Gabriel positions himself at the driver’s side door and begins firing as well. The mass of bodies descends, hundreds of creatures screaming and diving with their needle-like claws extended in front of them. Gabriel climbs onto the hood of the car and keeps firing. He’s got scratches all over his face now, puffs of black dust appearing each time a creature breaks his skin.
Helen and Gabriel take aim at the thickest parts of the swarm, destroying as many creatures as possible with each shot.
Several meters away a portion of the mass sweeps together into a single black shape. They swoop upward to form a seven-foot Tromindox, a scaly mass of tentacles and claws with a skull-like head and huge eyes. Spikes protrude from its shoulders. The ambush slows as the swarm retreats and again forms one individual.
Helen pulls a stray scorpion-creature from her hair, throws it to the ground, and blasts it.
“Nice trick,” Gabriel shouts at the Tromindox. “Going all to pieces like that. Impressive.”
The Tromindox says nothing.
“Any last words?” Gabriel says, taking aim.
“Makes no difference if you shoot me,” the Tromindox calls back in a deep voice. “You’ll be coming up with your own last words, soon enough.”
“Why?” Gabriel asks. “Are we standing on a trap door? I don’t see one.”
“No, but the Imprisoned One will soon be free. Thanks to your clan.”
“What does he mean?” Helen says under her breath.
“I don’t know,” Gabriel mumbles. “Let’s keep him talking.”
“The Imprisoned One? He’s been irrelevant for centuries. He’s rotting at the center of an underground labyrinth out of time, last I heard,” Gabriel says.
“Not for long,” the Tromindox declares. “Not when the two fragments are reunited.”
“Oh, maybe you weren’t aware,” Gabriel says. “That’s not an option. The fragments don’t get to reunite, ever. They are kept permanently apart. You’ll never find them both. Nobody will.”
“Your wife has one,” the Tromindox says.
“How does he know that?” Helen whispers.
“People find one of them all the time,” Gabriel says. “Makes no difference. Nobody finds both.”
“Monder the Imprisoned One has the other,” the Tromindox says.
“That’s not possible,” Gabriel says. “The Council has the other fragment. And nothing goes in or out of Monder’s labyrinth. The labyrinth is out of time. No one goes there. Or comes out.”
“Is what he’s saying possible?” Helen whispers.
“I don’t know,” Gabriel mumbles back. “I don’t think so. I think he’s bluffing.”
“Believe what you like,” the Tromindox says. It raises its arms and breaks up again into a swarm of tiny creatures, spiraling upward into the air. Soon Helen and Gabriel can only see a patch of dots high in the sky.
“We’ve got to warn your mother,” Gabriel says, putting his weapon away, “in case that squid wasn’t just making stuff up to get a rise out of us.” He slides into the driver’s seat of the Maverick. “Get the portal and set it for the return trip. And remember what we said about closing the portal all the way once we’re through. We don’t want to create any more rifts.”
Helen climbs into the passenger seat. Gabriel hits the gas and Betty the Maverick screeches forward out of the parking lot, leaving a trail of dust and black powdered critters. Helen pulls the portal out of her pocket and shoves it into a slot in the dashboard.
Clarence wakes up in the back seat and smooshes his nose against the window as the scenery outside blurs, the car hurtles back through the portal, and the opening in space and time is sealed again, leaving no rift.
Gabriel bursts in the apartment door with Helen and Clarence close behind. “Kate?” he calls out.
“Right here,” Kate says. She is sitting cross-legged and hunched in the corner nearest the hot plate and sink. Henry lies on his stomach drawing nearby, surrounded by a mess of paper and pencils. Late-afternoon sun spills in the windows across half-finished hacking projects, large and small circuit boards, squiggly wires, boxes with unknown contents, welding equipment, pipes, and a few computer monitors. The water drone from the river lies on the floor, its guts spilled all around it. A 1960s-era clothing mannequin wearing a welding mask leans on the brick wall.
“We’ve got news,” Gabriel says. “From the field. We had an interesting time on our assignment out there in the desert.”
“I guess so,” Kate says, peering at her husband’s many wounds. “You look like you had a fight with a staple gun.”
“Yeah,” Helen says, rummaging under the sink for towels. “We got a little punctured.”
“I’ve got news, too,” Kate says. She spins around the subject of her attention, a light sheet lying flat on the floor. It’s thin, with rounded edges, the size of a smallish piece of paper. Kate touches it and it illuminates, displaying a single photograph with a caption underneath.
“Okay, let’s do your news first,” Gabriel says, crouching down and squinting at the picture. On the sheet he can see a grainy photograph of a disheveled man, standing on the street corner located beneath their apartment’s windows. This fellow is a regular in the neighborhood; Gabriel has seen him many times. In the picture, the man stands with his back to the camera clutching a sizeable piece of cardboard which is presumably scrawled with some slogan on the non-visible side. This fellow is often found marching up and down with handmade signs and making pronouncements about the issues of the day as he sees them. The topics vary.
“Notice anything interesting about this picture?” Kate asks.
Helen joins her dad, handing him a wet towel, and the two of them look closer. There’s nothing much to look at in the shot, just the man and his sign, and the sidewalk. No other people, nothing unusual in the background.
“I don’t see anything,” Helen says.
“What’s interesting is,” Henry says without looking up from his drawing, “the photo was taken from inside this room.”
Gabriel stands up. “Where? Here?”
“Yeah, it’s from the window,” Henry replies. “You can see the exact same angle if you stand over there by the mannequin and look down.”
“And from the way you say that, I assume that neither you nor your mother are the photographer?” Gabriel asks.
“Nope,” Henry says.
“Now read the caption,” Kate says.
Gabriel leans down and squints at the tiny letters. It reads, WE KNOW YOU HAVE THE FRAGMENT. IT WON’T BE LONG.
“Someone broke in here while we were out, while you were on your assignment,” Kate says, “and took this photo to tell us that they know where we are. We are compromised. Anna had the fragment for five years before being detected. And here I am, found out already.”
“Gosh, where have I heard that before?” Helen says, throwing up her arms. “Guess we’ll have to run away. Again. Where to this time?”
“Silverwood occupational hazard,” Gabriel says to his daughter, shooting her a look. “I prefer not to call it running away, though. I like to refer to it as strategic repositioning. Maintaining our advantage through location enhancement.” He smiles at Helen, but she’s not amused.
“So,” Kate says, “this photograph indicates that someone is trying to intimidate us, at least. That’s nothing new. What’s your news then?”
Well, to start,” Gabriel says, “I have to tell you that as rumored, those Tromindox have gotten very skilled at swarming. Haven’t they, kid?”
“Yeah,” Helen says, “they can bust up into hundreds of creatures and hunt somebody down, and then they turn back into one beast and finish the kill. The only useful weapon we had was the energy guns to blow them apart on a molecular level. We had no time to even find any humans to rescue. And obviously, the anti-venom blood is not helping very much. I feel like a pincushion.”
“So we’ve got that to deal with,” Gabriel says. “We will have to prepare ourselves to de
al with swarming Tromindox from now on. But there was this one squid we talked to—this was the newsworthy part. It said that Monder knows where both the fragments are. And, that he has one of them.”
“No, he doesn’t!” Kate says. “How could Monder have one of the fragments? That makes no sense. He can’t interact with anyone, let alone the Council. And the Council has the other fragment. The portal to where Monder is is permanently non-operational.”
“This squid we talked to tried to give the impression that it had been in communication with our labyrinth-dwelling friend,” Gabriel says. “It’s possible he was just mouthing off, like they do when we get them on the run. But in light of your photo and note here, we have some things to think about.”
Kate touches the half-portal around her neck. “That can’t be a coincidence, some Tromindox going on about Monder and then this fragment being found so fast.”
“Monder supposedly can’t communicate with anyone,” Gabriel says. “Not Tromindox, not the Council, not us. He’s out of time. He’s in a labyrinth. Locked away, permanently.” Gabriel is pacing again. “But say he did get a hold of one of the fragments? We have no idea what he’s been doing down in his dungeon for, say, several hundred years. What if he’s figured out a way to get it, and maybe even to use it?”
“Half a portal?” Kate says. “The Tromindox are smart, but really—are they that smart?”
“We have to consider every possibility,” Gabriel says.
“Who is Monder?” Helen asks.
“Monder is a Tromindox with a big brain and an even bigger attitude problem,” Gabriel answers. “Monder has had a hand in the untimely demise of many a Silverwood, even turning some of them against us. Our dealings with Monder and those like him have threatened at times to tear the clan apart.”
“Yes,” Kate says. “Monder once shape-shifted his way into the inner workings of the clan, even going so far as to, shall we say, recruit people for his purposes. The Tromindox have been known to preserve and reanimate human bodies using technology rather than anatomy, outfitting them with mechanical parts and equipping them to spy on or even attack humans.”
“Gross,” Helen says.
“Gross, and dangerous,” Kate says. “We call the reanimated bodies ‘toms, short for automaton. A lot of time and effort have gone into learning counter measures and breaking into the ‘tom programming. My cousin Anna has been at the forefront of this project.”
“Anyway,” Gabriel says, “At one point someone sent Monder through a portal, and then attempted to close it off permanently, trapping him inside…”
“Is this Monder?” Henry says suddenly, and holds up one of his drawings. Gabriel takes it from his son and frowns.
“Aw man, this is just great,” Gabriel says. “Our Guild son can see him.” He turns the drawing around so Kate can see it. “That’s our favorite squid, all right.”
Kate looks over the pencil drawing of a long, graceful face with high cheekbones and huge, almond-shaped eyes. Henry has even included an elegant waistcoat. “That’s the one, no doubt,” Kate says.
“I’d say based on Henry’s drawing, and the pronouncements of our squid friend in the desert about the fragments, we’ve got to at least entertain the possibility that Monder is involved, even if it’s in name only,” Gabriel says.
“I suppose you’re right,” Kate responds.
“Your Guild training is paying off, kid,” Gabriel says, handing the Monder rendering back to his son. “Rose is one heck of a Guild Mentor.”
“We haven’t made it easy,” Kate says. “Running all around like we have. Rose has gone to great lengths to keep track of you, Henry. It’s about time she finally had the chance to give you some proper lessons. Guild kids can really freak themselves out if they draw stuff like this and they don’t know what they are doing.”
“Yeah,” Henry says. “Rose said a Guild girl once hid under her bed for a whole week after she drew a Tromindox eating a person, she scared herself so bad. But I’m not scared. I can draw anything. It doesn’t bother me in the least.” Henry sticks his chin out as he says this.
“Good,” Helen says to her brother, “because your drawings have gotten ten times more gory since you started your lessons. You’re like a sketch artist for monsters.”
“Yeah, and I’m lightning fast now,” Henry says, grinning.
There’s a tap on the door and everyone jumps, except for Clarence the dog, who remains asleep in his patch of sun.
“Nobody panic. It’s just Rose,” Henry says. “It’s time for my lesson.”
“Unless of course we need to jump in the car and run off somewhere to hide,” Helen says.
Kate glares at her daughter. “No, we don’t need to hide, not yet,” she says, opening the door. “Hello, Rose.”
A slight woman, maybe fifty, with a mass of dark gray-brown curls and a pencil tucked behind her ear steps through the doorway. She cradles an art portfolio in her arms. She wears the sleeves of her cardigan sweater pushed up to her elbows and sensible flat shoes. “Hello, Kate. Hello, Henry,” Rose says. “Henry, are you ready for your lesson?”
“Sure. I just drew a guy who is supposed to be in prison or somewhere,” Henry says.
“Really,” Rose says. “Is it anyone we know?”
“I don’t know him, but Mom and Dad do,” Henry answers. “It’s someone who I’m not supposed to be able to see, I guess.”
Rose looks concerned. “Who is it, Kate?”
The light sheet on the floor in the corner illuminates again. The picture has changed. Gabriel picks it up.
“You’re getting a love note.” Gabriel scowls. “Look.”
The card displays a picture of a note handwritten in ornate script, which reads:
Hello, Beautiful.
I shall see your lovely face again, soon. With great anticipation,
Monder.
“Monder?” Rose says. “Is that a joke?”
“I’m afraid it’s not,” Gabriel says. “Henry, show Rose your drawing.”
Henry hands Rose his Monder portrait.
Rose jumps at the sight of the elegant face. “What…what is this? How is this possible? This…no one is supposed to see…”
“We know,” Kate says. “Monder is supposed to be locked out of time. Gone, invisible to the Guild, the Council, out of contact. That’s what we thought, anyway. You know, if it was just me getting some pictures and notes, I would put this whole thing down to someone with a sick sense of humor. But Henry is seeing Monder, too. And if a Guild kid can see him, this has to be the real thing.”
Kate shakes her head. She looks down at the fragment around her neck. “The portal is leaking, somehow.”
“So,” Helen says, throwing up her hands, “thus far it sounds like, there’s this Tromindox named Monder, who isn’t supposed to be around, but he is, and he’s possibly sending weird messages to my mom, and may have even been to our apartment, and my brother can see him, even though this Tromindox is in, what? A portal? Out of time? With a leak in it?”
“And,” Henry adds, “don’t forget he has one of the fragments, whatever that is.”
“It’s the other half of this,” Kate says, holding up the object around her neck. “This portal was cut in two a long, long time ago. Each piece is called a fragment and they are to be kept apart, never reunited, never made back into a working portal. Which has proven harder to do than anyone anticipated.”
“Why don’t you just destroy that piece around your neck, then?” Helen asks. “Then the portal can’t ever be put back together again and it won’t work, right?”
“Portals are almost impossible to destroy once they are created,” Rose explains. “They can’t be melted down or thrown away. The only thing that is supposed to be able to destroy a portal is another portal. The fact that this one got severed in two was…very unusual.”
“So this Tromindox in the labyrinth,” Helen says, “he’s possibly got one half, and mom has the other half, and now he’s se
nding notes and pictures even though that’s not possible?”
“That’s what it looks like, kid,” Gabriel says. “That’s the short version, at least. The longer version is—”
The coffee maker in the corner explodes, sending scalding water hissing up the brick wall.
The deadbolt on the apartment door clanks open, then shuts, then opens again. The doorknob turns but the door stays shut.
“Everybody get down!” Kate yells, running across the room and hurdling over the dog. Light bulbs in the ceiling burst, raining glass down on the floor. Rose puts her hands over her face. Her portfolio drops to the floor.
And then, black. In every direction. Screeching, winged creatures brandishing sharp claws and scorpion tails pour in through the doors and smash the windows. The Tromindox swarm fills the air. Helen falls to the floor, lying down on top of her brother to protect him from the venom. Why couldn’t Henry have been born with the anti-venom in his blood, like her?
“It’s a million of them!” Gabriel yells, but no one can hear him. Wings and claws and beady eyes fly in his face, talons tearing at his clothes and his hair. Each time one breaks his skin the creature disintegrates into a gray puff of dust, but with so many of them it makes little difference—just like what happened out in the desert.
Kate hauls a weapon out of a box on the floor and commences firing with one hand while she tosses a weapon to her husband with the other. Each time she fires, another five or ten creatures disintegrate. But she still can’t see either of her children, or Rose, through the storm of black.
Helen can feel Henry pulling out from under her. “Henry!” she yells. “Stop! Stay with me!”
“I’m trying!” Henry cries. But he’s sliding away across the floor, feet first. He flails his hands, grabbing at anything— the rug, boxes, loose wires.
Helen grasps at her brother’s shirt, then takes hold of his wrists. She lies on her stomach, looking right into his eyes. “Hold on to me!” she screams. The force pulling him away from her is growing stronger, as if he’s tied to the bumper of an accelerating car. Henry kicks his legs as if he might swim back to her, but his efforts have no effect.
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