I turn back to the Prior. “Perhaps you should enlighten us as to your deity’s divine intentions. After all, neither Cassius nor I are what you’d call the spiritual types.”
Delvecchio’s smile would chill the frost off a snowflake. “It was no coincidence I chose Calliope Spark as the vessel to deliver the Holy progeny.”
Calliope Spark. That name rattles my core. She was my mother. Lucian Spark’s mother. No. She only carried him. Me. Why is everything so foggy? “Don’t ever mention my mother’s name again.”
“Of course,” Delvecchio continues, seemingly oblivious to my request, “it wasn’t completely my decision. The hand of the deity guided mine in making the selection and fulfilling His will.” His reptilian eyes focus on me now. “She was such a beautiful creature, you know. Even as a child, before she blossomed into womanhood.” His eyes grow dark as another memory slithers through that sickened mind. “Of course, had she not saddled herself with the undeserving filth that was Lazaro Spark, she could have avoided all that suffering and lived a much different life.”
Lazaro. My father. Memories of both my former parents chisel their way through the ice enveloping me, one painful blow after another. I squeeze my eyes shut, straining to will them out of my brain, my heart.
Let go. There’s nothing you can do now. They’re both gone.
As is my little—
My eyes spring open and glare. I take a step closer to Delvecchio, heedless of the gun still clutched in his long, bony fingers. “The next time your filthy lips utter anyone in my family’s name you die.”
Delvecchio shakes his head. “Don’t you understand? They were never really your family.”
“I’m warning you, shaman,” I spit, relishing the welcome feel of the fury boiling in my veins.
“I’d listen to him, Delvecchio,” Cassius chimes in. “We both know what he’s capable of.”
Delvecchio ignores him. “I thought you wanted to know the truth, my son.”
I scoff. “That forked tongue of yours has never tasted truth. Just get on with it and end this farce.”
The Prior clears his throat and continues. “As a young acolyte, I was entrusted by the former Prior with the secret that had been passed down for generations. Through science, our deity had managed to create eternal life, a gift that would be bestowed on only those of the true faith, until the time when our great deliverer would join us in flesh and blood once again.”
Cassius laughs. “Of course. One of the scientists who oversaw the Sowing project was a member of your glorified cult and stole the genetic material from Nexus. I suppose you can add thievery to your growing list of virtues.”
Delvecchio scowls. “We are not thieves. We are the protectors of the Holy seed, our mission to protect the Deity’s progeny until the time he would walk amongst us once more.” He points to the destruction taking place outside the Citadel’s windows. “That time is at hand now.”
My mind’s racing. “So you’re the one responsible for my mother being impregnated with the Sown genetic material of Queran Embers.”
He nods. “Yes. She was having tests performed at one of the MedCens. While she was sedated, the procedure was performed. She never knew.”
My eyes are glued to Delvecchio’s skinny throat, calculating how loud the pop will be when I snap it. “There’s a word for people who violate and impregnate others without their consent.”
“I came to her beforehand,” he continues, “to try and make her see the error of remaining with the man you knew as your father.”
“But she rejected you, didn’t she?” Cassius asks. “Overcome with revulsion, no doubt.”
“And you retaliated against her,” I finish. “Ruined her life by forcing me into it.”
Delvecchio’s eyes burn like brushfires. “I made her a saint. In time, she will be revered as the mother of our deliverer. There will be song and prayer commemorating her throughout the ages. I saved her from the condemned life of obscurity she would have had at the side of your false father.”
“That’s perverted logic, even for you.” I’m seething. “So that’s it? I’m Queran Embers, your resurrected deity, standing once again before you in corporeal form. That’s what this has all been about?”
“I’m afraid you think too highly of yourself, boy,” a new voice proclaims from the darkness. “That honor belongs entirely to me.”
A figure moves out from the shadows.
Queran Embers.
THIRTY-ONE
For a few seconds, I think I must be losing my mind, that it’s just another one of the vivid flashbacks assaulting my addled brain. Except there’s none of that feeling of intense pain. No excruciating headaches that feel like my brain’s hemorrhaging the essence of Lucian Spark with each piercing throb. No memories bursting free of the mental grave buried deep inside me. I can barely feel anything at all through the shock that’s numbing my body and hitting the gas on my lungs and heart.
“Judging from that look on your face, you weren’t expecting me.” Queran’s tone is unnatural, like his voice has been processed through a myriad of electronic filters.
At first glance, it appears that the man before me could be a Flesher. His entire body’s shrouded in some sort of black bio-suit, his head encased behind a clear, sealed helmet. Tubes that look like giant veins protrude from the areas on the suit where his vital organs would be, over his heart, lungs, kidneys, and intestinal tract. These artificial arteries coil their way into various silver control boxes located around the waist, equipped with bleeping monitors and gauges.
I glance at Cassius. He’s more ruffled than I ever remember seeing him. For once, he’s not in total control of a situation and I can’t help but revel in his misery, even though it hurts to try and wrap my head around what’s going on.
“You didn’t know?” I ask him.
All he can do is shake his head, his eyes riveted on this monstrosity before us.
A burst of nervous laughter escapes me. “I’ve lost it completely.”
There’s an uncomfortable underlying slurping sound created by the machinery churning the thing’s bodily fluids. This is accompanied by the faint wheeze of oxygen pistoning through lungs, and the unnerving rhythm of a heartbeat.
“Your eyes aren’t deceiving you,” he rasps.
That face is the most disturbing part of all and nearly causes me to bolt from this place.
It’s my face—or at least the face I will have if I live another thirty or so years. Instead of my jet black hair, this man’s hair is streaked with salt and pepper. Where my olive-skinned complexion’s still smooth, illness has speckled his flesh with splotches of pale discoloration. Harsh lines dig into the outline of his jaw.
His grin frosts my blood. “I am definitely who you think I am.”
Protruding from his throat is a pulsing, gray device, which explains why the voice is eerily distorted. Disease has apparently claimed his vocal chords as well.
“It can’t be.” I can barely hear the sound of my own voice.
His eyes crawl all over my skin. “You know I speak the truth. Don’t fight it, boy.”
As unsettling as his appearance is, it’s the eyes that are almost too much to bear. Whatever malady has ravaged this body, it’s leeched the dark brown color he must have once shared with mine and coated them in a sickly, translucent film. All the pain, all the anger and cruelty that’s plagued my resurfacing memories, is deeply etched in those terrible eyes, an entire lifetime of vengeance and deceit reflecting that sick, twisted mind.
A reflection of the darkness that festers within me.
“You’re….” What I’m seeing is so inconceivable that my mind struggles to convey the rest of the words to my lips.
“Queran Embers in the flesh.” When he spreads his arms, it’s accompanied by the soft whir of the servomotors powering the limbs of his suit. “I can understand your surprise.”
“You died. Centuries ago.”
“Yet here I am.” He sighs, a sickening gurgle that m
akes the hair on my body stand on end. “Do not believe everything you hear.” He moves forward, trundling along on encased, motorized legs that slam into the marble floor with each step. “And now that I have returned, things are going to change.”
Delvecchio drops to his knees and bows his head. “Praise to the almighty Deity, resurrected at last.”
Queran bows his head. “Your holy purpose has now been served. Your order has paved the way for my return for centuries, continuing the experiments while preserving my body in the secret chambers of your Priory, awakening me from cryo when the time was right, and granting me access to this very tower via the hidden catacombs. Behold, paradise at last.” His machine powered arms grab the shocked Delvecchio around the neck and twist.
Crack!
The Prior’s lifeless body slumps to the floor.
I swallow to try and hydrate my parched throat. “How did you come back?”
Our eyes meet. I flinch but force myself to hold the connection. He’s staring at me with an eerie fascination. One of his encased fingers reaches out, stopping just short of my cheek. “I can’t believe how young you are. I can barely remember my life at that age.” Those milky eyes cloud over even more.
At first I mistake his look for anger. But then his reaction becomes crystal clear. It’s envy and bitterness. The same emotions I struggled with when Cole and I were starving, and I had to scavenge through dumpsters for scraps to stay alive. Had I never been recruited and escaped the daily grind of Parish life, who knows what lengths I would have gone to in ensuring our continued survival?
Queran catches me staring, and I look away. “Do not become too attached to youth, boy. I assure you, it’s quite fleeting. And by the time you learn to appreciate it, it’s already become a shadow.”
“So the Sowing wasn’t enough, Queran?” Cassius finally asks, his voice regaining some of his lost confidence with each word. “You had to find some other way to cheat death.”
Queran’s treads revolve and spin him around to face Cassius. He pauses at the sight of him, and his oxygen and heart gauges go into overdrive. “I have always been a man that prefers to keep his options open. You strike me as that same sort of person, Thorn is it now? I remember when your name was—”
“Yes, my name’s Cassius Thorn.” Despite the pain he must be in, Cassius pulls himself to his full height and meets Queran’s stare. “It’s a name you should get very used to, at least for the very limited time you have left on this humble plane of existence.”
Queran’s mechanized laugh is a horrible mix of wheezing and deep gurgling. “In my lifetime I’ve encountered countless young men like you, arrogant, overconfident fools that are too clever for their own good.” His eyes crawl back and forth between me and Cassius. “Needless to say, none of them outlived me. And I do not see that trend changing any time soon.”
“So you had your genes Sown,” I interrupt. “But you took other measures to preserve your legacy.”
“Yes.” His treads pirouette slowly around Cassius until he’s directly in front of me. “After the Ash Wars, when I emerged from stasis and founded the Establishment, there was an outbreak of a highly contagious biological agent that caused mental instability, eventually leading to homicidal behavior and death. Fortunately, the outbreak was contained with an acceptable number of casualties.” He touches his chest. “Unfortunately, not before I was exposed. On the brink of death, I was placed in cryogenic suspension and confined to a top secret location until such time that an anti-virus could be developed.” He focuses on Cassius. “The true nature of the disease’s origin was never discovered. But I had my theories.”
Cassius’ eyes could burn a hole through Ember’s suit. “Consider it a parting gift.”
Despite the throbbing in my head, my mind’s fitting in the missing pieces. “Asclepius Valley,” I say to Cassius. “That virus my team and I were exposed to while trying to retrieve the GX07 to counter the Biological Magnetic Pulse, last year. The disease infected all those scientists and their families stationed there. Turned them into savage killers. That’s what Embers is talking about, isn’t it. That was all you?”
“Yes, it was,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I thought it would be poetic justice to finish what I’d started so long ago against Queran’s legacy when I was nothing but Case 1, the lab rat. Asclepius Valley was what you’d call a trial run.” He smiles and focuses his attention on Queran. “Little did I know I’d have a much sweeter target. I may yet get to finish what I started.”
“You always were prone to delusions, even when we were children,” Queran says. “I can assure you I have a permanent cure for that.”
“What about all those people that died because of your little experiment?” I spit the question at Cassius. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see their faces, all that suffering. You turned them into little more than rabid Canids who had to be put down. All for some petty revenge over something that happened ages ago. You’re the monsters that need to be put down,” I turn to Queran. “Both of you.”
The veins in Cass’s temples throb, his face red. “You can quit the self-righteous act. You’re an extension of him. As such, you’re responsible for all the lives he’s destroyed. You’re no better than either of us. You’re a monster, too.”
“Shut up. None of this has anything to do with me. You’ve done nothing but inflict harm on my own friends and family.”
Cassius moves toward me. “I was only doing what must be done to destroy his legacy.” His eyes flit to Queran and back to me. “Your legacy. I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” My blood’s on fire.
A blinding explosion outside the panoramic windows interrupts us. We all turn to stare at the battle still raging across the skies.
Above the Citadel, the Lady Liberty’s sustained a massive hit. The vessel begins to cant and drop.
Reflexively, I activate the opticom.
It takes me a moment to figure out the display on Cage and Arrah’s channel. It’s the badly damaged server room. The image is on its side, as if the opticom’s wearer were lying on the ground. Aside from the Fleshers milling in the background, dark fluid flows into the cam’s range. The image remains static. Lifeless.
Blinking away the wet rage from my eyes, I flick to the next channel, Corin’s. All I can see is the dark interior of the escape pod, the hatch still smoking from where it’s been blown open. Hordes of Fleshers darken the horizon. The light filters through the mangled hatch, reflecting on a small object.
The chron I gave Cole. It’s dented and flecked with blood.
My finger’s numb as it jams on the last channel.
Digory studies the holo of the Parish map, monitoring the attack. Battalions of Fleshers tear through the streets, consuming everything in their wake like a swarm of locusts. The last semblance of humanity has left his face. He’s gone now.
Forever.
“Your resistance is dying,” Cassius says to me. “It won’t be much longer.” His eyes lock onto mine. “I suppose I no longer need you to give me those codes. Why settle for a copy when I can get them right from the original source.”
Queran touches my shoulder. “I admire your fortitude. You are just like I used to be. Idealistic. Head strong. But I am afraid there can only be one of us.”
His words penetrate the numbness. “What are you saying?”
“He means,” Cassius interjects, “That he no longer has any use for you.”
Queran’s eyes look me up and down, admiringly. “On the contrary. He still has the most vital use of all, and his sacrifice will not be in vain.” He cups my face in those cold, metallic hands. “You will always be a part of me and will continue to live inside me, I promise you.”
I pull away from his grasp. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I’m done with you. Both of you. And all of this.”
Cassius’s entire expression changes. A satisfied look spreads across his face. He closes in. “Don’t you see? N
ow that he’s been resurrected he doesn’t plan on sharing his power. There is only one use you have for him now.”
The truth hits me before Cassius can continue. I whirl to face Queran. “My vital organs. They’re an identical match for you.”
Queran nods. “Yes, that is true. The virus has compromised most of my vital tissues, confining me to this infernal device.” He glides closer. “But through you I can function again, as I once did, retaining my dignity and commanding the respect I deserve.”
I take a step backwards. “So what happens to me? I just become a living organ donor to be disposed of once there’s nothing left. What about my life?”
A look of frustration and pity spreads across Queran’s face. “Don’t you understand what I’ve been saying? You are me. Everything I am, all of my memories, my experience, my deepest secrets, they live inside of you. Our relationship is perfectly symbiotic. You will continue to live inside of me.”
My back presses against one of the marble columns. “What about Lucian Spark’s life? His experiences? The memories of his family and friends? What happens to all of that? It just ceases to exist like it never really mattered? Like I never really mattered?”
“Did you ever really?” Queran’s eyes ooze contempt now. “You can imagine my disgust when I discovered that I’d been reborn as a common street urchin, living in squalor, barely surviving, watching the people you claim to love die all around you. You call that a life worth remembering, Lucian?”
His words shake me to the core. I remember lying awake some nights, wishing my parents had never had me and burdened me with the responsibility of having to take care of my little brother. Even with Mrs. Bledsoe’s help, the weight of the responsibility was crushing. It would have been much easier to hop on a freighter, run away, leave everything behind me.
But at the end of the day, sitting at the side of my brother’s bed, tucking him in and reading him those stories, all those feelings would wash away. He was the only thing making that miserable life worth living, the spark of hope in the overwhelming darkness trying to suffocate me on a daily basis.
The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3) Page 28