The Crescent

Chapter 19

He sank into one of the armchairs near the foyer's unlit fireplace and closed his eyes. It wouldn't remedy this particular exhaustion, but human habits died hard. His intervention in Baker's performance (that, in his opinion, had been poorly constructed for Zacari), left him wrung like a wash-rag. His soul needed a nap.

Baker had relied on counterfeit beauty to convince Zacari she could trust him. By knocking on the door of the forged memory Will had shaken it up a bit. He'd even called out, "Excuse me?" He laughed to himself. His mother would be pleased at his gall. Baker hadn't known what to expect, hadn't even a plan!

He expects me to cower, Will realized. A chip of his fear recast itself into determination. It was a small success. Even though he was dead, the muscles in his face that worked to make smiles felt unused, and the expression was a pleasant stretch.

He still didn't understand why Baker wanted to win Zacari's trust, but he at least understood how he was winning it. He was using Will's camera, which was as much a part of Will as his arm or leg, to build memories to present himself in a kind, selfless light. And Baker was neither.

There were memories in the sturdy metal walls of his camera that Will had nearly forgotten.

But.

Baker completely couldn't alter the memories. The memory of sitting with Gloria while she breathed her last breath was consistent. It was still Gloria. It was still her hospital room. Instead of Will, it had been Baker at her side. It seemed that Baker couldn't muster any memories of his own to manipulate. Or perhaps he had none that would present him trustworthy. In a way, he depended on Will to earn Zacari's trust.

Maybe Baker knew that too because he'd adopted a sickeningly fatherly demeanor towards Zacari. Playing off her tumultuous relationship with her own father, no doubt. Smart, Will credited. Because, after all, that had won Zacari over in the end. Not that it was her fault. The performance had been tailored for her.

Baker had thrown the wool over Zacari's head, but Will had stabbed through.

And just maybe, he'd rip through.