Mortal Danger (The Immortal Game) (2 page)

The hot samaritan sat down next to the window, so that the red light from the giant coffee cup on the roof fell across the table in waves. I took a seat opposite him and folded my hands like I was at a college admissions interview. He smiled at me. Under fluorescent lights, he was even better looking than he’d appeared on the bridge.

It didn’t make me happy.

“So is this where you call the cops? You lured me in quietly. Good job.” To my astonishment, I got the words out without a hitch. In his company, I wasn’t nervous at all, mostly because I half suspected he was a figment of my imagination.

“No, this is where I introduce myself. I’m Kian.”

Okay, not what I expected. “Edie.”

Short for Edith, who had been my maternal great-aunt. No one used my nickname, except me—in my head. At school, they called me Eat-it.

“I know who you are.”

My breath caught. “What?”

“I didn’t find you by accident.” Before I could answer, Kian signaled the waitress and ordered coffee.

She glanced at me with an inquiring expression.
What the hell.
If I was dying after this conversation anyway—

“I’ll have a strawberry milk shake.”

“Hey, Hal,” the waitress called. “Shake one in the hay.”

An assenting noise came from the back and then the woman went behind the counter to pour Kian’s coffee. She served it with a flourish, along with a sugar bowl and a pitcher of cream. “That’s how you take it, right?”

He smiled up at her. “Good memory, Shirl.”

“That’s why I get the big bucks.” She winked and sauntered to her next table.

I picked up the thread as he stirred cream and sugar into his drink. “Explain how you know who I am and where to find me. It sounds stalker-y, and I’m inclined to bail as soon as I finish my shake.”

“Then I have time to make my case,” he said softly. “Misery leaves a mark on the world, Edie. All strong emotions do. Rage, terror, love, longing … they’re powerful forces.”

“Right. What does that have to do with me?”

“Your pain came to my attention months ago. I’m sorry it took me so long to act, but I’m constrained by certain rules. I had to wait until you reached the breaking point before I could offer you a deal.”

“If this is where you offer a fiddle of gold against my soul, I’m out.”

His smile flashed. A little shiver of warmth went through me because he seemed to appreciate my wit. “Nothing so permanent.”

“I’m all ears,” I said as the waitress delivered my shake, hand-dipped with whorls of fresh whipped cream and a bright red cherry on top—almost too pretty to drink. Deliberately, I stirred it with my straw, ruining the beauty, and sucked up a huge mouthful.

Delicious.

“When humans of exceptional potential reach the breaking point—what we call extremis—we can step in.”

I choked on my drink. “Humans. Which makes you
what
, exactly?”

Now I felt sure this was the lead-in to the most spectacular punk ever. I craned my neck, looking for Cameron, Brittany, Jen, Allison, or the cheer mascot, Davina. She had too much melanin for Blackbriar squad standards, so they kept her in a lion costume half the school year, and when she got out of it, she ran errands for the Teflon crew, who treated her more like a minion than a friend. I didn’t see anyone from school, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in somebody’s bedroom, laughing their asses off through this guy’s button cam. This would probably end up on YouTube.

Like the first video.

Kian shook his head. “I can’t answer that unless we come to an agreement.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” I said tiredly. “I don’t know what they’re paying you, if you’re a struggling actor, or what, but I’m not interested. This isn’t even the meanest prank they’ve pulled. Are they watching right now?”

“Edie—”

“Wait,” I cut in. “I bet you don’t get paid unless I play along. Fine. Tell me more about this awesome deal. Can I get it for four low payments of nine ninety-five?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned across the table and took my hand.
Now that’s commitment to the bit,
I thought.

Then the world vanished, a static skip in an old VCR tape. I remembered those from elementary school, the low-rent one I attended before my parents published, filed their first patent, and could afford a pricey prep school. That fast, the diner was just
gone
.

Brutal wind whipped my hair against my face. My glasses frosted over and my skin tightened with goose bumps in the icy air. A mountain stared back at me, rocky and wild. If I took four steps forward, I’d pitch off the edge. Vertigo spun my head, and I clung to Kian’s hand, unable to say a word. This looked like Tibet—or the pictures I’d seen anyway. Deep down, I’d always wanted to go … to kneel in a holy place with the silent monks. Could he
know
this about me? I glimpsed no civilization, just trees, rocks, and stars. The cold gnawed through me; I was dressed for late spring in Boston, not in Sherpa gear. Shock paralyzed me for a few seconds.

God, I had to be out of my damn mind.
Hey, coma dream, how you doing? Let’s see where this takes you.
But on the off chance it was real, I whispered, “Stop. Make it stop.”

Another shift, and we were back at Cuppa Joe. My hands felt like chips of ice. His, still wrapped around mine, radiated the same heat I’d noticed when he touched my shoulder. I glanced around wildly, wondering if anyone reacted to our disappearance. The other patrons showed no signs that anything was wrong, but people didn’t
do
that. Vanish and materialize, like somebody was beaming us in a transporter.

But maybe that was key.
People
didn’t. Kian had called me an exceptional human, implying he wasn’t. I’d been full of breezy skepticism before; it died on that mountaintop. I drew my hand away, took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm my pounding heart.

“How come nobody even blinked? That was some straight-up
Star Trek
stuff.”

“This is our place,” he said. “Company owned. I can’t tell you more right now.”

“Well, that jaunt registers pretty high on the she’ll-take-me-seriously meter.”

“I don’t usually have to resort to it this early in the conversation,” he admitted.

My milk shake was still sitting on the table, melting into baby-pink goop. “Sorry I cut you off. You said something about extremis?”

He nodded. “That’s when a human is about to die.”

Oddly, that cheered me. “So I was going to succeed.”

Kian didn’t seem so pleased. “Yes. In a sense, you’re already gone, Edie. If your fate wasn’t currently in limbo, I wouldn’t be permitted to talk to you. There’s a pivotal moment just before death, when bargains can be made. I’m authorized to offer you three favors now in return for three favors later.”

“I don’t understand. What kind of … favors?”

“Anything you want,” he said.

“
Anything?
” By my tone, it had to be obvious I meant things bigger and more impossible than tickets to Tahiti.

“My ability to change your life is limited only by your imagination.”

“But then you can ask me for anything,” I pointed out. “Three times. What if it’s not something I can deliver?”

“The favors requested in return will always be within your power to grant. That’s the way it works.”

“But there are no parameters of what you might ask … or when. It might be terrible. Or illegal.” Too well, I remembered “The Monkey’s Paw,” the burden of being a reader. Somebody who spent less time lost in books might’ve already signed on the dotted line.

“You were ready to throw your life away,” Kian said. “But are you brave enough to change it?”

“You never answered me. What
are
you?”

“How would that help you decide? If I’m a demon, I’m unlikely to admit it, so I could say anything. How would you know if I’m telling the truth?”

He had me there. I scowled and sipped my shake, the possible dangers and consequences banging around my head. Since I’d accepted I didn’t have a future, it seemed less scary to consider everything that could go wrong down the line. If my life imploded twenty years later when the bill came due, wouldn’t it be worth it to be happy first? It had been so long since I laughed that I couldn’t remember what it felt like to walk around without this awful weight in my chest.

“In a theoretical sense, say I agree to your deal. Is there a time limit on when I have to use my favors?”

Appreciation sparked in his gaze. Kian inclined his head. “The first must be used within a year. The rest within five.”

“To prevent people from getting what they want with the first, then sitting on the others until they die, thus blocking you from asking anything in return.”

“Exactly. The return favors may be collected anytime after completion of our side of the bargain.”

“So repayment could be due anytime. Talk about living under the hammer.”

“Some people feel that way. Others live in the moment and don’t worry about what might come.”

I jammed the straw deep into my glass, chewing my bottom lip. “This sounds pretty diabolical. I hope you know that.”

“I’m aware.” Sorrow threaded his tone, making me wonder what could make someone like
him
sad.

“Can you tell me anything about the people you work for?”

“At the moment, no.”

I’d like to glean some more information before making a decision, but his response implied he could only answer questions after I agreed to the terms. That seemed shady; it couldn’t be good if my benefactors preferred to hide in the shadows. One thing could be said of this situation; curiosity had supplanted despair as my dominant emotion.

“You said you come to exceptional humans. Why me?” I was brainy, but not the kind of smart that cured cancer.

“If I told you
why
we want to save you, it could screw up your timeline.”

“You mean if I learn that I solve cold fusion, then I might not. I might decide to breed rabbits instead.”

“You hate rabbits,” Kian said gently.

“Yeah.” I did—since one bit me in the fourth grade—but how weird that he knew.

“The deal is on the table. Choose, Edie.”

From here, I sensed it was up to me. “Can I have some time to think about it?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“It comes down to a leap then, either way. You can put me back on the bridge … only this time you don’t stop me. Will it be like we never came here or went to the mountain?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. For someone like me, there could be only one reply.

THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS

“I’m in. Obviously my life sucks. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

Kian smiled, a soft breath of relief escaping him, like he truly cared, and he was glad he didn’t have to dump me back on the bridge. More likely, he worked on commission. Life had made me cynical, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He reached into his pocket and drew out a shining silver coin. At first glance, it could’ve been a quarter; it was around the same size. But there was a symbol I couldn’t identify engraved on one side; more similar to a kanji than any Western language I’d seen, yet I didn’t think it was Japanese. Kian flipped it over, revealing an infinity sign on the back.

“Let me have your wrist.”

“Why?”

“Accepting the mark formalizes the agreement.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Yes. But it’s quick.”

I appreciated his honesty. A deep breath escaped me as I pushed my right hand toward him. His fingers were warm and sure, exposing my palm, then he slid back my sleeve. As promised, it burned like fire when the metal touched my flesh. A glimmer of light shimmered—almost like a photocopier—and an intense prickle-pain worked beneath my skin. He pressed the coin even tighter to my flesh, until I almost couldn’t bear it. I bit my lower lip, blinking hard against rising tears. Just when I thought I’d scream, the sensation eased off.

“Done?” he asked, watching my face.

“You’re asking me?”

“When it stops hurting, I can pull the token away.”

“It just feels like metal now.”

With a relieved look, he removed it and I studied the mark on my arm. My parents would freak if they saw it, since it resembled a tattoo. Oddly, there was no residual pain, and the skin didn’t look red or irritated, as I’d seen on people who came to school with new ink.

“There’s no special care required,” Kian told me. “But I’m afraid we’re not finished. I need your other arm.”

“The other symbol?” I guessed.

He nodded. “The infinity sign signifies your agreement to the deal. You need the other mark to identify your affiliation.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It tells certain parties that you’re an asset, or part of the opposition.”

“So showing it could help or hurt me, depending on who sees it?” This crap was getting more complicated by the second.

“Yes.”

“Am I allowed to cover these up with armbands or bracelets?”

“Sure. You just can’t change them with normal ink or remove them via laser.”

“Can’t or aren’t allowed to?” There was a fairly substantial difference.

“It’s not physically possible with existing technology.”

“That’s the least of my worries anyway.” Sighing faintly, I braced and gave him my left arm, wishing I knew what that kanji meant.

This time, I was better prepared for the searing pain. The tears spilled and overflowed despite my best efforts, but I didn’t utter a sound while he marked me. At last the coin reverted to cool metal instead of molten lava and I nodded at Kian. He pulled the token away and dropped it into his pocket.

“We’re almost done. Can I see your cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

It was jammed in my right front pocket. My parents insisted I keep it with me, because we communicated mainly via text. I suspected they’d use my cell like a LoJack to track me if I went missing.
You almost did.
I imagined myself floating in the dark water like Ophelia, only I wouldn’t leave a pale and lovely corpse with flowers tangled in my hair.