Dark Company

by Natale Ghent

  “Why did he bring me to Hex?” Caddy asked.

  “The Company men had already seen you. He needed to maintain Hex’s trust. If he’d brought you to me right away, we would have all been endangered.”

  “And Hex’s eye?”

  “Another deception.”

  Caddy wasn’t buying it.

  “Think of what’s at stake,” the woman said. “It’s essential that the trap be as detailed and convincing as possible. Hex is willing to do anything for what she believes.”

  “What about the mark?”

  “It’s a way to trace you.”

  “Why not just kill us all?” Caddy said. “Why go to the trouble of such an intricate deceit?”

  “Drastic action would tip their hand, and those with the vision would go elsewhere. Hex plays a subtle game of trust and treachery. The Company men give her credibility. Few things cloak true intention like fear and an emotional cause.”

  “What about the other Dreamers? They’re innocent. How can we just sit here, knowing what’s happening? Why don’t you try to help them?”

  “We can’t take the chance.”

  “Yet you went to such lengths to find me.”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “We are all equal … but you are exceptionally talented. Each Weaver brings a unique perspective, a singular thread to the tapestry. Your ability is very strong, very deep, binding the many threads together so we can see the greater picture, so we can move in the right direction.”

  “I’ve done nothing.”

  “It’s not what you’ve done,” the woman said, her blue eye catching the light. “It’s what you will do.”

  Her words exhausted Caddy. She didn’t want the responsibility of anyone’s hope. “You don’t even know me. How can you possibly say this?”

  “And Hex …” the woman countered. “How could she possibly have known this about you?”

  Caddy thought about this. And then it clicked. “My father.”

  The woman smiled. “Forgive me, but you remind me so much of him. You have his fire. It’s a privilege and an honour to meet you.”

  “I’m not my father,” Caddy said, but she could feel her resolve breaking. “Hex told me he may be dead—that he wasn’t strong enough to handle the truth.”

  “Another lie,” the woman said. “Your father is more than capable of handling the truth. In fact, it was his relentless pursuit of the truth that put his life in jeopardy. He knew something the Company didn’t want him to know. He took something he shouldn’t have. Something that will expose the Company’s lies. Because of this, because of his visions and his rare ability to dream, the Company wants him dead. He ran to keep you safe, to lure the Company men away. Unfortunately, you went looking for him. Hex took you to get to him. I’m sure she suspects now that you’re the bigger prize.”

  Caddy hung her head, her heart in turmoil. If she could only go back to what was, to the way things were before. As if to mock her, the mark on her arm started to throb. She pulled back her sleeve. The tattoo looked infected. How could she have been so stupid? To allow Hex to brand her—she wanted to gouge it from her skin.

  “You couldn’t have known,” the woman said.

  Caddy felt the blood rush to her face. She should have fought harder. “Can it be removed?”

  “Not without causing you harm. Its power is limited here, if that’s any solace. It’s strongest when you gather in a group.”

  “They told us it would join us, make it easier to dream together.”

  “Yes … and easier to track and kill. It wasn’t always that way. The mark used to be sacred, a carefully guarded secret, known only to the Weavers. Its purpose has since been hijacked. We no longer use the mark for this reason.”

  Caddy yanked her sleeve to her wrist. They sat in silence, Caddy sniffing back the tears. After a while, the woman made an offer.

  “Come and meet us. If you decide to stay, we can talk some more.”

  Caddy wiped her eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “I’m Zephyr,” the woman said. “And you’re Cadence.”

  Zephyr stood, and Caddy followed her and Red along the hall to a heavy wooden door. Beside it was a room, filled with firewood, and a splitting axe buried in the side of a thick stump. Red shouldered the door open.

  “The Gathering Space,” Zephyr said.

  Caddy was met by laughter and people sitting in a big circle on the floor, engaged in conversation. There must have been fifty or sixty of them. They looked healthy and well-rested. A fire crackled in a sunken, stone-lined pit in the middle of the room, and a man with a large kettle made his way around the circle, pouring tea into raised cups. There was an open kitchen to one side and a table with food—soup and bread and small cakes. And bowls of fresh berries. Caddy could hardly believe her eyes.

  “You must be hungry,” Zephyr said. “Go and eat. You can shower later.”

  Caddy moved toward the circle and a hand shot into the air.

  It was April, sitting with the Weavers as though she’d always been there. She waved Caddy over. “Food!” she said, making room for Caddy to sit beside her. “Real, delicious, hot food.”

  Caddy spoke in a low voice. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

  April nodded.

  “Do you believe what they told you?”

  “About Hex?”

  “Yes.”

  April grew thoughtful. “I didn’t want to … but what alternative do we have?”

  “I feel like I’m going crazy,” Caddy said.

  “These people seem nice.”

  She was so innocent and trusting. Caddy envied it.

  April placed a bowl of soup and a heel of bread into Caddy’s hands. “Take it. It’s my third bowl. I’m just eating for greed now.” She held up some raspberries and pushed one into Caddy’s mouth. It tasted sweet and sour and alive. “Have the rest,” she said, tumbling the berries into Caddy’s cupped palm.

  Caddy savoured each one then sniffed the soup.

  “It’s lentil,” April said, handing her a spoon. “It’s good. And you can have all you want—no limits.”

  Caddy ate like a hungry dog, dribbling soup down her chin, licking her fingers. When she was close to bursting, she slowed, allowing herself to look around the room. The ceiling was vaulted with huge beams that connected at a central hub in a giant wheel. To one side of the hub was a copper flue, hanging from the ceiling over the fire. The smoke drifted languidly up. There were no windows, but plenty of light from many small portals on the walls circling the room. And the air was fresh—not at all damp or stuffy.

  “Are we underground?” she asked.

  A young man sitting next to her answered, “We are.” He was copper-eyed with a disarmingly open smile and long wheat-coloured hair that hung in thick braids down his back. His gold beard was neat and closely cropped.

  Caddy wiped her mouth with her hand, glancing down at her crumb-covered rag of a shirt. She was a mess.

  “We’re below a large escarpment,” the man said.

  “The Everwilds,” April chimed in.

  The man smiled at her. “Yes.”

  April rested her hand on his shoulder. “This is Dillon. He helped rescue me and Poe.”

  There was something between the two already. Caddy could see that. She was happy for April.

  “Nice to meet you,” Dillon said. “April has told me all about you.”

  “Oh.” Caddy laughed self-consciously. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  “Not at all.”

  “The air is really fresh in here,” she said, changing the subject. “How is that possible?”

  Dillon pointed to several louvred openings in the ceiling and walls. “Conduits. The air circulates from the outside in.”

  “What about the lights?”

  “Solar powered.”

  “Makes sense. How deep are we?”

  “Hundreds of feet,” April jumped in. “Safe from bombs and war. And there
’s a waterfall on the other side of the escarpment. They use it to generate power.”

  Dillon smiled. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

  “Yeah. Where does the smoke go and how do you conceal it?”

  He turned to April. “She’s good.”

  “I told you,” April said.

  Caddy felt embarrassed. She was being so practical. Not everyone was in survival mode. Would it hurt her to relax a little? “My dad is into this kind of stuff. He’d love to see this place.”

  “It’s pretty cool,” Dillon agreed. “We filter the smoke to avoid detection. The heat gets circulated where it’s needed and the exhaust is released near the swamp where no one will see it.”

  It was brilliant. “And there are showers, I hear.”

  “And soap,” April said. “They use rainwater where they can. The rest comes from the river.”

  Caddy dredged the last bit of soup from her bowl. “Some of the building is quite primitive …”

  “The corridors were the first structures built, a very long time ago,” Dillon explained. “This part of the complex is much newer.”

  “How long ago?”

  Dillon pulled on his beard. “Originally? The 1200s, or thereabouts.”

  Caddy lowered her spoon. Surely he was mistaken.

  “The Weavers are a very old organization. Would you like more soup?”

  “No, thank you.” Caddy set her bowl on the floor and brushed the crumbs from her shirt.

  “Do you sleep in here?” It was a stupid question. She realized it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

  “We have separate dorms for men and women. They’re very comfortable. Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?”

  She leaned back on her hands. “That’s the most I’ve eaten in weeks. Maybe even years. I think I overdid it.”

  “There’s always room for cake, right?” Dillon rose and grabbed three small cakes from the table, one for each of them. “It’s best if you eat them like this.” He shoved the whole cake in his mouth, chewed it twice, and swallowed.

  April did the same. Caddy stuffed the cake in her mouth, choked, chewed, and laughed, the sound of her own laughter a surprise in her ears.

  “It’s really good,” she said, spraying crumbs everywhere. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Ready for another one?” Dillon asked.

  She shook her head. The laughter subsided and she was suddenly saddened by the thought of Poe lying in agony while they made merry over cakes and soup. She excused herself, much to April’s disappointment, and left the room.

  Down the hall, Caddy opened Poe’s door to discover him alone and dripping with sweat. She moistened a piece of cloth with water from the pitcher and held it against his forehead. He was burning up. His eyes were haunted, unfocused.

  “I can hear him,” he whispered.

  It was the fever talking, Caddy thought, making him hallucinate. “Hear what?”

  “The voice … it’s speaking to me …”

  Caddy dabbed his forehead with the cloth. “Try not to upset yourself. We’re safe now.”

  His eyes fluttered and his mouth gaped. “He knows I’m here. He knows we’re here.”

  “Shh … try to sleep …”

  His face contorted with anguish. He clawed his arm, tearing at the mark.

  She took his hand and held it. “It’s okay … no one can find you.”

  “Meg,” he said, and fell quiet, his head listing to one side.

  The sober-faced woman came into the room. Caddy stopped her with a finger to her lips. The woman retreated, pulling the door closed. Refreshing the cloth with more water from the pitcher, Caddy continued to dab the sweat from Poe’s face. She wouldn’t leave him alone again.

  Skylark and the Speaker stood in the teahouse, watching. Kenji’s woman was the rarest of flowers. She danced in a shower of rose petals, her gold fan snapping and fluttering against her red silk kimono. The Speaker licked his lips with predatory delight.

  Francis and Kenji appeared across the faintly lit room. Skylark tuned her mind to their frequency. The cowboy give a low whistle.

  “A geisha,” he said at the sight of the girl. “She’s a beauty.” He was about to elaborate but stopped when he saw the look on Kenji’s face. His heart was obviously breaking. Francis gripped his shoulder as an offer of support.

  “I can’t do it,” Kenji said.

  “You have to, old friend. It’s for her as much as you.”

  “I can’t say the words …”

  “It’s easy—I release you. Give it a try.”

  Kenji’s lips trembled. He’d taken a breath, poised to speak, when Francis locked eyes on Skylark.

  “He sees us,” she warned the Speaker.

  The demon launched across the room, cutting the geisha down with a slash of his hand. She dropped, an exquisite bird shot from the sky, her kimono a pool of red silk around her on the floor. The crowd cried out in horror. Kenji hollered as he dove, firing a beam of light. The Speaker scooped up the geisha’s soul and was gone before he could reach him. Skylark lingered to witness Kenji’s pain. He fell to his knees and gathered his lover’s lifeless body in his arms.

  “No, no, no …” he moaned.

  The sky over the teahouse began to thicken.

  “I know how hard this is but we have to go,” Francis said. He looked out the tearoom window. “We’re creating ripples.”

  Kenji sobbed. “My love … my life.”

  “If you’d said the words, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  With a sound like splintering wood, the sky began to crack.

  “Pull yourself together,” Francis ordered. “We need to go.”

  Kenji howled in despair.

  It was a moving sight. At least, it would have been had Skylark felt the slightest bit of sympathy for his suffering. But Kenji’s loss was her gain. Besides, he was the one who’d told her to leave her love behind. And now look at him, bawling like a child. She would sacrifice a thousand geishas for the chance to be with Poe. She strolled in front of him.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  A shot blasted from the cowboy’s hands. Skylark jumped, quick as lightning, leaving them behind.

  SEEDS

  Caddy woke to an empty room. Poe was gone. She leapt to her feet and ran for the door, bumping into the sober-faced woman on her way in.

  “Where is he?” Caddy demanded.

  The woman looked puzzled. “I was just coming in to change his poultice.”

  Caddy shoved past her and raced down the hall. At the room with the firewood, she found him, the axe in his hand. She stepped toward him and he raised it threateningly. His eyes were unrecognizable, wild.

  “Stay away from me, Cadence.”

  She stood dead still. What was he thinking of doing? “Poe … you should be in bed.”

  “This is all my fault,” he said.

  She held up her hands, attempting to reason with him. “What is?”

  “All of it.”

  “I don’t understand … how can you be responsible for any of this?”

  He brandished the axe. “I can’t escape him. He’s in my head. He won’t stop talking.”

  “Who?”

  “Him.” Poe gave a sob and fell to one knee, stretching his arm across the splitting log. “He’s coming for me—for all of us. I have to stop him.”

  “Please, Poe, you’re sick. It’s the fever—it’s making you hear things.”

  “It’s him, I’m telling you!” he shouted. “I have to stop him or everyone will die!” He swung the axe.

  A scream split the room. The sober woman came rushing in, tearing her apron from her waist, and wrapping it around Poe’s arm to stop the bleeding. There were more screams as others arrived. Someone picked Caddy up and carried her from the room before she realized that she was the one yelling.

  “Hush, now,” a man said, putting her to bed.

  She fought to get up. He restrained her, pressing a green
glass bottle to her lips.

  “Drink this,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”

  The liquid was bitter and earthy. Caddy thrashed wildly, the man holding her down until the medicine took effect.

  She came to, hours later, Zephyr sitting beside the bed.

  “Where’s Poe?” Caddy immediately asked.

  “He’s fine,” Zephyr assured her.

  Caddy moved to get up but her legs were wobbly. “I have to see him.”

  “He needs to rest. And so do you. You’ve had quite a shock.”

  “I don’t want to rest. I want to see him.” She needed to know that he was okay. She didn’t want to take Zephyr’s word for it.

  “He’s been sedated.”

  “His arm …” Caddy said.

  Zephyr shook her head. “We had to take it. The cut was clean. It should heal well.”

  “Oh, poor Poe …” Caddy broke down, clutching her safe stone. “He thought he was protecting us.”

  “He may have been.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “The mark is powerful.”

  “I have the mark, too. You told me its power is weak here. He heard voices. I hear nothing.”

  “Yes,” Zephyr agreed. “There was something else at play, here. The arrow that hit him … it may have enhanced the mark’s power. Do you know where it came from?”

  Caddy didn’t know. Maybe Poe did. She would keep her thoughts to herself, though. Who could say if Zephyr could truly be trusted? Or any of these people? She’d been fooled before. As had Poe. And he’d lost his arm as a result.

  “Do you know what’s going on out there?” Zephyr asked.

  “In the world?” Caddy sniffed.

  “Yes.”

  Surely this woman had operatives gathering intelligence. What could Caddy tell her that she didn’t already know? “There are rumours of a bomb. I don’t know much more than that.”

  “We believe these rumours are accurate,” Zephyr said. She stood. “I have something I’d like to show you—something I think you’ll find very interesting.”

  Caddy allowed Zephyr to help her from the bed. They walked along the corridor, Caddy disoriented, unstable, supporting herself with one hand against the wall in case her legs decided to give out. She kept her eyes lowered, avoiding the concerned looks from the Dreamers as they passed on their way to the Gathering Room for supper. She felt exposed, transparent, like they could see right through her.