by Rod Rees
She raised her eyes and gazed out towards all those trusting, hopeful people. ‘But the masks we wear have done other things: they have offered protection to those amongst us who would do evil … they have allowed something wicked to fester and ferment within our midst … something that is an inheritance from our past, something perverse and destructive. It is these daemons who walk disguised amongst us who have contaminated the good in humankind and who are responsible for our addictive inclinations and for our predilection for war. It is because of these malignant daemons that humanity has become addicted to violence. If the people of this world are ever to live in peace, these daemons must be eradicated and to do this we must be prepared to remove our masks so that we may recognise the evil lurking amongst us.’
The murmurings within the crowd had become louder, signalling their bafflement at what Norma was saying. This wasn’t the message they had been expecting. Norma raised her voice a notch. ‘To face down these daemons we must allow others to see our Real Self and to do this we must embrace individuation, the process by which the individual is integrated with the consciousness of the whole. Humanity has reached its Omega Point when it must slough off the habits and the inclinations of yesteryear. From henceforth Homo sapiens sapiens – knowing man – must become Homo sapiens sophia – wise man – our relationships based on understanding and not on secrecy … on openness and not privacy … on mutual support and not coercion.’
Now, as Norma looked out over the SuperBowl she could see that the giant pyramid standing in front of the stage had become suffused by a halo of green radiation. This was her moment of truth.
TERROR INCOGNITA: THE DEMI-MONDE
Negotiating the final two landings leading to the summit of the Pyramid was difficult. Trixie had to rest on the first for eight long seconds and on the second for eleven even longer seconds, and while she stood there, all she could do was watch impotently as Wysochi battled with the StormTroopers. His attack had been so unexpected that he’d managed to send two of them tumbling back down the stairs before they quite realised what was happening, and with Wysochi being so immensely powerful the other three had a real job overcoming him. But as the seconds ticked past the inevitable happened. One of the Storm-Troopers managed to jam his revolver into Wysochi’s guts and pull the trigger. There was a bang, Wysochi staggered, then reached out, grabbed the StormTrooper by the throat and tumbled the pair of them from the Pyramid.
For a moment Trixie stood paralysed by shock. It seemed impossible that someone as big and strong as Wysochi could ever be defeated. She felt empty inside and tears began to stream down her cheeks. It took the hum of a bullet inches away from her left ear to galvanise her into action. She raced up the final flight of stairs to the topmost platform, taking an instant to understand that the last number in the sequence – eight – would have to be entered using the dial on the floor. Poe had been right with his calculations, he just hadn’t had her father’s insight regarding there being a time element involved with the solving of the puzzle.
Then …
As Trixie stooped down to move the pointer, a bullet took her in the back, the impact sending her toppling. She knew instinctively that it was a fatal wound, and as she lay there she could feel herself drifting towards death. Desperately she tried to summon the energy to reach for the dial but it was no good … she was finished.
But even as she struggled for life, she became aware of her father kneeling next to her. Her RaTionalist sensibilities told her that he was just a figment of her near-death imagination but he seemed awfully real. ‘I never had the chance to tell you how much I loved you, Trixie,’ she heard him whisper as he stroked her hair just as he’d done when she was a child, ‘nor how proud I was of you. There are precious few eighteen-year-old girls who could have done what you have done in defying the might of the ForthRight. You are a daughter in a million.’
‘I have failed, Father.’
‘Have you, Trixie? I thought you were the girl who never accepted defeat.’
‘I don’t,’ and ignoring the pain that lanced through her body, she stretched out a hand and moved the dial. ‘I love you, Father,’ and with those words Trixie Dashwood died.
‘I love you too,’ said Algernon Dashwood.
PARADIGM HOUSE, LONDON: THE REAL WORLD
Listening to Norma Williams as she stood on the stage addressing the Fun/Funs, Bole admitted to being baffled by what she was saying. He checked his Polly. Soon the Column would be atop the Great Pyramid and then the Ceremony of Purification would be complete and the MAOA-Grigori gene of all the Fun/Funs gathered in the SuperBowl activated. Just one more minute.
Bole dipped his head towards the PollyMic. ‘Operative One: fire at will.’
MOUNT YAMANTAU, BASHKORTOSTAN: THE REAL WORLD
To struggle, Ella decided, would be useless. Her hands were held by handcuffs so strong that even she couldn’t break them, and she was unarmed. All she could do was bide her time and hope that fate would present her with an opportunity to escape and somehow to alert Rivets as to where she was. Silent and uncomplaining, she allowed Metztil and Zolotov to lead her from Bole’s office and back down the seemingly endless corridors that honeycombed Mount Yamantau.
Her silence obviously irritated Metztil. ‘You bested me once before, day-hag,’ sneered the Grigori, ‘but only through trickery and the intervention of your accomplices. Now I will destroy you … destroy you at my leisure.’
‘You are long on excuses, Metztil,’ said Ella quietly, ‘but just like your brother, Semiazaz, you are short on ability. If we fought on equal terms, it would be you who would die; there has never been a Grigori who could defeat Lilith.’
‘Know this, no Lilithi could ever best Metztil of the Moon.’
Ella laughed. ‘What happened back in Los Angeles gives the lie to that, Metztil. Worse … you were defeated by a Fragile armed with a candlestick. Not terribly impressive.’
Zolotov chuckled. ‘A candlestick, you say, Miss Thomas? Not a weapon to be taken lightly, eh?’
Metztil was less than enamoured by Zolotov’s attempt at humour. She glowered at the man but he simply shrugged her silent rebuke aside, so instead she turned her ire on Ella.
‘I think, day-hag, that I will take the greatest pleasure in removing your tongue,’ and with that she pushed Ella through a doorway and into the room beyond.
It reminded Ella of the room where she’d been tortured by Josef Mengele back in the Demi-Monde. Perhaps a little more high-tech: the leather straps on the chair had been replaced by steel hoops and there was no thermopile bubbling away in the corner, but the room’s purpose, she suspected, was pretty much the same … the inflicting of pain. A correct surmise: a very cautious Zolotov used his Colt automatic to wave Ella into the chair and then closed the steel loops around her ankles and neck. Only when he was satisfied that she was helpless did he unlock the handcuffs and fasten her wrists to the arms of the chair.
Ella marshalled her strength and tested her restraints but it was useless: even the power of Lilith couldn’t fight steel.
Metztil smiled as she watched Ella struggle. ‘Those hoops, day-hag, would resist the strength of ten of your kind. It is impossible for you to escape. This is where the line of the Lilithi ends.’ She stepped forward, pressed the tip of her knife hard against Ella’s neck and then nodded to the cameraBots hovering around Ella. ‘But the joy of it is that, thanks to the wonder of noöPINC, all the Grigori will have the pleasure of experiencing your demise. As I flay you, as I pare the skin, inch by inch, from your body, they will experience my delight in torturing you, they will hear every scream you emit and see every flinch of your body. And when I finally taste your blood, they too will become drunk on the pleasure you give in death.’
‘You have a noöPINC?’
Metztil frowned. ‘And why should that interest you?’
‘I am simply surprised that you would wish to share your dishonour with your people.’
‘Dishonour?’
‘I defeated your brother and bested you when I was unarmed, and now you show that you are so afraid of me that the only way you have the courage to take your revenge is when I am manacled and helpless. You are a coward, Metztil of the Moon, as are all Grigori.’ And with that Ella spat at Metztil, the phlegm catching her full in the face.
THE GATHERING, LAS VEGAS: THE REAL WORLD
Tony Shepherd locked his sights on Norma Williams’ forehead and then gently squeezed the trigger. The suppressor reduced the noise of the shot to a loud phut. The butt pushed back into his shoulder. He blinked and then froze. The girl was still standing: he’d missed.
Impossible.
Impossible because as soon as he’d pulled the trigger he’d known that it was a killing shot.
Years of training kicked in and he readjusted his aim and fired the four remaining rounds in the magazine, bracketing the body of the target, spreading the shots to compensate for any glitch in the gun sights. But amazingly, astonishingly, he missed again. What was more, the girl didn’t even flinch when the shots impacted on the scenery behind her, gouging holes in the fibreglass columns and knocking the arm off a plaster statue.
MOUNT YAMANTAU, BASHKORTOSTAN: THE REAL WORLD
Her face contorted with hatred, Metztil used the back of her hand to wipe away the spittle and then used that same hand to slap Ella hard across the face. ‘You will suffer for that insult, day-hag.’
‘No, Metztil, it is your honour that will suffer … at least your brother had the courage to face me in combat, but you are just craven scum.’
The insults Ella was using had the desired effect. Metztil turned to Zolotov. ‘Seal the room! Make it so that the door may only be unlocked from the outside. I will fight you, Lilith, and I will kill you. There will be no escape.’
Zolotov laughed and then shook his head. ‘You must be joking. This girl is a Lilithi and our orders were to keep her manacled. There is no way I’m letting her loose.’
‘It is I who command here, Fragile,’ Metztil snapped, ‘and you will do as you are ordered.’
Zolotov bristled with indignation. ‘You’re mad: don’t you realise how dangerous she—’
Any further comment was stilled by Metztil drawing her knife from its sheath and pointing it at Zolotov. ‘If you do not obey me, Fragile, I will kill you.’
Still Zolotov hesitated but Metztil was an intimidating woman, so intimidating that he obviously decided that obedience was a better option than death. Nevertheless it was with real reluctance that he reset the door’s locks, retreated back into the furthest corner of the room and then drew his Colt. Ella wasn’t sure if he did this to protect himself from Metztil or from her.
Checking that the door was now securely locked, Metztil touched a button set in the wall and the steel hoops holding Ella snapped open. ‘In this final contest between Grigori and Lilithi let there be no doubt and no preference.’ With that Metztil threw a knife, hilt-first, to Ella.
‘Like I say, you’re mad …’ These were the last words Zolotov ever spoke.
Ella caught the blade and was out of the chair in a twinkling of an eye. She knew she had to attack while she had surprise on her side; if she was to survive, it was vital she was swift and ruthless. She sprang forward and somersaulted towards Zolotov, and it was the shock of seeing her do something that was humanly impossible that did for him. He stood transfixed and had barely begun to raise his gun before Ella had used her long fingernails to rip his throat away, leaving him a gasping, twitching, dying wreck, puddling blood on the floor.
But fleeting though this moment was, it was enough to give Metztil the chance to compose herself and to prepare for the fight. She dropped back, crouching into a fighting stance, her knife poised ready to strike.
‘So it comes to this, day-hag, blade against blade, Grigori against Lilithi.’
Metztil came at Ella in a frightening blur of stabs and slashes. Ella tried to defend herself but it seemed her Lilithian talents were subdued by her Fragile self and the consequence was that she didn’t move quickly enough. The tip of Metztil’s blade caught her cheek and sliced it open. The pain was shocking, but ignoring the blood streaming from the wound, she pirouetted backwards out of range of Metztil’s next thrust. The manoeuvre only gave her a moment’s relief. Metztil was on her in a flash and it was only by frantic parrying with her own knife that she survived the onslaught. But even as she blocked and dodged, the realisation came that Metztil was the most powerful opponent that she – or Lilith – had ever faced … and one she wouldn’t be able to best.
‘I will make your end slow, Lilith,’ Metztil said as she circled Ella. ‘I will savour your destruction.’ And with those words she was on Ella again, the point of her blade everywhere, testing and teasing, slicing a two-inch gash along Ella’s left arm, flicking a cut across her thigh.
And as the blood seeped from her wounds, so Ella could feel the strength draining from her body. Determined to make a fight of it, she attacked, trying to drive Metztil back, to find a weakness in the Grigori’s defence, but there was none. With effortless ease Metztil parried every thrust and cut, laughing as she did so, taunting Ella.
Ella was tired now and her legs and her knife arm felt leaden but Metztil still seemed fresh, still came at her, jittering her knife up and down, feinting left then right, trying to tease Ella into making a final, fatal mistake.
The end, Ella sensed, wasn’t far away. She felt groggy and her face ached like the devil. As Metztil moved in for another attack, Ella summoned all her remaining strength. It was now or never. This time when Metztil stabbed forward, Ella didn’t flinch back, instead she leaped toward the knife, taking its thrust in the shoulder, forcing it deep, then she twisted her body so she locked the blade, making it impossible for the Grigori to pull it free. Metztil’s eyes widened in astonishment but by then it was too late. Ella’s own blade arced around and stabbed Metztil through the chest. The Grigori gasped and then sank slowly to the ground.
PARADIGM HOUSE, LONDON: THE REAL WORLD
‘That’s not the real Norma Williams,’ screamed Bole at the Polly, ‘that’s a hologram projection. Get a team over there to eliminate her.’ The time for subtlety was over.
THE GATHERING, LAS VEGAS: THE REAL WORLD
‘I think we have incoming,’ shouted Oddie as she pointed to the IB agents shoving their way towards the stage. ‘Prepare to repel boarders.’ But big and strong though Oddie and Burlesque were, Norma knew they would be no match for the phalanx of IB agents.
A desperate Norma turned back to the microphone. ‘Friends,’ she shouted, ‘those who are in thrall to violence are trying to silence me.’ She pointed to the IB agents using their truncheons to smash their way through the crowd. ‘Now is the time to show whether you are with me in deed as well as in spirit. I ask you to stand firm against them and to use your Polly to record their vicious nature. Let the world see ParaDigm in its true colours. Meet violence with peace and hatred with compassion. Make love, not war!’
Immediately the ranks of Fun/Funs closed against the IB agents, thousands of Fun/Funs linking arms and stoically resisting their increasingly frantic efforts to beat their way through to the stage.
MOUNT YAMANTAU, BASHKORTOSTAN: THE REAL WORLD
Ella slumped against the wall, her breath coming in gasps, her shoulder on fire. Dizzy though she was with pain, she knew this was not the time to rest. She staggered across the room and used the pommel of her knife to smash the door’s locking mechanism. Now it was not only impossible for her to get out but equally impossible for the Grigori to get in, but she knew this would give her no more than a few minutes’ respite.
She turned towards the cameraBot hovering nearest to her. ‘Vanka,’ she gasped, ‘can you hear me?’
‘Of course, Ella,’ answered Vanka Maykov, ‘I hear and see everything.’
‘Then tell me … the noöPINC implanted in Metztil’s brain … is it possible to transfer it from one host to another?’
‘Yes, Ella
, it is irrelevant to noöPINC which body is host to it.’
‘So if I was to ingest Metztil’s noöPINC, would it function in my body?’
‘Of course, Ella, but I should warn you that Metztil’s blade was poisoned. You have, at best, only five minutes of consciousness remaining, so if you are of a mind to attempt this transfer, you should do so immediately. Any organic matter surrounding the PINC will delay its positioning in your brain.’
Trying to ignore the fug that was now stifling her ability to think, Ella went about the gruesome business of extracting Metztil’s PINC, slicing into the Grigori’s brain and cutting out the hippocampus. ‘How do I know if I’ve got the PINC?’
‘I’ll be able to advise you immediately you ingest it.’
Making a valiant attempt to stop herself retching at the smell, Ella put the piece of carrion in her mouth and swallowed.
‘You have been successful, Ella. I estimate that your new PINC will be in position in two minutes.’
Ella didn’t know if she would be granted two minutes’ grace; she could already hear hammering on the door from the corridor beyond.
‘Will the door hold that long?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is there no way I can get out of here?’
‘No, Ella. You will die in this room.’
‘So be it. Thank you for your help, Vanka.’ And with that she slumped to the floor to wait for the noöPINC to position itself in her brain. Oddly, Ella felt no fear of death: she was at peace with herself and with her destiny. It was right and proper, she decided, that the world should finally be rid of Lilith. She sighed. Her only regret was not being able to die in the arms of the man she loved.
The sudden shock of her being reunited with ABBA told her that her noöPINC was in place and, immediately, she sent a TELEpath message to Rivets giving him the location of the Grigori’s lair.
The exertion was too much: her head began to spin and her sight to fog. She was dying.
‘Ella …’
‘Yes, Vanka.’