Sombre

  She considered Parker as she watched her new friend read something else and furrow her brow. Sombre was the only reason they were together at all. Through Sombre, was she unwittingly dragging Parker toward their shared death? Suddenly on edge, she pulled at her fingers one by one.

  “Parker, this could kill us. You know that don’t you.”

  The two set off again.

  “Yeah, I know,” the older girl frowned. “But you know, so what? What the hell can we do about it? We can’t stop sleeping, we can’t stop dreaming. We can either be chickenshit and lose our minds like Jerry, or we can just strap ourselves in and take the ride – ride it like a couple of hellhounds.” She gave Hope a wink, “at least we’ll be doing it together.”

  Hope gushed. Then she grinned, baring full teeth. Parker recoiled comically at the sight of it. “Jesus, that was a bit mad to look at, Hope! Not used to seeing you smile like that. Got quite the full set of choppers there, haven’t ya!”

  “Yes …” was all Hope could say as she shut her mouth like a trap door. She pressed a finger to her lips.

  Parker laughed, “It’s alright, Hope! It’s a compliment! Julia Roberts has big teeth and a big mouth. She’s the Pretty Woman, Hope! She smiles away like the Joker! She’s beautiful!”

  “Hmm … Julia Roberts, right.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Believe it, Hope Kelley. You are much prettier than you think, that’s why I told you to dump the specs …”

  Parker’s phone pinged, she read the message, “Right, Josh is on his way. We’d better start heading back toward yours’. Make sure you thank your parents for me. I would like to say I’ll be returning the favor sometime soon, but don’t hold your breath. Mum couldn’t organise a fire in a matchstick factory.”

  As the two girls entered Hope’s street, Josh Wright’s noisy ride turned the corner, exhaust grumbling, obligatory death metal roaring through open windows.

  “Turn that shit down, Josh!” Parker ran across the nature strip and yelled through the passenger window. The electric windows were rolled up and the music continued to pulverize the drivers senses.

  “God he’s a dickhead,” Parker said as she returned to say her goodbyes. She smiled and took Hope in an embrace.

  “I cuddle no one, Hope. But I will cuddle you. Thank you, my geeky badass friend. Have a goodnight. Sleep well.”

  CHAPTER 35

  The Wonder of It All

  ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’.

  After Parker had left, Hope showered and read the final ten chapters with one eye open, determined to finish it. She only had the weekend left to write her paper. After a solid two hours of sluggish reading, the hardcover dropped from the bed to the floor with a heavy ‘thlunk’.

  Hope fell asleep, satisfied and exhausted.

  S

  A new rite of passage.

  Hope saw herself standing on a familiar street corner. Not a corner in Pento. This was Sacramento. She read the signpost, Thistle Grove – the street where she used to live. She gazed down the adjoining Billiton Avenue. The streets were empty. It was late afternoon and hot - what her father called a ‘soft-tar day,’ or ‘daytime in hell’, depending on his mood. She could almost see the road cooking through her foggy lenses. Dressed in cargo shorts and a white singlet, her feet felt glued into the white sandals Kate had picked out for her on a mall run a few weeks back. She appeared to be the only one dumb enough to be out in the heat. Her skin was burning like a bitch. There was only the one excuse for such behavior.

  She was waiting for someone.

  She pulled at her fingers.

  The sound of the shot-to-hell motor was unforgettable, as was the rattling muffler. The 89’ dark green Buick Century turned into Billiton Avenue and moved toward her.

  She could just make out the driver and passenger. She smiled.

  S

  “Oh, my nag, can I just say how impressive a performance it was by me. Now I’m not one to boast unless it is warranted, you know this … needless to say, Hamish is very satisfied,” Halliday chortled to Wilder as she parked the machanihorse at the foot of The Unexplained Mountain. She peered up at The Ruptured Spleen longingly. “Mmm, some liquor is most called for.”

  She hopped down and patted the mare on the rump. Wilder turned her head away, she stood rigid, seething, she knew what was to come later - a drunken master with heavy breath and slurry commands. Holstering her Remington, Halliday left her horse to her own devices and headed toward the elevators.

  The unmistakable rev and rumble of Lucretia St Aimes’ motorcycle entered the parking area. Halliday turned and watched the leather clad, raven haired figure kill the engine and load off her bombastic transport. Wilder had already bolted.

  “Hold the lift, woman.” With a tousle of her hair, Lucretia swaggered toward Halliday. “I’ll be having a drink with you tonight, Halliday. We have things to discuss.”

  “Do we?” Halliday said curious to what the woman could be on about. Halliday pressed the up button and the two ascended the inner of the mountain. Within the flaps of her open leather, she noticed the Death-Witch’s Beating Clock - she’d lost another stroke.

  Lucretia caught her gaze and gave her a bemused look. “It was at Travesty Isle,” her eyes darkened. “Rode my bike straight over one of those vanishing cliffs. Piece of shit of a place …” She put her hands behind her back and pushed back on the elevator wall. “So, I hear you’ve been busy doing some specialist type of work for Sombre.”

  “Of a kind, yes, I have,” Halliday said not entirely sure of how much she should divulge to this woman.

  The elevator ‘pinged’ and the doors opened to the small, familiar foyer of The Ruptured Spleen. The two stepped out; the muffled din of boisterous laughter and clinking glass beyond the twin oak doors promised a large showing of Gatherer’s. Halliday needed her drink rather badly. Orty would want to be on song tonight, she thought to herself. She was confident she wouldn’t be stuck with Lucretia for long, there’d be plenty of chances to wander off and latch onto just about anybody else. She pushed on the door’s lock rails with Lucretia stuck to her shoulder and entered. The Ruptured Spleen was alive and overflowing; smoke filled the air, the musty aroma of bodies, brewed hops and a myriad of distilled tonics bombed the senses.

  Lucretia grabbed her forearm with force.

  “Hey!” Halliday shook it off.

  She grabbed it again and actually pinched her skin.

  “Stop it, you festering, backside-boil of a woman!” Halliday tried pulling her arm away again and regretted it. Lucretia’s thumb and index finger pulled the skin taught in a pincer-like grip. “Ow!” she cried out loud to a few glances from patrons.

  The Death-Witch smiled. “You’re not joining your usual crop of Sombre-sheep until we talk. I’ll have my usual - Orty knows.”

  Halliday wondered what in all of Sombre could be so ruddy important! Ruing the vile woman’s presence on this night, she turned and leant on the bar. She felt Lucretia’s eyes drilling into her back. Rubbing her smarting arm, she ordered. “Orty, my Scotch please, and her usual as well, whatever demonic substance that is.”

  The little bald man nodded and went to work. He rarely spoke did Orty or wore an expression. He was a very efficient bartender though. Drinks were delivered, Halliday skulled her own before she gave Lucretia hers. She slammed the empty tumbler down.

  “Another please Orty.”

  “Here,” she turned and gave Lucretia her Black Russian, thinking it did actually look like it would be worth trying.

  “Many cheers to you Halliday. You are a Gatherer among Gatherer’s. A sublime beauty,” Lucretia sipped her drink and licked her tattooed black lips.

  Halliday reached behind for her second drink. “So, what is all this about Lucretia? Why is it so crucial we talk?”

  The Death-Witch’s face went ridged. “I know what happened at Loew Avion, Halliday. I know you what you did to Guiles.”

  Halliday pressed her glass to her lips. “Who is Guiles.�
�

  “The chosen Ether.”

  “What do you mean, the chosen Ether?”

  “Guiles’ was a waking agent. A figure plucked from the waking world. He was chosen.”

  Halliday shook her head. “No one in Sombre can exist without a Beating Clock, Lucretia. Everyone is reconfigured, you know this!”

  Lucretia gave her a mock expression of shock. “Oh my god! Halliday! I forgot about that! You are such a wise thing, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t laugh at me or there will be fisticuffs – you’ll be on the floor, and I will walk,” Halliday threatened.

  Lucretia didn’t bite back, instead she continued with a grin. “Best you know this, beauty. You didn’t kill Ether, you killed Guiles. Shock! Horror! Ether still exists! The mighty Halliday Knight failed! Ha!” She scoffed then added, “Although you must have done some wonderful work with that Morphia of yours. It would have been a sight to behold. I helped you out there didn’t I. Did you even cost yourself a stroke?”

  Halliday was still amazed at how she had survived the plummet from the flaming skies of Loew Avion – the control she now had over her Morphia was an amazing and wondrous thing. She recalled how her monster had burst through the flaming wreck of the airship and touched down on the tarmac. It was so light-footed, almost cat-like - first the left foot, then the right hand, then right foot to left hand - scampering away from the exploding blanket of falling aircraft like a criminal on the run.

  “No, I didn’t,” she answered.

  “Good for you,” she raised her brow and smiled. “So, Halliday, here’s something you may as well know. Ether also has clock’ wearing agents all over Sombre. And guess who is one of them?”

  “Traitor. I hope you swim in The River soon,” Halliday said.

  “I’m the only Gatherer, mind you. The very first. The second didn’t quite work out …”

  “Andrew Pfeiffer!”

  “Was a frighteningly wonky choice. He was meant to be an easy grab. He floats in The River, I hear?” she said stirring the bottom of her glass with a straw. “But there’ll be more of us taken, mark my words.”

  Halliday drained the balance of her scotch and slammed it down on the bar. “Orty, another of mine, another of hers as well, please. You’re doing well, man. Keep my mix the same! You can spit in hers for all I care!”

  She turned to Lucretia and grinned mischievously, her head starting to get that nice warm feeling. “This is all very interesting. So, in a very round way, what you are saying is that Ether is planning some sort of takeover of Sombre?” she scoffed, “Not bloody likely is it?” She handed Lucretia another Black Russian.

  “I think you’ll find its more likely than you think. Ether is all sorts of persistence and cunning. And it is learning more as time passes. Tell me Halliday, have you ever stopped to think about what all of this means? This nightmare world we exist in. Where it all comes from? Its source?”

  Halliday stifled a gingery burp. “Sombre is Sombre. Sombre is everything, Sombre is everybody and everyone. We live by the strokes on our Beating Clock. When we finish, we float.”

  Lucretia shook her head and lowered her eyes. “That, my pretty thing, is far too simplistic. That is what Hamish will tell you over and over; as he hitches your dress, straightens your pretty face and stitches your gut up. Ether knows of the source of all of this. Ether is a megalomaniac, as much as Sombre is its own megalomaniac. Ether is about change, and it can’t be stopped. We are all tiny little parts in the path of a much bigger process.”

  Halliday began feeling a little sick. She hated this. She needed to move on from this discussion. With a forced snort, she tried to show the woman nonchalance. “Why do I need to know this, Lucretia? If you are just trying to ruin my evening, you are well on your way, witch!”

  She gave Halliday a straight look. “Ether wants you aboard. I don’t know why. It has a use for you.”

  Halliday had heard more than enough. “I work for Sombre. How Sombre is allowing you to function with this split allegiance is beyond my thinking, but I’ve heard enough! You disgust me! This discussion is over – get your own drinks, wretch!”

  Halliday left the bar with the last half of her drink. She pushed passed the very amused Death-Witch and began searching the rest of The Ruptured Spleen. Lucretia called out to her from the bar,

  “That’s what I thought you’d say. Small minded fool that you are. It won’t be stopped!”

  Second-hand tobacco smoke invading her nostrils making her feel even queasier, she spotted Recalcitrance Bexley, skinny cigarette in her fingers. The aviatrix exhaled her own flange of smoke. “Halliday Knight, my warrior! Good to see you! Dave’s here, just in the toilet … oh, you look like my dead mother’s ghost!”

  “The balcony. Let’s have some air,” Halliday said grabbing her by the arm.

  “Oh, okay. But please don’t vomit. It’s such a blight on an evening,” Recalcitrance followed her out. “Busy out here as well,” she said looking at the full tables and benches.

  Halliday leant over the balcony and shut her eyes. “I hate Lucretia.”

  “We all do, my lovely. She is the devils armpit hair,” Recalcitrance rubbed her back with a firm hand. “Dave and myself did notice you speaking with her, and we wondered why? Whatever she said to you to get you into this state, will be the utmost rubbish.”

  Halliday swallowed hard and finished her scotch and dry. “I would like to believe you, Recalcitrance, but I don’t think it was. I wish it was. But I am sure she was speaking the truth.”

  She turned and faced her friend. She spotted Dave inside as he made his way back from the toilet. She was feeling a little better. “I think I need another drink.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you do,” Recalcitrance said and added, “your colour is coming back, let’s see if we still can’t get you all happy, red faced and boot-filled, eh!”

  Dave stepped through the door.

  “David Bi-Plane, this woman needs her Scotch and Dry, and I need another of mine as well,” Recalcitrance said brightly.

  Dave looked Halliday up and down with concern. “Okay, just for you two though, nothing for me. I’ve just been given a mission. You okay, Halliday?”

  Halliday gave him a sad and drunken smile, “getting there, Dave. Getting there … Lucretia St Aimes.”

  “Oh, say no more,” he said. “Back in a minute.”

  “He’s good, is Dave,” Halliday whispered.

  Recalcitrance raised her eyes, “You might want to let him know it sooner or later, Halliday. It would do you both well to clear that air,” Recalcitrance said.

  “I, uh …” Halliday wanted to say something about this, to agree with her good and clever friend, but she was suddenly lost for words.

  She was being watched. The girl stood just inside the bay window of The Ruptured Spleen. It was the brown-haired girl from the airship – Ether’s accomplice. Hair tied in a ponytail, she wore the same jeans and trainers. Looking so out of place it was uncanny. She pulled at her fingers.

  She was so familiar!

  Was she really there at all?

  Her eyes drilled into Halliday’s through a thick lensed pair of glasses.

  S

  Hope woke with a jolt. She sat bolt upright. Blinking fast. She peered around her room. Everything appeared illuminated.

  It was.

  She realized her sight was clear.

  Her sight was clear?

  Her sight was clear!

  “Oh wow! Oh shit!”

  Rubbing her temples, she checked to see if she’d slept with her glasses on. She had, but they weren’t on now. She looked down. The heavy set lay next to her on her sheets, they’d fallen off her face in the night.

  “Jesus …” she uttered, tentatively swinging her legs over onto the floor. She stood, shut her eyes and opened them again. Breathing in deeply and exhaling, a smile slowly formed on her lips. Her vision was brilliant, crystal clear. She had been given a gift. She was truly seeing for the first time. />
  She peered over at her closed bedroom door. There was something else. A dark circular shadow had formed on the white paint.

  “What in the hell?”

  She walked toward it. It was a ghostly stencil of a clock.

  A single hand pointed to the three.

  “Sombre …” she whispered.

  She let the word hang in the air.

  COMING IN 2021…

  SOMBRE

  2

  THE VENTURIST