Mercy by Rhiannon Paille Page A

tenant’s smoking habits. They tried to repaint, but the yellowish tinge leaked through. Flecks of white dotted the baseboards, some quick attempt to fix the place before the sale. Elwen didn’t care for the flat. He took the first room on the right, making it an office with a futon while Krishani took the one across from the bathroom. It resembled an infirmary.
    In nine years Elwen hadn’t thought about his decision to take Krishani in and give him shelter from the horror he faced for most of his long existence. He regretted too many of his decisions to spread them all out in his mind, ticking off each one with a mental pencil.
    The girl was unexpected.
    He distinctly felt nothing but an empty void towards her. He knew her for a fraction of a millisecond in his own infinite existence, the impression she made on him scant. She was a catalyst, a means to the end of the Ferryman. His fingers gripped the back of the couch tighter as he thought about his conversation with Tor. He said Krishani would be the best Ferryman. He’d push the darkness away from Terra and light would prevail. Back then people believed in all sorts of obscure prophecies and Elwen hung on every word.
    But the land was full of empty promises.
    Part of him wanted to believe Krishani was in there somewhere, amidst the hunger and wretchedness. He saw it in the eyes of the eight-year-old boy he kidnapped nine years ago.
    Desperation.
    Remorse.
    Helplessness.
    Krishani didn’t want to be a monster any more than he wanted to be a hero. He was just a boy in need of a normal life. Elwen gave him that, even if it came with every medical procedure known to man and every drug they’d ever created. Krishani had a high pain tolerance, and an immunity complex. What Krishani took now would kill most people, but unfortunately, they’d reached the end of their rope. There was nothing stronger on Earth, and they couldn’t go to Avristar.
    Elwen sighed and rounded the island in the kitchen, the kettle steaming. He pushed the tin lid off the box and pulled out a tea bag, dropping it in a mug and following it with a splash of scalding water and milk. He pulled a spoon out of a drawer and stirred, sitting on one of the three stools on the other side of the island. A stack of paperwork rested on the end of the island, awaiting his signature. It was enough for them to live in Canada for a period of time. Elwen had diplomatic immunity, another perk of being immortal and knowing how to forge documents like a pro. Krishani had an official birth certificate, UK driver’s license, and passport. Nobody would think of him as anyone but Tom Norton’s son.
    The bathroom door opened and closed, followed by the bedroom door opening and slamming shut. Elwen sighed and sipped his tea, grabbing the stack of papers and a pen from the end table beside the stainless steel fridge. Elwen could handle the small details if Krishani could handle the bigger problems, like the girl that could kill them all.
    O O O
    Tor pulled into the gravel parking lot at Big John’s and stopped in front of a railroad tie. He turned off the engine to the Tempo, and pulled the emergency brake, cutting off a Billy Idol song. He hadn’t changed the cassette in twelve years, not since landing in a hospital in Lake of the Woods and giving Kaliel a normal human life. He threw an apron on over his jeans and muscle shirt, still as burly as ever and stalked around to the back of the diner. Charlie, the kitchen manager, stood by the corral, power washing the patch of pavement John had installed last year to bring the place up to code.
    It was the crack of dawn, the sun sending a mist of light through the tall evergreens surrounding the restaurant. Tor smiled. Charlie was a good guy for a human. He was built like a fridge, and belonged in Jamaica. Over six feet tall, long black and brown dreadlocks hanging to his waist. He wore restaurant scrubs, black slacks, the white apron folded and tied around his waist, a V-neck