“Let’s get out of here,” Kian said.
In the elevator, I asked, “Do you have any idea why the boss man offered me a visit to the Oracle?”
He shook his head. “Wedderburn doesn’t explain his motives.”
Wedderburn was an inhuman creature, dreamed up long ago, and it might be a waste of my time to try and understand his mind. “I know who he is. At least … I’m pretty sure.”
“Wait until we’re out of here.”
I nodded. Kian took my hand as he led me out of the building and I kept quiet until we got in the car. “Safe now?”
“Give me a sec.” With my help, he sealed it, using the last of his supply. “Go ahead.”
“Father Frost, Ded Moroz, Woden. There’s substantial cultural crossover in the stories. And when the beliefs of a large populace overlap, something permanent is created.”
I remembered the Oracle’s tone when she said, I had agency. While humans might’ve created these things, we no longer controlled their actions. From the look of things, we hadn’t for a long time. Set free in our world, they were embroiled in some kind of game, with dire consequences for the mortals who got mixed up in the match.
Like Kian and me.
Wedderburn seemed to view people as chess pieces, which might reflect how the rest of the immortals saw us. I didn’t know what else to call them, really. Regardless of definitions, I had to work out the rules of engagement pretty damn quick and identify the key players. Otherwise, creatures like the thin man would catch me off guard. In this scenario, lack of preparation could be dangerous.
It’s a good thing I always liked doing my homework.
I thought aloud. “You texted me, warning me about the thin man. Said he had to do with the opposition. Does that mean he works for Dwyer?”
Kian started the car. “He’s one of his enforcers, impossible to shake.”
“Does Wedderburn have monsters like that working for him, too? Why aren’t they playing the game on their own terms?”
He nodded as he pulled out of the garage. “For most, it’s a question of power and resources. Lesser beings don’t have the juice to compete.” Before I could ask anything else, he added, “That’s all I know. I’m sorry.”
“Why isn’t the Oracle free to play the game?” I asked, changing tacks.
“She’s a forfeit,” Kian said. “Caught in amber.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Basically, belief in her didn’t last long enough to make her permanent. She was real to the ancient Greeks, but to the modern world? Not so much. Wedderburn sent one of his agents back and captured her because she’s useful in the game.”
“So if she left her cave, she’d … dissolve?”
“More or less.”
“Then why does she want out so bad?”
“If your choices were oblivion or an infinity alone in prison, which would you pick?”
He made a good point. “Now I kind of feel sorry for her.”
“Don’t. She would’ve killed us both, if we hadn’t run.”
That was probably true of most immortals. I took comfort in his promise to protect me. “What do you call them?”
“Who?”
“Your employers, the two sides in this infernal chess match.”
“I haven’t had anyone to talk about them with before now.”
Taken aback, I fell silent for a moment, trying to imagine that. He had no friends, no close acquaintances, even. “What happened to your liaison? Raoul? Did you get to hang out with him, at least, after your circumstances changed?” I was trying to avoid referring to him as a company drone. More important, I hoped Kian had one person inside WM&G that he could count on.
“Missing,” he said tersely, navigating through traffic.
I didn’t immediately recognize this part of the city, but I hadn’t been paying that much attention as he drove away. “Is that even possible? Don’t they monitor all of you?” I pointed at his watch.
“A year ago, he stole an artifact and disappeared.” His tone told me how betrayed he felt, like he’d lost his only friend.
From that, I guessed, “Are you discouraged from bonding with other … liaisons?”
“They keep us on edge, so we never know who to trust. Early on, you learn that people in the organization may not be who they seem or their allegiances may not be what you thought.”
“You’ve been burned?”
“Just once,” he said softly. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Are you sure about me?”
“I know you don’t work for Wedderburn.”
I smiled. “There’s that, at least.”
“You’re putting things together fast, probably faster than they expect. But catalysts are generally smart as hell or they wouldn’t be on track for achieving something important.”
Drawing in a sharp breath, I whispered, “You talk like you’re not even human.”
“I am. The tone is a side effect of learning too much about the game. But I haven’t felt like I was for a long time. Even before extremis.”
“Help me understand something,” I began.
“If I can.”
“Why do immortals want power in our world? What’s the draw?”
Kian shook his head. “It’s bigger than me, Edie. I can’t guess what the endgame is, but it’s not as simple as winner gets to destroy the world. After talking to you, I don’t think it’s about ruling, either, though that might be part of it.”
“Maybe it’s entertainment,” I speculated.
He shot me a look that said he didn’t understand.
“Say you live forever, right? You’re real … but not truly part of the natural order, forever apart, forever … other. You probably feel a certain ambivalence and maybe downright enmity toward your paltry creators. You can do anything, more or less, but over the eons, you get bored. What’s the ultimate challenge?”
“Pitting yourself against other immortals and using humans as chess pieces?”
“Maybe the outcome isn’t the point. Maybe it’s the game. It might seem reasonable by their standards, like we owe them compensation, entertainment at our expense?”
“Sounds reasonable, if by that, you mean completely insane.”
I doubted it was so simple, but it was also beyond me not to try and put a puzzle together. “Did they tell you what you would’ve achieved if Tanya hadn’t died and you’d remained on track as a catalyst?”