by David Finn
She started to back away. The room seemed impossibly vast and empty. This is a tomb, she realized, this a tomb.
‘What happens to me?’ he said, somberly.
‘You die,’ she said, ‘You always die. It’s just a question of when.’
‘Ah,’ Gareth looked slightly crestfallen. ‘I really wanted all this to help me out more.’
The Repeater Monster reached from the darkness, from the dark spaces themselves, sliding in and out of reality.
The Repeater Monster had sat in the Winter park. The Repeater Monster was in the café with her and Kate in the Grave. It all flashed through her mind.
The Repeater wore a grey, weather-stained cloak. The Repeater Monster haunted dreams. The Repeater Monster looked at her, with a face far more weary and human than she wished it was.
His scythe swung, hooking Gareth in the neck, wrenching him to the ground.
‘Leave him be!’ she cried out.
The Repeater Monster spoke, ‘This is beyond you, Princess. You can’t save him. Gareth dies here, now, forever. Over and over.’
‘Why?’
As Demorn watched in glazed horror, the Repeater Monster’s face changed into a multitude of dead TV stars from ancient shows, men and women. She saw Lucy, she saw Hawkeye, she saw variants of Sherlock, she saw Jim Rockford, she saw Vegas singers, an unending blur of faces that were famous somewhere once, lost now to the grave lands of cable movies in dead motels long past midnight.
And it does end, Demorn realised. It ends with the same weary face, drained of energy, bereft of spirit. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, a wizard or a witch.
‘Why? I don’t know why. Nobody does.’
The black wand fell from Gareth’s hands.
Blood gushed from his neck, foaming across the glassy water. Gareth gasped, his breathing shallow, skin ghost-white. The blood upon the water formed a burning circle.
In the mirror of the water she saw reflections of herself, older, carrying the burning sword. She saw reflections of the comic store, Lost Labyrinth, stacks of comic books drenched in his blood.
The Repeater Monster laughed grimly. ‘You like to have a choice, don’t you?’
Demorn said, ‘How would you know what I like?’
The Repeater traced a pattern in the blood with his scythe. His eyes burnt like dying suns.
‘Because this is like an ancient TV show minus the laugh track. We have played this scene out many times.’
‘Bullshit. It feels new to me,’ she said.
His eyes were death. He bent down, drawing blood from Gareth’s neck on his finger, running it along his lips.
Tires screeching in the night. Country music, crackling on the lonely radio in her mind. Looking up, Demorn could see the expanse of empty road, rising out of this vast, nameless space. Instinctively, she knew where it would lead back to.
The armband burnt suddenly upon her skin, more than the phantom pains which came occasionally. She saw a red shadow by the distant road. For a moment she saw a murky car-park, the scent of the Red Huntress on her lips, while a tiny ballerina danced to death songs.
‘Toxis died,’ she sighed, her fingers brushing the armband. ‘Lost in Firethorn.’
The Repeater jangled a bag around his waist. ‘You like to have a choice.’
Demorn’s eyes phased; a cleansing power surged through her. She wasn’t her younger self anymore. Her magic eyes blazed with fire and knowledge. The bag was full of bones, shimmering with glowing runes.
Flames stirred in her chest, passion flowing through her as she studied the runes with her magic eyes.
‘They aren’t the bones of the Huntress. The language is that of a Firethorn sorcerer.’
She stepped toward the Monster.
‘How did you get them!’
The Repeater loosened the bag, tipping the bones into the water. The circle of fire burnt upon the water, surrounding them. Gareth’s face shimmered in the water, blood mingled with ice.
The sword was in her hand, burning with purple fire. Around them time and space seemed to heave.
‘Answer me! How? By what witchery?’
His cloak wrapped around him, the purple fire lighting up his features. She wished his face was less human, more cruel. Her magic eyes could see into his soul, feeding on a fresh core of energy in this place of sorcery.
‘Answer me or I will kill you,’ she murmured.
‘What difference would that make?’ he said softly. ‘The ways are multiple but it all leads to now. The future howls for you.’
The Repeater waved his hand toward the tangled series of roads above them, concrete highways full of ghosts.
‘That all goes nowhere,’ she said. ‘We hunted the bones you’re burning.’
The Repeater nodded slightly, motioning with a single finger downward.
‘Just so.’
Gareth’s body was almost gone, shreds of clothing and bone. His face was a broken reflection in the bloody water.
Time seemed slower. It’s a spell, she realized suddenly. Demorn detached her mind, allowing the moment to flow through her.
‘I hope you’re not trying to threaten me with Hell, because I’m not that religious.’
The Repeater laughed, dry as a desert. ‘You can resist the time-spells to a point, Princess.’
‘I am Asanti born. All is a mirror, even lies. What are you trying to do? Because if you think you will be able to slice my head off, you’re in for a rude shock, buddy.’
The phone was still ringing. It came from all around her, not just through water anymore.
The Repeater pulled a phone from his cloak. ‘Yes.’
She heard herself speak through the phone, clear as day.
‘Hi, Gareth, we just got into town!’
He said, ‘That’s fine, I’ll send a car.’
‘Oh, it’s all right, we can make our own way if you like.’
He chuckled. ‘No, it’s fine, see you soon.’
‘OK, bye.’
A car started, the limo accelerating on the network of roads above. The last of Gareth’s bones vanished.
She couldn’t see into the Repeater’s soul any longer. Her vision was cloaked in mist. But she knew.
‘You’re him. I don’t get it but you’re Gareth.’
The Repeater voice changed tone, infected with humor and disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you don’t know who the X-Men are!’
Demorn laughed then, sheathing the katana, memory flooding back. She slapped her leg.
‘I found that so rude when you said that. I did have a vague idea, y’know! I was new to the scene. Naive. Star struck. In love.’
The circle of fire was burning high, surrounding them both. She couldn’t see the highway above them anymore.
He took the hood off his cloak. She could see Gareth, caught between death and living, his features wavy and indistinct.
‘It was a very rude thing to say, Demorn. I thought I was a big shot who knew everything.’
She shrugged. ‘It was a cool party in LA. We were young. People say silly things.’
‘You’re too kind.’
His features were almost wholly blurred as he pulled the cloak over his face. The flames parted for a moment and she saw Dead Gareth, bitter and alone, standing outside the circle.
‘What made you do this?’ she said with a bland directness.
‘I hung out with witches as a kid. I knew how to do it. Bad things happened in the Arcade. I was scared of death.’
It could not possibly be more terrifying than what you’ve experienced, Demorn thought with a coldness that was almost cruel.
‘I don’t remember a single thing.’
That dry laugh. ‘Because it hasn’t happened to you yet, Demorn. I don’t remember either. Everything loops.’
Demorn realized the fires had no warmth. Gareth’s face was mirrored in them, along with flashes of her and Sue in Ki City.
She sighed, this whole thing was crazy.
&
nbsp; ‘How long has it been?’
‘Years. It’s worse than anything. It’s just a machine, there isn’t good or evil. There isn’t light or dark. There’s just emptiness and tender love songs that turn into dirges. Then you call and we try again.’
Demorn’s smirk felt hollow. ‘Geez, you’re a bright spark. What happens if I don’t?’
There was silence beneath the cloak.
‘How long has it been since I called,’ she asked.
Suddenly Demorn knew it had been a long time. It had been a long time before the Grave. She had almost forgotten all of this. It hung on the edge of her memory, with fond, distant thoughts of Sue.
If not for the red flag on the computer, she might not even be here. The thought filled Demorn with ambivalent dread. How long have I lived like this, wandering from one disaster to another, killing everything to solve the problems.
‘You will need the stars, by the way, Demorn.’
His dry voice took her out of her reverie.
She laughed, taken aback.
‘What? I need the stars? Do you mean like Hollywood? Really? Or the actual stars, in the sky?’
A weary smile creased his face. ‘No, I don’t mean either.’
‘Oh, the throwing stars! I need them because there’s violence and fighting and stuff to come. That makes sense.’
She felt for them in her jacket lining, fingers curling around the edge.
‘I like you better,’ Demorn said. ‘Better than I have in ages.’
‘Don’t judge me by the meat-suit in the car. I disconnected everything that makes him me.’
A sadness passed through her. Demorn pulled her jacket close, warding the emotion away.
‘Everyone dies, y’know, Gareth. Even shows on repeat. That’s what makes them sad. We can see the end coming.’
The Repeater sighed. ‘So kill me then. Kill me and do it right.’
She could see through the mist. It was Gareth, his face not decayed or tired. Gareth with dreamy eyes and long dark hair. Gareth who she met at a party in LA. Gareth who teased her about the X-Men. Gareth who she still missed. Gareth who showed her where Lost Labyrinth was. Gareth who was stuck inside a multi-layered nightmare. Gareth who had a small, warm soul just like her.
On impulse Demorn reached out and hugged him. Time folded around her, the fires howling her Asanti name.
The circle burnt out behind her as she vanished from the tomb.
The Repeater stood there as the last of the circle’s embers died away. A water-bearer cried out in her foreign Asanti tongue.
In those last few moments after she left, before the machine took over and the system re-set, there was a version of hope.
4
* * *
Burning images on mirrored walls. An electro-bomb that ate the world. Cutting down to now.
Smile and Demorn walked down the slowly moving runway. Her fingers clenched the sides. Her eyes felt like blown out canyons. She ran her hand across her face.
Rain blew across the giant glass roof. Electro Xmas music was playing, pulsing out over shoppers.
‘I thought we all shopped online,’ Demorn said. ‘I didn’t think people went to the mall anymore.’
Smile’s reply was blurred. ‘Maybe this was a long time ago.’
In the sky, a huge electronic sign was advertising a clothes shop, images slowly changing, beautiful models casting visual spells. She could see inside their souls, the sweet agony of the perfect deals they offered.
Her fingers clenched the runway. The Muzak was the oldest spell. The model’s faces became letters, shifting words of control. The inevitable formula. Demorn saw the names of demons and the gods. She saw the thin future. It all became TRITON IS THE DEMON TRITON IS THE FUTURE TRITON IS THE ULTIMATE—
She blinked, losing the image. It all bounced back to normal. Sweat ran down her back. They’re here, she thought.
‘How did we never realise?’ she asked in a tired voice.
Smile was suddenly a normal, human boy of about thirteen, dressed in a fancy looking t-shirt and longish shorts. He had lost the electronic image he had worn since Mexico.
‘I can see them. Who are they?’ he said in a quiet voice.
Demorn smiled and held his hand tight. Her eyes could see the electronic flickers beneath the surface of his skin. She wasn’t sure he even knew he had changed.
‘The future.’
The symbols changed to flashy ads for the Tyrant Run, Triton code hidden once again, even to her eyes. Smile kept looking, his eyes flickering purple, body growing opaque.
She wondered what he saw. Finally he turned back to her, buzzing with data. Her skin felt paper-thin, everything visible before his merciless gaze.
‘Look away,’ she murmured.
Smile opened his mouth as if to speak. She saw the fragment of an image of the Grave in his vision. She gripped her brother, holding him close, avoiding those terrible eyes.
‘Look away!’ Demorn said.
She remembered something Gareth had said, when they were young and he had kissed her so softly and so sweetly. There was no true time, no single lasting moment or one meaning — there was just the universe which flowed through them, and beneath the wave there was a machine, beneath the wave was a machine.
The memory passed, as it always did.
They hopped off the walkway. The crowd around them vanished. The air conditioning was very cold. She took her hand away from Smile’s eyes. On her hands, in purple neon was written BENEATH THE WAVE WAS A MACHINE—
‘What does it even mean, Sis?’
Demorn sighed. She saw herself in the glass of a video game store. She wore black combat pants. A dark red and blue Wrecking Ball shirt. Her hair was longer, unruly.
Sense memories stirred.
Dead Gareth standing in the crowd, staring in the glass window. Her neck turned fast, but there was just the crowd, jostling, back again.
‘Witches are here,’ she said, moving her fingers in a ritual gesture.
Smile grinned beautifully, every tooth golden, positive vibes emanating from his soul.
‘Does that really help?’
His fingers waved through the air, inscribing the same gesture, pitch perfect Asanti. The air shifted, reality sliding. She saw a dark chamber, Corizan sorcery markings burning in the air. She saw the blurry outlines of a Beast.
She caught his fingers, the nightmare dimension softening, a multitude of teeth fading, like a miniature universe dying with soft pain inside their hands.
He looked at her with a plaintive expression. ‘I miss Asanti . . .’
She nodded, somber. Her lips brushed his forehead.
‘I know, me, too.’
‘This sure is one weird mall, Sis. All the games are old, like REALLY old.’
She moved into the shop, looking over the titles, startled to see the familiar image of Wrecking flickering on the 3-D covers.
She could feel the Wrecking Ball viral ads, keying into her shirt, marketing the product. Holo game trailers activating the longer she stayed.
She saw the sky turning red and a shadow of something coming across the horizon line.
She saw him standing by a lake in a forest, the surface placid and peaceful, a gold pyramid rising from the water. The wrecking ball glowed in his hand, charred chains, at odds with the peace.
A cold wind whipped across the lake, blowing into her face. A terrible premonition crossed her heart.
His voice cut across, deep and authoritative.
Demorn blinked, releasing herself from the program. It was just an ad. All he was saying was a tagline. But she felt breathless, still lost in the Grave.
The holo played out, battle scenes of Wrecking Ball versus some monstrous entity, a walled city behind him, fragile in a vast wilderness, depending on their god.
She turned away, happy. He didn’t really die.
Smile was an electronic ghost, so young again, lost in the games. She saw the crowd in flickers, half here, half not. H
e was linking up.
‘It’s like going back in time, Sis. They’ve got like the whole Wrecking Ball range, every game, going back to the first, all converted and upgraded to today’s tech . . .’
She laid a gentle on his shoulder. ‘Have fun, babe. Buy a classic game and bring it back to the Club.’
He looked up, the computer game worlds shining in his eyes, straining to not become one with the connection.
‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got business to sort out.’
‘What kind?’ he asked, vaguely.
She smiled but there was zero warmth in her eyes or soul. ‘Old debts.’
‘Your eyes are cold.’
She gave Smile a final pat on the shoulder and left.
The crowd had vanished again. The mall was freezing. People flashed on and off like ghosts. Demorn didn’t care. She had a job to do.
5
* * *
Ki City changed constantly. Sue always said it was a neon mystery maze. From the mainland sprawl, rising up to the sky.
Then crawling along the sea floor, lush underwater grottos of the mega-rich, leading to the Jade Hotel, where the beautiful gazed out onto the endless sea.
If they gazed out anywhere at all, Demorn thought, her hand against the moving waves, restless images on the huge city wall-screen.
To Demorn, Ki was a dense river packed with information. People with their price. People with broken hearts, hungry bodies full of need and wanting. Fed blind by the dream needles, fed by the Mirage, everyone an addict somehow, lost in their trances and their private visions. Boys and girls lost deep inside the labyrinth.
‘Are you so very different, hon?’
Suicide Sue stood in the doorway of her club, scorning the wan morning sun which hadn’t taken the chill out of the air. She was in her early twenties, with ice-pale skin and brilliant green eyes that shone, wearing a sexy short black dress, awesome purple eye-liner.
‘I know where I am, Sue.’
Sue laughed as she put on the shining death mask. In the thin sun it was even more frightening than normal, a decayed shifting monstrosity which Demorn knew was a dead soul.