“It’s a plant-based sedative. It’s normally used to address insomnia and is fairly mild, I think,” Diana said. “The real question would be, What did they blend it with?”
She pulled back the bedspread. Bending down, she pulled on the medical tape securing the tube to the crook of her daughter’s arm.
“What are you doing?” Mara asked.
Diana slowly removed the needle and dabbed a dot of blood with the corner of the bedspread. “We’ve got to stop the sedative and get her awake. We can’t carry her out of here.”
“True. Which brings up another question. With the Bowraith Spire no longer accessible, we’ll need to leave using the bridge from the skyboxes—the way Sam and Ping got here, assuming that was them making the noise earlier.”
Diana patted her daughter’s cheek and got no response. “It may take a while for the sedative to wear off. Why don’t I stay here with her, and you go look for Sam and Ping?”
“What if someone finds you here?”
She hugged the chobodon who had raised her front legs to rest on the mattress at Mara’s side. “I’ve got Ginger. Besides, we need Sam and Ping to lead us out, and, if we both get pinned down here, we’re sunk in terms of escaping. Right?”
Mara wasn’t convinced, but she couldn’t come up with an effective counterargument.
“Go find your brother and your friend. I’ll get Mara ready to go,” she said, turning away as if the decision had been made.
While mildly irked, Mara gave in to the logic and walked to the door. She didn’t like the feeling of abandoning her mother—her counterpart’s mother—and just hoping for the best. On the other hand, she had to find out what happened to Sam and Ping. She continued to wrestle with the conflict as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Voices came down the hall.
For a second, she froze, pressed her back against the door and considered reentering the room.
“The bowraiths must retract their tendrils before the central column can be rotated and the spire reopened,” one of the voices said.
“Imagine the mess if the intruders were crushed on the stairwell,” another voice said.
“Where is Brother Theodore? Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding the entrance?”
A group of three robed figures rounded the bend at Mara’s right and froze when they saw her. The lead acolyte pointed and yelled, “It’s the Destroyer! Seize her!”
Mara’s room is a dead end. Lead them away.
Mara kicked off from the door and sprinted down the hall to the left. As she ran, the robe constrained her legs and slowed her down, so she untied the belt, slipped the robe off her shoulders and flung it behind her as the pursing acolytes rounded the bend. The garment splayed widely, like a fishing net, and landed on their heads. Slowing down to disentangle themselves, they disappeared from sight.
Despite freeing herself and her legs of the cumbersome garment, Mara found it difficult to get up to a full sprint thanks to the curvature of the hall, which increased dramatically, at one point turning into a sharp U-turn. She visualized the outside of the oval Apex suspended above the Arboretum.
Must be at one of the roundy ends.
Rapid footfalls thumped behind her as she slowed to make the sharp turn. Ahead, the hall still bowed outward, but she gained some speed as she barreled forward. She kept her head down, eyes focused on the colorless carpet, as hotel-like doors swept past. Distance voices—excited but undiscernible—trailed somewhere behind her.
There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
A shift in the ambient light caught her attention, and she looked up. Several yards ahead was another open space, perhaps a large salon like the one at the other side of the Apex. Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, faster.
It better be empty.
Mara plunged out of the hall into the open space and collided with a large armchair. Flipping over its back, her shoulder bounced off the chair’s arm and sent her spiraling in the air until she struck a floor lamp that crashed next to her as she crumpled to the floor.
Shaking her head, she pushed herself up to a sitting position on the floor. It took a second for her eyes to focus and for her to realize a roomful of robed people stared back at her. They parted to reveal Curate Tran standing on a riser at the center of the room.
With a jauntiness that seemed discordant with her black leather outfit and demeanor, she stepped to the floor, slid her arm over the shoulders of an acolyte with a bag over his head and pantomimed a loud stage whisper into his ear.
“Look, little brother. Your Mara is here.”
CHAPTER 38
“Let us go, and we won’t cause you any trouble,” Mara said as she stood, nudging the shattered floor lamp out of the way with her foot. Even as the words came out of her mouth, they sounded ineffectual, made seemingly more ridiculous when she stepped forward, and glass crunched under her feet.
“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave,” Tran said. “After all, I built all this for you.” She held out her arms broadly.
Before Mara could respond, Tran turned to the gathered acolytes and ordered, “Find the mother, the one with the pig-thing.” Nodding her head toward Mara, she added, “You’ll probably find her in the room with the one who looks like her. If you find her there, keep them in the room until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”
The man at the front of the group asked, “Which of us do you wish to go?”
“All of you. I can deal with our visitors. Now go,” she said.
The acolytes turned and jogged toward the hallway at the far side of the large salon, the one through which Mara had first observed the room. As they left, she mentally kicked herself for not realizing that a curved hallway in an oval structure would eventually bring her again to this large room.
Once the acolytes were gone, Tran’s gaze shifted back to Mara. The curate assessed her captive and seemed to be disappointed in what she saw. Indicating the exposed mechanics of Mara’s right arm, Tran said, “You’ve turned yourself into one of the gadgets you love to fix so much. Such a shame that your friend Abby torched your real body, or maybe I should say it was the Aphotis.”
“How do you know what happened to me?” Mara asked.
“I get around.”
“What did you mean that you built all this for me?” Mara asked.
“The Arboretum and the circumstances. This entire building was designed to capture and kill you. It took quite a bit of planning and an extraordinary amount of effort and—how would your Mr. Ping put it?—metaphysical energy to build. You should be flattered.” She drew in the arm that still dangled across Sam’s shoulders—a parody of a quick hug.
“Looks like you went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t call it nothing. Here you are—with no way out.”
“But we’re still alive. Your trap didn’t work.”
Tran chuckled. “Not completely but, when dealing with you, I’ve learned to play the long game. Even with my best-laid plans, you seem to have a penchant for punching enough holes in them to survive. I credit that to our similar natures—we are too much alike. Despite all we’ve been through together, here we are.”
What the hell is she talking about? “You sound like you’ve been in this relationship a lot longer than I have,” Mara said.
Tran laughed. “Yes. In a way, that’s true.”
Something tingled at the base of Mara’s neck, almost like a shiver wanted to run down her spine, but a deep-seated reptilian-brain fear kept it from being loosed. Shake off the fear. Focus on the facts. Examine the situation—like any broken record player in the fix-it shop. Find out why it’s not working the way you want. “Where is Ping?” Mara asked.
From beneath the cloth bag over his head, Sam said, “She did something to him, but I couldn’t see what.”
“Quiet, little brother,” Tran said. She grabbed the covering and twisted it tightly to his neck. “I’m not sure how airtight this thing is. Save your bre
ath.”
“Stop that,” Mara said, staring at the wad of cloth in Tran’s grip. When she released it, Mara asked, “What happened to Ping?”
Without taking her gaze away from Mara, Tran walked to an end table next to the couch facing away from where Mara stood. There, Tran retrieved a shiny gray object and held it up, cupped in her hand like a model showing off a prize on a game show.
Because of its color, it took Mara a minute to recognize the receptacle. “That’s Ping? But how?”
Tran shrugged. “Not much of a challenge to wrangle him if you understand the panic-dispersal tendencies of creatures from his realm.”
Mara stopped herself from asking again how Tran knew so much about them. Clearly Tran was more than a charismatic religious leader from this realm.
Tran rolled the receptacle around between her palms like a child’s ball for a moment, then looked up, her gaze locked on Mara. “I once encountered a tribe of aboriginal types not too far from here—in a different Reality where the people never developed technologically. They learned and evolved by eating things. For example, if they wanted to learn to swim, they’d consume a fish. To fly, a bird. It was quite remarkable.”
“I’m not sure I understand the point of this story,” Mara said.
With a finger, Tran traced a circle in the air the width of a basketball, parallel to the floor, next to her hip. A line of sparks trailed her fingertip and fused together as they spun in a circle. Soon they brightened and merged into what looked like a rotating band of neon, inside of which swirled a murky darkness that occasionally flashed like a lightning storm. When she withdrew her finger, the circle continued to rotate in midair.
“Before they could consume whatever they wished to draw knowledge from, they liquefied it by dropping it through what they called the Portal of Learning. You see? They drank the remains of what passed through the portal. That’s how they learned.”
With two fingers, Tran held the receptacle containing Ping above the spinning opening and released it.
“No!” Mara yelled.
The receptacle hovered in the air above the portal.
“What happened?” Sam asked, his head turning back and forth under the cloth bag.
“Nothing. Yet,” Tran said. “Though I would suggest the two of you not do anything that would interrupt my concentration. Not only would Mr. Ping be pureed but he’d make a terrible mess on the carpet since there’s no vessel to catch him below the portal.”
“What do you want?”
“Cooperation.”
“Meaning what?” Mara asked.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that killing you outright seems to be … problematic, from a metaphysical perspective. At least that is my best guess. There are forces at work here that I don’t have a handle on. However, one thing is clear. Every time I attempt to eliminate you, something intervenes to stop me. Therefore, I’ll settle for neutralizing you.”
“You want me to cooperate in neutralizing me? What does that even mean?”
“You’re effectively neutralized already. Cooperation means you will remain here, in the Apex of the Arboretum,” Tran said.
“Here? In this suspended bubble? For how long?”
“Forever. So you can no longer interfere.”
“Interfere with what?”
“With me and with what I need to do.”
“I thought you needed to avenge the destruction of your beliefs. Isn’t that what you promised your followers—to bring the Destroyer of the Faith to justice? Won’t they expect you to exact some retribution?”
Tran smiled. “You understand so little, don’t you?”
“That’s why you sent the acolytes away. Your agenda and theirs are not the same. It doesn’t take a dozen people to contain a sleeping girl, her mother and a chobodon,” Mara said. “You didn’t want them to hear what you had to say to me.”
“They will get the revenge they seek. After all, we have more than one Mara to give them,” Tran said. “They won’t know the difference.”
“What makes you think I will cooperate with you while you allow your acolytes to murder my counterpart?” Mara asked.
Tran’s gaze shifted slowly sideways to settle on the floating receptacle still dangling above the portal. The opening emitted a flash of lightning, and she smiled. “There is the matter of Mr. Ping,” she said. “And your little brother here.”
She walked—again sauntering—behind Sam. Pinching the bag over his head between two fingers, she plucked it off, throwing it over her shoulder, allowing it to fall to the floor. As Sam blinked, she grabbed both sides of his head, pressing her palms against his temples and splaying her fingers over his forehead and cheeks, leaving his eyes uncovered.
“If you look at me or attempt to prompt me, Mr. Ping will be liquefied. Understand?” she said.
Sam lowered his head a bit, as much as she would allow him to nod.
“Whatever you’re planning, don’t,” Mara said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t take him away from you, but I think a demonstration of my sincerity is called for. Your cooperation is not negotiable if you wish to keep Mr. Ping and your brother alive,” Tran said. “Of course your mentor will remain in his container. And, as for this one …” She slid her fingers over Sam’s eyes and pressed them tightly enough that Mara could see impressions in her brother’s flesh. His head trembled, and a faint light glowed beneath Tran’s fingers, backlighting her skin and giving it a reddish tinge.
“What are you doing?” Mara asked. “Stop!”
Sam gasped, shook his head and tried to wriggle away, but Tran kept a tight grip on him. The light intensified for several seconds, then disappeared. From between Tran’s fingers, a spark of green flitted into the air and alighted on Sam’s chest.
Mara wasn’t sure what she was seeing.
Tran removed her hands. Sam blinked several times and shook his head. Raising his hands, he rubbed his eyes, a look of panic sweeping his face.
“What’s wrong?” Mara asked.
Sam turned to her, his head moving jerkily in her direction. “I can’t see,” he said. “She blinded me.”
CHAPTER 39
“Mara!” Sam cried. “Do something! Don’t let her do this to me!”
So shocked, it took her a moment to catch her breath enough to speak. “There’s nothing I can do, Sam. I don’t have my abilities. She has suppressed them somehow.”
“How can that be? You are a progenitor. You can change Reality,” Sam said.
Tran patted his cheek, puckering her lips in a patronizing pout. “You’re in my Reality now, little brother.”
Sam flinched away from her touch.
“Don’t worry,” Mara said. “I’ll figure something out.” She glanced at the green spark that clung to Sam’s shirt, just above one of the buttons at the center of his chest. It pulsed more brightly, flitted upward to settle on the pocket on the left side of his chest. For some reason, it struck Mara as odd that Sam wasn’t wearing a T-shirt with one of those ridiculous cartoons. Diana must have made him wear something warmer for the hike through the swamp.
“It’s time to decide. You and your brother can remain here in the Apex, out of the way, and Mr. Ping stays where he is. In exchange, I let you live.”
“No deal,” Sam said. “You can’t leave me like this.”
“That’s nonnegotiable,” Tran said to Mara. “No way will you hold up your end of the bargain if he is able to prompt people.”
The green spark flared brighter and now looked more familiar, more like the light from the receptacle that had carried Sam’s counterpart. What could he be up to?
“I won’t stay here forever, even if I’m blind,” Sam said. “No matter what kind of deal you guys make.”
“Sam, shut up and let me work through this,” Mara said. She forced herself not to look at the green spark that now floated and bobbed just below Sam’s shoulder, as if it were purposefully avoiding being seen by Tran. “You cannot expect me to deal away my
counterpart’s life, like she’s an old bicycle in a yard sale. I can’t do that, even to save ourselves,” Mara said. “Given the abilities you’ve demonstrated, there must be a way you can give your acolytes what they want without actually sacrificing Mara.”
“You want me to deceive my followers?”
“Haven’t you already? They have no idea who or what you are.”
“Neither do you.” She smiled while looking superior and considered the notion. “I let your counterpart and her mother live, and you will cooperate? That’s a lot of bodies that will need to be guarded.”
“Like you said, we’ve been neutralized. What’s two more people? This place looks large enough to accommodate us without too much trouble.”
“Very well,” Tran said. “But I have one stipulation. One of you Maras must remain sedated at all times. Considering the challenges one of you has been, I have no desire to contend with two Maras at one time. Also you should be aware that at the first sign of trouble, I will kill—”
The green spark flew past Sam’s shoulder like a bullet and into Tran’s left eye. An emerald sheen melted over her almond-shaped irises and flashed brightly for a split second before Tran screamed and staggered backward.
Sam cocked his head blindly. “What’s happening?”
“Don’t move!” Mara said.
The floating receptacle holding Ping wobbled in the air above the spinning portal. Mara dove toward it with her skeletonized metallic arm outstretched. As she vaulted forward, a bright yellow arc of energy burst from her fingertips and struck the edge of the portal, which exploded in a burst of light. The wall of air there flipped Mara over and flung her across the room into the toppled armchair she’d fallen over earlier.
Shaking stars from her eyes, she clawed her way over the seat of the chair, now on its side. Shakily standing, she saw Sam crawling across the carpet away from where the blast had happened. “Are you hurt?” she yelled.
“No,” he said. “Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. I’m just getting out of the way.”
Broken Spells (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 6) Page 23