"Um… how do I get back out?"
"You can't, not on your own. I can bring you back anytime I want. Unless Rem doesn't let me."
"Who—what is he?"
"Well." Snow smiled briefly. "I think I should let him talk about himself. He'll come meet us later. So will Gabriel, when he comes up to HQ. Gabriel is… I suppose I'll start with him. He mentioned he dismissed spirits once, didn't he? That's the tip of the iceberg to what he used to do when he was young, behind his parents' backs. He worked mainly in Lupalia, where black magic is slightly more commonplace, but he was so powerful and well-known that he made more enemies than money. And it's not fun to have enemies, even less so when most of them are idiots who don't know when to back off. By the time Keri was born, his parents were already beyond suspicious, then his mother died and everything got a little too messy to handle, so he moved. To Mernot. Didn't say where he was going, of course, and he made it clear that he didn't want anyone following him, and for a while things settled down. He sacrificed quite a lot for the peace—forged a new identity, pursued new jobs, left behind friends and property. He raised Keri as best as he could. But one person did follow. He—oh."
Someone stepped into the corridor before them, sunshine lighting his hair fiery scarlet before he entered the shade and it turned wine-red. Elstrin's first thought was he was looking at a grown-up version of Vel. The stranger was taller, more built, wore his hair shorter, had a sharp and defined face. He was in a soldier's uniform glinting with little medals; a pair of dog tags glimmered on his chest. His rolled-up sleeves revealed the tattoo of a snake coiled around his forearm. There were smudges of dried blood on the slightly-torn collar of his shirt and the skin of his neck.
He grinned easily. "Hey guys."
"It's good to see you again, Serpent," Snow said.
"For the last time, lieutenant, it's Damien," the man corrected with a roll of his grey eyes. He turned to Elstrin and offered his hand. Elstrin shook it; he had a strong, warm grasp. "Hey. Damien Matthews. Or Colonel Serpent, or almost General Serpent. I think I was like two months away from being promoted. How's my little brother?"
"He's—fine, I guess," Elstrin said, perplexed. Wasn't this guy dead? How the hell—
"Is he still dating Andrew Walker?"
"Er. Yes. He is. How did you know—"
Serpent laughed delightedly, a sound so full of simple joy that some of Elstrin's uncertainty disappeared just from hearing it. "Oh man. I love that kid. He's so fucking patient with Vel it's funny to watch. They should totally get married someday."
Elstrin looked at Snow and muttered, "Are we in Heaven?"
"Oh, no, no," Serpent said quickly before Snow could reply. "I'm just speeding things up a bit here." He gave Snow a stern glance. "Skip the back-story. Nobody cares how many kittens Gabe adopted after moving to Mernot. Point is, he is really fucking powerful. He can pretty much resurrect people, depending on how you define it—but he won't, 'cause he has morals. And there was this one guy, sorcerer, also very powerful, whose wife died of cancer. He's been asking Gabe to bring her back for years. Stalked him all the way to Mernot. And Gabe kept refusing, so this crazy motherfucker goes on a killing spree, chops some people up, tries to frame him for it. Doesn't work. Then he started offing people Gabriel cared about. He got me, a few years ago. Do you understand, Elstrin? He's hoping to kill and kill until Gabe finally cracks and resurrects one of his own friends, because god knows grief is a horrible thing, and then the guy will demand his wife back all over again because he has the proof that it works. I know it's an awful plan. But look at him."
A man appeared beside Serpent. His face was gaunt and lined, his thin hair grey, bloodshot eyes sitting in bruised sockets. His clothes were ratty and torn. But he wasn't stooped over or bony-thin— seemed to be on the edge of it, but his eyes shone with a dangerous, consuming fire, the single-minded intent to do something and keep doing it until he achieved what he wanted or died trying. He stared straight ahead, mouthing silent words to himself, twisting his gnarled hands obsessively. Vel's brother studied him for a while.
"I don't think he can help it," Serpent mused. "It's the only way for him to see his wife again. A fool's hope that it'll work, but he's taking it. It warped his mind, see. He started to hate Gabriel, and he just kept going. He hated everything Gabriel had done, he hated all the black arts that he himself couldn't perform. He hated spirits and wraiths and phantoms. He hated Shades. He hated mediums who talked to the dead. He hated dismissals. What you half a year ago was a dismissal. Get it?"
"So he tried to kill me because I've done black magic… even though I haven't," Elstrin summarised. "And because I'm somewhat connected to Gabriel. Even though I'm not even his friend."
"Bingo," the soldier said, swiping his hand through the projection of the murderer. It vanished. "Everything make sense now?"
"How… how did he kill you?"
"Unpleasantly." Serpent wrinkled his nose.
"I mean—" Elstrin glanced uncertainly at Snow. "Don't you guys all have, um, shields?"
"Oh. Hmm," Serpent mused, drumming his fingers against his chin. He smiled again. "Most of our shields are cut from the barrier, which is graciously supplied by Rem. Let's put it this way: it's
a huge wall, that thing. Sometimes parts of it break before maintenance notices. Simple as that. Now come on. Let's not keep Rem waiting."
He took Elstrin's elbow and steered him forwards. Elstrin looked back; standing innocently behind them was a crumbling stone archway marking the beginning of the previously endless corridor. He turned his eyes ahead again; within easy walking distance was an old wooden door complete with clinging ivy and rusted iron hinges. On the ceiling, the murals seemed dimmer, more crowded.
Snow frowned. "I can't tell—are you actually here? Did Rem call you across or is he making this up?"
"Does it matter?" Serpent said lightly.
"Not really—" Snow began to say, but he stopped short and looked around, alarmed. The air pulsed, a damp, prickly wave of humidity. The sky darkened instantly into flat grey. Something hitched in Elstrin's chest, a strange, metallic jolt, and he gasped and coughed at the sensation. His vision fluttered and stilled again.
Serpent's touch had disappeared. Elstrin glanced around. Everyone was gone.
x
Gabriel liked to follow his gut instincts. They'd literally saved his life a handful of times. He was usually very sensitive to what went on around him, and sometimes to what went on very long distances away from him. So when instinct told him to stop his motorcycle right now, he slammed on the brakes without second thought, skidding to a messy sideways halt in all of two seconds. He had a tiny moment to wonder why he'd just done that when he was supposed to be hurrying up to HQ, then the splitting headache came drilling through his skull and told him everything.
The sorcerer was free.
Free. Escaped. Again. Possibly—very possibly not quite dead and definitely not quite alive, and that complicated things to no end. The agony of having all his wards ripped apart in a second, like having his ribcage pried open by rusty crowbars, was not an acceptable excuse to pause. Gabriel allowed himself a short, involuntary gasp, pure reaction to the pain, then he straightened up, gritted his teeth and revved the engine again. He sped straight home, almost running over several pedestrians on the way. Keri was on the front porch waiting for him, shuffling her feet, face pale.
"Gabe," she whined when he pulled up in front of her, spraying dust everywhere. "What's going on? I feel sick all of a sudden."
"I know, sis, that's my wards on you reacting to my recently-destroyed wards on that zombie motherfucker running around loose right now," Gabriel answered without thinking about his words, putting his helmet on Keri. He lifted her easily onto the seat behind him. "I need to take you to HQ for a bit, it's not safe for you here. Hold on tight, 'kay?"
"Are we going to see Snowy?"
"I am, but you are definitely not," Gabriel said grimly. He started the bike again, and the noise of the
engine drowned out any further attempts at conversation.
x
Snow was gone. Serpent was gone. Elstrin was alone, without any idea of how or when it had happened. He threw up his hands in exasperation, marched to the door and yanked it open, tired of the mind games. If he ended up in a maze next he'd punch something.
It was dark inside, but it seemed to be a friendlier darkness, unlike the fast-approaching shadow gathering along the corridor. Elstrin put his arm through and thought he remembered the feeling of thin sheets of shade breaking apart without pressure. Warm wind gusted from the opening. He stepped in and let the door creak shut.
Immediately, a small fire fluttered to life, revealing a circle of the soft woven rug in front of it, outlining a living room. It grew brighter as he stepped nearer—soon he could see a handsome marble fireplace, bookshelves on either side of it, a couch against one wall, an expensive redwood table on a thick carpet. On the table were a fancy silver pistol, a bowl of gunpowder and a neat row of bullet heads. One of the chairs was pulled out at an angle as if someone had left their work in a hurry. The fire popped and crackled cheerfully. The room had a cosy, welcoming feeling to it; the air smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine needles. Elstrin realised he was back in his uniform. He stepped off the rug, glanced guiltily at the dirty prints his boots left behind, and waited. He felt very out of place.
Nothing happened. He counted to fifty and tried the front door. It was locked. A soft whisper drew his attention back around.
He crossed the room and pressed his ear to one of the two closed doors. Maybe it led to the
kitchen or bathroom or something. It didn't sound like anyone was inside, but after a while he caught another snatch of muted voices that faded in and out. It was almost like listening to a spirit speaking. Speech on top of speech, none of it clear enough for him to understand.
He touched the doorknob and snatched his hand away. Colder than ice. The whispers seemed to grow a notch louder. Elstrin spun around again, convinced that there had been something lurking amongst the quiet shadows of the bookshelves. Unnerved, he stared at the intricate, glossy wood grain of the door and muttered, "Hello?"
A jumbled rush of words. Why are you here—who are—I want my mum—you can fly if you—my brother is dead—
"Hello?" Elstrin said again, quieter, his breath misting the polished surface. "Can you tell me where I am? Where's Snow?"
Snow, the voices sighed. Snow sand dust—their brother is an angel—
No, little boy. Snow is not here—
This is the safe room. Say hello to the fire—
Would you like a glass of milk?
And all at once, the whispers stopped. The door gave a gentle click and swung open to reveal a
neat kitchen. There was a still-steaming pan of water on the stove, some cooking utensils in the sink, and a bowl of half-eaten pasta resting on the counter. It smelled like chilli and tomatoes. A leather jacket was slung messily over the dining table. Elstrin peered in cautiously then stepped back to the living room. This had moved miles beyond creepy. He was so completely wrong in thinking that agreeing to this would make matters easier to understand. He sat down on the pulled-out chair, folded his hands together and contented himself to not moving. Something would happen. Someone would come get him. He was quite certain that if he did anything by himself he'd just make more mistakes.
There was no way to tell the time. The fire didn't seem to ever consume its fuel—it just burnt steadily on. Elstrin studied the flickering yellow flames, bored. He didn't get up to check out the other door. He didn't do anything. Surely—
The floor rumbled, the ceiling lights blinked, and a little stream of dust came trickling down from a crack in the wall. The shiny bullet-heads on the table shuddered then stilled. Elstrin shifted in his seat, reaching for the silver gun. It was heavier and warmer than he expected. He turned to face the closed door and hesitantly pointed the pistol at it. He didn't even know how to use a firearm, but if anything freaky came charging out at him, it was his best defence. Another rumble, harmlessly soft, and the fire let out a brief puff of sparks at the disturbance.
"Hey. Kid."
Elstrin glanced around sharply, eyeing the bookshelves. The back of his neck prickled. The room trembled a third time, dust pooling shallowly on a patch of carpet. The fire flared up and swirled about. He stared at it. It was the fire—it was talking. He opened his mouth hesitantly.
"Hellllo there," the fire drawled. It sounded hoarse and scratchy, its words punctuated every so often with a hiss or a crackle, but was unmistakably male. "Who dumped you here in the safe room? I don't recognise you at all."
"I don't know," Elstrin said. "I don't know what's going on. I—I'm supposed to be meeting Rem. Isn't this his world? Isn't he—creating all this?"
"Rem? If you're in here it means Rem's concentration is nonexistent and he's basically having ten brain aneurysms at once. If you step outside you'll get ripped to shreds. Who brought you here?"
"What? But we were just—" Elstrin walked over and crouched in front of the fire, squinting into
its bright, shifting depths, trying to glimpse the speaker. "Snow did. I think. We were training and he took me to this other version of the field, he said it was a bridge across his consciousness or something—where is he? And Serpent? One moment we were in a garden and then—"
"Kid, I don't know what in Lucifer's name you're talking about. Who is Snow?"
"Lieutenant Snow, my instructor," Elstrin said, frustrated. "I'm a cadet from the Mernot Army— look, can you just tell me what the hell's going on? Something—well, lots of things—really fucked up happened and Snow said coming in here would explain it. Except nobody's fucking here."
"Oh," the fire said understandingly. "So he's called Snow. Okay. Okay, uh, this is really none of my business. My job is to keep you safe until Rem settles down. Put the gun back; it's not a toy."
"You know Rem? What is he? What're you?"
"What I am is not important. Put the gun back."
Elstrin stood and replaced the pistol beside the gunpowder. The house shook again, enough to make the pots and pans in the kitchen jangle lowly. He returned to the rug. "All right. So what is he?"
"I'll tell you if you tell me exactly what's going on where you are."
"I don't know. Apparently there's a crazy sorcerer running around trying to kill people and Snow is sick because of Rem. I just talked to a dead soldier and now I'm talking to a fire. I'm not even trying to get things to make sense here."
"Sorcerer. Hmm. Powerful?"
"Well, yeah, I guess. But… few months ago, when he tried to hurt me, Snow stopped it without even realising it. So he can't do anything if we're prepared, right? Wait—what if he's out there now? What if he's why I'm in this—safe room thing—"
"No," the fire said, suddenly sounding a lot more human. "No trigger-happy sorcerer is able to shake Rem up enough for an outsider to be plonked into the safe room without warning. He's doing this to himself. Kind of. More like your Lieutenant Snow and Rem are doing this to each other." There was a deafening crunching noise, as if a giant steel structure had imploded just outside the door. Elstrin jumped. The room shook hard enough for several pots to clang to the ground; the table clattered as bullets rolled across its surface. "Damn," the fire grumbled. "It's pretty stormy out there, eh? Don't worry. I can hold the fort for a very long time."
"What—what do you mean?" Elstrin stammered. "Snow and Rem are—doing this? They're fighting? Are they brothers? They look alike. Why—"
"Jesus, kid. Slow down. They're not brothers. Did you say you were from Mernot?" Elstrin nodded, and the fire muttered, "Mernot…. Is there a… I don't quite remember his name—a dude called Uriel or something? He'd be famous-ish and I think Snow would know him. And I know it sounds weird but he'll have something to do with dead things."
"Uriel? Do you mean Gabriel? He—"
"Yep, that's the one—Gabriel Kresil, right? Yeah. Where is he?"
"Ah. Let's ignore that for the time being. Tell me, who is this sorcerer after? Gabriel or Snow?"
"Gabriel. He wants Gabriel to resurrect his wife. Aren't you supposed to know all this? Serpent just explained it in the garden. I'm still in the same constructed reality thing, aren't I? You're just like, another character that isn't real."
"Nope. The safe room is separate. Rem is not making me up like he's making everything else up.
I told you, he is off on a really bad self-induced acid trip right now, so he's not up to creating stuff."
"You… cannot expect me to understand that," Elstrin deadpanned.
The house was constantly trembling now, a nonstop buzz that wouldn't go away, rattling dust from the walls. "It's okay, I don't," the fire said cheerfully. "You're just a normal kid. I'm trying to figure out why you're here."
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