The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6)

by Richard Raley

  Everything. Okay, maybe not everything.

  Not her.

  But everything else . . . still pretty fucked.

  Got the vague idea of a plan and it ain’t nearly as good as the one ended with me in the Pit. In fact . . . it’s a fucking rerun. Reboot. Better computer effects this time around, but does it still have the heart of the original? Payoff was the only thing I was after. That and my reboot being better than that Ghostbusters shit-show.

  “Sure you don’t want me to go back to keeping secrets? Think that would feel better than telling you about last night . . .”

  “No secrets again, ever,” Valentine told me, kneeling next to me. No court today, so she hadn’t worn a business dress. Got to see her in sneakers, jeans, and a black top, long blond hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. “The guard was different . . . did you get in a fight with the last one?”

  My mouth opened, but then shut. It felt like if I told her, that was it. I couldn’t ignore it. I’d have to accept a new reality . . . again. Just like usual. Long time to accept it by my standards but here we were. Again and again. This whole week, enemy might have changed, but the theme kept up. Recognized that as surely as Ceinwyn had me as a Maximus.

  Except this time it was Susan.

  Part of why I accepted things so easily is I don’t have others around.

  Just me.

  Fruit fly guy. You made fruit flies with butterfly wings. Good on you, Nicky!

  Hate strings. Had a string I forgot all about. Important string tied right inside of me, yank it out and the world goes red. A chain as Paine called it. Susanna Belle Price. She deserved more than me just accepting what had happened to her and moving on. Deserved more than what life she’d been dealt. Deserved more than having me be the one choosing the future for the both of us.

  It was the Pit of No Return.

  Again.

  I couldn’t escape it.

  Before, at least I could see the walls. Before, at least I believed in an end somewhere down below, but now . . .

  Not just new knowledge, not just having the Learning Council on my ass about being a Maximus or whatever shit would come out of that acknowledgement, not just me taking four-hundred lives in my hands and snuffing them out. If I told Val, there would be no more ignoring Paine. No more waving it away, saying he’s out there somewhere, not here thank the Mancy. Let ESLED or the Divine Falschein or someone else deal with him. Even after what happened with Eva, even after what Vega told me, even knowing a confrontation was inevitable . . . this wasn’t a confrontation.

  This was a call for annihilation.

  This was recognition that one day, one of us would kill the other.

  Recognition that if I didn’t pull this off, one day might be seventy-two hours away.

  Soon as I said it, soon as I told Val, everything was on the line. Every string I had to pull, every chain Paine had to command . . . all of it. A vortex of convergence, of two enemies circling and outmaneuvering each other until no one can be sure who’s winning in that inescapable gyre of fog and blood.

  Val forced her smile back into existence, just for me. Ain’t like Ceinwyn’s. I talk about smiles a lot. Something I rarely do, so just another common gesture I’m outside of. Smiles. Like love in a way. Happiness so easily given with just a twist of lips, a showing of barest teeth. Val seemed to read my thoughts, or at least some of them. “You told me you loved me, this can’t be that hard in comparison. Or do I need to wait six months again?”

  Despite the situation, I felt a bit better. Asshole Mode: Tolerably Itchy down to Need a Supplemental Shitting. “Took me a lot longer than six months.”

  “Less than a decade I would think. Ours wasn’t a love at first sight situation,” she teased.

  “Done apologizing for that dog crack.”

  “Nope, you need to do it for eternity.”

  Didn’t smile, but maybe my scowl did disappear. Asshole Mode: Supplemental Shitting down to Ate Too Much Curry. “You planning to stick around that long?”

  She dipped in just far enough to peck me on the cheek. “Long as we can at least.”

  “No more dumping me?”

  “Biggest mistake of my life,” she said seriously.

  I rolled my eyes a little, trying to tease her and self deprecate at the same time. “To be so lucky to have only that simple mistake as your largest. Got some work to do to catch up with the master of big mistakes, that’s for sure.”

  She pulled out another chair to sit beside me. Hand reached out to clasp mine. Val ain’t a small girl, but my hands always been on the massive side. Bigger hands than such a short shit should ever have, that’s for sure. Scarred. Callused. Hands in use. Not soft like hers. Only mark was on her left ring finger, where she held a pen. Lots of writing as Assistant Director for International Recruiting apparently. Wore the custom SDR I made for her on the right. Silver felt even softer than her skin did.

  “Did you punch a wall?” she asked after studying my knuckles.

  Iron fist protected them for the first instinctive lashing out, but maybe there had been a couple more punches between then and now. “Yeah.”

  “What did you get up to in a locked room that would make you want to punch a wall? Even you don’t have that large a temper. Please tell me . . . you promised you would get some sleep and—”

  “I didn’t realm-jump,” I stopped her before she could start. Val’s not one to scold and definitely not one to pooh-pooh any wild idea you might come up with, but she also knows my stubborn ass occasionally needs a push to remember it’s human. “I had a visitor . . . or, I went to visit him at least. No choice in the matter.”

  “Is Massey stepping up the pressure?” she went with the obvious choice.

  I let out a long breath and accepted my new reality finally, knowing that by saying the words to her it would make it all inescapable. Out I jumped into the Pit of No Return yet again. Not just me. Susan too. All the strings. Flapping about behind me as I fell.

  “The Curator,” I said his title. Title was better than his real name.

  Oh.

  Ba.

  Die.

  Uh.

  Val’s not one to gasp like a southern belle either, but she did this time. “What?”

  “The Curator has bribed every golem in this prison. He waltzed in, had them take me to him, then he offered me a deal. A deal I accepted, since I had no other choice.”

  “We need to get Ceinwyn,” was her immediate reaction, still more trusting of authority than I ever would be, “and you have to tell her.”

  The scowl returned to my face, Asshole Meter threatening to spike back up. “We were just getting along again . . . now she won’t just be frustrated with me for all the political fallout I’ve created, she’ll hate me.”

  “She won’t. I know you’re scared, but she won’t.”

  “I won’t what?” Ceinwyn asked as she made her typical entrance at exactly the right moment. She led in a small huddle of people, all of them low-level Guild servants. Cared less about who they were and more about the fact they were all carrying various trays of food. Was even pitchers filled with tea and orange juice, not to mention a pot of coffee so humongous even I might have trouble downing all of it by myself.

  Val and I immediately clammed up around all the strangers.

  Ceinwyn’s smile twitched, apparently liking something about the reaction. “One of those secrets you still haven’t told me, King Henry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The one that could wait until later? Or the one that had you squirming?”

  “Both revolve around the same subject and yeah, that would be them.”

  “Well, well. Can’t imagine how it could be more shocking than your last . . . but, everyone out then, please. Thank you for carrying our breakfast. Be sure to inform Alexander that his kitchens and cooks match even the Institution’s, he’ll be very happy to know it.” Ceinwyn’s ageless eyes squinted my way. “As apparently I won’t be very soon . . .”
/>
  We ate in silence.

  Again for me.

  Except the toast had six different jams and jellies to choose from. Aeromancers and their sweet-tooths. Sweet-teeth? I feel like we’ve had this conversation before . . . More jams or not, didn’t focus on it. Focused in on some hash-browns, some eggs, and of course: bacon, bitch! Val did try out some jalapeno jelly. Seemed to like it. Think my Asshole Mode can be bad, should see hers.

  Eating.

  Talked about that before too.

  Back when all this began. Before this set of tapes even. Eating to cover up a more serious conversation. Ceinwyn and me do it all the time. Right from the beginning in that Mom and Pop on the way to the Asylum.

  Ten minutes of peace before the explosion started. First Ceinwyn, then it would spread. Maybe better to say it’s an implosion since everything would be pulled not pushed. On down the knots and strings that make up human civilization, maybe even to parts of the world that have no human in them. The Void, the Gap, black hole of a choice with no escape.

  Ain’t being overdramatic at all, I promise.

  Ceinwyn smiled throughout all of breakfast, curious and pleased that there was something more for her to learn from me. Another ledge for me to jump off of, with her at my back shouting ‘What an interesting choice, King Henry! Mind the rocks and aim for the water!’

  What had happened in the Geo Realm had gone a long way to equalize our new relationship. Felt good. Felt right between us. No matter how strong I got, she’d always be Auntie Badass. But . . . maybe I wasn’t her punk nephew any longer. Punk ally or . . . just plain punk.

  “Did you inform the whole Council about King Henry’s new status? Or just the Lady?” Val asked to break the silence for me, ease us in. Mancy knows a problem this big and a subject this touchy would need some industrial-grade lube.

  “Just the Lady. Not the time for more,” Ceinwyn explained, switching her smile between us. What are you two kids up to? “The wrong members were on the call. For one, we don’t want someone to inform Alexander before we do. Two, a number were already greatly displeased with what they heard about court yesterday and I didn’t want to agitate them unnecessarily.”

  “Root,” I grunted.

  “Among others who dislike you,” Ceinwyn agreed.

  “He’s the only one who’s tried to kill me . . . that I know about.”

  “You lived and you weren’t the target.”

  “Only because King Henry crushed the Constructs before they turned on him,” Val stuck up for her man.

  “I’m not defending Mordecai’s allegiances,” Ceinwyn placated, “and I fully plan on crushing more than his Constructs one day, but let’s not create enemies where there are already plenty to be had.”

  “Dingle, Erikson the Elder, one of Massey’s cousins, both the Welfs, and Mr. Gullick,” I finally listed the rest if my first pick wasn’t the culprit. “Lot of prudish assholes on the Learning Council, ain’t there? Present company excluded . . . mostly.”

  “Mr. Gullick isn’t anything of the sort,” Val kept defending, this time one of her favorite teachers. Mine too really, despite our . . . unfortunate incident. “That was your fault. You also never apologized to him.”

  I grunted, edge of my lips curving just a little bit imagining that incident playing out with different actors. “You think Pete Ward chase me for a mile he caught me motorboating you?”

  “I’m much more circumspect than Naomi ever was,” Val pointed out primly. “Except for the whole having-sex-in-the-middle-of-the-mushroom-forest thing we did a few days ago . . .”

  “Few days,” I grunted again. “Days.”

  “Quite a long while ago,” Val agreed, looking a little hungry despite just having eaten.

  “No,” Ceinwyn immediately put her foot down. “No quickies. Not with me in the other room and especially not after all your brooding and moping, acting like the world is crashing down around you.”

  “Only take five minutes,” I still tried to find a much needed distraction from the incoming implosion.

  “Don’t know if I’m interested myself if it will only last five minutes,” Val playfully changed sides. “Might be better if we have this talk and wait for more time to do things right.”

  I stared some frustration at her. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “I know you do. But if I wasn’t doing this, then you’d never get to the point, would you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Val gave me that look of hers. Do the right thing, King Henry. She even tipped her head towards Ceinwyn a couple of times.

  Third time.

  “So no one knows about me still?” I dodged the bullet.

  Val might have face-palmed. Ignore her, I know I did. Make fun of my five minute grunting and humping will she? I’ve been practicing those sessions since I was fourteen!

  Okay, okay. So she was right. Last stitch and all that. Rip it out already. What’s the last one compared to the twenty came before it? Well . . . might be that last stitch holding your intestines in. I mean . . . I’m not a doctor, but that’s a great fucking analogy. Also not a literature student, so . . . might not technically be an analogy.

  “The Lady has been made aware,” Ceinwyn expanded on her earlier report. “About that at least, and about how I’m planning to extricate you from this prison. She didn’t approve of the step I took, especially without consulting her first, but she can hardly complain too much given that she did the same with me, can she? I even waited until you were older . . . not nearly as wise as me, even when I was a teenager, but surely you are older . . .”

  I tried to fill in for Val what she’d missed while unconscious from the drugged up wine. Hadn’t been a lot of time yesterday in court and what little we did have had gone towards the larger points, not the more intimate ones. No five minutes to steal yesterday either. “The Lady told Ceinwyn about them each being a Maximus when Ceinwyn was only eighteen.”

  “I know, Ceinwyn and I had a conversation about it all last night . . . when I thought you were sleeping . . . peacefully, in your bed.” Val shut her mouth to stop from spilling what were rightly my beans. Even if all I was doing at the moment was polishing said beans over and over, with not a bit of spillage to be had.

  “All of it?”

  “Some of it,” Val corrected herself. “A tiny bit of it. I haven’t said the magic words to Ceinwyn after all . . . it would be illegal to tell me all of it.”

  “I advised her against doing so in any case,” Ceinwyn said ominously. “Better if we only have one Maximus acclimating to their new duties at a time.”

  “ . . . What the fuck does that mean?” I couldn’t help myself. “And why did my pee-hole just clamp up?”

  The way they both shared a smile only made it worse. “You’ll see,” Val said, not helping my trepidation at all this time, “assuming you stop picking up every bauble you can to distract us and actually explain what happened last night before I Fireball of Doom you out of frustration.”

  “In the Pit,” I found another bauble. “No fireballs. Doom or otherwise.”

  “I’ll find a way,” she mockingly threatened.

  There went the last bauble.

  Gone.

  Just me . . .

  On the edge.

  Everyone lined up behind me.

  Bunch of lemmings.

  I sighed out any hope I had of avoiding this for even a few more minutes. Bless Val for trying to improve my mood. Bless Ceinwyn for a decent breakfast I sorely needed. But . . . here it was. Out with it, fucktard, your intestines come with that last stitch then too fucking bad, ain’t it? “We have a problem, a very big problem. No way around it. We can decide how it happens, how it plays out, but not if it will happen.”

  When they didn’t say anything, no more jokes, no more interruptions, but listened quietly to hear me out, I continued, “The Curator has bribed the entire golem network of this building with nature anima. He used them to break Isabel out almost a year ago. Last night
, he used them to sneak himself into the Pit and then had them lead me to the same cell, Isabel’s cell . . . where we had a conversation.”

  Having heard this part, Val was more relaxed. Ceinwyn, on the other hand, immediately went rigid from head to toe. Lot like I had last night on hearing Paine’s voice. “The Curator is in London?”

  “He’ll already have left,” I told her, “he got what he wanted.”

  “He didn’t—” Val started, before I pulled out the World-Breaker from inside my coat. “Oh, thank the Mancy . . .”

  “He’s been planning this since we ran into him in Seattle, Val. Lots of little experiments and attacks and all sorts of recruitment along the way, but part of his game was in the waiting. Waiting until Massey called in his chit to throw me in here. Because he wants this more than anything. He wants to see the Geo Realm, talk to Meteyos, figure out how to transfer nature anima just like he figured out how to transfer animal anima. More than he even wants to be the Maximus of the Earth, since he left me alive. Although, he’s so full of himself and I bluffed convincingly enough . . . he might have bought that I’m not. Guess it don’t matter, after I give him the World-Breaker, he’ll either kill me or leave me alive a broken man and I’ll have no say about it.”

  “Which you will never do,” Ceinwyn straight up ordered me with every ounce of authority she wielded. “The mancer world hasn’t seen a danger like the Curator to its stability since our modern framework was founded, perhaps even since the Augustus Reforms. We can’t allow that same danger to go around poking holes through existence itself. It’s bad enough you’ve done it and at least I know you want to stop. No matter what threat he’s made to you, King Henry, we can’t—”

  “He has my sister,” I finally dropped the first hammer. “He has Susan. Has had Susan for years. Ultra necromancer. A fucking Bonegrinder . . . a douchebag showoff, my own Big Sis. Guess you missed her back in the day. Great fucking job, Recruiters. Again. Missed every fucking Price except for me and still almost did that too. Well, the Curator didn’t miss.”

  Val was across our seats and had her arms around me faster than I thought was possible. “Oh, King Henry,” she whispered into my ear. “Oh, Mancy no . . .”