When the world’s shadow fell on the city, and its own light rose to occult the stars, someone knocked on our door.
“Visitor for Mr. Winslow,” called a voice.
Audrey rubbed her eyes, but managed to sound awake. “Thank you—we’ll be right down!”
Charlie took a washcloth from the bathroom and made an effort to clear the traces of magic from the walls. Audrey retrieved our ritual gear and put the pack in some semblance of order. I examined myself: how much of my earlier paralysis had been induced by the trapezohedron, and how much had been simple exhaustion?
I was still frightened. I’d reclaimed my body after the camp at great cost, and with long study. Our confluence, built on accidental intimacy, had grown into a worthy family. I’d do anything necessary to make them mine again. Somewhere in my sleep, I’d accepted the risk. Even if ordinary magic put my mind in danger, I wouldn’t give it up. I’d restore my squandered strength, or lose what remained trying. Charlie and Audrey and Mary all fought with, and for, bodies that did not easily accede to their needs. I could do the same.
Caught up in my renewed determination, it took me long minutes to realize what was missing. “Neko! Where’s Neko?”
“I thought she was in the bath,” said Audrey.
“No, that was me.” Charlie held up his blackened washcloth. “I was trying to clean this damned thing off.”
“Did anyone see her leave?” I asked. An image came inexorably to mind: an Outer One wavering into existence in our crowded chamber, snatching Neko into the outskirts before anyone noticed the intrusion.
“Here—” Audrey held up a slip of paper, covered in Neko’s neat script. “It was under the lamp. ‘I’m sorry to run out on you—but like Aphra, I need to do something important without asking permission. I still think the Outer Ones can help with the problem they caused, and I’m going back to convince them. I’ll find you at the beach tonight, or back at Tante Leah’s.’”
“We need to get her back,” I said at once. S’vlk’s words echoed in my mind, more frightening than the chimerical kidnapping: Most people can’t stay away.
“You must not go near them,” said S’vlk. “Not until you’ve restored the strength they stole.”
“She seemed enthralled by their visions,” said Audrey. “Neko’s always wanted travel more than anything else. They could give that to her, but—”
“She always needs to feel like she’s traveling for a purpose,” I said. “They’ll find one for her, and convince her it’s justification enough, and put her on one of their altars.” I imagined her young, gentle face twisted in agony, frozen and mindless.
“She’s a child of the air, and will survive it,” said S’vlk. “You, we can’t risk.”
“She’s my sister.”
“We can go after her,” offered Charlie.
Neko in the mine, Caleb and Deedee somewhere in the depths of the city. I felt the weight of the millions outside, overwhelming swarms of humanity obfuscating the few I cared about. Absurd, selfish, to feel that those millions, each with their own circles of exquisite care, were a mere barrier to my own loves. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to let you vanish into the mine in trickles. Letting people go off on their own has just made things worse—we need to stay together.”
“Then you need to wait and see if Neko comes back as she promised,” said Grandfather. “They’ll not harm her in a single day.”
I was more afraid of how she’d harm herself—but my own judgment was demonstrably untrustworthy. I bowed my head, acquiescing to the elders’ orders.
Grandfather and S’vlk retrieved their disguises, donning them with ill-concealed distaste.
“Come on,” Trumbull told S’vlk. “If Mr. Spector’s found a vehicle with windows, you’ll be able to see New York properly.”
“Through these.” She prodded a rubbery eyehole. But with a rumbling sigh, she worked the mask back over her head, flattening her crest awkwardly before pulling her patchwork hood over the resulting lumps.
She examined the ceiling’s bare bulb thoughtfully. The cord slipped through her gloved fingers, and it was Audrey who turned it off after giving the room a final once-over.
“It’s not that humans have learned to call lightning that’s impressive,” said Sv’lk, her voice muffled and strange. “Containing it is the harder thing.”
Spector waited in the lobby. I caught Charlie’s unguarded smile, quickly swallowed. The FBI agent ran a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn, but smiled back. “I’m sorry—this is going to be a bit of a clown car no matter what.” He paused and looked us over. “Where’s Miss Koto?”
“She—” It wasn’t as though I could hide it from him, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. “She went back to the Outer One lair, to try and—negotiate with them. On her own recognizance. I don’t suppose you saw her?”
“No, but that place is a labyrinth. Do you need me to…” He frowned. “What can I do to help? Do you think she’s all right?”
I sighed. “Probably. The elders insist that we go back to Chulzh’th before I try anything else. They’re right, too, I think—the Outer Ones aren’t going to harm Neko.” It was only her own duty and desire that were at stake. And for all that the Outer Ones could enchant minds and sap wills, a Neko who chose to spend her short life traveling would be serving her own true desires. Even if I see her rarely, I won’t lose her as soon. Was that a sensible thought, or the remnant of my own temptation?
“If you’re sure,” said Spector. “Everyone should fit in the car, anyway. And I got you dinner.”
“You’re a good man,” Audrey told him. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that my body was still my own.
My hunger lasted until we went outside and saw the waiting vehicle. I froze on the Pavilion’s top step, then forced myself to continue forward.
Spector glanced back at me. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you for finding something big enough to fit us.”
After twenty years and a war, the government must have replaced its fleet any number of times. But the black police van parked by the curb looked little different from those that had taken us from Innsmouth.
The elders had found the town deserted at dusk, long after those vans left. They climbed willingly into the back of this one. The others followed easily. I took a breath of muggy air, trying to steady myself. Spector’s driving. He’s taking us to Chulzh’th. At last I forced myself inside. The atmosphere was close and hot. I shuddered, though the barrier to the driver’s section was down and the holding area—scarcely smaller than the hotel room—smelled improbably of garlic and soy and cooked beef. I took a proffered tray, and tried not to hear my mother begging Dagon’s intervention, or smell my father’s blood staining my dress.
“Eat something,” Audrey told me. I dug mechanically into a dish bright with broccoli and peppers. The long cross-country drive to the camp had been meagerly rationed; filling my stomach pushed back the memories. Spector had ordered some sort of baked fish for the elders. The windows were tinted, so they could eat unmasked.
Spector pulled away from the curb. “Traffic’s going to be a bear,” he warned. “But you’ll get a good view of Manhattan on the way.” He paused. “I apologize. I know you want to get back to the ocean, but my colleagues are worried about what they’ve seen today. So am I, to be honest. I think you’d better talk to them now, and let Acolyte Chulzh’th wait a few extra minutes. If we can get everyone to agree about what the threat is and what courses of action might be a step or two above complete stupidity, it’ll save a lot of trouble.”
I recognized his tone. “What’s Barlow planning?”
Horns sounded, and Spector braked hard. I caught the beef and broccoli before it could slide off my lap. Lights played over us, red and green mixing with the wan yellow glow of streetlamps. “I’m not sure. Honestly, I’m as disturbed as they are. Something’s got the Outer Ones scared, and they’re likely to try … I don’t know what. If I can’t predict Geo
rge when he’s got a bullheaded plan into his head, what am I supposed to do about them?”
“It’s not only for our sakes we need to return to the water,” said Grandfather. But he rubbed his gills and winced. Coruscating light reflected from his scales. “Acolyte Chulzh’th told Aphra to report back last night. She’s less prone to panicked overreaction than your friends, but she has every reason to believe we’re in danger. Will your friends deign to come back to Coney Island with us?”
Spector twisted around again. “Is that a good idea?”
“No,” I said. “But it sounds like the best we have.” And perhaps their report would help us decide how to respond to the Outer Ones’ ambiguous incursion.
CHAPTER 15
The van had grown stuffy, but a breeze rich with imminent rain followed Barlow through the open door. I clung to the petrichor reassurance as Peters and Mary clambered in.
“Ron,” Barlow called. “What would you have said five years ago, if I told you you’d be driving a car full of mermaids with duck sauce on their faces?”
“I’d have said that sounds a hell of a lot better than getting lost on shitty French back roads, and have you eaten dinner yet?”
The agents accepted cashew chicken and fried rice. The van lurched. From the sidewalk the streets seemed like arteries, but from within the mass of vehicles moved irregularly or not at all. Every time forward progress seemed possible, another traffic light flicked red.
Barlow set his tray aside, the cashew chicken demolished. “Ron, what do you think? Have we solved our missing persons case?”
“Go out to Long Island if you want to drive like that, jackass! Excuse me, ladies. I think the Outer Ones have been very forthcoming in granting us interviews with most the missing people. All of whom say they’re very happy to be there. Are you telling me you don’t believe them?”
Peters snorted. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“Virgil, he’s being sarcastic.” Mary rubbed her temples. “They all say that, but no one can explain why some of them were in their own bodies and others were stuck in those creepy cylinders.”
“If you’ve got legs, you can run,” said Spector. “In one of those cages, what recourse do you have if you don’t trust your keepers? When they tell you what to say, what can you do but go along with them?”
“Hard to stand up to an enemy who has your body hostage,” agreed Barlow.
I thought of Neko, entranced by the stasis room spotlights, and shuddered. “You don’t think they’re all like Freddy,” I said. He might not have known what he was sacrificing, but at least he was there willingly. “He adores them.”
“Some of ’em do,” said Peters. “That weird … girlfriend?… of his, for a start. But some of them—they tell you all about cosmic wonders, but sound like a carnival huckster. With someone digging a gun into his back, telling him he’d damn well better convince you to go see the egress. Then there are the ones they insist are out exploring the universe. Maybe they are. But it’s funny that the ones who vanished quickest, with no talk about nasty new acquaintances, are more likely to be out of town.”
“How many of them are like that?” asked Frances. “How often do they force people along with them?”
“Eight who weren’t there at all, and six of those didn’t give any hint before they disappeared,” Spector answered immediately.
More quietly—quietly enough that I didn’t think she wanted a response, Frances said, “Freddy should have noticed.”
Barlow took a deep breath. He sat straighter, steadying himself against the wall of the cabin. His eyes were on S’vlk, and I realized he was nerving himself up. “You’ve been dealing with these guys a lot longer than we have. How much trouble are we in? At least with the Reds you know how much territory they have—and what they want.”
Grandfather growled quietly—a sound I recognized as thoughtful, but Barlow flinched. The elder bared his teeth. “Are you worried they’ll do to you what you did to Innsmouth?”
Barlow recovered and glared. “I joined up after Pearl Harbor. Are you really going to make this about a few people who got the wrong idea in their heads back in the ’20s?”
“You can blame George for plenty of things,” said Spector. “But in ’29, I’m pretty sure he was learning about magic from beat-up issues of Weird Tales.”
S’vlk’s baritone sliced through the argument. “Men of the air have been at our throats for tens of thousands of years. And we at theirs. The meigo are like us, and therefore dangerous. They are different from us, in ways we don’t fully understand, and therefore the danger is compounded. And they are older, their dangers more practiced.”
“Older—as a species?” Barlow shook his head. “Age isn’t everything. They say cockroaches have been around millions of years, but you can still step on them.”
“Older as a civilization. They came to Earth aeons before humanity arose. They had weapons and tools even then that we still can’t match. They claim an empire—if that’s the right word—of uncounted planets, and uncountable further realms. And yet they fear what we can do to them. That gives them reason to threaten us as well.”
“They fear for us, too.” I still wasn’t sure what I should tell Barlow. I had warned the Outer Ones against him—almost certainly a mistake. Trusting him could be equally fraught. But he already knew enough to make costly mistakes. “The biggest danger now is their desire to protect us.”
“I know,” said Mary. “One of them talked to me about it.”
Barlow swiveled: “What did he say?”
“Kev … Kevashtem-vat? I don’t think I’m pronouncing that right. He said they had tools that could help me with my fits. Asked about the situation in the Soviet Union and China, and whether we thought they’d have A-bombs of their own soon. And HUAC’s Hollywood report. Said they could help with those things, too. I told them I wanted to hear more later, but I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either,” said Barlow. “When you meet Jacques in a café and he offers to help with your Russian problem, he’s trying to compromise you. What do these guys want? And how did he know about your—your health?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been pitched by Jacques. This feels more like Boris offering to help out his fellow commies in Czechoslovakia—it’s not me he’s after, it’s us. All of us.” She patted his hand. “But there’s no mystery about the fits—he saw one. After that hallucinatory ritual I told you about. I’m sorry; I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Mary, I’m already as worried as I can get.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “The more we know about what sets these episodes off, the more we can do to help you.”
She sighed, and let her eyes slip closed. But when she spoke, she sounded clear-minded and alert. “Let’s focus on these Borises for now. If we don’t agree to shill for them, will they try their luck with the Soviets? Or have they already? If what Miss Marsh says is right, they want to prevent open conflict—no matter what it costs us.”
“They spoke to me, too.” Peters sounded oddly subdued. “Kevizhtim … Kevin. I’m going to call the weird bug thing Kevin, damn it, because today’s been hard enough without a sore throat. Kevin’s pitch to me was different from what he said to Mary. Vaguer, and—more personal. He asked a lot of questions about how our team works together.”
The van rattled over a series of potholes. For a minute it was too loud to talk. Faces flickered under the streetlights. Rain blurred the world beyond and lensed strange patterns across our skin. The swift intermissions of bright and shadow interfered with my night vision, making everyone seem half-invisible.
“What did you tell him?” asked Barlow.
“He asked what I thought of our fish—of these guys here. Mr. Marsh’s people. I told him they were strange, but Americans like us.” He inclined his head toward me. “I’m not about to air our differences to a bunch of bugs. I don’t think they have the best interests of anyone on this planet at heart. Not even the Reds.”
Every ti
me Peters spoke, I felt a surge of disgust. His half-swallowed epithet, the way he dismissed attacks and accusations as “differences,” even the way he insisted on addressing whichever of us he found least discomfiting regardless of seniority, galled me. Yet he’d assumed that in this thing we might be allies. I hoped he couldn’t see my cheeks burn in the darkness.
It was a long ride. Barlow and Spector circled the question of the Outer Ones, wearing tracks in the conversation. Europe had taught them both how little sway the weak had over deals with the powerful—and what happened to those who tried to stay independent while their neighbors dealt with power. In what they didn’t say, I heard the fear that this greater power might trip the wire-thin balance between human states.
I cared about those states only for their influence over Innsmouth. America was younger than Archpriest Ngalthr, the USSR younger than me, and we’d likely outlive both countries. S’vlk, born before such boundaries were ever set and accustomed to the deep waters that no military dared claim, might easily forget their existence in a few millennia. She’d remember them, though, if their conflict was the one that brought humanity low.
On my first visit to Coney Island, looking back over the park, I’d thought that New York wore a glamour of impossible permanence. But in the bright-lit darkness, with the city towering rain-cloaked and ghostly around me, the end was easy to imagine. Humanity would pass from the land like any other species, leaving behind only the cities of the water. Extinction, now or in a million years, was inevitable. And not only for humanity. The lobsters flooding our beach at low tide, the dogs and horses that shied from our presence, the frogs trilling in the bogs, and the moths that swarmed our candles would all be gone, replaced with forms as strange as any Outer One.
As long as the oceans survived, the Chyrlid Ajha would adapt. Our pets and predators, our beasts of burden, would not. We will be lonely.
To me, that was the true heart of the Outer Ones’ allure. S’vlk’s daughter might have given up millions of years of life and the comfort of her own people. She’d also walked away from that loneliness, and left behind all mourning embodied in the clenched gut and the burn of tears. I wouldn’t make that trade willingly, but I wanted to go into the ocean knowing that life still thrived on land. I wanted to watch my friends and family grow there, for as long as they could. I wanted to avoid the loneliness for as long as possible.
Deep Roots Page 19