The door jangled open, and I let out a shriek I instantly muffled with my hands. The Nicollien who entered gave me a strange look. “You have to leave,” I said, overriding whatever he was going to say. “There’s going to be an invader attack here in…nine minutes…and it won’t be safe. Please, come back later, or tomorrow, or…” I felt a mad giggle building in my chest and pressed a hand against my throat to seal it in.
“A what?” The man looked confused, as well he should. “Shouldn’t we call someone?”
“We did. They’re on the way. But you need to leave.”
“Then why are you still here?” His confusion deepened.
The giggle escaped halfway, sounding like a strangled duck. “This is my Neutrality and I’m not going to be driven away from it,” I said.
“I can’t just leave you!”
“Then…you can wait on the corner for the teams to arrive. Stay away from the front door—away from the store front entirely.” Why wouldn’t this idiot just go? His presence, and his annoying questions, had me wound tighter than a violin string about to snap.
The Nicollien looked like he wanted to argue further, but backed away out the door, letting it swing shut behind him. The bells jingled again, a merry sound that made me want to scream.
Victor grabbed the folding chair from beside the door, dragged it across the room, and made me sit. The chair was freezing cold even now, in the heart of summer, and it made me shake harder. Victor put his arm around me. “They’ll get here,” he said.
I nodded. I’d clenched my jaw tight against the shaking and couldn’t have spoken even if I’d had something to say. All my attention was fixed on the door and the plate glass windows to either side of it. Cars drifted past, not going more than the speed limit, as was typical of this neighborhood. It was picturesque, and people tended to slow down to look at the stores and the trendy people. Judy was right; the two-lane road paralleling the store front wasn’t wide enough for a car to swerve into the front door at any speed. There was no way the invaders could break through the door. What a stupid plan.
I checked my phone once more. Six minutes. Where the hell were the Wardens? My husband? Anyone who might be able to stop this horrible thing from happening? I wanted to cry angry tears at how weak and helpless I felt, but I didn’t want to embarrass Victor, who was doing his best but was clearly afraid I’d burst into hysterics he couldn’t deal with.
I couldn’t help myself. “What else did you see?”
Victor shook his head. “Just the car, slammed into the doorway. And no, I don’t know how they manage it. The car, and the door broken into pieces on the floor, and the frame twisted so you can see bits of metal and glass embedded in it.”
I nodded. I’d seen the door trap installed, and that’s what it had looked like. It seemed so fragile now.
I didn’t want to look at my phone again, but I could feel the minutes slipping away. I remembered being in a car accident with Malcolm, how time had slowed so I saw every second of us sliding across the freeway. This was the opposite of that, this feeling that the seconds had shrunk to nothing, and at any moment I’d hear the squeal of wheels on pavement, speeding out of control…
Dark shapes hurried past the windows. Someone flung open the door. I sprang to my feet as a dozen men and women in fatigues poured through the doorway, spreading out to both sides. None of them carried drawn weapons, but they held themselves like experienced fighters, and it made my leaden heart feel feather-light.
Then Malcolm came through the door, dressed in the suit and tie he’d worn when he left the house that morning, and I sank back into my chair, all my joints suddenly too weak to support me. Malcolm came straight to my side and knelt, taking me in his arms. I clung to him and blinked away tears. I didn’t want to cry in front of the Wardens. “About time,” I sniffled.
“If I could have ward-stepped here, I would have,” Malcolm said. “We’ll take care of this. Go into the office.”
I shook my head. “I need to see this, or I’ll…it will stay in my nightmares for a long time.”
Malcolm hugged me once more, then stood. “Are you armed?” he asked Victor.
Victor patted his right thigh. “No knives. Just the gun.”
“That will be enough. Take a position on the left.” Malcolm put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll stay with you, love. Don’t worry.”
I nodded and clung to his hand. I felt weak and sick and embarrassed and angry all at once. Those bastards, thinking they had a right to our world and its magic. How many people had died, over the centuries, because of them? Not just the ones the invaders actually killed, but the ones whose deaths had been indirect, or at the hands of the Mercy? I felt a sudden hot rage flash over me, and with it, a desire to be someone capable of damaging them directly. Instead, all I could do was sit and tremble like some fainting maiden in one of the stupider fantasy stories.
A distant humming grew louder and deeper until it was obviously a car’s engine, one running hard and fast. I clutched Malcolm’s hand and saw he’d drawn his gun with his other hand. The noise grew and grew until it filled the air. Two people had stopped outside the window and were pointing up the street to the left. “Make them move!” I shouted, but they were already running, and I heard screams that were barely audible over the roar of the engine.
Then everything happened at once—the squeal of tires, the stink of exhaust and burning rubber, a blue flash of motion as a car sped past, impossibly spun, and accelerated into the front door. I screamed. The door blew inward, narrowly missing a couple of Wardens, and splintered chunks of it skidded across the pale cream linoleum toward me.
The hissing of a broken radiator filled the silence the impact had left. The car was an old Cadillac convertible, like something out of a ‘50s movie, probably made of solid steel and weighing more than a ton. Two women sat in the front seat, easily visible through the door thanks to no airbags and the roof being down. Neither of them looked even bruised.
They climbed out of the car without opening the doors and headed straight for the store, expressionless like Robert Patrick in Terminator 2. Without a word, the Wardens opened fire. The tremendous noise echoed through my skull, and I let go of Malcolm’s hand to cover my ears. I hoped some of those Wardens were paper magi, able to create powerful illusions to fool hearing as well as sight. If not, we would have a hard time covering it up—armed vigilantes shooting two innocent women? No, Malcolm would have made sure to bring paper magi.
The women jerked and thrashed as bullets found their mark dozens of times. One of them fell backward onto the hood of the car, while the other sank to her knees on the pavement. The shooting stopped, and four Wardens clambered through the empty doorway, drawing long steel knives. I gasped as one of the fallen women opened her mouth wider than should be humanly possible, and a sickly green thing began to emerge. Two of the Wardens bore down on her, stabbing the invader before it could leave its human suit fully. The others stood guard over the second woman, but she just sagged limply in death.
The screams had started again. Malcolm patted my shoulder and said, “I’ll be right back.” He walked toward the door and beckoned to the Wardens. I could barely see, past them, the four knife-wielding Wardens lifting the bodies and carrying them to the car. I breathed out in relief. The Wardens would make it look like the “women” had died in the crash, and everything would be all right.
Malcolm returned to my side and helped me stand. “It looks like people are calling 9-1-1,” he said, “and the police will be here shortly. I’m sending most of these Wardens away, to make it easier on the paper magi, but there will be guards for as long as they’re needed. Where is Judy?”
“I sent her away,” I said, “just in case…”
Malcolm put two fingers beneath my chin and raised my head so I had to meet his eyes. “Helena, you’re in shock,” he said. “Go upstairs and lie down. Judy won’t mind.”
“But I have to be in the store.”
“I will call the Board and
inform them that Abernathy’s will have to close for a few days while we repair the damage. You can’t be expected to work under those conditions.” Malcolm put his arm around me and steered me through the office and upstairs to Judy’s bedroom that had once been mine. “I’ll talk to the police on your behalf. We’ll tell them no one was in the store when the accident occurred.”
“Thanks.”
Malcolm kissed me, so sweetly, and said, “Try to rest. I’ll take you home as soon as things are settled here.”
I lay on the bed in the darkened bedroom after he was gone and stared at the ceiling. I’d stopped shaking, but it felt as if the shakes were hanging out just around the corner and might come back any second. That had been close. If Victor had ignored his vision, I would likely be dead now.
In all my preoccupation with wards and Diane’s horrible death and the fate of the Well’s custodian, I’d forgotten what that invader had told me one Christmas Eve day: all it would take to destroy Abernathy’s was one invader in a human suit walking through the door and abandoning its disguise. We’d need some other way of warding the store. I should warn the other custodians of the possibility. I didn’t know if that sort of destruction was enough for what the invaders wanted, but did that really matter?
What the invaders wanted. I didn’t know that either. No one did, unless Ms. Suzuhara had had a breakthrough. It did seem an unusually direct attack, though. Maybe that mattered. They hadn’t wanted me dead before—both the intelligent invaders I’d spoken to had been clear on not wanting me dead. How many times had I come close to death in the nearly three years since becoming Abernathy’s’ custodian? Ross Dunlop had held me at gunpoint…the giant invader had nearly killed me before I became the oracle, which also could have killed me…I’d been kidnapped and left to die in an abandoned warehouse… I realized I was shaking again, and tears leaked down my face. That had been in the space of only six months, and there had been more—so much more—
The door opened. “Helena?” Judy said. “Malcolm said you weren’t doing well. I told him that was an understatement. Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head, then nodded. “Judy,” I said in a shaking voice, “I think I need help.”
5
I sat propped up on pillows in my own wonderful bed and turned another page. I’d been trying to study my augury, but Old Tin Sorrows had turned out to be a fascinating story, and after a few chapters I’d decided to read the book through and leave analyzing it for later. Cyrus snuggled up beside me—apparently I would do if Malcolm wasn’t available—and I ran my fingers through his golden fur while he purred. His purr was so loud it sounded motorized.
The absent thought reminded me of the day’s events, of the sound of that car drawing ever closer to the store, and I set my book down gently on its face and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. I’d thought I was doing better. Malcolm had taken me home and drawn me a hot bath, and I’d soaked in a pleasantly mindless stupor until the water was cold and my hands were pruny. I’d had a bowl of soup, comforting even on this sweltering July day. And then I’d gone to bed early with my augury. It should have been perfect and relaxing, but my mind kept veering back to memories I never wanted to recall. Like the sight of those two “women” shot full of holes. I knew they were really invaders, but it had looked so real…
I picked up my book again and made myself read a few paragraphs before setting it aside. I should try to sleep. Things would look better in the morning. Maybe.
Malcolm came through the door and sat next to me. “Feeling better, love?”
“Yes. No. I hate feeling so fragile. It’s not like I was even injured. I should be stronger than this.”
“You are strong, Helena. But you’ve been under a lot of stress recently, and even the strongest person can snap if the pressure goes on long enough.” He took my hand. “I think you need to talk to someone.”
I sighed. “I know. I just don’t know how to go about it. It feels so strange, thinking about seeing a mental health professional.”
“I felt the same way the first time I saw a psychologist.”
My eyes widened. “When was this? What do you mean, the first time?”
He smiled and kissed the back of my hand. “You remember the woman I killed accidentally in sparring? I’d been a SEAL for years before that, had killed…I didn’t keep track, but more than a few of the enemy…but Roberta’s death shook me. It was right after my father’s death, when I’d come home to take up the family business and join a hunting team, and I started making mistakes in the field. Nobody died as a result, but that was pure luck. After that had gone on for three or four weeks, Tinsley pulled me aside and told me if I didn’t get my head straight, the team was sidelining me. I fought him on it—thought it was a stupid, weak thing to do, and I should be able to work my problems out myself—but in the end, I humbled myself and went to the Gunther Node.”
“And it worked?”
“Therapy isn’t a magic pill, but at least in my case, talking to someone helped me work out the guilt I felt over Roberta dying. And a professional might see something you haven’t considered.”
I nodded. “All right. Should I ask Lucia?”
“Call Pringle in the morning. She will forward your call to someone who can see you—possibly right away.”
“That seems fast.”
Malcolm chuckled. “There are things the Gunther Node will do for the custodian of Abernathy’s that they won’t for the average Warden.”
“I won’t let it go to my head.”
Malcolm hugged me. “I spoke with Ms. Duwelt and explained that it will take three days to repair the front door. She agreed that there was no point opening the store, though she suggested you might still go in for the mail-in auguries. Something about them piling up otherwise. I said I’d pass that along. And now I have, and I urge you to ignore them for a while.”
I laughed. “I think a few days’ rest might be good. It’s so hard to have the oracle keep hammering home the point that we’re both going to end.”
“Which is why you need professional help.” His hands strayed beneath my pajama top. “And other kinds of…help.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? And you think you can provide this…help?” I gasped as his hands moved north. “Ah…maybe you’re right.”
Malcolm kissed me, his lips lingering on mine. “But only if it’s what you want.”
I drew him down to lie beside me. “I can’t think of anything that would make me feel better than your hands on my—oh!”
“Then I think,” Malcolm said, “we should explore the possibilities.”
I woke briefly the next morning when Malcolm’s alarm went off at 6:30, rolled over, and sank back into blissful sleep. When I woke more fully an hour later, I felt clear-headed and more rested than I had in months. Knowing I didn’t have to face the oracle that day relieved my mind, leaving me with a familiar guilt over resenting the job I loved. I hadn’t realized until then how tightly wound I’d become thanks to the oracle’s constant reminders of our ending.
Malcolm was eating when I went downstairs, but got up when I entered the kitchen. “It’s all right, I just want cereal,” I said, taking a brightly colored box out of the pantry.
“All right, but you know I’m happy to fix you something.” Malcolm went back to his meal. “You should use this day to relax. Read, have a bath, watch a movie. I’ll make dinner.”
“You are so sweet.” I kissed his cheek. “I’ll call the Gunther Node once I’m showered and dressed.”
“Let me know how that goes. I think it will be good for you.”
“Me too.” I took a bite of crunchy sweet morsels in a variety of colors not occurring in nature. Though I remembered seeing pictures of morpho butterflies, an intense sapphire blue that burned the retina, and wondered if I was right about what Nature thought was appropriate.
Malcolm’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. He glanced at it, did a double take, and pushed his chair back. “Lu
cia says to turn on channel 2,” he told me.
I got up and followed him into the living room. He turned on the television and flicked through the display to select channel 2. A very intense-looking male newscaster I didn’t recognize—I never watched the morning news—was saying, “—more information as we receive it. Local sources say we’re looking at a fast-spreading disease and have begun evacuation of nearby towns. The similarities to the Berryton disaster cannot be disregarded. To repeat: at 3:15 Central European Time this morning, reports of a disaster in a village near Barga, Italy began appearing in Italian news channels and were soon confirmed by the Italian government. What we know is that the entire population of the village, nearly five thousand people, was killed by an unknown agent sometime between the hours of ten o’clock p.m. and midnight CET. Official reports suggest a fast-spreading disease rather than violence, but an unknown biological agent cannot be ruled out. No correlation between the disaster at Berryton and the events at Barga has been officially made, but—”
Malcolm muted the TV and turned to look at me. “The Cracchiolo Node is near Barga.”
“I know. Benedetto D’onofrio was just made its custodian at the Conference of Neutralities. Oh, Malcolm.”
“So they’re not just striking at named Neutralities.” Malcolm tossed the remote at the couch, where it bounced and slid under a pillow. “This is bad.”
“It’s like they’re tired of waiting for us to capitulate,” I said. “They’re going for total destruction.”
“Interesting observation.” Malcolm strode back to the kitchen and swept up his phone and his dishes. “Can I leave these for you?”
“I’m not an invalid, Malcolm, I can wash a few dishes.”
I followed him through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom and watched him dress. “Does this mean nowhere is safe?” I asked.
“I have no idea what it means. I’ve never been to the Cracchiolo Node and I don’t know what its defenses are—were—like. The invaders may still be choosing vulnerable targets. But if we were wrong about the invaders going after only the biggest nodes like the named Neutralities, we suddenly have an entire world of nodes to protect. And we don’t yet know what purpose the invaders have in total destruction. It might be a new threat to force the Wardens to capitulate.”
The Book of Destiny Page 5