by Moira Rogers
“My name is John.” He studied Zel for a moment and raised his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Who are you?”
After a moment’s thought, Zel told him the truth. “Dominic Wetzel.”
He nodded and transferred his gaze to Cache and Devi in turn, almost as if scanning them. “Your companions are acceptably human. They shall be allowed to enter.”
Danger zipped through him. “They?”
“They.”
Without warning, a shockwave hit him, knocking him off his feet. Instead of landing on the stone floor, he landed back in his body.
Aton stood over him. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”
Zel’s body ached, and he thought his head might crack open under the spiking pain. He closed his eyes as Aton’s face wavered. “I need to get back in there. Devi and Cache are alone with that bastard—”
“You cannot go back in. I found that out for myself.” He held up a finger. “One attempt. The program seems to retain a user log. When it boots you, it bans your signal.”
Zel rocked to a sitting position, then flowed to his feet and lunged, curling his fists in the demon’s vest. “What in fuck did you send them into?”
“A test,” Aton told him calmly. “If they pass, the system will grant them access to its archives.”
“And if they don’t?”
“As far I know, the system should boot them, as it did you.”
It would have been comforting a few weeks earlier. “If anything happens to either of them, I’ll kill you. Somehow, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Surprisingly, Aton nodded. “I find that acceptable.”
Zel forced himself to take a step back, more shaken then he wanted to admit. To consider his father’s motivations would be to consider his earlier revelations, and Zel’s brain shied away from anything that would force him to acknowledge Aton’s delusions of godhood.
The son of a god. Someone had delusions, all right, and maybe it wasn’t Aton.
“You worry for nothing. Devindra will be fine.”
Zel pivoted and turned his back on Aton, striding to where Devi lay stretched out on a small pallet, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Crouching down, he reached out with one hand to smooth back a lock of her hair, tucking the corkscrew curl behind her ear. His fingers drifted to the sweet bow of her mouth, then to her tawny cheek. “She’d better be.”
Devi kept her hands to herself through sheer willpower alone. “What happened to him? Did he drop out of the network or—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“Booted.” Cache’s lips pressed together in a tight line that usually meant trouble. “Can we back up a step? What the fuck does acceptably human mean?”
The man in front of them tilted his head, the look almost curious. “According to your genealogical profiles, you are eighty-four and seventy-nine percent human, respectively.”
Acceptably human. “There must be some mistake. We’re both human. Only human.”
“Impossible. The last pure human died in the year two thousand fifty-two.”
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Devi almost stumbled as her knees weakened, and cold sweat rose on her forehead.
Twenty fifty-two. The year of the Fall, when the border between the human and demon worlds had opened up to spread hell on earth.
No.
“If part of us isn’t human,” she whispered, “then what is it?”
Cache snapped, stumbling back with both hands held up in front of her. “Fuck no, I am not part demon.”
“Demon is a colloquial term. Inaccurate, and ultimately meaningless.”
Cache hadn’t heard Aton’s explanations. His confidence. “Gods,” Devi said. “That’s what Zel’s father called them.”
“Dominic Wetzel, son of Aton and Sora. Thirty-seven percent human, fifty-four percent undying, nine percent celestial.”
The recitation was too mechanic, too rote. Cache’s eyes narrowed, then widened in something approaching awe. “It’s an AI. It’s a motherfucking AI. Jesus Christ.”
The man straightened again. “Jesus, son of—”
“Oh hell no.” Cache flung up both hands, something approaching panic in her expression. “I am so out of here. This is messed up.”
Devi caught her arm and tried to project a calm she didn’t feel. “Settle down. We came here to do something, and we’re going to do it. Right?”
Cache wouldn’t settle. “This technology? It doesn’t exist, Dev. Not like this. Not this real, this—”
“Impressive?” John smiled, looking like a pleased man instead of a program. “I’m capable of a modicum of vanity, and it has been flattered, Marinella, daughter of Stella and Joseph. Do you wish to continue?”
Devi stepped between them. “We came for information about the demons. Or the undying, whatever you call them.”
He curled one massive hand around the hilt of his sword and drew forth the shining blade, planting it tip-down in front of him with both hands folded over the pommel. “As the guardian of the Templars’ history, I may gift knowledge to those who prove themselves worthy, through deed or dream. Only those dedicated to regaining the knowledge of the ancients may petition the guardian for access to the Temple.”
Whatever the hell that meant. “I want to find out how to close the barrier for good. How to send them home.”
“A worthy dream, however improbable. Will you submit to the trial?”
She would, because she had no choice. “Cache?”
“I guess.”
Enthusiasm was far too much to hope for. “We’ll submit.”
He nodded once and lifted his sword as he turned. The blade began to glow an eerie green, a luminescence that intensified as he lifted it high and then drove it into the stone floor.
The ground underneath their feet trembled. A crack formed, splintering out from the sword, a hairline fracture that shot across the floor until it reached two of the far columns. In that instant, the space between the two columns shimmered, turning black and then silver.
John lifted his hands from the sword, and the silver vanished, leaving a view of an office building. Desks stood overturned, papers scattered and chairs on their sides. Broad windows showed a view of a city skyline at midday, breezy clouds floating past in the bright blue sky.
In the midst of the office four figures materialized: a curvy young woman with brown hair and gentle eyes, an older man with silver hair and a scarred, weathered face, and two teenagers, a boy and girl. All looked confused, but whatever words they spoke didn’t carry across the barrier.
John turned to look at Devi again. “Those four souls have been pulled from the nearest accessible network. They are trapped in the test and at the mercy of your choices. To die in the trial is to die forever, and there are no second chances, not for you and not for them. You have five minutes to cross the boundary into the trial, or you fail. You have one hour to complete the challenge, or you fail.”
With that, he vanished.
“But what is the—” Devi groaned and ground out a curse. “Figuring it out must be part of the challenge.”
Cache stared at the barrier, her eyes wary. “My whole life, I’ve laughed at all the ignorant, superstitious morons who think you can die in the network. It’s always been a joke. Every week, someone claims to have invented the ultimate game, one where death is possible, and the next week someone proves it’s a hoax. The network can’t kill you.”
Devi stepped forward and touched the barrier. It undulated under her hand, engulfing her fingertips. “I think we should take it seriously. Something in the network put Trip in a coma.”
On the other side, the two teenagers seemed to be yelling at each other. The oddly familiar woman’s gaze slid right past Devi without stopping, as if she couldn’t see them at all.
Cache moved to stand next to her. “Then those four people could die if we don’t go in. I think I recognize one of the kids. He’s from Rochester.”
“They all are.�
� She vaguely remembered being introduced to the dark-haired woman—Kate, who worked with Zel’s mother. The one who’d been corresponding with the spy from Nicollet.
Devi stepped through the barrier. “Don’t panic.”
The old man spoke in a quiet growl. “That’s about as likely as me sprouting wings. What the hell’s going on?”
Cache appeared beside her as the teenage girl flung out her arm to point at the other youth. “Chuck’s always screwing with the network like a wannabe hacker. He probably fucked something up now that Trip’s not paying attention!”
“Chuck didn’t do this,” Devi said calmly. “An artificial intelligence pulled you here, and I guess it’s my job to get you home. But I need your help.”
Kate stepped forward. “I don’t understand. What intelligence, and why?”
“A test.” Cache strode past them to a desk that held an old-fashioned desktop computer, twice the size of anything Devi had ever seen outside of historical oddities. “Jesus, what year are we in?”
At the window, the older man sighed. “Fifty-three. This is Minneapolis in fifty-three. Capella Tower.”
Devi walked over and laid her hand on the glass as she peered out. Smoke billowed up from burned-out buildings and overturned cars. Soldiers fought in the streets, fending off demons with guns and other firepower, even knives. In the distance, an explosion rocked another office building, windows shattering outward as the structure began to buckle and fall.
“April seventeenth?” The day four factions of demons executed the first coordinated attack on the city.
“I think so.”
Kate made a soft noise of confusion. “What does that mean?”
“The AI said we had an hour.” Devi turned away from the window. “Cache, see what you can do with that terminal. If this is when I think it is, we need to get out of here. The whole building’s about to go.”
“Go?” Chuck stared at her in disbelief. “Go as in blow the fuck up?”
“If this is April seventeenth, twenty fifty-three,” Devi reiterated, “then yes. Demons attacked Minneapolis that day. They razed half the city.”
The man turned his back to the windows as well, his face tight. “I’m down there somewhere. Nineteen years old and about to get sliced open so bad it’ll take thirty-six stitches to close me up again. They were just putting in the last one when I watched the Tower fall in on itself. My father was supposed to be on the last subway car out of here, but he never made it.”
Devi’s scalp prickled. This had been his fight a long time ago, and it was her fault he was reliving it. Kate and the children were never supposed to see the battle at all. “Cache? Have you found an emergency evacuation plan?”
“I can’t—” A frustrated curse, and she glanced over her shoulder at the man. “What’s your name?”
“Dakota.”
“Dakota, do you remember much about these systems?”
“Maybe.” He joined Cache at the desk, and the two of them bent over the keyboard, immersed in low conversation.
The teenage girl eased closer to Devi, fear plain in her face. “None of this matters, right? Even if we can’t drop out, if this place blows or something, it’s game over.”
Devi swallowed hard. “It’s important to try. You didn’t come here on your own, and I don’t know what might happen.”
“Maybe it’s like Dead End.” Chuck’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard if you die in Dead End, you die in—”
“It’s bullshit,” Cache snapped, clearly out of habit. A second later her face paled, and her shoulders went tight. “Just—can you guys keep it down? I need to concentrate.”
Kate touched the boy’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around the girl. “It’s okay. Come over this way and give her some space.”
The man—Dakota—straightened and moved to Devi’s side. “She’s in now.” He lowered his voice. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on? How bad is this?”
“If we can get out with no problems, maybe not so bad.” She eased open the door, her head cocked to listen. Thundering footsteps and shots echoed somewhere in the building, perhaps a few floors down. Damn it all.
“And if we can’t?”
They’d have to fight their way out, unarmed and probably outnumbered. “Ever had to take a motley group like this out on maneuvers, Dakota?”
He glanced around, his gaze taking in Cache’s slight body, Kate’s soft curves and the two awkward teenagers. “Not exactly a battle-ready crew.” His next words to Devi held grudging respect. “You look like you’ve seen a few fights in your day, though.”
“More than I ever wanted, but brawls have a way of finding you out on the road.” The footsteps grew louder. There was only one way into the room, and Devi motioned for the boy. “You, Chuck. Block the door behind us, and don’t open it unless I say.”
The teenager obeyed in grudging silence, and Dakota’s sudden smile was fierce. “Let’s kill us a demon or two.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zel counted Devi’s breaths.
In. Out. Her chest rose and fell, as steady as if she were sleeping if not for the occasional hitch and the fluttering of her eyelashes. He’d forced himself to watch her chest after the first few moments, seized by unreasoning panic every time her jaw clenched or her lips parted. The faint echoes of her expressions were torture, but breathing—breathing meant she was alive.
For now.
Aton cleared his throat quietly. “You must have questions.”
So many there was no sane place to start and no reasonable way to process the answers. He still didn’t want to walk the path of Aton’s delusions, but it was knowledge, however skewed. “You said you were a god.”
“I said the humans I knew worshipped me as a god. I am undying.”
The way he said it made it sound like a classification instead of a state of being. “Is that what you all are? Undying?”
Aton took a seat by the wall. “My followers, yes. There are others, those who came from the heavens. We call them celestials, just as you would.”
“Celestials? Like what, angels?”
The corner of Aton’s mouth quirked up. “They have been called such. You also call them wings, I believe.”
Wings. Skins. Angels and gods. Life was easier when they were all just demons. “I’ve met my share of wings. Celestials. Nothing angelic about them.”
“Just as there is nothing godlike about your father the demon, yes?”
Anger stirred, and Zel choked it back by looking at Devi, still and helpless before him. “You said you’re not what you once were. Does the same hold true for them?” Are you all easier to kill?
“Yes and no.” Aton’s voice roughened. “The celestials are different. Why, I don’t know. It’s part of the knowledge I seek. They are like us, caught wherever they happened to be when the veil reformed. It has, unfortunately, driven some of them quite mad.”
“But not diminished?”
“That only happens when we return from the other side.”
It was like talking in circles, stalking the truth by coming at it from a dozen different angles. “If you go to the other side when you die, why don’t you stay there?”
Aton met his gaze. “We go to the other side, but not to the place we knew. It’s…” His stare lost focus. “It’s a horrible, blank place. Nothing but…nothingness.”
Purgatory—or hell. Zel watched Aton’s face, studied it for any reaction or hint of humanity. But he was a statue, aside from that unsteady gaze. “So you really can’t get home, none of you. You’re here because there’s nowhere else to go?”
“It’s still there,” he countered immediately. “Our home exists, we just have to find it.” He inclined his head toward the server on the table.
There was a reaction Zel recognized. Tight eyes, tense shoulders hunched forward. Defensiveness. A weakness. “So why are you sane and the others aren’t? Only the celestials go crazy?”
Aton smiled,
a sickly expression devoid of mirth. “I have no idea. It happened before the rift closed, but only rarely. Nothing like what it’s been.”
“I don’t understand. Why—”
The tablet on the table let out a shrieking whistle, and Zel started upright, coming to his feet before he realized it wasn’t a scream. A moment later, Trip’s voice spilled out of the small speaker. “The server finally caught on and booted me. Did you get out okay, Zel?”
Zel lunged for the table and snatched up the handheld. “Booted you? Why? You’re human.”
“Am I?” A rusty, mirthless chuckle accompanied the words. “Not so much, I guess. Not anymore.”
“Bullshit.” Fear forced out the word. “You’ve got a body and we’re gonna get you back into it. So just—shit, Trip. What the fuck’s going on in there?”
“Like the AI said—it’s a test. But Devi and Cache aren’t the only ones involved now.”
“AI? Is that what that thing was?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Trip sounded muddled, almost confused. “Artificial intelligence, a program designed to administer the security test.”
Trip was fading. Losing himself in the jumble of too much information, and there was nothing Zel could to do stop it because control had spiraled out of his hands. “What happens if I smash the fucking thing to pieces?”
Aton caught his arm in a steely grip. “Don’t. I’ve never seen technology like this.”
“He’s right,” Trip cut in, his voice clear again. Focused. “Whatever programming or hardware Nicollet used to attack me, this system’s got it, or something even more sophisticated. If it fritzes out while Cache and Devi are logged in, it could kill them, along with the others.”
Aton released Zel and circled the table. “What others?”
“Dakota Gregory, Kate Lee, Chuck Barnett and Molly Sorenson.”
“Christ.” Dakota might be past his prime, but he’d been a soldier in the war, and one of Oliver Wetzel’s most trusted lieutenants in the years that followed. But Kate was a gentle woman, still damaged by the betrayal of the man she thought she’d loved. Chuck and Molly were young, barely more than children.