Chapter Nine
Hate
"Wow."
I focused on Marshal at the statement. He had climbed the fence that encircled the perimeter of a large field. Now he sat on the top rail surveying all there was to see, which included chocobos in a far field, at least an acre of wild flowers, and a large stretch of meadowland. The meadowland lay between the wild flowers and the chocobo field and happened to be the prospective site for the proposed Garden.
"Dincht said Winhill ranked high in the country-factor, but I didn't imagine this. Man!" Marshal met my gaze. "Dincht's trying to grab a place up here. I don't know what he'll do if the plans fall through." He shrugged and looked back to the chocobos. "Maybe he'll do it anyway, what with what I think is going on between him and Sally."
I raised an eyebrow as I looked back to the field, but I didn't comment. The growing connection/attraction between Zell and Sally over the past few months had been grotesquely obvious. In fact, Zell's visits to the security section were annoying. But they didn't seem to hinder Sally's work, and that was the only reason I didn't report her to Seifer. In my opinion, personal visits to the security section should have been banned or severely restricted.
"I wonder when they're going to send invites for the party? I hope I'm going to get one. Dincht said it's going to be a restricted list, but Sally and I go a ways back. Say, I could bring you if I get the invite."
Parties didn't interest me. They never had. They never would. "No. Thank you."
Marshal faced me. "What do you mean? Sally's turning the big 2-0. It's going to be a big deal: dancing, loud music, great food. You should come."
"Why?" We had been walking around the fields and properties for 30 minutes without mishap or accidental--or not-so-accidental--meetings with the landowners. And we had made sure that the clerk in the inn knew of our intent to buy.
"Why? Because it's a party! A great way to relax."
I nearly scoffed.
"Come on, Ahndra. It should be fun. Just come for, say, an hour or so. Then I'll take you home. Swear."
I crossed my arms and squinted into the distance. 'Come on, Ahndra. It's just a meteor shower. It'll be fun to watch. I'll take you home after. Swear.' I balled my hands into fists as I frowned. But the guy hadn't wanted to watch the sky. Jocks. They always try the hardest score. This time I did scoff.
Marshal chuckled. "Ahndra, damn. I'm more fun than you think."
I met his amused gaze and looked away again. "I'll pass."
"Will you at least think about it first? I really--" I sent him a glare. He raised his hands. "Okay. Okay. 'No' means 'No' and not 'Maybe'. Got it." Marshal pushed himself off the fence to land on the other side. "Come on. Let's trudge around a bit and see if we can attract some attention."
I began climbing the fence. Marshal immediately stepped up, reaching out to 'spot' me as I climbed up one side and sat on the top rail as he had done. "Stop," I protested as I sent him a glare.
"And risk you breaking your neck? Hell no!" He motioned with his fingers. "Jump. I'll catch you." I scoffed. "Ahndra, will you just--Here." He put his hands on my waist. I stared at him in shock. "Now put your hands on my shoulders."
Instead, I put my hands on his wrists and pushed his touch away. My skin hadn't crawled--"I can do it."
"I know, but we need to keep up appearances--" He met my annoyed gaze. "I know you know that. So we'll just do it this way." He smirked, and his silver eyes--"I'll let you jump off the next fence."
My eyebrow twitched, but I didn't resist his second gentle grip on my waist. I just clenched my jaw, put my hands on his shoulders, and let him help me down. Once my feet hit the ground, I immediately stepped back.
Marshal released my waist and offered forward a hand while asking "Where did you want to go first? Chocobos?"
I wiped my palm on my white denim shorts before accepting his hold. "Fine."
Marshal adjusted his hold on my hand to what seemed so light--I stepped forward. We had noticed a farmhouse of a sort near one of the back portions of the chocobo field.
"Ahndra," Marshal reminded quietly, "we've got plenty of time. Slow down." I pressed my lips together and adjusted my pace. "Oh." He pulled his handheld from the back pocket of his denim shorts. "I forgot to show you this." He brought the phone around so that I could see the display screen. "You might find this interesting. I know I did. Check out the version date on the video hardware in our room at the inn."
I took the handheld with my left hand and then met Marshal's gaze. "Old Garden technology. Three versions."
"At least." Marshal gestured to the handheld screen again. "Notice the info finally received on the tech in the apartment and on the schooner? Same, just audio."
I looked to the screen, reading the information and processing it. "Black market?"
"That's what I thought at first, too." He accepted the handheld back and slipped it into his pocket again. "I checked the serials and versions. None of these particular models were stolen. These were made during the first part of the battles with Galbadia five years ago. I wonder. . . ."
Marshal looked off into the distance, and his hand tightened slightly on mine. I watched his facial reaction with a tickle of intrigue and curiosity.
"What?" I allowed myself to ask.
He lowered his gaze to the greenery at our feet. "Just thinking about things I've heard at Galbadia Garden over the past three years." He sent me a sidelong glance. "Let me think about it some before I answer."
My eyebrow twitched, but I let him have his silence.
Marshal cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. "You want to have dinner at the inn's restaurant tonight? It comes with the room."
I frowned and looked away. Dinner. Candlelight. Dancing. I balled my free hand into a fist. What else would I need to go through for this mission?
"Just dinner, Ahndra. I swear. You're a shy bookworm, remember? You won't want a big deal."
Thank Hyne. "Fine."
Marshal regarded me with the expected depth and perception as before. It made me. . . nervous.
"You've known Seifer a long time."
My gaze sharply met his. "What?"
"I don't get why he put you into this. You're a damned good investigator, anybody will tell you that, and you've got to be one of the best interrogators. But undercover like this?" Marshal shook his head. "You'd be more comfortable in a military facility or in a war zone. Seifer damn well knows it."
I pressed my lips together and looked away. It didn't matter why I'd been assigned. I would do my job. I had to.
Marshal scrubbed at his neck again. Then he released a quick breath and looked over at me. "Ahndra, you're doing awesome--I didn't expect anything else--It's just, I don't know. I guess I thought Seifer would cut you some slack."
But Seifer wouldn't do that. He remembers who I was. Why do you think he pushes so hard? A hard life required a harder approach.
Marshal watched me, again with the intensity I didn't know whether to hate or respect. I pressed my lips together and focused ahead. "Ten years. More?" I slightly shrugged. He scrutinized me yet again. I squinted off toward the farmhouse. Seifer saved my ass. More than once. He's been saving my ass since I was eight, and he didn't even know. He kept me sane.
But it had come with a price. My life had affected Seifer's. Made him harder. Meaner. Tougher in a way a kid shouldn't be tough. It had turned both of us against people, causing us to look like rogues. Rebels. Hard asses. And through it all Seifer kept me sane; giving me something to hold on to; something to rely on. I hadn't ever had that before him.
My gaze lowered to the ground, and I stepped over a wildflower. Marshal held back. I lifted my focus back toward the farmhouse to notice a man standing outside looking our direction. I stopped and turned toward Marshal--I blinked. His ears reddened, but he didn't halt his approach. He presented me the wildflower previously ignored. He cleared his throat as I took it, still watching him with a curious expression.
"It'
s blue. You look good in blue." Marshal cleared his throat again and stepped past as I changed my focus to the flower. I heard his recognizable mutter of "Damn it, Marshal" and couldn't help but smirk.
But then, as I continued to stare down at the flower, my smirk melted away. I shifted the flower from one hand to the other and then back again, trying to reason what to do with it. I had never been given a flower before. I hadn't been given anything. I absently twirled the flower between my index finger and thumb as I looked to where it had once been. It would have been better if he hadn't picked it. What did I know about taking care of picked flowers? Now it would die, like everything else died, and no one else would see how pretty it once was.
Pretty.
My focus slowly switched to the simple flower. Two layers of light blue petals with a white center. It looked like something I had drawn once as a child. I used to like doing things like that--'Look at this mess! Damn it, Ahndra!' smack--
I dropped the flower without meaning to and blinked when Marshal bent to pick it up. He straightened and handed it to me again, but I couldn't take it. I didn't understand why, and I didn't want to understand why. I only recognized that I did not want the flower.
Or maybe I didn't want to want it?
"Hello there!"
We both turned to watch the approaching man. Marshal nodded. "Hiya!" Marshal looked over at me again before presenting the flower once more.
I couldn't keep my eyes from it. Then I pressed my lips together and reached forward to take it. I briefly met his gaze. "Thank you."
He only smiled and then focused his attention back on the man. But then something about Marshal's expression changed. His complexion seemed to go from yellow to red and then back. He stiffened as well, and his hands clenched. Instincts flared, screaming at me that something had happened that could potentially blow our cover.
I stepped toward the man. "Are we trespassing?"
The man shook his head. "No. This property isn't mine. I just came to see if you were lost." He motioned to Marshal. "He okay?"
"Bad breakfast. Excuse us. We need air." And then I turned and took hold of Marshal's arm to lead him away and toward the field of wildflowers. "What."
"Damn it," Marshal hissed.
He fought against my hold as if he wanted to turn back for the man, but I pulled him onward. "Not yet."
Marshal pulled harder against my hold, but I wouldn't let go. "Damn it, Ahndra," he said in a harsh whisper, "let go!"
I didn't even look at him. I had never heard this rage from Marshal before, but I had heard and experienced worse from my father. "No."
I had no idea how I could question him when any kind of argument would likely raise suspicion--I pressed my lips together and took a firm hold of his hand to pull him forward into a half-hearted run. Then I forced a smile and giggled--Oh Hyne--as I looked back at Marshal. A few moments later I purposefully stumbled and fell, taking Marshal down with me into the taller grass.
I kept him down with two hands pressed firmly against his chest as I lay close, looking down into his face. "What did you see?" I asked again, firmer this time. And then I sounded a giggle loud enough for the man to hear in case he still listened and watched.
Marshal raised his hands to cover his face, and he didn't volunteer anything.
I gasped out a "Blake!" in a tone I had heard Sally use with Zell and moved my hands to pull his away from his face--Tears trailed from his closed eyes. My mind went silent as I watched his face. I had never seen a man cry.
Marshal attempted to sit up, but I kept him down. Then I adjusted my position to kneel beside him with my hands still pressed against his chest. I continued to watch his face, muted shock my only reaction to his. "What," I pressed.
He again covered his eyes, but this time with a single hand. "Damn it, Ahndra," he roughly whispered. "He's one of the bastards that murdered my sister."
I blinked and then looked over my shoulder. I couldn't see anything through/over the grass. I focused my gaze back on Marshal. "Did you hear a name during the attack?"
Marshal slightly shook his head.
"Was he the leader?"
He shook his head again.
And I didn't recognize him from the pictures of those we had been sent here to investigate. I frowned, mind working. "Supplier of surveillance technology. . . . Why needed? Base of operations. . . for something not yet. . . known?" I arched an eyebrow and then reached behind Marshal to pull the handheld from his back pocket. "Blake, stop it," I protested loudly, and then promptly giggled. I sounded like Sally. Seifer, I'm going to kill you.
I brought up a secure satellite link to Seifer's security account and quickly typed an email. Marshal had lowered his hand from his eyes and just stared at the sky. I occasionally glanced his direction, intrigued by the tears and the clear expression of anguish and controlled rage. Hadn't I seen that on my own face often enough?
'Found possible cause for saboteur. Research Marshal Beita's record regarding rape and murder of sister for names and descriptions of involved parties. Cross-reference with dishonorable discharges from Galbadian military. Research and compare names, locations, and questionable activities with those reported near Deling and Trabia Gardens. Possible location of the sale of military arms found.'
I scrambled the message and sent it. Then I again reached behind Marshal to tuck the handheld away--His arms surrounded me. I gasped as I put my hands against his chest and firmly pushed. Images flashed as my insides twisted and knotted, threatening nausea as my eye throbbed. Marshal rolled me onto my back, his weight pressing me against the ground as he chuckled "Gotcha", but his expression was still pained as it pleaded--I looked slightly over Marshal's shoulder just as the top of a head began to come into view. I fought back the panic as I met Marshal's gaze.
The man from before cleared his throat. Marshal didn't look back. He only forced an abashed expression and quickly sat up as he released me, his gaze holding mine. It begged.
I sat up and rubbed my palms on my denim shorts as I met the man's gaze. "Yes?"
"I know I said this isn't my property, and it isn't, but I don't think the owner wants people hiking all over it without his permission."
Not if he's hiding something. "Sorry. We'll go."
Marshal stood and helped me up, his gaze still on my face. Once I stood, he didn't release my hand. His hold only tightened on mine. I tried to hide the singular shiver and then the continued prickle as I again looked to the man.
"Is he selling?" I asked.
The man shrugged. "Can't say. Haven't heard either way. Don't think I've seen any signs around, though."
"Can we talk to him?"
"Haven't seen him around lately. I think he had to go to Deling."
Marshal balled a hand into a fist and briefly tightened his hold on my hand. I didn't look away from the man. "We want to buy. Will you have him contact us?"
"I don't see him that often. You'd do better to leave a note or your card at the inn. He sometimes has them hold his mail."
I nodded and smiled. "Thank you." Then I turned and led Marshal back toward the fence we'd climbed before. I could see the hunger for revenge on Marshal's face, and that was the one expression I understood. If it hadn't been for our mission, I would have helped Marshal exact that revenge. It would have likely released some of my own rage. Another step toward leaving the images and nightmares behind. A step I hadn't been able to take when I had last met my father.
Words would never be enough.
We reached the fence and both climbed up and over. The man still watched us. Marshal gripped the rail.
I watched his profile before saying "Not yet" in a low voice. Marshal's jaw muscle twitched as his hands tightened on the rail. I gripped his arm. He looked down at me. "His time will come," I promised.
Marshal held my gaze for a long time before looking briefly back to the man in the field. Then he turned away, walking back the way we'd come with balled fists and a stiff gait. I moved my focus to the ma
n in the field and waved. He waved back, clearly not seeing the burning hatred and plotting of revenge in my gaze.
We walked back to town in silence, one I understood all too well. It had kept me company for years, toying with my memories and twisting me into the person I now was. No, silence had never been my friend. But what could I offer Marshal as a 'rescue'? I didn't know how to comfort or soothe a misery. I couldn't even fully face my own yet. Marshal wanted revenge. I knew it. I understood it. I would help him plot it.
But what could I give or do to help with the agony of waiting for that revenge?
A tickle against my finger drew my gaze. I blinked when I found I still held the flower Marshal had given me before. It looked more tattered than anything but--I moved my focus to his profile. Stony. Controlled. Yes, I knew it well. I reached out and gripped his arm to pull him to a stop. He did, but he didn't face me. He stared ahead; hands fisted, jaw clenched, expression pale.
I lifted a balled fist and had him open it. Then I set the sad-looking flower within his palm and stared at it. I felt Marshal move his gaze to it and then me. I didn't know why I did it. Don't know why I thought it would help. But I was a woman of few words, and those wouldn't have helped him. Words were mostly empty promises anyway. I could only offer what he offered me. Something prettier than the vision he now held.
Marshal's hand closed around the flower until the blossom peeked out of the fist in a twisted vision of anger and peace. I lifted my gaze to his face. Yes; I understood his agony. It was the one piece of him I did understand.
"She was only sixteen," he whispered roughly. "Only--"
Marshal shook his head and turned away, again walking toward town with that familiar stiff gait. I walked beside him, remembering my own 'Sixteen'. In a twisted showing of mercy, I escaped and Marshal's sister died my death. It shouldn't have been that way. I should have died. I had been wanting to die for years anyway.
But Death had laughed in my face and only made me blind, taking her life instead. I frowned. If I couldn't have my revenge on my father, Marshal would definitely have his for his sister--
Marshal's hand enfolded mine. I looked up sharply, but he continued to stare ahead with his jaw tightly clenched. I released the whole-body shiver and then ignored the continued prickle as we drew closer to town. I didn't understand why he would seek this out from someone like me. I scared people. I didn't comfort them.
"I've been looking for three years," he told me in a low, tight voice.
My focus moved to his profile. He stared ahead.
"After I got the position 'Chief of Security,' I used everything I could get my hands on. Off-time. On-time. Favors. Rank. Everything." He finally looked over at me. "Three damn years they've been hiding from me and they drop in my lap when I can't do anything?"
Marshal stopped and faced me, his hand tightening on mine until it grew to that firm pressure I had grown accustomed to from my father. My skin crawled, but I didn't pull away.
"How the hell am I supposed to do my job when I can't see or think of anything but how best to torture the bastard that mutilated my baby sister?"
It took years to get as cold as I had become, and Marshal didn't have the time. "I don't know."
His expression darkened as he shook his head. He released my hand and grabbed my upper arms. My entire body recoiled at the contact, but I. . . I couldn't pull free.
"Ahndra," he hissed, and I could hear how much he fought to keep control. "I need your help! How do I turn it off?"
"You don't." This time I pushed away, but I held his gaze. "It stays. It festers. It darkens." I looked away. "It becomes me."
Marshal scrubbed at his scalp, muttering "Damn it" again and again through clenched teeth. Confusion began to rise within. Rage and violence against me always went hand-in-hand. But Marshal hadn't struck out like he wanted to, like I know he needed to. Hadn't I put a hole in his wall? Hadn't I broken two knuckles against a wall in Deling?
Marshal swore again, and the rage I heard in his voice this time sounded so close to my father--I moved my gaze back to Marshal's face. The expression still looked different than that rage seen in Daddy's eyes. It wasn't complete. It wasn't blind. It was held under control.
"Three years," he said gruffly. "Three damn years I've been promising myself vengeance." Marshal lowered his fisted hands to his side as he met my gaze. "Damn it, Ahndra, why did it have to be now?"
I didn't know. I had asked myself the same question for years, remembering only the harsh reality instead of how I'd visualized it. Having only the image of my father instead of the face I thought I would see. I looked away. "It always comes when we don't want it."
"I know, and I still hate it."
I nodded slightly. "Hate it. It will make revenge sweeter." Although revenge always left a bitter aftertaste that warped the memory of it.
Silence settled and then I felt a slight touch on my shoulder. I didn't turn. I only accepted the expected whole-body shiver and then pushed away the continued tingle.
His gentle grip tightened very slightly before sliding down to take my hand. My entire body shivered again, and this time a muted panic blocked the rest. I could feel it building up behind my wall of control. The panic. The terror--The tingle heightened and then receded. I twitched and tried to ignore Marshal's glance.
'I need your help!' But what help could I be. I was harder than any woman should be. I made people's lives miserable to protect a colony of warriors. I didn't help anyone but the violent.
"Ana."
Marshal's tone changed, and curiosity wouldn't let me keep my gaze away. I met his silver eyes and noticed pain and misery had warped and faded the rage. My body tensed, but--
"Thank you."
I moved my focus to the safety of the town ahead. "Fine." But I hadn't done anything. I hadn't offered anything but empty words and silence.