Sunset Volume 2: High Noon

Sanctuary. Somewhere in Germany.

They crossed the border into Germany a day later, traveling through the night. Reeve convinced people driving vehicles large enough to fit them all to give them rides when he could, and when he couldn’t, they walked. They pitched lean-to’s in secluded areas and slept in piles or crashed in hostels that were empty during the day while Reeve stayed up, keeping the staff from bothering them. His head reeled from lack of sleep and the uppers made his jaw ache with a familiar pain. They kept as silent as possible, so as to leave less of a trace for trackers and psychometrists. They got into the city the night of the fourth day, and Noah texted them the address. A young man dropped them off in his van and drove away to find himself unexpectedly in the city and with no memory of the last two hours.

They walked the last mile to the Sanctuary, not wanting the driver to bring them too close.

When they reached the correct street, the five of them fanned out to comb the sidewalks for signs partially obscured by shaggy hedges. They followed the sticks into a smallish apartment building. Their feet plodded heavily, sweeping the doorways for something off, until they came across one with two doormats, one stacked on top of the other. Eyes red and tired, Gareth knocked three times and the lot of them stood back, waiting.

Noah answered the door and grinned at seeing them. “Welcome, brothers. Enter with Christ.” He swung the door open and stepped back.

“May your god protect you and yours,” Shvedov answered. It sounded practiced and not yet automatic, but sincere, nonetheless. They piled into the apartment. Noah slapped Reeve on the back and put an arm around Alex as they filed in. It was a tiny, maybe two bedroom flat, and furnished sparsely.

“You made it,” Noah said, his voice light with pride. “How was the travel?”

“Cold and dirty,” Alex answered.

“It was fine,” Reeve sighed.

Noah gestured for them to sit in the living room. “Any Neptune run-ins since I left?”

Hannah plopped down onto the floor and started stretching her calves. “No,” she said.

“Good. Good, everyone get comfortable. Let me take that,” he reached out an arm to take a bag from Alyosha. Reeve watched him, over eager, but not looking at his thoughts. He’d learned better, but he kept his channels open, hoping to find something passively.

“How are you healing?”

Reeve snapped back into the present to look at Noah. “Oh, yeah I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said again. “I talked to a tracker. He says he’ll talk to you. I’ve gotta tell you though, he’s not happy about it.”

“Why?” Shvedov raised his eyebrows.

Noah shrugged. “He doesn’t like Icarus.”

“When?” Reeve asked.

“Tomorrow night. He’s in Munich now, about an hour south of here.” He pulled a book from the shelf and leafed through the pages until a small slip of paper fell out. He picked it up and handed it to Gareth.

“This is a location for a dead drop. That will tell you where to meet.”

“Damn, this guy is paranoid.”

“He really doesn't like Icarus,” Noah said simply, shrugging.

Reeve looked around to see everyone else was scanning the room too, all wondering if they were leaving now. “We’ll stay and sleep through the day and head out tomorrow.” He turned to Noah, “If that’s alright with you, if you have the space.”

“No point in asking. It’s a Sanctuary.”

He nodded and cracked a smile. “In that case, how much hot water do you have?”

Later, after they had showered and eaten with loud, raucous mouthfuls crowded around the small Sanctuary table, Reeve began laying out a bedroll on the living room floor. The sun was beginning to come up, though the thick curtains blocked out the worst of it.

Noah called his name from the kitchen, leaning around the corner. “Go sleep in one of the bedrooms.”

“I’m alright here. I was going to stay by the door.”

“I’m not sleeping. Take a bed while you have it.” When Reeve hesitated, he continued, “I’m just going to keep you up out here with the tv on. Go. I’ve got tonight.”

Reeve nodded, his throat catching on a thank you he didn’t say. He stowed his bedroll in their pile and headed down the hall. He stuck his head in the first bedroom and saw Gareth and Hannah collapsed and already sleeping in a tangled pile, crowded on a twin bed. (They'd found that, when space was tight, the Church allowed for some leeway in gendered company if you already traveled together.) In the second bedroom, a small light was still on. Shvedov had set up a cot by the door and had wrapped himself tightly with blankets nearly up to his eyes. Alex was in the bed mashing at a pillow. Reeve scanned the room for a second cot, but didn’t find one.

“There’s room,” Alex whispered, noticing him and moving to one side. Alex pointed to Shvedov. "I told him the same thing."

Something in his belly squirmed and his feet felt nailed to the floor. He couldn’t put his finger on why and shook it off. He moved quietly past Alyosha and sat on the bed. It gave with his weight and he immediately felt his need for sleep multiply. He sat there silently for a long moment, looking down and staring at the dirty cuffs of his jeans, knowing they were too dirty to leave on, but unable to move.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked softly. The buzz around his head was murky with sleep, but pricked at Reeve with that same unease he felt in his stomach. Reeve nodded, unbuttoned, and stepped out of his jeans, leaving them in a stiff pile on the ground. He laid back, his muscles relaxing into the bed, and closed his eyes. It burned like fire, but he willed himself to keep them closed a little longer until the sting began to fade. The orange-tinged darkness seemed to spin behind his eyelids and sent a wave of gooseflesh running down his body. With a click, Alex switched off the light and the sudden pitch black startled his eyes back open. The burning abated, but he was blind and he felt his heart rate rise.

Alex shifted next to him. He could hear his breathing near his ear. He narrowed his telepathy to avoid listening to his head. “How is your Reading tonight?” Reeve asked.

“It’s fine actually. Quiet.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s your head?”

“I’m fine. You should sleep.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m ‘bout to pass out.”

Reeve felt the bed move as Alex turned to face away from him. He felt the sudden absence of his body heat keenly. He closed his eyes again and focused on the searing pain. Alex’s arm reached back, blindly banging against Reeve’s chest and stomach. Reeve caught it in his hand to protect his sore rib cage. Alex’s hand twisted in his hold to get a grip on Reeve’s wrist and pulled. Not hard. Not enough to turn him over, just enough that Reeve knew what he was doing.

Reeve shifted onto his side and Alex started tugging again, wrapping Reeve’s arm around his waist and tucked his hand under his belly. Reeve moved closer to settle in, using his free hand to try to tame the worst of Alex’s hair.

Alex shifted back, forming his back to the bend of Reeve’s chest. He laid his arm over Reeve’s, hand resting lightly on the back of his wrist. Reeve curled his legs up to mirror Alex’s without touching him. Alex let out a light, contented breath. Reeve’s hand was frozen, held unnaturally still against Alex’s stomach. If he moved it, Alex’s shirt shifted against his skin and it doubled the volume of Alex’s thoughts.

“Reeve? Do you think this guy we’re going to meet is crazy?”

“Not any crazier than anyone else in the Church, probably.”

Alex grunted in agreement. “I can’t feel your head.”

“What?”

“You’re telepathy. It’s all...tucked away or something.” His voice was sleepy and soft. “Normally I can feel you, but it’s like you’re almost gone.”

Reeve opened his eyes again, his eyelashes catching Alex’s hair. It was dark, but he could make out the line of his shoulder. “It’s a new city,” he said after a moment. “I’m concentrating outwardly, so I’m not really using my normal links. I want to get the lay of the land.”

Alex didn’t respond, but he felt him nod his head. Reeve tried to keep breathing slowly and keep his hand still and hoped that Alex was too tired to call him out on his excuse that didn’t make sense. He was exhausted.

“Night,” Alex murmured, moving his hand over Reeve’s arm. Reeve closed his eyes again, the sting fading, dropped his forehead against Alex’s back, and gave his waist a brief squeeze.

“Night.”

---

Munich, Germany.

They left the next night. Hannah had half-hoped Noah would go with them, but that wasn’t how it worked in the Church. They stole a car and made the couple hours’ drive to Munich and found their way to the address on the paper.

It led them to the parking lot of a public park. “Now what?” Hannah asked.

“Some kind of dead drop,” Gareth said, scratching his head.

Hannah scanned the area as best she could in the low streetlights. “So there’s some message here. This is a little ridiculous.”

“It’s probably hidden in plain sight,” Alyosha said, exhaling heavily.

“They’re like that,” Alex said, nodding. “Something that seems just a little off.”

It wasn’t easy to search a dim parking lot without looking suspicious, but they did what they could. Gareth found it eventually.

He waved them over. “Roadkill.”

“No,” Reeve protested. “Really?”

Gareth pointed to a squirrel just where the pavement met grass.

“Did you check it?” Hannah asked, curling her lip.

“No, but what kind of squirrel gets hit by a car while it’s parking?” He crouched down and flipped the poor thing over with a twig. It looked like it was harder to do than she’d expect. He bent low, shining a light, his face set. “Aw, Jesus, there’s something in its mouth.”

Alex shook his head, “That’s fucked up.”

“It’s old school Cold War shit,” Reeve said from behind Hannah.

Gareth slowly pulled out a plastic-wrapped bit of paper, rolled into a tight tube. He stood, shaking it. “Let’s go.”

They went into the park and sat on some benches under a tree. The park was nearly empty this time of day and no one bothered them. Still, Hannah kept her back to them, facing the parking lot as Gareth unrolled the note.

“It’s a ripped piece of menu. ‘Bohm’s’ something. There’s an address. He wrote ‘nine pm’ on it and a little drawing of a daisy. What the fuck?”

“We should go then,” Reeve said, voice stiff.

“We need to ditch this car,” Alex replied. “We’ve had it too long.”

Reeve nodded. “We’ll see if we can walk there.”

Gareth put a hand on Reeve’s shoulder to slow him down and turned to Hannah. “Will you go invisible?”

“You think we have something to worry about?” Alyosha asked, cocking his head.

“I don’t trust anything.”

Reeve tensed his brow. “I trust Noah.”

“That must be awesome for you.”

“Gareth,” Reeve started in that voice that Hannah knew was the beginning of a fight. Gareth wasn’t having it.

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup plan. I just had to shove my fingers down a dead rat’s throat because this guy doesn’t trust us, so I think having one extra person in the wings is fair.”

“It’s fine,” she said. Dropping her bag, she went transparent and slipped off her clothes in two quick movements. “Let’s go.”

They showed up at the pub about thirty minutes early and stopped just outside the door. “How are we supposed to know who it is?” Alyosha asked, sneaking a look through the window. Hannah pressed her face close to the glass. It was dark inside, with thick wooden tables and tinted hanging lamps.

“I think I’ll be able to figure it out,” Reeve said.

“No telepathy against the Church,” Alex reminded him.

He nodded. “No prying, just an open net.”

“It’s a little seedy, but busy,” Gareth said. “That’s a good sign he doesn’t intend to fuck around.”

“Do we all go?” Alex asked.

Reeve shook his head. “Shvedov, you stay here and mind the exit. I think the rest of us going in won’t look off, since Hannah’s ghosting. Good?”

“Yeah,” Gareth agreed.

“Lemme have my razor, just in case,” Hannah said quickly.

Reeve shrugged and Alex dug into her bag and pulled out a small razor blade. She plucked it from his fingers and put it in her mouth, carefully curling her tongue around it to set it into place between her teeth and cheek.

Reeve opened the door and Gareth followed him in, a little slower than normal, allowing her to slip in between them and make her way into the building. They paused at the front while Reeve scanned the room. It was busy, which was good, but the clientele didn’t seem like the type to have never seen a bar fight, either.

Back left, Reeve thought to them. He’s alone and has a bouquet of daisies on the table like he’s waiting for a date.

Let me go first, she thought to them. He nodded.

Hannah spotted the table at the very back. A man was sitting on his own at a large corner booth in the back, the type with a high wooden partition on three sides for privacy. He was reading a battered paperback and the empty cocktail glass made it clear he had been here a while. The daisies were a little crushed and wilting. He was short and probably around Reeve’s age, maybe a little older, with scraggly brown hair, half-heartedly combed back from his face. His arms, where they were visible under his rolled-up sleeves, were heavily tattooed, more colorful than the older Children they’d seen, crawling up his wrists onto his hands, culminating in a sacred heart. Hannah got as close as she dared, close enough to smell the cigarette smoke soaked into his somewhat ratty clothes. He didn’t react.

Okay, she thought to Reeve and moved back to stand beside the Child, waiting for them.

The man looked up as they approached, but didn’t stand. His face took on a hard, twisted look as he studied Reeve, following him with his eyes; that made her nervous.

“I’m a friend of Noah,” Reeve said after stopping in front of him. “Am I at the right table?”

“Sit,” he said, gesturing with one hand. The others fanned around, but the man never took his eyes off of Reeve. His energy was strung taut. It made Hannah want to take a step back. “You are Icarus?” he asked him. His voice was accented. Eastern European, maybe Russian.

“Yes,” Reeve nodded.

“What did your name used to be?”

There was a beat and she could see the darting movement of his eyes as he considered the question. “Reeve del Sol.”

Something happened faster than Hannah could register. There was a flare of energy that pummeled through her chest. She moved her head to look at the man, but the sight of Reeve ripping his pistol out from under his jacket rocked her onto her heels. Shocked and delayed, she spit the razor into her hand and turned to swing it at the Child, but he hadn't moved. She stopped her hand, the blade aimed at his neck but frozen, waiting. She turned her head. Gareth had thrown his shoulder in front of Alex, blocking him from the man’s line of sight just as Alex yelped Reeve’s name in a small voice that broke at the edges.

She looked to Reeve for direction and saw that he had his gun in his lap, held below the table and pointed backward at his own stomach. A wave of cold nausea choked her and she turned again to look at the man. His face was hard and his nostrils flared in anger.

The man’s eyes didn’t waver from Reeve’s as he slowly said, “Put it down, Hannah.”

Her tongue stuck uncomfortably to the roof of her mouth, dry and cold, as she tried to steady her breathing and her shaking hand.

“He’s in my head,” Reeve said softly, not moving a muscle. His voice sounded like he was in pain. “Everyone stay calm.”

“Reeve,” Gareth ground out, his voice low. The muscles in his arms were jumping, coiled to spring. Hannah’s instincts were to think loudly to Reeve, ask him for direction, but she held back, lost. She studied the man instead. What sort of telepath could overpower Reeve, but not notice her when she first walked over to stand next to him? She let her hand drift closer to his throat.

His arm shot out and took hold of her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked it down so his fist was resting innocuously on the table to the naked eye. She twisted to grab this throat with her other hand but the indent that the gun barrel was making in Reeve’s shirt stopped her. Alex made a sudden motion that Gareth swiftly quieted, keeping him from launching himself across the table.

The man gave her arm a jerk. “I am going to scan her head and see what the fuck you think you are doing.”

Hannah swallowed a small noise and tensed her body, trying to build up her mental defenses.

“You can do that,” Reeve said flatly, “but as soon as you do, you will lose your hold on my mind.”

“You think you can kick me out?” His face was quiet and even.

“You’re a mimic. So you have the same level of skill as I do right now.”

“Yes.”

“You had surprise on your side, but I’m guessing you don’t have uppers in your system.”

He sneered at that. “So why don’t you kick me out now?”

“I think I could. But it’s not worth having to find someone to sew my stomach up if I can’t do it on the first try.”

The man sat back, though the painful grip on her arm didn’t loosen an inch. “I don’t remember you ever sounding this reasonable back in the Academy.”

Reeve blinked. Hannah looked to Gareth, who was staring in her direction.

“Still a superior prick, though, I see.”

“Mimic,” Reeve murmured, his brow pulling down. Hannah watched his eyes go slightly vacant and when she turned, the man across from him had a thin bead of blood gathered below his nose. He sniffed and shook his head.

Reeve sat back too, pistol still pressed tight to his stomach. “If you’re going to scan her, do it now. It’s going to be a long night, Misha.”

***