by Sean Hancock
But what is this?
Instead of seeing people, instead of seeing the familiar (and solid!) components of the material world, I’m confronted by a complex and intricate grid of pure, glowing energy. Not only that, I know how to bend it to my will. It’s simply a matter of using my imagination. Guided by instinct, I get to work on eradicating anything that stands in my way, crushing hearts, breaking necks, spreading fire, even sucking souls out of bodies and hurling them into other dimensions. Until now, I thought there were just two planes of existence: spirit and material. But it seems the truth is much more nuanced than that.
How naïve I have been!
“Very good, my child,” says the voice. It feels wonderful to please him, and I project chaos and pain toward the right balcony, showing absolutely no mercy as I kill, burn, and maim. Some of the capsules are also exploding, sending shards of glass through the air like razor blades, spilling green, syrupy liquid onto the floor, turning it into an ice rink.
The air smells of blood, charred flesh, and urine, but instead of feeling sick or mournful, I feel stronger and more resolved.
I can see the world normally now. Rebus is standing straight ahead, terror in his eyes. Kaya has disappeared. I reach an imaginary hand out to grab him, but out of nowhere, more of his soldiers appear, a group of them running toward me, firing their guns. I brush the darts away as if they are matchsticks, unleashing hell and murder as I go, hearing bones break and men scream and lives end.
It feels good to kill.
It feels right.
I step through the heap of bodies toward where Rebus had been standing, but he is no longer there.
The people who are yet to die at my hands are disappearing into doors and tunnels I hadn’t noticed until now. I have to assume Rebus is one of them. Either that or he is hiding. Just in case, I begin to weave between the rows of broken capsules like a deadly predator certain of the kill (taking care not to slip). While doing so, I edge past prisoners of the Long Sleep who have fallen to the ground, their bodies glistening from the liquid they had been suspended in. Some are even starting to emerge from their slumbers by vomiting green mucous onto the floor. They look like they have no idea who or what they are.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn, pulling the knife out of my pocket, ready to plunge it into Rebus’s heart when . . .
Is it really you? I think, all of that hate and anger dissolving in an instant, feelings of tenderness and hope poking through like flowers in the cracks of pavements.
Being propped up on either side by Echo and Bythos is my master. He looks like a slimy, green goblin, malnourished, frail, and barely clinging to life.
“Little owl,” he says, his voice raspy and thin. “You kept your promise.”
THIRTY-FOUR
I exit the cafe and walk over to Tammuz, who’s waiting for me on a bench opposite some swings underneath a maple tree. The autumn breeze whispers through leaves of crimson and gold.
As I’m sitting, bracing myself against the cold, bright day, wafts of coffee and honey-roasted nuts sweetening the air, Tammuz says, “And?” He’s nervous and fidgety.
“It takes a couple minutes,” I say, holding the pregnancy test in front of me.
He leans over to stare at the little screen.
I’m trying to be calm, but on the inside, I’m going crazy. A positive result would be a miracle—after all, I’ve been infertile for at least four thousand years—but I’m not sure it’s what I want. For a start, there’s all of that responsibility, not to mention the fact there’s a guy out there who wants this child (if there is one!) dead.
Pythia, who is deaf, mute, and blind, was driving the car that dropped everyone outside the fire exit last night. After the battle with Rebus, she was waiting to take Meta, Tammuz, Ashkai, and me back to the apartment. I don’t know how she was able to do it—let alone infiltrate my subconscious while I was tied up—but then again, nothing makes sense at the moment.
Echo and Bythos stayed behind to deal with the prisoners who had awakened from their Long Sleep. I imagine they’ll be there for a while.
A lot of our enemies died last night, but both Kaya and Rebus managed to escape. As soon as we got back to the warehouse apartment, I wanted to speak to Ashkai, but Meta wouldn’t let me, saying he needed to rest. Meanwhile, Tammuz was on my case. He wanted to know if I was really pregnant and if so, who the father was. That’s how we ended up sitting in this park staring at a pregnancy test, the two of us nervous as hell.
“Maybe it’s broken,” Tammuz says. “Have you got another one?” and right on cue, the result appears. There’s just one word: PREGNANT.
I’m overwhelmed by the most incredible feelings of joy and happiness mixed with fear, shock, and trepidation. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Shit,” Tammuz mutters. “You sure it’s mine?”
“It has to be. You’re the only person I’ve slept with in the last year.”
“What are the chances?”
“Don’t worry,” I say, placing a hand on his lap. “This is my responsibility. Nothing has to change for you.”
Tammuz looks at me as if I’m crazy. “What are you talking about? It’s my baby as much as yours. We’re in this together.”
I remove my hand. “I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
Staring off into space, he says, “I don’t know how I feel, to be honest. It’s just a lot to take in.”
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
He looks at me. “Petrified.”
“That makes two of us.”
“What if I let the kid down?” Tammuz says.
I reach out to touch him again. “You’re not your father.”
His eyes fill with tears. He says, “Let’s hope not.” Then he says, “There’s something you should know.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“I’ve got a . . . condition . . .”
“Are you sick?” I ask, remembering the pills he tried to hide when we first met and then again when we were having breakfast on Venice Beach.
“Sick in the head,” Tammuz says. “I’m schizophrenic, and I have it pretty bad. What if the kid gets it as well?”
“What do you mean pretty bad?”
“I hear voices. They tell me to do stuff. I was hoping ayahuasca would cure me, but if anything, things have been getting worse . . .”
I turn, bringing my right leg up onto the bench so that I’m looking straight at him, everything starting to fall into place. “When we were with Cato in the office at the meditation studio, you heard a voice, didn’t you?”
Tammuz nods.
“What did it say?”
Tammuz looks at the floor as if he’s embarrassed. “It told me to hurt him.” He’s looking back at me now. “I’m not crazy, though, I swear. I’ve never hurt anybody, and I never will. I take medication. It’s under control.”
I lean forward and give him a kiss. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” Smiling, I add, “Not so long ago, people who could hear voices were celebrated and honored. It meant the person was very spiritual and connected to the other side. Trust me, that is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Are you saying the voices are real?”
I nod. “Problem is, negative entities often attach themselves to gifted people such as you. But there are ways to get rid of them.”
“Thank god for that,” he says. “Cos there’s this one guy who’s a real dick.”
It gets me thinking about my own predicament, worrying we’re being targeted by the same destructive energy. It’s a being that has helped me many times now, but I’m under no illusions about what it is. My actions last night were fueled by pure hate. It was an incredible, all-consuming power, but enough is enough. I’m a good soul, and I won’t be manipulated anymore.
“Has he said anything about me?”
Tammuz nods.
“Tell me everything.”
“When I first saw you in Exeter, he was whispering in
my ear, telling me how important you were and how I couldn’t let you out of my sight.”
“Did he say why?”
“No, but after that, he wouldn’t shut up about you no matter how many pills I took. It gets weirder as well.”
“Don’t worry; nothing surprises me anymore.”
Tammuz nods. “Tell me about it. He kept saying I had to have sex with you . . . that we were meant to be together. It’s almost as if”—Tammuz points toward the pregnancy test on the bench—“he knew this was going to happen.”
I hear laughter and look toward it. A woman is picking a little boy up and putting him on one of the swings. For some reason, it makes me cry.
Tammuz reaches out a hand. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”
“Nothing,” I reply, standing.
Not for the first time, I feel like a pawn in a game of chess. Something is going on, something bigger than me, and I need to find out what it is.
“Where you going?” Tammuz asks.
“To see Ashkai.”
“But he’s resting.”
I look at the little boy on the swing again, my gaze lingering. “He’s been sleeping for twenty years. It’s time he woke up.”
THIRTY-FIVE
I march into the apartment and head straight for the bedroom.
Meta, who has just come out of there, positions herself in front of the door and raises a hand.
“Not now, Samsara.”
There is fire in my eyes. “Move.”
Meta looks me up and down. Maybe she’s trying to figure out if I’m going to have another one of my meltdowns.
“Okay,” she says, stepping aside. “Just go easy on him.”
I walk into the bedroom and close the door.
Ashkai is awake and sitting up. Because he has been washed and fed, he looks considerably better than he did last night. Even so, his dark skin is dry and cracked, and his afro hair, which hasn’t been cut for twenty years, is thick and matted.
There’s a scented candle burning on the bedside table, and the darkened room smells of chocolate and vanilla.
“Little owl,” he says, flashing a knowing, kind smile. “I imagine you have some questions.”
Ashkai was twenty-one when he was captured and is technically forty now. Even so, and it must be because he’s been in a deep coma for all that time, he’s only aged seven or eight years, on the outside at least. He’s skinny, though, and frail. I feel like I could snap him in half.
I lean forward and kiss him on the forehead. I’m not angry anymore; how could I be? Ashkai has shown me so much kindness, given me so much love, that all I want to do is throw my arms around him. But I resist the urge. Things have changed, and I have a feeling they will never be the same again.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, suppressing my instinct to be physically affectionate. “More than good.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Of course.”
“I can sense you are upset.”
“You lied to me.”
“That is true.”
“Why?”
He pats the bed.
Sitting next to him, I ask, “What’s going on, Master?”
Ashkai smiles. “When are you going to stop calling me that?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How this conversation goes.”
“I see you haven’t lost any of your fire,” he says. Then he adds, “I will do my best to answer your questions.”
“You better,” I say. “Let’s start with a simple one: who am I?”
Another smile. “A very special person.”
“You need to do better than that.”
He starts coughing. There’s water on the bedside table, so I help him drink.
“Thank you,” he says, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Do you recall what I told you at the museum here in New York? It was a few days before they found us.”
I nod, remembering the flashback I had while standing in front of those skeletons. “Yesterday, when I was there, it came back to me.”
“So you know that Earth is the last habitable refuge in the universe, as far as we know?”
“How can that be?” I ask. With everything else that’s been happening, I haven’t had a chance to consider this issue at all. “What about the other six planets?”
“They were destroyed.”
“By what?”
“Fear, negativity, suspicion, and hate.”
“You mean the Demiurge?”
Ashkai nods. “Our enemy grows more powerful and toxic with every day that passes, smothering all expressions of love and light, which, of course, strengthens it further.”
“That’s horrible and tragic,” I say, doing my best to stay focused on the questions I want answered. “And I’ll do anything I can to help, but what has it got to do with me?”
“Before each of the planets fell, a child was born, a child who was said to be the physical manifestation of pure evil.”
My hand goes to my stomach. Nausea washes over me.
Ashkai stares at me, his entire being emanating love and compassion but also regret.
“If certain prophecies are to be believed, your child will play a key role in bringing about the apocalypse here on Earth.”
“What prophecies?”
“Many thousands of years ago, the seven oracles were consulted. They all had the same prognostication.”
“What did they see?”
“They saw a girl, her face burning with a dark fire.”
My hand goes to the birthmark on my cheek.
“It was foreseen that she would conceive a child of great power and that the child would be born when the sky serpent returned to the planet of blood and fire.”
I think for a moment. “Mars?”
“A great civilization once flourished there, but unfortunately, over time, the Demiurge was able to exert its poisonous influence, corrupting everyone and everything. War ensued on an unprecedented scale and raged for hundreds of years.”
“So the people destroyed themselves?”
“In a way, yes, but not exactly; a comet the size of Manhattan struck the planet, after which nothing could survive, but people were too preoccupied with their own fear and hate to see it coming, let alone do anything about it.”
“I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”
“As is often the case with prophecies, there was some confusion about how to interpret it. You see the comet—or sky serpent—that wiped out all life on Mars was just one fragment in a stream of millions, a stream that passes through Mars’s orbit every 4320 years. Sometimes there is a collision; sometimes there isn’t. As a result, we knew what was going to happen; we just didn’t know when.”
“So what did you do?” I ask, noting the reoccurrence of that number.
“First we had to find the girl. It took a very long time, but that investigation led to you.”
I touch my cheek again. “Because of this mark on my face? Is that what you’re basing everything on?”
“No, there is something else.”
“What?”
“Your soul.”
“What about it?”
“It’s unique.”
“How?”
“In our purest form, each of us is a single flame of consciousness, one that has broken off from the great fire of all creation. But you are different.”
“In what way?”
“You carry two flames. One of them is dark.”
“That means I’m evil?”
Ashkai shakes his head. “That means you are different.”
“Different enough that you wanted to kill my baby. I remember what happened in that cave. I know what you did.”
“I’m so sorry, Samsara,” Ashkai says. He’s on the verge of tears. “I wanted to take you and your child alive, but Rebus felt he had no choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“At
that time you were being held by The Shadow. As you know, they work for and serve the Demiurge. If Solar and I had been killed, your child would have been raised by them.”
“It doesn’t make it right,” I say, processing this new and disturbing information, remembering the evil I felt in that cave. “Murder is murder.”
Ashkai lowers his head. “After that unfortunate incident, the Chamber of Infinites fell apart for a while.”
“Because of what Rebus did?”
He looks into my eyes. “Yes, and because others with influence agreed with him.”
“What did you want to do?”
“I wanted to meet the problem with love. As did Meta, but our people were afraid. We only had one planet left. If it was destroyed . . . well, nobody knew what that meant.”
“I take it you lost the argument?”
“You could say that,” Ashkai replies. “I was exiled.”
“What did you do next?”
“I found you and kept you hidden.”
“Why?”
“Meeting hate with hate can only lead to more hate. History has proven that.”
Ashkai pauses to cough, then says, “Meta pretended to change her mind and agreed with Rebus. Because she had friends with power and influence, he had little choice but to let her keep a seat in the Chamber.”
“I thought she was the leader of it?”
“She was, but Rebus declared a state of emergency. The Chamber voted, choosing him to carry the fight forward instead. Besides, leadership is traditionally rotated between Chamber elders, although it hasn’t been for a very long time.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me? You didn’t have to lie all these years.”
“Can you imagine how you would have felt knowing this? That you would give birth to a child who had the potential to destroy all life forever?”
As much as it pains me to admit it, his argument is undeniable. That knowledge would have crushed me.
“Fine, but why didn’t you tell me Meta was on our side? I thought she was the enemy.”
“By treating her as the enemy, we strengthened her position in the Chamber. The less you knew, the better.”