Reign

He put his hand unerringly on the switch on the wall that turned on the work lights, and pushed it up. The lights flickered on, illuminating the stage, bare except for what looked to Abe like a pile of rags lying near the footlight panels. 'What the hell,' he muttered as he walked toward it. It was not until he was a few yards away that he saw that it was not a pile of rags, but rather the corpse of Cristina the cat, her neck twisted, her open eyes filmed over. Wastes had come out of her to stain the wood of the stage.

'Aw,' Abe said softly as he knelt next to his pet. 'Aw, hell.. .” He gently stroked her fur, then pressed his fingers into it to feel the accustomed warmth, but the small body was stiff and cold. 'Who'da done this,' he asked himself. 'Who'da done this to a little cat…” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and cradled the cat, carrying it to the back of the stage wall, where he placed it in a cardboard box. Then he took his mop and bucket and cleaned up the urine and feces, snuffling as he worked. When he was finished, he went upstairs, got the suitcases from the four suites, wheeled them down to the stage door on a trolley, and set them outside, softly crying all the while. Then he picked up the box, walked to the edge of the stage, and looked up and out at the auditorium.

'Whoever did this,' he said loudly, 'is a motherfucker!' He paused, then went on, louder than before. 'Whoever did this…” He thought for a moment. “… is a son of a bitch!'

He looked out over the empty seats, waiting for an answer, a challenge, a voice, but none came.

'Now you know,' he said, softer but with no less venom. 'You know what you are. Now you goddam well know.'

He turned, took his cat out of the theatre, and began to wait for Curt, who would come for the luggage.

That afternoon, Curt and Steinberg went back to New York, Abe Kipp buried Cristina in a wooded area outside of Kirkland, and Dennis Hamilton, after having lunch with Evan and spending the early afternoon by his bedside, did some banking.

He went back and had dinner with his son, and they watched the news and Jeopardy! together, answering questions along with the contestants. Dennis was impressed with the large amount of information the boy had picked up, despite the lack of a college education. When the show was over, Dennis knew the time had come to talk to Evan about what would happen next, but could not bring himself to begin. He was relieved by a doctor who came in, examined Evan, and told them that he would be permitted to leave tomorrow.

When the boy opened his eyes the next morning, Dennis was sitting there next to him. 'Good morning,' Dennis said.

'Hi.'

'Feeling okay?' Evan nodded. 'No dreams?'

'None I can remember.'

'How's the breathing?'

Evan took in a draught of air, expelled it. 'Good.'

'Ready to go?' Evan nodded again. 'I have something for you then.' Dennis reached into his coat pocket and took out a thick envelope. 'There's five hundred dollars in cash here. And a checkbook. I opened an account in your name. There will be three thousand dollars a month put in it, which gives you a decent annual income until you decide where you want to go, what you want to do.' Evan began to speak, but Dennis held up a hand. 'Please, let me finish. Let me say what I need to say, and then you can talk. You can yell if you want to.' He looked down at the dull orange carpet of the hospital room floor. 'I tried to run your life, Evan, and I'm sorry, I really am. What I'm sorry for the most is that I never got to know you well enough to know what your life should – could – have been, to learn what you wanted out of it, and not what I wanted for you.'

Dennis sighed, and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. 'This isn't a payoff. This isn't given out of guilt, but out of love. I want to help you be what you want to be, do what you want to do, what's right for you.'

Evan was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. 'You said that you wanted to take me to New York with you.'

'I was wrong. I was being selfish again. I want you to go where you want. You talked about California…” He trailed off.

'Do you want me to go there?'

'It doesn't matter what I want. It's what you want.' When he looked up, Evan was staring at him hard.

'Someone's after you, aren't they?' Dennis didn't, couldn't answer. 'What you said… I remember now, when I woke up. You asked me if I saw someone like you. Someone who looks like you? Is that it? Is that what all this is about?'

'I… don't know, I -'

The boy's speech was fragmented, as though he was trying to assemble sentences of great semantic complexity. 'When I saw you – did you – when you were up – on the catwalk – was that you?'

'Slow down, slow down. When?'

'Weeks ago. I had… gotten mad at you. About Ann. You grabbed me on the catwalk…'

'I didn't.'

'… almost threw me over…'

'Evan, I didn't. I would never do that.'

'But you did.'

'Have I ever done anything to you like that before? Did I ever even spank you?”

“But my God, my God, Dad. Who was it?'

Dennis took a deep breath. 'It's going to be hard to believe. But it's the truth. It's the Emperor.'

Dennis told Evan everything he knew, everything except what the Emperor said about Sid being Evan's father. 'He's done everything. Everyone who died, he was responsible for. He killed them all.'

Evan's eyes were dull, as if the truth was too impossible to accept with a clear mind. 'That can't be. He can't have done everything you said. Disappear? Make me see… what I saw?'

'I've seen him vanish. So has Ann.'

'Hypnosis then. Maybe he hypnotized me too, made me see those things and then made me forget that I ever saw him.'

'No hypnosis. He has powers, Evan. Terrible powers. He's been sucking my life away.' He looked sharply at his son, as if to impress the truth upon his mind by what little ferocity he could muster. 'I made him. I gave him life. And I think the only way to destroy him is the same way I created him. That's why I'm going to play the Emperor again, one final time. To beat him at his own game, get back what's mine, kill him for killing the others.'

'How? I don't see how.'

'By being a better emperor than he is. By being so real that he has no choice but to consider himself make- believe.' He nodded, trying to convince himself that it was all true. 'And then he'll die. Then the bastard will die.' Dennis sat, exhausted from the emotion he had expended.

Evan said something then, but so softly that Dennis could barely hear him. He looked at him curiously, and the boy repeated it. This time Dennis heard. 'I'm coming with you.'

'Coming with me? Where?'

'To New York. To wherever you'll do the show, wherever you'll be the Emperor. I've been wrong too, about a lot of things. I'm coming with you. Maybe I can help.'

'There's…” Dennis cleared his throat. 'We'll be coming back here. Back to the theatre to do the show. That's where he… it is.'

'That's all right. I don't know if I can go into the theatre, but I'll do what I can. I want to help. Whether this thing is human or.. . or what you say it is, I want to help catch it.'

' Destroy it,' Dennis corrected, and Evan, looking, his father thought, like the Marine he had been, nodded.

'Destroy it,' Evan said.

~* ~

Early that afternoon, Ann Deems finished packing to go to New York with Dennis. He had called just before noon, and told her that he and Evan would pick her up in his car around three, and that they should arrive in the city that evening.

Ann had just closed the latches of the last suitcase when she turned and saw Terri in the bedroom doorway. 'How is he?' she said.