by K. Gorman
“No,” Karin said. “We’re forgetting something.”
“Oh?”
With great effort, and more than a little pain that slid through the numbness, she pushed herself up on her good arm and levered herself into a sitting position. The world tilted as she leaned forward, curling over a bent knee for support. She took a moment to breathe, then slid her legs over the side of the bed and let them dangle.
Marc came to her side for support. With only her camisole on, it was easy to see where the damage started on her arm.
“He’s not a god, he is just a man. And he is not magic. His powers, whatever they are, come from a source. If we can find his Cradle, we destroy the source of his powers.”
Layla arched her eyebrows. “Really? Then how come you’re so powerful, walking around without a Cradle. What if your Cradle was destroyed? I don’t think it would kill you.”
She frowned.
She has a point, Tia said. Killing our Cradle would only be killing our back-ups, so to speak―my Origin, and the fragments of your personality that we stripped off. I don’t know how Bernard is running his, or what discovery he made fifteen years ago that allowed him to do this. It did seem more Cradle-oriented than our setup.
Yes, it did. Why else would he have asked Sasha for a new Cradle base? If―
She frowned. Wait a minute. They had found the Cradle that Sasha’s daughter was the base for.
“Reeve, remember that Cradle from Macedonia that you guys took?”
He looked up. “Yes?”
“If you get a chance, tell them to get Sasha to switch it over to Tartarus or the Shadow world. It’s possible he’s using that one―or that he was using it as a prototype.” She couldn’t see how he would have been using it, given it was likely in orbit at the moment, and it had been dormant and empty except for the baby, so it was more likely a prototype. “I’d still like to find his Cradle. I feel like it could give us some answers. Plus, there’s also the chance that he is hooked up to it and then I can just kill him.”
“Yes,” Marc said. “That would be nice.”
She nodded to Soo-jin and Takahashi. “Splint this for me. We don’t have time to wait for it to heal.”
“Then get back on the bed, genius,” Soo-jin said with an eye roll. “You’re hampering our medical efforts.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Bernard Corringham’s house looked different in the Shadow world. Quieter. Dormant. Without the sun outside, several of the lights had turned on, casting a bright, multi-spectrum illumination around the kitchen and its gleaming floors and counters, but leaving unexplained splotches of darkness where the lights hadn’t turned on.
She swallowed, moving carefully through, the boots Layla had lent her tapping on the smooth wooden floors. The golden sword she held was sharp and light, well-balanced, and molded to her grip as if it had been made for it. Layla had picked it out of an armory at the temple. She held it in her good hand, ready to stab and slash at anything that moved.
She breathed in a shallow breath and let it back out, her gaze darting around, alert for any sign of change.
Fuck, this is nerve-wracking.
The Shadow world was the closest one to the real world. With Bernard’s powers, it felt like even the slightest noise might give her away.
Then, everything would be fucked.
But the Shadow world was also familiar. And, as time ticked on and its mood slid through the house around her, she found herself relaxing.
But only a little.
Slowly, she eased herself through the house.
It was a simple layout. A single story with a largely open concept and one hallway. After the living room and kitchen, the next set of rooms was a dining room on the right and a reading room on the left. She cast a light after that, drawing on her Eos powers to help search. The house branched off into a master bedroom, a guest bedroom, an office, a large, exquisite bathroom, and a laboratory that she caught a glimpse of, extending off the back left of the building.
She frowned as she peeked into the guest bedroom. A Shadow met her inside, standing just to the side of the bed. Its presence gave her a slight jolt―even modified as it was, Tia hadn’t managed to erase a millennium of built-in instincts―but then something moved inside of her, and her mind shifted with the brush of soft darkness.
Her own Shadow, still within her, and still very much active.
Good to know.
She turned her attention back to the room. The blankets here were mussed, and there were belongings in here and clear signs of use, but they looked to belong to a woman rather than a man.
So, Bernard and Grace weren’t sleeping together. That was interesting.
But―where did Elliot sleep? Bernard did say that Elliot lived here. Was there another building?
It didn’t matter. She needed to find the Cradle.
“Eos,” said the Shadow.
“Yes,” she replied, ducking out of the room. “Hello to you, too.”
She backed out of the room and continued her search.
The master bedroom didn’t bring up any Cradle. She searched through it, just in case. A king-sized bed sat on a wooden frame at the middle of the wall, set with a duvet that resembled the blankets on a traditional Japanese futon-styled bed, and the floor was a mixture of wood and stone, the latter cutting across in a curve like the shore of a shallow river, leading to a small en-suite and a frosted glass door that led to an outdoor bath.
She checked the walls, ceiling, floor, and even flipped open the lid on the outside bath, just in case there was a hidden door or Cradle.
Maybe she’d watched too many netdramas, but she wasn’t about to let that slide by her.
Then, she backed out and moved onto the laboratory.
Bingo.
The Cradle nestled into the closest wall inside the door, sticking out like a giant, bulbous white thumb. The whirring, computerized tank vaguely resembled one of the luxury hot tubs she’d seen advertised in hotels over the years, albeit more medical in its equipment and casing. Inside, the lights were on, and the translucent, aquamarine water rippled with currents. Tia’s analytical mind kicked in as she examined it, noting the expanse of its curves and the odd, cushioned cot that appeared inside.
Meant for longer periods of connection?
This must be it, she thought to Tia.
Possibly, yes. It looks different than what I’m used to, but seventy years is a lot of time for innovation.
Yes, it is. She glanced over it. Though she’d seen a more recent version of a Cradle back in Seirlin’s abandoned lab on Nova, this had a different look to it―which was logical. The Corringhams, from what she’d gathered, had broken from Seirlin, and the lab in Nova was Seirlin’s attempt to recreate their experiment.
I hope the Alliance sues the pants off of them.
Several Shadows followed her as she skirted around the Cradle’s foot, and once again, she felt the shift of awareness from her own Shadow inside her. She hesitated a moment, then wedged the tip of the sword into the crease of the Cradle’s lid and splintered it, setting the sword aside to use her good hand to pry it the rest of the way open.
It looked roughly the same as the one they’d picked up from the Macedonian complex a week ago. Newer-looking, of course, with a more-finished design on its prefab, and entirely lacking an undead baby―for which she was both relieved and confused. Without a Cradle base such as the Sasha clone in the other Cradle, how did it work? Had Bernard found a way around it?
Maybe Tia was right. Maybe he had made a discovery that negated the need for a base.
She tilted her head, squinting at the slots in the side of the center console.
There was only one active implant in its side. The rest of the slots were empty.
Shouldn’t there be more? she asked.
In theory, she would have expected a couple hundred inserted into its hub.
Maybe he squished everyone onto a mass hard drive, Tia mused. Not recommended, but te
chnology has progressed quite a lot since my day.
Where’s the base? she asked.
Maybe Bernard is using himself as one. Either that, or he’s found a way around it.
Or maybe he’d found a way to use a digital base.
She shook her head. It was confusing.
But, it was there.
They’d found it.
Thank the fucking gods.
Now, all she had to do was switch over to the real world, pop the top off, and crush the single implant stuck in its hub.
It would likely crash the entire structure down on itself along with whoever it was inside―if they were connected―but, given all that Bernard had done, imploding his mind just seemed like poetic justice.
If she could do it.
Fuck, she thought. You ready?
Neither of us is ready, Tia informed her. You have a broken arm, and he’s got all of the power in the universe.
Yeah, well, we don’t exactly have a choice. If we wait any longer, he’ll just move. Then we may never find him. And the universe will continue to be his.
She took a big breath and let it out, resisting the urge to roll her shoulders.
With her current injury, that would be inadvisable.
Then, she looked up at the Shadows watching her. There were ten of them, now. And hers was still inside.
“Well, wish me luck, guys.”
With that, she grabbed the sword, tugged on her power, and ported herself to the other world.
The air changed, and the ambience shifted. Warmth touched her skin, along with the light from the tank. Inside, she felt the smooth touch of the Shadow world slip from her grasp.
She was moving before she was fully over, lifting her blade and aiming it awkwardly for the crack in its top where she could pry the lid off.
But―this time, there was someone in it.
She halted, her attention snagging on the body.
Bernard?
It…didn’t look like Bernard. Whoever this was, they were an emaciated wreck. A Caucasian male with pale skin that practically glowed in the tank’s lights, the top of the water’s surface lapping at a shrunken, starved abdomen. Ribs stuck out from his chest, and she could see every bone under his skin. His legs were like sticks, the muscles withdrawn into thin caricatures of themselves, and his dick was a flaccid, wrinkled splotch that swayed listlessly in the water’s current.
His head floated under the Cradle’s computerization, one leg of the nanoinjector visible from her angle. The lower half of his face was obscured by a breathing mask.
A moment ticked by, then another.
What the fuck? she thought.
That’s…Tia hesitated, a growing sense of clarity mixing in with the disgust. That’s Elliot.
Karin looked down sharply, her mouth slackening as she examined the body again. Thoughts came to her, and memories. Naked memories. Memories she hadn’t known she had.
Surprise bloomed through her.
She’d never given much thought to memorizing someone’s body, nor had she given much thought to Elliot Corringham being naked―for obvious reasons. But Tia, at one point, had. And with Tia’s memories, and her mind’s new thought processes, she could take certain body ‘landmarks’ from Tia’s memories and match them to the person in the tank in front of her.
There was a thick mole just on the side of his belly button. And another, smaller one by his nipple that had always annoyed Tia. And a dip in the skin along his shin from where he’d injured it playing on the docks as a child―he’d liked to tell that story.
This was Elliot.
Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway outside.
Fuck.
With a smooth move, she adjusted her sword, switching it onto the backhand and aiming its tip at Elliot’s throat just as Bernard appeared in the doorway, his eyes curious and amused.
And predatory.
She could see it now, just as she could see the wrongness of the world around them.
“I thought I felt someone tip-toeing through my house,” he commented, taking in the scene.
“Stay back,” she said, pressing the blade closer to Elliott’s throat and holding it at a steeper angle. “I’ll kill him.”
He chuckled. “Go ahead. He serves no purpose for me anymore.”
Her jaw muscles worked. “You’d kill your own brother?”
“No, I wouldn’t. But you killing him would serve a most poetic bout of justice.” He let out a soft chuckle, and his lips curved. “Do you know what that is? Why he’s in there?”
She narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to glance down at the Cradle, to take her eyes off of the man standing in front of her. “It’s a Cradle.”
He made a tutting sound. “No, that’s not a Cradle. It’s similar, I suppose, but it doesn’t serve the same purpose nor have the same uploading facilities. No, that is a long-term simulation device.”
A what?
She hesitated. A door slid open in the hall outside the room, and another pair of footsteps came toward them. Grace―Bernard’s Eurynome clone―appeared just behind him on his left, her dark eyes catching the lights. She crossed her arms over her abdomen, as if she were cold.
Or hurt.
Bernard watched her gaze slip and glanced back. “She’s part of this, too. Part of what my fucked-up brother did. And you, Tia, should know. You were all what started this whole thing.”
She was staring at Grace, trying to process. She shook her head, her mind sliding into a mix of denial, shock, and confusion. “What?”
“Elliot was so obsessed with you that, when you died, he took a copy of your brain and began to run it in a computer. Only, you weren’t exactly as he imagined it, especially since you dumped him, so he kept adjusting you, scraping off all the things that he didn’t want until he created a you that he liked and a you that would stay with him for all eternity.” He jabbed a finger toward the Cradle, and she flinched at the movement. “That’s your chip in there. His copy of your mind that he dumbed down enough to suit him. And he’s been living in there for five years.”
Inside her, Tia had gone utterly still. It felt like the bottom had dropped off her mind.
“He didn’t like me,” Grace said, hugging herself harder. She was beautiful, she realized, and younger than Karin had thought. “He made me, and he didn’t like me.”
“Not your fault. You couldn’t have pleased him unless you were a robot he could program.”
Grace gave a shrug. “I didn’t like him much, either.”
Karin stood there, stunned.
What the fuck?
“That is some of the weirdest, most fucked-up shit I’ve heard, and I came from one of your compounds,” she said. “He didn’t like his ex, so he created a version of her that he did, and that would accept him? Fuck. He basically lobotomized her?”
And created a living, breathing clone. Don’t forget that part. Inside, Tia’s speech faltered.
“So, go ahead,” Bernard gestured. “Kill him. It would save me a lot of shame and hassle.”
In that case, it sounded like something she shouldn’t do.
He might be lying, Tia’s words came in a rush, bubbling up like gas in the ocean. It might not be true.
But, even as they thought it through, the evidence was too damning. Grace was standing right there, looking like a young, beautiful version of Tia. And Elliot was in the tank, wasting away.
He could still be lying, Tia said, stronger this time. He’s lied to us before.
Elliot is going to die anyway. Does it matter?
Tia considered that.
No. No, it does not.
Karin looked down, her upper lip curled in disgust. Then, Tia’s strength surged through her arm, and she stabbed down, slicing the tip of the sword through Elliot Corringham’s neck and watching the blood gush out into the water.
The body beneath her jerked, an arm coming up and slapping harmlessly against her elbow. She brought the sword up a second time and stabbed d
own again. And again. And again.
When she was done, the water ran red, and Elliot Corringham’s body was a brutalized mess of flesh.
Then, she used the sword to pop the lid of the not-Cradle, pulled it away, and stabbed its tip into the chip inside until she heard it crack and splinter.
When she turned her gaze back up, Bernard was watching her with predatory eyes. Behind him, Grace had taken a step back.
Karin spared her a glance, reaching out with a touch of her Eurynome power.
She didn’t notice.
Neutered, Tia diagnosed. A Eurynome in name and face only. No powers.
Good.
Go, Tia urged. Go now.
She lifted the sword tip from Elliot’s neck and switched her focus to Bernard.
She had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting out of this one alive. Not if he was so calm about it. Not when his own power slid through every molecule of the room, including the air that she breathed. Not with that knowing expression on his face, as if he were waiting for her to do something.
“Where did you get that sword?” he asked.
“The Goddess Athena gave it to me,” she said, her tone clipped and sardonic. “We use it to kill monsters.”
He grinned. “Then you’ve found a good target.”
She also had second and third blades in sheathes hidden in her pants, and a fourth at the small of her back. If she was going to bring a blade to a fight where her goddess powers were already being outgunned, then she was going to be extra redundant about it.
He was still just a man. If she managed to stick a knife into his neck, then she could save the world―and herself―a whole lot of trouble.
“It’s not from here,” he said, taking a step forward.
No, it isn’t. So you can’t touch it. That is the whole fucking point of it.
She retreated, wariness in her blood. Her heart pounded in her throat, the dull roar of blood overwhelming her ears. The pain from her arm had started to peek back, but a new rush of stimulants knocked it down.
She was ready to fuck herself up to get to him.
Her gaze slid from him to Grace.
“He’s using you, you know. You’re a copy of a woman he killed over seventy years ago. He cut me open, put my brain in a tank, used me for his research, then left me to rot.”