Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by Taylor Leigh

  ‘It’s horrible,’ Molly muttered quietly.

  Tollin nodded. ‘I know,’ he said gently.

  The man rattled the cage bars of one of the freak’s enclosures. ‘Ah, the man with the strength of ten! Watch as he lifts what would crush mere mortals!’

  The man stood up from his stool, looking completely bored, and reached for a set of iron balls.

  ‘Ah,’ Tollin broke in, making the man pause. ‘Actually, as fascinating as I’m sure this will be, could we just cut to the end? We’re really here to see your newest acquisition.’

  The owner of the freak show looked a little startled but flashed a crooked smile. ‘Of course, sir. It’s your money. No doubt you want to see the best. If you would just follow me.’

  He started walking quickly down the tunnel. Tollin exchanged a glance with Molly, tossed a coin to the strong man, and then broke into a wary stride after the owner. They rounded a bend and came to a ratty curtain hung sloppily across the tunnel. From behind it came absolute silence.

  Molly didn’t like it here. She felt a strange, coiling fear begin to entwine itself round the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to know what was behind that curtain. There was something dark back there, something wrong.

  ‘Tollin?’ she stammered.

  ‘Behold,’ the owner said in a low growl, ‘from the far south, the most strange and horrible creature you can imagine. Neither beast nor man, a giant, and a prophesier or the future!’

  Tollin took a cautious step forward and reached a hand out to the curtain. He wrapped his fingers round its rough fabric and pulled it aside. Molly, fighting every step, following him into the darkness beyond.

  It was dark inside of the chamber and Molly had trouble distinguishing shapes from the smoky blackness.

  Then she heard it, the tinkling of chains. A deep growl broke from the stillness. ‘So, you have sought us out, Traveller.’

  Tollin reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small metal tube. He clicked it on and light filled the chamber. Molly blinked in surprise.

  ‘Electric torch,’ he explained.

  Molly’s eyes took a moment to adjust, and when they finally did, she wanted to go running back the way she’d come.

  Before them sat a cross-legged man, giant, with coppery skin and head bowed. He was shackled to the wall. Before him, burning gently, was an earthen bowl full of something yellow. Spores.

  Molly grabbed Tollin’s arm in alarm. He slowly sank to the floor, leaving her alone. She wrapped her arms round herself in fear.

  ‘How do you know my name?’ Tollin asked quietly.

  The Blaiden man lifted his head and Molly had to fight back a cry of fright. She had never seen such a horrible face. It was mutilated. His lips were black and his sharp teeth cut through them, trailing dried blood down his chin. His eyes were a dull, glazed yellow.

  ‘We know many things, especially about you.’

  Tollin raised his eyebrows. ‘Who are you?’

  The Blaiden man laughed darkly. ‘That question is beneath you, Traveller. You should already know.’

  Tollin swallowed heavily. ‘How did you come to be here on this world? How many of them are you?’

  Molly frowned at his form of questioning. What did he mean by ‘come to this world’?

  The Blaiden man laughed, a dark, nasty, almost inhuman laugh. ‘More than you can possibly imagine.’

  ‘What are you doing here? You’re the ones responsible for the spores, aren’t you? Get as many people addicted to them so that they’re easier to possess, is that it? That’s clever, I’ll admit. Working along with the Denizens all this time, aye? You’ve been living inside of them for years thanks to the spores, just now decided to come up with this little scheme to planet hop?’

  Molly suddenly was filled with a horrible feeling that the man Tollin was talking to was not all that he seemed. He was like a shell, a vessel, and whatever Tollin was speaking to was something inside, something hidden and wrong. She felt a nasty sickness start to pull at her. She didn’t want to be here with it. She couldn’t stop herself from whimpering with fear.

  ‘We do not do it for ourselves. We are unimportant.’

  Tollin scowled, regarding the Blaiden man—or whatever was inside of him—with hard scrutiny. ‘Now that’s no way for a Daemon to talk. You lot think you’re gods! You only work for yourselves. That’s how you’ve survived for so long. So tell me, what could be so powerful that it could somehow harness you for its own end?’

  ‘Our Creator.’

  Tollin shook his head. ‘No. That’s impossible. You are energy; you cannot be created. You simply exist.’

  ‘We obey.’

  Tollin groaned in frustration. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense! It’s not natural to your kind! What are you?’

  ‘You know—’

  Tollin held up a hand. ‘Yes, yes, okay! Right then, can you tell me what you want? What you are obeying, what does your…creator,’ he seemed to have trouble swallowing the word, ‘want?’

  ‘War is what we want.’

  Tollin shook his head, baffled. ‘But why, why would you want that? Why not just addict everyone to the spores? You want people to become complacent; you want to possess people, that’s how you survive. You need to feed off of human emotions! If war starts then people die. That is detrimental to your survival! How thick are you if I have to explain your own survival to you! It’s a bloody miracle you’ve survived this long!’

  ‘We are the foot-soldiers. We do as we’re told. Our survival does not matter. More of us will take our place.’

  ‘Who do you serve?’ Tollin shouted.

  The Blaiden man grinned, sharp teeth reminding Molly of a shark.

  ‘That, Traveller, is up to you to find out.’

  Molly watched in mute horror as a black fog started to cloud the Blaiden man’s eyes like smoke, turning them into two gaping holes, like coal. Tollin sprang to his feet, eyes wide. And then the man started to scream. A horrible, ear-splitting scream. Tollin clamped his hands over his ears with a roar, shouting something at the man that Molly couldn’t hear. His black eyes filled her with a primal terror. She could feel a great, crushing blackness clamping in on her, pulling at her with a wild hunger.

  And then the man lunged forward, snapping the chains taunt. His arms swept forward, straight for Molly.

  ‘Child of Light!’ he roared. ‘Last of your kind, give up now and save me the trouble of hunting you later!’

  ‘Molly, look out!’ Tollin barked, shoving Molly out of the way as the man strained against the chains.

  The rock wall behind him began to crack.

  ‘Oi!’ shouted the owner, ducking his head through the curtain. ‘What the hell are you doing in here—oh my—He’s gone radge!’

  The Blaiden man grew more frantic, screaming, frothing at the mouth, convulsing as if stuck in some horrible turn.

  ‘No!’ Tollin screamed as one of the chains clamped to the wall broke free. The man staggered forward, arm coming down hard, and Tollin caught it, struggling under the heavy weight of the man’s fist. He let out a horrible gasp. Molly could see sweat dripping off of his brow, dampening his hair. His arms wobbled.

  Then there was a blinding flash of golden light and both Tollin and the insane Blaiden man fell away from each other.

  Tollin groaned in pain. The Blaiden man didn’t move. Molly dashed over to her friend and helped him up, shaking so hard she could hardly manage. Her heart was stuck in her throat. Never in her life had she ever seen something so horrible. Tears welled up in her eyes. They fell and she was unable to stop them. She heard herself let out a hysterical sob.

  Tollin rubbed the back of his head. ‘Blimey!’ He stumbled over to the prone form of the Blaiden man.

  ‘Tollin, be careful,’ Molly sobbed.

  Tollin didn’t stop. He dropped down next to the man and rolled him over. ‘Whew!’

  Molly stared at the man. His eyes were no longer black. They held now a dull, glaze
d yellow sheen.

  ‘Don’t worry. He won’t be able to harm me. He’s dead.’

  ‘Dead!’ the owner cried. ‘But he was my star attraction!’

  ‘Quite. And by the looks of him, I’d say he’s been dead for about three days.’

  Molly groaned. She tasted bile at the back of her throat.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Probably explains why he was so easy for you to capture. You probably just found him ambling about on the outskirts of the city, didn’t you? Wonder how many more of them are out there, stumbling about in the trees.’

  Tollin stood, dusting himself off. He studied the man sternly. ‘If I were you, I’d shut this place down and stop messing with this stuff. If you have any sense at all, you’ll leave it alone.’ He cast his gaze over to Molly. She stared at him. He seemed in a new light to her now. He wasn’t just the happy, strange fellow she’d thought she knew. He was dangerous and dealt with horrible things she hadn’t even realised were possible.

  Tollin walked forward and took her hand. Molly desperately tried to stop herself from crying. She was ashamed of her behaviour. He wrapped his arm round her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispered gently into her hair. ‘It’s all over now. Come on, let’s get out of here and back to the light. I think you need some warm drink and comfort food in you.’

  Molly took a deep, shaky breath and rested her head against his shoulder. ‘I’d like that.’

  Tollin smiled gently and led her away from the dark room. Molly, on trembling legs, found herself wondering what exactly she’d gotten into by becoming Tollin’s friend.

  * * * * *

  Andrew lifted his head off of his pillow, blinking stupidly. It took him a second to realise he could actually move. Surprised, he brought a hand to his eyes and pressed on them, drained. He could see! Funny, the effects of the fit must have been temporary. For now. He had an inkling that he was going to have more of this new form of super-attacks in the future, and one of them he wouldn’t wake from. Ah, well. Until then, there were things to do.

  A soft, unfamiliar warmth next to Andrew caused him to glance down. Victoria was lying beside him, curled up in a ball, sound asleep. He found himself smiling at the sight, baffled. She must have stayed with him all night. No doubt people would talk about that if they found her here. That thought twisted his lips into a little more wicked grin.

  He sat up gingerly, so as not to disturb her, and glanced out the window. He could tell by the sun that it was already late morning. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept so late. Not that he had had any choice in the matter. It was probably the best sleep he’d get in the inn; by look of the sheets they hadn’t been cleaned in some time.

  The thought made his skin crawl and he almost leaped out of bed. He ripped his clothes off, tossed about for his bag of fresh garments—identical to the ones he just removed—and pulled them on, shuddering. No. He would not be getting much sleep during his stay in Flotsen, he was rather sure of that.

  Andrew cast one more look at Victoria, still sleeping soundly and gave her a rueful smile, then left her to sleep, deciding she needed it after the all-nighter she’d just had. With that, he trudged down the stairs, a classical tune starting in his throat, mind working on what he needed to accomplish for the day.

  * * * * *

  Victoria awoke, staring up at a cobweb on the wood-plank ceiling, feeling sore and exhausted. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and realised she was still wearing her sandy dress from the day before. It all came back to her as she realised she wasn’t in her room.

  Worry flooded into her and she cast about for Andrew. He wasn’t there. Victoria tried to remain calm. She told herself that she should be relieved by that, but the dark fears of the night before still clung to her. She’d been with Andrew for four months now and had helped him through a good many of his attacks. Never had she seen him have one like the one she’d seen last night. She’d been terrified, thinking, when she first saw him, he was dead, or dying. For all she knew, he could be now. Perhaps someone had taken him away. Victoria shook her head violently, sending her curls whipping. Of course that wasn’t the case. She was being silly. If something bad had happened to Andrew, someone would have woken her. No. He was fine. He’d simply dashed off on one of his private missions as he so often did.

  She forced herself to go back to her room and change before heading downstairs to see what had become of him. Luckily, no-one was in the hallway that recognised her. Coming out of Andrew’s room with yesterday’s clothes on wouldn’t sit too well with many, she was sure of that. Of course, Molly would notice but she didn’t have time to come up with a clever excuse.

  Victoria stopped herself as she walked past the washroom at the end of the hall. The door was open and by the sound of it, a bit of water was being sloshed about. Curious, she stuck her head inside the doorway. Andrew stood over the sink, water pouring full blast over his hands as he scrubbed at them furiously, so hard that Victoria worried for a moment he might draw blood. Water droplets covered the mirror and floor.

  ‘Hello,’ she said timidly, relief flooding her. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Mr. Bartus has a cold,’ he explained tightly by way of greeting.

  ‘Oh,’ Victoria watched him for a moment. She’d actually been wondering more about how he was feeling, but decided not to push the issue. Andrew may not have wanted to admit it, but he was sensitive about his attacks. It was a taboo subject and she’d learnt her lesson long ago. He finally seemed satisfied and shut off the water, shaking his hands dry peevishly.

  ‘All better?’ she asked.

  Andrew straightened stiffly. ‘Probably not. Honestly, the people around here! Might as well be living with pigs!’

  ‘What did he do that was so bad?’

  Andrew’s nose wrinkled. ‘He’s been coughing all morning.’

  Victoria fought down a smile. ‘Well, until you, I didn’t even know about germs.’

  Andrew smirked. ‘Why do you suppose I keep my distance?’

  She rolled her eyes and was surprised when Andrew suddenly took her by the shoulders turning her to face him, expression serious.

  ‘Victoria. About last night. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. Well, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. I appreciate it. But I would be grateful if you wouldn’t mention it to anyone.’ His eyes darted wildly in a fight for him to meet hers, something he’d always struggled with.

  She studied his countenance; she almost thought she could see worry behind his expressionless eyes as they fought to keep still. ‘Of course I’m there for you, Andrew, but this is getting serious and I’m not qualified to handle it! I’m just a spoiled palace brat! Don’t you think there’s someone here who might be able to help you? It’s a big city.’

  He shook his head tersely. ‘No. There’s nothing that can be done. You’re doing fine on your own.’ His gaze grew distant. ‘I will ask you to do one thing,’ he paused as he watched a man walk by them, ‘keep tabs on me. If another attack like that hits me, I’m in much greater danger. I could drown or…’ She saw something seem to break inside of him, as if for the first time he was realising what last night could mean for the rest of his life. ‘There’s just too many dangers.’ He finished curtly, cutting short whatever he’d seemed to have been fighting to say.

  ‘Of course, I’ll do my best to keep you out of harm.’

  He nodded, satisfied, then he turned swiftly and started walking down the stairs purposefully.

  ‘So, what’s on the agenda for today? There’s so much going on, I don’t even know where to start!’ she called after him. He didn’t turn round. She scowled in frustration. ‘What are we doing?’ She tromped after him.

  ‘A little investigative work, Victoria!’ Andrew cried, stepping down into the crowd.

  Victoria paused on the step and sighed, the smell of delicious fried food teasing her senses. ‘Of course,’ she said to herself. ‘What else would we do
in the middle of a festival like this?’

  Minutes later they were shouldering their way through the crowd towards the police headquarters, which was much more impressive than the log hewn guardhouse in Miol Mor. Andrew was doing his best to avoid contact with people as much as humanly possible. The dark scowl on his face worked as the perfect stranger repellent. Victoria did her best to apologise to every person he offended, reminding herself to not be so horrified over Andrew’s social skills.

  ‘So, what are we doing here?’ Victoria asked, once they reached the large building.

  ‘Think about it,’ Andrew said, stopping on the pavement. ‘Big crowd like this, people from all over. The spore problem can’t just be in our village and this is the perfect time to find out more about it. Flotsen is teeming with vice.

  ‘Keep your eyes open for clues, fights, tell-tale signs like yellowing eyes. First thing’s first, however; we’re going to talk to the police chief. I want to see if the violence in Flotsen has increased as well. See if they’ve found any evidence of spores; if they even know what they are!’

  Victoria wove her way through the tight crowd, all of which seemed to be heading the other way towards the sound of music. Andrew took a quick moment to compose himself, then pushed his way inside the building.

  The place was bustling with officers. He went striding down a polished hall till he stopped at a door marked “Police Chief”. Andrew shoved open the door, not bothering to close it behind him. The chief looked up, face darkening when he recognised who’d walked through the door to his office.

  ‘Ah, I see you’re still round. I’m chief Gabbins.’ He held out his hand for Andrew to shake. Andrew glanced down at the hand and wrinkled his nose, but did not take it.

  Victoria leant around him, embarrassed. ‘Excuse him. He’s a bit of a germ freak.’

  The chief dropped his hand and grunted. ‘Should have known you’d be one of those folks who buys into that Germ Theory the bigheads at Academia thought up.’

  Andrew still looked rather stiff. ‘It’s not a theory. Give me a microscope and I’ll prove it. No doubt someone like you is teeming with them,’ he quipped. ‘But that’s not what I’m here for. I want to know about the crime rate in this city, especially over the last few months.’