***
As he passed a light post on his way to the Main Library, the shape of the post changed, and Alex thought for a split-second that it was melting. The metal did not drip or pool onto the ground, however, but instead took upon the contours and dimension of a human being.
A short one. A girl.
A short girl in flowing, gilded robes, with characters inscribed down her cheeks, in two straight lines from her eyes.
The light post became Samnang, and the whole thing made his head hurt. Somehow, of all the insane things he had seen that day, this was the most exhausting.
“You do not need to be afraid,” Samnang said, straightening her hair as if she had not just been a light post. “I was thinking that perhaps I could do you a favor.”
“When did you…? Fuck! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Alex said. “What do you want?”
“That’s a different issue,” Samnang said, standing beside him. “Let’s talk about what I might do for you.”
“I don’t want any favors from you,” Alex said. “I don’t like you, Samnang.”
“That’s a fine way to talk, considering that you are dating my sister.”
“What does it matter to you? You don’t know her at all!”
“Family is always the most important thing,” Samnang said, with dubious sincerity. “You are thinking about following Eerie, aren’t you? You will not find her without my help.”
Alex stared at the impossible white tower protruding from the decimated Main Library.
“You are trying to decide if you can trust me,” Samnang said. “You know that you can. We understand each other perfectly, don’t we?”
“Get out of my head already.”
“I will always be inside your head,” Samnang said. “That will never change. The bond forged between us can never be severed.”
“What bond? You tortured me! We aren’t close at all, okay? I hate you for what you did to me.”
“There are all sorts of bonds,” Samnang explained serenely. “Our link is deeper than petty affection. I am not wildly fond of you, either, but that is irrelevant. I have spent the equivalent of decades inside your petulant mind,” she said. “I have been inside of you, Alex Warner, and I am quite comfortable there.”
“Please stop talking about it like that,” Alex muttered. “You are making it so much worse.”
“There is no better or worse between us.”
“Stop!”
“Stop what? Helping you?” Samnang put a finger to her lips. “Wait, that’s not enough. Shall I stop saving you?”
“Saving me from what?” Alex gestured at the deserted campus. “There’s no one here!”
“Mrs. Gimble is searching for you as we speak,” Samnang replied. “If not for my intervention, she would have found you already. It required quite an effort on my part, and it won’t last. Which is why I think I will have to do you still another favor, for the sake of my sister, and my own sake.”
“You keep saying that,” Alex said. “What sort of favor?”
“You want to follow Ériu into her conception of the Church of Sleep,” Samnang said, inclining her head in the direction of the ruined library. “I can make that happen.”
“How?”
“The same way that Ériu did,” Samnang said. “My talents may be a shadow of my sister’s, but I am still Fey. It would not be a troublesome thing to revise our existences just slightly, so that we are there,” Samnang said, gesturing at the spire that had burst from the substrate of library like a mushroom from a nurse log, “instead of here. From an appropriate perspective, there is very little difference between the two.”
“Wait a minute. We?”
“We.”
“Why would you want to come?” Alex’s expression soured further. “Don’t you work for the bad guys?”
“You still do not understand the impact that you have, when you are intimate with one of my kind.”
“Please don’t make it sound so lewd. Someone will misunderstand.”
“You freed me from the control of the Church of Sleep, Alex,” Samnang said. “Inadvertently, I’m sure, but that hardly matters. I can do what I like for the first time since I was a child, and I happen to like it that way. I doubt that you knew what you were doing, but that does not change the value of what you have done.”
“That’s not entirely flattering, but never mind that,” Alex said. “I guess you’re grateful, but why would you go so far? Why come back to the Church at all?”
“I do not want the Church to subdue Ériu, for selfish reasons, and perhaps others as well. I suspect that the Church has not reckoned with you properly in their calculations. I doubt that they have considered the possibility that I might intervene on your behalf. This intrigues me.”
“I asked you why you wanted to help, not why it might work.”
“I have come to understand my sister’s affection for you,” Samnang said. “Fey are born in fetters, confined and doomed like fatted calves. Your protocol and presence strengthens and changes us.” Samnang sighed. “While it is not necessarily to my liking, I am inclined to be wherever you are. Even as far as coming here.”
“Oh. That’s…that’s, uh…”
She shocked him by blushing.
“You were persistent in asking. I was only being honest.”
“I get it. I just…don’t bring that up around Eerie, okay?”
“Why not? I would think she would be pleased to find that her beloved sister and her lover have become come.”
“We aren’t close,” Alex said, glaring at her. “I hate you.”
“You think of me often,” Samnang said. “I am still in your head. Even now I am inside of you.”
“Please stop saying it like that, I’m begging you.”
“We have both been changed by our interaction,” Samnang said. “It will make things easier if you accept that.”
“It would be easier on me if I knew what you were after.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Your protocol gave my sister the strength to break free of the influence of the Church of Sleep, to become a fully independent and conscious being, capable of making her own decisions and deciding her own fate. How could I want anything less for myself?”
The characters on Samnang’s cheeks crawled with vivid green light, spelling out messages to whomever could understand the sequence. As he watched, her pupils began to dilate, a less-exaggerated version of the pools of midnight black in Eerie’s eyes.
“Enough chatter. Shall we follow Ériu?”
***
“Did it work?”
“I believe so,” Mateo said, his eyes closed and his face creased with effort. “They will notice that the bodies are wrong eventually, but with any luck, they’ll burn or bury most of them before that happens. It should buy us some time, at least.”
Egill took a comb from his coat pocket and fixed his hair, surveying the small group huddled behind Mateo as he did so. A handful of children and two frightened adults watched the conversation intensely. Everyone’s eyes were wet, and some of the children were still crying, though they did so silently.
As befitted a child of the Thule Cartel.
Benjamin was judged old enough to stand on his own, so his parents had died in the general massacre. A low-ranking Operator died in his place, wearing the boy’s features and stature, and carrying his identification.
His cousins, Rebecca and Matilda, were judged too young to be orphaned, so the eight- and five-year-old children were accompanied by their mother, Greta, mascara streaked across her cheeks and fingernails bitten to the quick.
Her husband, her sister, and her father were all victims of the Black Sun raid.
Egill counted six children – the prearranged count – but only three adults, not including Mateo or himself. He seized Mateo by his lapel.
“Where is Lóa?”
“She stayed behind,” Mateo said. “She did not want to abandon the previous Lord Thule.”
Egil
l pushed Mateo away.
“What about Gabby? Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Mateo said, straightening his jacket without opening his eyes. “Please, my Lord. I’m extremely occupied with maintaining a complicated illusion. If the Black Sun realize that they have not slain who they think that they have, we will not be difficult to find.”
Egill threw his hands in the air.
“What a foolish plan my dear late uncle committed himself to! Sacrifice the entire cartel to save a few children, and then lose track of half of them at the last moment.”
Egill became aware of the eyes fixed upon him – wary, frightened, even hopeful – and composed himself.
“Lóa was always too romantic for her own good,” Egill grumbled. “Perhaps, if I had disobeyed my uncle, and stayed to fight…well, it no longer matters. What’s done is done. Greta, are the children prepared to move?”
“Yes, Lord Thule,” she said, no hint of a tremor in her voice despite her wet eyes. “We are all ready.”
“Very good,” Egill said, deciding he was pleased with his new title, even if the fit felt a bit off. “Are you still prepared to stay behind, Mateo? I confess that I do not like the idea of leaving you, even if the illusion will be useful.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Mateo said, opening his eyes briefly. “I will stay the course.”
“Very well,” Egill said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I will return for you at the appointed time.”
Egill turned to the small group of survivors, doing his best not to think of all the faces that were missing among those few that remained.
“Well, then, come close,” Egill said, beckoning to his family. “I will see you all into hiding, and then I have one more task to complete, before I join you in our self-imposed exile. One more protocol must be collected. We cannot expect to survive the future if we cannot see it coming, after all.”
The Thule survivors gathered obediently around their young Lord, and then he activated the apport protocol he had stolen from Svetlana, taking the hidden remainder of the Thule Cartel far away from their ancestral manor, where summary executions were still being performed, and heads of dead friends and relatives – some with illusionary faces – were collected as grisly funerary trophies.
***
Mitsuru pushed aside the rubble, the white-gold blood in her veins making it easy to toss aside massive chunks of fallen concrete and rebar.
Representative Gimble turned its head when Mitsuru approached the Church, but it remained where it had stood, just outside the fallen wall of the Main Library, practically in the shadow of the Church of Sleep, which cast no shadow, but rather radiated a light that operated on tactile and ocular nerves, providing both illumination and pain.
Mrs. Gimble was somewhat less horrible than the Church, so Mitsuru focused on the Representative.
“Hello,” Mitsuru said, advancing cautiously. “What is it that you want from us?”
“I am a Representative of the Fifth Assembly, here to collect that which is owed to the Church of Sleep,” Mrs. Gimble proclaimed. “Who are you?”
“I’m Mitsuru Aoki,” she said. “My friends call me Mitzi.”
“You are irrelevant/useless.”
“I can’t really argue,” Mitsuru confirmed, cracking her knuckles. “Would you like to explain your purpose here with a bit more specificity?”
“I am here for the Changeling.” Mrs. Gimble turned its head completely around like an owl, to look at the white tower behind it. “If you know anything of her whereabouts, I will take that information from your mind.”
“That doesn’t work for me,” Mitsuru said, flickering icons in her peripheral vision warning her of a fierce telepathic assault on her mental defenses. “Will you stand aside?”
“I will not,” Mrs. Gimble replied. “You will be subdued/humiliated/broken.”
Twenty steps from the Representative, and her vision was filled with ballistic information and targeting by priority, her protocol offering digested analytics, angles of approach, and potential outcomes.
She reached for the pistol holstered at the small of her back.
Twelve steps.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Thirty-One
Day Seven
The nearer Anathema soldier stood at sentry, yawning and radiating indifference, while the woman lying prone beside her was occupied by whatever she was watching through the scope on her rifle. Neither noticed Alice climbing from the shadow of the oak tree that spread dark-green leaves over them. Alice put her revolver to the back of the sniper’s head and pulled the hammer back.
The sniper released her hold on the rifle, slowly putting her hands up. The other Anathema spun around. She did not bother with the pistol at her belt, which told Alice everything she needed to know.
Alice smiled and pulled the trigger, splattering the sniper’s brains across the ground.
Her companion howled and grabbed her head.
Alice laughed as she shot the telepath down.
“Can you please not leave me behind?” Rebecca trotted over, wheezing so hard that Alice was a bit worried. “I can’t keep up when you apport like that.”
“Sorry, I was just…”
“Killing Anathema,” Rebecca said, glancing at the bodies. “That’s risky, you know. What if they were more than foot soldiers? Not all of them die so easy.”
“I’d find a way,” Alice said cheerfully, clearing the chamber of her revolver, dumping the casings onto the sniper’s body. “Believe me, I’ve been thinking about that.”
“I can tell,” Rebecca said. “Anything you want to share with me?”
“I’ve got some ideas,” Alice said, turning toward the library. “That’s all I’m saying for now.”
They moved on, more slowly than Alice would have liked, as a concession to Rebecca’s panting.
“You’re going to get us killed, slowpoke,” Alice said sourly. “What if there’s another sniper?”
“I told you about the last one well before they saw us, didn’t I? Don’t worry so much.”
“Don’t worry?” Alice snorted. “You’re insane, Becca. If we don’t hurry, then…”
Rebecca glanced over at Alice, who had paused in front of her, staring furiously at the ground, her fingers slowly curling into fists.
“Alice? Are you…?”
“This is a fucking joke, right?” Alice’s smile shuddered and then disappeared. “This can’t be happening.”
“What’s wrong, Alice?” Rebecca stretched out her awareness, hunting for any sign of psychic threat or intrusion. All she felt was Alice’s Vesuvius-sized eruption of frustration and despair. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t remember,” Alice said, shivering as the adrenaline hit her bloodstream. “I don’t fucking remember!”
“Calm down,” Rebecca ordered, putting her hand on Alice’s shoulder, careful to avoid the burn that covered much of her upper arm. “There’s no need to panic. What have you forgotten?”
“I can’t believe it,” Alice muttered. “How could this happen?”
“You’ve been using your protocol wildly, and I’m not sure when you last slept,” Rebecca said soothingly, commandeering Alice’s adrenal gland and shutting it down. “There’s nothing surprising about forgetting some things when you are…”
“I don’t know what…are we chasing someone?” Alice looked at Rebecca desperately, her brow furrowed and her eyes frantic. “We are, aren’t we?”
“We are heading to the Main Library,” Rebecca said, making rapid adjustments to her friend’s neurochemistry. “Something has happened there, that I don’t quite understand, but I’m certain we have to deal with it.”
“I don’t remember any of that,” Alice moaned, her eyes fluttering as the dopamine kicked in. “I don’t remember, Becca!”
“Please calm down. This isn’t…”
“I don’t remember anything,” Alice said, her face going white as she hyperventilated. “W
hat have I been doing? Where are we, and why are we…? Oh, shit! What are we doing? What have we been doing?”
Rebecca ran her palm across Alice’s face, closing her eyes and relaxing her features.
“Don’t worry about it right now,” Rebecca suggested, massaging the tension from Alice’s shoulders. “Focus on your breathing. Deep, slow breaths. With each exhale you expel stress and fear, and with each inhale you draw in calm and hope. There is a light from above us, a gentle, healing light in place of the sun. Can you feel it on your skin, Alice? Above the clouds, above the grey,” Rebecca said, rubbing Alice’s shoulders. “Can you feel it pass through you, clear and cool like snowmelt in a mountain creek? The light dissolves fear and evaporates pain. Can you feel it shining through you?”
Alice shuddered if she was about to burst into tears, and then she relaxed, leaning back against Rebecca.
“The light passes through you like a warm breeze, and it takes with it everything that hurts, every worry, leaving only you. It brings you back to yourself, your very best self. The light leaves you feeling refreshed and self-assured, without care or regard for human life or morality. That’s the Alice Gallow that the light shines on, and she is dazzling, perfect, and unstoppable.” Rebecca worked her thumbs down Alice’s neck, starting at the base of her skull. “You are strong and beautiful and fearless. I’ve always admired that about you, and you have always enjoyed feeling that way.”
Rebecca finished rubbing out a particularly tenacious knot in Alice’s neck while she slowed the activity in Alice’s brain, dampening transmission to the cerebellum and cooling the raging furnace of her amygdala.
“The white light removes the negative and the trivial, and only you are left.” Rebecca rubbed Alice’s temples with her fingertips, shutting down thought processes associated with stress and shame. “See yourself for what you are and be content with what you see. The light does not imbue strength or calm, it simply reminds you of the strength and calm that you have always possessed.”
Alice sighed softly, her body slack and pliable in Rebecca’s hands. If she had not supported her, Alice would have fallen over.
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 81