“Do you mean that?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Des nodded slowly, turned back to the road, and started driving again. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, emotionless. “Then you can hold on a few minutes. I need to do something first.”
We fell quiet for a while, and I slipped in and out of a dozing sleep. The rumbling road beneath me was like a cheap massage on my aching muscles. I’d escaped death again, at least for a little while. But I could feel it in my gut now, I could feel the poison in me.
I opened my eyes as Desmond pulled up outside his place, one of a dozen apartments in a gated complex near Lavender Park. He turned around and leaned over the seat.
“You still alive?”
I grinned. “Barely.”
He didn’t smile back. “I need to get Lucetta out of town. They’ll be gunning for her. I’m going to run inside to grab my bug-out bag and let Rob know I’ll be gone for a few hours.”
“Don’t tell him about all the wild hijinks I got you into,” I said. “He dislikes me enough as it is.”
“I’ll be back in a minute. Stay put.”
“Don’t worry, Des. I’ll look after your girl here.”
“Somehow,” Lucetta said, “I think I’ll be looking after you.”
Desmond and Lucetta shared a knowing look, then Des got out of the car and jogged inside. I stretched out as far as I could in the backseat and tried to arrange my shoulder so it didn’t feel like it was being poked with rusty nails.
“So, I got a question,” I said. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
Lucetta stared out the side window. Even after all the hell we’d just been through, she didn’t so much as tremble. “I told you who I am.”
“No, you told me your name. The look on Bohr’s face back there when he saw you, I thought his eyeballs were going to pop. Were you and he a thing?”
She bared her teeth in a wild grin and croaked out what passes for a laugh among Vei. “A thing? With that man?” She laughed again. “I was his lab assistant.”
“That’s some handy shooting for a lab assistant.”
“I’ve been more than a lab assistant in my life, Franco.” She turned in her seat to face me. “You don’t understand how desperate they are, do you? How far they’re willing to go.”
I glanced at Claudia’s ghost standing outside the car, looking in at me. “I’ve got a fair idea.”
“You’ve only seen a fraction of their work. A microsecond. Bohr, Kowalski, the others, they’ve been working on this for twenty years. And for a while, I was with them. I saw the potential in what they were doing. You cannot comprehend it, human.”
“You’d be surprised what I can comprehend. Spill the beans. Tell me what was so great about their little research group.”
“You’ve read the papers they put out?”
I retrieved the crumpled articles from my jacket pocket. “I’ve skimmed them. Theories on parallel worlds, reflections, alternate universes. Equations that suggest the potential for infinite worlds. But it’s all numbers and guesswork.”
“Not all,” Lucetta said. “Not all. That—” She gestured dismissively at the papers. “—that is mostly Kowalski’s trash. Bohr was the driving force, the one who actually understood. He was the one with the ideas, the math that made it all fit together. He worked out that weak Tunnels, unstable Tunnels, could be used to get data on the other worlds. When the Tunnel is unstable, hints and whispers of the other universes can be transmitted. The information was a mere echo of an echo. The scientific community rejected it, of course. But I was there. I saw the data. And now the truth is finally coming to light.”
I thought back to last winter, when I got caught in a collapsing Tunnel. When the link to Earth was severed, the Tunnel recoiled like a stretched string, all the walls losing their tension. And through them came other feelings, other things. It was there I first felt the raging heart of Limbus, first began to learn how to open a new kind of Tunnel. It made sense that if a dumbass like me could pull that kind of information out of a broken Tunnel, some interdimensional physicists might be able to do the same. But there was something in the twitch of Lucetta’s wide mouth that told me that wasn’t the whole story.
“Out with it, then,” I said. “What’d Bohr do?”
She bared her teeth. “It wasn’t what he did. It was what the others did. Kowalski and a few others slowly became isolated from the rest of the group. They stopped sharing their results with the others. Bohr and I didn’t care. We had our own work to do, and we were finally managing to piece together solid evidence of a few of the strongest worlds. Nearly enough to go public with.”
“But?”
“But Bohr and I were working late one night. Bohr heard the noise. He has the ears of an airsnake. The sound came from Kowalski’s lab. Scuffling, shuffling, like your mice. Then shouting in Vei. ‘Khrah,’ someone was saying.”
“Help,” I translated, my guts feeling cold. But it didn’t mean quite the same thing in Vei as in English. It wasn’t a word you used everyday, like, “Hey man, help me shift this couch.” No, it was more like, “Help, I’m getting my eyes gouged out and it really hurts.”
Lucetta must’ve seen something in my face, because she nodded and her eyes narrowed into slits. “Bohr and I were supposed to be the only Vei in the building. We ran into Kowalski’s lab. His little group was there, including the lab’s main Tunneler. And an old Vei woman, ugly, so weathered she was starting to form scales on her face. She shouted once more through the gag. Then Kowalski pushed her into the Tunnel in the center of the floor. And the Tunneler severed the link with the woman still inside.”
I swallowed. To die with reality collapsing around you, to fall into the emptiness between worlds… “You’ve got some sadistic colleagues. I’d bring that up with HR.”
“Vei minds operate differently to humans’. They are guided by and projected onto the world around them. It’s partly what shapes Heaven. Kowalski discovered that if a Vei was in the Tunnel when it collapsed, the signal from the other worlds was magnified. Superb resolution. Massively amplified. They’d begun to discover the power of the other worlds. And they’d nearly worked out how to get a Tunnel there. But when Bohr and I stumbled across what they were doing…”
“They didn’t take kindly,” I finished for her.
“They had it all worked out. They already had their scapesheep—”
“Goat,” I said. “Scapegoat.”
“Sheep, goat, what does it matter? It was easy for them to make it look like Bohr had done it all. All their records were under his name. His own research used data Kowalski had gathered with his experiments. They’d planted evidence through his lab, his home, even on him. He could never get rid of it all. And they knew his politics wouldn’t get him any sympathizers.”
“Let me guess: he was one of those Legalize Marijuana activists.”
“He was a Stabilist. He thought he could use Earth’s stability to soothe the chaos in Heaven.”
I’d heard about those guys, but I always thought they were just bogeymen made up by politicians to scare the general public, like debt-ceilings and Communists. Changing the nature of a world wasn’t something to do lightly. I had my doubts that Heaven could even survive having a more logical reality forced on it. At the very least, all the flying cities would be destroyed, along with half the wildlife and some of the more M.C. Escher-esque geographical landmarks. There were downsides to living in a world governed by randomness, but the cure would almost certainly be worse than the disease.
“So you guys ran for it?” I asked.
Lucetta nodded. “Kowalski and his friends drove us into hiding. I’ve stayed with Bohr for years, following him everywhere.”
“I bet you won’t be following him anymore. Shooting his pals and busting me out probably got you crossed off the Christmas card list.”
“I didn’t see it for a long time, how much the exile damaged him. Bohr has always been eccentric, and the darkne
ss came over him so gradually. But this, this murder and kidnapping…”
“Tell me something,” I said. “Did Bohr kill my friend? Did he poison her with the fluid from Tartarus?”
Lucetta shook her head slowly. “No. We haven’t been able to make our own Tunnel to Tartarus.”
I looked in her eyes and I believed her. Cross that name off my list.
She opened her mouth again. “But he would have if he could,” she said. “He’s not the same man anymore.”
“None of us are,” I said. “One last thing. The fluid. What does it do?”
“I do not know. Bohr, he refused to tell me. Refused to tell everyone. He just said it would change our fortunes.” She looked away. “I am sorry, Miles Franco.”
I sighed and settled back down. I was getting sleepy again. “S’okay. Thanks for saving my ass.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“That doesn’t make my ass any less grateful.”
Desmond emerged from his home and trotted back to the car, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He opened the door and glanced at the two of us, frowning slightly, then tossed the bag in next to me and started the car without a word.
The road became smoother the closer to the central city we got. When I got home I was going to sleep for a day. Then I was going to find out everything I could about Daniel Bohr and the Collective and Kowalski and everyone else I could tie into this mess. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Desmond for help.
The sky was growing dark by the time Desmond pulled up outside my apartment building. Lucetta hadn’t said another word and Desmond hadn’t even turned on the radio, so it wasn’t the friendliest trip ever. I sat up, wincing at the pain, and opened the car door. “Thanks for the getaway, Des.”
“Wait a minute.” He glanced at Lucetta. “I’ll just be a second.”
He jerked his head at me and got out of the car. I followed him to the steps outside my apartment building. Something in his expression told me I should wait for him to speak first.
“You know how long it took to get in contact with someone in the Collective, guy?” Des said after a while. “It took me weeks to turn Lucetta. She could’ve helped the cops break their whole ring.”
“Jesus, Des, I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Of course not. You never do anything on purpose, do you? Do you have any idea how messed up you look right now?”
I shrugged. “Sorry I don’t meet your aesthetic standards.”
“Vivian said you’re sick. Dying.”
Goddamn it. Why did everyone feel the need to gossip behind my back? “It’s nothing.”
“You need lessons in lying, guy. Seriously.”
“Leave it, Des.” I crossed my arms, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.
He brushed the hair out of his eyes. His mouth formed a tight line. “Don’t do this. Let me take you to the hospital. We’ll work this out together.”
“No.”
“Miles…”
“I said no. You can’t help me. I have to finish this. Go home.”
Over on the sidewalk, a pigeon cooed. The last rays of sunlight dipped below the skyline. And Desmond’s fist collided with my face.
My jaw didn’t dislocate this time, but the pain still tore through my cheek and sent me reeling backward. I stumbled and fell, landing ass-first on the concrete. I was too stunned to do anything but swear.
“Son of a bitch!” I rubbed my chin and stared up at Desmond. He loomed over me, the skin grazed over one of his knuckles.
“You stupid, selfish piece of shit,” he said, his voice trembling to match his hands. “Fuck everyone, huh? Fuck me, fuck Vivian, fuck Tania. You wanna die? Then go die. Just don’t pull us down with you.” He threw up his hands and turned his back. “I’m done.”
I watched, still in a daze, as he walked back to the car and climbed in. Lucetta glanced at me through the window, but I couldn’t read her expression. Then my friend started his car and pulled away.
I sat on the sidewalk for a few minutes. I didn’t think. I didn’t feel. I was already a ghost. For the first time since this began, I wanted to see Claudia. Even if she was a hallucination, even if she was a manifestation of my guilt, she’d become a sort of comfort. But she was nowhere to be seen. I was alone.
The streetlights came on, casting an orange glow across the twenty-year-old cars that lined the street. A couple of pedestrians hurried past, glancing at me out of the corners of their eyes, but no one stopped to talk. Even the stray cats seemed wary of me.
Time to get up, Miles. I planted my hands on the ground and pushed myself to my feet. The handcuff bracelet jingled as I moved. Everything swayed like I’d had too much to drink, and something bubbled in the depths of my gut. I fished my keys out of my pocket and slowly made my way inside. With a deep breath, I started up the nine flights of stairs to my apartment. No one met me on the way. A handful of empty beer bottles sat huddled in the corner of the stairwell on the fifth floor, like they were taking a rest before they made the last journey to the summit. I kept going.
I was a zombie by the time I hit the ninth floor. The world slid in and out of focus. Someone had made gray soup out of my brains. I didn’t even feel scared when I realized the door to my apartment was ajar.
My hands went to my pockets and came to rest on the nearly empty bottle of Kemia. Probably pointless. Hell, I didn’t think I even had the energy to open another Pin Hole right now. But old habits, and all that.
I nudged the door open with my foot. It creaked on its hinges. A warm breeze blew over me. The window on the far side of the apartment was open, the curtains dancing in the wind. There was enough light seeping in to illuminate the carnage, but I flipped on the light switch anyway.
I could only conclude that the place had been hit by a herd of wild bulls with bombs strapped to them. My TV lay on the floor with a hole in the screen, spewing glass across the room. Someone had taken a knife to my couch and turned it inside out. The only thing on my wall—a poster from the horror flick Army of Darkness, complete with the chainsaw-armed Ash and a buxom love interest—was torn in half, the bulk of it curled up on the floor. About the only thing I could see that was still upright was my fishbowl. Munsey and Frank swam around in little circles, seemingly unconcerned by the invasion of their home. I envied them.
Going room-to-room didn’t take long, because my bedroom and bathroom were the only things in my apartment that could reasonably be called rooms. The window by the fire escape was shattered. I could make out where shoes had ground little fragments of glass into the carpet. The mattress of my bed was sliced open, with the springs exposed. Whoever had come had really gone to town on the place. But now, there was no one left but me.
I stared around, dumbfounded. Who’d done this? Vandals? Kids? Yeah, right. My luck wasn’t that good. Was this just another message? They hadn’t stolen…
My gaze flicked to my set of drawers. The invaders had pulled out all the drawers and upended them across the room, but the hole wasn’t exposed. Maybe…
I put my good shoulder against the dresser and shoved. The dresser seemed heavier than it had been before, even with no drawers in it. I heaved again, and it scraped along the carpet. There. I dropped to my knees and stuck my hand in the hole in the drywall. Come on.
My fingers touched plastic. They hadn’t found it. Something let go of my chest, and I could breathe again. I pulled out the plastic container and opened it. The fluid still sloshed about inside, swirling like something halfway between liquid and gas.
“Is this what you’re after, you sons of bitches?” I murmured. No one answered.
I couldn’t leave it here. They’d come back, sooner or later. I tucked the container under my arm and made my way to the bathroom. Paper and glass and plastic crunched beneath my shoes as I walked. But light-headedness hit me again. My intestines slithered and squirmed like a pit of snakes. The room swayed, and I collapsed to my side. Bile spilled up the back of my throat.
&
nbsp; I managed to crawl to the toilet bowl before my insides clenched and the contents of my stomach came roaring out my mouth. Acid burned my nose. It felt like someone was trying to push my eyes out from the inside. Vomit splashed into the toilet water. I had a moment’s reprieve before the stench hit me and I was hurling again.
It was worse than anything I’d had from too much beer and whiskey. For one thing, I was sober, but there was something else. It was like my soul was trying to escape a failing body. But every time a new wave swept over me, only acid and half-digested food got out. No, not just that. I blinked away the water pooling in my eyes and saw the streaks of dark red against the white toilet bowl. Blood.
Slowly—I’m talking glacial speeds—the nausea subsided, and I was left feeling even more drained than before. I closed my eyes. I wanted to curl up on the tiles and rest, or sleep, or die, whatever happened first. There wasn’t any point doing anything else. Tartarus had poisoned me, and there was no antidote. I was already dead. I just needed to stop walking around.
But when I opened my eyes, Claudia was crouching beside me. She was wearing the same dress she’d been wearing in my dream, right down to the hoop earrings. She smiled at me.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, with my mouth smooshed against the floor. “You’re like the world’s most persistent stray dog. I can’t even quit now?”
She shook her head.
I sighed. “You’re a bad influence. I should tell Desmond it’s your fault I keep getting into this crap.”
I grabbed hold of the toilet and hauled myself up. It would’ve taken less energy to KO an elephant. The bathroom still swayed, but if I kept my legs spread and braced myself against the sink, I could manage. I flushed away the blood-streaked vomit and washed out my mouth with water.
Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror, and I nearly started spewing again. At first, I thought some hideous, skeletal figure had crept into the apartment and hidden behind the mirror. But no, that was me. Even if my skin had turned a bluish-gray hue and my eyes were sunken in their sockets, that was me. Little red spiderwebs grew in patches beneath the skin of my face and hands. Dried blood had accumulated around my wounded ear, and I’d picked up a whole host of new scrapes and bruises. My jaw was swollen where Stretch had dislocated it. I looked worse than Penny Coleman had on her deathbed.
The Man Who Walked in Darkness (Miles Franco #2) (Miles Franco Urban Fantasy) Page 17