by Tobias Wade
Henry pushes off from the stone rim, leaving more greasy clumps of skin behind on the edge. His whole body is red with blood, but he isn’t shaking anymore. No going back now. Elijah’s cards have been played, and he stands his ground against the abomination. It wasn’t a solid hope, but it still seems better than trusting the word of either of the two demons. And besides, once he had the seed he could close the portal and keep its power for himself. That’s what all this was about, wasn’t it? The miraculous power.
A power that he doesn’t understand and sorely underestimated.
“You’re right about one thing,” Henry hisses, his voice dangerously low yet somehow still loud enough to completely fill the resonating chamber. “It’s too late for me. It was too late since the moment I let that promise slip between my lips. Closing the portal… whatever in me used to want that is nothing but a dream to me. How could I repay The Beast’s blessing with such betrayal? And you who would aid in such an endeavor—what punishment do you deserve?”
Elijah’s cards have been played, but he’s playing the wrong game. Ender had told the truth, and Elijah had wasted his chance. He takes a wild lunge back toward the bridge, thinking to destroy the book in the lake. The light of the flames extinguishes immediately, fizzling into the air like the last air bubbles escaping a drowning man. Elijah charges through the darkness, intent upon the spot where the door should have been. He’s running flat out when he crashes into a stone wall, the jarring impact rattling every bone in his body.
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” the voice coos from everywhere and nowhere. Then the wet sliding of loose skin dragging along the ground—almost like hot butter in a pan—coming his way. “Like The Beast, I am a kind master.”
Elijah turns toward the sound, more in fear of having it behind him than out of any real courage. The iridescent pool is still visible, its ever-changing colors like a beacon in the darkness. The waves split and crest and reform, their motion casting an endless myriad of other reflections as though Elijah could not only see every way the substance moved, but also every possible way it could have moved simultaneously.
“The book, Krisha.” The voice is almost compassionate, and much, much closer.
Elijah takes a deep breath, one that would quite likely be his last. He struggles to conjure a profound thought—some slow-building apex to sum his life into something meaningful. He tries to think of a thousand thoughts at once, but everything just dissolves into the numbing fear of that wet sound dragging ever closer. Maybe that fear is my apex then, he thinks. Maybe that fear is my meaning. Trying to banish it no longer, he holds onto it, a life raft in the storm ravaged sea. He lets that fear enter his treacherous limbs and propel him forward, still clutching the book. He lets the fear in his mind shelter him from the burden of thought as he fixates on the multi-hued pool. Henry is screaming now, the raucous sound a cudgel in Elijah’s temples, but it's drowned out by the roar of his single-minded fear. A wet hand clutches at his arm from the darkness, but his momentum carries him all the way to the pool. It's the strength in his coiled muscles as he springs onto the stone rim, and still holding the book, it's his last prayer as he dives headlong into the glimmering well.
In that moment, Elijah understood fear and became its master. In the next he is spluttering into another world, realizing how naive he truly was.
“You aren’t the one I expected.”
“Who are you?” Elijah gasps, lungs steaming from the sudden crisp air.
“They call me The Beast. And yourself?”
20
The shadow under the door dissipates like mist. Out of the corner of her eye, swirling eddies of darkness still pool throughout the hotel lobby. Half her awareness still strains for a sign of Dantes following her, but it seems that her rapid departure was sufficient to quench his flame. If the hand hadn’t struck midnight—if she didn’t have an excuse to leave—
But the thought doesn’t go any further than that. There’s something else in the wind now, words mingled so seamlessly with the breeze that Jessica feels them on her skin as much as hears them with her ears.
“Outside, Jessica. My baby… my girl… I’m waiting for you.”
Jessica shivers, hesitating at the wide front window of the lobby. How is there wind inside? This old place must have termites in the wood. Holes between the planks, loose shingles, that sort of thing. But perhaps part of why Jessica is so lost is that she continues trying to reason through situations which have long since parted with reality. Acting logically in an illogical situation is itself illogical, isn’t it? If she’s really going out there knowing full well what is calling her, then there is no choice but to embrace the surreal night. She must accept that anything she might see or learn can be the truth, no matter how strongly it may revolt against her sensibilities.
“Jessica… my darling… my little one… where are you?”
Then again, she could already be caught within an elaborate lie. Jessica opens the door, wincing as the little bells tied to the handle dance merrily. Another glance into the shadowed lobby behind her, the cold wind licking the side of her face, then she pushes herself into the night.
There are two winds blowing tonight. One from behind, seemingly steering her chair and guiding her across the paved parking lot. A second wind comes from ahead, laden with her mother’s whispering.
“I should have told you sooner,” blows the wind. “Let me make things right.”
Push and pull. Ebb and flow. Truth and lies. All rocking her in such a fluid motion as to be part of the same whole. Jessica grips the metal wheel bearing and propels herself onward, more to warm herself from the exertion than a need to speed her journey. Nearing the edge of the parking lot, she vainly searches the darkness for a passable trail. Maple and ash trees surround the paved area, their leaves shimmering and translucent in the moonlight. The ground becomes rough with fallen leaves and knotted roots, but the wind still beckons her with its caress.
“What is a beast?” the wind asks. “Something wild. But so do all things seem that are alien to us, for they live by a different rhythm than we know. Are we not beast to the animals who do not understand our ways? It was always man who is to blame for choosing to worship The Beast with their fear.”
The wind isn’t strong enough to overcome the resistance of the forest ground, and Jessica has to muscle her way through the trees. She can still feel the touch of her mother’s words even amongst the shelter of their trunks, guiding her onward.
“Man honored him with their fear, and like a seed, fear was planted in their hearts. And so The Beast obliged, nurturing that fear, fanning the flame into an inferno of their own creation. If they had only been wise enough to instead pray with their love, then how beautiful the blossom might have flourished.”
“Mom?” Jessica calls, her voice thin in the magnitude of the night. “Why can’t I see you? Where are you taking me?”
“The seed of fear grew in every man’s heart, no corner of the Earth untouched by it. Some fled to the darkest, deepest places they could hide, building temples to pray for salvation. Others lingered on this blasphemous shore, preaching their doctrine of fear to one another so they might taste of The Beast’s power.”
Jessica tries to hold herself still, but the gentle wind is relentless in carrying her onward. She could fight it if she wanted to, but her curiosity at the words sapped all strength to resist their summons.
“Azgangi and Marapoza—those were made by people fleeing from The Beast?” she asks.
“Carrying the seed of fear in their hearts, they could not hide from him,” the wind replies. “He could smell them and follow them. Through endless dark passages, through cracks in the stone, through the keyhole in the door—how could they hope to lock him out when he already grew within?”
The wind is getting stronger. The words are beginning to feel more like real words than wind. They have a definite direction now: just beyond the next line of trees… but her left wheel is wedged against a
root.
“Desperation is the mother of discovery, and trapped within their own tombs, these men pursued themselves into the greater darkness beyond. The Well of Eternity they built is a gateway into a second world. They didn’t understand that the seeds of fear still ripened within them, or that they could not flee something which was already part of their nature.”
Jessica rocks the chair so hard against the root that it tips her backward. A blind panic as it continues to slide across the loose soil, pitching her backward. She hurls her weight forward to avoid going down with it. A moment of terrified flailing, then she pitches free of the chair. She collapses on the hard ground, the chair clattering to the dirt beside her.
“I can’t do this,” Jessica shouts, hot with frustration. Her lower back feels like it’s been severed by a blade of ice. She grips the dirt between her fingers, trying to breathe through the pain. “If it’s really you, Mom, why won’t you help me?”
The voice continues, unhearing, or uncaring of Jessica’s struggle. “The Beast pursued them through the Well of Eternity into the Chazan realm, as it was so named. This place was filled with more variety of animal and man than ever existed on Earth. With one voice the denizens of Chazan worshiped The Beast with their fear, and how he rewarded them with the seeds he has sewn. The more they prayed, the more cursed they became, until the years reduced all the diversity of life into ranks of nameless demons, slaves to his will.”
Is it even her mom at all? The voice doesn’t answer her, so what if it was only a recording? Jessica must get closer, even if it means pulling herself along the ground, inch by excruciating inch. The voice sounds like it’s coming from just the other side of a massive maple tree now, its scaly bark casting jagged shadows across the dirt she crawls through.
“The Beast forgot about man entirely, so rapturous was he in planting his fear in this rich new land. For years he has gorged himself on their suffering, corrupting them to his influence and raising legions the likes of which have never been seen on Earth. The shadow which slithered into Chazan all those years ago—The Beast that once drove man into every corner of the world—he was nothing compared with the glorious behemoth he is today.”
Tears are burning streaks down Jessica’s face. She can’t get enough air in her crumpled position on the ground, and every mouthful she swallows is a razor dragging its way into her lungs. She leans heavily against the maple tree, letting the rough bark bite into her fingers to provide the grip to drag herself upright. The pressure on her back immediately subsides, but it’s going to be even slower going working her way around the tree. She’s close though—close enough that more than words are reaching her. There’s a thumping, struggling, beating sound, like flesh pummeling against something hard.
“I’m almost there, Mom. I’m going to help you.”
“Alas that The Beast had grown too large to return through the portal in the temple. Even his demons, blessed so with his power, could not descend through the Well of Eternity. Something smaller must pass instead, to reinsert his influence upon the world and open a way large enough for his glorious passing.”
Mackenzie’s head has drooped to her chest when Jessica finally sees her. Heavy chains choke her body and secure it to a tree, the links tight enough to dig into her body. She wasn’t whispering to be quiet—she was whispering because her lungs could barely expand enough to allow a trickle of air down her throat. The thumping came louder now as Mackenzie occasionally lunges forward against her restraints, only to be caught and hurled back against the hard wood.
“Something small, and impressionable. Something that could blend in on Earth and do The Beast’s bidding without even knowing why.”
“You mean the seeds?” Jessica asks, cautious to approach her mother even now.
“A child. Your divine flesh, Jessica.”
Jessica is frozen, clinging to her own tree a few feet from her mother. Mackenzie tests her bondage, pushing off the tree with her legs, straining her neck to get just a little bit closer. The wild hair falling across her face blocks all view from the eyes.
“You’re lying,” Jessica says, more to herself than her mother. “Why did you really call me out here? Why didn’t you bring the plane down? What do you want from me?” Even the chains might be a trap—a false sense of security, luring her closer until…
“The Beast intended for you to grow up near Marapoza where you emerged from the Well,” wheezes the trickle of air escaping her mother’s lungs. “His influence is strongest near the portal, and he meant to guide you to open the way for him. It was foul chance that the underground caves were being used to smuggle cocaine into Iceland, and worse luck still for Ender to find you and steal you away. The divine flesh so far removed from the divine spirit is only… mortal, after all.”
“He didn’t steal me! He saved me—” but the words cut short. Even by defending him, she was acknowledging that the story could be true. Mackenzie must have felt it too, because her white teeth glistened from within the heavy shadow.
“So far from the portal, all The Beast could do was give you a little nudge. But that’s all he needed—a whisper, an irrepressible thought, a forbidden desire to leap—”
“No!” Jessica shouts, her blood pounding in her ears. “That wasn’t him. I didn’t—”
“The day after you jumped, Ender received a contract from a miner named Ramose who lived deep inside the Mponeng goldmine. The miner had spent years down there, close to Azgangi where The Beast’s influence was strongest. Ramose promised Ender fabulous wealth—more than enough to pay for his daughter’s operation. How could the man refuse such a chance?”
“That’s a lie,” Jessica interjects. “If he had influence over Ramose, he wouldn’t need me at all—”
“The miner did not possess the divine flesh. It’s always been about you, Jessica. You were born in Chazan, and you are the only one who can bridge the two worlds. All The Beast ever needed was for you to take the seed and let the divine spirit merge with your flesh.”
Mackenzie isn’t struggling against the chains anymore. Lifting her head, Jessica sees her mother looking back at her. No darkness—no black marble. The clear whites of her eyes practically glow from the shadows, the blue irises filled with weariness and compassion.
“You can trust me, Jessica. The seed has rooted inside of me, but I’m fighting it back the best I can. That’s why I chained myself before you met me; I don’t want it to hurt you if I lose control. But it’s me now, it’s your Mom. And I want to tell you that everything is going to be okay.”
“How? How could everything possibly be okay?” Jessica’s voice splinters in emotion, but she doesn’t bother trying to hide it. “How can anything ever go back to normal after this?”
“The Beast never meant for you to take your own life,” replies the strained whisper. “He only brought you to the brink—just enough to need the operation. When you slipped past the mortal shore, you killed who you used to be. Reborn into this world, your flesh is of this world, the divinity gone. If you take the seed now, that power will be yours and yours alone. Only one blessed with the divine spirit—the seed—may understand how to read the Codex Gigas and close the portal forever. Your father and I will be free of this curse…”
“But if you’re wrong—”
“Look what I’ve already sacrificed for you,” Mackenzie interrupts. The mask of shadows does nothing to hide her impatience. “Do you really think I would risk you again after all this? The other humans would never accept you if they knew the truth. They will try to steal you away from me and shun you for a life you didn’t choose. My darling, my baby, my little one—come to me now. Hold me, while I’m still myself. Remind me what I’m still fighting for.”
A bird squawks somewhere in the darkness. The soft rustle of some unseen animal, then the heavy silence once more. Jessica allows herself to slip from the tree, dragging herself along the patch of dry leaves to bury her face between her mother’s legs. There’s a brief tension as Mack
enzie strains against her chains to get closer, then a welcoming relaxation and the familiar warmth.
“I missed you so much, Mom …” The unbidden tears are concealed as Jessica wraps herself around her mother in a tight embrace, pressing the chains into her own body.
“I’ll be back to you soon. A few days maybe, and we’ll be a family again.”
“And you won’t let dad leave on any more missions?”
Mackenzie’s slow laughter is music.
“After this, he’ll want to be a boring office clerk until the day he dies.”
The soft clink of chains. Then another. Jessica is holding on so tight. She doesn’t want this moment to end, but that sound is filling her entire awareness. Then the loud slide as the first chain falls free and rattles to the ground. Jessica holds her breath, not daring to look up and meet whatever eyes are staring down at her. Her body becomes as rigid as a board.
“Hush, my child, my little one,” Mackenzie coos. Her arms slip free of the chains and wrap around Jessica. “It’s only me. Remember that I passed my seed on within a few hours of accepting it, so it didn’t have long to grow in me. The longer it grows, the deeper the roots. I can fight this, and so can you. I swear as your mother, you can take the seed. You must take the seed for yourself, before The Beast finds another way through. Will you do that for me?”
Jessica allows herself to soften within that embrace, and everything in the world is finally—
A gunshot does more than shatter the moment. It shatters time itself, little shards of which splinter through the air like a soft snowfall. Everything is happening at once, and nothing is happening at all. Jessica can only hug her mother tighter, feeling the shock of the impact cascade through her mother’s body and into her. Then a second shot—and a third—and a fourth—her mother gripping tighter the whole while. Jessica doesn’t even realize she’s screaming until several seconds have passed and her mother’s grip falls loose around her.