by David Beers
Praise be to Corinth, she thought, all doubts of the Priests and this Disciple thrown away.
Next, the large transports pulled around the side of the building, taking their place in the assembly. The soldiers inside were ready to give their lives for Corinth, to do what was necessary to keep the True Faith alive and pure.
And, finally, Raylyn’s own transport joined the armada.
She leaned back in her seat. The attack would take place early tomorrow morning, when those in the compound were most likely asleep.
Raylyn’s mind went back to Manor as the journey began. She’d been thinking about him almost constantly the past 24 hours, unable to fully put him out of her mind even when she tried.
She had called him, and he’d come.
She had needed him, and he’d been there.
Even now, on the eve of a battle that might claim her life, she was wondering if she was in love—if this was what it actually felt like. Thoughts of the Disciple, of the weapon they were going to find, they seemed somehow less important.
She hadn’t been able to tell Manor much the next morning, but she’d thanked him. First with her words, and then with her body. There hadn’t been much time, but as they lay together after love, he’d asked her if she planned on sticking around. Did she plan on staying with him?
She said yes. That she wanted to stay with him.
He’d nodded and said they should talk when she got back from her trip.
Raylyn agreed, and now that’s all she wanted. Was just to make it back to him. To have that talk.
David’s head was bent down in prayer as Christine and Rebecca entered the room.
He’d been this way for hours. He wasn’t seeking the Unformed. He knew what must be done, and going to the Unformed would yield nothing more. It was now up to him.
He was praying for strength.
His sight had been returning. Slowly, but it was coming back. He didn’t know if the Unformed was halting the woman’s disruption of it, or if he was simply getting used to her presence. Either way, he could see further, and earlier in the morning he’d witnessed another problem.
“David?” Rebecca asked from behind him.
He kept his eyes closed, wanting just another few minutes. He’d called them, but he didn’t want to tell them what was coming. He didn’t want it to happen.
This is what you were made for. This is what the past 20 years have been building toward. You don’t hide from it now that it’s finally here. You have to face it, because if you don’t, no one else will.
“David, can you hear me?” Rebecca asked.
He stood.
Give me strength, he prayed. Give me strength to lead us through this.
He turned around.
He didn’t waste time, just walked the few feet between he and his sister, and embraced her. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her, burying his head in her neck. He felt her awkwardness at first, but she loosened and put her arms around him as well. He held on for a few seconds, and then pulled back, turning his head to Christine.
He hugged her next.
When he stepped away, both looked surprised.
“What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked. “What was that for?”
Are you so harsh that a hug means something awful is about to happen? he wondered, but only for a second before shoving the thought away. There wasn’t time for him to self analyze. He didn’t have that luxury.
“Tomorrow we go to war,” he said, feeling his kindness drain away.
“What?” Christine asked.
“The traitor told them our location.”
“How do you know?” Rebecca said.
“I’m able to see again. Not everything. I don’t know who the traitor is yet, but I saw some of the conversation that took place. I’ve seen the ships the Prevention Division is bringing. They’ll arrive just before dawn.”
The two were quiet for a second, then Rebecca said, “And Rhett’s not here.”
“No, he’s not. He’s doing something else for me, something that must be done. We have to stand.”
Rebecca was looking at David’s feet, lost in thought. Christine turned from him with tears in her eyes and walked over to the far window.
“How could someone do this?” she asked. “How could they trade everything we love, and for what? What are they getting out of it?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but we don’t have time to dwell on it. We have a few hours to make our preparations. Tomorrow morning, they’re going to be here and if we’re not ready, we will all die. Everyone you know. Everyone you love. Do you understand that?”
Christine nodded, looking out his study’s window.
“Rebecca?” he asked.
She looked up. There weren’t tears in her eyes, and David was glad for it. He needed help right now, not to explain or console. Not to them.
Should he have sent Rhett away? Could his timing have been worse?
He didn’t have a choice, though. The command had been unmistakable, and if David had left instead … he would have returned to nothing.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice harsh enough to turn Christine around so that both women looked at him. “We will deal with the traitor when this is finished. For now, you two need to pull together. We have less than 12 hours before they arrive, and I need you both. Do you understand?”
He saw nods.
“Go get the compound ready. Report back here in six hours.”
The two said nothing else. They stared for a moment longer, both nodding once more, then left the room. They knew what to do. The traitor may have given away their location, but that didn’t mean David wasn’t ready for the True Faith’s arrival.
Twenty years.
That’s how long he’d been preparing for this battle.
Three hours had passed since David’s announcement went through the building.
The traitor wasn’t surprised that he knew, only felt sick. David knew everything and the traitor understood that. Perhaps he’d been blocked for a bit, perhaps their own preparations had hidden the details … but eventually David would find out all.
The compound was like a beehive. Everyone moving in different directions, but all working toward the same goal. The traitor did their part, not giving anyone reason to think they weren’t fully invested in the compound’s complete survival.
David had seen the force coming, and he said the first grouping would be empty transports equipped with weapons. They hoped to destroy the compound without losing a single man, and then send in their soldiers. The traitor thought that sounded exactly like the Prevention Division. They were simultaneously cowards and underestimating David.
Transports alone wouldn’t stop anything.
The traitor watched as the ClearViews moved to strategic positions up and down the outside of the compound. They weren’t normal ClearViews, but military grade, and when activated, they would create a digital shield around the building.
You didn’t tell the PD about that, the traitor thought. You didn’t tell them anything they’d face when they arrived.
That’s not true. You told them that they would die.
The traitor hadn’t given the PD everything, but tomorrow, when the ships arrived—the traitor would do their part to try and ensure David’s death.
Twenty-One
The Old World Ministry
What’s wrong? Rhett asked.
It’s not important, Christine said.
It sounds important.
No, right now David wants you to focus on the woman. Get her and bring her back. He doesn’t want anything else getting in your way.
Rhett didn’t like how Christine’s nanotech felt. Something was definitely wrong—and hadn’t it been before he left? Yes … but Christine hadn’t sounded this stressed. Maybe not ever before.
Christine …, he began.
No. Not right now. There will be time after. David wants you focused, okay?
David wanted a lot of thi
ngs right now and Rhett wasn’t sure any of them were right; alas, it didn’t matter. His thoughts were his—David’s thoughts drove action.
Where is she? he asked.
She’s at the Bancroft Motel. It’s on the outskirts. He says it’s small and run down. In room 46.
Okay, Rhett said.
How far away are you?
I’m an hour outside of New Rome.
There was a brief silence, and Rhett thought Christine might be doing some mental math regarding the time; though he didn’t know why she would—probably something to do with whatever else was bothering her.
Okay. He wants you to let me know when you have her.
I will, Rhett said, though he felt he should say more. Perhaps Christine didn’t understand what he was attempting here—she didn’t sound worried for his safety—but Rhett did. He knew that in the next hour or two, he might not be a part of this world anymore. Christine was militant, but fiercely loyal to David and the Unformed. They’d been through a lot, and if Rhett died … he just thought he should say something else.
Hey.
Yeah? she asked.
I’m glad you were with me during the past decade, Christine. I’m glad we did this together.
There was a brief pause and when Christine’s nanotech connected with his, he felt her emotion. Me too, Rhett.
Another second passed, and Rhett said, I’ll contact you when I have her.
Okay, Christine said, sounding as if she might be tearing up. Talk soon.
Rhett pulled the car onto the road, still not completely sure of his driving ability. He’d done the car thing before in his travels, but it was always difficult relearning. He didn’t understand how people in the Old World dealt with it. How they didn’t simply rise up against their Ministry and threaten either transports or overthrow.
He smiled at the thought.
It was the first time he’d smiled since arriving.
A pistol sat on the seat next to Rhett. It’d been waiting for him in the glove compartment when he picked up the car. It was the last thing David had been able to supply him with, his hand stretching once more. Rhett had never fired a gun before, though he understood intellectually how to do so. Hold it. Pull the trigger. He didn’t know if it would make any difference in front of the woman. Doubted it.
Rhett drove the hour into New Rome. His nanotech couldn’t tell him how to get to the motel, so he stopped and asked for directions. It took him another ten minutes to get there, and when he arrived, he parked across the street.
Christine had been right. The thing wasn’t much to look at, but neither was much else in the Old World.
He thought of Rebecca as he looked upon the motel, knowing that if he were to die in the next few minutes, he didn’t want to do so without speaking to her once more.
Hey, he said, his nano finding hers across oceans.
A few minutes passed but Rhett waited patiently. He wasn’t going into that motel without talking to Rebecca first. More than anyone else, they had been through this together. Dealing with David, his anger, his solitude, yet keeping faith in what the two of them were here to do.
More time passed and then her voice came to him.
Hey.
She sounded meek. Tired.
How are you? Rhett asked. Tears were suddenly in his eyes.
I’ve been better, she said with a bit of a chuckle.
Rhett thought about asking her what he’d asked Christine—what was happening at the compound. No. Don’t waste time with that.
You know where I’m at? he asked instead.
Yes. David told me. Are you to her yet?
Almost, Rhett said, staring at the motel in front of him. I hate the Old World. It’s so drab.
Another chuckle from Rebecca, and Rhett could tell she was crying.
Thanks, Rhett said. For everything. For this life.
No, Rebecca said, the tears falling harder now. Thank you, Rhett. I love you.
I love you, too.
I’ll see you soon, okay? When you get back?
Rhett smiled, his vision blurry. Yeah. As soon as I get back … I better go. Bye, Rebecca.
Bye, she said, her voice breaking one last time.
The connection ended and Rhett sat alone in his car.
Have faith, he thought. You’ve always had faith, because you’ve known David’s power. He wouldn’t have sent you here, not unless he thought you could do it. He wouldn’t jeopardize the Unformed.
He told himself these things, and discarded the thoughts saying that David wasn’t what he once was—that the pressure had warped him and his mind. He threw them out because they had no place here.
Rhett had sworn his life, taken the Blood of the Touched, and now the time had come to give everything.
Rhett stepped from the car and walked across the street.
Cardinal Wen Nitson hated his current physical location, yet would have been nowhere else—not for all the world’s riches.
The past 24 hours had been sleepless and full of near panic. Wen was almost at a breaking point, and he knew it. He held no delusions; any additional pressure cast atop him would cause his implosion. He wouldn’t say such things to his superior—the Pope—but it was true.
Luckily, he thought the pressure might dissipate in a few moments. Which was why he currently hated where he was, but at the same time, absolutely wanted to be here.
Please, Heavenly Father. Make it so, he prayed.
Cardinal Wen Nitson hovered high above the ground. He sat next to a pilot, both of them in a transport like those used in the New World. The Church of course had them, though were rarely used. Optics, and all.
The transport was high enough that it couldn’t be seen from the ground
Wen could view the world beneath as the transport’s floor magnified his vision, which was the whole point of this exercise.
He was staring at a motel beneath him. The Bancroft Motel—some small, shitty thing he’d never heard of (and without this giant fuck up, never would have heard of). A man was crossing the street beneath him, but Wen paid him no attention.
The Cardinal would take credit for this, of course. He needed all the help he could get with the Pope. However, he’d nothing to do with this fortuitous turn of events—not outside of the direct order he gave his subordinates.
“FIND HER!”
Perhaps it was that leadership which led to this, though, and so his taking credit wasn’t a lie. Without his directive, none of this would have happened.
One of his subordinates—Wen didn’t know who—had looked at the roads connecting the Sesam house to their family up north. Apparently, the subordinate thought a bit more out of the box than Wen, and asked what would happen if the family veered from the intended course.
From there, he’d sent out pictures to every motel he came across. All three were included—the father, the woman, and the Acolyte.
A hit came back.
On the father. He’d checked into this shitty motel, probably coming to the conclusion that his extended family was being watched.
None of it mattered to Wen, though. The reasons why. Who did it. (The credit would matter later, but not at the moment.) Right now, all he cared about was relieving the pressure building on him, and to do that, he needed to capture the damned girl down there.
His men would be arriving soon. Fifty, all armed, yet with strict instructions that no harm befall her. They would die before the girl, Wen had told them, and he meant it. The Pope wanted her alive, and that’s exactly what he was going to get. The Most Holy Father.
Wen realized his hands had formed fists and his chest was breathing in much too deeply. He relaxed his hands, trying to regain some composure.
“How much longer?” he asked the pilot.
“Tracking shows them arriving in five minutes.”
Nicki’s reality was different than anyone else’s.
To her, reality no longer existed as the physical world she had always occupied. For a little w
hile—a very brief time—her reality had been separated between visions and the physical world. No longer.
The physical world was now her visions, and her visions the physical world.
Sometimes she saw her father and other times she saw the stranger who tried to kill her in her bed. Sometimes she saw neither, but rather the dark man with the gray eyes.
More people were coming into her reality now, growing more numerous by the moment.
Most of the time, Nicki didn’t know where she was at; the world moved too quickly around her. A motel room. A study of some sort. A flying machine—she thought they were called transports. At one point, she thought she saw hundreds of them all at once, though that had been quick and she wasn’t completely sure.
What Nicki did know with certainty was that people were coming for her.
A lot of them.
She saw the man in the car, had actually sat next to him. He’d been talking to someone, though she didn’t know how because he said nothing aloud. Some of his thoughts came to her, and she knew he was scared. Sad, too. Nicki thought the person he spoke with was sad as well.
He was coming for her now. She watched as he stepped from his car.
Someone flew above her, too. Nicki saw him, a chubby man who wore a Priest’s collar. She supposed he was a Priest, technically, but from what she felt—he held none of the love Nicki once associated with the Church. He wasn’t as bad as the man who tried to kill her, though. The chubby Priest was also scared, but Nicki thought for different reasons than the person in the car.
The more she saw, the more confusing reality grew. Because it wasn’t just seeing anymore, it was feeling. Emotions came to her that weren’t hers, things she shouldn’t know. It felt like mixing different paint colors, creating something that shouldn’t be, something that wasn’t any color at all.
She needed to keep these people separate from herself.
Her father. She saw his face again.
He was petrified, and had been holding her for … but Nicki didn’t know long. She didn’t even remember he was holding her until she was brought back to the room. That’s what it felt like—being carried to and fro.