by CK Dawn
“Analyze the data you collected,” Lucienne told her team. “Ziyi, have you cracked the code to the Ghost House?”
“I have a few combinations for you to use,” Ziyi said.
“Good,” Lucienne said, heading out of the lab.
Vladimir followed her out. “I’m going with you.”
“I’m bringing only a physician with me. I’ll be back in no time.”
“If you feel it’s not convenient for me to go with you, at least take Kian.”
“Kian is heading for the Red Mansion,” Lucienne said, gazing up at Vladimir. “If you’re so worried, I’ll take Orlando.”
“And Duncan, too.”
“Fine, if you’ll behave here.”
“I’ll behave. I always do.”
“No more using anyone as a punching bag.”
“I’ll break no noses, that much I can promise,” he said, reaching out and tracing his callused thumb across Lucienne’s cheek.
Lucienne swallowed, feeling her evening gown shivering against her skin. Vladimir’s touch always had that effect on her. She fought her desperate need to throw her arms around his neck. She had to go now and once again leave him behind.
“And when you come back, I’ll cook dinner at my place,” Vladimir said. “I’ll make sure there are no surprises.”
Nineteen
Lucienne punched the first code onto the keypad in the door of the Ghost House. Faint electricity stunned her. Without missing a beat, she hit a second combination.
A whooshing sound, then the massive metal door glided open from the middle.
Carrying a small suitcase, Lucienne stepped toward the Ghost House. Orlando led the way and Duncan flanked the rear, but Lucienne stopped them both. “Wait outside,” she said. “I’ll bring only Dr. Wren with me.”
“Lucia,” Orlando started to protest.
“I won’t bring a soldier with me,” Lucienne said. “I need to do this as a peace gesture. I hurt the boy, and he knew it was me.” Over Orlando’s unhappy look, she coaxed, “I’ll be safe. I took down an assassin when I was eight, didn’t I? Are you going to question my skills now?”
Grunting disapprovingly, Orlando took Duncan’s radio and handed it to Dr. Wren. “Doctor, press the button if you see so much as a cockroach.” He then withdrew and positioned himself next to Duncan at the door, weapons drawn.
Lucienne continued on. Dr. Wren, carrying his medical bag, followed her gingerly.
Inside, the Ghost House was like an arena with arched cathedral ceilings. Lucienne took in the complex structure and its sophisticated machinery. She walked down a long aisle cluttered with pieces of discarded machines. So, this is what Ashburn claimed was his playground. She opted not to check out the odd hardware, instead going straight toward the dead zone in the center of the arena, her hand on the pistol under her white jacket. She had changed from her evening gown into a leather suit and a crimson scarf.
She was glad Dr. Wren wasn’t in a chatty mood for once. Her mind was still occupied with what Ashburn had revealed earlier. “I’m not the bloodline of the Exiles. My double helix isn’t superior!”
Who were the Exiles? There was no record about the race in any mythology. Was it possible that a third power had joined the game—or, perhaps even initiated the game?
That was a puzzle she couldn’t solve at the moment. But first things first—she would need a sample of Ashburn’s DNA. Dr. Wren had orders to get it for her when he examined Ashburn.
As Lucienne marched toward the center of the arena, a dot on her Eidolon indicated the zone drawing nearer. She turned left on a corridor lined by yet more machine junk. As she made the next left turn, her Eidolon went off- line.
That didn’t stop Lucienne. Having memorized the route Ashburn’s motorcycle took, Lucienne first turned right, then right again, then left, until she was blocked by a magnificent pillar. It was seven feet wide, stretching from ceiling to floor. It seemed to be made of ice, but when Lucienne touched it, it didn’t feel cold. Extricating her archaeological scanner from her expedition gear, she scanned the column.
“Material unknown,” the scanner read.
“Where’s the patient?” Dr. Wren asked, looking around.
Lucienne walked around the pillar and spotted a double-crescent moon carved in one side of the wall. Between the two moons was a perfect female face with silver eyes and silver hair. She looked human, except that she had pointed ears and a map of a star system Lucienne had never seen on her broad forehead.
“I believe the patient is inside the wall,” Lucienne said.
Dr. Wren blinked. “Would you mind calling him out? It seems unwise for us to try to get in, if that’s even possible.”
Lucienne pressed her thumb on the eye, but there was no response.
“Ashburn,” she called. “It’s Lucienne. I need to see you.”
No answer.
“Ashburn?” Lucienne put her scanner back in her gear bag, took out a laser gun, and fired at the pillar. Not even a puff of dust came from the lock.
“Isn’t that the laser Prince Vladimir said would cut anything?” Dr. Wren asked.
“It didn’t cut into this thing!” Lucienne stared at the lock. Then an idea came to her. Her Siren’s mark opened the crypt in Tibet. Maybe it could open the pillar, too. “Dr. Wren, please turn your back to me.”
The doctor obeyed without question.
Lucienne bent backward, pressing the Siren’s mark against the cold lock. When she didn’t feel a connection, she rose, pulled her pistol from the broad belt of her pants and, in frustration, shot the lock. It didn’t budge. Only Dr. Wren jumped and turned to see what was happening.
A loud hiss of air. Then, in front of their eyes, the lock transformed into a liquid interface and rose to the top of the pillar. A half transparent door moved aside.
Ashburn’s protector, with his nude torso and loose white sweatpants, appeared at the entryway of the open pillar. A soft glow from inside outlined him like one of the sculptured Greek gods with glowing bronze eyes. Only this god had long, greasy hair. “That’s not the way to break in, Lucienne Niahm Lam, descendent of one of the oldest bloodlines on Earth,” he said. “All you need is to ask and knock. Ashburn would never deny you.”
Lucienne’s face went white. No one knew her middle name. Not even Jed Lam. The name was given to her by the Siren’s mark in the ritual. Niamh—mythical princess of the land of promise—was the mother of the first Siren. And that was the name she used when communicating with her mark. How did this man know her best-kept secret? A chilly revulsion surged through Lucienne, sinking into the marrow of her bones. Her eyes grew murderously cold.
Dr. Wren widened his eyes. “This is the patient?” He shuddered. “He looks as good as he can get. Are you sure he needs a physical?”
Lucienne sharpened her sense and delved into the cryptic man’s mind. Her brown eyes went wild. The man’s consciousness was a black hole that swallowed light. Lucienne shivered and withdrew.
“Do I make you nervous, Siren?” the man asked, studying her.
“Do you take pleasure in making me nervous?” she asked back. An unsettling feeling warned her to walk away, but she wouldn’t leave without seeing Ashburn.
The man chuckled. “I take no pleasure in making a lady uncomfortable. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Lucienne dropped the pleasantries. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Why don’t you come to the Rabbit Hole and find out who I am? Allow me to be a good host,” the man said.
“That’s a bad idea, Lucia,” the doctor murmured beside her.
Lucienne remembered when Ashburn fell, his protector persuaded him to enter the Rabbit Hole. Ashburn must be inside. “The term ‘Rabbit Hole’ refers to a portal into a different world,” Lucienne said, “like in Alice in Wonderland.”
“It also means ‘boundless in the extremities of time, immeasurable in its capacity, perpetual in its own right.’” the man sa
id.
Who is this man? “Thank you for the invitation, but I came for Ashburn. Where is he?” Lucienne asked, putting her handgun back under her jacket while keeping a keen eye on her opponent. “I’ve brought my family doctor to help him if he’s hurt.”
“He’s resting down the Rabbit Hole.” He indicated down with his chin. “You’ve done him great damage, Lucienne Lam, using the Eye of Time to hunt him. Fortunately, we have this place—a sanctuary that nothing and no one can enter without an invitation.”
That was why the Dragonfly couldn’t spot it, Lucienne thought drily.
“You can’t just assume it was me who hurt him,” said Lucienne. “When he fell, I was nowhere near him. You, however, were around. And he seemed to be afraid of you.”
“I have no patience for games. You should leave then,” the man muttered a command, and the door moved back. Instinctively, Lucienne leapt and landed inside the pillar just before the door whooshed shut.
“Lucia, no!” Dr. Wren called after her, his panicked voice lost to the blackness.
Under her feet, the ground suddenly sank. Lucienne stumbled and fell at high speed. She muffled a scream as she heard the man’s chuckle.
A faint glow emerged overhead. With her heart still throbbing in her throat, Lucienne looked up. There were neither walls nor ceiling, just a void encompassing her. The light came from the floating liquid interface. Under the pale lighting, Lucienne saw the giant man towering at her right side. Her body tensed, an animal instinct on full alert inside her. She stepped left, putting distance between them.
No assault came. Lucienne relaxed a little, until she looked down. There was no ground beneath her feet. And yet, this nothingness was solid enough to support her.
“How deep is this Rabbit Hole?” she asked in awe.
The descent stopped abruptly.
“We’ve arrived,” announced the man.
“But there’s no ground,” said Lucienne.
“You just can’t see it.” The giant reached to grab Lucienne’s wrist. She was taken aback, but her surprise didn’t affect her reflexes. She chopped down his hand before it could touch her. Also amazingly fast, the man stepped back, holding his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “My apologies, Siren. I was trying to help you off the platform.” Chortling, he stepped off the invisible elevator and walked around in endless space.
Holding her breath, Lucienne stepped forward. It felt as if she descended a staircase that wasn’t there. She moved forward, and the hollowness extended. Her eyes couldn’t see ground, yet she stood on it. The place was dark like space, yet she could see the giant standing several feet away, watching her. The laws of physics were at odds with her perception of reality in this realm.
“No signal can reach here, and nothing goes out,” he said. “Here, Ashburn can have the golden silence in his head. Only here is he not subjected to billions of strangers’ memories. This is his escape. The Rabbit Hole was built for him a million years ago.”
“Before he was born?” Lucienne raised an eyebrow in skepticism.
“We knew he was coming,” he said. “Haven’t you read the inscription in the scrolls?”
“Don’t you know I don’t have the last scroll, Mr. Know-It-All?” Lucienne said, suspecting he must also know one-third of the first scroll remained undecipherable without the third to cross-reference.
“It could be right under your nose.”
“More specifically?”
“You’ll have to figure it out yourself, Siren. Aren’t you a pro at solving puzzles? Almost as good as Niahm?” The man laughed, but there was no warmth or humor in it.
Lucienne felt the chill again at the man’s menace when he hissed Niahm’s name.
“The Eye of Time was never meant for you. You Sirens have always believed that you’re the chosen ones of the Earth, but you’re just pawns. Does it sting to see reality as it really is?”
The man had just confirmed her suspicion—there was a third power at play. Warnings from her mark flared inside Lucienne. This stranger could be more dangerous than she thought, and she was in the enemy’s lair, unable to call for backup. Lucienne darted her eyes around, looking for Ashburn while stalking the man. “Then how do you fit into this grand design?”
“I’m here to put an end to the game. My job is to take out the other equations, but keep the one true bloodline safe.”
He meant to kill her, Lucienne realized. Her hand moved to the whip coiled around her wrist, her body in battle mode.
“You’re more lethal than I realized, but Ashburn can’t see that,” the man said. “He’s quite taken with you, just as the TimeDust intended. When he flew to see you, just to see where you live, I had already known he would never fight you. I’ll have to clean up for him.”
“If you’re so hell bent on killing me,” Lucienne said, “at least let me know who you are.” She drew back a few more steps and swept her gaze over the unnerving infiniteness. Is Ashburn in a secret invisible room in this deep hole?
“I’m as ancient as Niamh, the first of your line. You’re her atom split,” the man said, approaching Lucienne with menacing light dancing in his obsidian eyes.
“Ashburn?” Lucienne called, then louder. “Ashburn!”
“He can’t hear you.” The man continued his advance on Lucienne.
Measuring the giant’s size and his bulged muscles on his bare torso, Lucienne changed her mind about deploying her whip. She pulled out her Armatix handgun and trained it on the man. “Mister, I prefer you stay where you are,” she said, cocking the weapon. “One step closer, and I’ll shoot. I never miss.”
The man pounced, and Lucienne squeezed the trigger.
The bullet bounced off his bare chest. He grabbed Lucienne as if she were a rag doll and tossed her into the air. Lucienne snapped her whip, but there was nothing in the void to anchor it. She flew backwards and smashed onto the unseen ground. The force knocked the air out of her lungs. Her handgun fell from her hand.
Struggling to inhale, Lucienne raised her head to look for her gun, but the man was already advancing toward her with purposeful steps, cornering his prey. He leapt into the air to stomp on her.
Lucienne rolled, a second pistol already in her hand. “Take this!” Still lying on the ground, she lifted her torso and fired. The bullet hit the man’s left eye.
Again, it didn’t penetrate his flesh but dropped to the ground, like a small rock sinking into the sea in silence.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Lucienne cursed. “Damn robot!”
“Wrong again, little Siren. I’m more advanced than any robot or human.”
With a snarl, Lucienne slashed her whip toward the giant. It wrapped tight around his thick neck. Lucienne yanked the whip, intending to break his neck, but he grabbed the whip and hauled, pulling her toward him.
Lucienne reacted faster than her twisted whip. As she flew toward her enemy, she yanked a combat knife from her boot and plunged the blade into his heart.
The hilt of the combat knife vibrated violently as the blade bent against the man’s chest. Crying out in pain, Lucienne let go. Her palm was bleeding from the impact.
Fear floated in Lucienne’s eyes, and the man saw it, reacting with a cold smile. Her heart pounding against her aching ribcage, Lucienne recited Kian’s teaching silently, Fear isn’t my master. I master fear. Then a rush of adrenaline swelled in her. Her fear was replaced by fury.
An arm thicker than her leg threw a punch. Lucienne bent backward and dodged the blow. She whirled around and jumped in the air, striking a death point on the man’s chest with a booted foot. He staggered back a few feet. Meridian acupoints didn’t work on him either. Lucienne swept a second knife in a powerful arc and slashed across the giant’s throat, hoping that would be his weak spot.
The sharp blade didn’t even scratch his skin. The man elbowed Lucienne before the blade left his throat. Lucienne managed to duck. The brutal force missed her head but hit her between her shoulder and her heart. It
was like being rammed by a hurtling train. Lucienne flew backward.
She heard a sickening sound of bones cracking and tissues tearing as she collided with the ground. A wave of heat surged through her throat. A fountain of blood spurted out of her mouth, spilling onto her white leather coat and the man’s bare chest and pants.
With a satisfied expression, the man bent to study Lucienne. “The last female Siren is no longer powerful but a whimpering mouse caught in a death trap,” he said. “I’ll not allow you to be Ashburn Fury’s downfall. When I end you, the line dies with you.”
“The Lam’s line . . . has endured tens of thousands of . . . years. I’m only a drop . . . in the ocean,” Lucienne said with effort. “Even you . . . can’t drain the . . . ocean.”
The man tried to rub Lucienne’s blood off his pants, but only smeared the stain wider. “The rest of them don’t matter. Only you carry the lethal gene. Niamh’s blood flows in you. I failed to stop her, but I won’t fail this time. Blame yourself for being born in the wrong century.”
“Why is it . . . the wrong . . . ?” Lucienne forced her question out. Every breath hurt, but she needed to get as much information from this lunatic as she could, and in the meantime, stall him. She knew her men must be trying to get into this pit right now. Even if they failed—most likely they would—she might still find a way out if she could buy more time.
“You were born into the same generation as Ashburn Fury, the Destined One,” the man answered.
“Why is he . . . so special? Is . . . it because of his . . . genetic code? Are you his . . . biological father?”
The man smiled with white teeth. It was stunning, but no human smiled like that, at least not a good human. “Sorry, I’d love to keep chatting but I must hurry. Ashburn will get down here any minute.” He plunged his mighty fist toward Lucienne’s skull. She rolled out of its way at the last second. His fist slammed hard into the ground but made no sound.