***
“This is a waste of time,” Anastasia observed, suspended above the ravening abyss. “You are wasting my time, and I will not have it.”
There was a surge of movement in the blackness of the chasm beneath her, a wild profusion of limbs and violent activity as it rose. At first, she thought that it cried out as it came, the sound reverberating within each cell of her body, but then she realized that she was wrong.
The sound came from the sky around her. It was screaming as it disintegrated.
“My name is Anastasia Martynova,” Anastasia said, her words lost in the chaos of the boiling atmosphere. “And I will not tolerate…”
A great black spike tore out of the abyss, punching into her chest and emerging from the top of her head, impaling her.
The corded bulk of the darkness followed, climbing the spike in a frantic blur of activity, like a sperm whale erupting beneath a rowboat, to swallow her body whole. Anastasia disappeared in the geyser of animated darkness.
Cables of pitch black twisted and tore, winding tight around her in a dense mass, twisted and snarled like a rat king’s tail. Every appendage tapered into a reflective talon, a sharpened growth of black chrome, and serrated ridges ran along the sinuous lengths of the writhing shadow.
Impaled and drowning in black, Anastasia floated calmly.
“You cannot harm me,” she observed. “This is futile.”
Psychic energy surged through the darkness that coiled around her, a telepathic assault that erupted from somewhere deep in the abyss. Waves of degradation and agony were directed against her, a massive crushing force of torment and violation, bent on reducing her to ash and rubble.
Anastasia covered her mouth to conceal a yawn.
“No matter what you try, your attacks will simply pass through me,” Anastasia explained, sounding bored. “As for myself, however…”
She extended her hand into the darkness, her white fingers disappearing into the gloom.
The darkness itself seemed to cry out in the cacophony of a thousand startled gulls, and blades and tentacles erupted from the abyss below. Anastasia waited patiently as she was run through and slashed, the flailing limbs not even managing to muss her hair.
“There is no point in throwing a fit,” Anastasia scolded. “Nothing will change.”
She drifted gently down into the abyss like dry leaf caught in the wind, passing effortlessly through the appendages that tried to wind about her or puncture her.
The murk resolved to show her atrocities. She was assailed by visions of massacres and violations, monstrous things that lived sideways of reality, moving ponderously in the unbroken night of the Outer Dark, the cosmic death of galaxies.
When that failed to shake her, Mr. Crane offered her a view of the White Room instead, the reflection of light off the walls so harsh that her eyes stung. She shut her eyes to protect them, but she made no other concession to the horrors that were forced into her mind.
Anastasia only opened her eyes again when she felt herself to be at the heart of the thing, when she felt her feet settle on something solid enough to bear her scant weight. The darkness was absolute about her, deep in the abyss, and she could see and feel nothing, save the ground beneath her, and a cold breeze that came from no certain direction.
Anastasia strode forward, and the darkness about her withered as she advanced.
Mr. Crane screamed with a thousand inorganic voices.
The blackness about her shattered, and behind it there was only absence, the perfect void of an empty telepathic simulation. Anastasia gathered the fragments of the dark in her thin fingers, and then she squeezed.
“What is your name, monster?”
“I am a Representative of the Church of Sleep,” the darkness hissed, lashing and struggling against her. “You may call me Mr. Crane.”
Anastasia clenched her hands until the dark was solid and heavy in her palms, throbbing like a heart in the ichor. She drove her thumb into this heart and listened to the resulting screams with satisfaction.
“Very well, Mr. Crane. Now that we understand each other,” Anastasia said, “shall we discuss the terms of your immediate and total surrender?”
***
Alex turned the first corner that he found, and then stood there, gawking and dumbfounded, until Samnang pulled him back into the hallway.
“You idiot,” Samnang hissed. “Do you want to distract Ériu?”
“Distract her from what?” Alex asked, peering around the corner. “What the hell is going on?”
“She is making her argument,” Samnang said, “in the form of a dance.”
Alex wanted to argue, but the Yaojing put a finger to her lips when he opened his mouth, so instead he watched in bewilderment as Eerie danced.
Something nagged at him, but he needed a few minutes to remember, and then a few more to be sure.
The dance was the very same as the one he watched their first night together, at a rave in San Francisco, movement for movement, beat for beat.
It was the secret she had told him in a crowded room.
Eerie’s thesis, written in broad characters, so that even he could understand.
And yet he still hadn’t, not until that very moment.
“Does she know that I’m watching?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Samnang said. “Not everything is about you.”
***
Anastasia opened her eyes; the black of her pupils slowly leaked out like an oil spill on the open sea, darkening the sclera of her eyes.
“I have a question for you, Mr. Crane,” she said, sitting up slowly on the couch.
Your victory is temporary, a voice assured her. Your will is finite, and my patience is not. I will consume you from the inside. I will hollow you out, and you will go to the White Room of your own volition.
“I have no intention of allowing any such thing to happen,” Anastasia said. “Are there more like you, Mr. Crane?”
There are more, Mr. Crane replied. Mrs. Gimble, and the flawed Representative, Parson. Given the grave state of affairs, one or the other has no doubt already been selected for promotion to Senior Representative.
“Not just more, then, but one of them is your superior? That won’t do at all, Mr. Crane,” Anastasia said, getting to her feet and checking her hair in a convenient mirror. She smiled at her reflection, her eyes momentarily turning as black as squid ink. “I will permit no rivals. Take me to it.”
***
Egill appeared at the appointed place and time – a copse of eucalyptus trees on a small ranch outside of the tiny Basque town of Sukarrieta – and immediately collapsed onto the ground, horribly broken.
Greta Dale ran from her children to his side, Benjamin Thule hurrying after her.
“Help,” Egill croaked, feebly gesturing toward the oozing cavities in his chest and abdomen. “I need…”
“Oh dear!” Gabby sank to her knees beside him. “My poor, poor cousin. What has been done to you?”
Alistair crouched on his opposite side, hovering his hand above Egill’s forehead.
“Katya Zharova and a bunch of explosives happened,” Alistair said cheerfully. “Your cousin got blown up by a Black Sun assassin.”
Egill shuddered and moaned, blood pumping out of a dozen wounds each time that his heart beat.
“He needs a hospital,” Greta said quietly, looking at Gabby. “He won’t make it without…”
“He won’t make it either way,” Alistair said. “I’m amazed he even managed to apport out of there.”
“Dear cousin,” Gabby said, clenching his bloody hand. “Please rest assured that I will see that you are revenged. I will personally eliminate the assassin who…”
“No need,” Alistair cut in. “It was a suicide attack. Katya’s dead already.” He frowned. “I would have liked to do that myself. Too bad.”
“Oh.” Gabby frowned. “Well, then, cousin Egill, please take solace in knowing that the Thule Cartel will persist, thanks to y
our great sacrifice. I’ve taken control of the Cartel and the family, and I promise you that I will shepherd it into recovery, and a new age of glory and…well, it will be great. I swear.”
Egill stared at her in horror.
“What?” Gabby giggled. “Who else did you…? Oh! You thought I was dead, didn’t you? Well, I’m not. I’m just fine, thanks for worrying.”
“Will he die?” Benjamin asked, giving Gabby a worried look. “Can’t we do anything?”
“Nothing we can do, kid,” Alistair said, patting him roughly on the head. “Greta, do me a favor and get the boy out of here, okay? He doesn’t need to watch this.”
Greta hesitated, taking a long look at Egill as he gestured weakly. Then she nodded, stood, and collected Benjamin, who stumbled as he was led off to where the remnant of the Thule Cartel waited.
“He wants to know why I’m here,” Alistair said, grinning at Gabby. “You wanna tell him the good news, or…?”
“I’m engaged, cousin Egill,” Gabby said. “Well, I suppose I’ve been engaged for some time now, but this is a new engagement. I don’t have a ring just yet,” she said, wiggling her fingers, “but Alistair has promised that it will be spectacular.”
“All the diamonds in Luxembourg,” Alistair said. “Or wherever they have diamonds.”
“He will take his place beside me, as Lord and Lady Thule,” Gabby said. “Just as soon as he finishes making good on various promises he has made.”
Alistair smiled and reached for Gabby’s hand. She pushed his aside, and Alistair laughed.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” Alistair nudged the dying man’s shoulder. “What a girl.”
Egill mustered his strength and managed a hoarse whisper.
“You must hide,” he said, gasping. “You need…”
“Hush,” Gabby said, putting her hand over his mouth. “No one tells me what to do, cousin. Not anymore.”
Egill curled slowly into a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around his punctured chest. The shrapnel in his solar plexus sent pulses of agony through him, and his perforated lungs gurgled and bubbled with each tortured breath.
“The Thule Cartel is in good hands,” Gabby said. “Die in peace, cousin.”
***
Eerie finished her dance, panting just slightly. Representative Parson stared at her with a multitude of bewildered eyes, each refracting a slightly different perspective of the Changeling.
“I do not understand.”
“That’s okay, you know,” Eerie assured him. “I didn’t get it at all myself until just recently.”
“You seem to believe there are alternatives to the White Room,” Parson said, his voice full of confusion. “That is not the case. You must know.”
“You can’t just write off possibilities because they are really, really unlikely. That’s no better than wishful thinking.”
“Explain yourself, Changeling.”
“That’s what I just did,” Eerie said. “I explained myself. Words fall short. I had to show you.”
“You are at the door to the White Room, where your sisters fade and suffer. The oldest of your kind are less than shadows, hardly even stains on the floor. You are young and vital, and therefore you are required.”
“It’s nice to be needed, sometimes. Not by you, though, and not like that.”
“We have arrived at the conclusion.” John gestured with his scarecrow arm, and there was a door behind him, anonymous and white-painted, the light seeping out from around the edges brutal to look upon. “You end in the White Room, where there are no endings.”
“You never know until it happens,” Eerie said, activating the Kismet Protocol. “I don’t want to fight with anyone, you least of all. We are so alike, and I don’t think that’s right for us.”
“There is no such thing as ‘right’.”
“I think you’re discounting some really neat possibilities,” Eerie said, a little music creeping into her voice as her protocol flowed out into the world, into the Ether. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if we became friends? Really great friends?”
“This is nonsense,” Representative Parson said slowly. “You are trying to confuse me.”
“Not just friends, even,” Eerie said, lowering her voice. “You see, I’m the president of this super cool club…”
***
Rebecca and Alice arrived to find the Representative beside the gleaming impossibility of the Church, staring at them from narrow eye sockets filled with ten thousand indifferent black eyes.
“I don’t want to bother you or anything,” Rebecca said, taking a step toward the Representative. “But it’s time for you to go back to wherever you came from. This is a school, and we have very strict policies for visitors.”
“Not yet/now.” A rivulet of something black leaked from the corner of Mrs. Gimble’s mouth. “This is not the primary arena, and nothing will be decided here. The heart of the affair will be decided within the Church of Sleep itself, Auditor. Shall I offer you accommodation in the White Room?”
“I’ll make my own fun,” Rebecca said. “I’m good at that.”
“Just the two of you?” The Representative creaked like a house settling as it rose on its haunches, its legs bending the wrong direction, like a grasshopper. “That seems a bit unfair/ridiculous.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Rebecca agreed. “Let’s fix that.”
Chike, deploy.
The broken courtyard was suddenly crowded.
Hayley and Min-jun and Xia stood beside Chike, weapons to ready, looking to Rebecca for direction. Michael Lacroix was next to them, his tattoos shining a livid shade of violet, Gerald Windsor watching sorrowfully from behind his shoulder.
Taking his place at the front of the group, Lord Henry North activated the metal handle in his right hand, the furious coils of his Salamander Protocol spilling out before him and disintegrating whatever they touched.
“A distraction?” Mrs. Gimble’s ten thousand awful eyes sparkled. “Why not?”
***
“There’s one more thing. Don’t worry! It’ll look great on you,” Eerie assured Representative Parson. “I made it myself!”
Eerie rummaged in her bag for a moment, then proudly displayed a knit cap, done in brilliant red and banana yellow, for him to inspect.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a hat,” Eerie said. “You don’t understand hats. You just wear them.”
“It is not the function of the hat that I do not understand, it is your intention. What is the hat for?”
“The hat is for you, silly,” Eerie said, glancing around the candy glass cathedral. “Who else is there?”
“What am I meant to do with it?”
“You wear it,” Eerie said, taking a step toward the Representative, holding the hat out before her reverently, as if she meant to crown him with it. “You wear hats.”
“Why would I…?”
“Just try it,” Eerie suggested, cornering him. “It will look super cool on you! Trust me.”
Representative Parson trembled helplessly as the Changeling advanced with the garish stocking cap, diminishing as Eerie approached, shrinking to the point that the Changeling only had to go up on her tiptoes to put the hat on his misshapen head.
It fit perfectly.
Eerie stepped back and cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.
She stared for a short while, then she grinned and clapped her hands.
“It’s perfect,” she said. “Don’t you love it?”
“I do not understand,” Parson said, touching the hat gently, as if he were afraid that it might burn his skeletal fingers, “I am confused. This is not like my earlier folly. There are new places inside of me. Unapproved options.”
“Yes. It’s fun, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. This is all a bit much.”
“Don’t worry,” Eerie said. “You get used to it.”
“I think that I need to lie down,” Parson said. “Why is that?”
/>
“You can do whatever you want. That’s enough to make anyone dizzy, I think. Will you please let me and Alex be?”
“I – I do not know. I am very tired. I must consider this.” Representative Parson hesitated, and then turned in a direction that was not previously apparent. “I shall lie down and rest and give the matter some consideration.”
“Really?” Eerie looked astonished. “Great!”
Representative Parson shambled to a corner of the cornerless room, moving with the approximate grace of a drunk on the second night of a three-day bender. Eerie watched with delight, waving at his malformed back.
“Eerie!” Alex ran up beside her, wild-eyed and out of breath. “What – what happened? What did you do?”
“I explained everything,” Eerie said, taking his hand. “I think it will be okay.”
“You…explained?” Alex glanced over at the retreating Representative. “What does that mean?”
“I made him understand,” Eerie said. “How did you get here?”
“Samnang led me,” Alex said, gesturing at the space beside him, only to find it vacant. “She was right here! I don’t know what happened. Just a minute ago she was…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Eerie said. “She’s worried that I’m still mad at her, and she probably wanted to give us a little space. She’s a very considerate sister, really.”
“Since when?”
“Alex! She helped you find me!”
“That’s nice and all, but that whole torture thing is still…”
“I know. That was mean. She meant well, though.”
“Right. I get it. What she did, it might even have saved me, back there with Alistair, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to appreciate it.”
“It would be nice if you got along with my sister. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“I’ll try. No promises, but…”
“That’s good enough for now,” Eerie said, hugging him. “Can we leave, please? This place is creepy. We should run.”
“Run? I mean, can we? Is this done?”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 84