7.6
“No way,” Walker says, as soon as he figures out what the calling card is for. Landis sees the moment of realization as it happens: Walker’s eyes going wide, his pained expression darkening into a scowl. “Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen. Put that shit away.”
“We can’t beat them,” Landis says. He can feel a headache lingering on the edges of his temples like an approaching storm cloud, and blinks twice, slowly, trying to push it off a little longer. “You would have died out there, if they’d wanted you to! You said it yourself - neither of us saw the shot coming. And those other two guys - they’ve got the same powers as you, don’t they? Maybe even stronger -”
“No one has powers stronger than mine,” Walker snaps, with a sort of finality that just dares Landis to bring it up again.
Must be a touchy subject, Landis thinks. He watches Walker fumble with the box of bandages for a moment before turning his eyes towards Jeremy, who’s been hovering silently over the television since their arrival in the apartment. The two lock eyes for just a moment, then Jeremy looks away, staring pointedly at the floor, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.
“You’re still here,” Landis says, turning slightly so Walker knows the comment isn’t addressed to him.
“Yeah,” Jeremy says. His voice is soft, and it’s clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Why?”
“Well, if you two die, someone has to tell everyone else what’s up.” Jeremy smiles, raising his gaze to meet Landis’s again. It’s a different smile from the ones he gave Landis while he was still alive - much thinner. More acerbic. “Besides, Austin’s helped us out a lot. I figure I’d better at least try and return the favor.”
He drifts backwards into the wall behind the television, letting it swallow his incorporeal form, and effectively ending the conversation. Landis watches the wall for a moment in the vain hopes that Jeremy might come back, then sighs and throws himself onto the couch next to Walker. Walker’s cell phone jostles between them, nearly wedging itself into the gap between the cushions before Walker reaches over and saves it.
“Your friend’s not so talkative, huh?” he asks Landis, an eyebrow arched.
“No,” Landis says, glancing around the apartment, trying to gauge if Jeremy is still listening. There’s no signs either way, but he still chooses his words carefully. “He’s not over everything that happened with the lake, I think. But that’s his right.”
“Sure it is,” Walker says, a little dismissively, flipping his phone open. “Well, unfortunately, I’ve got to get ahold of someone who’s even more of a pain to talk to, if we’re ever going to find out anything about Jenny’s friends.”
“Who?” Landis asks.
Walker grins, his lips peeling back to reveal teeth. “One of my bosses. Brace yourself.”
Does he mean Jacob? Landis thinks, puzzled. He’s never quite understood why Walker and Austin dislike Jacob so much. From his admittedly limited experience, it seems like Jacob is just trying his best to keep everything from spiralling out of control. Landis nearly voices the opinion, but remembers Walker’s outburst from before, and decides to bite his tongue. I probably shouldn’t make him angry again right before he gets on the phone with his boss, anyway.
Walker punches a few buttons on the phone, and holds it up between himself and Landis, around the height of his now-bandaged shoulder. Landis can hear a tinny ringing coming from the phone’s speaker that, as Walker clicks the volume button on the side, grows steadily more and more audible.
“Wait,” he says, his throat tight. “I don’t have to say -”
Walker shakes his head. “I’ll do the talking. I just don’t feel like memorizing all this shit and repea-”
“Hi there, you’ve reached the Department of Paranormal Research,” a human, surprisingly cheerful voice on the other end rattles off, talking over the rest of Walker’s sentence. “This is Adrian, how can I help you?”
“Yeah, can you transfer me to…” Walker pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, squeezing his eyes shut in thought. “Uh, extension 526?”
“Sure thing! If I could just get your name and badge number first, that’d be swell.”
Walker looks close to bursting a blood vessel. Nonetheless, he pulls his wallet out of his pocket and recites a multiple-digit number, then his name, through gritted teeth. The secretary on the other end of the line takes a moment to respond, and Landis can faintly hear keys tapping, as though they’re looking Walker up.
“Great,” the secretary says, eventually. “Thank you for your patience, Agent Rivers. I’ll transfer you now.”
Walker opens his mouth, his eyes glittering like he’s about to say something rude, but the phone clicks abruptly and becomes a dial tone again. It rings exactly twice before someone picks up.
“This better be good.”
It’s not a voice Landis recognizes - it’s slightly deeper than Jacob’s, with a flat affect to it that suggests its owner isn’t willing to play into Walker’s usual nonsense. Walker doesn’t seem to take the hint, a grin spreading across his face as starts to lean more casually against the back of the couch.
“Now, Cillian,” he says, crossing one leg over the other, “is that any way to talk to one of your most important agents?”
There’s a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “What do you want, Walker?”
“Nobody warned me that a bunch of mercs were about to roll up into town,” Walker says. His tone is carefully casual, and he studies his nails as he talks, clearly waiting for Cillian’s reaction before he continues. Landis shifts slightly closer to him on the couch, to hear a little better.
“What?” Cillian asks, voice going from flat to genuinely surprised in the span of a few seconds. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, a bunch of mercs just rolled up into town,” Walker says. “Well, three of them, anyway. Jenny Nicosia, and two guys I don’t recognize. I was hoping you could look them up in that big database of yours and tell me what their deal is.”
There’s the faint sound of typing again, from Cillian’s end of the line. “You’re going to have to give me more to go on than just ‘two guys’. Do you think they’re in town to attack you?”
“No idea, but I don’t really want to find out.”
Walker makes sudden eye contact with Landis as he lies, his gaze steely, obviously communicating one thing - don’t tell. Landis, for all his mistrust of Walker’s methods, immediately understands why. If the Department knows Austin is missing, they’re going to go into panic mode immediately. Jacob’s going to be a mess. And Walker won’t get any of the information we need to know about the people who took Austin, which means we won’t be able to make a plan.
“So, the two guys with Jenny,” Walker continues, without missing a beat. “One’s tall, maybe a couple inches shorter than me, skinny, short red hair, big scar down the left side of his face. The other’s short, chubby, brown hair in kind of a rat-tail deal. They’re both British, so you might have to dip into the files from across the pond -”
“No need,” Cillian interrupts, still audibly typing. “I think I’ve found them.”
“Yeah?” Walker asks. His eyebrows shoot up, but he seems content not to ask anything else, and waits for Cillian to elaborate.
“Hallsey Halloway is your redhead, Benedict Oates is your brunette,” Cillian says. “Both hired mercenaries - a package deal. They were born in England, but started working locally about a year ago.”
“Their powers,” Landis mouths to Walker, who nods.
“Does it mention them having powers at all?” he asks, doing a passable job of sounding like he doesn’t already know the answer.
“No direct reports from agents, but plenty of witness interviews that point towards one or both of them having telekinesis.” Cillian’s tone shifts again, from businesslike recitation to strained, albeit authentic, concern. “Their file says they have a one hundred percent success rate on assignments, and a body count of approximately forty between the two of them, not counting at least five unconfirmed reports.”
At least forty people. They’ve killed at least forty people. The thought reverberates in Landis’s head. There’s a lump in his throat that feels like it’s the size of his fist. The image of Austin, slumped bonelessly in a chair within the motel room as the door slams shut, plays over and over in his mind’s eye. A one hundred percent success rate. We’re out of our fucking depth.
He looks to Walker, and finds him equally stunned, a funny little smile frozen in place on his lips. The knuckles of the hand wrapped around his phone are paper white.
“I don’t think I have to remind you of Jenny Nicosia’s success rate,” Cillian says. “You were very lucky to escape her once.”
“Uh-huh,” Walker says.
“I don’t recommend you engage with this group,” Cillian goes on, back to being stern. “If they haven’t made contact with you, it’s likely that they’re just passing through. If you have any reason to suspect that they mean you or Austin harm, you need to get to a safe space, and call in for backup. We can send the Area 51 squad -”
“Yep,” Walker says, a little too loudly, “thanks, got it. I gotta go walk Austin home from work now, but I’ll keep you posted.”
“See that you do,” Cillian says. “And…Walker?”
“Yeah.”
“Do tell Austin I said hello.”
“Right,” Walker says, and snaps his phone shut without another word. He tips his head back, resting it on the back of the couch and staring up at the ceiling, and lets out a long, exasperated groan.
“You heard him,” Landis says, quietly. He still has his wallet in his hands, and runs a fingertip along the edge of Naberius’s calling card, sticking just slightly out from between two dollar bills. “One hundred percent success rate. We’ll die if we go back there without help.”
“Out of the question,” Walker snaps. “I’m not letting you owe a favor to some - some demon.”
“That’s not really your decision to make,” Landis says, trying to sound much more collected than he feels. He doesn’t want to summon Naberius to help without getting Walker’s consent first - making a plan will be easier if they can all work together - but he will if he has to. If it means getting Austin back without anyone (save maybe the hitmen) dying in the process.
Walker is quiet for a long time, then, at last, lets out another groan.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll try it your way. But I’m not coming to save you if you get stuck in another duel to the death.”