by J M Guillen
I imagine it might concern them if she just falls over dead, Wyatt filled in.
Right. I frowned. I don’t know that there’s anything I can do, unless I’m willing to start up the monster mash again.
You can inject her, Delacruz sent. It would probably take a few moments for the defense variables to kick in. You could be a few streets away before they start flipping out.
But they would flip out. I sighed and cursed to myself. I just don’t know if I can make a difference here.
“The moon also rises.” Her head moved up jerkily, as if she weren’t quite strong enough to move it smoothly, and she stared. “The gates of time are merciless.”
This had been some unwitting woman, a victim of unforeseen circumstance. One dark night, these leering, croaking shadows had risen from a broken amphora, possibly even the sea itself. They had taken her. They had dragged her beneath the waves, brought her to a ruined city of madness, and impregnated her. Slowly, like sunlight as it drifts beneath the waves, her humanity had faded.
I bit my lip. The woman’s situation might be cruel, but I had a Variance to catch. If that wasn’t destroyed, then this suffering might increase a million fold.
I couldn’t risk endangering all of us for this one woman.
Sorrowful though it was, this kind of thing happened more commonly than the Facility wanted to admit. Hell, my ex-girlfriend, Caprice—
I halted in my tracks.
I glanced back at the woman.
The Phothu-nacyi continued their odd dance, a series of movements that involved stopping every few steps and simultaneously staring at a point in space I couldn’t see, something in the distance.
The woman sat there, a person out of place. A person taken by unfathomable creatures, whose very body had been violated.
Just like Caprice.
I sighed.
Damnit.
Anya, I linked to her alone. I have a question?
Anything, Michael.
Gideon wouldn’t do this. I turned back and surveyed the woman. She gazed into nothingness, her lips crafting nonsense. He wouldn’t just leave this woman here.
That’s hard to say, Michael.
Is it? I quirked up the side of my mouth. Once, I saw Gideon risk blowing an entire dossier because he had concerns that the Irrat’s children might end up as collateral.
Many times, Gideon DuMarque puzzled me. She paused. He often made choices that were not necessarily what I considered to be best for the dossier.
But they were his choices. I hadn’t truly needed to ask the question. In my bones, I knew Gideon had lived and died as his own man. Even when the Designates grew frustrated with his decisions, the old man invariably did the right thing.
It was what he’d wanted from me too:
Make me proud.
Okay, I linked my cadre. I’m about to be a bit reckless.
You? Reckless? Delacruz’s link felt flat, absolutely devoid of surprise. I’m shocked. Shocked.
I am using one of the injectors on this woman. I opened my side pack and peered inside. Rachel, it seems like I’ve got a plethora of Type III’s in here.
You do. She paused for a moment. Yes, Alpha, if I were going to burn mecha, those are the ones I would burn.
I have no idea how this will go, I warned them. But I’m about to kick the hornet’s nest.
Copy that, Alpha. I felt Wyatt’s rebel grin. Give ’em hell.
I stepped back toward the woman, though I didn’t exactly turn my back on the Phothu-nacyi. I decided I wanted to be to her left, so I’d be closer to the passageway out.
As I slipped closer, I could make out her rambling, nonsense words.
“The darkened eye.” She almost giggled, and her voice sighed with mad mirth. “Too much. Too many.”
I holstered one of my disruptors and held the injector in my right hand. The things were damn near painless, and oftentimes when I received one, I didn’t feel it at all.
But not always.
Wait. What was—?
Something snagged at my mind.
Light glinted off silver. It lured me, pulled at some forgotten corner of my mind, and plucked at my dreams, while it burned with wrathful desire. Then the sensation faded.
Hold on, I sent and stopped in place. As I neared her, I realized the woman wasn’t naked. Well, not quite.
What’s up Hoss?
She’s actually wearing something… on her wrist. I peered closer.
That’s an odd choice for modesty, Rachel noted.
It’s a tiny locket. I frowned. Silver. With a piece of purple Turkish jade set into it.
Same stone as the amphora. Wyatt bit his lip.
Michael, ambient Rationality is not particularly far from baseline where you stand. She paused. The entire city is slightly super-Rational, of course. But the aberrations here emit some trace amounts of Irrationality themselves.
Here? Wyatt interjected. What do you mean?
The creatures beneath Rome simply seemed bestial. Horrific, yes, but nothing beyond Rational physics.
Unlike these. I frowned.
Affirmative. The deeper we pass into the city, the more the Phothu-nacyi shift away from baseline Rationality. It doesn’t seem to be anything they can shape so much as a portion of their nature.
What does this have to do with the bracelet?
If there is any stray Irrationality emanating from the bracelet, I am not noticing it. But there are several signatures near you, and without the deep telemetry coils, it is difficult to discern individual signatures.
That’s not what concerns me. I swore to myself.
What? I felt Wyatt’s hackles rise.
Patch incoming. I sent a small patch that showed my visual of the bracelet.
On the tiny surface of the stone, someone had carefully scratched two small symbols. They were rough but perfect. Too perfect to be happenstance.
The letters MB.
Holy shit! I felt Wyatt’s eyes go wide. That’s not a coincidence.
It can’t be, right? I ran my fingers through my hair.
Well, think it through. Delacruz shook her head a touch. Anya says it’s not emanating Irrationality. So what is it?
That is not exactly what I said, Anya reminded us.
A message.
The woman twitched, and I blinked at her. Had she suddenly seen me?
No. No, she stared through me.
My head began to pound, the start of a truly raging headache.
Rachel, I linked to my Caduceus. I need you to do something about my headache.
It’s not wise. And… Of course you know that. You know the diaphanic emitter has to vent its radionics somewhere, and if you don’t switch it off, it vents through your basal ganglia.
I do know. I smiled tiredly. Do it. Offset the damage.
Yes, Alpha.
A message? Anya frowned. From who?
From fucking Amir Cadavas, I all but snarled. Naturally.
I find that highly unlikely, Michael.
It doesn’t change the truth. I blinked, but my headache had already started to fade. Don’t you see? He knew. He absolutely knew that if he left this poor woman out here, I’d have to check it out, have to try to release her, even if only through death.
That’s insane. Delacruz folded her arms, and I felt her disbelief. Mike, the city is huge. How could he know you’d come this way?
He couldn’t. I chewed on my lip. That’s impossible. So that means he cast a net.
You think he left more than one? Wyatt didn’t believe me either.
I know he did. It’s how he thinks.
Please explain, Michael.
He knows exactly where these amphibious pieces of shit keep their human chattel. He trotted out eight, maybe a dozen, and attached a message to them. Left them guarded by a bunch of toads.
He’d have to leave them in places you’d be very likely to pass.
He’s had time to plan, I responded.
So you continue on your c
ourse. Anya linked this as if it were the most natural choice in the world. Ignore the woman and ignore the bracelet. It is obviously a trap.
I couldn’t though. The silver light of that bracelet shone in my mind and teased me like the caress of a lover. I had no way to explain that to them, but I just…
Couldn’t.
I’ve changed my mind, Artisan. Anya, I’d like you to give Assets Guthrie and Delacruz a reticule on my location.
You want to rendezvous. I felt Wyatt nod.
It’s the best play. Amir doesn’t just set traps. The asshole plays games. I paused. I think this is the next puzzle piece, and I need to collect it.
We can be there in about ten minutes, Hoss. He sounded apologetic. I don’t have a fancy Wraith so I’m slow going.
Copy that. I crouched next to the woman. I can wait.
I peered at the bracelet, growing ever more certain it represented something I required. I felt that, yearned for it. In the place behind my mind, the twinkle of silver moonlight shone.
Yet, I also knew something terrible lay here, a secret I did not wish to know.
2
A WHUF! echoed down the passageway I’d come through.
If the Phothu-nacyi noted the sound, they didn’t indicate it. No, they simply danced in the fountain or stared off into the southeast, as if awaiting some terrible fury, something nameless and without form.
By the time Wyatt and Delacruz arrived onsite, I’d spent the better part of ten minutes pacing around the woman, wondering madly about what lay within that tiny scrap of silver.
You’ve gone completely off the map. You know that, right? Delacruz appeared as a scarlet humanoid token next to me.
Gotta trust me on this guy, Sofia. I shook my head. He thinks around corners. I paused. Gideon knew more about him than I do, honestly, but Amir Cadavas plays games that don’t pay off for years sometimes.
Well, I’m set up about ten meters away from the courtyard, Wyatt linked. I’ve used Rosie to shift the axioms of light in a two-meter radius. I’m invisible, but I can’t move without busting the illusion.
So what’s the play, Mike?
I think simple is best. I shrugged. I’ll slip up beside her and inject her. Depending on how she reacts, I may immediately remove the bracelet.
You should immediately remove the bracelet no matter what, Wyatt poked in. If you don’t, the thing might be destroyed by mecha.
I hadn’t considered that, but Wyatt had a point. Occasionally, clothing was also destroyed by the defensive variables.
Obviously you’re right. So that’s the play. I’ll give her the injection and take the bracelet.
Okay. Delacruz felt confused. What are we supposed to do?
If the Phothu-nacyi don’t do anything, then we’ll figure out a way to sneak Officer Overalls past the courtyard.
They’re not even really overalls anymore, Wyatt lamented. With both of the legs torn off, it’s like I’m wearing overall short-shorts.
Your legs are quite fetching, I agreed. Let’s do this right, so these amphibious assholes never have to see you in all of your sexy glory.
Well now, that would be a shame, and you both know it.
Delacruz said nothing, but I felt her roll her eyes over the link.
Okay, I linked, I’m doing this.
“The forever ones.” The woman rocked back and forth a bit, and I did my best to focus on her face and words. I wanted to remember her as a person. If I glanced down, I would again see the horrific thing that swam inside her, the thing that had transformed her into this inhuman parody.
I don’t know if I’ve ever killed someone by injection for their own good, I linked nervously. I’ve done this dozens of times but never as a mercy.
It’s definitely a mercy, Hoss.
That’s an affirmative, Rachel sent. I would put this poor woman out of her suffering in a heartbeat, were it me.
Do it, man, Wyatt linked. Just get it done.
I crouched next to the woman and took a deep breath, prepared to fill her blood stream with viral mecha her body had no way to cope with. I wanted to say something, to be soothing somehow, but I feared anything from me might send her into crazed fits or give away our presence.
So I injected her.
The spawn within her stomach immediately went apeshit.
It darted and wriggled madly within her.
The woman, who apparently didn’t feel the injection at all, glanced down at her stomach with alarm. She pushed herself backward and began to scream.
Well, that’s that, Wyatt linked. Initiating quick trigger sequences.
“Groak?” One of the wide-eyed Phothu-nacyi glanced over our way, its head movements slow, as if waking from a dream.
As it turned, another blinked slowly and shook its head.
Got it! The bracelet easily broke loose in my fingers, as if it’d been crafted specifically for me. Something FLASHED silver in my mind, igniting moonlight there, setting it aflame. The sensation stunned me and knocked me backward a step.
“Oh…” I looked around stupidly.
The Phothu-nacyi turned in my direction.
“Groooooooak,” one of them gurgled. “Gr-gr-grooooooak.”
The woman fell to her knees, writhing and screaming. Smoke-like mist of viral mecha poured from her eyes and mouth. The abomination in her stomach went wild, trying to push itself free from her.
“Michael Bishop…” The moonlight spoke from somewhere off to my left.
Soft.
Sinister.
Nothing about the way it said my name seemed particularly threatening, yet its tone struck me in the chest, an elemental feeling of smug repugnance.
I turned toward the sound and blinked like a stunned cow.
Off to one side sat a writing desk, situated in a room that appeared to be a personal office.
“What’s a desk doing here?” I said stupidly.
Out loud.
Where the Phothu-nacyi could hear.
Bishop! Delacruz hissed through the link. What the hell, man? They heard that!
I didn’t pay her any particular attention. Someone stood within the shadows of that odd little room and awaited me.
Once I looked, really looked, I saw the truth. No room lay there. It was simply a cover for something else, a falseness designed to lead me astray.
A mask.
Silver moonlight washed over me then, and the Rational world I knew lay somewhere far behind.
3
My new world shimmered, rippled like starlight on water. I felt somewhat disoriented, as if not quite within my own mind.
A lantern on the desk gave off a flickering, soft light, the only illumination in the small room.
“Michael Bishop.” Amir Cadavas sat behind the desk and shuffled through a stack of papers. He wore no mask. “How… pleasant to see you.” The sharpness in his eyes revealed that he too took no pleasure in this meeting.
I snarled and reached for my Stilettos, quick as wind, faster than thought. My eyes widened as I realized…
Gone.
No pistols. No katana.
The pack that rested at my hip, which held my mecha?
Also gone.
Reality rippled around me. Existence blurred.
“Do you remember what I asked you in Istanbul?” He turned his chair toward me.
I stared into his dark eyes.
“What?” My voice warbled, as if I spoke through a cascading river.
“Let me see. It was, ‘Are you here in a dreaming-shape?’” He raised one eyebrow. “Are you some wanderer washed upon our world’s shores?”
His words sent chills through me.
“I know a little of such things, Michael Bishop. Much of my art and mastery comes from secrets I have wrested from shades and other, older things.”
What had he done? I apparently didn’t stand here in body, not physically. So where was I? Had I collapsed back in that courtyard, unresponsive? Did my cadre read me as tech adrift?
“You know I’m going to kill you.” Fury boiled in my heart, dark bile and bitterness. “I’ll kill you once and for all.”
“You’ve promised such before.” He raised an eyebrow. “And yet here we are. Alive.” He shrugged. “Although one of us is more in corpus than the other, yes?”
“Maybe I’ve learned a thing or two. This time won’t be like before.” I lunged forward, more out of pure instinct than anything else. However…
I couldn’t. As if held by some force other than my own will, I couldn’t get any closer to Amir.
“This—” He waved a hand at me. “This is foolishness. I didn’t awaken your dreaming vessel so you could make empty threats. It took a great amount of effort, you know. You shouldn’t waste the opportunity.”
“What…?” I gestured down at myself, my mind awhirl. I hadn’t played this right. If this asshole wanted to talk, maybe he’d give something away. My cadre needed all the intel it could get. I needed to play this cool. “What then, Amir? How did you expect I’d react?”
“Now that is an interesting question.” He folded his hands in his lap and gazed at me shrewdly. “I’ve beckoned you here because I wished to speak with you. I cannot imagine, if I were to simply walk up to you, that you would wish to parlay.”
“I’d probably shatter your fucking teeth again.” I gave him a savage smile. “Not as an attempt to kill you, just to say hello.”
“Quite.” He gestured magnanimously. “That is the reason I have chosen this form of communication.” He smiled sharply. “I like my teeth.”
“So you left your little Irrational gift for me.” I shook my head and tried to push my words past the liquid warbling around me. “Because you’re afraid?”
“Fear does not plague those who wander the Unseen Road,” he said, as if quoting. “I am simply not a fool.”
“So talk.” I crossed my arms. He’d never expect me to behave cordially, but perhaps I could keep him going long enough to learn something.