In Plain Sight

25 The Landing

The castle fell around Alex and Sorsha. He didn’t know how long he had until it ran out of sky, but it couldn’t be long.

“What have you done?” Sorsha screamed at him, but her words were cut off by another blinding flash of light.

Alex felt his body going shapeless again, then being rolled and folded in on himself while being pushed through another narrow tube. The sensation went on for what seemed like a long time, until finally he felt himself falling again. He landed heavily on a hard surface and felt the air crushed out of his lungs as Sorsha came down on top of him.

He hoped the scream he heard echoing off the walls was hers and not his, but all he could really be sure of were the purple dots swimming in his vision and incredible pain in his left side.

“What…what have…you done?” Sorsha gasped. Her face flickered in and out of his vision; it was contorted with pain and her mascara was running. “We’re still in New York…the castle.”

“Is at the bottom of the north Atlantic,” Alex managed. “Along with Davis.” He felt light-headed, and a pleasant numbness was spreading out from his chest, erasing his pain.

“You couldn’t have…have moved my castle a thousand miles,” Sorsha said with a groan. “Even I couldn’t have done that.”

“It’s not the distance,” Alex said, his voice taking on a dreamy lilt. “It’s the mass.”

“What the devil is going on here?”

It was Iggy’s voice. Alex’s enhanced escape spell had dropped them right where it was supposed to, in the library at the brownstone.

“Hi Iggy,” Alex said. He was starting to feel drunk.

“A German spy tried…” Sorsha groaned and rolled more onto her side to take the pressure off her hip. “Tried to drop my house on Empire Tower. Alex did something…something to his escape rune. Sent my castle to the coast of Greenland, then brought us… ngg…here.”

“Good God,” Iggy said, his face going whiter than Sorsha’s. “You’re shot.”

“Hip,” Sorsha gasped. “What about him?” She pointed at Alex. Iggy’s face grew stern and sour.

“He used his own life energy to power the escape rune. Traded years, probably decades of his life for the power to transport your castle.” He leaned down and grabbed Sorsha under her arms and knees. “Brace yourself,” he said. “This will hurt.”

To her credit, she didn’t scream when he picked her up, but from where he lay on the floor, Alex could see her biting her lip so hard that it bled.

“Don’t worry, Sorceress,” Iggy said. “I’ll fix you right up. I’m a doctor, remember?”

“What about Alex?” Sorsha gasped.

“If he still has some life energy left, he’ll be all right after a good long nap.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then the damn fool’s nap will be of a more permanent nature.”

That sounded ominous, but Alex’s mind was drifting now. He couldn’t seem to make the words and sounds he was hearing make any sense. The room began to recede, as if he were sinking into the floor, until all that was left was a tiny dot of light far, far away.

Then even that was gone.

A knock at his door woke Alex sometime later. The light of midday streamed through his window, and he winked against its brightness. He wanted to bid whoever had knocked to come in but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

Swinging his legs off the side, he tried to stand, but slumped to the floor instead. The door opened and Iggy came in, carrying a glass of water.

“Drink,” he said, kneeling down beside Alex and pushing the glass into his hand.

Alex had trouble raising the glass to his lips, and it took him a moment to remember how to drink. During that moment, water spilled down his front.

“How long?” he croaked once he’d got the water down. “How long have I been out?”

“Less than a day,” Iggy said. “You and your Sorceress girlfriend dropped in on me last night.”

Alex ignored the dig. “How is she?”

“No doubt resting comfortably in her suite at the Waldorf.”

Alex shivered, remembering Agent Warner’s corpse. There was no way Sorsha would go back there.

“Once I got the bullet out, she started regenerating quickly,” Iggy said. He offered Alex his hand and pulled the younger man to his feet.

“Regenerating?”

“Oh, yes,” Iggy said. “Why do you think sorcerers age so slowly? Their bodies are constantly regenerating.”

“It must not work if they’re in lot of pain,” Alex mused.

“I imagine they have to be in conscious connection with the source of their magic for it to work,” Iggy said. “Miss Kincaid’s level of trauma kept her from healing herself until I got the bullet out.”

Alex filed that particular bit of information away for a rainy day.

“I’m starved,” he said. “Is there any food in the house?”

“A bit of chicken from two nights ago,” Iggy said. “I’d make you something, but we don’t have too much time. The funeral for Father Clementine and the others from the Mission is this afternoon.”

“Right,” Alex said, and nodded soberly. “Let me take a shower and we’ll go down to The Lunch Box on the way. I’ll introduce you to Mary.”

“I’ve been there since she started working,” Iggy said. “Everyone knows her, including me.”

“All right,” Alex said, moving toward his little bathroom and its even smaller shower. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“How many minutes have you got left?” Iggy said, his voice quiet.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, stripping off his shirt.

“You know damn well what I mean!” Iggy shouted, making Alex jump. “The only way you could have transported that sorceress’ castle was to power the escape rune with your own life force. So how much did you spend? A decade? Two?”

Alex started to smile, to brush the old man’s concerns away, but as he met Iggy’s gaze, he saw tears in the old man’s eyes.

“Iggy,” he said, struggling to explain. “I…”

Iggy sat down on the bed, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asked, his voice almost gentle. Alex crossed to the bed and knelt down to look him in the face.

“You know what would have happened if that castle had landed anywhere near Empire Tower,” he pointed out. The old man was far too smart to have any doubts what the result of that catastrophe would be. “If I’d just used my escape rune, I’d have come right back here in time for an explosion more powerful than any in history to turn this house and you and me, Danny, Leslie, Mary, and everyone else into a fine powder.”

Iggy nodded his head, but words seemed to fail him. Alex knew he was living that long moment that Alex had faced in Sorsha’s vault. A moment that led to one, and only one, inescapable conclusion.

“Remember what you told me when I asked you why anyone would ever use a life rune?”

Iggy nodded. “I’d rather lose some of my life, than all of it,” he quoted himself. Alex smiled at him.

“I don’t know how much time I’ve got left,” he said. “But then nobody does really. I could get trampled by a crawler tomorrow. At least, if I do, everyone on that crawler will be alive because Sorsha’s castle didn’t fall on Empire Tower.”

Iggy put his hand on Alex’s good shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You should never have had to be the hero.”

“Maybe they’ll throw me a parade,” Alex chuckled.

“The newspapers are claiming that Miss Kincaid moved her castle out to sea for repairs,” Iggy said. “Apparently the government is hushing the whole thing up.”

“That’s okay.” Alex chuckled again and regretted it instantly, as pain blossomed in his mending ribs. “I hate parades.”

Alex started to rise, but Iggy held on to his shoulder.

“You’re right,” he said. “None of us know what time is left to us. In the interest of that sentiment, there are some things I want you to know.” He paused and blinked, his eyes bright. “I’ve always thought of you like a son. The son I never had.”

“Iggy, you had a son,” Alex pointed out, a little embarrassed. “He paid for this house.”

“Don’t mistake me,” he said. “I loved my son. I couldn’t be prouder of him if I tried. But he didn’t have the gift. I always wanted a son I could share my trade with. Someone I could teach the things I’ve learned, the secrets I’ve discovered. When my son died, I was devastated. No father should ever have to outlive his child. After I came here, I didn’t know what to do with myself, but then I found you hawing runes on a street corner. It didn’t take long for me to know you were worthy to be my heir.”

Alex put his hand on Iggy’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Ignatius,” he murmured. That means a lot.”

“Don’t you see?” Iggy said. “I’ve already lost one son. How can I bear to lose another?”

Alex stood up and pulled the old man to his feet.

“You haven’t lost me yet,” he said. “So, if my time is short, let’s not waste it. Let’s go get something to eat and we’ll go see Father Harry off. Then, when we get back here, we can talk about the rest.”

Iggy hesitated, then he patted Alex’s arm and withdrew downstairs.

Watching him go, Alex felt a pang of guilt. He’d done what had to be done, there was no doubt about that. Hundreds of thousands of people would have died if he hadn’t used his escape rune. It had cost him a good chunk of his own life, but he didn’t regret that. If he hadn’t done it, he would have been dead anyway.

What he regretted, standing alone in his room, was that he had hurt Iggy.

Pushing that thought from his mind, Alex headed for the shower. When he caught sight of himself in the bathroom’s tiny mirror, he jumped. His hair had turned entirely white, like new-fallen snow. Whiter even than Sorsha’s platinum-blonde hair.

“Well,” he said tugging at it. “At least it’s still there.”

That would definitely take some getting used to.

In the shower, Alex examined the place where his escape rune had been tattooed. Only a fading burn mark was left. He’d wait for it to completely disappear before having it redone. That would give him time to design a new one.

Ten minutes later, Alex arrived downstairs, shaved and dressed. He’d had the presence of mind to hang on to his suit jacket when Sorsha’s castle went down, but his hat had been a loss.

“Here,” Iggy said, pulling a slightly old-fashioned fedora from the coat wardrobe by the vestibule.

“Thanks,” Alex said, putting it on and turning the brim down in front.

They made their way to The Lunch Box and then across town to a cemetery next to a little church on the far side of the Core. Only a few dozen people had turned out for the funeral of a clergyman of no great renown. As the Bishop of the Diocese droned on at the gravesite, Alex wondered if this were the kind of funeral Jesus himself received. It made him smile to think that Father Harry would have liked it. He was a simple man who went about doing what good he could, like his Master before him.

Iggy and Leslie, who had joined them at the cemetery, moved off with the other mourners after the service, but Alex lingered at the gravesite. Father Harry had been a literal father to him when no one else cared. He just wanted to stand before the open grave in the quiet of the little cemetery and pull his scattered memories back into the forefront of his mind. As the years turned back in his head, he fixed the images in his memory, so they would live on in Father Harry’s stead.

“How are you holding up?” a frail voice brought him out of his reverie. He turned to find Sister Gwen at his side, and he smiled.

“I’m doing all right,” he said, hugging her awkwardly, given his arm was still in the sling. “You?”

She nodded with a wistful smile but then frowned, looking up at him.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked.

“Slight disagreement with a spell.”

“It suits you.” Sister Gwen said with a determined nod.

“Is the Diocese going to reopen the mission?” Alex asked.

“No,” Sister Gwen said in a weary voice. “Too much is gone now. Father Clementine was the heart and soul of that place.”

“What will you do?” Alex put his arm around the frail nun and hugged her against his side.

“The Bishop is sending me to a convent in Miami,” she said. “I’ll be teaching new sisters and helping them learn their duties.”

“Sounds like he’s looking out for you,” Alex said with a grin.

Sister Gwen leaned close and whispered. “I asked him for the post,” she said. “I’m getting too old for these New York winters.” She hugged him again but didn’t let go. “Did you find out who killed Father Clementine?” she asked.

“I did,” he said, patting her on the back. “He fell to his death trying to hurt a lot more people.”

“Good boy,” she said fiercely, then let him go and stepped back. “Well, I’ve got a bus to catch, Alex. Be good, and God bless you.”

Alex promised that he would, and the old nun turned and walked away. “I’ll miss you, too,” he said after her.

He stood there for a long minute, then finally reached down and picked up a handful of dirt, tossing it onto the simple pine coffin at the bottom of the grave.

“You finished?” Leslie said, walking around the grave to stand beside him. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m done,” Alex said, taking her arm and strolling off through the gravestones. “Iggy’s waiting for you out front,” she said. “So how does it feel?”

“I don’t even notice,” Alex said, running a self-conscious hand through his white hair.

“Not that.” Leslie elbowed him gently. “Solving your first big case.”

Alex hadn’t really thought about it, but he did save the city. All by himself. Of course no one would ever know what he did, since the government was hushing the whole thing up. Then there was Father Harry, and Evelyn. The price he’d paid solving this case was very high, and that had nothing to do with his lost years.

“Not like I thought it would,” he admitted.

“Don’t let it throw you, boss,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I like the hair; it makes you look distinguished.”

Alex laughed at that.

“It’ll be easier next time,” she said. “You’ll see.”

Alex failed to see how it could be worse.

“Did you get what I asked for?”

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “It took me most of yesterday and a good part of this morning to find this,” she said. “Can’t for the life of me figure out why you want it.”

“And yet you seem to be in a very good mood,” Alex noted, taking the paper and slipping it into his pocket. “I must send you to the dusty parts of the library more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” Her face soured. “Do you have any idea the kinds of deplorable old letches who inhabit the tables by the card catalog? They practically cheered every time I had to bend over to look in a lower drawer.”

“Well, all that attention must have done you good.”

“That and the thousand dollar check I found waiting for me at the office.”

Alex stopped short.

“A grand?” he asked. “Who’d send us that much dough?”

“Your sorceress friend.” Leslie nodded off to the far corner of the cemetery where several people stood for another service. Even at this distance, Alex had no trouble recognizing Sorsha’s platinum hair. “The note said it was your reward for finding and returning stolen government documents.”

Alex started to smile, but the memory of Evelyn’s demise wiped it from his face.

“Be sure to thank her,” Leslie said, disentangling her arm from his. “I’m on my way to the bank to put it in the account, then I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

Alex winked at her and smiled.

“You deserve it, doll,” he said. “Peel off a ten spot and have some fun.”

Leslie flashed him her most endearing smile and cocked her head.

“You’re the boss,” she said and turned away.

Alex turned toward the service at the far end of the cemetery. He stood well back and waited for the minister to leave the little group under the shade of an old oak tree before approaching.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Alex said, stepping up beside her.

Sorsha’s eyes and nose were red and her makeup had run down her cheeks. She did not look her usual perfect self. She wore a black mourning dress, a hat with a long black feather in it, and supported herself with a polished cane.

“Mr. Lockerby,” she said, quickly wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “You do turn up in the strangest places.”

“The funeral for Father Harry just finished,” he said.

“The priest who helped raise you,” Sorsha said. She’d done her homework apparently.

“I take it this is the service for your man, Hitchens,” Alex said, noting that there wasn’t any grave dug, just a headstone. Sorsha nodded.

“He was with me since just after I came into my powers,” she said. “He was younger then. I knew him a long time. He was a genuinely good man.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

“All things end, Alex,” she said, though she didn’t sound like she wanted to believe it.

“Thank you for the check,” he said, after a pause.

“You earned it.”

“Where are you staying?” He was just making conversation to fill the awkward silence, but she suddenly turned on him, her face full of anger. She slapped him hard across the face and Alex staggered back.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“Don’t you dare ask me that,” she hissed, limping up to him. “You dumped my home into the Atlantic. My home! Every precious memory I had, every letter, every memento is at the bottom of the ocean.”

Alex held up his good hand to ward off any more blows.

“Might I remind you that I didn’t drop your house out of the sky,” he said. “I just decided where it would land.”

“At no small expense to yourself, I hear,” she said, her voice seething.

Alex wasn’t sure, but he thought for a moment that this might be the real reason she had slapped him.

“I did what needed to be done,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, her voice cold. “All hail the savior of New York.” Her tone implied mockery, but there was no trace of levity in her eyes.

“That’s me,” Alex said with exaggerated false modesty.

“And yet only you and I and Doctor Bell will ever know that New York City almost died yesterday.”

“I didn’t do it for the glory,” Alex said.

“I know,” she said, then she smiled demurely. “You’re in it for the money.” Then she stepped forward and kissed him. She pressed against him, holding him by the back of the neck. When she finally let go, her cheeks were flushed and she looked a bit sheepish.

“Sorceress,” Alex said, a smile creeping onto his face. “I didn’t know—”

She put her finger on his lips to silence him.

“Don’t read too much into that,” she said. “You saved my life, and the life of everyone in the city. I don’t know the exact price you paid, but Doctor Bell seems to think you a great fool, so I can only guess it was high. Decades of your life?”

“Something like that,” he said.

The look she gave him swept up from his face to his snowy hair and then back down.

“I don’t want to see you again, Alex,” she said, her cold, officious voice returning. “Sorcerers live for hundreds of years, but I’m still very young as sorcerers go. I haven’t had to watch people I care about die.” She nodded toward the stone that marked Hitchens’ empty grave. “He’s the first.”

“And you don’t want me to be the second?”

“Something like that,” she sent his words back at him. “I wish you well, Alex,” she said, then limped away on her cane.

Alex watched her go until she reached the street, stepping into a long, sleek floater. He knew what her request not to see him meant, what feelings she was covering up. He knew all too well, which was why he didn’t run after her. She deserved someone who could be there for her. She deserved better than he could offer.

“So long, beautiful,” he said as the car lifted up into the air and climbed out of sight.