Guns, Ghosts, & Roses
"Nor had he seen a ghost with his sister’s face."
Lukas knew what a lot of things looked like, and he hated it. He had seen the flash of a glass bottle drunkenly thrown at his head. Seen smoke rise up from bodies as a crowd dispersed. He had seen explosions, fires so bright, and riots that stretched way past curfew. He had seen pain, he had seen sorrow, he had seen execu-. Well, let’s just say he had seen a lot.
But he’d never seen a ghost before. Nor had he seen a ghost with his sister’s face. She had been gone for a while; he didn’t really remember her, didn’t really remember what she looked like. But the figure in front of him was definitely her: same blonde hair, same upturned nose, same purple eyes. But this ghost also wasn’t his sister. She was colder, more hardened. A large scar ran up the side of her nose, and her purple eyes—something about them was different. He wasn’t sure how, couldn’t remember how they used to look, but they were wrong now. They were sad and tired, and she was never supposed to be either of those things.
Oddly, she was panting. A warrior on the brink of collapse. Her large overcoat had been cut to pieces. It seemed like it might have been nice once, simple and elegant like her. Jarringly it had a golden rose embroidered over her heart. She stood over a body Lukas recognized. Recognizing it wasn’t hard; they were in the Mayor’s Tower or at least part of it that wasn’t burning and crumbling down to the ground below. His sister stared at him, her breathing slowing when she saw him.
Lukas wasn’t sure how to deal with ghosts. The manuals didn’t cover that, which was odd, because they seemed to cover everything. If the bells rang, signaling an invading army, he was to take up his position with Battalion Four. If there was a city fire caused by some delinquent, he was to be at the disposal of the closest fire marshal. If the people got ideas too dangerous to be left unchecked, riot shields and batons could be used to prevent spread. The manuals didn’t say anything about ghosts. So, Lukas leveled his gun.
“Luca…” His sister took a small step forward. “It’s me. It's Caroline.”
Lukas’s training kicked in. “Put your hands above your head.”
She didn’t. She took another step forward. “I know this looks bad, but please let me explain.”
“If you take another step forward, I will shoot.”
Amazingly, she smiled. She took another step forward. “The Luca I know couldn’t-”
Click-BANG.
She froze. Gunsmoke filled the room. The back wall now had a sudden hole in it.
“The Luca you know is dead.”
Click-SHING. A bullet casing flew from Lukas’s chamber and another one fell into place.
His sister put her arms outward, taking a step back. “I know it’s been a bit. I’m sorry we had to meet again like this. I’m just… I’m just so happy to see you.”
The tears welling in her eyes almost made Lukas believe her.
“Your conspirators are dead.” He enjoyed watching her face pale at this. “I passed their bodies on the way up here.”
“How-”
“Golden roses.” Lukas nodded toward her jacket. “Stupid, really. Insurgents should want to stay hidden.”
Caroline straightened. “It’s a symbol.”
“Of what? Idiocy?”
“Hope,” said Caroline softly. “Hope for change.”
“You could wear your hope a little more quietly.”
Caroline raised her head. “People need to see it. They need to know they won’t be left to suffer.”
“Why? You left me.”
He could see his matter-of-fact tone nearly broke her. Lukas then leveled the gun.
“How much did he hit you?” Caroline asked softly.
Lukas lowered the barrel, his eyes growing glassy. “Lost count at some point. Don’t think he was sober enough to keep count either.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you have a right to be.”
“You’re right.”
Lukas lowered the gun. He hadn’t expected that.
Caroline put her arms out to the side, then dropped them. “I was a coward.” Her voice was soft, barely audible above the bells and shouts from below. “He changed, and it scared me. Calling himself the Blacksmith. Talking about needing to create a weapon. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t stay and see what he would do. His mind broke after Mom-”
Lukas raised his gun. “We don’t talk about her.”
Caroline clenched her jaw, taking a step forward. “You can’t just hide from that.”
“Why? You hid from Father well enough.”
“By following Mother.” Caroline indicated she was going to pull something from her pocket. Lukas let her. She pulled out a ring and a piece of paper. “She found something, Luca. Truths.”
“That’s a dangerous word.”
“Why?”
“Means you think you know what you’re doing. Means you think you’re right.”
His sister sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Luca. But this,” she gestured outside, “the quiet disappearances? The gunshots in the street? The starving children? That can’t be right.”
Lukas paused.
“Come with me.” Her voice let in a hint of desperation. “We can fix it. We can change things.”
“Can’t.” Lukas aimed his gun. “Dad made his weapon.”
Caroline smiled sadly. “Guess the kind little kid is gone now, huh?”
“He is.” said Lukas. The gun shook. Luca resisted.
His sister put on the ring and tucked the note into her pocket. She adjusted her coat and looked Lukas dead in the eyes. “Whatever happens today, just know I forgive you.”
Lukas froze. Those had been the words that had broken him. Those had been the words that had led to the drinking, led to the screaming, led to the beating.
Lukas gripped the handle and laid his fingers on the trigger. A bead of sweat fell down his neck as the gun continued to shake. How strange. It had been a long time since it had done that. Caroline took a breath and closed her eyes.
Click-