‘I also ask myself why they risked their necks to save a fool like me,’ he continued. ‘Every time I wake up from the dark dreams that haunt my sleep, every time I quietly look at each of them and perceive the true beauty of their mighty souls, their proud, strong hearts, the light of their indefatigable spirits that shines so bright, far brighter than mine ever could, I wonder … why, why, why did they risk everything for a burned-out wreck like me? I don’t like your attitude, Chloe, but I can understand why you think of me the way you do. Hell, it’s what I think of myself all too often. There are few people on this planet I hate more than the one I see in the mirror every morning, some days. And perhaps they shouldn’t have rescued me. Perhaps it would have been better to have allowed the Huntsmen to put me out of my misery, eh? But they didn’t, and against all odds, they saved me, and here I am. Here you are, your lot now thrown in with mine, with ours. Neither of us asked to be here, but here we are all the same. My life was in the shitter, Chloe, and it had been for far, far longer than you’ve even been alive. Part of me wishes that Aboubakar and the Huntsmen had killed me back in New York … and the old me, the me that existed before I plummeted off that roof, the me consumed by addiction and selfishness and cowardice, the me that had lost faith in everything and given up every hope and dream that he’d ever had, he deserved to die then. But somehow, in that process of near death, an older me, one I thought had died and rotted decades, centuries ago … was resurrected, raised from the tomb. He hasn’t quite materialised fully, not yet, but he’s more than a ghost, I promise you that. He’s more physical than phantom, more present than ever, and he’s growing stronger and more solid every day now, and the old me – the junkie, the coward, the nihilist – he’s fading away and dying, something he should have done a long time ago. But that bastard still has some fight left in him, and believe me, Chloe, he’s pushing back with all the force he bloody well can to stay alive, as much as the original me wants him to just crawl off and die. There’s a battle raging inside me, lass, a battle for my very heart and soul, for everything I am, everything I could be. And your attitude, your comments, your barely veiled loathing of me, while understandable, doesn’t do much to aid the better side of me in his fight. If you really want to impress Njinga, then help me instead of hindering me. Raise me up instead of putting me down every chance you get. You might think you know her, and it’s clear as day that you admire her, but your understanding of who she really is is superficial at best, I’m afraid to say. You’ve known her for all of what, two weeks? I’ve known her since before the turn of the twentieth century, lass. Trust me when I say that I know her a tad better than you do, yeah?’
‘I … I was just trying to protect my friend,’ Chloe murmured, the wind sucked from her sails. ‘I’ve seen how heroin can destroy a person’s life. And I didn’t want Jun to be exposed to a, um, a bad influence.’
‘He’s not a bad influence!’ Jun snapped abruptly, spinning around and glowering at Chloe, his fists lumpy white balls at his sides. ‘He understands what I’m going through! Don’t assume you can speak for me, and stop treating me like a child!’
Chloe’s rage crumpled in on itself, like a sheet of thin plastic exposed to a sudden and unexpected ferocity of heat. In the face of this unexpected defeat she was left floundering for words. William, however, had no interest in winning this argument or putting her down. Before she could respond, he spoke in a soothing, sympathetic tone.
‘Thank you, Jun, for sticking up for me, and thank you, Chloe, for making your feelings known. You’ve both got infernos burning in your hearts, and that’s something that I greatly admire. You must remember, though, that you are not like us. You’re mortal, with all the limitations that entails. You’ll age and change, faster than you can ever realise from where you’re standing now. These years that seem so long and stretched-out to you now will become like mere blinks of the eye to you in the decades that will come … and in a few short years you’ll look and feel older than I do, even though I’m coming close to my two hundredth birthday. I haven’t been mortal, not in the sense that you two are, for a long time now, but I’ve seen so many lives, so very many, come and go through the years, passing like rushing trains through an endless night. The gift of youth is so very precious, all the more so because it’s so fleeting and temporary, and most of those upon whom it is bestowed do not realise its precious value until long after it has been lost forever. Use that fire in your belly while you’ve got it! It’ll be gone in a few short years, and all those thoughts of revolution and changing the world will be displaced … and replaced by thoughts of sensible savings, mortgaging property, an investment portfolio, a reliable but subtly sporty vehicle, a retirement package that includes the best medical cover and a generous pension, matching sets
