Whispers

Targets

Lucius waited across the street from BlackwoodHigh's two-story brick building for his current charge to arrive. After he'dplanted the suggestion in Tommy's head, he’d teleported from the boy’s room towhere he currently stood. He had his hands crossed, his legs apart—a silentsentinel observing the life flowing and ebbing in front of him. He breathed inthe crisp morning air. Fall was creeping up on them. The leaves would changeand the sunlight would take on the golden quality Lucius loved most.

The bloody nature ofhis job forced him to appreciate the small things: Nature, a good book, foreignfilms. Little things humans took for granted on a daily basis. Even the act ofbreathing went unnoticed. His lower lip jutted out. That was why he had a job.Those who didn’t appreciate their lives gave credence to the whisperers.

Theparking lot was almost filled to capacity with every pick-up, SUV, and smartcar that arrived. Half the student population owned a ride while the rest tookthe bus. Blackwood wasn’t a particularly rich town, but it certainly heldwithin its boundaries a collection of rich people. The only high school withits large parking lot proved that. The nearest private school was two townsover. None of the rich kids wanted to drive five hours one way just to attendschool. Their parents agreed. Short of uprooting their entire family, BlackwoodHigh provided the educational needs of their children.

Hesquinted as the head cheerleader stepped out of her cherry red convertible. Shewas a walking cliché: Blonde, cheerleading outfit, ponytail, white sneakers,perfect make-up, and fake smile. She ruled the school along with hercaptain-of-the-lacrosse-team boyfriend. They already campaigned for Prom Kingand Queen this early into the school year.

Besideher hovered a being in white, watching over her. Dee must have sent a whispererto the cheerleader, but the suggestion must not have stuck. Hence the redeemer,the whisperer counterpart sent to coax potential suicides back from the brink.That was a potential soul lost.

Lucius tsked.Personally, he didn’t hate redeemers. There was room for everyone. They keptthe balance and added spice to an otherwise unnecessarily cruel job.

A gaggle ofsimilarly dressed girls surrounded their queen. They all looked alike to him.Years may pass, but the teen clicks and clichés never changed either. Theoutcasts huddled in a corner, in their mismatched clothes or dark ensembles,whispering to each other like a witch’s coven casting curses on the bright onesthey discreetly stared and pointed at. For once, Lucius wanted to arrive at aschool where all students stood equally. Where no one was bullied. Whereeveryone was judged based on their character and not their preferences.

Aprickle of energy had Lucius turning to his left.

Desmond grinned as he materialized beside Lucius. His white teethwere a startling contrast to his café mocha skin. His chocolate eyes sparkledwith mischief. Lucius reached out to his best friend. Desmond shook his handbefore stuffing both of his into the front pockets of his dark wash jeans. Noone wore a distressed leather jacket the way Desmond did. It was like the stylewas made for his body. Confidence leveled his linebacker shoulders. Luciuspreferred jeans and a T-shirt. Simple. Understated. No fuss. Unlike Desmond whoseemed to have stepped out of the pages of some magazine. If he were human,he’d be part of the popular crowd. Or maybe the school rebel without a cause.He certainly dressed the part.

“You’re up early,”Lucius said, tucking his hand back into the crook of his arm. Desmond preferredthe afternoon hours more than the morning ones, complaining often that themorning sun didn’t compliment his skin tone. Not that Lucius found it odd sincehe was a night owl too.

“Speak for yourself,”Desmond replied in a honey-coated Southern accent. “I came from a differenttime zone, what’s your excuse?”

Since Desmond wasn’t human, Lucius didn’tunderstand why he spoke with an accent. He certainly didn’t need to, butDesmond explained to him once that it set him apart. Lucius accepted the reasonwithout argument. If his best friend wanted a Southern drawl to roll off histongue then he wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.

“Early morningassignment. I haven’t even hit a pillow yet.” Lucius winced. He barely stayedawake on his legs. He promised himself a couple of hours of sleep when this wasall over. He certainly deserved it if everything went as planned, and his plansnever went awry.

“Only for the bestwhisperer in the business. They’re really working you hard, huh?”

“Like a mulepulling a cart of rocks up a hill.”

Lucius couldn’t read the emotion thatcame with Desmond’s grin. The problem was . . . Desmond always had a grin onhis face, which often confused the hell out of him. The only time his bestfriend lost that grin was when he’d been given a mass suicide assignment—a cultformed by a deranged leader.

It wouldn’t have been hard if it weren’tfor the children. To Lucius’ knowledge, Desmond detested witnessing the livesof young children snuffed out. Teens and adults, he had no problem with. Heeven relished being a whisperer. But to watch mothers kill their childrenbefore killing themselves irked him. He hadn’t accepted an assignment involvingchildren since, which affected his rank severely. Not to mention his nomad wayof living. He refused to be assigned to a place for longer than a month. Hesaid it was the gypsy in him. Right, Lucius huffed, a southern-accented gypsysuicide whisperer.

“So, why are we here if you’ve whisperedthis morning? Shouldn’t you be writing the report for it right about now?”

“Where’ve youbeen?” Lucius changed the subject, not ready to address what was about tohappen. He liked to show rather than tell.

“Germany.” Desmondshrugged like he didn’t care, but Lucius knew better. “I was given geriatricpatrol . . . again.”

“You refusedanother assignment, didn’t you?”

A scowl replacedthe grin. Desmond kept his gaze on the students making their way into thebuilding for the start of the school day and the handful of redeemers scatteredamong them.

“It involved a mother in Wisconsindriving her car into a lake with her three kids in the trunk.” He shivered. “Idon’t know how you do it, but I can’t deal with that s**t. I love my job, don’tget me wrong, but I can’t stand seeing children suffer.”

Lucius grippedDesmond’s shoulder in sympathy. Not everyone could see beyond the age of theassignment through to the bigger picture like he could. Souls were souls weresouls. They were the source of residual energy that powered them all.

“Why do you think I stick to teenagers asmuch as possible?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Yet, to myknowledge, you’ve never refused an assignment.” The grin had returned. “You’rea sadistic bastard.”

In response to thetaunt, Lucius sent a burst of energy through his palm into Desmond’s shoulder,causing him to yelp and jump away.

“You don’t have toget violent with me, bud.” Desmond returned to Lucius’ side, rubbing hisshoulder. “Just saying out loud what no one else would. They worship you forit. And besides, give a guy a break, I’m still jetlagged.”

Lucius had to smirkat that. A whisperer jetlagged? The things that came out of Desmond’s mouth.Sometimes he thought Desmond fancied himself human. He fished out his aviatorsfrom the breast pocket of his bomber jacket and put it on just as the minivanhe’d been waiting for pulled into the driveway.

“It’s show time,”he said.

“What does thatmean?” Desmond looked from Lucius to the boy who stepped out of the passengerside of the minivan without acknowledging the well wishes of his mother.

Lucius stepped awayfrom the sidewalk to follow Tommy into the building. He liked the look ofsolemn determination on the boy’s face. It mimicked the faces of those who’vemade up their minds. Nothing could stop him. Nothing. Once a whispering wascompleted, the act suggested would be accomplished, no matter the kind ofintervention. A close by redeemer eyed them, sadness blatant in her expression.She knew there was nothing she could do at this point.

Once a woman had walked into her daughterbefore she’d bled out and managed to bring her to the hospital. But after thepsych evaluations, and the girl was sent home, she had pulled a knife from thekitchen and reopened her stitches. That time mom wasn’t there to save her baby.

“Lucius? What did you do?” Desmondscrabbled to catch up until they walked side by side. “The redeemers are alllooking our way. Lucius?”

Two whisperers together radiated enoughenergy that humans naturally moved away from them without really knowing why.Lucius and Desmond many not be seen, but it was as if an invisible hand partedthe crowd for them. No one bumped into them as they trailed Tommy into thebuilding.

Desmond held open the door for Lucius andgestured for him to enter. Lucius gave him a two-fingered salute and a halfsmile as he stepped in after Tommy, who clutched the strap of his backpack likea lifeline. He was nervous. Lucius could smell his sweat from a meter away. Itwas normal. Natural for what he was about to do. Tommy wasn’t a hardenedcriminal. He still considered the ramifications of his coming actions. Even so,the years of abuse he’d suffered trumped his conscience.

According to his file, he usually stoppedby his locker before the first period, but that morning was different. He keptwalking until he reached homeroom. Lucius took his position at the head of theclass where he leaned against the blackboard. Desmond squatted beside him,knuckles touching the floor like an ape.

“What is this all about?”

Lucius ignored Desmond’s question. He sawno point in answering. The lack of redeemers in the room spoke volumes. Therewould be no interference. Fates had been sealed.

It wouldn’t be long. If he’d decided toindulge Desmond and explain everything would take place even before he’d finishrecounting his whispering. So, he waited for Tommy to act out hisinstructions.

“Hey, Stumpy Humphrey!” Nick greeted witha sneer. The boy beside him, most likely his sidekick, crumpled a piece ofpaper and threw it at Tommy, which hit him in the head.

Tommy ignored the taunt and went to hischair.

As if unsatisfied by the greeting, Nickseparated himself from his cheerleader girlfriend and approached Tommy. Hissidekick and a couple of other boys flanked him on each side. When they reachedTommy, they surrounded him.

“Hey, Virgin Boy.” Nick nudged Tommyuntil he slammed into the boy behind him.

A game of Pass the Tommy ensued, witheach boy pushing Tommy around like a punching bag. Nick ended the game bysocking Tommy in the gut.

“You know I don’t like starting my daywithout hitting you,” Nick said while Tommy was doubled over.

Nick’s sidekick grabbed a clump ofTommy’s hair and pulled until he was forced to look up. “Look at him when he’stalking to you, Stumpy, or we might have to have a private meeting afterschool.”

Tommy smiled as he met Nick’s gaze.

Nick’s brows came together. “What are yousmiling at?” He slapped Tommy so hard his head whipped to the side.

A trickle of blood escaped the corner ofTommy’s lips. This time his smile showed red teeth. The boys took a step back,surprise on their faces. Lucius crossed his arms, expression grim. Desmondlooked up at him and c****d an eyebrow.

“Just keep watching, Des,” Lucius said.His aviators hid his eyes from his friend well.

“I don’t think I like where this isgoing, bud,” Desmond grumbled.

“You’re a suicide whisperer. Grow a pairand act like it.”

Nick laughed after he had finallygathered his wits about him. “You think you’re a tough guy now, huh? Smiling atus like a crazy person doesn’t scare us, Stumpy.”

The three other boys laughed with him.And pretty soon, the ten other students in class laughed too. The first bellhadn’t rung yet. The room wasn’t filled to capacity. Even so, the taunting andlaughter continued. Tommy’s smile never left his face as he unzipped hisbackpack and reached inside.

He pulled out his father’s handgun.

At first, no one noticed what Tommy heldin his hand, too busy talking among themselves and laughing. It was only when aloud bang reverberated within the room, and Nick fell to the floor with ableeding wound on his chest, did the screams begin.

Tommy didn’t waste time. He popped fourmore shoots in rapid succession, getting each of Nick’s cohorts and a girl whohappened to be standing close by. Each of them went down. Chaos reigned aroundTommy as he turned in a slow circle, still shooting at anyone and anything thebarrel of his gun pointed at. He hit Nick’s hysterical girlfriend between theshoulder blades as she attempted to run out of the room, sending her sprawlingface first.

A few students managed to make it outinto the hallway, which was a river of panic and fear. Students and teachersran for the exit in droves. Some covered their heads while others clutched ateach other. The screams continued.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Tommy hit the blackboard twice, shattereda glass window, and nicked the last student who made a run for it in the shin,sending the kid stumbling and shrieking in pain. He was half in half out of theclassroom, clutching his leg, shaking uncontrollably.

In the melee, Lucius and Desmond remainedcalm, stoic. They were safe from the barrage of bullets.

Tommy laughed like a maniac. He tiltedhis head back, blood dripping from his chin. He inhaled deeply and lookedaround. Eight bodies lay motionless on the floor. He checked the chamber and,with one bullet left, lifted the gun to his head and fired without hesitation.

Desmond was up and facing Lucius instunned silence the moment Tommy’s body crumpled to the floor, blood from histemple joining the stream coming from his lips. Lucius nodded once and left theroom, stepping over the wounded boy who’d gone into shook as he went. He lethis arms hang at his sides. Desmond ran after him and grabbed his shoulder,twisting him around until they faced each other. Students continued to run outof the building around them. Sirens cried in the distance.

“I don’t know whether I should behorrified or impressed,” Desmond said, slack-jawed.

Lucius removed his aviators and pretendedto clean them using the hem of his shirt just to give his shaking handssomething to do.

“You don’t need to be either,” heanswered, his tone unchanging. “I was just doing my job.”

“But you were only supposed to whisper tothat boy, not have him commit mass murder!”

“Is that indignation I hear?” Lucius metDesmond’s gaze head on.

His friend took a step backinvoluntarily.

Disturbed by the reaction, Luciusreplaced his aviators. He didn’t know what Desmond saw and he didn’t want toknow. That’s why he always worked alone. His methods weren’t always PC withwhisperers like Desmond who fancied themselves sympathetic to the humancondition.

Sympathy had no place within a suicidewhisperer. By virtue of their name, they whispered words of encouragement toanyone who thought of killing themselves. Lucius and his colleagues were thefinal push humans needed to commit their lives to death. They were the voiceinside someone’s head that gave permission to end living.

Speaking of voices, the ones in Lucius’shead screamed in agony at what he’d done. It took all of his willpower not tomassage his forehead. He needed rest, he reminded himself. The voices had nopower over him, and when he reached the oblivion sleep provided, they wouldshut up, even for just a couple of hours.

“How could you?” Desmond gestured at theroom where nine lives were lost.

Lucius shrugged. “I figured I’d rid thisschool of a couple of bullies. Now no one would think of raising a hand orsaying anything nasty about a classmate. Now Blackwood High is free from thetyranny of others. Those who survived will remember this day and realize theiractions have consequences. No one will be driven to suicide because of tormentever again. Well, at least, for the next ten or so years. I can’t say forcertain beyond that.”

Desmond paled. “You really believe youdid the right thing, don’t you?” He covered his mouth and looked like he wasabout to lose the contents of his stomach. Then he dropped his hand and took adeep breath, letting it out slowly. “That’s why they call you the best.” Colorreturned to his cheeks before he disappeared.

Desmond’s last words, spoken in disgustrather than awe, planted Lucius where he stood, staring at a distant point downthe hallway. Books, pieces of paper and bags littered the floor. Every otherlocker left open. Classrooms abandoned.

Seconds later, three police officers ranpast him, guns drawn. Two entered Tommy’s classroom while the third spoke intoa walkie-talkie strapped to his shoulder. EMTs soon followed, rolling a gurneypast Lucius. The squeaks of the wheels woke him from the daze he’d been insince Desmond had left. He watched the EMTs help the wounded boy, askingquestions, making sure he stayed with them. One passed a lit penlight over theboy’s eyes. The expression on his face was glazed, empty.

Hollowness grew within Lucius. It startedin his chest and spread through him like a black hole in space, devouringanything and everything it came into contact with. Fatigue—the villain he’dbeen fighting against all morning—hung on his shoulders. He could barely keephis eyes open. He blinked slowly several times, searching for his train ofthought. Apparently, it had left the station several minutes ago. He couldn’trecall what he had to do next.

Lucius gave in to the temptation of kneadinghis eyelids behind his aviators as the police officer who’d called for the EMTsnow called for a coroner. Nine body bags.

A slight pulse had begun to throb rightin the middle of Lucius’ forehead, caused by the riot of voices. A pillow. Hewanted a pillow. And silk sheets. Better yet, his own bed—a four poster kingwith heavy velvet curtains that blocked out the sun.

Master. Shamus’ voice echoed in his head, interrupting his plans.

Whatis it? he answered telepathically.

Iapologize for the intrusion, but you are needed.

Lucius closed his eyes, and when heopened them again, he stood in the foyer of his home. Shamus waited for him bythe floral centerpiece on a marble table with iron legs. He greeted Lucius witha profound frown perfected after centuries of practice.

“What is it?” he asked.

Shamus remained silent.

“Shamus, I’m tired. I don’t have the timeor the patience. I would prefer that you cut to the chase so I can write thereport for today and get some sleep before escorting the souls to theCrossroads.”

A black envelope with silver calligraphyappeared. It floated above his open palm. “From your surprised expression, Itake it you had forgotten what day it is.”

Lucius reconstructed a formidable façadeon the outside. Inside, however, he mentally chided himself for forgetting.“Have my study ready for when I return. I want to write today’s report and handit in before the next set of assignments come in.”

Shamus’ smoky eyebrows came together. “And the soulstaken today, sir?”

“Have them gathered in the basement. I’ll escort themfor processing when I return.”

“It would be prudent to rest first afterthe gathering,” his caretaker offered.

“Where is this worry coming from? It ismost unlike you.” Lucius stood tall, shoulders squared. “Shall I put in arequest for a change of caretaker?”

Shaking his head like a child about to bewhipped, Shamus said, “No, sir. Please, sir.”

“See to it you keep your worries toyourself then. I can most certainly handle myself.”

“As you wish, master.”

Lucius made a fist and a scythematerialized. Its icy-blue transparent blade curved menacingly above his head.Its flat had holes varying in diameter from the largest at the base to thesmallest at the tip. Gripping the scythe’s smooth onyx staff, he tapped thefloor once with the metal stud attached to the end of the shaft.

A death bell tolled low and deep—solemnand desolate. The kind heard at the end of a service as a casket exits achurch, held on all sides by somber pallbearers. Black flames burned away hisclothing, replacing them with a dark suit, a silk shirt, a pencil tie, andleather dress shoes.

Elevator doors rose from the floor infront of him. They dinged open, and he stepped through.