In a flash, he remembered the egg nestled at the foot of the Gaokerena tree in the mountains. “Alice,” he whispered.
She nodded. “I was rather surprised to see that you’d met her. Fate binds us all together in such unpredictable ways, don’t you think? Like a tangled ball of string. Alice was one of my first human experiments . . . one I had given up on. After I buried her there, in the mountains, I waited for nearly a year. But nothing happened. Eventually, I gave up on her and moved on, but it would seem she simply had a long gestation period.”
He wondered—was that why Alice seemed so much more alive than Olivia? Was she more fully formed? Or was there something else, some deeper difference between them?
She sipped her tea. “In any case . . . the important thing is, I succeeded. I saved Olivia.”
“Father said that when you bring someone back from the dead, it’s not really them.”
“Oh, your father.” Disgust tinged her voice. “His hypocrisy is really stunning. As if he never tried to revive her. His methods were simply less effective.” At the blank look on his face, she raised an eyebrow. “Did he block your memories as well? I suppose he must have. You were always so very suggestible.”
She said it so casually, but the words hit him like a slap. He flinched.
He told himself that she wasn’t being deliberately cruel. She just said things like that, without realizing they hurt. It was how she had always been.
She poured herself more tea. “Olivia’s heart and lungs were crushed in the accident, so your father took her down to his lab, opened her up, and tried to replace the damaged organs with mechanical replicas. He’d been toying with the idea for some time, but he’d only tested it on animals and imps. Of course, this wasn’t strictly legal. Had she lived, she would have been classified as an Abomination. Under the Foundation’s law, it’s forbidden to replace more than twenty-five percent of a human being’s body with artificial parts. Arbitrary, isn’t it? In any case, she died on the table.”
Simon could see it all too easily—Dr. Hawking, his eyes wild and tear-reddened, rooting around frantically in Olivia’s innards.
“Your father is a confused, guilt-addled creature, always wrestling with his own desires and regrets,” she said, resting her chin on her folded fingers. “We’ve both committed the same sin, if you want to use that word. I just sin more gracefully.”
In a sudden flash, Simon remembered the conversation he’d overheard in Neeta’s office. “Those corpses that disappeared from the morgue . . . that was you?”
“I needed materials for my research, of course. But never mind all that. You’re here now, with me . . . and Olivia. I want you to stay, Simon. We’ll be a family again.”
This was like some twisted parody of his deepest, most foolish dream. And despite how wrong it was, a part of him wanted it. Desperately. Even knowing that it was an illusion. “And my father?”
She snorted. “He had his chance to join me, and he refused. Let him sit alone in his laboratory.”
A hot, unexpected rush of anger filled Simon’s chest. He wasn’t sure why he should feel rage on his father’s behalf. Dr. Hawking had lied to him, manipulated him, and betrayed Alice. Yet what right did Veera have to judge him, when she’d left them behind to pursue her own goals? For all his faults, at least Dr. Hawking was there. Veera had simply left them both floundering in the dark pit of their own misery. “Four years with no contact,” he said quietly. “When Olivia died, I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I wished over and over that I had died in her place. I needed you more than ever, and you were gone. And you expect everything to be all right? For me to just smile and accept this?”
She hesitated. “I’m here now,” she said softly. There was a note of pleading in her voice—something he’d never heard there before. Something almost like regret. “Isn’t that enough?”
He wanted it to be. But it wasn’t.
For so long, his deepest desire had been to return to the past—to the time before Olivia’s death. To regain what the universe had taken from him. But things had changed. Regaining his lost mother and sister would mean losing everything else. More than that, it would mean running away from the world. The real world. To whatever this was.
“I can’t stay,” Simon whispered.
Her eyes widened. “Simon . . .”
“I’ll keep your secret,” Simon said. “I won’t tell anyone about you, or this place. But in return, I want you to help me save Alice.”
Her expression tightened. “It’s too late for her, Simon. By now they’ve probably taken her to Grunewick Laboratory. Best to forget her.”
His mouth went dry. “What?” he whispered. “But Grunewick is . . .”
“Abandoned?” She gave him a thin, bitter smile, which faded quickly. “That’s the official story, yes. But it’s still in use as a secret prison.”
“I’ve been inside it. It’s empty.”
“Parts of it, yes, to deflect suspicion. The rest is sealed off. Any Abominations discovered by the Foundation are taken there to be . . . studied . . . before the public can learn of their existence. No one has ever escaped.”
“Studied,” he repeated. “What do you mean?”
She looked away. “Dissected, usually.”
He felt sick.
“I’m sorry,” Veera said, avoiding his gaze.
Simon was shaking—not with fear, but with anger. He planted his hands on the table. “Alice is your creation. You brought her back. Don’t you feel any sense of responsibility to her?”
Her shoulders tensed. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“If you’re too much of a coward to help her, then I will. Send me there, to Grunewick.”
“I already lost a child once,” she snapped. “I broke the laws of man and nature to bring her back. And you want me to send you into the jaws of death? No.”
Simon’s breathing quickened. He felt something bubbling under the surface, churning beneath his skin. The room began to shake.
Veera leaped to her feet. “Simon!”
He faced her, hands balled into fists. “I’m not asking for your permission.”
“Simon.” Her eyes were wide. Frightened. “Please. Calm down.”
He took a deep, unsteady breath and forced the seething energy down, deeper into himself. His limbs shook. He’d felt the power. But this time there had been no door, no shadow-thing, no cathedral of bones. That dark energy was just there, within reach. He’d felt it earlier, too, in Blackthorn.
It could only mean one thing: the spell his father had implanted was gone. There were no more barriers to restrain his power. What would that mean for the future?
No time to worry about that now. “Send me to Grunewick,” he said quietly.
A flash of pain crossed Veera’s face. “You choose her over me, then? Over Olivia? Does she really mean more to you than your own family? Or . . . do you hate me that much?”
He tried to ignore the ache in his chest. “I’ll always love you,” he said. “But I can’t abandon Alice. I won’t. I’m the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.”
“If you die, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to bring you back. There are certain conditions. The body must be intact, it must be well-preserved—”
“I don’t want to be brought back. I don’t want to forget who I am. If I die, I die.”
Silence. She stared at him with a puzzled, slightly uneasy expression, as though she no longer quite recognized him. “I forget, sometimes, that time passes differently for adults than it does for children. To me, four years does not seem so long. It was gone in the space of a breath. But now look at you. A man.” She let out a flat, soft laugh and shook her head. “Somehow, I didn’t think it would happen. Not to you.”
Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. “Mother . . . I have to go, no matter what . . . but if you help me, maybe I’ll at least have a chance.” When she said nothing, he added, “Please.”
She rubbed her forehead.
Her eyes were wet and shiny; she blinked them a few times, chasing away the dampness. “I can transport you into Grunewick,” she whispered, “but that’s all. There are hundreds of prison cells. I don’t know where this girl is being held.”
“I’ll find her.”
She nodded. Slowly, she approached. “Take this.” She removed her faded cloak and handed it to him. “It will mask your meta, help you pass undetected.”
He slipped into the cloak, fastened the clasp, and pulled the hood up.
“There’s no guarantee that she’s even still alive, you know,” Veera said.
“I know.”
“There will be guards there. You may have to fight. To kill. Do you think you’re capable of that?”
He hesitated. He thought about taking a life with his own hands, watching the awareness fade from someone’s eyes. The guards at Grunewick were involved in something cruel and wicked, but still, they probably had families, loved ones. Killing a human being meant orphaning children, leaving behind grieving spouses, parents, friends.
But the alternative was to abandon Alice. If he was going to do this, there was no point in doing it halfway. In the past, he would have hesitated, held back, wondered if this was the right choice. But the time for doubt was over. He knew the truth about who he was now. And he had someone to protect.
“Yes,” he said.
“Then take this, as well.” She drew a knife from a scabbard at her hip, which had until then been hidden under her cloak. The entire thing, blade and hilt, was a mottled brownish white, like old bone—maybe it was bone—and curved. The hilt was intricately carved to resemble a coiled serpent, the blade emerging from its open jaws.
“The Dagger of Yig, the serpent god,” she said, “carved from one of his fangs, if the legend is true.” She ran a finger lightly along its length. “It can cut through anything.” She placed the dagger in his hand. “Use it well.”
Simon curled his fingers around the hilt. The blade was smooth, like ancient, finely grained wood. His skin tingled where it touched the weapon. This dagger was steeped in ancient strength; he could feel it.
Simon had never expected to carry a weapon like this. Such things were only for experienced, skilled Animists. An unexpected lump filled his throat.
Veera unbuckled the belt and scabbard from her waist and handed it to him.
He fastened it around his own waist and slid the dagger into its scabbard. “Thank you,” he whispered. He had to swallow a few times before he could speak again. “I . . . I hope I’ll see you again.”
“I can’t promise that.” She stood, arms crossed over her chest, gaze downcast. “Simon . . . there are dangers you can’t imagine in that place. The dagger may not be enough.”
Simon’s breath caught. His muscles tensed. “I can’t use my power.” The words caught in his throat. “Father said—”
“I know what he thinks. But Chaos isn’t evil.”
“It killed Olivia.”
She flinched, but only a little. “Fire can kill, too, when it slips out of its master’s hands. But fire also gives warmth, life, when handled with skill and care. Chaos is far stronger and older than any earthly power, but it is like fire—or gravity, or entropy. A natural force, no more good or evil than the stars. Perhaps a bit more . . . mischievous. In a cosmic sense.”
“I suppose that’s one word for it,” he muttered.
“It’s risky, of course. But you already understand that. Just . . . try to stay alive.”
“Believe me, I don’t want to die.” He gave her an unsteady smile.
She leaned forward and embraced him, enveloping him in the scent of herbs. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” she whispered.
He wrapped his arms around her slender form, knowing this might be the last time he ever saw her. He closed his eyes. “My mind is made up.”
She pulled back, brushing at her eyes with the back of one hand. “Then you’d best go.”
“How do I—?”
“Like this.” She closed her fingers over his, around the hilt of the dagger, and drew it slowly downward, leaving a glowing green line in the air. She worked her fingers into the slit in reality and pried it open. Beyond lay a dimly lit corridor, still framed by a flickering, wavering boundary of luminous green. Simon took a breath, facing the portal. Once he stepped through, there was truly no going back.
“Do you want to say goodbye to Olivia?” Veera asked.
Simon hesitated.
There were so many things he wanted to ask his sister. Did she still like hot chocolate, and daffodils, and splashing in puddles after a rainstorm? Did they even have daffodils in the Eldritch Realm?
But there was no time. With every second that ticked by, his chances of saving Alice dwindled a little more. And Olivia had her own existence here, now. She didn’t need him. Whatever they’d had between them, as siblings, had been wiped away. The dead do not come back. In a way, maybe, his father was right. “Just . . . just tell her to live a good life. That I love her and hope she’s happy here. Tell her that I’ll always think of her, but it’s all right if she doesn’t think of me. It’s enough, just knowing that she’s safe.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Fresh tears briefly blurred his vision. He wiped them discreetly away and steeled himself. He couldn’t afford to feel anything—not now.
“Go,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his back.
Before he could change his mind, he stepped through the portal. The hole in the air sealed itself shut.
He was alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Simon stood in a narrow corridor lit by gas lamps in bronze wall sconces.
He didn’t know what he’d expected. A dungeon? Stone walls and iron chains?
Grunewick looked strangely ordinary; it might have been any old house. The walls were a dingy off-white, the paint peeling and flaking away in places. The floors were of gray, weathered wood.
His own breathing echoed harshly in his ears. He gulped in a breath and held it, listening. Faint noises—they might have been voices, but it was difficult to say—echoed from somewhere below. The hairs on his neck prickled and stood on end.
Nothing to do but start walking.
He crept forward, gripping his demon dagger. His cloak swirled around him. Its colors, he noticed, had shifted to the same dirty white as the walls, blending in with his surroundings. He pulled the hood up. Icy sweat trickled down his sides.
He passed a dark wooden door with a tiny, barred window and paused. On the other side, something glowed with an eerie bluish light. He peered inside.
A glass cylinder ran from floor to ceiling, filled with luminous liquid. Inside floated a silver-scaled form resembling an eel with a woman’s head, mouth crammed with needle-sharp teeth. Dark hair floated around her pale face. Her eyes were milky white, opaque as boiled eggs. She pressed her face against the glass, mouth open.
He backed rapidly away and forced himself to keep walking. His heart knocked against his chest.
Alice, he thought. Find Alice.
Behind another door, a man laughed, a high-pitched, jagged sound. There was a thump, and the door shuddered. Through the bars, he glimpsed a face like melted wax, dull eyes within pockets of drooping flesh. Two mouths snarled and gibbered.
Abominations.
All this time, he thought. All these years, the Foundation had been lying to the public about this place. He’d spent his life believing that, whatever its flaws, the Foundation had the people’s best interest at heart. He’d defended them.
Simon turned a corner, stopped, and counted his breaths. Focus.
He walked past more cells, checking each one briefly. He tried to ignore the inhuman snorts and howls from behind the doors, the pale fingers stretching through the tiny, barred windows. An overpowering sense of despair emanated from all around him, pressing in on him like something tangible. These poor creatures. He could see no glint of awareness in their rolling eyes, yet he could hear the ca
ged-animal misery in their wails. Where had they all come from? How long had they been here? Had they been born in this place, or . . . ?
Vague conspiracies and rumors about abductions and secret government experiments flitted through his head. He pushed the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to get distracted now, but he had a feeling he’d only scratched the surface of everything he didn’t know about the Foundation.
The hallway ended in a single door. He approached it and pressed his ear to the rough wood.
Behind the door, something moved; metal scraped. “Who’s there?” called a voice . . . hoarse and cracked with pain, but unmistakable.
He closed his eyes briefly as a rush of overpowering relief swept through him. He wasn’t too late.
“It’s me,” he whispered.
“Simon!”
“Shhh.” He studied the keyhole. How to open the door? Maybe the dagger . . .
“Simon, listen.” Her voice trembled. “You have to get out of here. These people will kill you.”
“I’m not leaving you.” He forced the tip of the dagger into the keyhole and turned it with a grunt of effort. The lock broke with a snap, and the door sprang open. Alice was curled in the corner, clad in the tattered remains of her cloak, dark circles under her eyes, a heavy iron collar around her neck, matching manacles around her wrists and ankles.
He dropped into a crouch and quickly sliced off the collar and manacles. The blade glowed green, cutting through the iron as though it were cheese. The skin beneath was reddened and chafed, pearled with blood. “Oh, Alice . . .”
“Never mind.” Her eyes were wild, white-edged. She was breathing rapidly. “We have to go. Now. Before they . . .” The words melted into a low, pained groan.
Behind him, he heard a rustle of cloth. He froze, stomach dropping, then slowly turned.
A white-robed, hooded form stood in the hallway, the lower half of its face covered by a pale leather mask, eyes lost in shadow. Simon raised the dagger, gripping the hilt tightly with both hands. The figure tilted its head.
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