“Well, it’s good news.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We found you a body. One that’s perfect as a matter of fact. Actually better than your old one.”
“Hey. There was nothing wrong with my body.”
“Okay. Simmer down. I’m just saying you might accept the transition easier if you consider this an upgrade.
“A thirty-one-year-old Black Swan knight was the victim of a vampire bite in Rio last night while on patrol. He was staked by his partner, according to procedure. But I guess you know all about procedure. We recovered the body in time to heal the wounds and purge the bacteria that interacts so badly with human biology in your world.
“We also forged transfer papers to New Jersey. As far as his former unit commander knows…”
“Sovereign.”
“Yes. His former Sovereign. As far as he’s concerned Sir Farthing is on his way to Fort Dixon right now.”
If Solomon Nememiah had ever been more excited, he’d lost track of that memory. He was going back. He tried out the name to see how it felt on his tongue. “Farthing.” He realized that he probably shouldn’t be giddy about some poor devil’s fate, but he told himself that it was circle of life stuff. One creature benefits from another’s misfortune.
“Wait a minute. The vampire bite… it wasn’t, uh…”
“No. No. Relax. It was pure fate. The man was in the wrong place at the wrong time and that’s all there was to it.
“Sir Reverence Foster Farthing. Rev for short. There’ll be a scar over your heart where he was staked so you’ll need to come up with a cover story in case you’re asked. Bicycle accident as a child or something like that.”
Kellareal grinned. “And I know you don’t care one way or the other, but most people who see you in your new body? The first thing they’re going to think is that you’re good-looking.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t care about that. What I do care about is the catch.”
“Catch? Ah. The fine print. Very astute because indeed there is some.”
“Thought so. Let’s have it.” Sol gave his beer bottle several rotations on the bar without lifting it up.
“First, you have to agree formally that you will never tell anyone who you were.”
Sol nodded.
“Second, some of Farthing’s memories may be embedded in the brain circuitry and that could cause some confusion. Could take some getting used to.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Last, you’ll be deposited into a healthy new body on its way to Jefferson Unit to take up the position of active duty knight. We’re putting you on the chess board with all the tools you require. What happens after that is up to you.”
“I guess it’s the best I could hope for.”
Kellareal smiled and put his hand on Sol’s shoulder. “It’s better than I thought was possible. You fought the law and damned if you didn’t win. Everybody knows it doesn’t get better than that.”
“I guess I owe you a thank you. So. Thank you. When do I leave?”
The angel laughed.
Sol blinked and when he opened his eyes he was on a company jet that was taxiing. He looked out the window to a view he knew very well. The plane was pulling up to The Order’s private hangar at Fort Dixon. He moved his hands to unbuckle his seatbelt, but the action felt unfamiliar. No hint of carpal tunnel or reminder of the finger he’d broken in Seville.
He looked down at the young strong hands in his lap, the long fingers and large knuckles, the smoothness and even skin tone, the healthy veins. All of a sudden he couldn’t wait to stand up and get to a mirror.
When Kellareal had talked about his looks, he told the truth when he said that was the last of his concerns, but facing the very real prospect of a new identity put that in a different light. The desire to know what he looked like was as intense as a compulsion.
When he felt the plane’s brakes make that final stop, he swung up and out of his seat with the easy athleticism of a much younger man. The flight attendant came toward him. She wasn’t just smiling. She was flirting.