Macbeth

[Ash]

*gears up* Nuuuuuuuuuuu! Why, Craig, why...

Cerulean, you're a bit too good at this writing business I read 2 whole chapters on my phone screen cuz they were so interesting that I couldn't stop/walk 3 feet to my laptop yesterday 

[Phoenix004]

:O Her own brother?

Awesome work as always Cerulean, you're far too good with the cliffhangers, lol.

[Faerie Larka]

ZOMG

Holy crapness that's so fecking amazing.  GERARGH!!!

[Kelly]

ohhhh Craig what's wrong with you?! I hope he's been blackmailed or something!

Another fantastic chapter, Often is awesome

[Kitulean]

Whooo, new chapter! Sorry for the delay, guys.

Chapter Eleven

"Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings." - Macbeth, Act I, Scene III

"Bagel bagel bagel bagel. Bageluh. Buhaaayguluh." Noticing me staring at her in the middle of her chanting, Often stopped and turned her head. "What? It's a fun word. Baaaay guuuulll." She stretched out the word and then giggled before spreading strawberry cream cheese over her particular word of the day.  We were sitting in an out door cafe, waiting for Tavelli to show up.

"Oh yeah, it's a great word." I sat back and eyed the crumbs that were all that were left of the rest of what she had ordered. "You know, when you order a dozen bagels, I'm fairly sure they expect you to take some of them home with you."

Often scoffed at this idea. "That's just silly. If I took it home, what would I eat here?" She eagerly took a large bite of the bagel that she had just finished slathering, smiling in satisfaction. "So, are you going to call him?"

I started to shake my head. "He'll be here soon enough." She looked at me and I got it. "Oh." I winced. "You mean Craig." Letting out a long sigh, I flicked a couple crumbs away absently. "Why? What would I say? 'Hey, Craig, why are you working with the manifestation of universal evil?'"

"True." The other girl smiled. "That might be reaching a little bit at first. Maybe you should start with why didn't you get me a birthday present and work your way up." She sobered then. "Seriously, Mac, you've got to talk to him. If you'd like, I could put him in a coma and then you could chat without being interrupted."

"As tempting as that is." I replied dryly. "I don't think it would get me a lot of answers." I reached out and picked up the cup of heavily sugared coffee, draining the last of it. Often had insisted on hot chocolate for herself, which she had occasionally dipped a piece of bagel into.

She scoffed at that comment. "Babe, let me tell you the most important piece of philosophy that I've picked up in two hundred years." She paused before laying this pearl of wisdom of the ages on me. "Sometimes, you've just got to smack a ****."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Therapeutic as that may be, I don't even know where Craig is or what number he has or anything."

After considering for a moment, my companion offered. "Try looking in the phonebook under douchebag? Or Arnold comma Bennedict? Ass comma Jack?"  Finishing the last of her final bagel, she pushed a hand back over her spiky pink hair in frustration. "Where is this cop buddy of yours anyway?"

"He might actually be listed under that last one. I think he gets called that more than his name." Straightening up, I pointed. "There he is. Tavelli, I mean." The man was walking between the tables toward us, wearing dark sunglasses and a distinctly annoyed expression.

"Your brother's a piece of work." Tavelli announced once he reached the table. He looked both frustrated and tired, with worry lines bunched up on his forehead.

"G'morning to you too." Often replied as she finished carefully wiping her hands on a napkin. "You must be the cop." She eyed him a little critically. "Are you any good?"

"Am I any--" The man cut himself off and cast his look over to me to ask. "Who exactly is this, again?"

Often scoffed at that before standing up. "If you were any good, you'd already know who I was. You could use your spy satellites from the secret headquarters, analyze my retina, and compare it to your international database." By the end of this, she had dumped the trash in the nearby can and stood with her arms folded while darting her eyes around expectantly, as though she could spot back-up agents diving behind bushes.

"I'm a cop." Tavelli replied with a raised eyebrow. "Not James Bond. I'm barely allowed to requisition my own car, let alone a satellite. I'm lucky if I an get my gps to work."

He continued to look at me expectantly until I waved a hand. "This is Often. She's a friend." If she wasn't going to bring up the whole dryad thing, then neither would I. "What happened with Craig?"

Tavelli looked like he wanted to ask more about where Often had come from or what her connection to this was, but he let it go. "Your brother managed to talk a judge into letting that **** out onto the streets again. She's supposed to be back in court next week, but somehow I don't think she'll show."

The tables nearby were empty, but I still didn't feel exactly comfortable talking about this sort of thing out in the open. I lowered my voice. "Even if she did, she's going to use those explosives long before next week. She's lost it, and she knows I--I mean we're after her.  Whatever she wants, she's going to go after it as soon as she can. She'd be crazy to wait, which I admit in her case makes it more likely, but I still think she's going for it."

Letting out a long sigh as he cracked the knuckles in his left hand, Tavelli slowly nodded. "You're probably right. Unfortunately, unless you have some way to magically find her, I don't know what we can do about it." He paused in thought, then began slowly. "She didn't learn to build a bomb from watching the home cooking network. That had to come from somewhere."

"Yeah." Often agreed. "Like maybe the internet. You can learn to build anything, even a bomb."

"True." Tavelli agreed. "But doing it and not blowing yourself up, with only a couple days notice, that's another thing." He waved a hand before he could be interrupted. "I know, she could have been planning this for a long time, but I just, something about this tells me that she 's flying by the seat of her pants. Whatever happened to push her this way, it wasn't that long ago. Everything I've read about this girl says she was normal up until she sliced and diced her boyfriend."

"Okay." I started with a frown. "So we need to know what happened to her. Maybe if we know what happened to her, we can figure out what she's going to do, and who she's going to do it to."

Often grinned. "I love this, it's like watching actual cops." At Tavelli's look, she amended. "Oh right, you are one. Sorry, my memory isn't my fault. I blame cheeze wiz and MTV." After a moment, she added. "Also, prohibition and Woodstock." She grinned at his confusion.

Clearing his throat pointedly, Tavelli looked at me. "There's no one at her apartment now. I already looked at it, but maybe you can find something." He checked his watch. "I have to be back at the station in a few minutes."

"Oh yeah." Often looked doubtful. "Because she's really going to be stupid enough to hang around her apartment when she knows someone's after her."

I agreed that it was doubtful, but I had the feeling he was sending me there just because he was so certain Emily would never show up there. But he was right, there was a chance I might be able to find something. So I nodded.  "Maybe there'll still be something there. I'll call you if we find anything."

"And if we don't," Often started. "We'll call a real cop. Someone with satellite privileges." Nodding firmly, she started to walk away, stopping to snag a few extra packets of sugar from another table, which she tore open and poured down her throat.

Tavelli looked at me and I raised a hand to ward him off. "Don't ask. But she's a new friend. Trust me, she's cool. Do you have Emily's address?"

He nodded slowly, with some relunctance, as though he was rethinking this whole thing. But he handed the paper with the woman's address to me anyway. "Just be careful. Call me if absolutely anything happens. I shouldn't even know that you're going to go in there, but I couldn't even begin to explain these circumstances to anyone. But if you get caught."

"I know." I said. "You never heard of us."

That made him raise his sunglasses and roll his eyes. "No. If you get caught by the good guys, have them call me. I'll see what I can do. Just try not to get caught."

I smiled and leaned up, briefly pecking his cheek absently. "Hey. You're the one who ends up handcuffed in the back of a van, if you recall. You be careful."

A moment later I caught up with Often, who stood there grinning at me. "D'awww, that was sweet. You gave him a kiss. Do you like him?"

That snapped my head around to her. If I'd been drinking anything, she would have been sprayed with it. Far too many good spit-takes have been wasted this way. "Wh-what?! Do I what? Oh no. No."

Her smile grew more teasing. "Are you sure? You did give him a kiss."

"On his cheek!" I protested, waving both hands like a crazy person. "I kissed him on the cheek! I kiss my grandmother like that."

"Okay, sure." The other girl started to agree. "But your grandmother doesn't check out your butt when you walk away."

That made me spin around so fast to look behind us that I nearly fell over. I did end up tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and fell into Often, who was laughing while she straightened me. "You jerk." I elbowed her. "He was not. Come on, he's like my father's age!"

"So?" My companion asked with a blank look. "I'm like, your great-great-great-great-grandfather's age and I'd still hit that. If the plumbing still works, quit ****ing about what year the pipes were installed."

"Wait, you're..." I started to ask, then stopped, feeling awkward for a moment. Yeah, I could practically throw myself at  bullets day in and day out, but I got flustered when it came to someone's orientation.

"Babe." She smiled  with absolute confidence. "After a certain number of years, you stop worrying about semantics." For once, Often looked completely serious. "This is a really big world, Mac, and there's a lot of really bad people in it. If you find something really good, you have to grab it and hold onto it as tight as you can. You have to fight for it. So if you find someone who makes you happy, you don't let them go. No matter who, or what they are, you fight for them. And damn whoever can't accept that."

Seeming to feel that she'd become too serious there, the girl gave a light hearted shrug. "Besides, why go through the carnival of life if you're going to ignore half the rides?"

*******************************************************************

About half an hour later, the two of us were walking into the courtyard of the apartment building where Miss Emily Elsicon had her place of residence. It was a dumpy little place far from any of the beaches that Miami is so known for. There was one tired little palm tree surrounded by brown grass in the court yard that looked almost as desperate to get out of there as the few worn down people we passed.

Wincing as she looked over her shoulder at the old tree, Often held up her hand. "You uhhh, you go ahead. I'm going to do something about that." She started to walk that way, and I stood there briefly while she sat down and started to quietly talk to it. Around her, on the ground, the dried up and dead grass slowly but noticeably turned green. No one else seemed to notice this private miracle.

Often turned back to give me an encouraging wave. I guessed that, as a nature spirit, or whatever she was exactly, she couldn't just ignore a suffering tree. So, nodding to her, I continued on, glancing at the paper that had the address on it until I found the right place.

The door wasn't criss crossed with police tape. I guessed because no crime had actually been committed there. It wasn't until that point that I wondered if Tavelli had put any thought to how I was going to get in. Maybe he purposefully didn't think about it.

Two years ago, the locked door would have stumped me. Today, I just stepped closer to the door and produced a small item from my pocket. Almost a year earlier, a grateful biker had given this bump key to me and explained how to use it. It hadn't failed yet.

An ordinary key works by having the ridges set just so that the pins within the lock are lined up along a shear line. Once they're lined up, the lock can turn.  A  bump key is a key that has most of the teeth filed down. It works by inserting the key most of the way into the lock and then hitting the end of it. The jarring force will, in most cases knock the pins up into place for a brief moment. If you're pushing on the key at the right time, you can open the lock in that slight opportunity. It takes a bit of practice but it's a little frightening how easy it is once you have the right idea.

It took me a couple tries, and two different bump keys to find one that fit well enough, but a minute later I was inside the apartment. It looked nicer on the inside than the building it was in would have let me believe. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was cozy and looked decent for the neighborhood.

I was standing in an entryway. To my left there was a small kitchen. Straight ahead I could see a door that looked like it led to a bathroom. The open area to the right was obviously meant to be a small living room, and I could see a doorway at the far end of the living area that was most likely the bedroom.

Slowly, I stepped into the living room and began to look around. I wasn't sure what I hoped to find, because in my experience, most psychopaths don't leave journals around detailing their change from ordinary person into mass murdering nut jobs. It's inconvenient, let me tell you.

I turned to the kitchen and checked the front of the fridge. For what, I couldn't tell you. It wasn't like I was going to find a sticky note that said 'Self, the voices started again. Time to blow **** up.' along with a list of targets.

However, what I did find was a note with the name of the hotel that Maisie and her son had taken me to, along with a phone number. The note looked like it had been there for a few days. Which meant that, unless I wanted to believe in coincidences, Maisie had been in contact with Emily since before I'd arrived in town.  What the hell did that mean?

A voice from behind me interrupted my thoughts. At some point I'm going to learn not to turn my back to anything in strange places. I'll just walk through life, continually rotating in circles. The voice said. "Now, are you really supposed to be in here?"

I turned, but I already knew who the voice belonged to. I expected the man, but what he held was a surprise. "Hey, Craig." I began. "Is that a gun in your hand, or are you just happy to see me?"

[Faerie Larka]

Damn.  You're good at that whole 'twist the ending so that people will go through withdrawal when I don't post for a month'

LOVED the new update.  I'm so excited to see what happens with Emily.

[Kelly]

I knew Mac shouldn't have gone in by herself!!! Hopefully Often will kick butt. 

thank you for updating!

[Ash]

Great, great, great new chapter. Often's lines are infectious!

[Phoenix004]

Another great chapter! Often has added an extra element of inappropriate humour combined with the wisdom of old age which I find highly entertaining.

[Kitulean]

Hey hey hey, it wasn't a month this time, at least. I'm glad everyone likes Often. She doesn't have a very big part in this chapter, but obviously there's a reason for that. And I hope you like it anyway. Here goes!

Chapter Twelve

"When our actions do not, our fears do make us traitors." - Lady Macduff, Act IV, Scene I

Maybe I should have been surprised to see my brother at Emily's house. But the truth was, at that point there wasn't much that could possibly have shocked me. It was getting to the point where I could have been made Queen of England and my only response would have been to assume they wanted me to pay for my own airfare.  Actually, come to think of it, being a national ruler would be less responsibility. Let me in on that action.

I looked to the small pistol held tightly in Craig's outstretched hand, then back up to his face. His mouth was tight, and he looked tired. I'd make a note of telling him he should get more sleep, assuming he didn't shoot me. If he did shoot me, screw his exhaustion. "Craig." I started carefully, since he hadn't responded yet. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Craig repeated the question and tapped the pistol against his chest briefly. Craig isn't a big guy. He's about five foot eight with premature baldness just starting to creep up on him as he edged nearer to thirty. All through childhood, he'd been a skinny little boy, but in the past few years he'd started packing a little bit of extra weight in the front. He used to wear contacts, but around the time he went to law school, he switched to glasses. I guess he thought they made him look more distinguished or thoughtful. Now he was squinting at me through them. "I'm here because you're here." He thrust the pistol toward me to emphasize his words. "I'm here because of you! Because you think you can do anything you want and no one's going to say a damn thing!"

Buhwha? Wait a minute, what? I was right with him up until that last comment and then he completely lost me. He was the lawyer. I was the drop-out. We kind of all knew who won the top spot in mom and dad's picture album.  "Craig--" I began to question him slowly. "What--"

"Stop it!" His shout filled the room and I was briefly worried that someone would complain or investigate. "Stop calling me that, you ****ing ****!" He crossed the room and pushed the barrel of the pistol into my cheek while his other hand grabbed for my arm. "You think I won't do it just because of your little game?! You think I won't do it because of this?!" The barrel was digging painfully into my flesh and his gaze was one of utter fury. I couldn't understand it.

Acutely aware of the gun pressed firmly against my face, I swallowed very slightly before speaking quietly. It's funny the way people shout when everyone's pointing guns but when it's one gun, and one target, you whisper. It's like you're afraid that any loud noise will make the gun go off. I don't understand all of the logic, but I was completely buying into it. Hell, given the choice I would have reverted to sign language or quite possibly carrier pigeon to communicate.  My voice was as quiet and steady as I could make it given the circumstances. "Don't call you what?"

His face contorted and for a brief moment I thought he was going to pull the trigger, then his mouth twitched in disgust and he flung me away from him onto the couch with a yell. "Craig! Don't call me that like you know me! You don't know me! I know you. I know your games. I know your little tricks. I know everything so don't try to fool me! Don't ****ing talk! You stay there. You ****ing stay there!" He seemed half crazed as he took a step back.

I hit the couch and turned over, staring in confusion at my brother as he looked at me like I was some kind of monster. Like I was a freak. I spoke before I could think. "Craig--"

His move was instantaneous. He came at me and I saw a flash of the gun moving, then blinding pain as the pistol smacked me upside the head and knocked me sideways. My head was bleeding and I felt his spittle as he shouted. "Don't ****ing call me that! Don't try your god damn games! They won't work! I know what you are! I know what you're trying to do and it won't ****ing work!" He lowered his voice finally, physically trembling as he gripped my chin, obviously forcing himself to calm down enough to speak coherantly. "I know. I know it all. You can't fool me. I don't know what you want, what you hope to gain through all this." His hand was squeezing my face tight and I thought I saw a tear in one of his eyes. "I don't know why you're doing this. But I don't care. Just..." His voice trailed off slightly and the hand without the gun moved to brush through my hair as I saw a flash of pain pass through his features. "Just let her go. Let my sister go."

Just a few minutes ago, when I said nothing could surprise me anymore? I was wrong. I was completely and utterly stunned. My mouth fell open in confusion. "Wait. Wait." I tried to get a handle on what he was talking about, but nothing made sense. "What do you mean? IWhat are you saying? I am--"

His needful, almost desperate look turned angry and he shoved me backwards on the couch before jerking himself upright to point the little gun at me once more.  "Don't say you're her! Don't say you're Macbeth! I know you're not! I know! Maisie told me all about your little game. She told me how you infest people, how you slither right into their bodies and take them over! I don't know how you got my sister, but it ends here! It ends now! You go do whatever you need to do but you let Macbeth go!" He was breathing wildly as the gun shook in his hand. "I already got the girl out of jail, the girl you tried to use!  She's gone and you'll never find her again. So just leave Macbeth alone and get the hell out!"

Even if I had known exactly what to say at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to speak through the shock. My brother wasn't working with Maisie because he was evil, or because she paid him to do it. He wasn't being greedy or even callous. He was trying to rescue me. He thought I was infested or possessed or something. Maisie had convinced him that I wasn't myself, that I was evil. My brother was trying to save me.

After a moment of staring at me, Craig lowered the pistol slightly. "What are you doing?" His tone was one of both suspicion and confusion. I realized then that I was crying. The tears fell and I couldn't stop them. Everything that I had been through, every truth that I'd had to accept, and it was the thought that my brother was still my brother that broke me. He wasn't perfect, and we weren't exactly close growing up. He had flaws. He could be selfish, he didn't like a lot of people, and he was greedy. But he was my brother. He was still my brother. 

At first I didn't trust myself to speak. The constant emotional tilt-a-whirl that had become my life had tossed me through another loop. Finally, I managed. "You're not bad." My voice choked partway through and I repeated myself. "You're not bad. You're not the bad guy." I closed my eyes and repeated it a third time silently, barely able to believe how relieved I was. "You're trying to help. You were trying to help me."

I don't know what Craig might have said to that, because the firm click of the door shutting drew both of our attentions that way. Micky the Pseudo-Janitor, cleaner of spills and spiller of blood, stood facing me with a creepy little smile. He took his hand off the knob and stepped away from the door, having shut it behind him. "Good job, Craig. Good. We're ready to go." He looked to my brother and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, just an aww shucks, comrades kind of motion. It made me angry. "Pretty soon, we'll get the little **** tugged right out of little sissy and you'll be all set."

"No." I was on my feet, talking to Craig but facing Micky. "He's lying, Craig. They're both lying. I've changed, I'm changed, but it's not a bad thing. I'm me, Craig. I'm still me. I'm not evil, they're evil. They're using you." I wanted to convince my brother of what I was saying, but either way I wasn't going with them. I just needed a way out. Briefly, I wondered just how long Often was going to be busy with that tree. But I couldn't just wait for her to show up. I had to get out of this myself.

There was hesitation in Craig's expression, but he kept the gun pointed at me. "Shut up. Just shut up! You're not her! She wouldn't drop out of school. She wouldn't make mom and dad crazy by disappearing all the time. Everywhere you go, all those places you visit, people get hurt!"

Now I shouted back at him. "I'm doing my best! Yes, people get hurt. Yes, I wish I could stop it all. But I can't stop it all! I'm just one person. They get hurt, and sometimes they die and I can't stop that!  I hate it! I hate this responsibility! I hate it and I love it! It's terrible and wrong and it's absolutely what I'm supposed to be doing! I didn't ask for this responsibility! I didn't ask to be the one who chooses who to save and who gets hurt! Every time someone gets hurt because I couldn't stop it, every time someone dies because I wasn't fast or strong enough, I think I was wrong. Every time I fail, I think that I'm the wrong person for this. But I'm not. I'm not the wrong person. I can fail nine times out of ten, and watch nine people die! But that one time. That one time! That time, I save a man's life. I save a life that would have died. I save someone who would have died if I didn't make the choice to be there. And that's when I know, that's how I know, no matter how often I fail. No matter how many people hate me, no matter who they turn against me, this is where I belong. I'm not a bad guy, Craig. I'm not possessed. I'm me. I do this because I choose to. Not because I'm possessed,  not because of  powers, not because of visions. Because it's where I choose to be. It's what I choose to do."

After I finished speaking there was a moment of silence, then Micky began to clap mockingly. "Bravo. Oh bravo. Encore! That was beautiful and so touching." He raised his chin while wiping away a mock tear, then stared straight at me dangerously. "Now shut the hell up so we can go."

Craig still looked torn, so I sighed. "I'm sorry, Craig." Then I lunged forward and brought my knee up fast into his stomach. I heard the breath explode out of him and there was a clatter as he dropped the gun. I didn't see where it went, and didn't have time to scramble for it. I let my brother crumple and started for the door. I never got that far. There was a sudden burning pain in my scalp as Micky grabbed my hair and hurled me backwards. My back hit the kitchen counter and I saw his fist coming at me. I managed to jerk myself down out of the way, but just as quickly his leg came up and nailed me in my side, knocking me into the kitchen table. 

I hit the table with a grunt. I felt the large man coming up behind me, and forced myself to move even though the blow from the pistol earlier was still making me dizzy. As I turned, I jerked the dining chair backwards and into Micky's path.  Fun fact, when you slam your knee into an unmoving barrier, even the world's most unstoppable assassin, well, stops. I heard the crack as wood met knee and then he screamed in pain and started to fall.

Reminding myself to congratulate me later, I pushed away from the table. But before I could go more than a step, my foot was grabbed and yanked out from under me. I cried out and hit the floor on my side. Immediately, Micky was practically on top of me. His gaze was blurred by hatred and pain and his hands closed around my throat in an iron grip. "You ****!" He screamed at me. "You ****ing ****!" I struggled, bringing my hand up to claw down his face, but he didn't even seem to notice. If anything his grip grew tighter. I was starting to see spots.

Then I heard a shout that wasn't either of us and a loud, echoing gunshot filled the room. Micky's grip finally slackened as he looked down blankly at the hole in his chest that oozed blood. Together, both of us turned to see Craig standing with the gun raised. He was pale, but firm. "Get... your hands.... off of my sister."

Micky coughed, and blood came up. Despite everything, he smiled, his weight still pinning me down. "That was a bad idea, kid." His voice was strained, but he didn't appear particularly worried. "Now she'll never help Darryll." Before I could begin to process what that meant, a black shape tore itself from the man's body. It was something like a shadow, but more substantial. As it brushed over me, I felt an intense cold. It was slippery, like oil.

The body collapsed on top of me, and then his head raised. The blue aura of a man about to die lit the room, and I didn't have time to wonder why I hadn't seen any aura just before Craig shot him. His eyes were full of pain and regret.  The voice for once was not mocking or confident. It cracked with the effort of speaking. "Stop... him. Don't let him... take your brother. Stop."

 It came to me then.  The truth. The slippery shadow thing that oozed through the air was Micky. And this poor, dying man was Darryll. Even as I realized that, the man lost his last breath and fell on top of me. There was nothing I could do for him. And, as I pushed myself out from under the body and rose, I saw that there was nothing I could do for Craig. The last vestiges of the oily shadow thing disappeared  into his body, and he staggered. I opened my mouth to shout. "Craig! Leave him alone!" But even as I spoke, I knew it was too late. Micky had a new host.

HIs gaze locked on mine and I knew it wasn't my brother any more. He started to raise the gun, and I turned. He was blocking the door, but I had a different route in mind. His first shot blew through the table to my left. I could only assume that he was still getting situated and his aim wasn't perfect yet. I started to run, even as a second shot destroyed a vase practically under my arm. I was sprinting, straight at the window. My legs propelled me, but it was my adrenaline that kept me going. A third shot whistled through my hair, and then I was at the window.

Tucking my arms over my face as I lowered my head, I let out a kamikazi scream as I slammed through it.  Glass shards sprayed everywhere and I felt a brief moment of euphoria. Then I started to fall. Emily's apartment had been on the fourth floor. About fifty feet up. Probably not enough to die, but no sane person would want to fall that far. Luckily for me, sanity hadn't been a problem in a long time.

The air rushed around me and I heard my brother's voice yell a curse. Then blinding pain filled me as I slammed into the grass. I felt both legs snap and then my arm did the same as I fell forward onto it. I screamed in pain, but forced myself to focus. I wasn't dead. I hadn't died, and anything short of death, I can deal with. That's not to say it doesn't hurt like a ****, but at least I was alive. And quickly, as I focused on the injuries first in my legs, then my arm, the pain passed. I healed myself.

Often appeared over me, her eyes wide with concern. "Macbeth!" When she saw that I was okay, she let out her breath. "Dude, when you jump off a building, you're supposed to have the power to teleport yourself through the trees so you don't get hurt."

I grunted slightly, lifting myself up with her help. "I knew I forgot something." I remarked before glancing up to the now empty window. People were already starting to come out to see what the commotion was. "Let's go! Go! We have to get out of here."

To her credit, Often didn't ask any questions. She just turned and started to move with me. I took a single step, and then I fell forward. Not because of any lingering pain, but because a vision filled my mind. I saw Emily. I saw her press her hands against that very glass that I had just crashed through. I saw how much she loved the view from her apartment. I saw how she spent hours at the window, just watching people. And then, with the connection established, I saw what she planned to do. I saw why she needed the bomb.

I came out of it to the sound of Often cursing as she shook me. "Mac! Wake up."

Groggily, I blinked my eyes open. We were somewhere indoors. I looked around. "Where are we?"

Often let out a breath of relief. "Gods, you've been out of it for fifteen minutes. I thought I was going to have to call a doctor or something. Are you okay?" She looked worried as her hand gripped my shoulder. "What the hell was that?"

"That--" I said with forced calm. "--was a vision. Wait, are we..." I looked around the place she had brought me. "Are we in a KFC?"

"Hey." The other girl retorted, starting to be herself once more now that she was sure I wasn't in a coma or anything. "If I was going to have to carry you to the hospital, I needed fuel."

I laughed despite myself and waved a hand. "It's okay, it's all right." I finished sitting up, finding myself in one of the booths at the back of the restaurant. I wasn't sure how she'd carried me in without attracting attention. I winced a little, thinking of Craig and how I had failed him just as he saved me, just as he believed me. But I wouldn't dwell. I couldn't. All I could do was promise myself that I would free my brother. Then I remembered the point of what I had seen. "I know why she's doing it."

Often turned back to me. "What?"

"Well, not why she's doing it." I amended myself. "But I know what. I know who. I know why Emily needs that bomb. I know what her real target is." As Often met my gaze quizzically, I went on. "She wants to blow up that hotel, the one from earlier. She wants to blow it up because she knows Maisie is there." I bit my lip, knowing the truth of what I was saying even if I didn't understand the why of it. "Emily wants to kill Maisie."

[Kelly]

Wow.

Best chapter yet! That was so emotional...poor Craig I'm so glad he's not evil though.

Good work

[Ash]

Did I mention your plot twists are giving me whiplash? XD Another winner of a chapter; thanks a bundle, Cerulean.

[Faerie Larka]

Ahhhhhh!  Awesomeness.

I'm glad Craig isn't horrible.  And Emily?  WHOA.  Cerulean, you are amazing.

[Phoenix004]

Nice work.

[Kitulean]

Chapter Thirteen

"Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth." - Second Apparition, Act IV, Scene I

"Tell me again why you think this girl wants to kill the old woman and her spawned by way of Jackie Chan son?" The doubt in Tavelli's voice was palpable. But at least he had come when I asked him to. Actually, it probably meant more that he came despite his doubts than if he had been completely certain.

"Because I saw three different outcomes. In every single one of them, she was pissed off because she didn't manage to nail Maisie." I turned away from examining the doors of the hotel. The three of us were standing across the street from the place. The ironic part was that in trying to find the girl who wanted to bomb the place, we probably looked like we were the ones casing the joint. "But she did manage to kill a couple hundred innocent people. Just not the person she was aiming for."

Tavelli frowned. "I don't suppose you happened to see where she was going to set the thing off at?"

I shook my head. "It was too indistinct. I just saw a blank room. It could have been a utility closet, I'm not sure. All I know is she has the explosives parked in a vehicle somewhere close to the hotel, probably in the garage. Could be the van I saw before or it could be something else. That's the thing about seeing visions of the future. They tend to change as you go. She has the detonator on her. She wants to make sure Maisie's caught in the blast and then get out of the way before pulling the trigger."

"Speaking of trigger, too bad she didn't invest in a sniper rifle." Often commented while delicately brushing her hand over the side of a tree, the way that one might comfort a friend. "Because I'd tell her to have at it.  That woman is extra creepy, super evil, mega dangerous." She squinted sidelong toward me. "I can't believe you're supposed to be related to her."

"I'm not." I replied just as I saw Tavelli's eyebrows go up. "I mean, I don't think I am. I mean, I don't want to be. I don't know. I'm not really related to her. She says we used to be sisters. Before I was born. Before I was reborn or whatever it is. What is it?"

Both of us looked to Often, who raised both shoulders. "I'm not exactly sure. From what she said, I guess you're both reincarnations of those women. Whether you're related now or not just because you used to be, that's more of a personal question, I think."

"Well," I started with false brightness. "I won't be claiming her on my taxes. You know, if I ever get around to doing them. I wonder if I can claim destiny itself as a dependant and get everything written off."

"Every what?" Tavelli asked with a wry smile. "You don't make a salary." He was still wore his starched white shirt and loose brown sports jacket. I had no idea how he managed to avoid passing out from over heating.

"Oh yeah." I rolled my eyes. "I'm strictly pro bono."

That brought Often's attention. "I wanted to talk to you about that. But uhh, away from Mr. Lawman." She gave the man a mock suspicious squint, which he ignored. "We wouldn't want to disturb his sensibilities."

Tavelli asked dryly. "Illegal or immoral?" His gaze was fixed on the hotel, and he sounded like he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know the answer.

Often gave it to him anyway after a moment's thought and calculation. "Seventy percent illegal. Thirty percent immoral. It's also ninety seven percent fun."

I asked before he could. "What about the other three percent?"

She grinned. "Stark raving terror."

"Ah." I nodded. "At least that'll be an upgrade from the sixty forty split I've got now."  I considered before asking. "Will there be ponies?"

"Girls." Tavelli interrupted shortly. I detected a distinct tone of 'Why am I on a stake-out with these two instead of trained surveilance operatives'. "Can we focus?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "You're just jealous because you want a pony too." Then I imagined the suit-attired detective riding one of the animals and had a snort-giggle fit. So I'm not exactly the epitome of professionalism. Give me a salary and I'll start clocking in. Add benefits and I might even dress up for the occassion.

My moment of daydreaming about forty hour work weeks and company cars was interrupted when I spotted something. "There." I almost raised my hand to point, but over the past years I've come to realize that if people have a sixth sense about being watched, they have seventh, eighth, and ninth senses about being pointed at. So I kept my hand down and just looked at the girl coming up the opposite sidewalk toward the hotel. It was Emily all right. She kept her head down and moved fast, but I knew it was her.

"Great." Tavelli sounded genuinely relieved that there was a psychopath with a bomb coming his way. I wasn't sure how to take that. "We've got to be careful about this. We don't want to--"

Often was already halfway across the street, cutting in front of a cab, which swerved and honked at her. Emily looked up and in a blink was running full tilt up the small walkway and into the hotel. Tavelli finished his sentence with a groan. "-spook her!" Then he was running, sliding over the hood of the same cab, the driver of which which was still swearing. I gave the cab a wide berth just in case three strikes was it and he started running over everyone in his way.

Inside, Tavelli was shooting Often a dirty look while the pair stood in the fancy lobby. Just as I caught up, he was berating her. "I want you to stay here in case she comes down. I'll--"

His look of exasperation grew as the other girl simply walked to the door to the stairs and shook her head at him. "One guy's gonna search this whole place? Sorry, Johnny Law but you're going to need help. What are you going to do, recruit the retirees in the hot tub to comb the building for you?"

He looked like he might be considering just that, but he ground his teeth a little before looking at me. "We should evacuate the building. If she has a-" He lowered his voice. "If she has a bomb... We should hit the fire alarm."

I shook my head. "You do that and she'll immediately set it off. I saw it. She doesn't want to risk giving Maisie a chance to get out. Look, every single thing I saw of this showed the bomb going off at noon. It's eleven forty. We've got twenty minutes to find her. Let's split up and do it. Just... stay away from the penthouse. She wouldn't go straight there. That's why she made this bomb so big. She wanted to be sure, and she didn't want to get anywhere near her."

Tavelli looked doubtful, but finally nodded. "All right, fine. Find her. Stop her from setting it off. I'll start at the top and work down." He moved to slap the button for the elevator. "Good luck."

"You too." I turned to Often. "You do the middle. I'll go to the basement and catch up with you." She nodded and we both entered the stairwell before splitting up. I took the stairs two at a time going down, using the railing to balance. Once I was halfway down, I slowed and began to walk carefully.

The door to the basement wasn't locked. I turned it very slowly and gently eased the door open, mindful of noise. As the door swung open, I saw a short hallway with two doors on the left, one on the right, and one on the end. Through the first door on the left I could hear several washing machines and voices speaking conversationally in Spanish. That had to be the housekeepers. The door on the right was marked supplies, and when I eased it open, I saw a packed closet with no room for a crazy lady with an itchy trigger finger.

Moving down the hall, I checked the second door on the left. It looked like a break-room of some kind. There was a long table with a couple decks of cards laying on it, a small television tuned to some Stallone movie, and a couple of men in janitor's outfits passing the time by smoking. I didn't think Maisie had any more murderous custodian's on her payroll, so I closed the door again before they noticed me.

That left the last door, at the end of the hall. Moving to it, I started to push it open, then stopped at a noise. It sounded someone muttering. "Heads. Tails. Heads. Heads. Tails."  Oh fantastic. Were my own bad guys not enough? Did I need to borrow Two-Face from Batman's rogue's gallery too? Then I remembered that Two-Face used two headed coins and would have relaxed except, you know, woman with a bomb.

Trying not to let the door squeak, I pushed it open just enough to peer through. At first I didn't see anyone, but then the door was pulled straight out of my hand as Emily stepped into view, pointing a brand new gun she'd managed to acquire at me. I made a mental note to send the state governor a stern letter about firearms control issues.

Emily's voice was dark as she glared over the top of her gun at me. "If it isn't Magical Healing Girl. Get in here." She was turning the coin that she had apparently been flipping over and over in her other hand.

As I stepped inside and allowed the door to shut behind me, finding that we were in what looked like the boiler room, I commented. "I guess you can't come up with a good superhero codename for me either. Darn."

"Shut up." Her voice was bitter. "Just shut up, I have to think. She has to be here, right? She has to be here because where else would she be right now? She'd be waiting to find out about you. She doesn't like to go out on her own for no reason. She likes to delegate. Only what if she's not here? Heads she's here, tails she's not. But what if the coin is lying?"

Oookay, she was becoming even more unhinged. I winced and started. "Um. First of all, in my experience you should never let your homicidal impulses be dictated by a coin flip. For one thing, it's way too close to copyright infringement."

Emily's glare was hateful. "I told you to shut up. Just shut the **** up. Stop talking. Why is that so hard? I just want to kill this one little woman. Is that so bad?" She went on before I could try to figure out if a direct question countermanded the order to stop talking. "Just one little old woman. She has to die. She has to die for what she did, for what she took from me. I thought you could fix it, but of course not. Of course you wouldn't."

That confused me, and I asked very softly, watching the gun in her hand. "Emily, what did she take from you? What did you want me to fix? You never asked me to fix anything."

Her gaze snapped up to me. I think she might have actually forgotten that I was there for a moment while she had muttered to herself. "She stole it. They both did. They stole it from me because they wanted to get you here. All they wanted was to get you here and what happened to me didn't matter. They thought they could do it and just get you here and forget about me. But I won't let them forget. I won't let them ignore me, not after what they took."

She was starting to grow louder, and I glanced back at the door before carefully stepping further into the room, away from the entrance. I kept my voice as low and soothing as I could. "Emily, what exactly did they take from you?"

"My good!" The shout filled the room even as the tears filled the girl's eyes. "They stole my good! They put that dark thing in me, the dark man that controlled everything I did and when he left my good was gone. He hollowed out a place right inside me so he could steer and there wasn't any good left. I--" Her voice broke and for a moment she looked confused. "I know here... I know here what's wrong." Her hand moved to her head. "But I don't feel it. I can't feel the wrong. I can't feel the right. I can't feel it at all. It's wrong. I'm wrong. My self is wrong! My good is gone."

I reeled backwards and caught myself on the wall. My voice was a whisper. "Your conscience. He possessed you. He killed David Cellar, to draw me here. Somehow they knew I'd get the vision of it, or they sent it.  When... when he stopped possessing you, you didn't have a conscience anymore." I was horrified, and not just for her. Was this what Craig was going to be like even if I got Micky out of him? Was his sense of right and wrong, his conscience going to be completely gone, leaving his sanity to rapidly deteriorate as his mind failed to reconcile what he thought he should feel with the complete lack of that feeling?

My reeling horror was cut short by Emily's words, bringing my focus to her once more. "I think I should feel bad about this." She was pointing her gun at me. "But I can't."

I was staring down the barrel of that gun, starting to move onto my toes so that I could throw myself out of the way when it happened. In a moment as clear and profound as the time that I first saw Tavelli in my mind, my world changed completely. It started when Emily lashed out with the pistol and slammed it into my face, knocking me senseless to the floor.

Only, she didn't. At least, not yet. But I saw it. I saw it as clearly as if it had already happened. I knew exactly what she was going to do and how she was going to do it before she made any move for it. Even as the woman's hand lashed out, I was moving out of the way. I moved because I saw it coming, before anything could have told me it was.

Emily looked just as stunned as I must have. Then her leg moved and kicked me in the side of the leg just enough to knock me off balance and put me in position for her to get me in the throat with a backhand from the pistol.  

Only she didn't. Again, the image and complete knowledge of what she was going to do came to me before she did so. I started to move left, but another vision came, this one of Emily's corrected kick hitting my knee if I moved that way. Both visions, the images of what would happen came to me in frozen moments between milliseconds. No time seemed to pass in the real world while my mind took in the information and processed it.  I jerked backwards intead of moving left, and Emily's kick missed me completely.

I had no idea how this was happening. Somehow, I was viewing my own fate and changing it with split second timing. I didn't know it was possible, and I didn't know how long I could keep it up. I had to end this.

Emily attacked me again, but I moved aside. She lashed out once more with a shout, furious this time, and I stepped into her guard and started to raise my own right hand to punch her. But I saw her grab my arm and twist it around, so in mid motion I switched arms and nailed her with a left hook that knocked her against the wall.

Now she was pissed. Her hand came up with the pistol even as she grabbed for something in her pocket. I saw her take what looked like a PDA from her pocket. I saw myself lunge for it. I saw her shoot me in the stomach just before triggering the device and blowing up the hotel, having given up on getting away, desperate just to kill the woman responsible for taking away her conscience, for stripping her soul from her.

I saw it in the microseconds before it started to happen. Then the device came up. The pistol was trained on me. In my mind, my visions ran through half a dozen scenarios. I grabbed the pistol, she triggered the bomb. I went for the detonator, she shot me and blew it anyway.

Finally, this amazing power that I had been given settled on the one positive scenario. In the span of what had to be one second, I had seen the same five second sequence eight times before finding one that worked. It was impossible. It was a miracle.

As soon as I knew which move to make, I went for it. Rather than attack Emily immediately, I shouted at her. "Micky's here!" That raised her gaze to mine, and past it as she searched for the truth of that statement, just long enough for me to slap the remote from her hand and send it skittering along the floor.

Eyes wide with fury, Emily turned the pistol back to me, but I was already diving for the remote. Her first shot ricocheted off the wall, while her second barely missed the water heater, which I and the remote were already sliding behind, just the way the vision had shown that it would play out.

Unfortunately, the vision hadn't shown me what she would do after that. Even as my hand closed on the remote, I heard the door slam. I looked up to find myself in an empty room. She was gone. I cursed and pushed myself up to chase after her. The sound of the gunshot had attracted the staff, who stood in the hallway in confusion. I ran past them and shouted something about the boiler so that they'd check that out. The detonator was in my hand, so at least Emily wouldn't be blowing anyone up today. I hit the stairs and took them up as fast as I could.

In the lobby, I spotted Often coming away from the desk. I pointed at the closing door and shouted to her. "Emily!" She didn't even question it. Together, we ran through the doors. Emily was already near the corner of the building. Coming out that side exit, barely missing her, was Tavelli. He tried to grab the girl's arm but she raised her gun to shoot at him and he had to hit the dirt.

Often and I sprinted across the lawn, hurtling the decorative flower beds. "Emily!" I shouted. "Stop, let me try to fix you!" I had no idea if it was within my capability, but I had to try and say something that would make the girl slow or even stop. She didn't even pause though. Tavelli was on his feet a dozen yards ahead of us, chasing Emily around parked cars in the lot. I heard another shot, but no one seemed to be hit.

There was a moment where we couldn't see either of the others. Then I saw the van ahead of us, past another row of cars. "There!" I shouted, grabbing my companion's sleeve. "That way!" We cut around a station wagon, just as the van roared to life. It reversed away from us, and I could see Tavelli and Emily struggling in the front. Then the van jerked to a stop as she hit the brake and Tavelli, unbraced, was knocked off balance just long enough for Emily to bash him down.

"No!" I shouted. Emily raised her gaze to me and then touched two fingers to her lips before placing them against the roof of the van. Then she spun the van around and took off, with Tavelli.

Often and I both panted for a moment, standing in the parking lot while sirens drew closer. Someone had reported the gunshots. I looked at the van as it tore out of the lot, and dawning realization came over me. I looked to the other girl and saw in her dread-filled gaze the same knowledge.

My vision was coming true. Tavelli in the van with Emily. It was packed with explosives. She was panicking. I looked down at the detonator in my hand, but she wouldn't need it. Her van was going to jump that median. She wasn't going to kill Maisie. She was going kill herself, Tavelli, and a bus full of children.

And there was no way that I could catch up to them in time.

edit: had to fix some typos