“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” I said. “There’s something I need to do.”
Isaac turned to me, his eyebrow raised in surprise. “We could really use your help, Trent.”
“You know what you’re looking for in those books, but to me it’s all gibberish,” I said. I nodded toward the monitors. “I have to go back to Brooklyn. I have to see it for myself. I have to know.”
“Know what? If Underwood’s dead?” Bethany asked. “No one could have survived that.”
“What if he’s not dead?” Isaac asked. “What then?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I didn’t want to think about what I would do to Underwood if I ever saw him again.
Bethany touched my arm, the unusual warmth of her hand coming through my sleeve. “Trent, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away from that life.”
“No, I can’t,” I said. “Not until I’m sure.”
She frowned. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t argue, either. Even Bethany knew when she couldn’t win.
Isaac pulled a small cell phone out of a drawer in a table by the door. He handed it to me. “It’s got my cell number in the contacts. If you run into trouble, call. I’ll call you if we find anything. Otherwise, let’s regroup here in a few hours.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
He shook my hand. “We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, Trent, but you’re one of us. You proved that today.”
“I’m full of surprises,” I said.
“So I’m learning,” he said. “Stay safe out there, and don’t stay away too long.”
I said my goodbyes. Gabrielle said, “Don’t take too long. We can’t do this alone.”
Philip said, “Go already. What do you want, a hug?”
Bethany crossed her arms and wouldn’t look at me. “This is stupid,” she said.
I left. Walking out the door was harder than I thought it would be. Part of me already knew I belonged with them and wanted to stay. Outside, the afternoon was wearing on toward evening and the storm clouds hadn’t budged. The sky was as dark as coal. The rain had grown chillier, and as it battered me I hugged myself, shivering as I walked away from Citadel. I had almost reached the paved path when I heard Bethany’s voice.
“Trent, wait!”
I turned around. She left Citadel’s porch and walked across the grass toward me. She looked even smaller soaked to the skin like that, her long black hair plastered to the sides of her face.
“Look,” she said, “you’re stubborn and annoying, and you’ve been nothing but trouble since I laid eyes on you, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you go and get yourself killed.” She paused a moment, then said, “Okay, killed again. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. I’m coming with you.”
I shook my head. “I’ll be all right. I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time. Besides, I thought I was the one who kept saving your life.”
“What, are you keeping score now? Put the headstrong macho crap aside for a second and just accept that I’m not letting you do this on your own.”
“It’s too dangerous,” I said. “The Black Knight is still out there looking for me. I can handle him if he comes for me, I’ve done it before, but you…” I shook my head. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“You have to stop thinking of me as someone you need to protect. I can take care of myself, too.”
“People keep dying because of me, Bethany,” I said. “Ten people I barely know died just so I could keep living. Ingrid is dead because of me, because Reve Azrael followed me to the safe house. She followed me here, too, and nearly killed Gabrielle. Now she’s got the box, and she’s got Thornton’s body, and it’s all because of me. I’m tired of getting people hurt. I’m tired of all the death.” She just looked at me, her bright blue eyes shifting slightly as she looked into mine. “You’ll be safer here with the others,” I said.
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said. “Who’s going to protect you? You’ll be out there on your own.”
I recognized the words, and smiled. It was the same thing I’d said to her when she’d tried to get rid of me after the warehouse. It already seemed like a lifetime ago. But I shook my head. “You can’t come with me, Bethany. The others need you.”
“And you don’t?”
I hung my head. That wasn’t what I’d meant. “This is something I have to do alone. It’s a part of my life I have to close the door on, once and for all. I’m no good to anyone until I do.”
She looked at me like she wanted to say something but didn’t have the words. I knew the feeling. There were things I wanted to say to her, too, starting with thanking her for showing me there were good, decent people out there, not just men like Underwood. People worth going to the mat for. But just then my tongue felt too thick to move.
Finally, she said, “Have I mentioned how annoying you are?”
“I picked up on it,” I said.
She stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek.
“Try to come back in one piece,” she said.
I wanted to say something witty, something charming and memorable, but all I could manage was, “Okay.”
Then she went back inside, and I walked away, into the storm.
Thirty-one
I took the 2 train to Brooklyn. By the time I got to Empire Boulevard, the fire had been completely extinguished. All that was left of the Shell gas station was wet, charred wood and exposed metal beams poking out of the wreckage like the ribs of some enormous dead beast. I stood across the street and watched the firefighters pull what was left of the furniture out of the station and pile it all in the parking lot. There wasn’t much. I was angry at myself for it, but I couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. This was the only home I’d ever known, and now it was gone. Gone, too, was the list of names I’d kept inside my mattress, and the old TV that had kept me company through countless sleepless nights. Even my copy of The Ragana’s Revenge was ash now. All of it, nothing but ash.
Two ambulances were parked nearby, their lights flashing, their back doors closed and guarded by police officers.
The sight of cops made me nervous. Old habit. I backed up deeper into the big crowd of locals who’d gathered on the sidewalk to gawk at the show. But the cops weren’t the ones I had to worry about. The Black Knight had come looking for me. He’d done this, and there was a good chance he was still nearby. There was also a good chance this was a trap, that he was waiting for me to come back and walk right into his clutches. Losing myself in the mass of umbrellas and rain parkas on the sidewalk might keep me hidden from the cops, but it wouldn’t hide me from him. It was dangerous to be here, stupid even. But I had to see it with my own eyes. I had to know for sure that Underwood and his crew were gone.
I turned to the person next to me, a thin, West Indian man wearing a plastic poncho, and I put on my best innocent act. “What’s with the ambulances? I thought that old gas station was closed a long time ago.”
He crossed himself and answered in a thick Jamaican accent, “They found four bodies inside, God rest their souls.”
Four bodies. So it was true, then. Tomo, Big Joe, and Underwood were dead. The dark-haired woman, too. The one who used to stare at me all the time, silent and watchful, like a cat focusing on its prey. It occurred to me then that I’d never even learned her name.
“They found an old fallout shelter from the sixties under the station, with a bed and some furniture,” the man continued. “There must have been some homeless people in there.”