The Book of Fate

37

Nico knew they’d have them.

“Maps?” Nico asked, stepping into the gas station minimart and holding up the map of Michigan he took from Edmund’s truck.

“Back left,” a ponytailed attendant with peach-fuzz sideburns said without looking up from the small TV he was watching behind the counter.

Before Nico could even take a step, a loud chime rang from where he crossed into the electric eye of the automated doorbell. Wincing at the sound, he still wasn’t used to being out in public. But the way his heart was jackhammering with excitement, it didn’t slow him down.

Counting three surveillance cameras — one by the attendant, two in the aisles — Nico hit the brakes and eased his pace to a walk as he headed for the spinner rack of maps in the back. It was no different from his old assignments: No need to rush. Don’t look around. Disappear in the mundane.

He read most of the maps from halfway down the aisle. California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware…

It was a good sign. But not half as good as stepping in and seeing that the central spine of the spinner rack was made up of dozens of intersecting metal crosses. Exhaling with relief, Nico practically laughed out loud. Of course his map would be here. Just like with Wes. As in the Book, God’s will was always clear.

Tucking his Michigan map under his armpit, he gave the spinner rack a confident whirl, going straight to the end. Sure enough. Second from the top. Right between Washington State and West Virginia. Washington, D.C.

Lightning bolts of adrenaline surged up Nico’s legs. He covered his mouth as his eyes flooded with tears of joy. Even though he never doubted… to finally see it after being denied for so long. The nest… the devil’s nest… the M Men buried it so long ago. And now the proof was back. “Thank you, Father,” Nico whispered.

Without even hesitating, he pulled the D.C. map from its metal tower, replacing it with the Michigan map he’d brought from the truck. Fair trade.

Wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm, he took a moment to catch his breath. Slowly heading back for the door, he tipped his baseball cap at the attendant. “Thanks for the help.”

As the ding-dong of the automated chime sounded, the attendant nodded without even looking up.

Outside, a deep gulp of the crisp South Carolina air chilled Nico’s lungs, but it didn’t come close to cooling the rising thrill bubbling inside his chest. Seeing Edmund pumping gas at the back of the flatbed, Nico darted for the front. As he ducked into the narrow gap between the front grille of Edmund’s truck and the back bumper of the truck in front of them, Nico blinked a fresh set of tears from his eyes. For eight years at St. Elizabeths, it was the one thing he never spoke of. The one truth they’d never understand. Sure, they figured out the crosses through observation, and the whispering to himself that he used to do in the early years. But this… like Number Three taught… Some secrets weren’t meant to be shared. And when it came to the nest…

Open it! he insisted, nodding to himself.

Like a child sneaking a cookie from the jar, Nico kept his shoulders pitched as he studied the front page of the map. Closing his eyes, he took one last scan of the area: the metal clicking of the truck’s idle engines… the garden hose hiss from the pumps… even the chalky scratch of claws against concrete as a raccoon prowled toward the dumpster around back.

“Thank you, Father,” Nico whispered, keeping his eyes shut as he tugged the map open and let it unfold in front of him. His head bobbed up and down sixteen times as he mouthed his final prayer. Amen.

His eyes sprang open, staring straight at the familiar blue and black grid of the D.C. streets. Orienting himself on the wide-open patches of the Tidal Basin and National Mall, he quickly found the marker for the Washington Monument. From there, he traced a path up to Dupont Circle, where—

“D.C?” Edmund asked, resting a hand on Nico’s shoulder and peeking over at the map. “I thought you wanted Washington State?”

Refusing to turn around, Nico stood up straight as his legs, arms, and whole body stiffened. If it weren’t for his sniper training, his hands would’ve been shaking. Still, he felt the bad vein between his eyebrows. The vein that swelled, pregnant and full, when they took away his violin… when his father told him his mother was gone… when The Three told him the truth.

Just to keep himself steady, he clenched his toes into tiny fists that gripped the earth right through his shoes. The vein still throbbed. Pulsating even faster. Picking up speed. Father, please don’t let it burst… And then… as Nico clamped his lips shut and held his breath and focused everything he had on the web of veins swelling against his sinuses, it all went away.

Turning just his head, Nico slowly peered over his own shoulder at Edmund.

“Whoa… y’okay?” Edmund asked, stepping back slightly and pointing at Nico’s face. “Your nose… it’s bleedin’ like a bitch, bro.”

“I know,” Nico said, dropping the map as he reached out and palmed Edmund’s shoulder. “Blood of our savior.”