by Sara Beaman
Remote Binding
When I get out of bed, Haruko is lying on the lounge, her eyes closed, her mouth hanging open slightly. Instinctively, for reasons I can’t articulate, I know she’s asleep. Not wanting to wake her, I step softly over to the door. I twist the knob slowly, trying to muffle the click, and slip out into the hallways, leaving the door ajar behind me.
Mnemosyne ordered me to bring Julian to the sepulcher, alone. No Wardens. But between Julian and me is a labyrinth, and I only have two cards: the one for the study, and the one for the seraglio. I guess I better hope that he’s in one of those places.
I start walking toward the study. One hallway terminates into another, and at the junction hangs a portrait of Richard. He’s wearing a stuffy-looking black jacket and a white shirt with an ascot. His brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail. His mouth is set in a smirk, and his eyes look directly into mine. Julian made him look hot. Annoyingly so. Hotter than I’d like to admit he is, even though it’s a fair likeness.
I hate him. Why couldn’t Mnemosyne have sent him to deal with Mirabel?
Oh, that’s right. She did. He failed. Still, why couldn’t she have sent anyone other than Adam? Come to think of it, I haven’t yet seen any of her other lieutenants—just me, Richard and Adam. What if we’re all she has?
No. That’s absurd. More likely, she’s running the House like a terrorist organization, with discrete cells. Although we do seem to have some pretty important assignments…
I leave Richard's portrait and walk the rest of the way to the study. It’s dark inside. I fumble along the wall for a lightswitch and eventually hit a whole bank of them. I flip them on one by one, and slowly the room fills with warm light.
“Hello?” I call.
No response.
I check behind each row of bookshelves as I make my way to the back of the room. Although I’m not sure why anyone would hide from me, the silence of the place seems ominous. What if Julian went ahead and killed himself? I could stumble across his corpse at any moment. And I’d be lucky if it was inanimate.
I push this thought down and continue back to the room with the drafting table, the place where Adam used to drink Julian’s blood. No one is inside. The amphora is still there, though, sitting at the center of the table. I lift the lid and peer inside. It’s empty, just like the rest of this place.
I sigh. If he’s not in the seraglio, I’m screwed.
On my way out of the study, I turn all the lights off and shut the door behind me. In the distance, somewhere deep in the twists and turns of the labyrinth, I hear human servants chatting with one another. I press a fist against my lips and force myself to ignore them. I’m not allowed to go around attacking people, I remind myself. It’s against the Sanguine Consensus. Against the code Julian saddled me with.
I follow the pull of the card to the seraglio, open the ornately-carved door and step inside. Deep in the recesses of the long, thin room, behind the hanging curtains and screens, I hear a single heartbeat. Then I hear Julian’s voice.
“Looking well as ever,” Julian says.
A man laughs lightly. “You seem troubled,” he says to Julian. I recognize his voice; it’s Alan, the man whose wrist I mangled.
“I had a rather tiring evening,” Julian says.
Although Alan’s heartbeat and breath are keeping my edge sharp, it’s pretty clear I should leave—I shouldn’t be listening in to this conversation. But outside are those humans, the ones I’m not allowed to have.
“What’s wrong?” Alan asks.
“My benefactor is here,” Julian says. “In the sepulcher.”
I frown. How does he know that?
“Your mother?” Alan asks. “Mnemosyne?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll avoid her as long as I can, I suppose,” says Julian, “but I fear meeting her face-to-face is an inevitability.”
“But you can resist her, can’t you? Resist what she tells you to do?”
“I’m afraid I cannot,” Julian says. “Not any longer.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve been sealed.”
“You mean by a Warden?”
“Yes. By Haruko.”
“Jesus,” Alan says.
“That’s not all,” Julian says. “I had another one of those dreams.”
“With Richard Stone?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Who can say?”
“Did he say anything?” Alan asks. “In the dream?”
“He warned me about Mnemosyne’s presence,” Julian says. “And I suppose he… gave me a warning.”
“A warning? What kind of warning?”
“Not to lose hope,” Julian says. “Not to despair.”
“Huh,” Alan says. “What do you think I meant by that?”
Julian takes a few moments to respond.
“I’m not sure,” he says.
“It’s funny,” Alan says. “From everything you’ve told me, it doesn’t seem like you remember him too fondly. But he’s nothing but kind to you in these dreams.”
“It is funny,” Julian says, sounding distant.
“Should I be jealous?” Alan asks.
Julian laughs.
Now I really shouldn’t be listening. Julian is going to be beyond pissed if he catches me lurking out here. Better to wait for him outside, even if the servants are still out there.
I slip out into the hallway, sit down by the entrance to the seraglio, and wait.
***
At least an hour passes. I spend the time looking at Julian’s paintings, forcing myself to think about anything other then Adam and Mirabel. Eventually Julian emerges from the seraglio, alone, wiping the corner of his mouth. He breathes in sharply as he notices me. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” I tell him.
He looks at me sidelong. “How did you know to find me here?”
“Lucky guess.”
“What do you want?”
“When night falls, I need you to come out to the sepulcher with me,” I Compel him. “I’m not asking.”
He recoils as I issue the command. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” he says, giving me a venomous glare.
“It’s not my decision,” I tell him.
“Well. We have an hour until sunset. What do you suggest we do until then?” he asks with forced enthusiasm.
I think about this carefully, knowing I have to make sure the Wardens don’t find us.
“Let’s go somewhere private,” I say. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“About what?” he asks, leading the way down the hall.
“Do you know a guy named Richard Stone?” I ask. “I saw his portrait on the wall, so…”
He frowns. “How do you know him?”
“He’s kind of my tutor.”
“Is that so,” Julian says.
“So you know him?” I ask.
“He was my protege, back when… back when I was in your position,” Julian says. “Tell me. You and Richard—you must be in contact regularly?”
“Yeah. More regularly than I’d like, honestly.”
“Has he told you anything about Aya?”
“No.”
“About Adam?”
I hesitate.
“Katherine,” Julian says.
“I’m not sure what I can tell you about that,” I say.
“Do you know where he is?”
My mouth falls open, but I don’t say anything. I want to tell him, but I’m afraid of what Mnemosyne will do to me if I talk. But maybe he can help. I know he’s sealed, but he’s got centuries of experience with this bullshit. And Mirabel is his daughter. If anyone would understand how to defeat her…
“Just hold on a second,” I say. “Where are we going?”
“The study,” he says.
“Let’s wait until we’re inside.”
He nods, and we walk
the rest of the way in silence. Once the doors of the study are closed and locked behind us, I let out a sigh and start talking.
“You have to promise me to keep this a secret,” I say.
“Very well…”
“I’m serious. If you want me to tell you where Adam is, I’m putting you under a Compulsion not to tell anyone else.”
“If you must.”
“Agreed?”
“Yes! Tell me.”
“He’s in Romania,” I say. “In Mnemosyne’s enclave. With Mirabel. Don’t tell anyone.”
Julian’s eyes go wide.
“Richard took him there and dumped him,” I continue.
“My God,” Julian says.
“They’re just going to leave him there,” I say. “And Mnemosyne wants me to forget about it, but I—I just can’t. Adam saved my life, and I…”
“Katherine, if what you tell me is true, and if Adam is with Mirabel—“
“It is true. I’m not lying.”
“If what you are saying is true, and Mirabel has Adam prisoner, I will do anything I can to free him. Anything in my power,” Julian says. “But, honestly, Katherine, in this state, what can I do? You do understand what Haruko did to me, don’t you?”
“I know. I get it.” I run a hand through my hair. “Can’t you at least help me come up with a plan? You know Mirabel.”
“I knew her decades ago,” Julian says. “I can’t say I know her any longer.”
“All right, fine. But you’ve been at this vampire shit for ages. There has to be something we can use against her. Aren’t there any… you know, secret techniques or anything? You know, like blood rituals or something?”
“Something that would have an appreciable effect against Mirabel? No.”
“How the hell did the Wardens keep her under control, then?”
Julian sighs. “I suppose there is one ‘secret technique’, if you must call it that—“
“There is?”
He nods. “But it won’t be possible unless we seek outside help.“
“Just tell me who I need to enlist,” I say. “I can be pretty fucking persuasive.”
“It won’t be as easy as compelling someone to do it. This is a Warden ritual,” he says. “They call it Remote Binding. It diminishes a revenant’s ability to manifest one or more of their strains.”
“Can’t we get Haruko or Jennifer to do it?”
“The ritual requires three Wardens,” Julian says, “and Jennifer… well…”
“Richard said she’s a blood ascetic,” I say.
“He told you that?” Julian shakes his head. “How does he…?”
“So it’s true?”
“Whether or not it’s true is irrelevant. As I said, we’d need three Wardens. And though I have many Warden friends who might be willing to help us under normal circumstances, after Red Hook, I’m not sure…” He gets quiet, and his eyes get a faraway look in them.
“What aren’t you sure about?” I ask.
“Who’s still alive,” he says.
“Well, would you count as a Warden for the sake of the ritual? You have Warding, don’t you?”
“Haruko would have to remove my seal,” he says, apprehensive. “And even if she did, I’m not confident I’d be able to contribute anything.”
“Well, for the sake of argument, let’s say we find someone else to help,” I say. “How does this ritual work?”
“Each Warden swallows the blood of a revenant with one or more of the same strains as the target,” he says. “Compulsion, for example. I’m not aware of the precise details of the ritual itself, but the end result is that it cuts off or weakens the target’s ability to use that strain.”
“All right, so I’ve got both Compulsion and Illusion,” I say. “Perfect. That’ll totally soften her up.“
Julian winces. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Katherine, but the potency of the blood—age, experience, refinement—matters quite a bit in this ritual,” he says. “The impact your young blood would have on someone like Mirabel would be negligible. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless they used your heartsblood,” he says.
“My heartsblood?” I wrinkle my nose. “You mean, like, the blood in my heart?”
“Yes.”
“So if they did that, I would, uh…”
“You would die.”
I let that information sink in for a few moments.
“But in that case, we could defeat her?” I ask.
“It might be possible, yes.”
I nod silently.
“You’d sacrifice yourself towards that end?” Julian says. “Just to save Adam’s life?”
“Not just for him,” I say.
Julian gives me an appraising look. I keep quiet and let him come to his own conclusions. Inside, I’m thinking of someone else I know with Compulsion and Illusion—someone with centuries of experience and long, flowing girl hair.
***
After night falls, Julian and I walk through the gardens of his estate, over the hills to the line of trees where the leaves shift and swirl. I run behind him through the forest maze, struggling to keep him in my sight through the split-second twists and hairpin turns. After a long, harrowing sprint, we reach the stone doors overgrown with vines.
“After you,” Julian says, gesturing to the door.
I force myself not to wince as I pull the door open, lacerating my fingers on the underside of the handle. The door is absurdly heavy; I grunt with the effort of opening it just enough to squeeze through. Once it’s open, I release the handle and slip inside, wiping my hand on my jeans. We make our way down the staircase to the dirt floor with the twin pools. Though I know she’s here, somewhere, Mnemosyne is nowhere to be seen. I glance back at Julian, catching him shudder. No—not shudder—shiver. He’s shaking.
“I’m sorry I had to bring you here,” I say.
He takes a breath and steadies himself. He says nothing.
I gaze into the shallow pool, down at the bottom of it. “I know this is forward of me,” I say to Julian, “but… your memories. The problematic ones.”
“How on Earth do you know about them?”
I don’t answer.
“Did Adam tell you?”
“Well… more or less.”
He shakes his head. “Exactly how much did he tell you?”
“A lot. These memories, though. Why don’t you erase them?” I stoop down, scoop up a bit of the water in my palm. It feels tingly, feather-light.
“Is she telling you to do this?” Julian asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Mnemosyne? No.” I let go of the water; it falls into the pool with a splash that sounds like the tinkling of tiny bells. “I’m just curious.”
Julian doesn’t respond. I stand up and scan the perimeter of the pit, looking for Mnemosyne, but she’s either invisible or absent.
“Well?” Julian asks. “What now?”
“Maybe she means for us to go down there,” I say, pointing to the stairs descending into the ground, into her underground labyrinth. As I say the words, I can sense that they’re correct.
“I won’t,” says Julian. “Not willingly.”
“I don’t want to force you…”
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t have a choice!”
He gives me a defiant stare.
“Fine.” I walk to the first step of the staircase. “Follow me,” I command.
I hear him obediently shuffling his feet behind me as I descend the stairs into the maze.
Loyalties
{Adam}
My blood is running thin, and my sense of time is slipping.
My conversation with Mirabel at the little cafe table must have ended some time ago. She got up, excused herself, said she had to make some calls. Since then I’ve been wandering around the illusion of the White City, alone, troubled by the feeling that I ought to be looking for something. I’ve forgotten what it is, or perhaps I never kn
ew.
It seems like it’s been dark out for quite a while now.
Staring into a canal, watching the reflections of lightbulbs flickering like fireflies on the surface of the water, I feel a jolt of mental clarity. I need a plan. Desperately. I need to lay out contingencies and scout an escape route.
I sit down on the white concrete to think, wishing for a piece of paper. In the distance, somewhere out of sight, an accordion plays a mournful song.
I feel I ought to be looking for something. I’ve forgotten what it is, or perhaps I never knew.
***
I am sitting across from Mirabel at a dinner table laid out with linens and candles and multiple types of utensils, nestled in a curtained-off nook next to a window looking out at the White City. In front of each of our empty plates are long-stemmed wine glasses. Mirabel pours red wine from a black-labeled bottle into my glass, then into hers. She gives me a smile so unabashed that for a moment I almost mistake her for Kate.
“How was your evening?” she asks.
I shrug.
“Mine was eventful,” she says.
“Eventful?”
“There was a raid on my corporate headquarters.”
She watches me carefully, gauging my reaction. Fortunately I don’t need to fake ignorance.
“Really,” I say.
She takes a sip of her wine. “It’s been handled.”
“Who did it?”
“A group of Wardens. A rather larger one.”
“Why’d the Wardens raid your building?”
She shrugs and brings her glass to her lips.
“I assumed they had their hands full right now,” I say.
Why the hell did I just say that?
“Really?” Mirabel asks. “Why?”
Why would I remind her of what happened in Red Hook? What’s wrong with me?
“Well, you know…”
“What do I know?”
I cough. “Desmond did kill a lot of their people.”
“‘Their’ people?” She tilts her head to the side. “Interesting. All this time I’ve assumed that little coterie you assembled a decade ago was part of Desmond’s faction. You’re involved with his sister, after all, aren’t you?”
She knows about Jennifer?
“If that’s not the case, who are you with, Adam?” she asks.