Rose
My mind wandered in dozens of different directions.
The general silence of the jungle and the darkness of night had a soothing effect, though, giving me the calmness I needed to follow each thread of reasoning that tugged at my consciousness. If it weren’t for Ben, I may have had more trouble holding on to my sanity.
My heart ached as I thought about Caleb, the kids, and everyone else who had stayed behind in The Shade and on Calliope. I had a pretty good idea as to how they were feeling—the rage and the grief, the helplessness and despair were all too common in such circumstances. I missed my husband. My soulmate. The one thing that kept me going was the thought that I’d see him again. That we’d get back to our usual lives, and that we’d take some time for ourselves. Maybe a vacation somewhere.
Nowhere new and exotic, though. Strava’s been a hard lesson. Let’s stick with Peru or Mexico or something.
Ben was just as ruffled. He barely mentioned River’s name, but I could tell from the look on his face that he missed her, terribly. It had only been a few days, but this wasn’t the longing caused by the passage of time. It was mostly the fear that we’d never see our loved ones again that made us miss them.
“You know, I noticed a couple of patterns in our earlier Perfect encounter,” Ben said as we walked through the thick jungle. “They’re definitely learning some new techniques.”
“I know,” I replied. “They already had the speed and strength down, but they lacked the structure. They didn’t quite know what to do with their abilities in the beginning. Their movements were scary fast, but raw. They’ve changed, if I’m not mistaken. They’re more calculated, relying less on the insane speed at all times, and bringing in more of the strength.”
“They’re developing attack strategies, isolating their opponents,” Ben concluded. “Once one of us is left on their own, the Perfects gang up on them until they take them down. Then, they spread out again and pick the rest of us off, one by one.”
“They go for the weaker elements first, too,” I said. “That is, weaker than they are. They left Elonora and me, for example, and focused on Ridan and the others. And you,” I added with a sigh.
Ben smiled. “That’s because they’re somewhat afraid of you and of what happens when you drink their blood. They haven’t figured out a way to stop that, yet. And I think that’s really important, Sis. I don’t care if they kick my ass six ways from Sunday, over and over. What matters is that they don’t rush into attacking you or Elonora.”
I nodded slowly. “There was something different this time,” I muttered. “Amane did the right thing by pissing Abaddon off. Had he not been so enraged and unhinged, the other Perfects would’ve been more focused on capturing us. Because they were partially distracted, we were able to take more of them down. But Abaddon was terrifying, Ben. I never want to deal with someone like him, ever again.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have that option yet. Unless we figure out a way to kill the Perfects. Permanently,” Ben replied, staring at the greenery unraveling before us.
Giant trees twisted upward, their branches spiraling toward the sky. The crowns were rich and green, each leaf wearing a waxy shimmer. Red-and-yellow fruit hung from the tip of every branch, coming down in succulent clusters. They looked delicious, and I would’ve loved to be a human again, if only just for a minute or two, so I could enjoy the exotic tastes of this place.
Bluish moonlight cut through the darkness around us, bringing out the silhouette of the occasional solitary rock or fern shrub. Sometimes, it unmasked one of our quiet followers—small and medium-sized deer with hides the color of sand and long, arched antlers, black felines, and black-and-white monkeys with big blue eyes. They were just curious, watching us, the strangers, as we made our way through their world. Little did they know that we were just as scared as they were, only it wasn’t them we feared.
No, we were fearful of the Perfects, the creatures that had suddenly come to life and staked their claim to this planet and the rest of this universe, as if it was all theirs for the taking.
“I find it hard to believe that Ta’Zan would create something like the Perfects without a lever he can pull, in case of emergency,” I said.
Amane sighed. “He’s got something, for sure. I’ve said this before,” she replied. “But we won’t know unless I get in there. I have a feeling Amal might have a clue. After all, she’s still working with him. Surely, she must have access.”
“Amane, you mentioned earlier that you had yet to try shredding a Perfect to little pieces,” I said. “Do you think that might yield more permanent results?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m inclined to think so. Even with a regenerative ability, there is only so much that a body can do to retain its physical integrity.”
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you, but, given all this running and fighting, I haven’t had a chance yet,” Ben said. “After you cut off a Perfect’s head and it grows back, how can their memories still exist? How come the Perfect already knows who he or she is, what they can do and so on?”
“Oh, that’s Ta’Zan’s doing,” Amane explained. “He devised a small mnemonic chip, which is implanted in the spine of each Perfect. It’s all linked to the nervous system, basically. The information gets copied and stored on the chip. It’s an automated process, so once the new head is fully developed, the chip connects to the brain and copies back all the lost information.”
“What the hell?” I croaked. “You didn’t think to tell us about this earlier?”
“We could’ve done something with that!” Ben replied, equally angered. “If the Perfects lose their memories and don’t know what they’re doing wherever we left them, it will keep them off our tracks for longer!”
Amane shook her head. “No, it won’t. I mean, it would buy you a day, tops. But all the data from their brains, including memories, thoughts, and experiences, is downloaded wirelessly into a server system back in Ta’Zan’s compound. Once the head is cut off and, say, the mnemonic chip is removed and destroyed, they still have the info backup in the compound. If it’s urgent, the data can be retransferred wirelessly back into the Perfect’s new head, using the neurons as connection points instead of a memory chip. It’s difficult and extremely painful, but it can be done. Alternatively, it could get stored on a new mnemonic chip, which will then be implanted into their spines. There’s no way around the Perfects on this one.”
“What if we block the wireless connection between the Perfect’s new brain and the backup in Ta’Zan’s compound?” I asked. “Can we do that?”
Amane thought about it for a while, frowning as she processed the idea. “I can try something, but I need a lot of serium crystals for that. At least ten pounds.”
“What for?” Ben replied.
“To compress them into a blocking device, which I can then insert into a Perfect’s ear. That would block the connection with Ta’Zan’s database,” Amane said, then glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve got a Perfect to try that on, already.”
Douma stilled, visibly shaken. “I will rip your face off,” she murmured, her blue eyes as cold as death. “I will, Amane. Don’t think I’m above that.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to do that.” Amane chuckled, then looked at me, while Dmitri continued to keep an eye on Douma as we resumed our walk. “When it comes to Perfects, there are three things to first consider. One, the memory chip in their spine. It’s biomaterial and almost impossible to spot, even with our scanners back in Ta’Zan’s compound. I can help you find Douma’s, especially since Elonora can literally see right through her.”
I nodded in agreement. “Okay, we can do that,” I replied. “What else?”
“Two, the wireless connection. That, I can also try to block with serium. Emphasis on try, because I haven’t had the chance to do this before, so I’m only going on theory here,” Amane said. “Third, the wireless connection. I know, it sounds like I’m repeating myself. I’m not. I’m poi
nting out an issue. How does the database find the right Perfect to send the backup information to?”
I blinked several times, until a possible answer came up, chilling me to the bone. “The Perfects are tracked?”
Of course, that would mean that Douma was being tracked, too. We would never get far with her in our group, then.
“Not exactly. It’s the consciousnesses. The souls, if you will,” Amane replied. “The database detects them. Each consciousness has its own individual print, which is automatically identified and registered into the database. The regenerated ones get numbers at the end. Like Araquiel, Araquiel2, Araquiel3 and so on.”
“Can the database track a Perfect’s location?” I asked, not sure I’d understood how it all worked.
Amane shook her head. “Not currently. That would require serious alterations to the database system, and we’re not that advanced yet. Think of the consciousnesses as being here and on a parallel plane, all at once. They’re connected to the database through that parallel plane. That’s how the information gets passed around, through an ethereal network of sorts. And the serium device can block that, too. It can separate a consciousness from the database altogether. So, if you’re looking to get yourself a brand new Perfect with a fresh mind to shape to your needs, this is how you do it. Remove the memory chip, cut off the head, and, as soon as the very first breath is taken, install the serium device. From there on, the Perfect is yours. So to speak.”
I was stunned. It sounded complicated as hell, and, given what we’d gone through already, it didn’t come as a surprise that Amane had not suggested it earlier. It didn’t seem easy, and we were pressed for time, constantly on the run.
“I recommend doing this to Douma once we find Raphael,” Amane said. “He may be able to help us stay put in one place long enough for us to find the mnemonic chip and enough serium crystals to work with. Right now, we’re moving targets. If Raphael agrees to help us, however, we can definitely try to wipe Douma clean.”
“This will be our chance to confirm what we’ve talked about until now… That the Perfects were, in fact, taught to be like this,” Dmitri replied from behind. I looked back at him and noticed the conflicted look on Douma’s face. She seemed horrified, but there was a gleam of curiosity lingering in her eyes, as if she was wondering whether that would be a better option for her, maybe. Or, at least, that was my impression.
“Even so, there are too many of them,” Ben groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “We can’t do that with millions of Perfects, obviously. We’re struggling to find time to try it with just one. There has to be another way. Something on a larger scale.”
“Persuasion?” Amane offered, making both Ben and I chuckle softly.
“No offense, Amane, but you know them better than we do. Do you really think we can persuade the likes of Araquiel, or worse, Abaddon, to turn against their maker? For Pete’s sake, we’ve had Douma for a day now, and she’s still looking forward to dragging our asses back to Ta’Zan, if given the chance.”
“I don’t know about Douma,” Amane murmured. “She didn’t exactly put up a serious fight when Dmitri moved to slap the cuffs on her again, after she killed Abaddon.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” Douma said, making Amane chuckle again.
“There’s still time for her to change her mind. I’m sure she would’ve tried other methods to free herself, if she really wanted to,” Amane said, then looked at Kallisto, who walked by my side, on the left. “I mean, seriously, how long did it take for you to turn against Ta’Zan, Kallisto?”
I thought about it for a minute, and it made sense.
“Once I truly realized that Ta’Zan wanted nothing to do with me, that he didn’t give a damn whether I lived or died, something clicked in me,” Kallisto replied. “If we can get the Perfects to understand, to see for themselves just how self-serving and untrustworthy their creator is, who knows? We might even stage a revolution.”
Ben let out a long and tired sigh. “Whatever it is, it has to work. Because our worst-case scenario right now is getting the white witches involved, and the entire Supernatural Dimension, and destroying everything. Planet included.”
Silence fell heavily over our group. It pulled my shoulders down, and I watched Amane’s expression shift. Concern turned into silent horror, as she most likely envisioned what the destruction of Strava would look like.
We were ready to do whatever it took to stop the Perfects from going out into the universe. It didn’t mean we wanted to. Other options were desperately needed. All of a sudden, I had two new objectives, on top of getting my parents and the rest of my friends and family back: wipe Douma clean to get her on our side and figure out an en-masse solution to shred thousands of Perfects at once in a way that would render their regenerative genes completely useless.
We had our work cut out for us, for sure.
Dmitri
I didn’t mind being the “babysitter” in our group. Being so close to Douma gave me more insight into what the hell was going on with me. I definitely liked her, and I had to get my feelings under control. She was the enemy. However, if Amane, Rose, and Elonora could wipe her clean, maybe Douma would become our ally and friend. Maybe then I won’t feel so guilty for liking her.
I held on to the chain connected to her handcuffs and patiently walked by her side. The ankle cuffs made it slightly more difficult for her to walk, but that was fine. I didn’t feel like running around after her—not after the monstrous fight we’d just survived. This was the only sort of downtime I was going to get on this planet, clearly.
Whenever I looked at Douma, I found her watching me. That confused me even more, and, at the same time, it made my heart jump around like a maniac. Damn my body!
Amane had made an excellent point, though. Douma would’ve put up more of a fight earlier. After all, most of our crew had been down at the time. She could’ve just dashed out of there—she couldn’t fly, but she could still run. Heck, the only reason I’d let her loose in the first place was that she was faster than Abaddon. She could’ve just darted away. One of her Perfects could’ve removed the devices mounted on her back and neck afterward.
So, what was Douma’s endgame? Was she really coming around? Or was she just staying close and making sure we went straight to the gallows—that is, Ta’Zan’s compound? Looking at her, I couldn’t really tell. But I could always have a quick chat with Elonora, somewhere more private.
I glanced around and noticed Elonora had moved back by Nevis’s side, both of them walking quietly behind Douma and me. Nevis was persistently eyeing me. That might explain the chills I’ve been getting.
“Hey, Nevis, want to trade places for a while?” I asked him. “I could use a break from Douma.”
“Why? Am I talking too much?” Douma muttered, bitterly amused.
“It’s the fact that you’re not talking at all,” I said with a smirk. “The silence is exhausting,” I added, then glanced back at Nevis and Elonora. “Besides, Lenny and I need to have a chat.”
Nevis narrowed his eyes at me, then took a deep breath and looked at Leah, who was walking on our right. “Leah, would you be so kind as to take Dmitri’s place for a while?”
“Sure. I’ll keep an eye on her,” Leah replied with a shrug.
The change and shuffle happened so swiftly, I didn’t even realize what was going on until I found myself walking by Nevis’s side, with Elonora, Douma, and Leah more than ten feet away.
“Wait, what just happened?” I managed, before Hunter accidentally bumped into me. Nevis gripped my wrist and held me back.
“Sorry, buddy,” Hunter said, then kept moving, with Kailani by his side.
All of a sudden, I was at the back of the group, with more than twenty feet of distance between us, and Nevis right next to me. Needless to say, I was a tad confused. Nevis, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
“I need to talk to you,” he declared solemnly.
I couldn’t he
lp but raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s what that confusing shift was all about? How did you even get me back here?”
He smiled. “I took advantage of your soft spot for the Perfect. It makes you more… malleable,” he retorted.
My face caught fire, and I looked away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s written all over your mug,” Nevis said. “Just make sure it doesn’t put the rest of us in any danger. The team and the mission come first.”
Holy crap, was I really that transparent? I’d thought I’d learned to wear a decent poker face! I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, then scowled at Nevis.
“I would never do anything to jeopardize the crew or the mission,” I replied, gritting my teeth. “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just keeping an eye on Douma. It’s my duty. That’s all.”
“Okay, keep telling yourself that, if it helps,” Nevis said, stifling a smirk. “I’ve been around long enough to recognize the soft eyes and the awkward stolen glances, but, anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh. So, the embarrassment was not on the menu, huh?” I groaned, rolling my eyes.
“I consider it a bonus. You’re an easy target,” Nevis said.
Sometimes I wondered if he was this blunt on purpose, or if it was just his nature to be such a frosty bull in a china shop. Because it took an incredible amount of skill to make words cut so deeply. It took a lot to get me riled up, but Nevis seemed to have no trouble when it came to eliciting reactions from me. Looking back on the previous times we’d met, I had a similar picture of Nevis in mind: cold and sarcastic, painfully blunt and unafraid, the latter mostly because of his royal heritage.
But out here, we were equals. He didn’t fuss about me not addressing him as “Your Grace,” for example. We fought side by side, and we watched each other’s backs. We broke bread together. But there was still a part of him that simply couldn’t resist the temptation—and, in his words, I was an easy target. In all fairness, he’d definitely spotted the truth here. After all, I did have the hots for Douma, as troubling as that was.
A Shade of Vampire 63: A Jungle of Rogues Page 19