Rebirth (Cross Book 1)

by Hildred Billings

  If it were only an issue of mind over matter, Devon could pull through for three minutes. However, this was an issue of matter over mind. Devon needed to stop his brain long enough to get his limbs moving, and that was far from easy.

  “Come on!” Danielle lugged him, one hesitant step at a time, to Marlow’s office. “You can do this. Marlow!” Her voice echoed through the airy chambers.

  The old man appeared before Danielle’s voice could go hoarse alongside her aching shoulder blade. Marlow took one look at the situation and gestured toward the couch near his desk. He bade Danielle to leave Devon there while he disappeared into a back room.

  Devon’s moans subsided long enough for Danielle to dump him. Charlie poked his nose out from beneath Marlow’s desk and whimpered in Devon’s direction, but did not approach.

  “Here, take this.” Marlow said, shoving a soft strap into Danielle’s hand. “Tie up his arms. I’ll get his legs. It’s going to be ugly.”

  “Wait, what? What’s happening?”

  Marlow shoved Devon’s feet into the couch. After removing the shoes, Marlow tied the first strap around Devon’s right ankle. “He’s regressing.”

  “Meaning…”

  “He’s going into severe memory shock. He’ll remember everything about his first life by the time the night is through.”

  “What?”

  “The moment he officially slips, he’ll be mad.” Marlow heaved himself back up. “I know that tying him up seems barbaric, but it’s for everyone’s protection.”

  Danielle hesitated before bending over Devon. His eyes were still shut, his teeth also locked together as his tongue fought to scream. The guttural noises in his throat made Danielle’s stomach queasy. She sucked in her breath and found enough strength to pick up his left hand and tie it to a metal bar behind the sofa. The other strap covered his right wrist and his tattoo before joining the left arm on the bar.

  “Make sure the knots are tight. If he has a violent reaction, he could throw himself off the couch and physically hurt himself.”

  Marlow finished tying his knots and inspected Danielle’s before summoning Charlie. The small dog trotted over from his spot beneath the desk, Marlow commanding him to stand guard. “He’ll bark if Sonall goes into shock,” the old man explained.

  Danielle succumbed to her devout irritation. “Devon. His name is Devon.”

  Yet Marlow could only return an exasperated sigh. “Soon, it won’t be.”

  Gulping down her bile, Danielle turned away. “Then what? Is he regressing to Sonall, and won’t remember anything from this life?”

  “No. It doesn’t work that way.” Marlow leaned against his cane. “Devon is in the process of re-awakening as Sonall. That means he is reacquiring the memories he would’ve had if he never died. It’s a painful process, since his spirit is forcing itself to reconcile with its past.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  Marlow frowned. “You must go through it as well.”

  “Hell, no.” Danielle made a fist. “Why would I let myself be subjected to…” She pointed at Devon’s shuddering body. “I don’t want to remember. I can do this job without remembering anything. Look how far we have come!”

  Marlow said nothing. He crept back to his desk, a sigh exhaling from his stomach.

  “Fifty times,” Marlow whispered. “Sonall has returned fifty times. Sulim, however, has never returned.”

  “What?”

  “Out of ninety-seven previous lives, Sonall has regressed fifty times. You, however, have yet to once.”

  “So he’s more prone to it.”

  “You’re repressing something beyond my force. I don’t know what it is you’re trying to keep forgotten, but your anger, your hard will, and maybe even your unhappiness will be alleviated if you let your soul repair itself.”

  Within seconds, Devon hurled his head back in agony, blood dribbling from his mouth as his teeth gnashed flesh.

  Danielle kneeled beside the couch, Charlie scooting out of the way with a whimper. She pulled out a small tissue from her pocket and dabbed the blood running down Devon’s chin. His body stilled beneath her touch.

  “Sulim…” he mumbled. “Sulim, don’t go…”

  Danielle retracted her hand. “Nobody’s going anywhere, Devon.”

  “Please wait a while longer… don’t go back… they’re waiting for you. You’ll put us all in danger.”

  Danielle leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his side. “Please snap out of this.”

  He screamed. Danielle recoiled, ears pierced from the shrill sound.

  “It’ll be over in a few hours,” Marlow said. “I’m going to call someone who might be able to help him when he wakes up.” Marlow retreated to his library before he was subjected to more cries of a dying man.

  Because that’s what Devon was – dying. In those moments, when he relived his first death all over again, Danielle crossed her arms against the edge of the sofa and buried her face within them. She couldn’t fathom why she should willingly go through the same thing.

  ***

  After another hour of witnessing Devon scream, thrash, and blubber in tongues, Danielle retreated to the far edge of Marlow’s hideout, where she watched the largest pendulum swing. In the distance, Devon’s moaning sounded like the bells of war. Eventually, he passed out, his wrists and ankles raw from the straps rubbing against his skin.

  Although she sat in a makeshift clock, there was no sense of time. She wanted to go home, to crawl back into bed and forget this, but she couldn’t abandon Devon. She would wait a whole day if she had to. If this came to an end in their favor, Danielle considered taking all her vacation days and becoming a hermit with a cabin in the woods.

  “Such unhappiness never suited you well.”

  The sound of Devon’s low voice startled her.

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  He sat next to her while Danielle continued to stay inside her own bubble. How were they supposed to interact now that Devon was someone else? Could she even call him Devon now? Was he the same man she slept with the night before? The same one who dated Alicia? “You’ve got that ‘I can’t control anything’ look on your face. You’re unhappy,” he said.

  This change in vocal tone was… unnatural. Was he forcing it, or had his body accommodated his own inflections as well? “So is that it?” she asked. “Are you done regressing? To whom am I speaking?”

  He chuckled; Danielle grimaced. “Don’t worry, it’s still me.” He shrugged. “I’m still Devon. And no, I don’t think I’m done. I feel like there’s still more for me to remember, slowly.”

  “Oh.” His renewed silence unnerved her. “What’s it like, then?”

  “Weird. When it was happening, though, it was terrifying.”

  “I heard.”

  “I knew you were there,” he continued, “but I couldn’t do anything, because I kept blipping into this weird consciousness with crazy memories. Like a sledgehammer to the brain.”

  “You were screaming a lot.”

  Devon frowned. “There was a lot to scream about.”

  “So now what? You’re Sonall again?”

  For the first time since sitting down, Devon gave her a long, steady look. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Danielle pried her own away from fear of seeing something in Devon’s eyes she didn’t want to yet see. Bad enough his eyes were outlined in the tired red of spent tears. “He’s there… well, I’m there. It’s the strangest part of it. I feel like I never died, although I can remember dying. There was the life I lived before, but then I slipped into a coma. Before, I was Sonall, and now I am Devon. It sounds complicated, I know, but it really doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Tell me something you remember.”

  Devon hesitated. “When I was kid back then, I used to put sap on my sister’s hair ribbons. I thought it was funny how it made her hair tangle.”

  “You had a sister…”

  The smile on Devon’s face turned into a frow
n once again. “Yeah. Graella. I think I mentioned her as a possibility before, but now I know for sure. I think I suppressed my memories of her because she didn’t make it.”

  “Make what?”

  Another hesitation. “Being a mercenary. She killed herself after we were kidnapped.”

  “Oh. Suppose that’s something I should remember, huh?”

  Devon couldn’t move. Too tired. Too achy from the hell he had been through. “It’s weird. I remember her now, but even though it’s so clear to me, it still feels like a dream. I wish I could cry about it like I used to in that life.”

  “I wish I could say I know how you feel, but apparently I’m not ready yet.”

  “That’s fine. I wouldn’t wish this on anybody. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I should be asking you that.”

  The smirk on Devon’s face now was more like the man she knew. “I think so. I’ve already talked to Marlow, and he said I could stay here tonight so I won’t be alone in case I slip again. You could probably go home if you want.”

  Danielle sighed. “What if this is all over soon, and I don’t remember anything?

  “But didn’t you say you don’t want to remember?”

  “I don’t know. A part of me feels like I shouldn’t have to remember, but the other part feels left out, I guess.”

  Devon put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll remember at your own pace. I may not have known your private life well, but… I think you had a life worth remembering.”

  “Tell me something about me.”

  Devon averted his eyes from the gaze she sent him. “I don’t know. I don’t think that would be my place.”

  “Please.”

  He bit his lip before looking away again. “You had this quirk. Whenever we would go out on a mission, you wouldn’t cut your hair until we came back.” Devon lowered his hand from her shoulder. “I used to mention it, but you would never tell me why. The other women were the opposite of you. They wanted long hair, but it got in the way of being a mercenary.”

  “Yeah, that is rather weird.”

  Devon stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of his pants. “Let’s go see if Marlow’s friend has shown up yet. He’ll be happy to know we’re both doing okay so we can get back to saving the planet.”

  Danielle scoffed. “Sure. Save the planet. Just as soon as we try to get our shit together and pull our spirits back into place, right?” Her smile got a laugh out of Devon, but the moment he turned around, she frowned again. Hearing him talk about his past life reminded her of nothing but her unfathomable loneliness.

  ***

  Shit hurt.

  For the past hour, Miranda was stuck in bed, the first headache coming shortly after another slice of birthday cake. At first, she hoped she would pass out before the first wave of pain came. Yet once her brain exploded in her fragile cranium, she whimpered, unable to get her body to release any further energy.

  Nothing but pain.

  Miranda could not move. Would not move. Anyone walking into her bedroom would assume she had passed out and gone into a fitful sleep. Yet she writhed in her mind, more awake than ever. Solemn tears formed, but she could not cry.

  She thought of her, embracing her, the scent of sweat lingering in her hair. She wished she could scream. She wished she could die.

  The best she could do was will herself to sleep. Her breathing slowed. She slipped away, her lip trembling while the first memory tarnished her mind. Until her subconscious released her physical shell and went to another plane of thought to fight the mental warfare occurring in her cursed brain, she was a slave to the self-flagellation she had unleashed upon her soul.

  Syrfila entered. She didn’t need to see the contents of Miranda’s brain to know what was happening. After all, there were chocolates and hedpahzikin drops on the kitchen counter downstairs. Between that and the sight before her, Syrfila could quickly surmise that some spiritual shit was afoot.

  THIRTY

  Usually, this late into the night, Marlow would resign himself to another fit of restless sleep. He wouldn’t stay up researching shit he didn’t know how to research.

  “Make sure you get me access to those files by tomorrow, then,” he told his assistant, Lanelle, before she jetted off for her lonely apartment. The only reason she answered her boss’s summons this late was because she was the only other person Master Ramaron Marlow put into the Process, and the only one who could give Devon tips on how to manage the physical aftermath of regression. “If Terra III doesn’t fully comply, tell them Earth is roasting. That should get their asses moving.”

  Lanelle yawned on her way through the door, her own black butterfly tattoo burning against her wrist. She was too tired to care.

  She was barely gone for two minutes before something – or someone – thumped in the near distance.

  With both Devon and Danielle accounted for in the other room, Marlow’s heart jumped into his throat. Charlie must have felt the same way, for he leaped up from his bed and barked at the footsteps, as if his little voice could ward off a trespasser.

  “Who’s there?” Marlow called. “Where are you?”

  The footsteps were gone. Even Charlie gave up and trotted back toward his bed of blankets beneath Marlow’s desk.

  And promptly stopped to growl at a shadow in the corner.

  “Who is it?” Why had this man never studied transformative magic? Now would be an excellent time to turn someone into a frog. Or a chicken.

  Someone stole an apple from the humble fruit basket near Marlow’s desk. Always carefully stocked with some of Evan’s favorite Earth-based delicacies. Like bananas.

  “No one of consequence.”

  When Syrfila stepped out, taking a bite of fresh apple, Marlow’s chances of having a heart attack increased.

  “Good fucking Void,” he spat in Basic. “You realize that this office is connected to the gubernatorial headquarters of the Federation on Terra III, right? Do you want to get caught?”

  “I don’t like coming here anymore than you like me being here, but I’ve got a bit of a favor to ask.”

  “Favors.” How quickly could Marlow alert the authorities? Well, at least he could be responsible for taking down one of the most wanted criminals in the known universe. “Help you? Why would I? You’re working for Nerilis.”

  “Yeah, and this is how he treats us.” Syrfila pointed to the present she left on the couch.

  Unlike Devon had been, however, this woman was still unconscious. “Who is that?” Marlow asked. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s a colleague of mine. She knows Dunsman.”

  “Leave. Both of you.”

  “Dunsman did that to her. He poisoned something she ate. Can you cure it?”

  “I don’t know. Get out.”

  Syrfila continued to eat her apple. “This isn’t about me. It’s about her. You’re the only person I can think of that can help bring her out of whatever trance she’s in.”

  “Trance?” His curiosity getting the best of him, Marlow hobbled to the couch where Miranda lay. Her body was stiff, but she breathed.

  But it was her eyes that unsettled half the room. They were wide open, pried apart by Syrfila earlier when she assessed the damage. But was there life in those eyes? No. They stared at the gaping maw of reality, but there was nothing for the Void to gaze back into. Marlow knew of no one who slept like that.

  “She must be in some intense pain to tune out like that.” This was the kind of trance only seen in pockets of the Federation. The effects of hedpahzikin, the liquidized form of hedpah leaves. An extreme form of therapy for those dealing with PTSD and…

  Regression.

  Syrfila shrugged. “Told you, not sure. Whatever Dunsman suggested she take must be fucking her up. At least tell me what he did.”

  “It reminds me of a comatose sleep spell.” Marlow fluffed the remnants of the beard he attempted to futilely grow. “It’s used on amnestic patients, since it forces the
brain to access its memory banks and pull up idle information. It’s mostly harmless, though. I don’t know why she would be feeling pain, unless Nerilis poisoned-poisoned her as well.”

  “Sounds like something you would give one of your kids.”

  Marlow grumbled, “Like I told you, this kind of trance can only be achieved through a sheer will often not seen in any normal human. The only reason to go into this type of trance is to avoid feeling pain.”

  “Physical or otherwise?”

  “Physical, usually.” Marlow glared at his trespasser once more. “Who is this woman?”

  “A colleague of mine. She’s an Earthling, though. Her ancestors are probably hangzins.” Marlow cocked his head at this mention of an ancient race colonizing Earth thousands of years ago, in an era even before Marlow’s long and tired existence. “She knows one of your kids, actually. The female one. She’s her boss.”

  “Why do you tell me this?”

  Syrfila laughed. “Shits and giggles. Thought you might find it funny.”

  “There’s something else you’re not telling me,” Marlow continued.

  By now, Syrfila sat on the other edge of the couch, her legs close to Miranda’s. “Me? Yeah, right. You gonna help her or not? That’s why I brought her here.” She bit into the last of her apple. “Wasn’t easy, either. Had to recalibrate my own fucking DNA to get my tattoo to take me to my boss’s BFF. You guys don’t fuck around with your inter-dimensional pockets.”

  Marlow’s chest puffed out as he used his cane to steady himself. “I’ve got something in my library that should help her wake up faster. You stay here.”

  Before Syrfila could protest, Marlow thumped down the hall to the library, leaving her behind in one of the more sensitive areas of his office.

  “What kind of shit does an old sorcerer keep around his shack, anyway?” Syrfila looked at the desk with its small but sleek computer sitting atop it like a futuristic toaster oven. “Besides really sweet hardware. I do miss the technology.” She tip-toed to the other end of the desk and gauged whether Marlow would return from the library soon. “Nuclear weapons, eh?”