No Darker Fate

by John Corwin

  "You and Martin have been looking for this place a long time. And Lucas wasn't your first attempt."

  A lopsided grin settled on Andre's face. "I've seen all I need to. Lucas, take us back."

  Lucas looked at Alexia then back at Andre. A sickening twist grew in his guts. He glanced up and down the streets. The ghouls were nearby. He could sense them even in this place. He cleared his head and focused on a Blight scar. Adjusting it had worked last time. Nothing appeared. Panic skittered down his spine. Opening a Blight scar wouldn't work here. Instead, he pictured a dark red scar in his mind. Still nothing. He thought back to his final moments here last time.

  "What's the problem?" Andre asked, his smug voice laced with a touch of fear.

  "The scar back to Normal is different." It was supposed to be black. He focused. Imagined a black scar. Felt the newly active part of his brain open up. The scar split the air like tar splashing against a wall.

  The others grabbed hold.

  The return trip was a nightmarish repeat of the first. One of the executors vomited the second they arrived in Normal. The world spun and heaved like a storm-tossed boat underneath Lucas. Shouts echoed. Screams split the air. He looked up in time to see three ghouls sprint toward them. In their disoriented state, the executors were no match. Andre's seeker grabbed him and hopped him out of danger. The ghouls snatched Lucas and Alexia in their manic grips and a noise like popcorn popping came before the lurch of a Blight hop.

  Time seemed to fast-forward. The nausea churning in Lucas's stomach finally went numb from sensory overload. After the first hop, the ghouls resorted to running in the Blight until they reached a familiar dome of bald rock. Stone Mountain. The ghouls stayed in the wooded areas around the lake at the base of the mountain and set Lucas and Alexia down.

  A cooler sat nearby. The female ghoul opened it and pointed to the vegetables inside. "Yours, Savior-Creator."

  Lucas's stomach growled. He inhaled the contents of the cooler. After it was nearly empty, he leaned back. It felt as though his mind had taken a complete break while eating. He'd almost forgotten the ghouls had rescued them. Or was it captured?

  The ghouls were wearing normal attire that looked right out of an Old Navy advertisement—jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. They looked more like a group of yuppies than maniacal killers. The black ghoul squatted and named each member of his group. "Strike," his finger indicated the female. "Hurt." The other male. "Agony." He pointed at his chest. "We need your help."

  Their clothes looked normal but their names were bizarre. "Help with what?"

  "We are sick. One died."

  "But there are still three of you."

  "We made a fourth. He died. We tried a fifth but she did not come back to us."

  He remembered the instant the ghouls and Martin had appeared and kidnapped him. There had been a fourth. The man they'd captured during his flight from the cemetery. Lucas's stomach knotted. All the world needed was more insanely strong lunatics tearing people apart.

  "We need to know how. We want to rescue more."

  "All of them," Strike said in a croon. "All."

  Lucas shook his head. "To do that you'd have to murder more people. You'd be sending them to the same fate."

  Strike's eyes flared. "You know how to save. You will save them, right?"

  Alexia moaned. Lucas walked to her and examined her broken finger.

  "It's healing crooked," she said.

  Lucas felt the break. Alexia's face paled. He pressed the bone into place.

  "Give me a strip of cloth," he told Agony as he took a firm twig off the ground.

  Agony reached inside a duffel bag and tore a strip from a shirt. Lucas pressed the twig against Alexia's finger and wrapped the cloth tight. She pressed her other hand to his cheek.

  "Thanks."

  Lucas took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. He felt incredibly bound to her. So connected, it frightened him. Over the years he'd lost the meaning of love. Lost all knowledge of caring for someone the way he now felt about her. He wondered how it could be possible in such a short time. And why now?

  She smiled. "I wonder the same thing."

  "How did you know what I was thinking?"

  "I wish I could tell you. I can use probes like arbiters, but I can't control them very well. I sense emotions like physical energy. That's how I found out about Andre's connection to Martin."

  "Something binds us together. I won't let them separate us again."

  A tear welled in her eye. "We might not have a choice. I saw something terrible in the future. Hundreds of people murdered. Converted to ghouls."

  "It is the plan," Strike said, singing the words. "The plan, the plan, the plan."

  "No, the plan is bad," Hurt said. "It just sends more to the dead place."

  Agony looked at the two of them. "We need to save more."

  Alexia stiffened. A pool of black engulfed her eyes. Her gaze grew distant. After a moment, she shook her head. A trickle of blood dropped from her nose. She pulled Lucas to her, whispered in his ear. "For God's sake, convince them it's wrong. Please. You might save the future."

  Chapter 46

  Tollee stood on the roof of the gymnasium, Jason by her side. Lucinda and Mikhail looked down at the knots of Scions gathered into groups on the wide green lawn below.

  "This is insane," Tollee said to Jason. "Chum are all over the place near Andre's compound. They'll see everything."

  "At least we're doing something."

  Lucinda raised a hand above her head. Tollee switched sight and saw a web of probes dart from Lucinda into the groups. One intersected Tollee.

  Meet at the staging area.

  An image flashed into Tollee's mind. Lucinda's mental directions continued. A countdown began. Reached zero. The groups Blight hopped, leaving Jason and Tollee alone.

  "I'm not going," Tollee said.

  "That's brave of you."

  "This isn't about bravery. It's about stupidity. I never asked for this."

  "But you're a direct cause of it."

  Tollee opened her mouth but couldn't think of a response. That seemed to be happening too much nowadays.

  "Don't you feel a little responsible?" Jason sighed. "I know you felt guilt. I could see that the day you were casing that poor woman. The one who's now an insane ghoul out there somewhere."

  Something stung Tollee's eyes. Tears. She turned away and buried her face in her hands. "I'm so stupid. So scared."

  Jason grabbed her arm, spun her around. "We're all stupid sometimes. We're all scared sometimes. That's what makes all of us, Normals and Scions alike, human."

  She pressed her face against his chest and sobbed. His arms closed around her. She felt safe. Secure. Cared for. It reminded her of the other time he'd hugged her. Maybe she could count on him. Maybe he'd be there for her in the future.

  "You're right." She looked up into his eyes.

  His hand brushed her cheek. Caressed her jaw line. His lips pressed to hers and a thrill fluttered through her. She shivered, but it was a good shiver. A really good one.

  "I'm proud of you."

  "You shouldn't be." She choked up. Took a deep breath. "All those dead people I'm responsible for."

  "You'll have to live with that burden."

  "You don't understand. It started a long time ago. Lucas wasn't the first tool Martin used."

  "I know."

  "Lucas's family is dead because of me."

  Jason's eyes grew distant. He shook his head. "We don't have time to discuss this now. We need to rejoin the others."

  She nodded and recalled Lucinda's directions. Tollee grabbed Jason's hand tight, stared at the horizon. They hopped into the unknown.

  * * * * *

  Andre laughed. He couldn't help it. Lucas's escape or imminent death by murderous ghouls didn't matter. He didn't need him anymore. He didn't need anyone. During Lucas's attempt to access the afterlife, Andre had probed him intimately. Lucas's scar-opening ability was different than
ordinary seekers. Everyone thought it was a switch, on or off. Partly true. Andre had studied hundreds of Scions over the years, constantly searching for what made them different from chum. Trying to determine what made one a seeker, another an executor, and yet another an arbiter. What made one an expert while another had only mediocre skills.

  Studying Lucas had been amazingly enlightening. The difference was patently obvious. Unfortunately, the switch that seemed to differentiate abilities was more like a series of switches, a maze of neurons with many possible configurations. Andre had never been able to see that before. But Lucas operated on a different level. He could control the quantum frequency as he opened a scar. That was how he could enter the afterlife. That was how he managed to Blight hop halfway across the country in one bound.

  No other seeker seemed capable of changing the frequency. Andre had tested Thomas the moment he returned to the compound and discovered that. But Andre's mind had been forged from another unique template long ago. Comparing his neuron patterns to Lucas's, only a few a missing links stood out. They were patently obvious now and easy to change, but he would need another arbiter to do it.

  He sent for Marissa.

  * * * * *

  "What you want is wrong," Lucas said. "Maybe there's a way we can save the spirits from the afterlife, but killing more people is not the way."

  "Wrong!" Strike smashed the base of a pine tree with her fist. The trunk splintered. "Nobody can be trapped. Nobody."

  "That's impossible. To bring anyone back means sending someone else in."

  Hurt sat on the ground. "We are wrong, Strike. The Savior-Creator is correct."

  "Wrong!" She smashed another tree. "Save them. Save them all."

  Lucas glanced at Alexia. It was hopeless. Rage and insanity consumed Strike's mind. He looked at Agony. Whatever he decided could be key. Strike usually obeyed his commands.

  "We can figure it out," Lucas said. "It'll take time, but there's a right way to do it."

  Strike flashed toward Lucas so fast, he almost missed her intent. He dodged. She plowed into a sapling and demolished it. She spun. Charged him. Fear bit into Lucas. The ghouls were incredibly strong. He braced for impact. Strike's clawed fingers raked toward his eyes. Despite her speed, Lucas saw it coming. She seemed slower than he remembered.

  His right hand caught her left wrist. He twisted, sidestepped. Whipped his arm and flung her crashing through the trees. Her body crunched against a thick oak and slid to the ground. She groaned and pushed herself up. Her eyes blazed with hatred.

  "You are not Savior-Creator. You are the betrayer."

  Agony placed himself in front of Lucas. "Strike, he is right. We can't kill any more. It is not saving when we are killing innocents."

  A piercing scream erupted from Strike. "My wife, my love is trapped there. You are betrayers. All of you." A massive scar split the air, shattering the trunk of the pine tree she'd hit. "You all deserve the final death." She vanished into the Blight. The tree toppled slowly away from them and thudded into the ground.

  "Strike is a man trapped in a female's body," Alexia said in amazement. "Maybe that explains why he—or she is so insane.

  Agony slumped. Tears poured from his eyes. "What have we done?"

  Lucas realized Agony and Hurt were starting to sound more and more normal. There might be hope for them. Strike had apparently hit her limit.

  "It's not your fault." Lucas placed a hand on Agony's shoulder. "You're getting better now. That's the important part."

  "I know. But I remember everything we have done. So many dead. For nothing. We sent them into Hell. We are demons."

  "There's nothing we can do for them. Not now."

  "What should we do?" Alexia asked. "Andre obviously plans to do something with the afterlife. I think he wants to bring back Scions with lost knowledge. Or maybe he wants his own army of ghouls."

  Lucas looked at the group. Two ghouls. Two Scions. They didn't stand a chance against Andre. It didn't matter. Time to end this.

  Alexia gasped. Her eyes blackened again. She put her hands in front of her, warding off some invisible attacker. Lucas rushed to her side and knelt. He gripped her hand.

  "What's wrong?"

  No answer.

  "Alexia?"

  No answer.

  Hurt and Agony crowded around. Lucas waved them off.

  Seconds passed like hours. Alexia's breathing quickened. Slowed. Her eyes came back into focus. She looked at Lucas, fear in her eyes.

  "It happened again."

  "What did?"

  "I saw what might happen."

  "Did we change it?"

  "Yes."

  He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

  "No. Now it's worse. A lot worse." She started to cry. "You're going to die."

  * * * * *

  Mikhail stood before the assembled Statists and sent instructions with his probes. Unlike the Transcendists, he had far more arbiters, fewer executors, and about the same number of seekers. More mind than muscle. Lucinda's group, amazingly enough, formed orderly clusters in the staging area. They would attack at four in the morning, several hours away.

  Attack might be too strong a term. Lucinda wanted to talk with Andre first. She'd ruin any chance of surprise. That left Mikhail with little choice but to conduct the real attack himself. There was only one goal: kill Andre.

  If Andre still had Lucas and Alexia, he may have turned them to his side. If that was the case, there would be no choice but to kill them as well. To do that, he would employ mundane methods. Sniper rifles. He'd convinced Lucinda to hold her talks with Andre outside for security and to keep him off balance.

  Just as Andre had his shock troops, Mikhail had a core of highly-trained soldiers. Seekers with their superb eyesight and senses made excellent snipers. Swain, though an executor, had advanced military training before Mikhail had attuned him. Mikhail sent out his final instructions and the assembled Statists left for their assignments. Doubts about his plan, however, came from an unexpected source.

  "Are you certain this won't turn everyone against you?" Anne-Marie placed her hand on Mikhail's shoulder. "This is unprecedented. If you do this, what's to stop others from breaking the rules? From assassinating you?" Her hand trembled.

  "It is only way, my dear."

  She glanced around at the few remaining Scions. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  Mikhail reached for it hesitantly. Brushed it away. "Why do you cry?"

  Her eyes peered into his. "Why don't you look and find out?"

  "I cannot."

  "You're afraid to."

  He nodded. "It is a healthy fear. We cannot allow some things to happen."

  "You're breaking the Covenant. You'll be a target. Hunted. This won't bring anything you hope for. You're willing to violate the Covenant, yet you won't break one simple personal rule."

  "My dear—"

  She pushed his hand away and turned her back to him. "Go ahead. Destroy the truce. Violate the Covenant. Become an outcast. Destroy everything good and noble I ever saw in you."

  Why did she do this to him? Doubt wormed into his heart and morphed into dread. Perhaps he was wrong. Her words hit him hard. Much harder than he would like her to know. This was why he'd never allowed—

  "You know I am right." Anne-Marie's gaze bored into his soul. She knew him too well. She could read him when even skilled arbiters could not.

  "Perhaps."

  "Mikhail, do what's right. If you don't, we will never see each other again. I will go away and never return. This I promise."

  The sudden prospect of life without her at his side cut into his heart. But Andre was too important a target. His plans might destroy everything. They might make the Covenant irrelevant. Worse, Andre might end up the supreme arbiter. Mikhail and his brethren would still be outcasts.

  "What about Andre? You know his plans will do far worse to Scions than what I plan."

  "Give Lucinda a chance. Can't you see she has the right idea? If
Andre does anything to harm her, then nobody will blame you for putting him down. But kill him before you give her a chance, and you'll be the monster."

  Mikhail let the thought brew. She was right. The correct course was so obvious, so simple he'd overlooked it. Let Andre make the first move. If he made the wrong move, finish it. Here he had thought young inexperienced Lucinda to be the stubborn stupid one while he, the might grand arbiter of the Statists, leapt into the bog without a stick to feel the safe way through. Anne-Marie had long been his conscience, his way to see things from another view and he had ignored her sensible counsel due to his own ignorant stubbornness.

  "You are, of course, correct. I will do as you say."

  Anne-Marie smiled and his heart lifted. She touched his hand, but only for a second. The way she did it, so different than usual, warmed him. It stimulated him and he felt his face burn like a schoolboy's. He cleared his throat and looked away.

  "I told the snipers to block their minds from arbiter contact for safety. To take the first opportune shot."

  "Send them a message. Override them."

  "They are blocking all contact. We'll have to go to each one so I can order them to stand down."

  "Where are they stationed?"

  Mikhail knew. But it would take time. Maybe too much time. He took Anne-Marie's hand and sent her the first coordinates. No time to waste.

  Chapter 47

  Dara hopped out of the old yellow station wagon her friends referred to as the Banana amidst a cloud of pot and cigarette smoke. She waved to her friends as they drove off. They were chum but she loved hanging with them. The way things had gone lately she was starting to doubt the moral superiority of Scions. Andre, someone she'd once almost worshipped, had turned out to be twisted and creepy, like the cool uncle who one day tried to touch you in your dirty place. Mikhail didn't seem much better. Lucinda, on the other hand, was a woman with ideals. A little blonde at times, but still kind of smart when it counted. Dara had given serious thought to joining up with Dara or simply staying with her chum friends until the entire mess blew over but felt she might be shirking responsibility.