Again, I glanced at Elise for explanation, but she was frowning after Kovaks with her own confused look. Ahead, Kovaks shot one last dark frown at the rooftop Alton Parker had disappeared onto, then he leaned in close to the dirty permacrete wall, brushed its surface clear with one hand, and thrust his odd little stone forward with the other.
Understanding dawned with the sound of faint clicks and shifting stone, just before a door-sized section of the old alley wall swung inward on hinges I couldn’t see or hear, revealing the unlit way to what I could only assume was some manner of secret passage. I chided myself for not having noticed it earlier in my senses. Of course, it might have been protected by whatever arcane mechanisms had responded to Kovaks’ little key stone. But still, it was just a good reminder that, even with all the practice I’d had, it was easier than not to miss the things I wasn’t specifically looking for in the flood of information that was my extended senses.
“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me about this spot,” Elise said, as we all drew up to Kovaks and his mysterious new doorway.
He gave her a kind of sickly sweet scowl that said that his omission was hardly the worst of the transgressions to be counted there that evening, then he turned and stalked silently into the opening, darkness swallowing him whole.
“It’s okay,” Elise said quietly beside me. “He’s like this all the time.”
I traded an uncertain look with the two ex-Seekers. Or with Siren, at least. Garrett was busy staring after Kovaks with an uncharacteristically troubled expression. I glanced at the doorway, then back to the rooftops, still not loving the idea of Alton Parker roaming free out there, and wishing more than a little that Johnny—and maybe even Dillard’s Hound Company—were here right now, too.
But they weren’t. And they wouldn’t be. Not like they used to. Not until I’d done what I had to do. Maybe not even then.
“Okay then,” I said, carefully setting those darkening thoughts aside and looking back at my companions. “Who’s ready to follow the dangerous stranger down the creepy dark passage?”
Garrett started forward after Kovaks without a word or a backward glance.
Siren frowned after him, looking worried, but she covered it up well enough as she turned to us. “Dangerous strangers and dark passages?” She reached up and patted my cheek affectionately. “I used to call that a Juveday night, sweetling.”
Then, with a wink at Elise, she turned and followed her man into the darkness.
I found Elise’s hand and held it tight, allowing myself to wonder for a few precious seconds what our life would’ve been if the raknoth had never come to Enochia, and none of this had ever happened—if my abilities had remained dormant, and I’d simply bumped into Elise out on leave from Sanctuary, like a normal legionnaire.
“Still too late for us to run away from all of this?” I asked quietly, giving her hand a squeeze.
She didn’t return my feeble attempt at a grin. She just looked tired and worried. Afraid. Whatever feelings she’d been bottling up in the face of our clandestine meeting finally creeping out, now that we had a moment to ourselves.
But the echo of boisterous voices approaching the end of the alleyway reminded me that even this moment was not ours. Not completely.
“Come on,” she said, pulling her hand free from mine and starting forward after the others. “We wouldn’t wanna be left behind.”
“No,” I muttered quietly, watching her go with the sinking feeling that, as per usual, she’d intuited entirely more about my intentions than I’d thought possible. “No, I guess we wouldn’t.”
I took one more glance back at the alleyway—back at the city of Humility, and at the world of Enochia, and all its millions of good, Alpha-fearing people. People who would’ve sworn on their children’s eternal spirits that they wanted nothing more than for us to be left behind. People who had no idea what might befall their children’s children if we were. I took one more look at it all, reminding myself that it all might still happen even it we weren’t, and that I was but one more infinitesimal blip in the roiling ocean of Enochia’s fate. It wasn’t up to me to decide any of it, I reminded myself. All I could do was what I believed to be right in my heart, and then get the scud out of the way of my own shadow.
Holding that thought in mind, I turned and followed after Elise.
We had a lot to talk about.
34
Children of Enochia
“Remind me again why you were worried about blindfolding us?” came Siren’s voice from the flitting dance of handheld artificial lights and dank shadows ahead. “As if any of us can actually tell where the scud we’re at right now.”
Past her and Garrett, Kovaks said nothing. Only turned left down the next narrow passageway—which, honestly, given the fact that we had to go single file and sideways to even squeeze through, felt more like an architectural accident than an intentional avenue for travel. Not that Kovaks seemed to mind. Given the timing of the turn in relation to Siren’s comment, I wasn’t sure it wasn’t simply done out of spite, just to throw another wrinkle in our already winding way.
Scud, I wasn’t even all that sure we hadn’t just been walking in circles for the past twenty minutes.
Initially, I’d assumed Kovaks’ hidden passage would lead more or less straight to his and Pasty’s secret dungeon. I’d been wrong. And now, a dozen or so turns and mismatched, unlit passageways later, I wasn’t really sure of anything beyond the fact there were entirely more abandoned tunnels beneath Humility than I ever would’ve guessed. Which probably shouldn’t have been all that surprising, considering how old the city was. Still, my Legion-trained sense of direction wasn’t used to being this thrown, and even my extended senses weren’t all that much help.
The fact that Elise was there, and that she didn’t seem particularly worried about Kovaks’ navigation was the only real comfort I had. She certainly wasn’t going out of her way to reassure me otherwise. In fact, she’d been... well, not distant, exactly. Not even cold-shouldered, really. In fact, she’d given me little but what would likely be considered perfectly civil behavior between most lovers. But none of that quite dissuaded me from the feeling that something was up.
Maybe it was just a touch of insecurity over one thing or another. Or maybe there was something going on that I hadn’t even thought about. I’d intended to ask as soon as we got to some privacy, but given that that didn’t seem to be happening anytime too quickly...
“Are you okay?” I finally sent as we exited the narrow “passageway.”
Smooth as ever, I was. But it was something, at least. And after twenty minutes of silent tension, something sure felt better than nothing.
“No,” she sent back. “And neither are you.”
“No,” I agreed, seeing no reason not to. “Not really. But I’m, uh, also not entirely sure what I’ve done to upset you.”
“Who says you’re the one I’m upset with?”
I looked at her, squinting to get a good read on her expression in the dim reflections of our handheld lights. She didn’t particularly look like she was trying to back me into a trap. Elise had never really been one to play such games, or to beat around the bush when she had something to say.
That said, I was still hesitant to bite at first. At least until she took my hand in the dark, and I felt the caring in the way her fingers closed around mine.
“You’re going after the High Cleric, aren’t you?”
I took a steadying breath, resisting the urge to verbally backpedal. We were past all that.
“Maybe. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh, good.” I felt her sideways glance. “Well, in that case, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
It might’ve seemed a small thing, but I couldn’t overstate how grateful I was for what she didn’t say in that moment: that going after the High Cleric of the Sanctum was suicide. That I’d be beyond a fool to even think about trying it, never mind the rampant neg
lect that doing so would clearly demonstrate for the loved ones I’d be leaving behind. That I wasn’t going to do it, dammit, and that that was that, and I should just forget about it.
I still felt some of those sentiments lingering there beneath her words, of course. But that was only because Elise wasn’t delusional. She understood exactly how dangerous it would be for me to go anywhere near the High Cleric, but she also wasn’t going to insult my intelligence by acting like I didn’t understand it too. Instead, she was calmly inviting me to explain myself. It only made me appreciate her all the more.
“I don’t like it either, Lise,” I admitted, “But he’s the single biggest obstacle to ending this war, and I’m pretty sure I—
“Hey, what’s the holdup back there?” Kovaks called from ahead, where he was waiting at what looked to be our next turn.
“They’re passing secrets,” Siren said, in one of her mischievous tones. “Rude.”
“Something you need to tell us?” Kovaks asked as we caught up to the rest of the group.
“Not yet,” Elise said, glancing at me to see if I had anything to add.
I didn’t. Definitely not yet. So I remained silent until Kovaks finished skewering me with his distrustful stare and rounded back to his navigation.
“Come on,” he called, not looking back. “We’re here.”
“We’ll talk about it soon?” I sent to Elise, giving her hand a squeeze.
She nodded, not looking especially excited about the prospect. “I expect we will.”
We followed Kovaks into the next passageway, down a side chute, and finally to an old, sturdy-looking darkwood door that opened with a rich creak to the familiar sight of the dungeon I’d so rudely awakened to only a few cycles ago.
Kovaks waved us in, standing by the door so he could give us each one last warning glare as we entered. I stepped through the doorway behind Garrett and Siren.
The room was large, but fairly cozy on account of the wild variety and volume of its contents. Ancient-looking stone walls and floors, set all around with hand-carved wooden furniture—chests and chairs and tables and shelves, the latter filled to the brim with books upon books. Tomes so ancient-looking, it seemed a mystery they didn’t simply disintegrate into thin air.
What shelves and surface weren’t covered with books were mostly occupied with a host of mysterious runed devices, not unlike Kovaks’ knockout wand and blindfold bracelets, all of them neatly ordered, and meticulously clean like the rest of the room. By comparison to the ancient furnishings and the unquestionably arcane artifacts, the far side of the space—the portion that housed several node workstation displays, as well as a fab, a self-contained hydrocycler, and a few other modern amenities—felt like an odd juxtaposition. A flash of the new, tainting the once-pure memory of a people long-since passed.
It was an interesting sight, to say the least. As were the room’s inhabitants. Or two of them, at least.
Franco and James, I’d expected, and was more than a little bit relieved to see. Then there was Pasty—or Omelius, as Elise had called him—a silent curiosity as he hovered in the corner, hands clasped nervously in front of his worn brown robe, studying the new arrivals, bald, barefoot, and portly as ever. Him, I’d expected. But not the fourth.
She was an older woman. Bushy, graying hair, and eyebrows to match. Those eyebrows were restless as she studied our group, and between her slightly mismatched state of dress and the dazed, somewhat dreamy look in her eyes, I got the impression of someone who was chronically frazzled, but also perfectly at peace with that fact.
She looked friendly enough, I decided. And membership issues and syrup-thick tensions aside, I saw no reason not to make myself as harmless as possible in their eyes.
“Hello, everyone,” I said. Or started to say, at least, before Kovaks pulled the dungeon door shut and touched that key stone of his to a silver rune on the wall.
It was exactly the kind of kick I’d been tensed for the entire time. Like someone had turned off my lights. Like they’d jammed a cloaking pendant straight down my throat. Only this was different. Not just a partitioning wall on my extended senses. They died completely. I couldn’t feel a thing, inside or out, and it happened so quickly, I didn’t even have time to think before I’d dropped into a fighting stance, rounding on Kovaks even as he raised his wand at my face.
“It’s just a precaution,” Elise said quickly, grabbing my arm.
At her touch, the world stopped spinning, and I regained enough higher function to note that she was directing her words at Garrett and Siren, who’d tensed as well, albeit not quite as violently as me.
“An unnecessary one, I’d argue,” Elise continued, with a sideways frown at Kovaks, “but one that’ll make them feel better until you two are cleared for—”
She cut off like she’d just realized what she was about to say. I might’ve put that together with the uncertain look she shot me if I hadn’t been too busy trying to calibrate to the world that had so suddenly collapsed down to little more than mundane sight and sound, and the grip of Elise’s fingers on my arm.
None of it felt right. Like the connections between my brain and my sensory organs had been frayed. Was this how things had always felt before I’d mastered my extended senses? I wasn’t sure, but as my heart rate started to come down, I recalled that I’d had a somewhat similar sensation the last time I’d been here. It had just been less alarming then, I guess, given that I’d been too groggy and disoriented to really process it.
“You two, with me,” Kovaks said, gesturing to Siren and Garrett before I could even think to ask exactly what he’d done to us. “Get the Judge, Ome. Let’s get this over with.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by the last bit, but Omelius obviously was. The pasty mute hopped to immediate action, darting with surprising gusto over to a darkwood chest in the corner, bare feet slapping against the stone with each step. From the chest, he withdrew an object that I recognized all too well, even if I still wasn’t rightly sure what in the scud it actually was, other than the arcane brain scanner that had apparently convinced Kovaks and Omelius that I really was the Demon of Divinity, with a capital D.
Omelius, apparently recalling the same episode, glanced from the runed helmet to me, then down to the floor, like he was afraid to even look at me. He turned and pattered after Kovaks, who was headed for the arched hallway I hadn’t even been able to see last time from my stationary vantage point bound at the round wooden table in the center of the room.
“Come on,” Kovaks called over his shoulder. “You’re either in or you’re out.”
Garrett and Siren traded a look, then glanced my way. As the apparent supreme leader of the “out” crowd, I gave them a clueless shrug. Siren quirked an eyebrow, then frowned and looked at Garrett, as if she’d just remembered telepathic communication was off the table.
Garrett, still having barely said a word this entire time, turned and followed after Kovaks and Omelius, making me wonder all the more what in Alpha’s name he had to tell the brother of Andre Kovaks.
“This is gropping weird,” Siren muttered, turning to tag along with Garrett. “Even by my standards.”
We watched them go until it was just the five of us in the main room, standing with a healthy helping of pregnant silence.
“It’s good to see you in one piece,” Franco said, coming forward to give me his habitual clap on the shoulder. He frowned thoughtfully at his own words. “Seems like I’ve been saying that a bit too often lately.”
“It’s been a rough few days,” I agreed. “Glad you’re all, uh...”
I was deliberating on the word, “safe,” when I noticed our bushy-haired, dreamy-eyed spectator was moving closer to me. Too close. She leaned right in, getting a good look, like I was little more than a particularly fascinating museum display.
“Hi there,” I said uncertainly.
Her brow furrowed, but the silent scrutiny only continued.
“Nala,” Elise said, “do y
ou remember what I was saying about personal space?”
My bushy-haired spectator—Nala, I took it—studied me for another moment, then gave an exasperated huff and turned to Elise. “What’s wrong with ’im?”
“He’s not a lamp, you know,” Elise said. “He can talk.”
“Right, then,” Nala said, turning her dubious stare back on me, still too close for comfort. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Uh...” I looked to Elise for help, not really sure what to say to that.
“Nothing’s wrong with him, Nala,” Elise said, her tone overtly patient.
“Well there must be, mustn’t there, if’n those two and the Judge all say so. Do ya not agree, Herald? None of the others have been reportin’ any blue-blue-reds, now, have they?”
“Nala...” Elise warned, unmistakable tension in her body now. She shot a quick glance at me, then looked to her father for some help.
“What’s going on?” I asked before Franco could step in. “What does she mean, others? What others? And what the scud’s a blue-blue...”
I trailed off at the sinking expression on Elise’s face.
“Well,” Franco said, looking back and forth between us. “That was fast.”
“What was fast?” I demanded. “And can you please back up?” I added, turning to Nala, who if anything was leaning closer now that I was showing signs of life. “You’re... making me nervous.”
“Ha!” Nala recoiled with one wrinkly hand to her chest and a look of pure indignation on her face. “Me, makin’ ‘im nervous? You hear that? A blue-blue—”
“That’s enough, I think,” Franco said. “Nala, would you mind terribly if I asked you to make us some of that lovely hattica leaf tea of yours?”
The old lady shot him a dirty look. “I’m not an invalid yet, you know. I can tell if’n someone’s tellin’ me to bother off.”
“Not at all,” Franco said. “I simply think this conversation might call for a soothing beverage.” He turned. “James, perhaps you wouldn’t mind?”
Children of Enochia Page 31
