She got up, blithely unaware of any consternation her last remark may have provoked.
“I must warn the rest. Baiyaan will be freed. I no longer abstain. I vote with Baiyaan, and with you, Seb.”
Seb tried to take in the enormity of what she was saying, and the speed in which this was all happening. Billy Joe—Baiyaan—had won. But the People had been lost.
Fypp walked to the table and rewrapped the Egg before picking it up. Demonstrating her uncanny ability to guess the direction of Seb’s thoughts, she took his hand and looked at him, her ancient eyes as unreadable as ever.
“Nothing is ever lost. The ‘I’ I believed to be ‘me’ has died, over and over again. A billion such deaths brought me here, but I am not the Fypp of even ten years ago. Physical death is the same, of course. Planets, solar systems, civilizations come and go, yet the universe does not gain, or lose, a single particle. Patterns emerge and disappear, and those of us who are bound—or who have chosen to be bound—by time, experience a sense of loss. The sense of loss is real, but the loss itself is an illusion.”
She released his hand.
“I am still not completely certain about what has happened here. I will confront the Gyeuk. Whatever its motives now, it has always been peaceable.”
Fypp walked out of the door. Seb turned to Mee and Joni. Mee stood up and pulled Joni to her feet.
“Come on, Jones,” she said. “Let’s see the alien off the premises. Then I’ll make you a sandwich.”
Outside, the moon was bright, and everything was cold and still.
“I’ll leave the route open,” said Fypp.
Seb shook his head. “I won’t use it. I’m staying here.”
Fypp gave him an unreadable look. “You might change your mind at some point in the next hundred years or so.”
She looked over at Mee and Joni in the cottage doorway, then back at Seb who was still shaking his head. She gave him one last trademark wink.
“I’ll be back to check out the mystical traditions again. I intended to stay around this time, but work calls.”
Without another word, she turned and stepped into nothingness, leaving the yard, Innisfarne, and the planet behind.
Unchapter 40
Mee spoke first. “Correct me if I’m wrong. We’re all probably living in a simulation, right? And within this simulation, other simulations are created.”
Seb nodded. He looked tired. Mee thought he looked almost as old as her. She suspected him of deliberately adding a wrinkle here, a laughter line there over the last couple of weeks, but she hadn’t confronted him about it. More accurately, she’d pretty much decided she wouldn’t confront him about it.
“Okay. So it’s equally likely that the so-called ‘reality’ above ours, the one in which this simulation—our universe—was created, is also a simulation. Right?”
“Right.”
Joni’s forehead creased as she tried to grasp the implications.
“So how many layers do you have to go up before you get to base reality?”
That’s my girl.
“Maybe you don’t. I mean maybe you can’t.” Seb was struggling to find the right words. Mee dived in.
“There’s a new theory in town about the start of the universe. A lot of physicists love it. There was no Big Bang at all. It’s all always been here.”
Joni groaned. “Brain hurts. Need coffee.”
Mee rubbed her back. “I don’t know. There’s something liberating about trying to grasp the ungraspable. And if the universe has always been here, why does there have to be a base reality? Why not infinite Eggs nested inside each other? It might help explain that ‘resetting the entire universe’ trick you do.”
Silence greeted this observation as the three of them breathed the cold air, heard the sound of snow creaking and birds and small animals foraging and hunting. No one had anything to say for a while.
“Shit in a slipper,” said Mee, “now my brain hurts, too.”
When the change came, Mee noticed it before anyone else did. She’d always been sensitive to atmospheric conditions. As a child, Mee’s announcement that it, “smelled like rain” was always followed by the whole family grabbing coats and umbrellas. On one memorable school trip in central London, Mee had been the butt of a few jokes when everyone apart from her had worn shorts and T-shirts. She hadn’t been able to prevent a smile spreading across her face when an almost cloudless sky suddenly unleashed a hailstorm. Mee had watched her classmates slipping, sliding and swearing as teachers and children alike scrambled for the coach. She had strolled slowly behind, warm and dry in her mac underneath her umbrella.
This was no hailstorm. This was something much, much bigger.
It was only a few minutes after Fypp had Walked. The huge moon still hung above them unperturbed, the snow lay deep and smooth, the only falling flakes floating from the branches of trees when a breath of wind lifted them. The scene was a picture postcard: the moon, a wispy cloud or two, a barn owl hunting among the trees, the crofter’s cottage, smoke curling from its brick chimney.
Mee sniffed. A storm, definitely. A big one. She sniffed again, and the sensation had doubled in intensity. Something was seriously wrong. No storm arrived this quickly.
Seb had stepped further into the yard in front of the cottage. As she watched him turn toward her, every hackle rose, every sense screamed danger.
Mee pulled Joni close to her and called to Seb.
“Come inside,” she said. “Quickly! Something’s wrong. Something’s—”
Seb heard the edge in her voice and started to move, when there was a sudden crackle of sound behind him, accompanied by a burst of purple-white light. The elm nearest the cottage burst briefly into flames. The burst of heat was so intense, Mee felt it like midday sunlight on her face. Her grip on Joni’s shoulder got tighter.
As quickly as the elm had caught fire, it burned out again, leaving a blackened, smoking husk.
Standing next to it was a witch. Mee rubbed her eyes disbelievingly, like a cartoon character doubting its own senses. Nope, she had been right the first time. Definitely a witch.
“It was a pity Baiyaan had to drag you into this,” said the witch. She even sounded like a witch, with a grating, rasping tone that had all the appeal of a fork scraped across a china plate. Lifting the hem of a long, dark green dress, she stepped down from the edge of the trees and into the yard.
Finally, Mee’s brain re-engaged, allowing her to put together what she was seeing in front of her now, with the story Seb had told them earlier. All the details matched. Long green dress, wooden staff, pointy hat, a face lined like a walnut with carrot shaped nose a snowman would be proud of.
“Kaani,” she and Joni whispered at the same time.
Seb turned toward the approaching figure.
“Kaani,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The witch laughed. No, it was definitely more of a cackle than a laugh. Mee wondered if it was okay to stereotype like this, or if she was being witchist. Then she realized she might be experiencing mild shock.
“Well, that’s one of the two key elements of a surprise attack,” said the witch. “Surprise!”
She cackled again. It really was a very unpleasant sound.
Seb stood his ground as the witch approached. She stopped about six feet in front of him.
“Attack?” he said. “Why would you attack me?”
“Nothing personal,” said the witch. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, try Baiyaan. He dares to suggest changing the way the universe is run, he claims to want so-called natural evolution, yet he can’t resist tinkering with a backward race like yours, making his own pet T’hn’uuth.”
Despite this insult to Seb, which would normally provoke an almost Pavlovian response from her, Mee’s mouth had gone dry. Her usual instinct to heckle had withered away. The storm she had sensed was still growing, and an almost primal sense of fear had locked her limbs. She had often wondered why rabbits
sometimes froze when danger was extremely close, now she knew. It was some kind of instinctual reaction to unavoidable peril. Her breaths were fast and shallow. She wanted to go to Seb, but she couldn’t move.
Seb was silent, but Mee recognized the determined look on his face. Her eyes flicked between her lover and the witch. Kaani was much older, surely much more powerful. How could he defend himself against that?
“We voted, Kaani. You agreed to honor that.”
Kaani smirked.
“Fypp has no honor. She plays her games and expects us to come when she whistles for us. She is so sure that she is the most powerful being in the universe, that lately, she has started to behave like a god. Yet, neither she or you even knew I was here. Perhaps this little god isn’t omniscient after all.”
“You have no Manna,” said Seb, simply. “What happened to you?”
“You’re as arrogant as she is. You cannot detect my Manna because the Gyeuk helped find a way to cloak it.”
Mee watched Seb’s face change as he pieced things together.
“You sabotaged the Egg. You killed the People.”
“They never existed,” said Kaani. “So how can they die?”
Mee noticed that Seb was doing the unconscious fist-clenching thing he did on the rare occasions when he got angry.
“I was supposed to die in there too, wasn’t I?”
Kaani nodded.
“Of course. Neat trick you pulled, but it only delayed the inevitable.”
“Why? Why work with the Gyeuk? Why betray your species?”
“Species?” Kaani’s cackling laugh had no humor in it. “The T’hn’uuth are not a species. Each one of us stands alone, Seb Varden. The Gyeuk needed an ally. Its technology and my power make for an unstoppable force.”
“Fypp might disagree.”
“Yes, I’m sure she would. But the Gyeuk and I altered her route home slightly. She’s trapped in an infinite loop of linked wormholes. She will Walk forever.”
Mee’s brain continued to provide ammunition that her body wouldn’t allow her to vocalize. About now, she was wondering why villains always felt the need to talk through their motivations, or actions, with their enemies. She had always thought it was down to bad scriptwriting in the movies, but now she wondered if, perhaps, it was due to some undeniable psychological imperative. Either way, it didn’t matter, as it seemed Kaani was now, demonstrably, done with talking.
The witch changed. It was as if she had vanished and been replaced with some kind of neon-purple, twisting rope, crackling with force, like an electric storm condensed to a column of power. Somehow, Mee knew that it wasn’t the witch’s form that had changed, it was her own perception of what was there. She watched, horrified, as a sparking tendril snaked out from the column and caught hold of Seb, lifting him from the ground.
As the tendril made contact with Seb, he screamed, and a wave of force lifted Joni and Mee, slamming them into the cottage wall behind them. Mee felt something snap in her back on impact with the bricks, and when they fell to the floor, a cold numbness spreading rapidly from her kidneys, reaching her arms and legs. She had landed in a sitting position. She found she could still move her head. She looked at Joni, who been wrenched out of her grasp and had landed in the doorway. There was blood on her face and in her hair. Her eyes were open, but she looked stunned.
Oh, God, Joni.
Mee heard a shout then and looked back into the yard. Seb was trying to fight back, she could see it in his eyes as he stared at the obscene creature that was trying to kill him. Mee blinked back tears as she saw the agony in his expression. She focused on his face, willing him to fight, to survive.
Another tendril shot out, then another and another. Seb’s entire body went rigid. There was an awful, unforgettable sound, only just audible among the sizzles, crackles, and explosions of raw electrical energy. It was a tearing sound, a sound made by flesh and bone put under unimaginable, and irresistible, duress.
It only lasted a few seconds. A few seconds which Mee doubted she had the mental strength to survive unscathed. She found herself unable to do anything other than watch.
Seb’s body was pulled in every direction, simultaneously, by unimaginable forces. For a moment, he still resembled a human being, albeit one drawn by an abstract artist, a vague shape hanging in space. Then, with a crack of energy that lit the sky for miles, even that was gone.
Mee felt an animal howl gathering at the very core of her being. As it rose, she wondered if she would ever be able to stop screaming, if she allowed it to emerge. Then it dried in her throat, as she became horribly aware that the creature that had just murdered the only man she’d ever loved, had now turned its attention to her and her daughter.
It was the witch, rather than the alien energy being, that walked toward the cottage. Mee forced herself to look at her, the pain, grief, and hate twisting her features.
The witch didn’t even glance at her. She was looking at Joni.
“No,” whispered Mee. It was, suddenly, the only sound she was capable of making. “No.”
Joni looked back. Her eyes looked more focused now. Mee willed her to wake up fully. To react.
Come on, Joni. Come on.
“Interesting,” said the witch. “What are you?” She put her head on one side. Mee knew she was using Manna to try to probe Joni. Then the witch shook her head, as if coming to a decision.
She raised a hand. Mee felt the energy begin to grow again.
“No,” she whispered.
Joni looked at the witch, a dark, determined fury in her eyes that made Mee proud.
Yes.
Joni reset.
Chapter 36
She was back in the Keep. It was the moment after her parents had kissed. Just after they had pretty much announced their wedding. That would explain why she was grinning.
Joni felt her face drop. She had just seen her mother’s back broken and her father killed by a rogue World Walker who was half witch, half rope-shaped lightning storm. It was impossible to conceal her emotions.
She saw her mum catch the expression on her face. She turned away quickly and walked across the room.
Mee wasn’t fooled.
“Jones. What’s wrong?”
Joni looked back over her shoulder with what she hoped was a convincing smile.
“Nothing. Just felt a little faint. Must be all the excitement. I’ll sit down for a minute.”
Joni saw Mee give Seb a look. She started toward Joni, a concerned look on her face.
“Mum.” Joni held up a hand. “I’m fine. Honestly. Just give a me a minute.”
As Mee hesitated, Joni sat down, angling her face slightly away from her, thinking fast. She was as scared as she’d ever been in her life. She’d used her ability to escape a psychopath, but in the end he’d caught up with her. If it hadn’t been for her father’s reappearance, she’d be dead. Now she had a few hours to work out how to stop someone, something more powerful even than Seb. And if she failed, everything was over. The family that had found itself after seventeen years would be ripped apart before it began. If she didn’t come up with a plan, if she didn’t get this right, they’d all die today.
Mee walked over. Joni stood up and started pacing in front of the fire.
“You just reset, didn’t you? What happened? I mean, what’s going to happen? Nothing good, right? Talk to me, Jones.”
Joni shook her head.
“You’re going to have to trust me.”
“You need to give me a little more than that. Last time you decided to sort something out on your own, you almost got killed by that psycho.”
Hearing her own fears confirmed was far from comforting. But there was something in what her mum had just said that sparked the beginnings of an idea.
“Mum…”
Mee spoke over her.
“Whatever it is, things are different now, Jones. Your dad is here. Trust me, if he can’t deal with it, no one can.”
Joni went even
whiter. Seb stood up too and went over to her.
“Please, Joni, let me help.”
She shook her head again, then smiled at him. Joni was pitching for a reassuring, airy, everything’s peachy, honestly smile, but from the expression on her parents’ faces, she’d missed it by a country mile. She held up her hand again.
“Right, the pair of you, just shut up for five minutes. Please. I have to think.”
Mee and Seb looked at each other. They shut up.
Joni knew Seb was completely outgunned by Kaani. If he faced her alone, he would die. Maybe the best thing would be to tell him, so they could all decide together what to do differently. The problem was, if they did anything differently, there was no predicting how events might play out. Right now, Joni knew where and when Kaani would appear, and how it was all going to go down. The witch was waiting to trap Fypp before attacking Seb. If Joni risked changing anything significantly, she might be the first to die. Then they were all—how would her mum put it?—deeply, and completely, fucked.
She took a couple of deep breaths. She knew what she was going to do. It meant taking the responsibility herself. It was a hell of a risk, but she couldn’t see any other way.
Joni turned to her parents. She didn’t bother with the fake smile.
“Dad, Mum. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Yes, I reset. Yes, there’s a problem. And I will tell you about it. But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Today, you’re going to have to trust me and not ask any more questions. Dad, you need to finish your story. But you’ll only be telling Mum. I heard it already.”
Seb took a moment to process this.
“Anyway,” said Joni, “it’s not over yet. Mum, you need to stay here and listen.”
They both looked at her, torn by the overwhelming urge to protect her, but knowing her unique ability to reset the multiverse meant she knew something they didn’t. If she could tell them, Mee knew she would.
Mee frowned. “Swear to me you’re not in danger.”
Joni didn’t hesitate. Lying to save someone’s life turned out to be relatively easy. “I’m not. I swear.”
The Unnamed Way (The World Walker Series Book 4) Page 24