Chapter Twenty-Four

Kerry took an overcoat from Lanny’s hands and draped it over her shoulders. “So, what should I do next?” she asked.

Lanny didn’t answer; instead, she pointed at Kurt, then stepped aside and gave Steven, who was lying on the orange barrier, a kick.

“Just… sleep a bit more,” Steven mumbled, “and do it again tomorrow morning…”

The orange barrier tilted, flipping Steven onto the ground.

“The autopsy on Cecile is complete,” Kurt stepped forward and said to Kerry. “If you’re lucky, the police will notice the wound on her head doesn’t match the table in the lounge. Coupled with Donald’s ongoing disappearance, they’ll probably start investigating you. But don’t worry,” he glanced at Colonel Carter, who was approaching the group, “that man won’t let you have contact with anyone else again. So for you, what’s next is to vanish completely.”

“Don’t make it sound so frightening.” Colonel Taka stopped beside Kurt and looked down at Steven, lying in the grass. “Miss Duane, I’m sorry for your misfortune.” He nodded to Kerry. “To help you recover smoothly, we’ll assist you in leaving this troublesome situation behind. You’ll have a new identity, a new home, and a new life. As for these painful memories, there’s no need to mention them again. If, one day, you feel the urge to tell someone about tonight, we’ll revisit the plan to make you disappear for good.”

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” Kerry murmured. “She’d been stalking me for a long time, knew so much about me and my husband. The things she said, the thoughts she planted… I just wanted to scare her off, to make her leave, but that hammer, damn it all…”

“Darling,” Colonel Taka placed a hand on Kerry’s shoulder, cutting her off, “no one cares.”

A man dressed as a clerk came forward, supporting Kerry and leading her toward a nearby military truck.

“Wait! My husband!” Kerry turned her head, shouting to Kurt, “You’ll bring him back, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said coolly. “The one who became a spirit was Cecile, not Donald.”

“What do you mean?” Kerry asked. “You… you will bring him back, won’t you?”

Kurt didn’t answer again.

“But look at this clearing, I’m fine now,” Kerry said urgently. “We have plans to carry out, just needed to sell the house. Now, with your help… Life in a big city must be so new, he could keep working as a repairman…” She kept muttering, her voice growing fainter and fainter.

At the edge of the clearing, Ziang walked over to Amelia. The purple barrier that had been above her head extended to shield him from the rain as well.

Ziang’s eyes widened; he looked up in surprise, then gave a look of deep gratitude, but quickly coughed and rearranged his face into its usual composure. “Th-thank you,” he said, pointing at the barrier, “and thank you, Shelley.”

“What about Shelley?” Amelia asked.

“Just now, I mean… Oh, I thought it was you…” Ziang mumbled incoherently. “N-nothing. Sorry I left you to deal with that spirit alone. You must be tired.”

“I’ll go rest now,” Amelia replied, turning and heading toward the car she had arrived in.

“Um,” Ziang called quickly, “can we meet on normal days? Like, if I call in advance or something—if I had your number?”

“It’s in the guild’s personnel files,” Amelia said.

“You mean, the work number?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have… a more, personal one?”

“I do.”

But Amelia was already too far for Ziang to ask more.

“Three kidneys out,” Steven, as limp as jelly, shuffled up behind Ziang and muttered.

“What did you say?” Ziang replied at once. “I didn’t…”

“Let me tell you,” Steven interrupted, “don’t listen to all that crap about ‘you need confidence and technique to pick up girls.’ The most important thing is choosing the right target, and you completely missed.”

“Choosing the right what?” Ziang asked.

“Target,” Steven repeated.

“What?”

“Target! Target!” Steven gestured in front of his mouth.

“Why are you talking like that?” Ziang asked.

“Just woke up, okay?!” Steven clutched his forehead and walked over to Lanny. “Lanny, damn it, did you make me headbutt that thing or what…”

Inside the van, Dylan was reading words written on a sticky note. When he heard a commotion outside, he put down the note and stood facing the back door.

“Treasure, what a lucky night this has been,” Colonel Taka opened the door and stepped inside. “Not a single casualty. Looks like I should give you a special debriefing so that—”

“The machine is yours,” Dylan cut him off before he could finish, though the interruption seemed to make him uncomfortable. He flexed his upper body and stepped aside.

Colonel Taka frowned. “What’s going on?” He looked at Dylan, then at the machine. “No, I’ve never played it like this. It’s not theft or robbery—now I don’t even know what to say.”

“Actually, someone has already written it out for you.” Dylan held up the sticky note and read aloud, “‘Colonel Taka will question if the machine has been tampered with, and you are to say—’ Oh, I say,” he looked up at Colonel Taka, “the machine hasn’t been modified. Its tracking and carrier display functions are still intact. Both the machine and the recorded data can be handed over to the military, provided you accept two conditions. First, once Kerry is resettled, the guild will take ownership of the Duane family’s house, with all costs covered by the military. Second, for all missions handled by our team—that is, Squad Seven of Department One of the Guild—the military shall not interfere in any way. Miss Walton has currently set the machine to target a spirit; if the military takes any extreme measures, the machine will… self-destruct?!”

Dylan glanced at the machine, then took another step aside.

“Please consider the above as the final agreement between both parties,” Dylan continued, reading from the note. “Also, please conclude this agreement by leaving quietly and refraining from further contact with Dylan. This…” he coughed and looked up, “is Mr. Midhof’s instruction. Personally, I have no, um, no opinion on whether you stay or go.”

Colonel Taka opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of what to say. He turned and waved to the soldiers outside.

Two soldiers hurried in to carry the machine out of the van.