Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Penny, who looked much better now that she’d gotten a series of real showers, a lot of food into her, and was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail like a normal kid, nodded vigorously. She was a cute little thing actually, with long, black, wavy hair, and coffee-colored skin, and had been no trouble at all. Gilead paid no attention to her. So far as she was concerned, kids obeyed adults, not the other way around.

  And this kid was with an adult who looked like she should be occupying a bed here, and who was showing all the expression of a block of granite. Vickie was getting used to those looks. Three hours of sleep was all she could manage before either screaming nightmares or uncontrollable weeping woke her. As for eating, well, it wasn’t happening. Coffee and canned liquid meals stayed put, but nothing else did. And it didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Eight up to full speed, then…

  I won’t be blindsided again, Doppelgaenger, you bitch. When you come for me, I’m coming armed to the teeth. Nobody’s walking away this time.

  For now, though, she was keeping herself frozen, because if she allowed herself to feel anything, she’d lose it, and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be getting control or even sanity back any time soon.

  “Most specifically, Penny’s Invisible Friend is pretty adamant about talking with Gautier, and now, not later,” she continued.

  Gilead now gave her one of the oddest looks she’d ever gotten in a lifetime of odd looks. Vickie shrugged. “It’s a ghost. He’ll still be a ghost whether or not you believe in them. Penny says he says he has to talk to Mel or she’s never going to get better. I’m going to make that happen.”

  Gilead opened her mouth to say something. Vickie cut her off. Rude, maybe, but she didn’t care anymore about social niceties. Every moment wasted was energy, time, and effort wasted. “Penny says Mel can’t hurt her. I know for a fact she can’t hurt either of us, for that matter. Now let us in there. Please,” she added, but only because Eight chided her on her private channel. Gilead gave her the stink-eye. “And please don’t make me call Blues for authorization. She’ll give it to me, but it’ll take an argument, and we’re on the freaking clock. I’ve got fifty things that have to get done, and until I get Eight where Eight needs to be, there’s only one of me to do them.”

  When Gilead gave her a skeptical look instead of a reply, she choked down anger—no, rage—and elaborated. “Doppelgaenger knows who I am, what I am and where I am, Red inadvertently made it clear I’m important, and it’s only a matter of time before she makes another try for me. And even if he hadn’t, it’s pretty clear the bitch likes to make people hurt, so I’d be a target no matter what. So please do not waste time I may not have.” I managed to say Red’s name without melting down. Go me.

  Gilead opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head, and tossed up her hands in defeat. “First Ben, now you. Is everybody going to make a habit of overruling me?”

  Vickie took that as the go-ahead to escort Penny into Mel’s room. Illusions were part and parcel of a mage’s bag of tricks, and she was pretty damned sure the protections she’d cast on both of them would shield them from anything Gautier could produce. She’d already given Penny a shield against angry, nasty spirits that would do until Penny learned how to send such things packing herself. So the two of them walked right into the room, Penny trailing a little behind Vickie, without even trying to avert their eyes from the figure on the bed.

  Mel…was a mess. This was the first time Vickie’d had a good look at her; back at Doppelgaenger’s playpen, she hadn’t exactly been paying a lot of attention to the illusionist—the only thing she’d really noticed was the stump where a hand should have been. But now, the bandages everywhere, and the IV drip made it pretty clear Doppelgaenger had been having a fine old sadistic time with Mel.

  Which means…Red…was…

  She clamped down her self-control, hard, clenching her jaw until she thought her teeth might splinter, until the numb, icy calm came back. Meanwhile little Penny, oblivious to the tumult going on inside her, eyed the woman who lay there so quietly with her eyes closed. Penny’s expression was hard to read; half the time Vickie had no idea what she was thinking. This was a kid who’d learned to keep her feelings to herself way too early. I hope once she learns enough from me and Caspar to handle being a medium on her own, she gets an adult who’s got more empathy to spare for her than I do. On the other hand…the poor kid was just one more casualty of war. There were a lot like her out there. War brought out the best and the worst in people, and there were a lot of abused or abandoned kids around. Hell, between the ones DG had, and the ones from Zach Marlowe’s Project, ECHO had enough abused, abandoned kids with powers to start a school. This kid just happened to see ghosts that had abused her.

  Finally the little girl stepped towards the bed. Not too close, but closer than Vickie wanted to get, though that was more her own twitchiness about the shape Mel was in, not any fear of what Mel might do. “Miz Gautier?” she said, in her high, soft voice. “I dunno if you ’member me. I’m Penny. I thought your name was Lacey, ’cuz that’s all you’d say. Lacey Moan Alley. I kinda tried to help you, but I couldn’t figger out how.” She swallowed hard, but continued bravely. “I know how to help you now, though. Miz Vickie’s helping me. So’s our friend.”

  Mel sighed and her eyes remained closed. “Hey, Penny. I…I wish I could say I remember you completely, but my brain doesn’t quite know what was real, what I tried to forget was real, and what I tried to make up to get through what was real.” She shifted against the pillows, away from where Penny stood. “And if I did anything to hurt you in there, I’m truly sorry.”

  “Mel, it’s Vix. I’m here too. Open your eyes, there’s no freaking way you can hurt us.” She looked around and scowled at the closed blinds. “Jesus Cluny Frog, let’s get some sunlight in here so you don’t start asking for Depeche Mode and the Smiths on infinite loop.” Suiting action to words, she opened the blinds with a brisk tug.

  It took a moment, but Mel cracked open one eye and promptly squinted in the afternoon light. She gave it a few seconds before doing the same with the other, then rolled to face her visitors. At the sight of Vickie, Mel visibly recoiled. “Damn, did you come in from just down the hall? Who put you on duty?”

  “She put herself on duty,” Gilead called from the doorway. “I’m going to curl myself around a coffee while you three chat. Everything’s being recorded, for all the good it will do. Just don’t wear each other out. We can’t fit three beds in here.”

  The doctor slipped out, muttering to herself. Mel waited to speak until the footsteps had faded down the hallway. Vickie held up a hand. “Four. There’s four of us here.”

  “Who’s the fourth?” Mel glanced from the mage to the kid. “I only see the pair of you.”

  “Penny’s a medium. She’s got a ghost with her that has a very urgent and particular interest in you. I’m here to help with the Mel can’t see ghosts part. Once we’re done with that, you can ask all the questions you want, but from what Penny tells me, her Invisible Friend is practically gnawing his own arm off to get to you.” She rubbed her reddened eyes. “Eight tells me I should be more polite, but I’m pretty short on energy, nerves, and patience, and the field where I grow my fucks is barren.”

  “All right.” Mel lifted her bandaged arm, realized that there was nothing there to itch her nose, and switched to the other one. “As long as you’re sure that I can’t hurt you or her, I’m willing to work with you. Don’t really have much to lose now.”

  “Illusions are among the first things a mage learns, right after lighting a candle and figuring out which element you can best pull your magic energy from. Anything you can do, I can get rid of.” She looked down at the little girl. “Your buddy ready, Penny?”

  The child nodded, her ponytail bobbing. “He’s right there,” she said, pointing to Mel’s bedside.

  “Thanks.” Vickie closed her eyes a moment, and held
her hands before her, about a foot apart and chest-high, palms facing. She whispered something under her breath. And something very like fog began to form between them.

  The fog moved as if it was a living thing, sending out a questing tendril, which seemed to find what it was looking for, as the tendril darted to a spot right at Mel’s bedside. Soon the tendril was a conduit, and more and more of the fog streamed from between Vickie’s hands to that spot, then spread out as if it was filling an invisible shape. A man-shaped shape. A shape that became less a shape and more a figure with every passing moment. A figure, if Mel had only known it, that looked to be the next of kin to the ectoplasmic Tesla and Marconi “upgrades.”

  This was, of course, because Vickie was producing ectoplasm for a ghost that didn’t know how to make it, but instinctively knew how to use it.

  The young man—quite clearly visible now, even in the strong sunlight coming from the window—held up his hands and gazed at them in surprise, then grinned widely. “Ah’ll be go t’Hell,” came a whispery voice full of wonder. “Damn if it didn’t work!”

  “Told you,” Vickie muttered, still concentrating. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here as the facilitator.”

  Mel’s lower lip quavered. She stared at the figure sitting on her bedside, but spoke to Penny. “This is who you saw? This is the one you said is ‘my ghost,’ the one who’s been hanging around me back…back there?”

  Penny nodded again. “He said he couldn’ ’member his name. He says ghosts start forgettin’ things. He came fer you, but he was helpin’ me, too.”

  “Figures. As for names, I’m not surprised he forgot. That’s why his momma sewed it in all his underwear.” She smirked at her new visitor. “Riley. Jackson Lee Riley, to be exact.”

  “Hey,” the ghost protested. “Ah’m sittin’ right here, y’know!”

  Mel chuckled, but it turned into a sad sound that wasn’t quite crying. She started to reach for Riley, but stopped inches from his knee. “How long have you been around? It’s been awhile since…since you were around.”

  The ghost considered her question. “Time don’t mean quite what it used to, but I tried to get here when I could. When you got in trouble, that is. When I did, she was there with you. And Ah’m pretty sure you didn’t hurt her, or any of ’em. Scared ’em, mebbe, but didn’t hurt ’em.”

  “But how did you—”

  The ghost leaned forward, the gauzy outline of his forehead inches from hers. Mel didn’t pull away, although her eyes closed and she bowed her head. “Revvie, it ain’t the how, it’s the why. There’s stuff you need to know, right down in your gut, that you ain’t got straight yet. Like, that just because crap happens, that don’t mean it’s your fault that it did. Like, just because you got through somethin’, an’ someone else didn’t, that don’t mean you shoulda been the one that took the bullet. What you need to know is that it ain’t your time, and that it ain’t gonna be your time for a long while. No matter what they put you through, it ain’t gonna be your time.”

  Mel folded in on herself, her form blurring Riley’s edge. “So…what? This is some kind of penance I’ve got to pay for letting you and the rest of the team down? That’s why I gotta stay behind?”

  “Now, that’s just bullshit. This ain’t about punishment. This is about makin’ sure the best of us remains and becomes stronger.”

  “But…”

  “You don’t get to sit around and worry about what you shoulda done or who didn’t make it home. I know you made sure that everyone knew what happened and that you were respectful about it, ’cause that’s who you are.” He paused and tried to position himself in her line of sight. “You’re still here, and that’s what matters. That’s what was s’posed to happen, Revvie. It’s okay.”

  The last two words broke Mel’s composure. She dissolved into exhausted tears, falling forward until her head appeared to rest on Riley’s knee. The ghost glanced to Penny and shrugged. “Better that she hear it from me than anybody else, kiddo. Grown-ups can cry pretty ugly at times.”

  “I wisht I could do somethin’,” Penny agreed, looking sad. “I can’t help Miz Vickie neither.”

  A single tear ran down Vickie’s right cheek from her closed eye. “Not your fault, kid,” Vickie replied in a choked voice. “What he promised and what he could actually do are two different things. It is what it is.”

  “But I don’ think—” Penny began, and stopped, and sighed. “I’ll keep tryin’, anyway, okay?”

  “Don’t wear yourself out,” Vickie said. “Better you concentrate on Riley and Gautier.”

  Mel had rolled to her side to look up at Riley. She reached out a hand to touch his knee, but her fingers passed through the fatigues he wore. “Shit,” she muttered.

  “You want him solid enough to touch?” Vickie asked. “I can do that. Just won’t be able to talk while I do.”

  Mel looked away from Vickie, considering the offer. Her fingers twitched against the sheet. “I…just for a bit? If you can do it without hurting yourself,” she added quickly. “If it’s gonna make you worse, then it ain’t worth it.”

  “It’s just adding a chainsaw to the flaming torches I’m juggling. More a matter of control than power.” Her jaw set, something in one of her breast pockets began to glow brightly enough to show through the cloth, and a thicker fog poured from her hands and added itself to Riley.

  Riley stretched out a more opaque finger and poked Mel in the nose, gently at first. She winced at the new sensation. “Feels like lukewarm Jell-O,” she mumbled.

  “Ah thought everybody liked that stuff.” He repeated the gesture and laughed at Mel’s expression. “C’mere, Revvie. This ain’t gonna slime you or nothin’, I don’t think.”

  She pushed herself up and inched forward. Mel hesitated, then leaned forward with both arms for an awkward embrace. Riley met her halfway and she fell against him in exhausted relief. This time, there were fewer tears. The ghost smoothed the thin patches of Mel’s hair while she hugged him tightly.

  “So, you’re not back here to haunt me ’cause I did something awful to you?”

  The words came out in a voice so close to Penny’s own soft uncertainty that Riley had to check to see who had asked the question. Penny stepped closer to the bed and patted Mel’s arm awkwardly. “He ain’t hauntin’ you, Lace—Miz Gautier,” she said fervently. “Haunts ain’t nice to ya!”

  “And in spite of you takin’ nothin’ less than perfect when it came to our team, not one of us would’ve ever questioned your bein’ kind. You made passin’ a comfort, when it could’ve been a terror, an’ that ain’t somethin’ many get to experience.” His thumb wiped away a few tears that had escaped down her cheek. “That’s a gift, Revvie. It ain’t somethin’ to waste.”

  Mel remained on her side, Riley and Penny offering their own means of solace. “So, that’s why you came for me? ’Cause you knew this was just as bad as the Sandbox.”

  “’Cause I knew that you’d make it out, and that you’d need to know that’s what was s’posed to happen.” Riley held her shoulders and helped her sit up. He cupped her chin with a dirt-dusted hand. His form started to waver, but he held on. “You’re here for a reason. So’s she, but I ain’t privy to those details. You got a gift for dreams. Dreams ain’t for the dead, they’re for the living. So, that means you gotta live. Not just survive, but live.”

  She stared back at him. “But…”

  “An’ you gotta cheer for ’Bama next season.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Ew,” said Penny critically. “I liked you. Now I ain’t so sure.”

  “Okay, that last part ain’t necessary.” He winked at Penny. The outline of his form started to blur. “Everythin’ else, though, that’s what you gotta remember. And Ah knew you wouldn’t believe it from just anybody, so Ah had to make sure you heard it from me.”

  * * *

  Gilead sat down next to Mel with a clipboard in her hand. “Debrief?” Mel asked apprehensively. She
’d been dreading this. But at least now, thanks to Vickie, they weren’t avoiding her room, or keeping the blinds closed.

  Gilead shook her head. “The opposite, actually,” she replied reluctantly. “Orders from Ben, Bella, and Bull; they think we’ll do more harm than good by making you relive all that. Bella wants me to get you up to speed from Vix’s report. We’ve got a lot we need to ask you about after that. Don’t worry, most of it isn’t going to depend on your memory of your incarceration.”

  Mel listened, Army stoicism providing a numb kind of detachment as Gilead told her how Doppelgaenger had been impersonating her ever since she’d been shot in the Atlanta Underground attack. How Vickie and Bella had both surmised it was done. “The kids told us he did it to them, too, though not as frequently. Vix thinks DG had to renew the ‘Mel’ disguise from time to time, so we believe that is why there are a lot of bits of you gone.” Gilead’s voice remained calm and detached, for all the world as if she was talking about colds or the flu, and not about some metahuman monster who imitated people by eating parts of them. And now those few confused memories she had were starting to make sense.

  That was bad enough. But Mel listened in growing disbelief as Gilead continued describing how Doppelgaenger had wormed her way into both Belladonna’s and Vickie’s confidence, and deeply into the inner workings of ECHO.

  Then began an affair with Red Djinni.

  “There are lots of Overwatch recordings,” Gilead continued. “Doppelgaenger wasn’t on Overwatch Two, but she was pretty diligent about wearing her headset. I suppose it amused her to no end, to know that she was conducting a love affair with Red right in front of the woman who was privy to every secret, and silently in love with the Djinni.”

  Finally, Gilead’s expression wavered from neutral, for just a moment, to enraged. But she quickly corrected herself. “Anyway, we’re going to want you to help us with some of those tapes; the more we know about what Doppelgaenger can and can’t do, the better off we are.”