D'Arc

by Robert Repino

  “I guess the expedition is called off,” D’Arc said. “We’ll never meet that jaguar who speaks Brazilian.”

  “Brazilian’s not a language.” They grudgingly laughed.

  Falkirk took a long breath. “They accepted your application,” he said.

  Only a few hours earlier these words would have made her swoon. They rang hollow in the stale air. “When did you find out?”

  “A few days ago. I have a friend in Tranquility who knows about these things.”

  When she asked him why he waited so long to tell her, he lowered his head.

  “Because there’s more,” he said. “After I helped you apply—after hearing you talk about it so much—I decided to put in a request of my own.”

  “You’re going? That’s great! We could—”

  She stopped talking when he looked at her. “I’m not going. They rejected me.”

  “But you’re more qualified than I am.”

  “That’s the problem. They need me here. And that was before all this.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why they picked me.”

  “You’re an expert on Alphas, as well as the other mutations we’ve encountered. And you definitely had the best recommendation letters.”

  “Did you write one?”

  “Of course. So did the chief. She thinks you’d be safer out there anyway.”

  The vehicle rocked a little in the current.

  “I was waiting for the right time to tell you,” he said. “I had this crazy idea that I would take you to communion, and you’d see how wonderful and peaceful it was, and then you’d be ready to hear what I had to say.”

  His hands wrapped around hers at the base of the hilt. She did not realize how cold she was until the warmth from his palms loosened her knuckles.

  “There was a prophecy about you,” Falkirk said. “And we didn’t have to wait forever for it to be fulfilled. You, and Michael, and Mort(e)—you proved that it was all true.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “I know. I’m not trying to convert you. I just want to say that the prophecy isn’t the end of the story. It doesn’t have to be.”

  He squeezed her hands.

  “I’ve told you about some of the mistakes I’ve made. I abandoned one family. Couldn’t save another. Got kicked off the Vesuvius. I’ve been lost. And the question I’ve been asking is, how will I know when this penance is over, and I can go on with my life?

  “You’re the answer to that question,” he said.

  “Why are you pinning this on me?”

  “I’m not. I’m not asking you to do anything. I know you were with Mort(e)—”

  “I was never with Mort(e). Not like that.”

  Falkirk shifted in his seat. “You’ve never . . .”

  One of the walls she had built inside her began to crack, and the cold fluids it held at bay seeped into her heart, into her gut. She turned away from him and let the feeling of helplessness wash over her. “We tried,” she finally said. “I mean, he tried. For me. But it’s not like that. It can’t be like that. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “The bond we have is . . . more than that. And less. It’s not his fault. But it doesn’t really matter whose fault it is.”

  She remembered that one time, during a hike near the beaver city, when Mort(e) told her that he imagined them growing old together. He would most likely die first, and she would stand at his side as he expired. She would read to him from one of her books about the sea, or one of her favorite adventure stories, so he could hear her voice as he left. Then she would spread his ashes in the Alpha pen, in the forest, and in the river. She did not ask him who would spread her ashes.

  “Let me start over,” Falkirk said. “I thought about asking you to stay here. I want you to stay. But I know who you are now. Who you really are. You should go. Don’t let anyone else hold you back. Not even me. Go before it’s too late.”

  He pulled his hands free. A chill closed in around her. She inched toward Falkirk, placing a numb hand on his shoulder and easing it along his collarbone. Her other arm, still holding the sword, slinked around his waist, the wet fur mingling, trapping what little warmth remained. Falkirk pulled her into his chest, so that their cheeks rested against one another. Their breath sounded like the ocean waves in her dreams. Under the water, their cramped legs intertwined, and the pads of their feet pressed together. Her shivering eased.

  “I want to stay,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I won’t let you.”

  “But what about you? I thought you said your penance would be over someday.”

  “Maybe it’s not supposed to end.”

  The silence returned. She sank deeper into his fur until his heartbeat thumped in her skull. Despite the water paralyzing her, she felt the heat from his body soothing her muscles, unclenching her jaw. She rose to her feet suddenly. A few drops trickled from her fur. Falkirk stood so quickly that his head bumped the ceiling. With a grunt he dug his claws into her hips and turned her around. He brushed her tail aside, pressed against her back, and then suddenly all the warmth in this tiny space, all the warmth in the world, bloomed inside of her, spreading outward so rapidly that she thought she would see it leaving her as her jaw dropped open. The hilt of the sword, still firm in her grip, tapped against the armrest with each movement. The husky bit into her neck. D’Arc’s face brushed the seat hanging next to her. She caught the seat belt in her teeth. Falkirk finished suddenly, his fangs grinding together so hard she thought they would crack. The two bodies sank into the water, the chill bringing a relief this time. She spun around once more and embraced him, settling into the same position they were in before, like nothing happened.

  D’Arc rested, unsure if she was asleep or awake. The hours crept by. Falkirk mumbled in his dreams.

  The sound of his heartbeat became stronger and faster until it started puttering in her ear. She sat up and realized that the vibration continued. The water level had reached her chest. The rumbling passed near the vehicle, startling Falkirk.

  “It’s a boat!” she said.

  He nodded yes.

  Stiffly, she grabbed the sword, took two deep breaths, and plunged into the water, with Falkirk right behind her. At the surface, she squinted at the sunrise. Two motorboats approached, each with the word tranquility stenciled in black paint. “We got two here!” someone said. D’Arc suddenly noticed how thirsty she was, and almost dipped her mouth into the water to drink. The memory of her master swatting her away from the toilet made her reconsider. She giggled deliriously at the thought.

  “Oh, God,” Falkirk said.

  The front door of the Prophet’s house had collapsed, with pieces of wood floating about. Dozens of bodies gathered at the entrance, almost indistinguishable from the wreckage. The walls and trees were riddled with bullet holes, and a charred section suggested that a bomb had detonated in the courtyard. One of the fish-heads bobbed in the wake from the motorboats. The creature floated on its armored spine, jaw yawning open, its tentacles spread out so that it resembled some hideous lily pad.

  A boat pulled up next to her. A human hand lowered from the side. She reached out to grasp it.

  CHAPTER 17

  the child or the demon

  The Sarcops retreated to the mouth of the river, where they could taste a hint of salt from the ocean. The wounded lay prone on the rocky floor with blood streaming from bullet holes, gashes, and severed limbs. Taalik sustained a direct hit in the attack when a projectile punctured a segment in his armor. He tore it out with his claw, leaving a frayed wound that bled for hours. The Queen had made the Sarcops difficult to kill, which would only prolong the suffering of the mortally wounded.

  Taalik hated this place. The endless maritime traffic during the human age had polluted the delta, leaving a coat of oil on the
riverbed and random garbage submerged in the mud. Metal and plastic would sit here long after his death. Taalik counted three automobiles so far. Masterpieces of engineering, and the humans simply discarded them.

  Amid the waste and decay, a mound of fresh eggs pulsed in the water, perfectly smooth. Zirsk had performed her duty by depositing them the night before the attack. Behind the transparent membrane, a new crop of tiny soldiers danced and twirled, unaware of the hopeless situation that awaited them.

  Taalik had failed. He could no longer deny it. They came all this way to find the secret of the sun and free their people. Did he misunderstand the Queen’s message? Was he unworthy? He could not keep these questions to himself any longer. He needed to know who still believed. And so, when he finished brooding, he asked his people—all twenty-three of them at this point—to gather round.

  You have suffered with me, Taalik said. He thought of Orak’s severed tentacle, the way she brandished it when issuing orders to the others. He thought of Asha, ambushed by the rodents in the north and lost forever. He thought of the Queen’s silence.

  We came here to find the human who could free our people, he said. But we are too late.

  It is another test, Orak said. A few of the Juggernauts clicked in approval.

  Test or not, there is nothing for us here.

  Our enemy is here, Riyya said, her claw covering a wound in her torso.

  Another piped up: Give the word and we attack. We finish them off.

  Then another: We came all this way.

  A few of the Juggernauts swam in circles, signaling aggression and danger. Taalik steadied himself against the current.

  The Queen led us here for a reason, Riyya said. Taalik had never heard his people try to interpret the Queen’s revelations. That burden was for him alone.

  Perhaps the Queen wanted to show us this human city, Orak said. So we could see how these surface animals betrayed her. We will not fail her in the same way.

  That is another reason to attack!

  Wait, Taalik said. He waved at the Juggernauts to get them to stay still. The Queen is not some book we can consult. She is not waiting nearby to tell us to go left instead of right. Up instead of down. She sacrificed herself so we could learn how to move forward on our own.

  What are your orders then? Orak asked.

  We must rest first. I will decide when the light returns.

  He suspected that even those hungry for war felt some relief upon hearing this. The multiple wounds, along with the difficulty in breathing the thin air, left all of them exhausted.

  But will the Queen speak to you? Riyya asked.

  Taalik almost lashed out at her for not listening. But then he remembered what Orak once told him. You gave us meaning and hope. But you cannot take it away. You cannot tell us what to do with it now.

  The Queen may speak to us, he said.

  He gave Orak a final glance before retreating to his chosen spot in the muck. Surrounded by the wreckage of the human civilization, he drew in his claws and wrapped his tentacles around himself. With the water flowing in his ear holes, he faced south, where the delta gradually opened into the vast kingdom that was rightfully his.

  That night, Orak visited him. When she swam into view, she uncoiled her tentacles, including the injured one. The wound had closed, and the limb would grow again. If they abandoned this place, she would be completely healed by the time they reached the ice.

  Did you mean what you said about the Queen? she asked. You never told us before that she gave us this . . . freedom. To decide for ourselves.

  Which do you prefer?

  She pulled her tentacle from his grasp. You do not answer my question.

  Sometimes, we must listen, he said. Other times we are on our own.

  But how can we know the difference?

  She trusts us.

  Orak swam away from him. How long before the others ask these same questions? she asked.

  Suddenly, he felt the Queen’s echo leave him, like oxygen escaping a lung. The sophisticated creature he had become suddenly vanished, leaving the frightened monster of the deep, unable to think or feel, reacting only to changes in the environment, to threats, to sounds. Taalik darted toward Orak and clamped his pincers around her throat. He lifted his other claw and aimed the sharp point at her eye. Orak let him do it. Her tentacles drifted, and her claws hung harmlessly at her side.

  You threaten me? he said.

  I warn you.

  And I warn you. Know your place. Who gave you the intelligence to question the Queen’s orders? Who found you in the dark? Who gave you a family? A home?

  My Egg, I do not follow her. I follow you. But I cannot speak for the others. Do you think their devotion to you will overcome their doubts, as mine has?

  Taalik let her go. As he began to sink, she embraced him, keeping him afloat.

  I die at your side, she said. I kill at your side. No one else’s. No one.

  The other Juggernauts approached, frantic. Taalik heard their clicking sound, an alarm signal.

  First of Us, Riyya said. You must come. Now.

  On the other side of a mound of earth, the Sarcops clustered around a wounded Juggernaut. Her blood entered Taalik’s nose, and he recognized it right away. The soldiers gave him space to enter the circle. There, Asha, alive after all, lay sprawled out in the mud. Her gills opened like separate mouths, gulping in the oxygen. First of Us, she said. Taalik.

  I am here, he said.

  They tell me that we attacked the humans.

  Yes.

  And you still need someone who can control the sun.

  That is true.

  It is no human we seek, she said. The Queen has spoken to the surface animals. They possess her knowledge, even if they do not realize it. I saw one of them.

  Who?

  Someone brought her a bundle of seaweed. Asha stuffed it into her mouth and chewed. Her tongue slid out to collect the scraps before they could float away.

  The night creature you told us about. With fur. And—

  She held her claws over her head to indicate ears. And teeth, she said. Sharp like ours. And a tail. She indicated this by waving a tentacle behind her. The others got out of the way to give her room to move.

  There are many creatures like that on the dry dirt, Taalik said.

  This is the one who murdered the Queen. You saw this in your visions. You warned us.

  Asha told him that she had been wounded so badly on the river that she slipped into a premature hibernation. When she awoke, the land animals stood over her, debating what to do next. And she recognized the killer. She even heard his name before she escaped.

  How can you be certain it was him? Taalik asked.

  The Queen showed me. The same way she showed you.

  Only Taalik possessed this ability, and yet there was no reason why the Queen would not communicate with any of them. Perhaps this was the sign he’d been expecting.

  She speaks to you? Riyya sneered. Why does she not speak to the rest of us?

  The Queen speaks through those she has chosen, Taalik said. Those who can hear.

  This creature I saw, Asha said. He is a demon. He killed one of us already. The land-crab. He . . . butchered her children. He ordered the other animals to break open the eggs and extract the young ones.

  Taalik remembered his vision of the creature’s final moments. The land dwellers swarmed around her, destroyed her nest. Like humans.

  If the child cannot help you, Asha said, perhaps the demon can.

  This cat was not worthy. And yet, if he could access the Colony’s knowledge, then he would be their only hope. Even if Taalik had to force him to do it.

  We are too weak, Orak said, quietly. We cannot attack again.

  There are other ways, Taalik said.

  Before Orak could re
spond, the other mates pulled in closer until they formed a swirling mass of scales and fins.

  The Queen speaks, Taalik said. We will find this demon. We will save our people.

  The Juggernauts swam around him, forming a whirlpool that made his limbs lift from his sides. For a moment, the movement of the water banished the rotten smell of this desolate place. The Juggernauts tightened the vortex, with Taalik at the eye of the storm. Through their swiftly moving bodies, he saw Orak swimming away into the deep.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Remnants

  The temple became the focal point for the search and rescue operation. Chief Wawa converted the open-air lobby into a command post, from which the surviving Tranquility officers divvied up tasks, distributed supplies, and delivered updates. Above, the Upheaval circled the city, completing one orbit every twenty-eight minutes—D’Arc timed it. The Vesuvius remained in its dock at one of the skyscrapers. Though no one said it out loud, the reason became obvious—her captain had perished in the flood. In fact, so many humans had died that the chief hastily promoted the survivors. Daiyu Fang became head of Special Operations, or what was left of it. Carl Jackson was put in charge of the patrol units.

  On that first morning after the attack, D’Arc and Falkirk stood in the plaza with dozens of others, all shivering and glass-eyed, while Wawa issued a grim report. The Archon was missing and presumed dead. Two refugee camps had been swept away, the bodies en route to the Atlantic. The rupturing of the dam fractured the concrete levees that kept the river from entering the streets. A construction team would need to build a temporary barrier and bail out the water by hand, like the crew of a doomed ship.

  The good news: the Sons of Adam repulsed an attack on the Prophet’s residence. The fish-heads made it as far as the inner chamber of the building, only to retreat. Rumor had it that Michael himself fired a few shots. Though Wawa could not confirm that, she did say that a few of the monsters had been left behind, and the scientists were studying the bodies. The strators would present their findings later in the week.

  For the time being, Tranquility was left with the immediate response. Jackson set up a system for locating the survivors, having lived through a similar flood in his native New Orleans many years earlier. From the plaza, rowboats spread out to search the area. All homes and apartment doors would be marked with an X. In the left quadrant, the search team would add their initials. Going clockwise from there, they would write the date, list any dangers like broken glass or unstable walls, and count the bodies. A second wave of boats would collect the biohazards. D’Arc and Falkirk volunteered to go with the first shift, preferring to deal with the living rather than the dead.