Rules of Fate

Chapter 6 Seriously?

'Why are we here?' I whispered urgently into his ear.

'Why do you think?' he asked, the sarcasm so palpable I could taste it.

The expensive shopaholic had been bad but this was smashing the scale. We were in a much more run down part of town. In fact when the cab had rolled to a stop Callum had had to coax me out of it. I looked around in mild disbelief. Our last target had been surrounded by luxury and hot cars. This neighbourhood had never seen the likes of a limousine and the only hot cars were the stolen ones.

'Come on.' Callum had paid the cabbie who looked relieved to be leaving.

Take me with you! I wanted to scream after him. Callum was already moving and if I didn't want to lose him I had to move now. The buildings were layered with years' old dirt and rubbish heaps were propped up in every alleyway we passed. I put my hand over my nose to try and block the smell of garbage but it still got through, the fumes prying between my fingers insistently. Callum came to a stop a few yards away. He didn't seem to mind the smell of the general decay around us.

On the way I had learnt that he was one of the high-level Fatelists, slightly higher than my mentor and second in charge of Operations at the Society, which to me appeared to be a big deal. I wondered what kind of places I would have to go to if even the high-level Fatelists had to deal with this hellhole.

The target must be really important to the Society for someone like Callum to handle it personally. He opened a black metal door and climbed the stairs to the second floor. I wanted to turn back at the door, especially since there were threats painted on it in red paint for whoever tried to open it. Instead I trudged up the stairs, making sure not to step in any of the puddles dotted around. I had no idea what they were and didn't want to find out, since the obvious candidates didn't really appeal at the outset. This place should be on CSI, I thought. In fact, maybe it had been the scene of a real crime scene investigation judging from the smears I could see on the walls. I fully expected to see the outline of a body on the next landing. Disappointingly only litter met my searching gaze. Callum nudged open the door to an apartment and slunk in, invisibility intact. I followed his example and stepped over the threshold.

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Now I stared at the wild haired man who was skipping past us with a glass flask in one hand and a large dropper in the other.

'Meet Dale, our resident genius,' Callum said softly.

Dale could have passed for Einstein except he was only a few years older than me, was wearing a long blue housecoat over what I believed were pyjamas and had on teddy bear bedroom slippers with flashing noses. Not for the first time I wondered if we were in the right place. I was sure Callum had opened the wrong door and thrown us into a mental asylum.

The apartment looked nothing like an apartment. There were flasks and bottles full of weird substances everywhere. Every table and shelf was crammed with scientific objects I couldn't name. The kitchen, I guessed, had never been used for cooking normal food. Books and rubbish littered the floor haphazardly. The only other life form in the room was a cockatiel on a perch near a workbench that squawked miserably now and then. For some reason it seemed to stare straight at me with its beady black eyes.

'Animals sense us even if we are invisible,' Callum whispered.

I nodded and looked away from the bird to see our target sail past us again, singing an Ace of Base song tunelessly in a high pitched voice that set my teeth on edge. He turned suddenly and the flask he was holding tipped, spilling some of its contents on his housecoat sleeve which started smoking instantly. He didn't seem to notice. I stepped forward instinctively to wrench the coat off of him as the smoke intensified and a hole appeared. The fluid was eating away the cloth. Callum pulled me back and sent a strong suggestion to Dale. He paused for a second to look blankly at the disintegrating sleeve and then cast off the house coat leaving it in a smoking heap on the ground as he continued mixing different solutions.

'So we are baby-sitting him,' I said finally.

Callum didn't look away from Dale, 'In a way. Dale is a genius, but he lacks direction. If he is successful he will be able to help humanity in so many ways. His inventions could save lives.' He nodded at the flask Dale was holding. 'That is a possible cure for malaria, a disease that kills many in the third world. If he stays safe and doesn't get distracted in a few years he could be spearheading amazing research.'

I glanced at the insane looking man muttering to himself. 'He seems to be more of a danger to himself,' I observed.

'Yes, well, he is definitely eccentric.'

I wouldn't have chosen "eccentric" as a way of describing Dale. Mentally unstable came to mind, but who was I to judge? We spent the next few hours with him.

'I don't think this will work,' Dale muttered to himself. By now both Callum and I had made ourselves comfortable on a couch that we had found near the door. I glanced up to see him swirling a liquid listlessly. 'What's the point? I'm a failure.'

'No you're not,' Callum sent back.

'I'm useless, I can't do this.' He crumpled into a heap on the floor sobbing into a very large dirty handkerchief. I was speechless.

'You are great, you will do great things,' Callum insisted, 'but there's no time to waste.'

'It's too hard!' Followed by a loud wail that almost shattered my eardrums and made the bird almost fall off its perch.

'You are the only one who can do this. You are so close.' The positive thoughts kept coming until after fifteen minutes of cajoling and encouragement, Dale stood up and started working again. I sighed. Everyone was allowed to wallow sometimes right? It was normal.

No it wasn't. Normal didn't exist where Dale was concerned. His breakdowns happened frequently. He would be singing and working on his project and then out of nowhere self doubt would strike until he slowed down and then inevitably burst into tears. Only Callum's insistent encouragement could break through his despair which was immediately followed by several minutes of maniacal hyperactivity until the whole process repeated itself. I was exhausted.

After the tenth breakdown I wanted to scream but instead I watched Callum at work with glazed eyes. I was starting to understand how the cockatiel felt. Dale, at random intervals, also decided to stuff a biscuit into his mouth and then as an afterthought threw some seeds at the bird. More often than not he aimed directly at the bird resulting in it flapping and screeching to avoid the missiles before pecking at the few that did land on the workbench. At long last Callum beckoned to me and we left, Dale now catching up on some sleep, slumped over one of the work benches.

'Is he going to be ok?'

'Yeah, another Fatelist will be with him for the rest of the time. I just monitor him now and then.'

'Wow,' I breathed.

'So what do you think?' he asked as we headed back to headquarters, 'Fun isn't it?'

I looked at him carefully to see if he was joking, but he looked serious enough. 'I don't think "fun" quite cuts it,' I replied, and then decided to be honest, 'it's so hard. I really don't think I can handle it.'

'Aww cheer up, you'll handle it alright.'

I felt a warm glow from his compliment. He really thought I could do it. He believed in me. He was silent for a few minutes and then he proceeded to burst my bubble of happiness.

'Besides,' he said with another smile, 'it's not like you have much of a choice right?'

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