“More than fair,” she agreed. “Which is the problem.”
Henry glanced at his wife, who could only shake her head in reply.
They were outside the tolerances of Sofia’s prescience, in unknown territory.
Henry hated that more than anything, but there was nothing for it but to press on and hope they returned to anticipated outcomes.
“I am no longer interested in childish concepts such as ‘fair’ and ‘equitable’, Lord North, and I am certainly not inclined toward compromise,” Anastasia said, sounding as if she were bored by the entire encounter. “I find myself far more interested in honor, and justice.”
Henry felt a surge of panic, while his wife went entirely pale and silent beside him.
“I am sorry to say that I did not come to hear out your request. I was simply being polite.” Anastasia brushed an invisible speck of dust from her dress. “I have come to inform you personally that the Black Sun has decided not to accept the apology proffered by the Hegemony for the assault on my family. I do not believe that the Thule Cartel has been completely extinguished, and I accuse your cartel, and the rest of the Hegemony, of concealing and harboring the survivors. Accordingly, the Black Sun intends to hold the entirety of the Hegemony responsible for the attack in Harbin.”
“That is absurd!” Sofia looked positively ill. “We just fought a war against the Thule Cartel alongside your forces!”
“My wife is right,” Henry said. “You must know that the Thule Cartel was fully responsible for that reprehensible bombing. An Inquiry has been conducted, and we were exonerated. Gaul Thule victimized us all, Lady Martynova, and I believe his intention was to plunge us into a conflict that would eventually destroy the entire cartel system. Lord Thule is dead, and his family with him. There is no need for us to play into his hands, Lady Martynova.”
“I intend to oppose you nonetheless,” Anastasia said. “My honor demands it.”
“What more can your honor require?” Sofia shook as she spoke, no doubt recalling the grisly details of Josef and Pavel Martynova’s funerals. “You filled an entire grave with heads! How much more death will it take to satisfy you?”
“Not so much more,” Anastasia said, extending her hand to Renton so he could help her to stand. “A few families need to be pruned, and then Central can enjoy the peace you spoke of earlier.”
“You are young, but I have never known you to be foolish,” Henry said. “I implore you to reconsider this course of action, which can only lead to further misery and suffering for all of us.”
Anastasia smiled for just a moment, and her maid and bodyguard hurried to her side, the rapid movement making his household guard nervous.
“You may offer your surrender, if you wish,” Anastasia said. “You and your children will be exiled from Central and stripped of all offices and holdings, but I will guarantee your lives.”
“You have become an angry and bitter girl,” Sofia said, “and you shame your father’s memory with your conduct. You bring shame on your entire family!”
“My great-grandmother was a prostitute. My grandfather was a tong leader who extorted merchants,” Anastasia said. “My father was a murderer and a tyrant. The Martynova name is well beyond shame.”
“I will take this before the Assembly,” Henry said. “You have no cause.”
“I do not need a cause,” Anastasia said. “I have a voting majority in the Assembly. I take it that you do not plan to surrender?”
“Not at all,” Henry said, suddenly very angry. “What an absurd suggestion! We are more than capable of opposing the Black Sun, should you be so foolish as to provoke us.”
“Then you will live to see your children’s funerals, but not much longer,” Anastasia said, turning on her heel and making for the exit, her servants hurrying after her. “A bold prediction, I know, but I’m certain that your wife will confirm it for you.”
***
Eerie stopped by the kennel attached to the Science Building to play with the dogs. The researchers were used to her at this point, and they just waved her into the secured labs with an offhand greeting.
The Changeling had visited once or twice a week, since Hayley’s dogs had been moved back to the Academy from the Far Shores, and not just because it was fun. She felt obligated to stop by, though the dogs were well-cared for, and destined to be parceled out to families, once the reconstruction in Central was further along.
She worried that the dogs would miss Hayley.
They always seemed happy to see her, but she was not sure if the dogs remembered Hayley or not, or if that even mattered.
***
Renton drove several blocks before he snuck a glance at the rearview mirror.
Anastasia sat alone in the backseat, her eyes closed, and her face contorted into a gruesome snarl, as if she were in the most terrible pain imaginable.
The expression disappeared, and then one of her eyes cracked open.
“Do pay attention to the road, Renton.”
He was halfway across Central when he decided to risk it. He rarely had a chance to speak to her outside of Mai’s presence, after all, and if he didn’t take this opportunity, it could be days before he got another.
“Are you sure about this, Ana?”
“Be specific, Renton. Which of my actions are you questioning?”
“That whole thing with North back there,” Renton said, slowing for traffic in the recovering suburbs. “Are you sure that you want to go to war with the Hegemony?”
She gave him a very peculiar look, and he was certain that she was about to explode in anger. Then she chuckled, and he was left with a feeling of disquiet, bothered by the notion that there was something not entirely right with her eyes.
“Do you think I am incapable of it?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you intend to oppose me or to argue?”
“No.” He felt mildly sick to his stomach. “I’m with you no matter what.”
“As long as you are beside me, I have nothing to worry over,” Anastasia said, closing her eyes again. “Whatever happens from here, know that you will be at my side until the very end. Take heart, my troublesome and beloved servant. You never know, something good might happen along the way.”
He navigated the next few blocks in silence. When he glanced at the mirror, Anastasia was biting her lip, her face white with some secret pain or anxiety that he could not diagnose or alleviate, but that seemed to haunt her with regularity, since the funerals.
“You don’t seem at ease,” Renton said. “Do you still want to go tonight?”
“I am obliged to attend.”
“You’re the Mistress of the Black Sun,” Renton countered. “Fuck obligation.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, if not the language.”
He smiled but kept his eyes on the road.
“There will be dancing tonight,” Renton said, risking another glance at the mirror. “Have you picked out any partners?”
Anastasia did not even crack her eyes to glare at him.
“I have not.”
“Not even Daniel Gao?”
“I am not amused by your jealousy,” Anastasia said. “You had your chance.”
Renton pushed against the steering wheel until his shoulders ached in their sockets.
“Prepare your heart,” Anastasia ordered. “I cannot spare you the sight, nor consider your feelings on the matter. Unless you no longer wish to remain beside me?”
Renton shook his head.
“It’s like you said. You and I together, Ana. Until the end.”
“Don’t be sad, Renton. The end may come sooner than you expect.”
***
Eerie saw Rebecca coming from across the quad and fought down a perverse desire to run the other way.
Then Rebecca grabbed her and swept Eerie into a tight embrace.
The Changeling did not notice that Rebecca was crying until she felt tears on the back of her neck.
It took only s
lightly longer for Eerie to realize that she was also weeping.
“I’ve missed you, kiddo.”
Eerie nodded, unable to get a word past the tightness in her throat.
“Are things okay at the Far Shores? Is everyone being nice to you? Are you being good?” Rebecca fidgeted, unsure of what to do with her hands without a cigarette. “I worry, you know!”
“Everything is fine.”
“Oh. Good. That’s…that’s good.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because Central is scary,” Eerie replied promptly, “and your job is very scary.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Rebecca said, ruffling Eerie’s hair. “What happened to your hair? You decide to go darker or something?”
“Yes,” Eerie said, touching her hair self-consciously. “I did.”
She had last dyed her hair the week before the Church of Sleep manifested, but Eerie suspected that her hair was just a tiny bit bluer every morning since Alex had sent the Church into the Ether. Since she did not herself understand why her blonde hair had turned a natural cobalt, she had no intention of discussing it with Rebecca.
Eerie yawned, covering her mouth sheepishly.
“You seem tired,” Rebecca said. “I hear you are sleeping a lot.”
“Who told you that?”
“I’ve got friends at the Far Shores. I hear stuff. I keep tabs on you.”
“Oh.”
“So?”
“I’ve been a little sleepy, I guess.” Eerie shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I see,” Rebecca said. “Nothing to do with Alex, then? You’re not, say, helping him out with his sleep deficit at all?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Eerie said. “About helping. He’s asleep. I can’t, uh, can’t sleep for him.”
Eerie looked down, her cheeks burning.
“Because…?”
“Because I can’t do impossible things,” Eerie mumbled. “Not anymore.”
“Yeah, no more of that, because your protocol is gone. Since you helped with the Church, it just went away. I mean, everyone knows that Changelings age out of their powers.”
“Yes,” Eerie nodded. “They said that in class.”
“Because it’s true,” Rebecca said, touching her shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
“It was a stage. I grew out of it.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling everyone. It’s for the best that you remind everyone of that, too, every chance you get. Bad people will come after you, if they think otherwise,” Rebecca said. “You’re too valuable to ignore, unless...”
“Unless I can’t do anything special anymore,” Eerie said. “Which I obviously can’t.”
“That’s good. You know, I was just telling Michael the other day that I wished the kids at the Academy would get a little more sleep.” Rebecca looked Eerie in the eyes. “I wouldn’t care if they all went to bed early.”
“All of them?”
“All of them,” Rebecca confirmed. “As long as they get up in time for class.”
“Students need their rest,” Eerie said slowly. “Thank you.”
“I particularly wouldn’t mind if that meant that Alex woke up a little sooner, because the burden was distributed a bit,” Rebecca added. “Not like that’s possible, but, you know, just as a passing thought.”
Eerie hugged Rebecca fiercely.
“You were always my favorite, you know,” Rebecca said. “Still are.”
“You are mine,” Eerie said. “Except for Alex. The very best grownup.”
Rebecca laughed.
“That’s good to hear. Maybe I did something right.”
“You did. You were good to me.”
“I like everyone, mostly,” Rebecca said. “I can’t help it. But I really…I love you, kid. I want you to be happy. Are you happy? I want you to be.”
Eerie nodded.
Rebecca smiled as she let her go.
“How is he, anyway? I miss him, too.”
“You know,” Eerie said. “The same as always.”
***
For a fictional existence, Mauricio Lopez lived a pleasant life.
He owned a small villa on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta in an expat retirement community, complete with a pool and a decent golf course. It was walking distance to the beach, and both local restaurants were quite good.
He putted on the green or played a few holes with the house pro most mornings, and he had made substantial progress with his handicap. After lunch he walked on the beach, only turning around when he got to the areas favored by the crowds of seasonal tourists.
In the late afternoon he napped or swam, and he dined out for dinner.
It was from this last activity that he was currently returning, having elected to eat at a restaurant a bit further than he normally would have ventured, tempted by the reputation of their seafood. The reputation had proved to be merited, but the walk home in the dimness of the late evening was longer than he would have liked, and he had started to regret not summoning a taxi.
He was walking along the cinderblock fence that surrounded a new housing tract, most of the homes on the other side still under construction, when he noticed the bored young man lounging at the corner on the opposite side of the street.
A Caucasian was hardly an out-of-the-ordinary sight in the neighborhood, even if the dark suit he wore was a departure from the usual tourist and retiree ensemble, but Mauricio flinched when he saw him.
Then Mauricio disappeared.
The young man yawned, stretched, and then sauntered over with a grin on his face.
“It’s no use, Mateo,” Renton said. “I can feel your Signature. You can’t hide in that ridiculous fake identity any longer.”
The street burst into flames around Renton, the buildings transformed into towering infernos that spewed orange fire out of every window. The heat was withering in its intensity, and the sidewalk was bombarded with broken glass and debris.
Renton smirked.
“Give it up. You aren’t fooling anyone.”
“I don’t want to fool anyone, I want to be left alone,” Mateo Navarre said, his voice coming from nowhere in particular. “I like being Mauricio.”
“You’ve done what you’ve done. You knew there would be a price to pay.”
The flames disappeared.
Mateo reappeared in multiples of ten, or even one hundred – dozens of identical men, wearing the same loose white shirt and faded jeans that Mateo wore, each with the same wavy brown hair, kept under control with a liberal application of Pomade – scattered about the street, running this way and that, hiding behind cars or slipping into buildings.
Renton glanced at his watch.
“There’s nowhere to run, Mateo. Fight it all you want – you’re no more than a fish on the line.”
Mateo used his duplicates to conceal his retreat, meaning to head back in the direction of the restaurant, duck into a convenient café, and then hide in the bathroom until a ride to the airport could be arranged.
Renton strode briskly down the block after him, ignoring Mateo’s clones.
Mateo broke into a run.
He abandoned it four blocks later, winded and unable to put any distance between himself and Renton. He bent over to catch his breath, and while his chest was still heaving, he felt an Isolation Field slam down around him, and the strange sensation of pressure that accompanied it.
Mateo straightened up and looked around.
Renton was standing not far from him, having not even broken a sweat.
“It was never personal,” Mateo said. “I was just doing a job.”
“You took the wrong job.”
“I can be helpful,” Mateo said. “I know all sorts of things your Mistress will want to hear.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course! I was right there for all of it. I may have only been from an affiliated family, but they let me sit i
n on their meetings, the Thule inner circle. I know all the things Lady Martynova is dying to find out.”
“That’s very good to hear.”
“I’ll tell you everything, I swear it,” Mateo said, stepping close to Renton. “You just have to promise me one thing.”
Renton raised his eyebrow.
“You have to promise me that, if I tell you everything, you won’t torture or kill me. Exile me, or make me work for you, whatever you want, but I want to live. And you’ve got to keep me away from your precious Mistress, okay? I’ll talk to you directly, or to one of your people, but I don’t want to talk to her.”
“Why is that?”
“I saw what she did, when you people attacked the Thule manor. I saw her kill Gaul Thule! That wasn’t any kind of protocol. There’s something wrong with her. I don’t need any Outer Dark shit in my life, okay? Just promise me that, and I’ll give it all up.”
“I don’t know, Mateo,” Renton said. “That’s two things, not one. Still, there’s no harm in asking, is there? Let’s ask her, then.”
Renton grinned at him, and Mateo’s stomach turned over.
“What do you think, Ana? Will you leave poor Mateo alone?”
He could not say where she came from, though she appeared in full view and in the glare of an adjacent porch lamp, without the benefit of shadows or tricks of light. He did not even see her move.
Anastasia Martynova stood beside Renton in a metallic blue dress and black shawl, her eyes as black and empty as those of a tiger shark. The hem of her dress danced about, teased by a wind that Mateo did not feel.
“I hate to say it, Mr. Navarre,” Anastasia said. “But I have no intention of indulging you.”
“Lady Martynova,” Mateo said, dropping to his knees, and then resting his forehead on the ground. “I beg your forgiveness. I was a fool for joining the Thule Cartel, and a fool for participating in the attack on your family. Spare me, and I pledge myself to your service for the rest of my life.”
Renton offered Anastasia his arm, and then led her over to inspect Mateo.
“This is a surprise,” Anastasia said. “I expected you to put up a fight.”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 92