Accidental God 2.0 -- Section 05

[Another section. This book is definitely more serious than other books I've written, so if this puts some of you off, I apologize. I'm afraid this is the course the story is taking, though. We'll have to wait for Lord of the Manor for a more lighthearted tale.]

    Vera Mason waited for the oversized hit-man she'd hired to return. Bjorn Baernson. She'd found him through the cousin of the acquaintance of a guy she'd talked to in a bar in part of Northern Lights that, on a normal day (in a normal life) she wouldn't have even dreamed of stepping foot in, let alone sitting over a drink for three hours while she waited for someone to show up and introduce her into a world that frightened her. And excited her, she admitted. There was something visceral and pure in hiring someone like Bjorn. (That's what he'd insisted she call him. Just Bjorn.) Hiring a killer was so primitive and so simple, all wrapped up in modern business language of contracts and targets and clients. Disturbing how easy it had been in the end, to get so much power over another person's life.
    But that was then. This was now. She was waiting for him to come back, and her hand was sweaty on the gun that she had inside the pocket of her overstuffed coat. Cold. She was always cold these days.
    She paced up and down the alley they'd chosen for the final payout. Did Bjorn suspect anything? She didn't think he could. After all, why would a little woman like Vera try anything with a big, dangerous man like Bjorn Baernson? She was fluff, she was nothing, or at least that's what she'd tried to be every time she'd talked to the man. No reason to tip her hand, to let him know that, assuming he succeeded, the hit-man had to die.
    That was him, the big shadow walking into the street light with a flash of blonde hair, then out again. That was him. He looked sad. Did killers look sad? It didn't seem right. Maybe he did think something was up--but how could he? She should pull out. No. She'd planned all this for too long. She couldn't pull out. There wouldn't be another chance like this. All the money they'd put into this, all the bribes, the searching, the guessing just right that Forgotten Zed would be the next target: an opportunity like this might not present itself for another hundred years or more, and she'd be long dead by then. This had to happen now. Vera tightened her grip on the handgun and forced her body to stand still.
    Bjorn loomed up next to her. That was probably the only way he could go anywhere, looming to the bathroom, looming to the library, looming to his daughter's birthday party. Oh no. Don't think of him that way. Don't give the man a family. He was a killer, and, for all he knew, he'd just killed an innocent woman. He didn't deserve Vera's pity. He deserved what he was going to get.
    "Vera," he said in his faintly nordic accent.
    "Bjorn."
    "It's done."
    She swallowed, her hand tense in her coat. Vera wondered if she'd ever felt this much adrenaline. She tried to keep her voice from shaking. Did she ask about how it happened? Should she show any curiosity? She didn't want to. She didn't have any interest in knowing, even though she had no illusions about who had caused the death of Veronica Sweeps. She also had no doubts about what Miss Sweeps had intended to do with the power she'd collected--the power of a god. And now that power was inside the man in front of her, and Vera needed it. She had to have it.
    "You probably want to be paid now, like we agreed."
    "I don't."
    "Good. Wait. What?"
    "I don't want to be paid, Vera. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
    "Maybe. Sure."
    "What do you have in your pocket?"
    Vera swallowed. Did she draw and fire? Did she just shoot through the coat? In an instant the decision was taken away from her as the giant of a man stepped to her side and grabbed her arm. She struggled for a moment then stopped, letting him pull her hand out of her pocket. There was no point in resisting, not a man that size. She was a sparrow, he was a mountain, and there was no question about who would win that fight.
    "I thought as much," said Bjorn, smiling. He was even laughing. "I knew I liked you, Vera. So much spunk in you, though you tried to hide it. Oh yes, I knew you were up to something from the moment we first met, though I wasn't completely sure what it was. Now I know. You intend to kill me?"
    Vera found herself nodding. She was going to die. Might as well be honest. "I have to."
    "You have to? Interesting. Quite the determination you have. May I ask why you couldn't simply kill the woman you sent me after yourself? Clearly you have the courage for it."
    Vera swallowed, her arm still swallowed up in the large man's fist, the gun worthless in her hand. "It would be too easy to track me."
    "So you needed an expendable middle-man. Is the gun registered to you?"
    "No."
    "Then how could they track you?"
    "It's complicated."
    "Does it have anything to do with the strange feelings that I am having? This something new inside of me?"
    She nodded.
    "I thought it might. Do you know what's happening to me?"
    She nodded again.
    "Could it cure cancer?"
    Vera found herself at even more of a loss for words than she'd been the moment before. "Excuse me?"
    "How old do you think I am, Vera?"
    "I don't know. Fifty-something?"
    "Bless you. I'm sixty-five."
    "You don't look it."
    "No, I don't. I've always been healthy, always looked young for my age. Fit as a lion and twice as dangerous." He laughed, his face very amused. "I think it has something to do with my great-grandmother. She was a demon, you know."
    "I didn't."
    "Oh yes. At least that's the story. And so I've lived to this wonderful age through some of the most violent battles of our times. When the militaries stopped wanting me, I got other jobs. Not the kind of work you tell your mother about, but you already knew that, didn't you. I see on your face that you're confused. The point of this story, Vera, is that no gun, knife, or bomb ever came close to killing me. And now, after all that, I'm about to be killed by myself. My own cells, grown out of control. Bone cancer."
    Vera swallowed again, her mouth dry. "I've heard that's a painful way to go. I'm sorry."
    "It's fine. I don't mind. In fact, when the doctor told me the cancer was incurable, I already knew that it wouldn't be cancer that killed me. I would never let it go that long. I prefer action. But I have a daughter."
    "Oh," said Vera. She thought she could see where this was going.
    Bjorn was nodding. "Yes. I want to take care of her. Give her something before I go. So when I heard about this job, and what you were offering, I took it. Enough to take care of my girl, or at least for a solid downpayment on a place of her own. I want her to have the money. Could you do that for me? Unless, of course, whatever I have going through me could cure this cancer. In that case, I'd prefer to have the money, though," and the big man shifted, a look of pain flashing across his face, "it certainly doesn't feel comfortable."
    What should she say? The power of a god--could it cure the cancer? She had no doubt that it could, but...she needed that power! She was so close. Couldn't she lie to this man now, to this admitted murderer? It was just one more thing, one more small price to pay. She'd do it. Vera opened her mouth, then hesitated.
    "Your great-grandmother was a demon?"
    "That's the family story."
    "Oh. No, then. I don't think this power can cure you. I'm afraid it runs almost opposite to your genetics. In fact, the power is probably making it worse."
    Bjorn grimaced, then smiled. "That I would believe. You were about to lie to me, weren't you?"
    "I was."
    "Tell me it couldn't help me, though you thought it could."
    "Yes."
    "But you're telling the truth now?"
    "I think so."
    "I thought that might be the case. Ah well." He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Here's my daughter's address. She's living in her mother's basement. Could you get the money to her? Not to the mother. Make sure of that. Not a bad woman, but I don't feel any need to provide for her. Understand?"
    Vera nodded, taking the paper in her empty hand and putting it in her pocket.
    "One final question, Mrs. Mason."
    "Yes?"
    "Is it important that you be the person who kills me?"
    "I think so."
    "Understood. In that case, it was a pleasure working with you. I have always admired determined women, and you are no exception. If I were thirty years younger and one-hundred pounds lighter, we might have had something. Make certain to leave here quickly. Goodbye, Vera."
    Before she could react, Bjorn had bent down, pulling her hand up next to his head. She involuntarily jerked away, but his grip was solid, and his other hand closed around hers, pushing back on her fingers, pulling the trigger. The bark of the pistol made her jerk again, and she let out a small whimper as the large man slumped to the ground. She was shaking. She was crying. She wanted to scream. Why had he done that? She knew why, but why? He was a murderer, a bad man. He loved his daughter. He was a good man. Vera didn't know what to think.
    Shouting from somewhere nearby shocked her into action. The gun went back into her coat and she started walking, quickly, on her someplace, though she couldn't think where. Even as she walked, she could already feel the power flowing into her, making her tears sparkle as they rolled down her cheeks--or perhaps she only imagined that.
    Vera was truly trembling now. She hadn't eaten all day and she needed food. There, across the street, was a restaurant. She couldn't even tell what kind of food they served, though it smelled good enough. Food, then she was gone. She glanced around as she walked by a garbage can. She'd worn gloves, so she wasn't worried about prints, so, when she thought no one was looking, the gun went into the garbage. She covered it with a fast food bag and jogged across the street through a break in traffic. Someone was on the way out of the restaurant and held the door for her as she went into Thai for First.