The Outer Dark (Central Series Book 4)

by Zachary Rawlins

  The vampire nodded and waited.

  This reserve was typical for him, Anastasia knew. Lord Gao was much more comfortable letting his wife do the talking.

  “My father cannot rest while his enemies still draw breath, Lord Gao.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I have dispatched some of my best soldiers to Central, to force a reckoning with the Thule Cartel. Thule was not alone in attacking the Black Sun, however, and they are not without allies even now. I do not intend to stand idly by, Lord Gao.”

  Lord Gao nodded, while Anastasia watched the desert stretch its long red fingers.

  “The Anathema cooperated with the Thule Cartel in organizing the attack. We have not yet determined their motivations, but that can wait. Our enemies must be reminded that the Black Sun is not to be taken lightly. That, my Lord Gao, is the task I have set for myself.”

  “A noble undertaking.”

  “They have slain my father – the Lord of the Black Sun, our leader. They killed my uncle and left my brother in a coma. They would have killed your beloved wife as well, Lord Gao, had good fortune and the best of my servants not intervened.”

  Lord Gao’s eyes narrowed.

  “I am grateful, Mistress.”

  “They deafened my little sister, and they grievously injured my infant niece. If she survives, she will grow up without a father or a grandfather. What do you think an appropriate punishment for such behavior might be, Lord Gao?”

  “Whatever you decree,” Lord Gao answered instantly, without sparing a moment for consideration. “What else could suffice, Lady Martynova?”

  Anastasia glanced away from the encroaching desert, an expression of gratitude crossing her veiled face.

  “You are quite right, sir, and a loyal friend besides,” Anastasia proclaimed, turning back to the window. “I require an escort, Lord Gao, having been lately deprived of my own.”

  The vampire nodded, standing beside her in the kind of casual readiness that comes from several lifetimes of standing at attention.

  “Say no more of it. Tell me, however, before we depart – how do you fair, milady?”

  Anastasia put her fingers on the glass, her eyes distant and cold as the outer planets.

  “Not at my best, my lord. I find sleep elusive, knowing that those who killed my father sleep well.”

  “My family and I shall endeavor to rectify that situation,” Lord Gao promised. “What of my son, Daniel?”

  “I have dispatched him on my personal errands, Lord Gao. More than that I dare not say…”

  “Forgive me, Mistress, but you misunderstand,” Lord Gao said. “I do not make an inquiry as to his health or his present locale, but rather, his utility. Has my son found a way to be useful to you?”

  She glanced at him, and Lord Gao thought he saw just the least remnant of a smile beneath her veil.

  “Your son has proven very useful, Lord Gao,” Anastasia answered solemnly. “Stalwart in a time of need, like his father. I shall not forget.”

  The vampire nodded.

  “I am pleased to hear it,” Lord Gao said, with a rare smile of his own. “Perhaps then you might consider keeping him?”

  This time there was no need to wonder. The smile on Anastasia face may have been small and hesitant, but it was undeniable.

  “That is entirely speculation on your part,” Anastasia said. “That said…the young man is satisfactory, Lord Gao.”

  Lord Gao nodded, and they watched the Gobi Desert gnaw patiently at the plain.

  ***

  “Alex!” Emily called out. “Could you please stop now?”

  He was either beyond hearing or caring, eyes rolled back in his head, hand extended toward the frozen wreckage of the World Tree. All about the debris, panicked Anathema soldiers were scattered among their own dead. Some attempted to flee; others lay motionless. Those closest to the ongoing calamity were consumed, their mass and thermal energy bleeding out into the Ether. The breach that consumed the World Tree pulled at the debris field, an indistinguishable mess of ice and the fractured remainders of Tree itself flowing into the Ether.

  “This was a mistake, Miss Muir,” John Parson said, watching beside them and sounding truly regretful. “One that will haunt you, I’m afraid.”

  “Do you really think so? Today got a bit out of hand, perhaps, but that all sounds a bit much.” Emily offered Parson a bemused smile, subtly positioning herself between him and Alex, who was currently being shaken by Vivik, in a doomed attempt to stop the localized disaster. “Aside from the scale of the event, what was my mistake?”

  “When I asked you to impede Alistair’s plans to invade Central,” John Parson explained, staring at what used to be the World Tree forlornly, “I had hoped for subtlety, Miss Muir. The actions you have taken today will have far reaching and irrevocable consequences. This is hardly my agenda that you are advancing.”

  “You asked me to delay the invasion of Central, John, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. You’re just taking this hard because you didn’t specifically order me to do it so dramatically,” Emily chided. “Which, in one way, is totally understandable, but in another way, strikes me as petty and unfair.”

  “You’ve done what I required of you,” John Parson said, still transfixed by the wreckage. “That was anticipated. The extent of your intervention, however, appears to have gone beyond what I had imagined.”

  “I know that you are trying to maintain your gravitas,” Emily said. “You are coming off as a bit of a downer here, Mr. Parson. Did you really want Alistair to invade Central that badly?”

  “Not at all! I came here to persuade him to wait. It’s far too soon, and with a little patience, our friends in Central will do a perfectly acceptable job of killing themselves off. Delay our arrival only slightly, under the original circumstances, and we would have been greeted in Central as rescuers. Now, however, it seems that matters have spiraled out of control.”

  The glacial detritus of the World Tree emitted an unearthly shriek, and Vivik clamped his hands over his ears. Alex moaned and reeled aimlessly. The breach fluctuated, under the pressure of immeasurable forces, and Ether spilled out of it in long strands and ephemeral streamers, colliding with the black mist of the Outer Dark, slow-moving electrical discharge marking the points of contact.

  “There. You see? Ether flowing into the Outer Dark! A fine mess.” John Parson approached Emily, and she flinched, just slightly. “I would chastise you, but I doubt it would have any lasting effect.”

  “Probably not,” Emily agreed, her smile returning. “I’m not one for discipline.”

  John Parson walked past Emily, to where Vivik struggled with Alex, shouting in his ear and pulling on his arm. None of this had any effect on Alex, who continued to stumble toward the wreckage of the World Tree like a sleepwalker. John Parson laughed unhappily and whispered something in Alex’s ear, and Alex’s eyes sprang open, wide and outraged.

  “This is the Changeling’s meddling at work, no doubt,” John Parson muttered, stomping back to where Emily waited. “You have a decision to make, Miss Muir, regarding our future association. This is not at all what we agreed upon.”

  “That isn’t how I see it,” Emily protested. “You didn’t get into details. I think I’ve met the letter of our arrangement, Mr. Parson.”

  John Parson looked Emily up and down, and then started to laugh, his voice low and sonorous.

  “In a sense,” he allowed, “you’ve done just that, haven’t you? I suppose, Miss Muir, that I have to admit that much.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Emily said encouragingly. “We’re all winners here, Mr. Parson. I’ve done as you asked, after all. I have not impeded your plan in any way. I just added a few extra little touches.”

  John Parson laughed again, but this time it was strained and harsh. Emily took a small step backward.

  “You’ve done that, haven’t you? No one could deny it.” John Parson smiled at her, and Emily retreated again. “In that light, allo
w me to thank you for preventing the premature invasion of Central. The remainder of what you’ve done, however, I don’t recall asking for at all. The death of the World Tree, stage-managing a conflict between the Thule Cartel and the Black Sun…”

  “If you cared about my methods, then you should have said something before I started,” Emily said, with a pert smile. “It’s a bit late now.”

  Is it? John Parson thought at her, with a rueful expression. I think that perhaps we should still settle our accounts, Miss Muir.

  Oh, Mr. Parson, Emily thought back. Your past is showing, I’m afraid. You’re talking like an Auditor again.

  Well…

  Yes, yes. I know very well that old people get confused at times. Are you certain this is necessary?

  Quite necessary, I’m afraid, Miss Muir.

  Oh, fine, Emily thought, toying with a blonde tress. I’m not going easy on you, though.

  Vivik shook Alex like a can of spray paint, rattling his skull in his head.

  “Come on, man!” Vivik said, voice tight and hysterical. “You gotta do something! Emily needs help!”

  “What?” Alex said muddily, holding his head in both hands. “Why? There just looking at each other…”

  “No,” Vivik said urgently. “It just looks like that. John Parson is gonna kill Emily!”

  “Hold on one fucking second,” Alex said, grabbing Vivik by the shoulder and the back of the neck. “You and I need to have a talk.”

  ***

  “Come out, come out, Alice!” Alistair’s mocking voice echoed through the parking garage. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? You know as well as I do that John Parson will never forgive me if I kill you. So, I promise, I won’t do that. You have some things to answer for, obviously, but I’ll go easy on you. Fair enough?”

  The parking garage was unnaturally still, lacking footfalls or screeching tires. A car alarm sounded in the distance. Somewhere nearer, water dripped into an aggregating pool. The Anathema waited in the stark fluorescent light near the top of the exit ramp, certain they were not alone. Below them, the parking lot extended down another level, half of the lot converted into a covert manufacturing facility with stolen Black Sun materials. The only remaining exit lay behind them.

  Song Li smiled with Mitsuru’s face.

  “I don’t think she’s coming back,” she said, in her curiously precise North Korean-accented English. “Do you think she’s run away?”

  “No,” Alistair said, voice briefly monotone as he hunted. “Alice won’t run. She can’t. She’s still close. Xia and Hayley, too.”

  “This is getting old, boss,” Drake complained. “We have things to do.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, ingrate,” Alistair snapped. “The only thing you have to do is what I tell you to do.”

  Drake’s nostril’s flared, but he closed his mouth.

  “I don’t feel them anywhere in the vicinity,” Song Li remarked, turning Mitsuru’s head with the grace of an experienced puppeteer. “Do you, Alistair?”

  “Yes, but nowhere in particular,” Alistair said. He then cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to the parking lot. “Alice! I remember this trick! You’re hiding in your shadow, aren’t you?”

  “She’s what?” Drake said, with a skeptical expression.

  “Alice Gallow steps in and out of the shadows,” Alistair explained curtly. “If she likes, she can linger there, but only briefly, and at cost. She’s either moving the Auditors around rapidly, or she’s pulled them into her shadow. Either way, she’ll tire out soon.”

  “I don’t get this chick at all,” Drake muttered. “I thought she was an apport technician?”

  “Only because we don’t have a better name for what she does,” Alistair admitted. “There’s a reason John Parson wants her back, you know. Alice Gallow is a unique and precious snowflake.”

  There was an enormous crash behind them, as something collided with the massive grated curtain that sealed off the entrance to the parking lot, metal slats rattling and bending with the impact. The Anathema spun around, and then exchanged confused looks.

  “What was…?” Drake began.

  The curtain took another hit, and the center column of the frame snapped into two, metal slats coming free on one side, crashing to the ground with a tremendous ringing that echoed to the depths of the lower levels.

  “Auditors?” Song Li asked Alistair, licking Mitsuru’s lips. “Reinforcements?”

  “Can’t be,” Alistair said. “No apports, remember? And we already took care of…”

  It was unclear to the Anathema whether there was a third impact, or if the curtain simply yielded to damage and gravity. Either way, the metal slats broke loose of the curtain and went crashing to the concrete, bent and broken. The Anathema blinked as the bright Las Vegas sun came pouring in through the gaps and breaches in the curtain. There was a confusion of silhouettes and brilliance.

  A young man in fatigues shimmied his way through one of the larger breaches in the curtain.

  “Ms. Gallow?” He called out, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted. “Are you here?”

  “I’m afraid you’ve found us instead,” Alistair said warmly, with an inviting gesture. “So sorry, Min-jun.”

  “I know you’re there, Anathema.” Min-jun waved him off, looking around the garage. “I’m trying to talk to Ms. Gallow at present, however. Please be patient.”

  You’ll talk to me, instead, Alistair thought, advancing toward her. Easy way or hard. I’m partial to hard, myself...

  “How did they ever let you near the Academy?” Min-jun wondered aloud. “Were you always this way, and they just ignored it?”

  “I often wonder that myself.” Alistair grinned and looked pleased with himself. “Perhaps they simply found me useful?”

  Min-jun took a prudent step backwards.

  “Ms. Gallow?” Min-jun called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I apologize for our tardiness! Chike had trouble with the apport, and we had to drop him at a hospital on the way. We came straight to the Anathema faculty, but…”

  Alistair stepped in front of her, backing Min-jun into a corner.

  “…we still had to break into this garage,” Min-jun continued, shouting over Alistair’s shoulder. “Permission to begin?”

  “We?” Alistair turned toward the shattered grate. “Who could you possibly…?”

  Min-jun nodded to no one in particular, and then turned toward the metal curtain.

  “We’re clear!” Min-jun shouted. “Hit it!”

  The Anathema turned toward the metal grating as well, readying protocols and weapons.

  There was a rumble, and then the ceiling fell in directly above them, burying the Anathema in concrete and rebar. Grigori crouched atop the rubble, both fists crackling with vivid blue telekinetic energy, breathing hard and grimacing.

  “I am sorry for being late,” he announced, stepping carefully off the debris. “We had an extremely trying time, getting here, and…”

  Min-jun trotted over to Grigori’s side and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I already explained,” Min-jun said. “They know, Grigori.”

  “Oh.”

  ***

  Lord Gao only appeared to sleep on the flight. Behind his closed eyes and serene expression, the vampire was in extremely labored telepathic rapport with his wife. Only their long association and Lady Gao’s prodigious talents allowed their contact, and it came at a tremendous effort. The stewards made polite circles around him, instructed not to disturb, but reluctant to leave a passenger without service.

  I’m not sure if I should be jealous, Lady Gao thought. When did you last take me anywhere, I wonder?

  Don’t be foolish, Min.

  Why not? Times are grim enough on their own, husband.

  Too true, Lord Gao thought. I regret the hastiness of my departure.

  We will make up for it, then, on your return.

  Beside the veiled Lady Martynova, in the second seat of
a private plane that only made room for five, Lord Gao smiled at a false-wood panel wall, eliciting vague concern from a nearby stewardess, who did not intervene only at great personal cost.

  You flatter me, Min, but should I not return, you have no end of admirers.

  Too late for me, I’m afraid, Bohai, the Lady Gao thought back. I’m too old to consider new lovers.

  My good fortune, then, Min, Lord Gao thought. How shall I approach this matter?

  With honor and expedience. The Mistress of the Black Sun turns to us in her time of need. She will not forget our service.

  Yes, dear.

  You will do well, husband. Have faith in yourself.

  Yes, dear.

  And then return to me.

  That is a command, I assume?

  It is certainly not a request, Lord Gao.

  ***

  John Parson and Emily stood three meters apart, staring at each other in silence. There was no obvious strain, no discharge of forces or displays of light. Their struggle was invisible, and from Alex’s perspective, probably fictional.

  “Come on! You’ve got to…he’s going to kill her!” Vivik whined, pulling on his arm. “You don’t get it!”

  “I don’t,” Alex said calmly, maintaining his grip on Vivik. “Help me understand.”

  “Understand what?” Vivik cried. “Emily is no match for John Parson, okay?”

  “Not that,” Alex said, attempting to look Vivik in the eyes. “Where is Eerie?”

  “I don’t know!” Vivik shouted. “Back in Central!”

  “What about Katya?” Alex asked. “What did you do with Katya?”

  “You keep saying that,” Vivik said, struggling to break Alex’s hold. “What does that even mean?”

  “You claim you came to rescue me. There is no way – no way! – that Katya and Eerie wouldn’t be a part of that. Even if you managed to fool Eerie, Katya would have known. She would have noticed what you were up to. Explain it to me, Vivik. Did you forget to ask them for help?”

  Vivik glanced at John Parson and Emily. Neither had moved.