"You are. You think maybe I'm blind? I've watched it. A slow process, it's been, but it's happening. Ever since you and Gia got back together. Almost a year now, right?"
"A year ago this month."
"You see? I'm right. Before last summer you were a lobster—a spiny lobster."
"And what am I now? A softshell crab?"
"S'teitsh! Let me finish. Lobsterman Jack kept to his shell. With all his spines sticking out, people kept their distance. Nobody touched him. Such a hair trigger he had. Now…" Abe gave one of his major shrugs, palms turned up, lips turned down. "Now, I should dare say, you've opened a few windows in your shell. You take a longer view. That's the result of the love of a good woman."
Jack smiled. "She's that, all right."
"Until Gia, you never had anyone you cared about. Like a daredevil you were. Completely reckless. Now, you've got someone you want to get back to, someone you know is waiting for you. That changes everything. Makes you more careful."
"I've always been careful. It's essential in my business."
"But you can be too careful," Abe said. "And that's why I'm glad you're getting out. Because having a child will make you way too careful."
"No such thing as too careful."
"In your field of work, there is. I know you, Jack. Once that child is born, it's going to be the center of your world. You'll feel responsible for its welfare and well-being. Beyond responsible. You'll obsess about it. You'll want to be there for it, want to get home safe every night so it shouldn't have to grow up without a father. That's going to push you past too-careful into cautious. Ultimately it's going to make you hesitant in a field where an instant's hesitation can kill you. I'll miss Repairman Jack, but at least Daddyman Jack will still be alive to come around for breakfast, and maybe bring the little one with him."
"You're overstating this just a little bit, don't you think?"
Abe shook his head. "Unless you quit or drastically limit the types of jobs you take on—jobs that will be no fun for you—I don't see you surviving a year after your baby is born."
Jack went silent, thinking about that. Didn't buy it, didn't believe it, but it shook him to know Abe did.
In the long run, though, what did it matter? He was getting out. He was going to become Citizen Jack.
Talk about a bowel-clenching thought.
This life he'd been leading had had more than its share of hair-raising moments, and flying below the radar twenty-four-seven could be exhausting at times, and there were many days he wearied of looking over his shoulder, but damn he loved getting up in the morning without knowing what the day would bring.
Going straight was going to be so strange.
But it would pay the dividend of allowing his child to be able to stand anyplace with anyone and point to him and say, That's my dad.
2
The ride home hadn't been so bad, and getting in and out of the car had been bearable, but the steps… even with Adrian helping him, negotiating the narrow staircase up to his apartment above the store was agony.
Finally he was able to ease himself into a recliner, close his eyes, and catch his breath.
Good to be out of the hospital and free of all those tubes—although his belly still quivered at the memory of Nurse Horgan removing his catheter this morning. Good to be back in his home which, in sharp contrast to the cluttered store below, was furnished in a spare, minimalist style with bare walls, naked hardwood floors, and light, spindly furniture. The recliner was a blatant anomaly; a home needed at least one comfortable chair.
"Here. Take this."
Eli looked up and saw Adrian standing before him with a glass of water and two Percocets in his huge hands.
"You're a good man, Adrian. Thank you. How is your leg?"
He flexed his knee. "Much better. But the headaches are terrible. And I still can't remember Monday night. I remember having dinner…"
"Yes-yes," Eli said, thinking, Please let's not hear that again. "The doctor said you might never remember what happened. Perhaps you should count yourself lucky you don't."
"I don't feel lucky," Adrian said. He crossed his long arms over his chest and hugged himself. Eli wondered if his hands touched in the back. "I feel scared."
Odd to imagine that such a big man could be frightened. But Adrian wasn't a thug. He had a law degree and assisted Judge Marcus Warren of the New York State Supreme Court.
"You're afraid this man is going to attack us again?"
"I'm not afraid of that. In fact I almost wish he would." Adrian balled his hands into giant fists. "I'd love to make him pay for what he did to me. No, I'm afraid that we won't get the Ceremony done in time… you know, before the equinox."
"We will. I haven't missed one for two hundred and six years. I'm not about to start now."
"But what if we don't?"
The possibility spilled acid through Eli's chest. "The consequences for you will be minimal. You'll merely have to start a new cycle of Ceremonies."
"But I've already invested five years."
An initiate had to participate in an unbroken chain of twenty-nine annual cycles before the aging process stopped and invulnerability was conferred. Once the chain was broken, the count went back to zero and had to be started again.
"And that's all you will lose—five years of Ceremonies. Nothing. For me, on the other hand, the consequences will be catastrophic. All the ills, all the injuries, all the aging the Ceremony had shielded me from for the last two centuries will come crashing back at once."
His dying would be long and slow and exquisitely painful. These stab wounds would seem mere pinpricks.
"But after you're gone," Adrian said, "who will perform the Ceremony?"
Eli shook his head. He wanted to ask, Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? But he held his tongue. Adrian was no different from any of the others in the Circle. No more self-centered than myself, Eli supposed.
"No one," Eli said, relishing the growing dismay in Adrian's expression. "Unless the one who attacked us wishes to accept you as an initiate."
Adrian frowned. "I don't understand."
Eli sighed. They'd discussed this already, but Adrian's short-term memory still wasn't up to snuff.
"I believe the one who attacked us is an adept like myself who knows the Ceremony. That is the only way he could harm me."
"Yes," Adrian said. "Yes, I remember."
"But I believe his real purpose is to destroy my Circle. He has a Circle of his own and does not want competition."
"Then I think I should stay here with you," Adrian blurted. "Until you're well enough to protect yourself, that is."
Eli considered the idea and liked it. He could certainly use some assistance for the next few days—he could take care of his dressing changes himself, but help with meals and running errands would be most welcome.
No use appearing too anxious, though. Adrian seemed scared half to death that something would happen to him before the next Ceremony. Nothing wrong with making him sweat a little.
"I don't think so, Adrian," he said. "I'm used to living alone. I don't think I'd do well with constant company."
"I'll stay out of your way. I promise. Just let me stay through the weekend. I'm not going back to court until next week. I can watch over things until then."
Like a puppy dog. Or a huge Great Mastiff, rather. Time to throw him a bone.
"Oh, very well. I suppose I could put up with it for a few days."
"Wonderful! I'll go home, pack a few things, and be back in an hour."
He turned and limped toward the door.
"Wait," Eli said. "Before you go, could you hand me the phone?"
"Of course. Expecting a call?"
"Freddy is supposed to call when he's identified that woman who was quoted on TV last night. I don't want to miss that call." He smiled. "I do hope she's having a nice day, because as soon as I learn her name, her life will go in the shitter."