Low City: Missing Persons (A Tractus Fynn Mystery Book 3)

by Alexander, MK

  “Why?”

  “They were soiled.”

  “So are these… it looks like dried blood.”

  “Nonsense…” She smiled sweetly.

  “When are we?” I asked as my thoughts began to clear.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Sort of.”

  “I’d prefer not to say.”

  “Why?”

  “It may prejudice your actions.”

  “What actions?”

  “The ones you are about to take.”

  “That’s quite the enigmatic answer.”

  Chloe laughed.

  “It’s not nineteen sixty-four, is it?”

  “No. You’ve shattered Mortimer’s little deceit quite thoroughly.”

  “The island, you mean.”

  “Yes, geologically speaking it’s been there since the early Pliocene.”

  “I knew he was lying.”

  “You’re a clever man, Patrick. That’s why we chose you.”

  “Chose me?”

  “To help Fynn. Save him from his suffering, his torment.”

  “The prisoner in my dreams…” I said.

  “You’re catching on.”

  I looked at her, and then at my surroundings: it was a deep valley splattered with flickering sunlight as the leaves danced. I could also hear water splashing, trickling, and a few birds chattering among the trees. I finally asked, “Where’s your sister?”

  “Lilly is in me.”

  “In you?”

  “We share this life.”

  “How does that work?”

  “It’s quite a nuisance.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Perhaps it was a mishap?” Chloe sat upright and folded her hands into her lap. “A future self… who you call Lilly… soft jumped into me… but couldn’t take control fully.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I suppose because she is from a very distant future, and I am from a very distant past. We were incompatible in some sense. She entered me but I wouldn’t let her take hold completely.”

  “Why not?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t like her very much.”

  “But she’s you.”

  “Alright then, I didn’t like who we had become.”

  “At the temple?” I asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “Did this happen at the temple? On the Hudson by the Palisades Cliffs.”

  “It may have.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “Alright?” she repeated in disbelief. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

  “It can’t be easy, sharing a life, I mean.”

  “We battle often, though neither gets the upper hand. One sleeps while the other is awake, so to speak.”

  “What happens when you really sleep?”

  “I dream of course.”

  “And when you try to jump somewhere, travel?”

  “It’s rather odd, we both seem to take the journey.” She paused to laugh. “Sometimes Lilly takes me for a ride, sometimes I let her tag along.” A dark looked crossed Chloe’s face. “She means to leave me behind someday, I’m sure of it.”

  “It sounds difficult, not to mention complicated.”

  “One adjusts eventually, though you are right, it’s not always an easy life.”

  “So, is it like a soft jump gone wrong? Sharing one mind? One awareness?”

  “It’s more like sharing a body. Our consciousnesses seem to be quite separate.”

  “It’s like a carrier,” I said.

  “A what?”

  “Fynn described carriers, other versions of yourself that can lead you back to the past.”

  “I’ve never heard this term before.”

  “It all makes sense in a strange sort of way,” I said more for my own benefit. “In fact, I think that’s what happened to Anika.”

  “Fynn’s daughter?”

  “Yes… Do you know her?”

  “I met her once as Lilly and once as Chloe. She probably doesn’t remember yet.”

  “Yet? You met her in the future?”

  “That’s right.” Chloe smiled. “Anika seems to suffer from jamais vu, never seen: things which should be familiar are alien, for example, a common word might suddenly seem strange.”

  “That sort of makes sense…”

  “Or, she lives in a state of presque vu, almost seen… like being on the edge of an epiphany or realization, or a memory.”

  “I feel bad for her sometimes.”

  “And you, Patrick? What type of traveler are you?”

  I thought about it for a second. All my previous soft jumps came to mind: the carriers who brought me from a tundra to a dirigible, a drug addict me, a kid version, a divorced dad, and…”

  “Well?” Chloe asked. I had spent too much time thinking.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “That’s exactly why you’re here now. I’m going to teach you.”

  “Teach me what?”

  “Very few travelers master these skills before they die.”

  “What skills?” I asked.

  “The soft jump, I am meaning. The exchange of awareness between two selves.”

  “Are you sure you’re qualified?”

  “What?” she asked, taken aback, her eyebrow raised.

  “Well… given your predicament.”

  “This is exactly what makes me qualified.” Chloe laughed. “I will say that the further you jump, or let’s say, the more divergent your lives are, the more difficult it is to integrate the two.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It just is. Traveling is not at all what the others have made you think. Even Fynn has done you a disservice.”

  “How so?”

  “In many ways. First, I will say there is no future and no past, only the present. This is the boundary line, the very edge of time. I’m not meaning to be semantic, but when you travel, one can only jump to another present— regardless of where it might be. All travel must be seen this way.”

  “What way?”

  “As simply arriving in a different present.”

  “I never really understood that completely.”

  “You can only exist in one place at a time.”

  “What if you’re a doppelgänger?”

  “Eh?” Chloe laughed again. “Oh, you are meaning Mortimer’s cane. I suppose that’s an exception.”

  “What do you know about his cane?”

  “Very little, sadly.” She paused for a moment. “But it’s not about how far, how fast, how high you jump, or in what direction. It’s not about Edmund’s compass, Pavel’s devices… Nor is it about temples, nor a vortex. It is only about your memory, your awareness, concentration and focus. It is only about your present.”

  “Wait, are you the same Chloe trying to get her doctorate in astronomy?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “I am her… Understand, I do not disavow science, our place in the universe, the laws of physics… but we must also see beyond them.”

  “What are you trying to say exactly?”

  “Traveling to the past is simple: you jump and you’re there… either as a reincarnation of a previous self or as the same old you in a new location.” Chloe made a face. “The future though, well, that’s problematic.”

  “Why?”

  “Fynn makes it sound so easy, traveling to the future. It’s not though. Hard jumps are unnatural, as the searing pain might tell you… For me it’s usually a terrible experience. I never know where I’ll end up. Usually someplace horrid and unrecognizable.”

  “But a soft jump can only be a jump to the past,” I protested. “You can’t soft jump into the future.”

  “You are correct… nor will I deny the laws of causality; however, neither can I ignore how one’s past and one’s future are entangled.” She chose her words: “At this very moment it is the future that will decide your past.” Chloe smiled and gauged my reaction.

  “How so?”

>   “You have an errand to run.”

  “I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.”

  “But you do want to save Fynn, yes?”

  “Where is he?”

  “Northern Italy, in the fifteen century.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was there.”

  “Doing what?”

  “So many questions, Patrick.”

  “Well?”

  “He’s been imprisoned.”

  “By whom?”

  “I’m not sure.” Chloe looked around furtively, almost as if someone might be listening.

  “Mortimer?”

  “He may have had a hand in it.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Fynn, you mean? Oh, I suppose he’s done nothing but be himself.”

  “Why was he imprisoned then?”

  “No good reason, I’d guess.”

  I thought for a moment. “And what does all this have to do with the Voynich books?

  “I’m not sure that it does.”

  “It seems pretty likely… right place, right time…”

  “Oh, you know something about this. Well, my sister is obsessed with the manuscripts, that’s all.”

  “And Mortimer?”

  “She is neither aligned with Mortimer or not. Whatever suits her purposes for the moment.”

  “And you?”

  “I won’t say I wouldn’t like to read them… Study them… but I’m not obsessed like my sister.”

  I paused, trying to make sense of everything Chloe had said. “I don’t mean to offend you, but I think I need to talk to Lilly.”

  “Ha, I’m not offended at all, Patrick. She will meet you in the cottage.”

  I got to my feet with considerable difficulty and too much pain, but limped my way along the stream, following Chloe. I had more trouble breathing though, and had to lean against a tree when a terrible fit of coughing took hold. I looked down at my hand, my palm was covered with blood. This was not good.

  I watched Chloe now; she reached up and tied her hair back tightly. She also slipped on a pair of glasses and led me inside the stone cottage. Chloe was now Lilly. The changes were apparent if not subtle; the way she carried herself, her posture. She lit a lantern and sat down at a large wooden table.

  “Were you listening to any of this?” I asked.

  “Your chat with Chloe? Oh, some of it… I may have drifted off.” She smiled. It was the same as Chloe’s. Her voice was a bit different though, sharper. “I did hear you mention the manuscripts. You know where they are then?”

  “I thought they were yours,” I said.

  “They are mine… at least they were…”

  “Then you should know exactly where and when the books are.”

  “Oh, I do, but every time I go back for them, they seem to be gone… That dreadful Mears fellow, always interfering.” Lilly stopped and looked at me. “You know exactly where the books are, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know the exact time and place when all three books are together in the same room.”

  I made no reply.

  “Take me there now, please.”

  “I can’t. I mean, I won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a concurrency there and I don’t want to mess anything up.”

  “Change your timeline, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t suppose I can force you,” she said with a sigh.

  “You do realize Mears was working for Mortimer.”

  “Was he? Who told you that?”

  “He did.”

  “Well, that is not something I knew.” Lilly paused to consider.

  “Why does Mortimer want these books so badly?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure that he does. He’s never shown the slightest interest in them.”

  “I’ve experienced otherwise.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. He seems pretty obsessed by them. Almost as much as you.”

  “You must be mistaken. He cares little about such things.”

  “How well do you know Mortimer?”

  “Well enough.”

  “That’s not much of an answer. Well enough to trust him?”

  “What a thing to say. He’s been nothing but kind to me.”

  “What’s so important about these manuscripts?”

  “Many things, many mysteries.”

  “I thought they were unreadable, indecipherable.”

  “They are, but I happen to know where the man who wrote them is staying. He can translate them.”

  “I think you mean Geppetto.”

  “Who?”

  “He lives in the Flatlands. He’s mute though. Someone cut out his tongue.”

  “Oh, that’s disappointing.”

  “Who do you suppose would do something like that?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.”

  “I think you can guess.”

  “Not Mr Mears, surely?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t like this conversation at all, Patrick.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Just tell me where the books are, please. It will save us both a lot of bother.”

  “I can only tell you they’re safe, very safe— under lock and key, you might say.”

  “Alright… so long as Fynn hasn’t got his hands on them, I should be satisfied.”

  “Fynn? What does he have to do with the books?”

  “He has a nefarious agenda. He either means to destroy them or give them over to Lothar for some sort of destructive analysis. I’d never see them again.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It might.”

  “I’m not sure I remember… the Quantifier probably.”

  “Mr Q?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t him after all. Maybe it was…”

  “Mortimer,” I finished her sentence.

  Lilly rose and walked over to the hearth where a kettle was hanging. “Might I get you a cup of tea, Patrick? You don’t look at all well.”

  “No coffee?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Is that because you ran out, or there never was any?”

  Lilly laughed. “I see what you’re saying… the latter.”

  “I’m not even sure when I am.”

  “Didn’t Chloe tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Do you remember meeting me near the Library?” I asked.

  “Of course, it was just last week.”

  “You mentioned Drummond’s daughter.”

  “You mentioned her, not me.”

  “Okay, you might be right... but I need to know more about her.”

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “You’ve seen her though.”

  “Yes, I’ve run into her from time to time.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “I wouldn’t name her among my friends.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “She had a big smile, I remember that much.”

  “A nice smile?”

  “A big smile.”

  “That’s all you can say?”

  “Well, she is rather on the short side, about twenty-five, I’d guess, and with red hair, though dyed. It seemed an improbable color to me.”

  “Have you ever seen her with Mortimer?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Well, how do you suppose she came into existence?”

  Lilly made a face. “Oh yes, you and Fynn stopped Drummond from jumping, from duplicating himself— I’ve heard that story told…”

  “And?”

  “Perhaps you didn’t stop him from procreating.”

  “It’s as simple as that?”

  “It could be.”

  “But she’s a traveler, I think. Who taught her to do that?”

  “Who do
you suspect?”

  “Mortimer.”

  She laughed. “You like to blame him for things.”

  I was a little surprised by her reply but it did make me smile. “I guess I do.”

  “Perhaps someone whisked her away to the future, before you and Fynn stopped Drummond. She could still exist, and she’d be free to travel back anytime she wished.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “It seems likely.”

  “But… but…” I tried to wrap my head around what Lilly was saying.

  “She would have no concurrency… nowhere to soft jump— at least at first,” she said.

  “At first?”

  “Not unless she chose to linger in a particular present.”

  “That’s possible, right?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “And if she didn’t linger?”

  “Some might call her an Eraser. She can travel through time but has no previous existence to rely upon. Every time she jumps she is simply there in that present— there is no doubling, no doppelgänger, and no soft jumps for her.”

  “And all that made her bitter?”

  “Do you think? Bitter and perhaps quite vengeful.”

  ***

  Lilly closed her eyes and sat in a meditative state. I saw her take a deep breath. Her eyes opened and she turned to me. “There… Now I am Chloe again.”

  Her face seemed less careworn, happier. She slowly took off her glasses and let her hair loose. The transformation was subtle but astonishing nonetheless.

  “We have much to do and little time,” Chloe said, rising from her chair. She took me by the hand and helped me outside again, outside to the idyllic glen.

  “I am to teach you to use your skill,” Chloe began. “But first I must see that you have the mark.”

  “The mark?”

  “A small imperfection on your skin.”

  “Why?”

  “Not everyone is a traveler.”

  “No?”

  “Opinions vary on this subject, Patrick. What do you think?”

  “Me? I have no idea.”

  “Well, perhaps everyone travels… but very few have any awareness whatsoever.”

  I rolled up the cumbersome sleeve of my shirt and showed her my bare arm.

  “You have the mark.” She touched my shoulder.

  “It’s a smallpox vaccination.”

  “Fynn has such a mark on his right hand. Mortimer on his left forearm… Madeline on her…

  “…Inner thigh.”

  “You’ve seen Madeline Hicks’ thigh?” Chloe laughed.

  I also remembered seeing Anika naked, and a similar mark, just at the small of her back. It was an odd place for a vaccination.