Purpose (25 page)

“Will”—his face relaxed, and he reached out to rub Will’s chest—“I
have
thought this out. I’m going to practice telling people not to notice me, and you’re going to be there to make sure they don’t.”

“Is this really necessary? Can’t you just tell me, and once we’re further along in your training, we try a field example?”

“Will, I’ve done things the way you wanted—”

“No, you haven’t.” An image of Ryan getting coffee the day before was fresh in his mind.

Ryan bobbed his head side to side, a mocking fake sneer on his face. “Okay, I stayed inside like you asked,
other
than going for coffee yesterday. My point is, this is not an actual mission. All we’re doing is going to the hood to look around. We’re both going to take steps not to be seen. How much safer can we be? How much more controlled can you make it?”

Maybe he was being overprotective.
Probably
. The problem was, this was all new to him. He had no experience bringing someone along when he went after the guilty. His instincts told him it was a mistake. On the other hand, eventually he’d need to take Ryan with him. As far as missions went, this one was safer than most.

“Fine.” He snapped his head up and down once. “But at the first sign of trouble, you’re leaving. Agreed?”

“No. You don’t get to decide when we leave. There
is
going to be trouble. That’s the point of this. But, if things get crazy, I agree we can leave.”

Will mulled over the response. It was probably the best he was going to wring from Ryan. “The only way I’ll agree to this is if you let me decide if things are too dangerous. In return, I promise not to be a Nervous Nelly and force us to run at the first sign of trouble.”

Ryan snorted. “Nervous Nelly? What the hell is that, another ancient expression?”

Shaking his head, Will flicked his hand in the direction they had been walking. “Never mind, just tell me what you learned before we get where we are going.”

“Basically, my Purpose doesn’t latch onto souls, like yours.” Ryan took a sip as they waited for the light to change. “The best way I can describe it is that mine scans people’s thoughts, focusing on the particularly violent ones.”

How was that even possible? “It can scan people’s thoughts? There are millions of people in a twenty-five-mile radius. How can it sift through all of that and pull out a particular event?”

Ryan held up his free hand and shrugged. “How can your Purpose attach itself to the soul of the dead person? I mean, we barely know what
It
does, forget about
how
.”

The light turned, but Will started to laugh before starting to cross. “Excellent point. But even if
It
has the capacity, that much information has got to overwhelm the host.”

“Not really.” Ryan shook his head slowly. “Don’t forget, just because someone has violent thoughts doesn’t mean they’ll act on them.”

“Wait, are you saying your Purpose not only collects and sorts through all these thoughts, but it can also determine which are most likely to result in an attack?” As impossible as that sounded, Will knew it was no more outlandish than a spirit that gave him all these enhanced abilities.

“Something like that.”

Will felt someone try to tell him Ryan wasn’t there. “It won’t work on me.”

“What?” Ryan stopped abruptly.

“You can’t trick my mind into believing you’re not there. I can feel you trying to manipulate my mind.”

“Just my luck, I try it on the one person who’s immune to my talents.” Ryan shrugged, giving Will a quick smile. “At least I know I’m doing it right.”

Smirking, Will stopped at the light. “That’s one way to look at it. Now, tell me again what your Purpose does.”

“I guess I didn’t explain it right.” Ryan stopped talking as they crossed the intersection. When they were back on the sidewalk, he nodded, seemingly to himself. “It doesn’t read thoughts, more like it senses emotions. The stronger the feeling, the stronger the link. When it finds violent emotions, it latches on and calls out to them.”

Will pulled up again. “So what you’re saying is, it finds—and let me be melodramatic—evil people and draws them to you, so I can deal with them?”

A small breeze swirled Ryan’s chestnut hair around his face. “That’s pretty much it, yes.”

Squeezing his eyes so tight he saw white behind his lids, Will shook his head. How could this be happening? It was impossible. There was no way he could protect Ryan.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“Not at you.” Never at Ryan.

“Will?” The voice was small, timid, almost in pain.

He didn’t open his eyes, but felt Ryan’s hands cup his face.

“Talk to me, please. I can feel you’re in pain. You’re bleeding emotions.” The concern in his boyfriend’s voice forced him to confront reality.

He tried to lock down his emotions, center himself away from his fears. “I can’t do this, Ryan. I just can’t.”

“Can’t do what?” Ryan had that playful smile he wore when he was teasing. “Can’t talk to me?”

“Stop, please. No jokes.” It was harsh, but he felt his world collapsing around him. This was David again, only this time, he would have to watch it happen. And this time, if Will snapped, he would be a danger to everyone.

“What else can I do but make light of this?” Slowly, Ryan rubbed the side of Will’s face. “You’re hurting, but you won’t talk to me.”

He wanted to scream, vent his anger at the world. How could
It
do this to him? Worse, how could
They
do it to Ryan?

“Faggots!” The word, spat from behind him, dripped with the hate he’d felt often enough, but always ignored. This was different. Not only was it directed at Ryan, the speaker was drawn to them.

Releasing Ryan, he spun so fast, the man behind him couldn’t react. Will’s right hand wrapped tightly, squeezing the throat as he hauled the man off his feet. Green eyes bulged beneath a balding head. The light-brown hair looked dirty, just like his clothing.

Stocky was a word heavy people used to describe themselves, and this “stocky” person’s weight was adding to the downward pressure around Will’s hand. His neck might snap if Will held him too long.
What a tragedy.

Probing the struggling man’s mind, Will quickly found several violent memories. “Curt,” that was the man’s name, and his friends were responsible for several gay bashings, one that put a victim in a coma.

“Will?” Ryan’s voice stopped his probe. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Too late for him,” Will said. “Your Purpose drew him to us. He’s beaten several gay men, one almost to death. I can’t let him just go.”

“What are you going to do?” The discomfort Ryan felt was leaking from his mind.

Lowering Curt, Will “told” the man to stand still. “The better question is what do you want me to do to him? There’s no need for me to do anything, but your Purpose brought him to us for a reason.”

His upper lip pinched between his teeth, Ryan’s eyes turned glassy. Will sensed he was searching for answers inside. Hard to believe he’d find any there. Ryan’s Purpose never had a host long enough to do its bidding.

“Griffin.” Ryan blinked twice before staring into Will’s eyes. “You said he worked violent crimes. Wouldn’t a gay bashing count?”

The suggestion made sense, but would it be enough? “Are you sure
It
will accept this as a solution?”

At first, all Will got was a shrug. Ryan withdrew again but returned quickly. “No, I’m not sure, but I don’t feel an urgent need to act. Whatever you do, I think
It
will be satisfied.”

“Fine”—he dug out his phone to call the detective—“but if that changes, you need to tell me immediately. Agreed?”

He noted Ryan’s nod of agreement as the phone rang. Pulling details from Curt’s mind, he almost missed Griffin answering the call.

“Good morning, Detective. I’ve solved another open case for you.”

W
ILL
filled two glasses with water and put the pitcher back in the refrigerator. He turned and saw Ryan seated at the dining room table. Will’s footsteps seemed to bring Ryan back from a deep thought.

“Isn’t there a way to turn it off?” Not that he could turn his Purpose off.

Accepting a glass, Ryan sighed. “Not sure, but I haven’t asked.”

Will wasn’t optimistic. The answers Ryan’s Purpose provided were vague at best. Even if there was a way,
It
might not be able to convey it in a manner Ryan or Will would understand.

“What about block it? If you can’t, what then? Should we expect to be attacked in the middle of the night when we’re sleeping?” Will could go days without sleep. He might need to start now, just to be certain Ryan was safe.

“No, I can’t block it. At least not that I’ve figured out so far.” He nearly drained his glass before setting it down. “But I did ask if there were any safe places I could go where
It
wouldn’t attract violence toward me.”

Glass to his lips, Will waited for the answer. “And? Did
It
answer you?”

“Yes, here.”

“Here? You mean this building is like sacred ground or something?” He knew that wasn’t what Ryan meant, but he wanted to show why one-word answers were so frustrating.

Rolling his eyes, Ryan stood up and went into the kitchen. “Exactly.” Opening a cabinet, his face was hidden from Will. “This place is that one in a billion, and fortune smiled on me when you brought me here.”

Will smiled. The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t too forced. “Well then, if that’s settled, how about we talk about tomorrow’s training schedule? I have a few ideas on how to bump up the intensity.”

“You’re so evil.” Box of cereal in hand, Ryan collected a bowl, spoon, and then the milk. “Home, silly.
It
doesn’t bring anyone to its host’s home.”

“
It
knows we live here and declared this place off-limits?” If that were true, Ryan’s Purpose was not only more sentient, it was more considerate as well.

“Something like that. Answers are, as I’ve said before, open to interpretation.” He put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and crunched away. “I wish you’d read my mind again so you could see the images for yourself. Bet you’d understand them better than me.”

He wouldn’t enter Ryan’s thoughts again unless it was a matter of life or death. David’s memories, all of them, were in there. “So far, you’re doing fine without me.”

For a moment, it looked to Will as though Ryan wanted to say something. Instead, he shoveled more food into his mouth.

Will used Ryan’s silence to make a point about what they had learned so far. “Hopefully, now you see why I wanted you to stay inside rather than walk down to Jolt ’N Bolt alone.”

“Whatever.” Tilting the bowl back, Ryan drained the last of the milk. “But don’t think you’re canceling the live demonstration. After we clean up, you promised we’d go back to see what happens.”

Will nodded. If Ryan thought this was going to be a clinical observation, he was mistaken. Coming home first allowed him to collect weapons he was certain they would need. “Don’t worry, I’m not. We’ll head over in an hour.”

Nothing good would come of this, but it was too late to change things now. Ryan was hell-bent on going, something that filled Will with a sense of dread. All Will could envision was sorrow, heartache, and loss. Just like with David.

April 6, 2010 Entry 39-29

A
NOTHER
first. I’m out on a “mission,” but there’s no body, no one dead, and my Purpose is quiet. This time, it’s Ryan’s Purpose that has me out. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening.

According to Ryan, his Purpose will draw out the bad elements and lead them to me. At least I hope it’s me they’re drawn to, and not Ryan. Another thing I don’t like: his life in danger.

His choice of neighborhoods, 7th and O, 5th and O, tells me he—or his Purpose—knows what they are doing. And that scares me. The two housing projects are separated by one square block. You’d think both places were desirable, the way these two groups beef. And when they beef, it usually turns deadly.

Ryan has the good sense to be cautious. Good, he’ll have a better chance of surviving if he keeps that attitude. What worries me most is the unknown. How this will play out is a mystery. I don’t like mysteries.

For the first time on a mission in I don’t know how long, I’m anxious. My hands keep checking my hidden pockets to be sure the weapons that were there five minutes ago are still there. Stupid, crazy, but it helps calm me—at least a little.

These two projects are so different. The tall towers of 7th and O are a relic of the old, “make ’em big,” housing projects that were once popular. Three-story buildings ringing a common area marked the change in public housing philosophy. That was 5th and O. Different concept, same result. Both have their crews to “protect” their turf.

I make us walk down 6th Street, NW. Neutral ground? I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Guess we’re about to find out.

“Are we hidden?” Ryan’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.