I sat forward, sensing an opening. “Are you sure? Don’t you think I can feel you when you’re there? Maybe the things you think you know aren’t real at all.”
The corners of her lips turned up a bit. “I know how much you love Dora. It’s going to be very satisfying to dismantle her. First, I’ll start with her teeth. Crush them, molar by molar. Maybe cut out that tongue she loves to flap so much. I’ll take her eyes last,” she said.
My stomach roiled. I couldn’t let Isiris leave the temple. Yet I didn’t think she could leave, or else she would have already done it. But the way she was talking hinted that she had a way.
“If you can just walk out of here, then why haven’t you already left?” I challenged.
“Things must be as they are meant to be. I am the heart of the resurrection tales in every version of mankind, in infinite worlds. Inscribed on the walls of this temple. I am Aphrodite. I am Tanit. I am Ishtar and Osiris. I am Buddha. I am God. I will walk the earth I choose, when the time is right. I am infinite, and so are those who follow me. You are here to take my place as Guardian, and in doing so, you release me. My time is just beginning, and yours has ended.”
“Not to overstate it,” I said.
She looked blankly back at me.
“Basically, I’m like your understudy?” I asked sarcastically.
“I have been the Guardian, and now that honor passes to you. The yin and yang. It is time for me to enter my kingdom on earth, and you will stay here to shepherd lost souls.”
The words sent my mind racing back to Madam Wang and the seemingly nonsensical declarations she made while examining my tea leaves: I see the mirror image of your soul. In it lies your greatest source of power.
My reflection contained my greatest source of power. It suddenly occurred to me that if I was a part of Isiris, maybe I could do all the things that she could do. Manipulate the temple. Invade her mind. Gain control.
A sliver of hope sliced its way through the hopelessness that gripped my heart.
“So, now that I’m here, you’ll be able to leave,” I stated. “So you can hang out and be God on earth.”
“Now you understand,” she answered. It sounded like BS to me, but it was clear she believed it.
“After you pluck out Adam’s eyes, of course.”
She nodded.
“So I’ll be stuck here?” I asked.
“You will. The gate requires its Guardian.”
I thought of the last Violet Hour, how my hand had met a barrier in the open doorways. Why had I been able to leave with my father when I was a baby, yet was unable to leave on my own now? By Isiris’s logic, I should be able to pass through those barriers if she was still installed as Guardian. What was different? There had to be something more to it—a piece to the puzzle that was missing.
“Is blinding Adam part of the whole ritual of breaking yourself out of here?” I asked, thinking of how she’d taken one of my father’s eyes before he carried me out of this place as a baby.
“No. But he must belong to me. When we walk into the world together, that is how it is meant to be.”
“You can’t force someone to belong to you,” I said.
“You belong to me,” she said. “I created you.”
A wave of disgust rolled through me. “If you created me, what does that make me? I must be a god, too.”
Isiris’s nostrils flared. She clearly hadn’t considered this question, and she only had room in her mind for one deity. I didn’t really want to know the answer; whatever I was, however I came to be, I knew who I was inside. The rest didn’t matter.
“It makes you mine. Come here,” she commanded.
She held her hands out, palms up. I could feel her putting pressure on my mind, pressing for an entry. My body began to rise, but beneath that was an instinct to resist. Madam Wang’s prediction rolled around in my mind: in it lies your greatest source of power. I might be more powerful than Isiris.
Isiris stared at me intently, boring into my mind. If I could feel her attempts to enter my consciousness, I might also be able to prevent them. Maybe even turn the tables. For now, though, it was important that she believed in her illusion of total control. Luckily, self-delusion was a towering strength of hers. I stood up and crossed the room.
Put your hands in mine, her voice said in my head.
I placed my hands over her palms. It was like placing yourself in the mouth of a Venus flytrap. Her skin was smooth and papery, unlike my own, which was cold and clammy. I assumed the next thing would be the onset of a vision. I held my breath in anticipation for a moment, but nothing happened. No squiggly worms. No film reel burning.
Isiris closed her eyes. It was like closing a circuit and flipping the electricity on full blast. The sheer force of her pulled my mind in circles, squiggly white worms now doing the rhumba around the edges of my vision. Instinctively, I pushed back. It felt like she was trying to drain me of my memories. I tried to grab onto some thought, some snippet, something I might shove through the hole in my mind that she’d created. Control the flow.
Suddenly it wasn’t Isiris pulling, it was me pushing. I was doing something I’d never before done. Vivid scenes of my life funneled through me and into her—I gave her what I knew she craved most. Sitting on the General’s lap. Laughing to the point of sickness with a gap-toothed Dora. Adam pressing me up against the carriage and kissing me with the heat of the sun on my face.
A menagerie of memories. A private collection, which she consumed as if starving. It was like giving an addict just a taste. Then I shut off the flow. I kept the most important things—the vulnerabilities, the secrets of trusted friends, the insights about Irisis’s own weaknesses—hidden behind a locked door inside my mind.
It was a test. She would fall for it, and I would have hope; or she wouldn’t, and I was doomed.
Silence.
Her grip on my hand grew tighter. “Thank you for letting me have your memories. You have no idea how much they will mean to me.” There was a sinister undertone in her voice. “Now I know what’s really important to you,” she added.
A hard edge flashed in her smile. My stomach dropped like a stone. Maybe she’d seen more than I realized.
“Why did you have Sacristan Wang make the virus?” I asked.
She dropped my hand. “I’d entrusted the man you called your father with the most important thing in all existence.”
“Me?”
“Of course not you,” Isiris snapped. “You were just the conduit through which I could communicate. Your proximity to him made it easy for me to influence his actions. What I entrusted him with was the secrets of the Inner Truth, the keys to immortal life. This whole hidden world—which no one but me can begin to truly understand. But instead of doing as I’d instructed, he co-opted the Truth for his own material gain. He corrupted it and turned it into a vile, sickly reflection of its true self, and you did nothing to stop him.” Her words were venomous.
I thought of my father taking me as part of a bargain for self-gain. I wondered at what point along the way he actually began to feel something for me. The sting of tears threatened and I had to bite them back.
“VisionCrest,” I said.
“Yet sometimes I work in ways that are mysterious even to myself,” Isiris continued. “At first, I couldn’t see the genius hidden within my own plan. Even if it’s imperfect, VisionCrest has immense power. And even better, you are now its leader. Or I am, rather.”
“So the virus is your means of consolidating power? Anyone who doesn’t bend to your will gets exterminated—is that it?” I asked.
“And those that remain will worship me. A promise and a sacrifice. Purity exacts a price.”
“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before,” I said.
“Your friends are immune to the virus already. Low-level exposure will give anyone immu
nity. Adam’s tattoos are not just a sign of our eternal love and fidelity; he’s a walking inoculation. I had to make sure he was protected. You really can’t trust people like Adam’s father or Sacristan Wang,” she said.
So Adam had been right. The tattoos made him an inoculated carrier. And that was probably the reason why Dora, Stubin, and I didn’t get sick. We’d spent enough time in close proximity to him to build up resistance. But by that logic, it didn’t make any sense that Mercy got sick. As much as it irked me to remember it, she’d spent more time in close quarters with him than any of us.
“What about Mercy? She wasn’t immune,” I said.
Isiris tilted her head. “A tweak to the formula, courtesy of Wang. I understand that Mercy is having a hard time dying. Still, I did us both a favor, don’t you agree?”
“No, I don’t.”
She shrugged. “The virus will be released on my command. It kills very fast, so it can be targeted.”
It was evil beyond imagination.
“I saw a vision, earlier, of people in Japan and China—the places we’ve visited—dying. Was that real?” I asked.
“I just wanted you to see the possibility of what you helped create. You’ve played an important role. I thought you should enjoy a taste of the future of your world, even if you won’t be there to enjoy it.”
Fear stabbed me in the gut.
Isiris stood up. “I’m afraid it’s time for us to go. Do you think Adam will like me in this uniform? It will be the last time he sees me, after all.”
“You look beautiful,” I said, stroking her ego.
Isiris’s eyes lit up. “Of course, you’ll be there to witness it. I insist.”
“I’d like nothing better,” I lied. I had to find a way out of this, and I was almost out of time.
SACRIFICE
The beat of footfalls at my back swallowed me in a sea of soft thunder. There was no way of knowing how many of Isiris’s followers were with us as we descended the ramp, Isiris and Adam ahead and me in their wake. We circled our way down to the eye. The pseudo sun that normally lit up the cylindrical chamber was somehow extinguished, leaving us in near-total darkness except for the flickering of candles and the eerie radiance of Isiris’s zombie followers.
Not one word was uttered the entire way. Adam had looked my way only briefly when he was handed over to Isiris, his mouth set in a line of grim determination. The tattoos rippled across his bare chest and his sapphire eyes looked black in the darkness. Whatever innocence remained in us, I feared it would be lost tonight.
Adam’s eyes moved to the knife clenched in my fist. His jaw tightened—he knew exactly what it was for. Isiris had given it to me, with instructions that I would deliver it to her when it came time. In that moment, Adam’s eyes revealed his true allegiance—and it wasn’t to Isiris. I knew he was planning something drastic, a last-ditch attempt to save me from this disastrous situation by sacrificing himself. Just like me, Adam was playing Isiris’s game in hopes of turning the tables in the final hour. I gave him a tight jerk of my head: No. He looked away.
Abruptly, the thrum halted. An ellipsis of expectation dangled in the air. Inside these walls was a truth about me that flowed much deeper than I’d realized. I was overcome with a thought that was both thrilling and terrifying: maybe Isiris was right. Maybe this was where I belonged. For some reason, the image of Dora popped into my mind, but she felt a million miles away. Our friendship seemed alien, part of a world that had ceased to make sense the moment my foot touched these ancient stones.
Isiris and Adam stepped into the center of the eye. Isiris turned and motioned for me to join them. The altar rose into the air once again. Below us, the roiling bodies of believers crawled over one another like maggots on dead flesh. The lit sconces threw shadows that crept across the ancient stone. The room was choked with swaying bodies, and completely impassable.
Above us, believers lined the ramp. They were more sedate than those on the floor, and wore a ceremonial white that must have signaled some kind of status. The common thread among all the followers was the dark, empty eye sockets and the way they moved in unison, as if some invisible thread bound them together.
The doors were all shut tight, but I knew the Violet Hour was close once again. At the moment when the doors flew wide to welcome passing souls, everything would be decided one way or another. I did not believe that Isiris was God, or even just a god, but she and the Violet Hour were mystical things that defied my ability to explain them. She had accused my father of perverting her religion, but the fundamental core within me coursed with the truth: Isiris, more than anyone, was perverting something ancient and powerful. It was a dangerous game.
As Isiris surveyed her followers approvingly, I reached out and took Adam’s hand in mine for a moment, just to let him know he was not alone. Isiris raised her palms to the crowd and the dull roar of moans fell to perfect silence.
“With a promise and a sacrifice, eternity begins tonight,” she declared. Adam tensed at the word sacrifice. I only hoped he held on—didn’t try anything stupid before I could make my move.
“A ritual cleansing of blind sight ushers in an age of verity. The Inner Truth of the Inner Eye!”
The roar of the believers shook the stones.
“The Guardian stands before you, ready to restore the purity she helped destroy. She will make herself worthy of being your faithful servant. By offering her eyes as a blessing to our union, she redeems herself in the eyes of God.”
Adam’s gaze cut to me, panicked.
“What?” I said.
Isiris’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Give the knife to Adam.”
She raised her hand and made the signal. My hand moved as if of its own accord, as did Adam’s. I dropped the knife into his waiting hand.
I looked back at Isiris, whose self-satisfied grin turned my veins to ice. She leveled her gray-green eyes at me. The crowd of believers had pressed against the base of the altar. We were trapped, and the situation was completely out of my control.
Get on your knees or he will drive that knife straight into his own heart.
I looked at Adam. His body was tensed as if for a fight. If I didn’t do something soon, he was going to try to take action himself. I clenched my teeth and silently begged for him to hold on. I got down on my knees.
The knife’s edge danced in the candles’ glow. Adam’s arm began to arc down, his muscles straining against the motion. I glanced at Isiris. Both her hands were busily working symbols, and her glare was intently focused on Adam. The tip of the blade was inches from my eye, and Adam’s brow was furrowed in pain from the intensity of fighting her off. Any lingering doubts I’d had about him were erased completely.
I harnessed all the helplessness, rage, and despair inside of me. There was only one thing I knew that might give me a chance to beat Isiris at her own game. I concentrated on the aimless masses that surrounded us. Isiris’s believers, robbed of their ability to see their own way forward, were vessels waiting to be filled with purpose and direction. While Isiris was distracted by her own selfish machinations, no one was paying attention to them.
Except me.
I sent a silent apology out to them. I did not want to become like Isiris, but right now, I had no choice. A ripple went through the crowd—a moment of indecision and restlessness. Then, action. Those nearest the base began to climb on top of each other, reaching up toward the altar. Isiris was so busy waiting for the knife to plunge into my eye that she didn’t notice the tide turning.
It was working.
I pushed my way outward, commanding everything within the radius of my mind to advance on Isiris and take her down. For a moment, there was only anarchy, a jumble of confused limbs. But then there was a surge, as if every soul had shifted its course toward her.
Fight against her. Take her down.
I comma
nded the blind army as if it were the most natural thing I’d ever done. There was a connection reaching out from the center of my mind, spreading like a web in all directions. I could feel them moving inside the net I’d cast, all of us connected.
You have the power inside you.
Even Adam seemed to swivel ever so slightly toward Isiris. A swarm of stiff-limbed believers hauled themselves onto the altar, and the light of surprise dawned in Isiris’s eyes. She blinked, glancing around like a bear emerging from hibernation.
She uses you for her own gain. There is no Inner Truth in what she’s done to you. Take back control.
More believers were climbing over one another’s shoulders, swarming out of the pit, up over the edge of the altar. The realization of what was happening dawned on Isiris. I felt her control slipping completely away from her. Just as quickly she redoubled it, attempted to pull it back with a fury. Then she pounced on Adam like a jungle cat attacking its prey, her arm snaking around his neck from behind, her hand making the three-fingered symbol. She pulled him close as if he were her possession.
Fighting against her direction, Adam slowly turned the knife on himself. He pressed it against his chest, through the iris of the angry Inner Eye tattoo that covered his heart. My stomach clenched. I couldn’t let Adam die.
“Harlow, forget about me. Don’t let her use me as a distraction.”
The blade dug into his smooth skin, drawing a thread of blood. I knew that in another second, Isiris would be overrun by her own creations—but not before Adam was stabbed through the heart.
“Call them off,” Isiris ordered me.
I wanted to smash her perfect nose so far into her face that it would be permanently embedded in her skull. Things weren’t supposed to happen like this.
Isiris’s eyes locked onto mine as she tightened her hold around Adam’s neck. His face contorted in pain. Her tongue emerged from between her parted lips and she ran it up his neck, from the hollow of his clavicle to just beneath his ear.
The Violet Hour Page 22