You know what? You can have mine if you're hungry. He's m-making another one anyway, and you haven't eaten yet. You can even take it in your room. You know, put on your tunes, or something."

"Oh, well thank you, dear. You're always so sweet. Would that be all right, er-- Xakiah, was it? I don't want to be rude."

Ryan looked at him with the most desperate of silent pleas.

"Of course, Madam," Xakiah said. "To your pleasure. It's your house."

"Oh, no need to be so formal-- ooh!"

The grandmother giggled as Xakiah picked her up. The plate of food, too. He walked her into the next room and laid her down on the bed.

"Oh my! You're so strong! Thank goodness my husband's not alive to see that. He'd be green with envy, the sweet old fool."

Xakiah chuckled and tucked the old woman in, adjusted the pillows, and then set her bed tray up. He put the plate of meat pastry in the middle, fork and knife on the left, and the cloth napkin underneath, folded into a perfect equilateral triangle. Something was missing.

"Drink?" He asked.

"Milk, please. Oh, I love milk. Check my little fridge by the dresser. There should be some inside. Cups are on top."

The fridge was exactly where she said it'd be, but as he walked up to it, he couldn't help but notice the fascinating "old people stuff" lying on top of the dresser next to it. The dark wooden top of her dresser was partially draped in a doily cloth, and on it sat a variety of medicines, vitamins, and knick-knacks. A feather duster. A variety of lipsticks and blushes. A couple of busts strung with pearl necklaces and topped with wigs. And dentures, sitting out in the open. He cocked his head. The fake teeth hadn't been touched for a long time. None of the stuff had, actually. He could tell by the film of dust that had started to collect there.

He shrugged off the strange shrine and retrieved the milk, pouring a glass for her before he set it down on her tray. She was already digging into the food.

"This is delightful! What did you say this was, dear?"

"
Burek.
Very well known breakfast pastry from my countries. Serbia. Croatia."

"Oh! And where are those places?"

"Gone, like all the rest. Relics of the old world." He set the cold milk carton down on the nightstand next to her. A wireless radio headset laid there, unused. Ryan had mentioned "tunes", hadn't he? "Would you like some music?"

"That'd be wonderful, dear, thank you. The Frie Dreinder Symphonies Collection, if you would."
 

Xakiah smiled, slightly surprised. He had Dreinder's entire volume on his own shelf. They were the best string orchestra that had debuted since the Collapse, and they were a Civic orchestra, no less. Some Azures balked at this, but not him. Even in the old world, he'd always known the poor to play with the most passion.
 

"You have good taste," he said, adjusting the headset's frequency.

"Don't I? But they make it so easy. Dreinder's like a classical dream!" She shifted as Xakiah pulled the covers over her. "Bless you, child! You are the most considerate friend Ryan's ever invited over. Who are your parents, if I may ask? I must send them my regards. They raised such a lovely boy."

"Dead."

"How tragic. I'm so sorry to hear that. Family is so important."

"It is. Sweet dreams, Madam."

"Goodnight, dearie."

He fit the soft, padded headphones snugly over her ears, and turned on the music. He adjusted the volume so that it wasn't too loud, but loud enough. She didn't need to hear what was coming next. He left the bedroom, eased the door closed behind him, and walked back to the kitchen.

"She's lovely," he said to Ryan. He went back to the kitchen counter and grabbed the cheese grater. "Very kind."

"Please..." Ryan whispered. "Please don't hurt her. I don't know what you want, but she has nothing to do with it."

Xakiah forced a smile and sat in the chair across from him, the cheese grater on his knee. He looked at his watch, then at the stove, where the meat was still simmering. Ryan stared at him, confused.

"I... don't work on an empty stomach," Xakiah explained.

Ryan shot him a crazed look, as though what he'd just said was ridiculous. Truly, was it that hard to understand that mercenaries needed to eat too?

"Look man," he started. He was shaking his head, near tears. "I don't know what you want, but I didn't do anything--"

Xakiah held up a silencing hand. "I told you. I don't work on an empty stomach. If you'd like to talk, fine, but let's talk about something else. Football?"

 
Ryan blinked.

Xakiah shifted, uncomfortable. "Oh. Apologies. I believe you people around this way call it 'soccer'. So amazing how the world changes and yet doesn't, eh?"

"You want to talk soccer."

"Why not? Everyone loves soccer."

"I just... Azures talk about you a lot. The goliath of the Alchemic Order. They never said anything about you liking normal stuff, though. Like, you know, soccer."

Xakiah chuckled and looked off. "Killing is my profession, not my pastime."

"But you seem to enjoy it."

"A man should take pleasure and pride in his work, no matter how much others may misinterpret that pleasure."
 

A pause hung between them as Ryan stared at him, his look unreadable.

"So," Xakiah spoke again, smiling as he broke the silence. "The goliath, huh? What else do those hypocrites call me?"

Ryan looked stressed. "Necrosis. Chemical Cotch. Stealer of men's souls. Kitchen killer... Didn't know why until now. Something about all this got you goin'?" He threw a glance around the room, indicating the cottage kitchen.

Xakiah shrugged, not having to think about it. "It has everything I need. Knives, fire, graters..."

Ryan's terrified eyes flicked to the cheese grater in his hand. Oops.

"Oh. Sorry," Xakiah muttered awkwardly. He put the grater on the table. Usually, he
would
say things like that to scare the target, but he wasn't trying to this time. He was just all thumbs with tact; it had never been a strong suit of his, and he'd known it for years, but this was the first time he truly regretted it. He cleared his throat. "What I was trying to say was--" What
was
he trying to say? "--it surprises me that more housewives don't take up my profession."
 

Really? Was that what he was trying to say? Great. Charming.

To his surprise though, Ryan actually laughed. "Well, yeah, but you haven't seen my ex-girlfriend. Especially around sorority rush time."

Xakiah smiled tightly and got up, letting out a long breath. The meat was done, and it was almost time. He looked at the stove. Then back at Ryan. Well... the meat wasn't
quite
done. It could be more done, right? He liked his meat brown, didn't he?

He walked over to the stove and turned the fire down to the lowest setting, forcing the sizzle into a simmer. It'd be at least another ten minutes before it was
done
done. In the meantime, he could take the edge off his hunger with an apple or something, maybe ask some gentle questions to see what Ryan really knew. No need to shed blood so quickly.