“And you’re supposed to just watch.” She stabs a finger at Duilio.
“You will have to forgive me, Therese, but this man is unbalanced and dangerous. I must insist-”
“Oh, fuck off with your ‘insists’,” she bites. “I’ll talk to whoever I want to talk to.” So said, she moves around Duilio and to Kettle.
“You were supposed to be alone,” he mutters. “I should’ve … I shouldn’t have gone offline.” He then scuttles off.
Therese turns her attention back to Duilio, giving him a scathing look. He shrugs, pointing with open hands toward the empty space vacated by Kettle.
“Therese, I-” He stops as she brings up a hand of her own.
Before he may speak further, she stomps off.
*****
They sit, catching their breath. Sweat glistens on flesh. Zoe takes another pull on the water bottle, exhaling deeply. Lilja gives her a sidelong glance. They have completed an intense training session, one that has included some sparring. Lilja had been surprised when Zoe suggested it. Zoe had even seemed sincerely grateful to be shown some effective self-defense moves.
“Who else have you sparred with?”
Lilja’s eyes move back to Zoe, noticing the girl studying her.
“A lot of people.”
“No. I mean other Hunters.”
“Oh.” Lilja goes quiet a moment, thinking. “Skot and Anika.”
“Anika?”
Lilja nods. “Yes. Anika Malkuth.”
“When did you spar her?”
“It was a while ago. She came to the City to inspect the Book’s defenses. She said I was one of the defenses, so she wanted to spar with me.”
Zoe blinks beneath a furrowing brow. After a time, she speaks again. “Was she any good?”
Lilja gives a quick nod. “Yes. She’d been training in martial arts for a long time.”
“And?” Zoe leads, drawing out the word as those eyebrows rise. Lilja does not take the bait. “Who won?”
“I did,” Lilja says after a brief hesitation. She’d thought of explaining the situation, how Anika had basically forced the match.
“Wow.”
“You’ve never sparred with her?”
“No,” Zoe says, her tone sharp. “The first time I met her was during a hunt, and the demon just about killed her.”
“I heard about that. You know, it’s funny …”
Zoe waits, then blinks after a time, moving her head nearer to Lilja. “Funny?”
“The Felcraft and Malkuth are rivals, but you saved Anika. She ended up coming to the City, and she saved my life.”
“She did?”
“Mmhmm.”
Zoe licks her lips, pulling the lower in for a short chew. “I didn’t know that. And anyway, we may be rivals, but we don’t hunt each other. She needed help, so …” Her voice dwindles as her thoughts are claimed of those lost that day.
Lilja looks at her, noting the change, sensing the curtain of darkness that falls. She says nothing, asks no questions, instead taking to her feet to stretch her arms and lower back before having another pull on her water bottle. She ponders the various situations since finding out about this secret war with the Infernal and suspects many of them have been saved and saved others. Such is the nature of the beast.
“What’d you see in that fountain?”
She looks down to find Zoe’s eyes staring up at her. “Hmm?”
“The old fountain at the Barrington house. Remember? You were looking in it, and you thought you saw something.”
“Sorry.”
“What?” Zoe replies, her face again pinching up.
“I don’t remember,” Lilja manages. Her voice holds more than a murmur, but it lacks conviction, nonetheless.
Zoe stands, staring intently, but Lilja does no more than look back. Zoe finally exhales loudly through her nose, giving a shake of the head.
“It’s hard to trust you sometimes.”
“Sorry.”
“See?” Zoe exclaims, flinging a hand toward the other woman as she then steps away. “It’s stuff like that. You don’t even ask me why or act shocked, you just … apologize?”
“Sorry,” Lilja murmurs yet again.
Zoe looks back, her lips pressed together in an exasperated smirk.
“You can stop saying you’re sorry. It’s not camouflage, you know?”
Lilja blinks rapidly, confused.
“We know about something very dangerous, and we’re doing very dangerous things. We need to trust each other.”
“I know.”
“I’ll admit, back at the Barrington house, you kicked some serious ass. You can handle yourself, just like everyone says,” she tacks on, and it doesn’t sound like a compliment. “But you saw something in that fountain, and that attack was directed at you.”
Lilja’s jaw moves as though she fights to speak, but all she finally manages is a meager nod.
“That’s another thing. You’re skilled, obviously. You’re brave. But with something like this, you look like a scared child. What the hell?”
Zoe stares, drilling into Lilja with the weight of a non-verbal attack.
“I don’t know.”
Zoe rolls her eyes. “We’ve seen attacks before that were directed at a specific person. The Infernal like to try to get under our skin, undermine our confidence. They want us to doubt, to be afraid. One way to deal with that is to own it. You’re just trying to hide.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t make any difference. What matters is if that comes out at the wrong time, and one of us gets killed.”
“It won’t.”
“Are you sure?” Zoe asks, steeling her gaze against Lilja’s own sudden solidification. “You froze up when that demon came at us.”
Lilja backs down, parting her lips as though to respond, but all she does is swallow.
“That’s what they do,” Zoe presses. “I don’t care how skilled you are, or how well you’re taking to this, you don’t know our enemy that well. You just don’t. I was raised knowing about them; so was Skot. And we’re still not impervious. They’re picking on you for a reason.”
Lilja gives a mute nod. “But I want to help,” she finally says.
Zoe sighs. “That’s great. Then help. Don’t hurt. You know that putting us at unnecessary risk is a bad thing.”
“You don’t want me to go to Tibet.”
Zoe cocks her head, eyeballing Lilja. She purses her lips as she considers.
“I didn’t want you going with us to Scholomance. I didn’t like being junior to you at the Barrington house. This isn’t about my ego, okay? It’s about your obvious inexperience. I don’t get why I’m the only one worried about this.”
“You’re not.”
“Oh?” Zoe challenges. “Who else is worried about it?”
“I am.”
Zoe prepares another push, her lips part, the top curled a bit in a nascent snarl, but she pauses. The expression smooths instantly as she blinks.
“Then why go? Why the risk?”
Lilja shakes her head. “I can’t let it keep me from going and trying to help. Don’t they win that way, too?”
Zoe struggles with stifling another quick response. Silence ensues as both young women stare at each other. “Maybe? I don’t know,” she finally admits. “But that’s because I don’t think any of us really know their plans.”
Lilja nods, slowly. “Maybe they don’t want me there,” she says without a trace of pride.
Zoe just looks at her, words failing as thoughts tumble in her mind.
*****
Pierce eyeballs the guy sitting on the ground near him. Several others also hold place here, and all of them look like washed-out collections of rags and disuse.
“It’s for something better!” he finally says, all but spitting in the end. A sharp gesture of his hand accentuates the revelation along with the wrinkle of exasperation on his face. “Do you want this to be it?”
&n
bsp; “No,” the guy responds, the word elongating. He glances about him. No one else says a word.
“You gonna get a job … and a home?” Pierce stabs. “You think any of that will make a difference? We’re on the bottom rung. So what if you go up a few! All of this … all of it … is just bullshit. I know, I know,” Pierce gives, nodding into the words, “we’re in hell: agony, loneliness, depression. You think others aren’t the same? They are, but theirs is wrapped in a prettier package. It’s all bullshit.”
“Yeah, but …” the guy continues trying, again looking to the others gathered around, all of them in various repose on the ground in their derelict congregation. “The tax.”
Pierce stares back at the finally uttered word, latching on with a seeming laser-guided precision.
“You want to leave? Go out on your own? Go ahead.” Pierce gives another quick gesture of his hand. “See how long you last.”
“I just … I don’t want to be taken by … one of those … things.”
“Me, neither,” one of the crowd mumbles, and this gains agreeing nods from many.
Pierce scans them, his discolored teeth revealed through disgusted lips. He stands, taking in a breath, and unleashes a torrent of wet coughing. Lance quickly gets to his own feet, wincing in the continued pain from his leg. Pierce pushes away from the efforts at comfort, spitting on to the ground. The expectorant shines in the meager light.
“You all disgust me,” he says, wiping at his mouth. “This world is shit, and they offer us something better, and you get scared? You know why? Because they’re honest. That’s right. You should be scared of a lot of things, but you’re not, because those other things hide behind acting like they care or sympathize, and that is all bullshit. We’re all heading to slaughter. All of us. Do you want to do something, or just lie back for the knife? Huh!” He adds to this last with a startling jerk of his own body, getting some reels and quick intakes of breath from the group.
As he stands there, looking them over, they say nothing more. Heads hunch into shoulders. No one even has enough bravery to scuttle away. He finally walks away, and Lance follows.
Another series of coughs takes him, halting his exit. Lance consumes the opportunity to catch up with him. He places his hands on Pierce’s back.
“Stop trying to help me!” Pierce cries out, batting those hands away. He shoots a look at Lance and moves further off.
“Sorry,” Lance mumbles when he again catches up, both slipping back to the ground. “It’s bad, though.”
“What is?”
“The tax. Well, I mean, how it’s collected,” he addends when Pierce gives him an angry stare, but he backs down no further.
Pierce nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up, but that’s just the way it is. We’re generating a lot of energy here. You know that, and they need it. Besides, it’s all coming together. We’ll be leaving soon.”
“We will?”
“Yes. I told you we got another message, didn’t I?” Pierce asks, his voice full of frustration.
Lance shakes his head, apologetic.
“Huh. Well, we did. We’re leaving soon.”
Lance looks back toward the group. It’s dispersed, but it’s still there. Some have gone to their own little places, trying for something like sleep. Others pair up to share drugs or sex. Some even seem content to just experience each other’s company. They are all expending time, finding some sort of opiate to stave off the crushing boredom, the pains.
“What about them?”
Pierce cuts his eyes over. Time passes. Lance wonders if there will be no answer. He’d not be surprised.
“That was a good speech I made, wasn’t it?”
Lance blinks, having almost dropped into some sort of pseudo-sleep. He finds something unexpected on Pierce’s cracked lips – a grin.
“Yeah. Sure.”
A chuckle starts low in Pierce’s throat, and to further surprise, it does not turn into a sputtering fit.
“It was all bullshit.”
*****
“There is only so much we are capable of seeing.”
Skothiam looks over at Nicole. She stands there, calmly, returning his gaze. After a time, it may seem her words have become but wisps of wind. Though they sound like a platitude, he knows she carries real intent.
“The gate at Scholomance.”
She nods, slowly. “That is one example. I fear my own eyes have been closed to too many possibilities.”
“I wouldn’t figure you to have hubris.”
He notes the slightest press of her lips and narrowing of her eyes. He grins, knowing this is as about as much of a smirk he may get from his sister. She finally turns away, her usual, otherworldly expression returned. Her eyes fall on the Book, one of the three. It lies open on the nearby table, a fine, leather bookmark resting atop the verso page. An intricately-designed piece of cloth lies below this, giving the whole thing an appearance of an altar.
“We know much of the Hidden,” she intones, moving nearer the table. “Yet we must not fall into the belief that we know all merely because we have pierced some small part of that veil.
“We have gleaned further clues from the books in our possession, enough to feel confident that all three form some sort of puzzle, a key to unlocking the ability to manipulate the gateways. Or so we assume.”
She looks back at him from having moved nearer the open book, reaching out slowly with one hand as though she might learn more through this gesture. He knows the things of which she speaks, and he wonders why she brings them up. Her tone and manner have become such that she acts more as one in reverence to the object as opposed to really speaking to him.
“Hundreds upon hundreds of years of records and information, yet we did not know of these … pocket dimensions and the gateways leading to them until we stumbled upon the one in Scholomance. Do these small places exist on their own, and those of the school found them, or did they possess the very power to create them? I will visit Kuzma Nasht and ask him.”
He finally blinks himself out of his own quasi-hypnotic state, realizing his sister’s oration has drawn him there. He finds her having turned back, peering at him with an unfettered gaze.
“Of course,” he says, knowing his permission is merely a formality.
“One wonders at the metaphysical rules of such places. Clearly, they are somehow locked out of the normal passage of time. If the Guardian leaves this sanctuary, he would likely die.”
“He didn’t realize so many years had passed,” Skot offers.
She takes time to reply, giving forth another of her single, slow nods, then shifting herself to partially face the book. “We all plunge into the unknown, then, all to fight the Infernal.”
“How much did the authors of the Books know?”
“That is the question,” she answers. “Another is how much can we learn from what they knew? They speak of many worlds, many peoples. They speak of vast civilizations that rose and fell before ours ever came to be. Is there truly so much out there?”
“Do others harbor us ill will?”
She cuts her eyes to him, head tilting slightly as she ponders. She gives no answer, returning her full focus to the tome.
“If those of Scholomance did such a good job of protecting the third book, then perhaps we ought to let it remain so. We would truly fall to hubris if we easily presume ourselves to be the most qualified to guard the books.”
“Are you advising me to call off the trip?”
He senses indecision in her, and he realizes it gives him a simmer of anxiety.
“Does it not strike you as odd that after so many years of our searching, all three books are suddenly in our grasp?”
“We don’t have the third yet,” he reminds her.
She waves off the point with a graceful gesture of a hand. “I do wonder,” she muses, “will you be seeking another guardian or a corpse? Regardless, it makes me consider the possibility that the Books want to be found.”
He nar
rows his eyes. “Do you truly think them possessed of such power?”
“We cannot let our knowledge give us to believe in anything, and we cannot let our knowledge keep us from believing.”
“I know that,” he almost snaps. “But how do we practically know which actions to take? This mystery has remained for this long because it’s so difficult.”
She nods, giving him this, and perhaps also offering her own sort of apology for her prior remark.
“I’m worried this is a trap,” she finally says, and the grounded sincerity in her voice moves him.
He realizes she has not sounded so human in a very long time.
“How could it be a trap?”
“I don’t believe the guardians have laid a trap for us, but it may prove wise to leave it be.”
Skot refrains from replying, realizing they have completed a circle. As usual, his sister has given him much to think on.
Chapter Nine
Lilja has never been to Tibet before.
She has her vivid red locks in a long ponytail and under a drab green ball cap, the rest of her clothing of similar dark, earthen shades. The expected quartet has come here, and she sticks near Skot, Zoe and David bringing up the rear. They’ve already settled into their rooms and set out to explore Lhasa.
Nasht had given them a pendant and a name. He had said the necklace with its curiously engraved black stone would draw them to the courier. He could not explain how, and Skot holds his own measure of skepticism, especially due to his recent talk with his sister. Centuries have passed. Who is to say the courier, Kuranes, deposited the book in Tibet at all? Skot tries not to feel despondent after such an amazing discovery at Scholomance, but he cannot shake the sense of hopelessness in this endeavor.
“This is where a great Buddhist master bound an earth demoness to build the foundation of a temple over her heart.”
Skot looks at Lilja, blinking. A gentle curl touches his lips. “You are amazing.”
She grins in return, blushing a touch, and he reaches in to give her a hug and kiss.
“It’s just folklore,” she explains.
A smirk is his reply. “You’re cute.”
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