Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 70 ( Chapter 70 )

Special Note from GuiltyRed:

 

The countdown is on. “Coming Home” is almost current at my livejournal (guiltyred underscore fics), and that will signal the end of public-site postings for this story. My livejournal is open to everyone, I hope you all come to read it in its natural state and I hope you stay along for the remainder of the ride. There will be one, possibly two more chapters posted here after this one. I apologize again for any inconvenience, and if you have trouble getting to my livejournal, email me (available through my profile here) and I will work something out with you.

 

Thank you,

 

GR

 

 

 

70

 

I've heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord

 

April slid into the past with no sign of our teammates.

 

Nagi and I had driven, hitchhiked, and trudged our way across Europe, searching for them at every turn. Sometimes we'd found hunters searching for us; at those times we crept with pounding hearts beneath their notice, and ran. Without Brad's guidance, I couldn't remember what safety felt like anymore.

 

I'd managed to keep us supplied with food and disguise stuff, though the nutritional value of the one and the effectiveness of the other were in serious doubt. Nagi was barely eating, again. He seemed to subsist on air, water, and granola bars, in that order. It amazed me how inconvenient convenience foods really could be - anything more substantial was hard to carry, or didn't last in a summer-heated backpack.

 

Now we both looked like eccentric art students or something, with shabby haircuts and fading dye jobs and that lean, hungry look only classic poets and modern models seem to have.

 

The noise and crowd of the London train station gave us a sense of cover, though I was beginning to suspect that any hunters wouldn't give a damn if there were witnesses. Just because they hadn't acted in front of normals didn't mean jack at this point. They could always change their method, and clean up the mess after the fact. After all, they'd been on the job for over a year now. They were sure to be getting a little anxious.

 

I leaned back against the cold metal seat and sighed, my abused hair spilling over my shoulders in a ginger tangle. It occurred to me that I should really color it again, but I was beginning to worry that the damn stuff would start falling out from spite if I dared. It was easier than wondering where to go next.

 

An old man with a cane hobbled over and parked himself next to me. “Ah, the vanity of youth,” he murmured with a sidelong glance at me. His voice sounded quite young, and black coffee eyes gleamed from beneath fluffy white eyebrows.

 

::Brad?!?:: I stared, then remembered my cover and glanced down at the floor. ::What the hell, you sneaking up on me like that!::

 

::And here I thought you'd be happy to see me.::

 

::In case you hadn't noticed, Brad, I haven't seen you yet, I've only seen your disguise, which is disturbingly convincing, by the way.::

 

Brad looked at his watch. He moved slowly and held his fingers at an awkward angle, like an old man with arthritis. Even his hands and wrists bore makeup, giving his skin a papery texture decorated with liver spots and fake white hair. ::Get on your train, get your tickets stamped, then sneak off and meet me in the north parking lot. I'll wait there twelve minutes. You'd best hurry.::

 

Without answering the baffled look on Nagi's face, I told the kid to follow me and led him toward the platform. We did as Brad instructed, leaving the tickets onboard for good measure.

 

In the north parking lot, a gray sedan pulled up to the curb.

 

Brad was alone in the car.

 

::Schuldig, where's Far?:: Nagi asked, balking.

 

::Brad, is everything all right? Where's Farfarello?::

 

::Get in and I'll tell you all about it.::

 

I opened the back door for Nagi, then slid into the front seat. Brad sped off, heading for the main thoroughfare.

 

“Farfarello decided that he had some business to attend to,” Brad stated, his tone calm but urgent. “I can't bring him back alone, I tried that already. That's why I didn't meet with you in late April, as I'd foreseen. Things changed, which, with Farfarello, is almost a given.”

 

“So, where is he?” I asked, not sure if I should be amused or alarmed by this turn of events.

 

Brad spared me a quick glance. “He's headed for Ireland.”

 

“Oh, holy fuck.”

 

“That's about the size of it,” Brad replied, driving like a stuntman. A precognitive stuntman who knew how to avoid traffic and the police. “Last I knew he was on foot. That gives us a little time, but not much.”

 

Leave it to Farfarello to turn a simple thing like running from Esset into a bona fide adventure.

 

We sped toward a private airstrip in the north of England, then Brad veered the car and aimed west. He followed his internal map while Nagi and I wondered if we were going to find our mad teammate in time to prevent disaster.

 

It didn't surprise me that Far had gotten away from Brad like that, or that Brad had such a good fix on his current whereabouts. Of all the team, the Irishman had always been the easiest one for Brad to track with his gift. Nagi, being like a son to him, was just too close, and so, apparently, was I.

 

“There!” Brad pointed out his window.

 

Farfarello sat in the crook of a massive oak tree, gazing down the hill below. Cautiously I reached out to his thoughts. I saw a humble churchyard in the valley, overlaid with images of dozens of other churchyards both real and imagined. The overriding feeling was one of calm, which was not necessarily a good sign.

 

As always, Far noticed my mind-touch. ::Konnichiwa,:: he sent, his mental accent flawless. ::You're here to stop me, I suppose.:: He did not look at the car.

 

::Do I need to?:: I asked as Brad parked beside the tree; he left the engine running. I checked my gun before getting out of the vehicle. ::What are you planning to do here?::

 

::Vespers. I wanted to listen to the bells.::

 

::Mind if we listen with you?:: I looked up at him, perched in the tree. He had that loose-limbed calm about him that spoke of murder.

 

“God's music is free,” he whispered.

 

I knew that Brad had palmed one of the hypos out of a no-doubt dwindling supply, and I had the brief, absurd image of a wildlife show where a darted bear topples out of its tree in a boneless heap.

 

Whether he picked it up from me or merely knew, Far whispered, “I don't want a nap, Crawford, but thanks for thinking of me.”

 

“Farfarello,” Nagi called softly, his voice almost trembling, “please come down.”

 

I stared at the kid. Nagi had never gotten directly involved before, certainly never invited Far's attention when the Irishman was in one of “those” moods. This was an interesting turn of events; I couldn't tell if Brad had expected it or not.

 

Far, at least, seemed just as surprised as I was. He looked down at our young teammate and frowned thoughtfully. “Why?”

 

Nagi stood his ground, staring up at the mad Irishman. “Because we can't stay here, and we won't leave you behind. We have to go.”

 

Farfarello seemed to consider this, running it through whatever logic algorithm he had in his head at the moment. He regarded Nagi with a curious half-smile that made his scarred face look much younger. With the grace of a leopard he dropped to the grass and half-knelt before Nagi, head bowed. “As you wish,” he murmured.

 

Before I could sort out what had just happened, Brad had opened the car doors nearest us then strode around to the other side. “Nagi, front seat,” Brad ordered. “Schuldig, drive.”

 

We got into the car as directed, Far not even bothering to look back at the church.

 

 

A/N:

I've heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord

 

The song is “Hallelujah”, sung by Rufus Wainright on the Shrek soundtrack. Through a religious reference at the start, it goes on to tell a tale of tragedy and heartache, a tale the good men of Schwarz no doubt know firsthand.

 

And we get to see a return of Brad Crawford, Chameleon. This is the man who turned the hunt on its ear, and with good reason. He knows what they're looking for, and manages to not be it.