No Darker Fate

by John Corwin

  "Nobody mentioned a way to hop without a line of sight," Alexia said. "Thomas, my new mentor, told me it was vital to keep a vivid line of sight to my destination."

  David Young's spirit had wandered off at some point during the conversation. Alexia heard him coming back as his wails echoed off the buildings.

  "I was probably in this world at some point," Lucas said. "The meds told me I was DOA. The man who killed my parents hit me so hard that I died. I guess the only good thing about being converted into a Scion is that we'll never have to worry about coming here unless someone uses those stones on us."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Phillip didn't explain much to me, but I'm pretty sure Scions are immortal unless someone like me uses the stones on them."

  Alexia's heart dropped. "You're twenty-eight, right?"

  "How'd you know?"

  "FBI, remember?"

  "Ah, that's right."

  "I really hate to tell you this, but you're wrong about the stones."

  "My God, I just realized something," Lucas said. He grabbed Alexia by the shoulders and pointed her toward David Young's spirit. "If that's David Young, then who's in his body?"

  They backed away as the dead man trudged past them. He looked around, tears in his eyes. "Where did everyone go?" David stood at the club door. "Okay, I was here, then that guy rushed me from over there." He looked around and muttered to himself. After several minutes more of rationalizing, he started screaming for help at the top of his spiritual lungs before running away down the street.

  "When you stoned those people, it somehow allowed one of the spirits trapped here to enter the body."

  "Anyone who's been here a while would be completely insane. That would explain the ghouls' behavior."

  Alexia nodded. She took Lucas's hands and drew his eyes to hers. "Lucas, I don't want to tell you this, but you're wrong about one major thing. We're not immortal. We can die from major trauma."

  "Like our heads exploding or getting chopped off?"

  "Um, yeah. There's an even worse side effect to being an attuned Scion."

  His face paled and his hands trembled. "We die like everyone else?"

  "The lifespan of an executor is only thirty to forty years. I was told most drop dead around their thirty-fifth year."

  Lucas backed away, his face turning a shade of green. He stumbled and fell against the brick wall right under the silver infinity symbol. "Oh God." He heaved, but clamped his mouth shut to keep from throwing up.

  "I know this isn't the best time to say this, but please don't puke. We're going to need every ounce of fluid in our bodies to survive."

  He nodded and lowered his head. "I wonder what happens if we die here. Think we can see our own corpses?"

  "I really don't want to think about that."

  Lucas pounded his fist into the brick, cursed, and shook his injured hand. "This is useless. What's the point of it all?" He kicked the side of a nearby car, denting it. "Might as well sit down and die here since I'll be dead in a few years anyway."

  "Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself." Alexia put a hand on his shoulder. Despite everything, she felt the strangest affinity for him, almost like they were two old souls who'd known each other in a previous life.

  "I think I deserve to feel a little sorry for myself considering the hell I've been through."

  "In the meantime, why don't you explain how the birds directed you here. Have you asked your birdie friend how to reverse the process?" She pointed at the myna which had perched atop Club Dementia.

  "I've been trying to understand it. I saw this place so vividly and when you ran into me during the chase, I panicked and tried to hop."

  "Maybe this is where people go when they hop without line of sight."

  Lucas shook his head. "It's no accident that we ended up here." He seemed to find some reserve of determination still left in him and got up. "Let's try to open a scar."

  The familiar refrain from "Mary Had a Little Lamb" rose above the nearby rooftops. Alexia walked to the corner and looked down the street, Lucas by her side. The little blonde girl was skipping their way. Behind her was a group of other spirits, their eyes searching. They abruptly looked straight at Lucas, or at least the spot where he was standing. Alexia wasn't sure how the spirits' eyes functioned in their current state, but they seemed to look through Lucas.

  An old man was crossing the road in front of the girl. She skipped through him, merging and popping out on the other side. The man clutched himself. "Bessie? "Bessie?" His eyes honed in on Lucas's location.

  "On second thought, staying here might not be a good idea," Lucas said.

  Alexia backed away and felt agonizing cold shaft through her body. She screamed as needles of ice seemed to tear into her and drain her of energy. A strong hand jerked her and the sensation evaporated, leaving her weakened.

  "Grandma?" a voice said from a few feet away.

  Alexia looked up and realized she'd backed right into David Young's apparition. He turned toward her, his arms outstretched. "Grandma, help me, please. I think I'm dead. I think I'm dead."

  Lucas tugged at her. "Run!"

  The small horde of spirits rounded the corner. Some passed through David Young and their attention switched to Alexia's position. She spun and followed Lucas. The spirits never picked up their pace. Alexia had no doubt they could trace the two of them no matter where they went. Something about living flesh and spirits coming into contact had triggered this. She tried to summon her speed, but nothing she did enabled her to run any faster than a normal person. Lucas pounded ahead of her, his face red and sweaty.

  After a few minutes they stopped, bending over and gasping for breath. Alexia was in good shape, but Lucas clutched a stitch in his side. Not more than a few seconds later, the girl's singing caught up with them. They staggered onward. Fear lanced through Alexia like she'd never felt before, at least not since her close call with Maria Wood's ghoul. Death felt imminent. She couldn't catch her breath.

  "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said.

  Lucas looked at her. The corner of his mouth raised a fraction. "I don't blame you. Maybe I should have killed myself and then you wouldn't be stuck here with me."

  "Do you think those things can kill us?"

  He shuddered. "After feeling just one of them touch me, I don't doubt it. Then again, we might live but be too weak to run away. We'll be in agony until dehydration kills us."

  "I'm sorry I asked," she said with a grimace.

  He laughed. "I wonder."

  "About what?"

  "If we can't drink the water or eat the food here, how can we breathe the air? Wouldn't it be worthless too?"

  "Why did you have to bring that up now?"

  "I think the universe is having a really good laugh right now."

  Alexia looked at all the driverless cars sitting in the streets. It was like some giant choreographer was doing a stop motion film with the city as his stage. Every few seconds, cars would change positions, leap from one spot to another. Some objects did the same thing, like plastic bottles and other trash. She hadn't noticed that before, what with all the insane ghosts chasing them through the streets of a dead world.

  "This whole place is like an echo of what's happening in Normal," Lucas said. "It just updates slower."

  "I think you're right. I never thought of it that way."

  "The Blight works the same way."

  "What happens if we get caught in a spot where an object like a car appears?" The traffic had grown steadily heaver. She wondered if it was rush hour in Normal.

  Lucas winced. "Let's stay away from the streets."

  A few minutes later, they reached a major intersection packed with cars. Alexia looked up and down the street, but they had no option other than to cross. Shouts echoed from the way they'd come. The spirits were gaining with their insane little blonde leader skipping before them.

  "What happens if they walk in the street?" Alexia asked. "I haven't seen them p
ass through physical objects yet."

  Lucas was counting off seconds as he watched the packed intersection ahead. "The update intervals are random. It was almost thirty seconds one time and ten seconds the next."

  Alexia grabbed Lucas's shoulder and watched helplessly as the horde of spirits closed in.

  Chapter 30

  Mikhail received the news via his arbiter network minutes before Anne-Marie burst from the Blight to tell him.

  "Another executor is gone, Mikhail," she said, breathless and pale.

  "Ours or theirs?"

  "A Transcendist. The seeker accompanying her narrowly escaped. He claims four ghouls appeared from the Blight and grabbed her before either of them could react."

  Mikhail stepped onto the balcony and gazed at the grassy two-acre front yard of the Statist Atlanta compound. Despite the presence of so many Scions in one place, he felt insecure. The ghouls formed a pack that could strike anywhere, anytime. So far Andre had lost two executors. It wouldn't be long before Mikhail lost someone. He'd implemented the rule of four: two seekers, an executor, and an arbiter in every group. One seeker was to maintain constant vigilance by looking in the Blight. Whether that scheme would work remained to be seen.

  The goal, however, was not to avoid capture, but to incarcerate one of the ghouls. Their actions and plans showed how cunning they were. They apparently meant to convert more Scions to their cause and form if indeed they had such organization to their apparent madness.

  Anne-Marie joined Mikhail on the balcony. "Are you certain capturing one of these creatures is possible?"

  "They have advantage of surprise. Vigilance is key. Andre's group lacks discipline and training. His group is larger and makes easier target."

  "Greater numbers create weakness?"

  "Yes. His false concern for chum draws the tender hearts. The weak ones."

  "What do you really want with the ghouls?"

  "What you think?" Mikhail put his back to the railing and leaned against it. "The ghouls have many abilities like Lucas Fowler. Drawing them to our cause makes sense."

  "If they possess the sanity to understand and follow orders. Andre won't like it."

  "I will make him like it. Better yet, I will make him demand I deal with problem."

  "How will you manage that?"

  Mikhail sensed a prickle on his forehead, the arbiter equivalent of a knock. He held his hand up to Anne-Marie. "As expected, Andre wishes to talk about missing executor. Excuse me."

  He met Andre's transmission with his own, creating his favorite mindscape, a skyscraper roof. In the center of the roof stood a large oak upon a lush carpet of grass. Two black iron chairs and a matching table sat underneath. Andre appeared, glanced at the scenery, and took a seat across from Mikhail.

  "You know about Alice Dunnery?"

  "The missing executor."

  "Correct. Look, we've directed the task force to concentrate on finding the rogue arbiter but we need to go after these ghouls and finish them off. I don't have the manpower to do that."

  "You have more than I. What about Marissa and Thomas?"

  "They're on other duties right now."

  Mikhail already knew the cause of Andre's manpower drain. Andre wanted to find the rogues responsible for the ghouls and deal with them before Mikhail. He didn't want Mikhail to draft them into the Statist cause. "More people should search for rogues."

  Andre held up a hand, palm out. "Not necessary. The task force has things well in hand."

  "Are you certain? Perhaps if I devote more people—"

  "I think the ghouls should be a top priority. They're a danger to chum and Scion alike."

  "I do not wish to lose people to these ghouls."

  "That's why you have to hunt them in the first place. I've lost two executors already."

  "And now ghouls are likely five in number."

  "Do you expect to sit around your mansion all day doing nothing but protecting your own people? Or do you like what's happening?"

  "Of course not. But I have taken sensible precautions against ghouls."

  Andre's image flickered. "You can't play defense, damn it. We need proactive teams out there finding these things. Do I need to call for a full council to force action?"

  Mikhail raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "It would be stalemate. My people against yours."

  "There are people who would love to have your position. People in your organization who might lobby against your inaction."

  "No need to get testy, Grand Arbiter. I will discuss with my people and decide."

  "Soon, please."

  "You will have answer in an hour."

  Andre nodded and faded out. Mikhail walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at the city far below. The streets ran in precise grid fashion. The traffic moved evenly without jams. The people walked without comment to their jobs, to their homes. Attended to their errands. All were dressed in gray business suits, gray dresses, or gray work clothes. Beautiful order. Whenever Mikhail hosted a mental conference with Andre, he held it here. It made Andre uncomfortable to see complete order when his own world was chaos by comparison.

  Mikhail conjured a hand grenade, pulled the pin, and dropped it. It took several seconds to hit the ground. The explosion took out a cluster of people. The onlookers screamed. Cars squealed and skidded. People streamed away in all directions. Pure pandemonium. How incredibly easy it was to upset order with a tiny drop of chaos. He swept away the imaginary landscape and opened his eyes. Anne-Marie was sitting in a chair, staring out from the balcony. Mikhail touched her shoulder and smiled.

  She placed her hand over his. "How did it go?" she asked.

  Mikhail enjoyed the softness of her delicate hand for a moment before he stood. "Gather a team. It is ghoul hunting season."

  Chapter 31

  Tollee clawed at Martin's face until it was bloody and raw. His facial expression never changed even when her fingernails dug deep into his skin. When the Blight reverted his face back to its original condition, she renewed her assault. The exercise didn't make her feel any better. Martin had taken a cab back to his house after Tollee deserted him at the cemetery. As he sat by his favorite window puffing his favorite pipe, an occasional smile would drift across his face and he'd call her name.

  Somehow he knew she was watching him.

  "It's futile to hide in the Blight, child. You have to come out and eat sometime. I'll be waiting." He puffed his pipe again. "If you face me and apologize, I promise no harm will come to you."

  Tollee didn't believe it for an instant. He'd already messed up her mind and imprinted her with all sorts of crap she didn't know about. Martin was crazy and evil. She had to kill him. Had to. She reared back her fist and delivered a crushing blow to his nose. It snapped and blood erupted.

  Why could she brutalize him in the Blight without suffering a penalty? She'd savaged him from within plenty of times before and never fallen prey to the safety imprint he'd put in place. Maybe because she knew it wasn't really harming him. This was like a copy of Martin, not the real thing. Maybe he'd lied and no such imprint existed. Maybe he'd read her intentions all along and waited for her to make a move.

  She should be traveling as far from him as possible instead of wasting time here. Seeking out the faction members might be even wiser. Martin had mentioned Little Five Points while rambling about the Transcendists after the cemetery fiasco. She could start there. Martin looked tired. He had to be drained after tracking the Blight scars hundreds of miles across several states. She could slip out of the Blight, talk with faction members, and hope he didn't have the strength to find her.

  The trip from Martin's estate to Little Five didn't take long. During the Normal phase of each hop, she took a second to feel for Martin's probes. Either he was being very subtle, or he wasn't looking.

  Little Five Points was swarming with chum. Even in Normal, the attire most of the people wore would look hideous. It didn't take long to spot groups of glowing Scions moving about in
the sea of chum. How they tolerated such close proximity to the creatures was beyond Tollee. Watching the oddly-dressed slimy creatures shambling about, quivering, making their zombie-like noises roiled her stomach.

  She slipped through a herd of them, choking back her gag reflex when their gelatinous skin brushed against hers. A group of glowing Scions sat at a table outside a pizzeria. The chubby one in the group, his eyes dark, stared at Tollee as she approached. She held up an index finger, mouthed, "One sec," and slipped inside a clothes shop. Using an empty dressing room for cover, she exited the Blight. Anticipation and something resembling joy lifted her spirits. Real, attuned Scions waited outside. Finally she would meet her true peers. She paused for a moment and waited for the familiar static of Martin's probes. Her hands trembled and her mouth felt dry. Nothing happened. So far, so good.

  She stepped outside and joined the Scions.

  "I don't recognize you," said the man who'd spotted her, his tone friendly.

  "I'm an independent," Tollee said. "With all the commotion lately, I was thinking of rejoining a faction."

  A petite woman with short blond hair held out her hand. "I'm Lucinda. This is Vish and Greg."

  Vish was skinny, had black hair, dark brown skin, and looked East Indian. He was probably in his early twenties. Greg looked really old—at least in his mid-thirties if Tollee had to guess. His stomach hung a little over his belt and a mop of curly brown hair with a mind of its own topped his round face.

  "You seem pretty young to have been a faction member before," Vish said, a slight British curve to his words. He didn't have the typical Indian accent she'd expected and sounded nothing like the man who'd given her tech support for her smart phone once.

  "I've been attuned since I was ten."

  "Who's your arbiter?"

  "An old coot that I don't want to see anymore." Tollee tensed, almost expecting the thought of Martin to attract his attention. Exposed as she was in front of so many chum, she couldn't simply flit back to the Blight in an emergency. Not without getting into serious trouble.