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“There is evil in the world,” Messenger said. “It comes from within us, but there are times as well when it is . . . suggested to us.”
“Like Derek did with Charles?”
“And in another way as Derek and Charles did to Manolo. That is the evil that calls for justice.” He cast another longing look down at the darkening streets and said, “I can’t spend any more time here. We have our duties.”
“Who is Ariadne? Why would she be here?” I asked. But I didn’t really expect an answer, and got none.
With no sensation of movement we were thousands of miles away, standing in a noisy, bright-lit gymnasium. The bleachers were half-filled, but the kids and parents there were enthusiastic, shouting encouragement and occasionally cheering in a disorganized but sincere way.
Out on the polished wood floor two boys in spandex uniforms, heads encased in the insectile helmets used by high school wrestlers, circled each other, crouched, cautious. One was Derek.
Derek lunged, caught the other boy’s leg, pulled, and then fell atop the boy as he squirmed out of the hold, reversed with a smooth twist, and locked his arms around Derek’s shoulders.
The cheering fell silent. The referee’s whistle was stilled. The boy on top went limp and Derek, imagining he had just gained advantage, swarmed out of his grip, threw his opponent down onto the mat, and only after nearly a minute realized that no one but him was moving.
Bewildered, he looked up. He fixed his eyes on me first, then, nervous, shifted to Messenger.
“Derek Grady,” Messenger said. “You are called to account for your actions.”
Derek looked left, right. It would almost have been comical, had I not known some of what awaited him.
“What’s going on?” Derek asked. He disentangled himself from his limp, blank-faced opponent, and stood up. He looked all around and yelled, “Hey! Hey, people! Hey! What the . . .”
His words trailed away as he saw a yellow mist begin to seep between the bleachers, through the frozen crowd, along the raftered ceiling, across the polished wood floor.
r /> “What is this?” he demanded of me, choosing me, I supposed, as the one more likely to be intimidated by his belligerence.
I did not answer. Neither did Messenger. I had already begun to adopt Messenger’s solemnity, though it had not been a conscious decision on my part.
“Derek Grady, I offer you a game,” Messenger said.
“Who the . . . What . . . Go away. Get lost. Creeps.”
“If you accept the invitation to the game and lose, you will suffer a punishment,” Messenger said. “If you refuse the game, you will suffer punishment. If you accept the game and win, you will be allowed to go on without any further interference.”
“Are you threatening me?” Derek demanded.
“I am offering you a choice,” Messenger said.
“Yeah, well, I have a choice for you, loser: take a walk or get your butt kicked. How about that choice?”
Messenger said nothing. He just waited.
Derek was nerving himself up for a fight. He threw out his chest and made a “Come on” gesture with his hands. Messenger did not respond in any way, not by look or gesture.
Derek stepped closer, hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to stop him, and then leaped at Messenger. He passed through or past Messenger and landed on his hands and knees a few feet beyond.
Angry and frightened now, Derek rushed at Messenger’s back and again space warped so that no contact was made, and Derek found himself yet more angry and frightened. Now Derek swung a fist at Messenger, which would surely have passed harmlessly by except that Messenger had apparently lost patience and, with a simple raising of his palm, caused Derek’s legs to weaken and drop him to his knees.
“I offer you a game,” Messenger repeated. “If you refuse to choose, then I will make the choice for you.”
“Game? What game?”
“Do you choose to play? Answer yes or no.”
“Ah ah ah!” a female voice called out. “Don’t be too quick to answer.”
Oriax, halfway up in the bleachers, stood and sauntered down, legs a mile long, dressed in her third exotic outfit. I wondered if Derek could see her, but from the way his eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and his face flushed, I assumed the answer was yes.
