Smoke & Mirrors

by C. L. Schneider

  I swallowed my fear and focused on what I knew.

  There was no creature-smell, no click-click of claws on the floor as they circled their prey. No brush of the stunted creature’s whip-like tails. Naalish was adept at illusion. Either the nageun were chained out of reach, or they weren’t real. Regardless, the fact that their razor teeth weren’t sinking into me was the only bright spot in an otherwise shitty day.

  I clung to it as the darkness dragged on.

  Thirty-Two

  The cold had slowed the healing of my aches and pains, making time impossible to keep. In my best estimate, I’d been shivering in the dark for at least twenty-four hours. Occasional bouts of unconsciousness broke the monotony, but I hated the unknown.

  I thought seeing would be better.

  But as I woke, this time, to light, it was too blinding even to open my eyes. Doing so without pain took a few tries, as I squinted at the big, bright bulbs affixed in the corners of the ceiling. Their glare bounced mercilessly off the mirrored panels layering the room. Covering nearly every inch of the walls, ceiling, and portions of the floor, the glass granted me an all-angle view of my accommodations.

  I was sitting in what amounted to a hydraulic dentist’s chair. The back was slightly reclined. Leads and wires were attached to me at various points. A long tube ran from the needle in my neck to a bladder hanging off a standing pole. I was too lucid for it to be nageun venom, but the slight drag on my sight and the bright blue coloring indicated the liquid dripping into the tube wasn’t saline.

  Someone had removed the grimy remnants of my costume during my last nap. I wasn’t Cinderella anymore. I’d been bathed and dressed in the garb of a Guild operative. It was an updated uniform, like what Brynne wore, with the knee-high boots, pleated skirt and cropped, backless top. My hair was washed and in a high braid.

  If I got out of this alive, I was keeping the boots.

  First, I had to get past the dragon in the room.

  Naalish was in human form again, her pale skin wrapped in a long, sleeveless dress made from the silvery-gray leather of some hapless creature. Cut for movement, the garment was slit on the sides, though nowhere as high as the Cleopatra costume she’d flaunted at the mayor’s gala. The lacings on the front and back were cinched tight around her curves. I would have been in awe of her beauty, if I didn’t know the depth of cruelty in her heart.

  I glanced at my uniform and grunted. “You wish.”

  Naalish smiled. “Re-joining us will soon be your desire, too.”

  “Not unless you turn my mind into a puddle of goo and I come out like Ronan or Brynne. But everyone’s entitled to a glitch now and then.” I lowered my voice to a taunting whisper. “Unless you’re losing your touch?”

  “In hindsight,” she said, lifting her chin, “I was heavy-handed with Ronan, and Brynne was psychologically damaged to begin with. Attempting to manipulate her was…”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is mistake?”

  “I don’t make mistakes, Dahlia. Oversights, miscalculations, perhaps. In the end, Brynne was a problem in need of solving. Bastian came to wear the same, unfortunate label. Your interference, however, dissolved the crises they created with few resources and minimal issues.”

  “These must be some top-notch drugs, because it sounded like you’re praising me for fucking up your operations.”

  “Watch your tongue, little one. Belligerence only serves to anger me. And I’m sure you remember where that leads?” Sauntering closer, Naalish turned a dial on the bladder. The valve opened, and the stream moved faster through the tube. My thoughts moved slower. “Your skills have already been withered by human influence. Diminishing them further, out of spite. would be foolish. Torturing you into submission and rebuilding you into something usable is time consuming. I thought, instead, with some induced compliance, a reminder of what you are and what’s at stake, we might come to an arrangement.”

  “An arrangement where I surrender my will and do your bidding?”

  “You are lyrriken, born of our will, for our needs. Placing your wants above ours, developing your own moral code, believing you’re entitled to decisions; humanity has corrupted you to the core with their notion of free thought. But you are not the only child who has been misguided.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Other lyrriken have become difficult, of late, particularly after long-term implantation on the human world. They question and resist. They test me. One dared to cite you as an example of what a lyrriken should be…until I ripped off her head.”

  I was shocked. Not about the head-ripping. That was normal. Far less, that dissent had grown among my kind. There were lyrriken who lived outside the city, whose loose following of the laws was tolerated because it harmed no one. But for trusted Guild operatives to rebel against the queen—in my name… I didn’t know what to do with that, except smile. “They’ve stopped rolling over at your feet. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “And you won’t. I would exterminate the entire lyrriken population before ever allowing them autonomy. Which is why your flagrant insolence is unacceptable. Your empathic gifts need controlling and honing. Your defiance of my reign must end, Dahlia, before more damage is done. Once you return to me of your own volition, they will no longer see your rebellious nature as inspiration.”

  “My own volition…” My throat was parched, but I chuckled anyway. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

  “It means,” she tensed, “I was hoping to keep the unpleasantness to a minimum.”

  “Well, you’ve already failed on that one.”

  “Would you prefer to be the catalyst for the ruin of your entire race?”

  “Don’t be such a drama queen. I think we both know, I’m no one’s muse. And you won’t destroy your flock of lyrriken children, no matter how much they talk back. Without us, who would brush your hair and shine your scales?”

  “Survival often requires sacrifice and adjustment. A lesson you would do well to learn,” she said with a tilt of her head. “Compassion and responsibility run deep within you, little one. By directing its focus, I will help you to see the gravity of your past actions and the significance of those in your future. And you will choose Drimera. You will choose to serve me.”

  “You wouldn’t be pulling punches unless you wanted something. Something you’re afraid you won’t get if I’m damaged in the process.”

  “My desire is only to preserve Drimera. You possess the means to aid me in seeing it done.” I had a guess. But her involuntary glance at the pendant confirmed it. “Your watered-downed mental abilities are nothing compared to a dragon’s. It will take much discipline and training for you to connect with the eye and learn what must be done. I had hoped to make use of the piece myself,” Naalish admitted. “My psychic gifts are considerable. But I’ve come to accept my attempts would be futile.”

  “Because you’re not empathic.”

  “Correct. The mental pathways needed to access Yaslynne’s residual powers are operational strictly in an empath. In time, another elder may be born with the gift, but for now, you are all we have. Which is why I’m attempting to soften your resolve with less-damaging methods—such as honesty.”

  “It really must be the end of the world,” I muttered.

  “If you unlock Yaslynne’s powers, you will set an example that will bring all lyrriken back in line. You will save them from extinction and save Drimera from a fate many worlds have already suffered. With your help, Dahlia, we can seal our borders once and for all.”

  “Seal them?” Her hardline tactics were starting to make sense. “Queen Yaslynne could close exits as well as open them, couldn’t she?”

  “It was theorized, after her execution, that Yaslynne possessed the power to reverse the damage that she had done. But there was no way to prove it. Until now. If we burn away the disease that’s here, and you close the exits, no more can come through.”

  “Nothing can come
through,” I said. “Ever again.”

  “And Drimera will finally be pure.”

  “And everyone else gets fucked? This is what you’ve been preparing for. Executing trespassers and kicking everyone off-world—this is why you didn’t stop me from going after the Market. You didn’t care if I killed Gant because you didn’t plan on needing him anymore.”

  “Arno was valuable in my recent efforts to ‘clean house’, but his mental instabilities were tiresome. And his knowledge of Drimera was as risky as his powers. I couldn’t shut us off until he was dealt with. You were the perfect tool to see it done.”

  “He told you I had the necklace, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, Arno was most excited about your visit. He wanted to recruit you. Though, I knew there was only one reason you’d ever approach him. Just as I knew, once you set your mind to it, Arno had no chance. But you should have killed him, Dahlia. You know better than to let a monster be taken alive.”

  Still stuck on the revelation of her endgame, I said, “If I can learn to do what you say, the other worlds don’t have to suffer. I can help them, too. I can help everyone.”

  “Except, you don’t belong to everyone. You belong to me. And there is time before such a critical stage comes to pass. There are some brilliant minds among the humans. One might yet find a way.”

  “And if they don’t? You claim by joining you, I can save the lyrriken now. But what’s the point? If you seal us off from the humans, my kind can’t be born.”

  “Cooperate, and I will allow a small number to reside on Drimera, solely for the purpose of continuing your species.”

  That she was even pretending to negotiate was telling. But there was something in her stance… She’s lying. And not just about the humans. It was something else, something deeper. “There’s more to it. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Naalish placed a hand on my arm. I expected mockery, a biting remark, or feigned praise. Instead, her fingers scaled. Claws jutted and pushed into my skin. She tore them loose with a jerk of ripped flesh. Blood hit with a wet splatter on the mirrored walls.

  “Lesson one,” she said, as I worked to swallow the pain. “Never question me. And never, ever presume to know the workings of my mind. Elder brains are too superior for a lyrriken to comprehend. As proof…we have had this conversation five times.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Five times, we’ve started out speaking calmly. Like this. Five times, you’ve moved onto blustering and resisting. You rage and argue, and struggle and bleed, over and over, until you ultimately face what’s inside you. You have yet to surrender, but the process has grown shorter each time. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “No... I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m not lying to you, Dahlia.”

  “You always lie. It hasn’t been—”

  “I’m afraid it has.”

  “How…?” I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form the words.

  Her eyes sparkling with satisfaction, she said, “Do you have a question?”

  I forced it out. “How long? How many days have I been here?”

  “Humans and their obsession with the passage of time,” she uttered in disgust. “Another nasty habit you’ve acquired.”

  “How many fucking—”

  “Nearly eight weeks. But not to worry,” Naalish said, talking over my gasp. “All those loose ends you left behind in the Sentinel? I tied them for you.”

  I swallowed, wishing I didn’t believe her. “What have you done?”

  “I finished your job and took care of Arno. As soon as he was able, the poor man stuffed his own hospital bedsheet down his throat until he could no longer breathe. It seems he preferred death over imprisonment.”

  “No one will believe that.”

  “They already have. There was no evidence to the contrary. In fact, there’s little evidence at all. Most of his clients were discredited. The rest recanted their statements or disappeared. Mayor Anderson had an unfortunate accident with a malfunctioning elevator at the courthouse. Wrong place, wrong time, I believe, is the phrase? He didn’t make it.”

  “Why pretend to be his girlfriend if you planned on killing him?”

  “I had no intention of killing Karl. He was so nice and malleable. You forced me to terminate him prematurely when you exposed his involvement with the Market. His death is on you, Dahlia.”

  “Sure. Why not?” I glared at her. “What’s one more?”

  “I’m afraid the rest unraveled rather rapidly. And with the failure to apprehend, or even identify, the killer of that pretty, young officer, the public demanded someone be held accountable for the inept handling of the case.”

  “Alex. What did you do to him?”

  “Me? That man’s undoing was his own. He could have taken the suspension he was given. He didn’t need to quit. Though, it must have weighed on him, knowing he was handpicked by a corrupt mayor, to run an inept program that cost the life of one of its own.”

  “You’re lying. Alex Creed would never turn in his badge.”

  “He had no reason to stay. The task force was temporarily disbanded pending a full investigation by the interim mayor. The press wouldn’t let it go, especially after he punched a reporter outside his home. And without you, there was no one to vouch for him.”

  “He won’t accept that I disappeared. He’ll look for me.”

  “No,” she grimaced, “your letter of resignation was clear. As was your message to the one you’ve been hunting with, telling him you’re leaving town and not to look for you. He took your absence hard, I’m afraid. But he moved on. They all did. You’re nothing but a closed chapter in their lives. Even Oren’s.” When I didn’t ask, spite tightened her gaze. “Who do you think ordered the ambulance?”

  “No.” Oren had lost a great deal of my trust, but I couldn’t believe he would ever hand me over for torture. “You’re full of shit!”

  “Oren is a high-ranking Guild mage. He has much to lose by disobeying. And he understands my claim to you. He may miss you, but he’s moved on. They all have. You’re nothing but an insignificant chapter in their miserable, little lives.”

  “You had no right—”

  “I had every right. The rope I gave you—the rope you took when you sought sanctuary in the human world—has been severed. There’s nothing left for you there.”

  Rage and sorrow tied my tongue. Helplessness and acceptance sunk deep into my chest, making each breath hurt. It’s all gone, I thought. All of it. The life I’d struggled to build; the only one I’d ever had; Naalish had ripped it to shreds. Weeks ago.

  My stomach pushed up into my throat, as I realized, It’s too late. Too much time had passed. Even if I got free, I couldn’t fix the damage.

  It was done. Over. Gone. All of it is gone.

  Afraid of her answer, I forced the tremble from my throat, and asked “Are they safe? Did you hurt them?”

  “No, Dahlia. You hurt them, with your sudden, callous departure. You turned your back and walked away like they never mattered. It’s a shame they didn’t see it coming. But you did. Nothing good lasts forever.” Naalish pulled an electronic device from her dress pocket. “But all that is behind you now. It’s time to look forward, to remember what you are.”

  With the push of a button, the room came alive. As sound and motion played all around me, I understood what the glass panels were for. They weren’t mirrors. They were monitors. And I was all over them: thrashing, screaming, and raving like a wild woman. Blood streaked my skin from all manner of wounds. Drugs glazed the madness in my eyes.

  Naalish turned up the volume, and my raw, raspy screams bounced and echoed louder. Shrieks gave way to sobs and begging; pleading to belligerent, vile rants. Whimpered admissions of my crimes and defects devolved into testimonials of regret and shame.

  More defiance and thrashing followed. And the loop repeated.

  What had she done to me?

  I tried to hold onto the outrage boiling in m
y veins, to deny what I was seeing. I didn’t recall a moment of what was staring at me on the screens. It can’t be real. That can’t be me.

  But fear was inching to the surface. And there was no escaping the sound of my own pain blasting through the speakers—or the anguish of my acceptance, as the many versions of me realized the scope and tragedy of my mistakes.

  So many lives taken. So many I’d failed to save.

  Jobs that went bad. Monsters who got away.

  Innocents who paid the price for my ineptitude.

  I’d been a fool to bring Evans into the fold; to think I could dangle the truth in front of Creed without repercussion. Their lives were scarred now because of me.

  Sobbing, I shook my head, trying to reject the dark sentiments. I knew the drug-induced, visual and audible distortions were upping my anxiety and feeding my doubts, but I couldn’t ignore them. They were part of me. And Naalish was right. I never belonged among the humans. I never fit in. I didn’t deserve their world. There was no life for me outside the Guild.

  I should never have left.

  I’m not fit to make my own decisions.

  I don’t know how to be a friend.

  I have no right to wield the eye on my own.

  The eye…

  It was like the strike of a hammer. That single thought crashed through my emotional crisis with the speed of a bullet, and the pendant flared hot. Skin tingled and stung where the setting rested. A sound like white noise obliterated my recorded screams. I closed my eyes, refusing to acknowledge my many reflections, and a sense of calm moved in. It dampened my anxieties and quelled my agitated ghosts, just enough for me to understand.

  The queen had attempted to use them against me. And it nearly worked.

  Naalish had held me captive here for weeks, repeatedly exposing all I’d done wrong and all that was inside me. Each time, my ghosts rose to take control. And I let them. I beat myself up and retreated. I ran. I hid.

  It was close to happening again—and again and again.