Laura looked back at the crowd, puzzling over how that could be possible, and came to an absurd conclusion.
“You don’t think he was a Magi, do you? All the strange ways he was phrasing things, it would’ve been so much easier for him just to say ‘you.’ Unless he couldn’t.”
“He can’t have been,” said Okane. “Magi don’t involve themselves with cities.”
“Clae’s grandmother did,” said Laura.
“She was an exception.”
“Maybe Theron is, too.”
“No. No, if he was…” Okane pressed a hand to his chest. His vest crinkled, as if paper hid beneath it. The last time Laura had seen him store pages that way—
“Are you still carrying Clae’s letter?” she whispered, aghast.
“It mentioned things,” he said vaguely. “Laura, believe me, Magi would not come here. Maybe once, but not now. Maybe never again.”
“I don’t understand,” said Laura.
“Trust me,” he said, and he sounded pained. “If we see a Magi here, it’s not a Magi. It’s something bad. If we see Theron again, we go the opposite way.”
If he was this urgent about it she wanted to know details, but Laura swallowed down her questions. Okane didn’t keep secrets from her. Once he’d had space to breathe, space to feel safe, he’d tell her everything.
“I trust you,” she said, and he relaxed immediately. “Tell you what, let’s go to that church. This wasn’t the peaceful stop I thought it would be.”
It took some time to exit the temple, but from there they moved freely along the streets. Evening closed in, but every light on the street glowed; the only darkness visible hung high overhead, suspended from them by amulets and electric determination. More light shone from the houses on either side, windows open to the winter chill as parties raged inside and more candles guttered at the sills. Drums pounded on the next street, followed by hissing steam; the parades had begun.
“You’ll know the church when you see it,” said Laura. “Most churches these days are built simple, almost like houses. This one’s old.”
And it was. The curving road finally straightened, and a gap became visible in the buildings ahead. The Three Child Church rose from a gated compound, stone spires soaring to dwarf the neighborhood while the building rooted itself in a halo of grass. The black metal fence looked foreboding, but people went to great lengths to protect vegetation in the lower Quarters, and Laura didn’t blame them. For the time being, Underyear banners flapped along the bars, and all the church’s lights glimmered. The effect was almost as entrancing as Gustave’s Moon in Puer. The only problem was—
“The gates are closed,” said Okane.
“That can’t be right,” said Laura.
She hurried her pace. The gates had indeed been pulled shut. A man inside the compound threw chains around the close, pulling it tighter while locks lay waiting at his feet. A wispy white overcoat draped over his black clothes, marking him a priest, but he was also Ralurian and several inches shorter than Laura. He looked up at them, yellowish eyes extra stark against dark skin.
“We’re closed,” he said shortly.
“Why?” said Laura. “It’s Underyear.”
“Confidential,” said the priest.
He looked ready to throw the locks at them if they tried coming closer, and that made Laura pause. Ralurian culture prided itself not only on terrible jokes (potato peels included), but also on daredevil attitudes. Maybe it was coincidence, maybe it was bias, but the priest’s fear only compounded with Okane’s unease in Laura’s head. She snapped into business mode.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Confidential,” he repeated. “Nothing for you to worry about. Return to the celebrations.”
Laura dug in her coin purse and pulled out her ID. She flashed the multiple stars there and said, “My name’s Laura Kramer, and I’m a Sweeper. My coworker and I work closely with the police department. Please tell us—” She glanced back at Okane to indicate his involvement, only to find that he’d stopped several feet behind her to stare at the church. “Tell us if there’s anything we can help with, or if there’s anything we need to get the police involved with.”
The priest’s hands stilled. “A Sweeper.”
“Yes.”
He stared at her ID a while longer before finally looking at her face. “Something’s wrong in the church. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know where it came from or where it went, but I won’t expose any more of my parishioners to danger.”
“What makes you think something’s wrong? Are there any—”
Laura broke off as Okane caught her arm. She turned to scold him, only to pause at his expression.
“It’s an infestation,” said Okane. “There’s a massive infestation inside.”
8
AN UNDERYEAR NIGHTMARE
Laura called in the infestation.
A conveniently located police box made the process easy, and within ten minutes the operator had assured her that police were on their way and that the MacDanels would immediately be notified. Laura privately doubted that “immediately” could be applied to anything during Underyear, but returned to the church and reported everything regardless. In short order, black uniforms appeared on the street.
“Are you all safe?” said Albright, striding at the front of her small group. “If you’re standing still, I doubt it’s on the move.”
“I don’t think it’ll try running anytime soon,” Laura assured her. “Not with all this light aimed at the building and Underyear everywhere else. There’s nowhere safe for it to go.”
“Do we have any casualties?” said Albright.
“Unconfirmed,” said Laura.
“I didn’t investigate,” said the priest; during their wait, he’d introduced himself as Mateo. “My priestly group rotates our duties during the holiday. I came to relieve my senior, but as soon as I opened the doors, I knew something had gone terribly wrong. The church was dark, and empty. Silent.”
“And it couldn’t have been another cause?” said Albright. “Gas, electric malfunction? There was really no one?”
Mateo shook his head. “People would still be here if it were a power malfunction, if not in the church then here on the street. News would’ve spread. Besides that, the candles were out. The rule of Underyear, religious or otherwise, is that the light must never go out.”
“Do we have any firm evidence that this is an infestation?”
“I have no evidence of anything, but I’ve read about infestations in the papers,” said Mateo. “I believed it better to exercise all caution.”
Albright seemed pleased to have someone treating monsters as a valid threat. She’d probably dealt with citizens treating them as overwhelming phantoms, or else trivial background noise; a logical person looking for the proper way to confront them was a breath of fresh air. She sent officers along the street to check the compound’s perimeter, ensuring that lights caught every inch.
“The border is secure,” an officer reported, dashing back from the patrol. “We’ve diverted a parade to keep them out of range, but otherwise we don’t see an immediate threat to the neighborhood.”
“Good,” said Albright. “Any word on the other Sweepers?”
Before the officer could reply, Juliana came running onto the scene.
“Sorry for the delay,” she panted. “It’s murder getting through these crowds.”
“I’m surprised we were even able to reach you,” said Albright. “Not many people stay home and answer telephones today. Your brother’s not here?”
“He’s still recovering from the last job,” said Juliana. “Besides, we had a last-minute guest. We couldn’t leave him to fend for himself. Don’t worry.” She looked at Laura and Okane, and flashed the most genuine smile Laura had seen from her in a while. “We can handle this, just the three of us.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said Albright.
“Spinner guide you,” said Mateo. He
pulled the chains off of the gate and heaved it back open.
“Can we do this?” Laura whispered, glancing at Okane. “If it’s as big as you say—”
“I don’t think it’s moving much,” he replied. “Active and big, but I don’t think it’ll charge us when we walk in.”
He startled when Juliana clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she told them. “If all else fails, I’ve got a secret weapon.”
She looked to make sure that Albright had turned away, busy talking with the other officer, before pulling something from her bag. It looked like an Amicae Egg, but instead of gold, its insides eddied dark, viscous red.
“Is that like a Sinker?” Laura guessed.
“Something like it,” said Juliana. “But I’ve only got one, so it’s a last resort.”
Fine by Laura. She had a healthy wariness for Sinkers now, so she intended on bringing this monster down the old-fashioned way. She patted herself down, thanking her lucky stars she’d kept her utility belt on over her dress despite Morgan’s despair over it. She had two old Eggs, Bijou, and flash pellets. She’d done well with worse.
The Sweepers crossed the compound. The church doors dwarfed them, but when Juliana took hold of the metal handles, they opened silently and easily. The entryway lay before them, its only light stemming from the street behind them. The room spanned the same amount of space as Laura’s apartment, built in the same immaculate white stone as the exterior. Pillars supported a vaulted ceiling, its design indiscernible beyond the reflection off gold-leaf clouds. On either side of the room, large open doorways stood outlined by intricate carvings, ready to lead them to the main hall. Juliana eased further in, quiet as a cat.
“Clear,” she murmured, and moved on to the hall.
Laura and Okane followed at a distance, and Juliana made no move to stop them. Laura felt antsy, not so afraid as before but still distinctly unsettled. She leaned in to whisper, “Do you feel it? It’s not close?”
“Not quite,” he replied, hushed. “It’s a little ways away.”
“Good. How far?”
“I’ll tell - - -.”
The main room opened before them. Tall windows stretched near the vaulted ceiling, admitting scant lighting. Their glow struck the great pillars, glinted off rows upon rows of carved benches. On the far side of the hall hung a massive golden star, highly burnished but hauntingly dim now. Laura knew there were side alcoves, hung with tapestries in different weaves and colors to represent righteous spirits, but they couldn’t be seen now. The church’s recesses might as well be entries to an abyss. Around them echoed the faintest strains of song, presumably from the parades outside.
“Prime location for an infestation,” Juliana whispered. “Do either of you see any movement?”
“None,” Laura replied, just as quietly.
“It’s near the ground level,” said Okane.
For some reason Juliana didn’t question how he knew that. Instead she asked, “Distance?”
“Midway down the aisle.”
Together they crept down the aisle. Laura held an Egg in one hand, ready to arm if she saw anything suspicious. Okane slowed as they went, as if any step might take them into the beast’s range, and she held it tighter. At last they stopped. The song wove around them, but otherwise the silence pressed heavy.
“Here,” said Okane, but it couldn’t be.
Laura shook the Egg, and it began to glow. It revealed only a patch of worn carpet, identical to the rest of the aisle. Juliana stooped and ran a finger over it.
“No residue,” she reported.
“It’s here,” Okane insisted. “Just … deeper.”
“There’s a basement,” said Laura. “That’s where Morgan had the catering job. They have buffets down there after special services.”
“Then it’ll be on the basement’s ceiling.”
Ready to burst through the floor if it got angry. Laura tried to step as quietly as possible as she led the others toward the far side.
Priests usually presided from the raised dais, and on the one occasion she’d been here before, it had been flanked by massive stands laden with burning candles and incense stuck in sand. So many candles burned on them, she’d barely seen the metal frames through all the melting stubs, and the Underyear votive pieces had dripped a rainbow of color onto the floor. As Mateo said now, all the candles had gone out, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The stands had been thrown. One lay smashed across the dais steps, while the other had been tossed into the seats. It stuck up out of the ruined wood like a skeletal shipwreck.
The basement door stood to the dais’s side. Laura gave it a sharp tug to make it open, and as soon as it did, the song became stronger. A single voice came particularly clear.
“Oh great Spirits, miraculous Spinner! On this glorious day we praise thee!”
Laura sucked in a harsh breath. “There are people down there!”
“The infestation must be concealing itself,” said Juliana. “Let’s get down there, but don’t make any sudden movements. If they start panicking, it might react.”
Laura nodded, and made her way down the staircase. The sound of voices grew louder as she went.
“As you have blessed us with your teachings, we strive to follow your creed! We ask you to look down on your devoted followers, to count our sins and deem us worthy to join you in the life everlasting!”
The basement floor came into view. Where the main church boasted lavish decoration, the basement, wide as the hall above and walled in brick, had none; no seats broke the room’s expanse. Of the three large light fixtures, only two still worked; the middle had smashed, and the one closest to the stairs flickered. Festivalgoers in ragged regalia stood in a circle. They swayed to and fro, raising their hands and chanting as if in a trance. Their mechanical song continued in perfect unison.
“Spinner, Spinner, make us worthy, Spinner, Spinner, make us pure, Spinner, Spinner, you have woven us, Spinner, Spinner, lead us on.”
“Everlasting!” The triumphant cry came from an old man. He didn’t wear the white overcoat, instead a sash of patterned green; a priest’s assistant. “Life everlasting! The life in this world is fleeting and flawed, but with death, the faithful are gifted eternal life and happiness! We, the faithful, the spun, we are the Spinner’s chosen, and he welcomes us to his side. He yearns enough for our company to send us this gift!”
The man gestured at the center of the circle, at the very thing that made Laura’s breath freeze in her throat. The infestation roiled in plain sight, twice as tall as a man and three times as wide, its surface frothing as thin tendrils looped drunkenly above and beside it. She’d seen something similar in an infestation before, and Clae’s explanation leapt to mind.
They can get loopy at times, and less likely to move unless they’re startled. That means it’s content. Digesting after a big meal.
Digesting after a big meal.
“It ate them,” she whispered. Her hands shook. “It ate everyone in the church.”
From the crowd of singers, two people stepped up to the dais. They watched the infestation with eyes full of weird, unfocused wonder. The old man cheered them on.
“Come forward, my children! Through this door we ascend to the kingdom of the Spinner! Embrace your fears and overcome them: this is pleasing to him. The Spinner will reward you for your bravery and piety!”
The infestation’s tendrils curled lazily around the pair.
“Stop!” Laura cried, running into the room. “Get out of there, quick!”
The surrounding people didn’t so much as look at her, though a few startled out of their trance. The old man jumped, blinked at her in surprise, and said, “Calm yourself, young lady. Your turn will come soon enough. The Spinner rewards patience.”
Laura grabbed one of the people and pulled her away from the infestation’s trailing feelers, clicking the Egg against her amulet and lobbing it at the infestation.
“Come on!” Sh
e tried to pull her farther away as Okane shouted, “Everybody get down! Get away from there!”
The woman stayed still despite Laura’s tugging.
“Why are you trying to stop me?” she asked, her wide, mad eyes boring into Laura’s. “I’m going to see the Spinner!”
“All you’re going to do is get eaten by a monster!” Laura snapped, yanking harder. They had barely any time now before the Egg detonated; it flashed at the foot of the infestation, which reached down to poke at it in curiosity.
“Laura, get back!”
The Egg went off. Light flashed with a roar, glass shattered. The monster gave an almighty shriek and thick black smoke rose into the air. The force knocked Laura and the woman off their feet and caused everyone to stagger, the chant eclipsed by distorted sound. Heat seared the air and Laura scuttled farther away, finally dropping the woman’s arm in favor of escaping burns. When she got far enough Okane heaved her to her feet. The gold kin curled like liquid flame, swirling dark around the black cloud of infestation with a rattling hiss. She’d never seen an Egg explosion so dark or so long-lasting. It sent a chill down her spine, and her mind reverted to the night Clae died, the wild kin. It felt the same. The kin was angry.
The two who’d nearly been killed scrambled from the light with shrill cries. The old man grasped at the air, unable to get close but reaching anyway, horrified.
“The gift!” he cried. “Our gateway! How could you? This is a treasure brought upon us by the Spinner, and you’ve ruined it!”
Juliana lurched forward, yelling, “Get out of the way! It’s still alive!”
Up from the black cloud, tendrils lashed out and stuck to the ceiling, providing a handhold for the infestation to heave itself out of the Egg wreckage. Its black hulk looked slimier, scabbed and dry but shining even more reddish in the cracks. It squealed and opened its hideous red eye.
“Out!” Juliana yanked one spectator, then the next, off balance and shoved them toward the door. “Gateway nothing, that’s a monster!”
The Monstrous Citadel Page 14