Free Perennial by Ryan Potter Page B

times. There’s plenty of
blood and gore in your recent past. And future, I’m afraid. But deep down you
like it. You love the thrill of battle. The taste of it. The smell of it.
Everything.” I pull my hand away, exhale deeply, and lean back in my chair.
“That’s enough,” I say. “What the hell was all that about?”
    “You
just passed another test,” she says, retrieving her phone. “And with flying
colors, I should add.” London leans across the table and motions me forward. I
lean toward her, and in a whisper she says, “I sure hope you solve William’s
murder, Alix, because you’re incredibly gifted, and I would love to work with
you. You just read me like a book and got a glimpse of what my real job is.”
She smiles. “You can help us in so many ways. There are sacrifices involved,
but it’s Vagabond’s job to explain all that.” She places her right palm on my
left cheek in an almost-motherly way. The warmth of the silver ring feels
pleasant against my skin. “I wish I could help you in Oval City, but this is
your test. You’re on your own. Evil isn’t just somebody who does a very bad
thing. Evil is much deeper than that. You know that from what you just saw.”
She lowers her ring hand and squeezes my left hand with the kind of strength
guys never dreamed girls could have. “Oval City is evil, Alix. That’s why bad
things happen there. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    “Yes,”
I say, nodding. “I’m scared, London.”
    “I
know,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared. I’m scared every
day. Vagabond says courage is being scared to death of something but
confronting it anyway.” She pauses. “Trust your abilities, but don’t trust anything
or anybody else.”
    “Okay,”
I say. “Thank you, London.”
    “I’ll
say the last part again,” she says. “Don’t trust anything or anybody else. Anybody .”
She stands, pushes her chair in, and grabs her clear plastic drink cup. “I know
you’ll do great,” she adds, smiling and laying a hand on my shoulder. “Good
luck.”
    “Here,”
I say, covertly retrieving Aruna’s silver knife from my back pocket and palming
the sheath as I offer it to London. “Take this. You’re the warrior. Not me.”
    “Actually,
I think you should keep that,” she says, pushing my hand back toward me. “It
might come in handy. Besides, my personal arsenal is good to go.” She winks.
“Good-bye, Alix, but not for long. We’ll see each other soon under very
different circumstances. I just know it.”
    I turn in my
chair and watch London Steel exit Zeppelin Coffee. She moves with the
confidence of a runway supermodel, the only difference between her and a
supermodel being she doesn’t look like she has an eating disorder. What I find
funny is that every male in here is basically foaming at the mouth as they
watch her leave.

Chapter 12
    A small yellow
envelope with my name written on it in black marker waits for me on the
driver’s seat of my Explorer when I leave Zeppelin. There’s no sign of forced
entry into the vehicle, so I have no clue how the tiny package arrived. I check
the back of the SUV to make sure nobody’s hiding there. All clear.
    I
get in and start the engine, savoring the chilly air as the air conditioner
cools the hot, sticky interior. The envelope is sealed. I press on it in
different spots. It feels empty. I decide to open it using my thumbnail to
break the seal.
    I
don’t see anything at first, but as I poke my index finger around to widen the
inside of the envelope, I see what looks like purple powder at the bottom. I
adjust my glasses and squint for a better view. Sure enough, that’s exactly
what it is: purple powder, about an inch of it, loose and dry. I waft my hand
from the open end of the envelope toward my nose. The substance has no smell
that I can detect.
    I
freak for a few moments and reseal the envelope as I remember news stories
about politicians and some of their staff people