The Hazing Tower (8 page)

He opened the door. She looked so sad, totally broken inside. He had known that feeling himself, when you begin to feel the change inside you, the realization that the world will never be the same. He tried to speak and nothing came out.

He sat down next to her. “I’m sorry, Nikki.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Why? You saved me. I remember now; you pulled me back onto the ledge. Am I dead now? What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re not dead, Nikki, far from it.”

“I’m sick, I think I’m sick, Alex. I saw you fall. You fell saving me. How can you be alive? It’s not possible.”

He took her hand. He felt warm and strong at the same time. She didn’t try to pull away. She didn’t care that she was sitting on the floor in a robe. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She tried to wipe her tears, but they came faster than she could clear them away.

“Nikki, you are not sick. I will explain everything, I promise. I am to blame for this, all of this. I understand if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I don’t understand. I feel lost. I remember it all now, I saw your eyes when you pulled me up. You were scared. You were scared I was going to fall. You sat next to me when I was sick. Why? How did I get here? My mind feels like it won’t stop!”

“Do you want me to leave? I apologize for coming in. I was worried for you.”

“No! I mean, not now. Just sit with me. Can you just sit with me for awhile? I don’t want to be alone.”

“We can sit for as long as you wish.”

She felt herself grip his hand harder. She looked at the gun by her side. She kicked it away and it slid across the floor. She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder.

He softly touched her hair. It felt soothing beyond all reason. She could feel herself drifting off again. This time she didn’t try to stop it. There was no fear anymore. He had saved her, somehow he had. Her memories were clear now. She saw him sitting by her bed for what must have been months. He looked worried. She could see his face like it was happening today. He clearly was not a killer. Somehow he had been there for her, that was all that mattered. She felt safe now, safe and warm. She felt his hand on her hair and felt electrified. She closed her eyes and started to dream.

• • •

She heard breathing behind her. No place was safe. They would always find her. She didn’t lock the doors; what did it matter? Everything had come down to this. She had to be flawless. The slightest mistake and it would be over. The decades of planning — it all hinged on her acting tonight.

“Is it done?”

She slowly turned around and faced him. He was hideous. Even in the dim light she could see the skin hanging from his face like a death mask. He looked even older than before, which wasn’t possible, of course.

“And if he didn’t? You will kill me right here? Why not just get it over with? You are done with me anyway.”

“We still require your assistance. He will listen to you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to manipulate him anymore!” She felt her voice rise; this had to be perfect.

The old man smiled. “So it is done then. She is alive.”

“So now what? You kill her? Kill Alex? It’s just a game for you, I suppose. There was a time...” She stopped talking.

“Are you lonely, Rebecca? You must be. It has been 70 years now, am I right, since you left?”

“He forced me to be alone. It didn’t need to be this way.”

She wanted more than anything to kill him. She could. She was sure she could. She was faster than him. The plan had been in her head for more than 50 years. Every detail. Still, it was always the same. She didn’t do a thing. Killing him wouldn’t end it. It would only be the beginning of a greater evil. There would be a time; she would get her chance. Just not now. She was so close, closer than she had ever been.

“You had a choice. We didn’t force you. You must know this is for the greater good; you were never a fool like Alex.”

“Were you able to get blood from the estate?”

“You think I wouldn’t try that first? He must have destroyed any he had after her transition. I know where all his hiding places are. In any case, we need more of her blood than a couple vials, we need her alive.”

“You are sure he will not teach her how to use it?”

“Of course I am. I know Alex better than anyone. He hates this gift; he thinks it’s a curse. He will never teach her; he will make up some story, hide it away.”

She turned to face him. The room was empty. She wasn’t sure if he believed her about the blood. He was very good at sensing a lie. Luckily for her, she had learned to be the best at telling one.

She turned back and stared at the Paris sky. A single tear rolled down her face. She knew what she had to do now. After decades, there might be a chance, a tiny chance. She had waited lifetimes for this. For the first time in forever, she had a reason to live, if even for a short time. The most complex chess game she had ever played was nearing the end, and even though she felt she was gaining the upper hand, she knew all too well how quickly that could change. They had always won before. It had to be different this time. The only thing that gave her hope was that winning was not for her this time; her life was over. This time it was for someone else. This time it was for Mia.

Rebecca hadn’t forgotten how. She started to softly cry and closed her eyes.

• • •

She pulled on her slippers and decided it was time for some exploring. Godfried would not be here today, on a weekend, so she had the entire mansion to herself. A chill went down her back as she realized she could be a spy. And wasn’t it her right? She was in a way held captive here, actually not really it turned out, but anyway. She started to walk down the long hallway, past the kitchen. So many rooms, so many hallways.

She stopped at the garage. This time she took a closer look. Beautiful cars. Some she knew, some she had never heard of. There was no question that the total worth must be in the millions of dollars. Then something caught her eye. She loved motorcycles, always had. And there it was, a Ducati Italian super bike in perfect condition. She walked over and sat on it. A long time ago she used to ride. She loved it, the wind in her hair, the danger, the speed. The memories rushed back as she pulled on the throttle. She laughed as she thought of herself here in her pink PJs sitting on this motorcycle.

She hopped off and made her way back into the main house. She walked down a level to where Alex had been working last night. She walked down the long hallway and thought she remembered this was the room he had been working in. It seemed every door was locked. This one in particular had a small window. She peeked inside. It looked like a library of some sort.

Nikki slowly turned the knob. She held her breath as the door opened. It wasn’t locked.
Maybe he forgot?
It actually didn’t shock her as much as she supposed it should. Maybe he didn’t care. She was sure his real secrets were locked up somewhere incredibly safe. It wouldn’t be this easy.

She tip-toed into the room. It was beautiful. Books of every type covered all the walls. More books than she could ever remember seeing in one place. She sat in a soft chair and scanned the room. Her eyes locked onto a glass panel with what looked like smaller books inside. She pulled it open.

Journals.
There must have been hundreds, covered in beautiful leather. Were they his? She pulled one out of the middle, sat back down and started to read.

March 24th, 1946

Rescued a young girl today. Not more than 12 in age. She told me of her melancholy, and how she did not want to go on. I told her truthfully that I also understood this feeling, and that it can be conquered, it can go away without death. It was an especially cold winter day in the city. The girl had severe frostbite when we pulled her in.

I hope to see her when she can take visitors. I feel it helps if one can talk about sadness, or melancholy as they seem to use the term here. I feel good about today. Even the cold weather could not pull me down today.?— A.

Her hand was shaking as she looked through the pages. Rescue logs. Some happy, some very sad. She knew well how some rescues didn’t go as planned. You could never save them all. She was sure it was him talking. As sure as she was sitting in his chair. The years of the entries didn’t seem to shock her anymore. Something was clearly wrong, but for some reason the puzzle in her mind was starting to come together. Not that she understood any of this. But she knew she was a part of it. It was who she was now. Somehow she knew that, even thinking back to her childhood now, things were starting to make sense for the first time. She thought about the note again, and what her foster mother had said. Maybe it was real? She had started to think it was just the disease playing with Susan’s mind. Maybe there was more to it; was it somehow connected to all this?

She realized she was starving. She had become used to having her meals made for her. She laughed out loud as she thought about that. Never in a lifetime would she imagine herself living in a mansion with food brought to her on a silver platter. Actually not a bad life at all. It seemed she had already become used to it!

Finding the kitchen was easy this time. Well, one of the kitchens at least. She was starting to build a map of the property in her mind. She was always great with directions. In ESU they used to say she had a built-in GPS in her brain. It had started to kick in, and she was slowly memorizing the layout.
Never know when that might come in handy,
she thought to herself.

That reminded her of the gun. She had forgotten about it since her memories had come back about Alex saving her life. It was in the drawer in her bedroom. Still loaded and ready. Well, again, you never know. She probably should keep it with her, she thought in passing.

The kitchen was beautiful. She didn’t even know where to begin. Every type of food was available, and every pot and pan ever created seemed to be there. She cooked up some eggs on the gas stove. The smell was fantastic. She noticed again how her sense of smell seemed to be amplified since she had arrived here. And not just that. Her hearing, all her senses. It was like they were all in overdrive.

She sat down by a counter and drank milk right from the bottle. She was disgusted as she realized what she was doing, then laughed. What does it matter, Nikki? she asked herself. She noticed she had been talking to herself a lot lately; she had never done that before.

She guessed she was a bit rough around the edges. Not like him. He was so, what was the word, cultured? She wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, he was smooth. A pure gentleman, at least on the outside, and she felt he was that way on the inside as well. That’s what her gut told her at least.

She tried to clean up the best she could. The dishwasher was so complicated she couldn’t figure out how to even turn it on. Anyway it was just one dish. She washed it in the sink and put it back. She could get used to this kitchen.

Nikki walked back down to the study; well, she called it the study now, and walked back into the room. She brought some snacks with her this time and sat down with the journals and started to read.

Hours passed until she read one that took her breath away. It was the first time a woman he cared for had ever been mentioned.

December 16th, 1968

I swore to myself, I saw Rebecca today, holding the hand of a child. I was such a fool. I ran to her. By the time I reached the spot, no one was there. My mind is playing tricks on me. My heart still hurts even after decades. I find myself wondering where she is, or if she is even alive. If she is alive, I am sure she is in Paris or Rome, some exotic locale. Her feet in the sand, enjoying life, in a way that I was never able to. She did have that about her, she knew how to enjoy life, and this gift as she calls it. I do not consider it a gift. Not after losing her forever.

— A.

Rebecca.
So there was a woman in his past. Of course there was. He was incredibly handsome and smart. Any woman would give just about anything to be with him. It was shocking to her that there weren’t more women. He talked only about Rebecca in the journals she had read so far. Was this the woman the gas station attendant said was his wife? The wife who had died? And he had also said that Alex seemed lonely. She agreed.

She kept reading. The more she read, the more she was sure this was him writing; everything about it was Alex. How could this be? And what did it mean?

Nikki pulled out another of the thicker journals. A letter fell out and slowly drifted to the floor. Her heart stopped as she picked up one of the pages.

Together Forever, my Love.

— Rebecca.

Her hands shook as she read it. A love letter, written by Rebecca to Alex. She felt terrible as she read it, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She carefully placed it back in the journal.

She felt a burning jealousy. It shocked her. She barely knew Alex, and yet, reading the letter from a person he probably still loved, shook her to the core. She wasn’t the type of girl to fall for a man so quickly, especially someone she wasn’t even sure she could trust. She realized that was part of it all. When she was around Alex she felt off balance, like anything could happen. She couldn’t predict him, or how she would feel every time she saw him. She was becoming addicted to that feeling. She shook her head as she wondered what was happening to her.

It was clearly time for a talk, a real talk about everything. For some reason she had been putting it off. It wasn’t like he had refused to talk to her. She hadn’t asked. Maybe it was the comfort here, the mansion, the warmth, him. She almost didn’t want to know. Would it be OK if she just played dumb? Was that so wrong?