Hunters in the Night (18 page)

“Sounds
like tomorrow is going to be busy then,” I said.

“Yep.
Which is why we should make the most of today.” Newton reached into his duffel
bag and retrieved a big bottle of red wine. “Canada is more of a beer country,”
he said, “but we did beer last time. Wine is a nice change of pace.”

“Is
it sweet?” I asked.

“Of
course.” Newton poured two plastic cups full of the amethyst liquid. I usually
avoided red wine. I find even the “sweet” ones to be bitter. But this
particular brand had a flowery sweetness that reminded me of pure grape juice —
grape juice with ten percent alcohol content.

“This
is pretty good,” I said. “Did you bring food?”

“Just
enough to last us,” Newton said. “Potatoes. Jerky. Cured meats. Nuts. Canned
veggies. The kind of stuff you’d find in someone’s bomb shelter.” He pulled out
a package labeled “Teriyaki Beef Jerky” and passed it to me. I bit into a strip
of the dark leathery meat. Chewy, but not bad.

As
I chewed I said, “Is this your stash from when you and your buddies go camping
or something?”

“I
don’t have camping buddies,” Newton said. “Not many buddies at all these days,
as a matter of fact. I haven’t had the opportunity for much social interaction.
The job requires too much of my time. That’s been especially true recently.”

“I’m
sure a clever fellow like you could make the time if he wanted.”

“Time
spent fraternizing is time not spent figuring out how to stay one step ahead of
the nightcrafters,” Newton said. “Besides . . . I’m not exactly a people
person.”

“Oh
come on,” I said. “You’re great with people.”

“I’m
great with you,” Newton said. “Not so much with others.”

“And
why is that?” I asked.

“Long
story.”

“We
have time,” I said. “And I never got a chance to look at your file. So the only
way I’m going to learn more about you is if you tell me.”

“You
really want me to spill my guts about why I don’t have a social life?”

I
took another sip of wine and said, “Absolutely.”

“Okay
then,” Newton said. He paused for a long while, and it seemed like he was
debating whether he should go on. “When I started college, I decided to do a
double major in physics and psychology,” he said. “I wanted to be a therapist
like my mother, but she never liked the idea.”

“Why
not?”

“She
used to warn me about the job all the time,” Newton said. “All those hours
spent listening to other people’s problems, getting in their heads, hearing their
darkest secrets. She said it changed her. It made her cynical and pessimistic.
She said she didn’t want that for me.”

“Sounds
like she was just looking out for you,” I said.

“She
was, and I appreciated that. But I was convinced that I would learn from her
experience and not make the same mistakes. So I went full out, balls to the
wall and studied everything I could about psychology. I was good at it, and I
loved being good at it. I loved being able to read people. It was the next best
thing to telepathy. But . . . it had a negative effect on my romantic life. I
would go out on dates and instantly start psychoanalyzing. Jerry had an Oedipus
complex. Mike was a classic case of social anxiety disorder. Ken probably had
body dysmorphic disorder. Robbie grew up with a schizophrenic mother. A lot of
times, when I try to get close to people, I don’t really see them as just
people. I see them as
cases
. Everyone has a file in my head. Everyone’s
foibles and faults and fixations are well cataloged. It’s great for navigating
the political environment of a government workplace, but it’s horrible for
anything remotely close to a normal dating life.”

“That
sounds a little dramatic,” I said. “It’s just a bad habit. You can fix that.
Just be more aware of what you’re doing in the moment.”

“So,”
Newton said, “you want me to be more like you?”

“Well,
I wasn’t trying to be all egotistical. But . . . yes, I guess. Be more like
me.”

We
both laughed and took another sip of wine.

“And
what about me?” I asked after letting the wine warm my insides. “Do you see me
as a case too? Which psychological disorder do I have?”

“You,”
Newton said as he tilted his plastic cup towards me, “are something of an
anomaly.”

“Oh
really? In what way?”

“You’re
completely sane,” Newton said.

I
laughed. “And that’s an anomaly?”

“Yes,
sir. We live in a crazy world, so it’s expected for most of us to be a little
crazy. But you’re not. You’re compassionate. You’re selfless. You’re calm.
You’re fearless, but in a rational way. But you’re also blissfully self-aware.
You know your limitations, and your virtues, and you’re content with all of it.
You’re the most well-balanced person I know.”

“Thanks,
I guess.”

“It’s
what makes you so attractive, and so intimidating.”

I
pointed a finger to my chest. “Me? Intimidating. You’re the one with the two
hundred IQ.”

“Whatever,”
Newton said and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “IQ only intimidates
people who care about such things. Smarts alone don’t bring people to your
cause. Charisma does that. You have a charm and cleverness that’s just
disarming.”

“I’ll
keep that in mind next time I get kidnapped,” I said. “Maybe I’ll be able to
disarm my captors with pure charm.”

“See?”
Newton said, smiling. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Quite endearing.”

“You
should give yourself some credit,” I said. “You’re endearing in your own way.
Why do you think I keep letting you plug me into machines?”

“Because
Dominique has you by the balls,” Newton said. “And because you know my research
is a means to a great end. Nothing to do with me.”

I
took another sip of wine. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,”
Newton said. “People say they can’t get close to me because they feel like I
see right through them. They feel like I’m always analyzing. And they’re right.
That’s who I am. That’s what I do. People say that they want to be understood,
but I say that’s bullshit. What people want is
validation
, not understanding. But
my mind isn’t wired that way. I’m a scientist. I’m not interested in placating
prevarications. I’m only after the truth, and the truth scares the shit out of
most people. People want to believe that they’re pretty when they’re actually
average. They want to believe they still have a shot at being a star even
though they’re past their prime. They want to believe their actions are
justified, even though they’re acting out of selfishness or fear. Most people
like to spend their lives avoiding the harsh truths, and it’s hard to do that
when you’ve got somebody like me constantly pointing them out. But that’s what
makes
you
so special. You don’t want that validation. You don’t give a
damn. You’re fully self-aware, and comfortable with your place in the world.”

“That
could just be a nightcrafter thing,” I said.

Newton
nodded. “Possible, but I don’t think that’s the only factor. I’ve only seen two
nightcrafters up close, but I know Madison isn’t like you. If she was, you
wouldn’t have been able to push her buttons so easily.”

“It
wasn’t that big of a deal,” I said.

“Modesty
is also one of your charming qualities.”

“Honesty
is one of yours,” I said.

“First
time I’ve heard that,” Newton said. “You must be trying to flatter me.”

“Well,
maybe a little bit but it’s still true. I like that you don’t tell people only
what they want to hear. You speak your mind. I don’t think you could be
duplicitous even if you tried. You don’t have a dishonest bone in you.”

“That’s
a vice, not a virtue,” Newton said. “Sometimes I wish I could be a little more
dishonest, for the sake of others. Lies of various magnitude help people cope
with uncomfortable realities.”

“That’s
their
weakness,” I said. “Not yours. Besides, there are still those of
us that prefer a hard truth to a comforting lie.”

“Here’s
a hard truth,” Newton said. “I’m falling for you.”

“I
know,” I said before I even knew my mouth was moving. Hadn’t meant to do that
but it was out now. I could see by the look on Newton’s face that he was
bracing himself to be hurt by whatever I was going to say next. I could see how
vulnerable he was at that moment, how he had opened himself up to me. I could
see how much he wanted me to want him. He had me, right then.

“I
have feelings for you too,” I said.

Newton
relaxed. All the tension went out of his face and that adorable smile of his
came back. “Well, that’s very good to know. Really great. But . . .”

“But
what?”

Newton
sighed and stared at the little beads of wine left in his cup. “You know that
it could never work, right?”

“Why
not?” I asked.

“Circumstance,”
Newton said. “When Dominique said you were missing, it felt like someone had
poured a bucket of ice water on me. We went to your apartment and ran all sorts
of tests, which didn’t really yield much. But then we got the call, the one you
made in Times Square, and it was like the happiest moment of my life. It felt like
a thousand Christmas mornings rolled up into one moment. I can’t afford to be
that attached to you. And you certainly can’t be attached to me. These are
dangerous times, for both of us. You and I have an extremely important job to
do. Further emotional entanglement would only complicate that.”

“Maybe,”
I said. “But once this is over—”

“You
assume this will ever be over,” Newton said.

Ah,
sweet irony. The clever bastard was using my own words against me. It was
bitter medicine, but effective. I willed the hurt away so my voice would be
steady as I said, “I hope we can at least be friends.”

“No
need to hope,” he said. “We already are.”

We
refilled our cups after that, and resumed our stargazing in silence. When the
night breeze got too chilly we headed into the cabin and drank even more. The
wine dulled our senses and coaxed us into easy relaxation. Newton produced a
heavy blanket from somewhere and somehow we ended up huddling for warmth under
it. In our mildly intoxicated state, his hand found mine. I grasped it lightly.
Our fingers intertwined. His head rested on my shoulder. The last thought I can
remember before sleep took over was that it had been a long time since I’d
found someone I wanted to wake up next to.

But
in the morning he wasn’t there.

* * *

After
I got over the disappointment of not seeing Newton beside me, I shook off the
light hangover and went looking for him. A few minutes later I found him in the
basement. He had spent some time assembling the lab equipment by himself, and
at the moment he was peering into some machine while holding a flat-head
screwdriver in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

“You’ve
been busy,” I said.

“Mhmm,”
he muttered without taking his attention off his work.

“Need
any help?”

“Uh
uh,” Newton replied.

“O
. . . kay then. I’m going to go for a run,” I said. “Will you be joining me?”

“Afraid
not,” Newton said, and I was glad he used actual words. “The data from the
Times Square event is troubling. I need to figure some stuff out. The
nightcrafters are further ahead in the game than we thought, and we need to
catch up fast.”

“I
see,” I said. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Wait,”
Newton said. “There’s something I have to ask you.”

My
insides did a backflip. I wondered if he would ask about last night. But
instead he said, “This phasing ability that allows people to go into the Rift
is a new spell, right? Nightcrafters couldn’t do this before.”

I
let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in. “As far as I know, they
couldn’t.”

“So
none of the nightcrafters would have that much practice with it,” Newton said.
“Most of them would have to speak the words?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,”
Newton said. I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He just
kept his eyes on the equipment.

“Okay
then,” I said. “I have my phone with me. Call me if you need anything.”

“If
you see anyone,” Newton said, “run the other way. It’s doubtful there’s anyone
out here who would recognize you, but one can never be too safe.”

“Right,”
I said. I stood there for a few more seconds just to see if Newton would say
anything else. But he was absorbed in his work. I realized that he was totally
serious about what he said last night. We had a world to save. No time for
anything else.

I
left the cabin and jogged at an easy pace. It felt good to run. It felt good to
be
free.
The air was fresh
and cool and smelled like the sea. My days of captivity with the nightcrafters
had been filled with sweat and fear and darkness. But this was different. I
felt alive again.

The
landscape here was flat and open. I ran along old dirt roads that looked like
they had been created decades ago and abandoned shortly afterward. Wild grass
and moss covered most of the area, but there were also spots of bare earth and
rock. There were a few short and stout trees here and there, but for the most
part it was all just open land under an uninterrupted sky. The wind was crisp
and hit me full on, but I didn’t mind. It was a glorious day and I was glad to
be able to enjoy it. I kept running.

Unfortunately,
I’d never been much of an athlete. Sometime around the third mile, I started
wheezing like a fat man chasing an ice cream truck. My legs and lungs burned. I
bent over, placed my hands on my knees, and let the sweat pour from my
forehead. I laughed. It was blissful agony.

While
I gasped for air, I took a moment to observe my new surroundings. The tree line
was about a quarter mile away, and it marked the beginning of a creepy forest
with tall trees huddled together tightly. Their broad leaves cast deep shadows
on the forest floor. In a heartbeat, I found myself transfixed by the place.
There was magic here; an old magic that even people without nightcrafter
training could feel. It’s that feeling that makes your stomach fluttery and the
hairs on the back of your neck raise up. The place drew me in with an
irresistible pull. Most people would’ve turned the other way and run like hell
from that place. But I am a student of the dark. I had to see more.