Grave New World

by HP Mallory

  I was so preoccupied with my own wishful thinking that I didn’t even realize when we reached room four until we were standing just outside the door. Jax swiftly opened it and then, upon seeing whatever was inside the room, swore to himself. Shaking his head with an audible sigh, he entered the room, and again, Greebow was right on his heels. Once the troll carried me into the smallish room, I understood why Jax had slipped into a tizzy. There was a line. A very long one. It wrapped around the perimeter of the entire room more than once and was comprised of maybe forty people or more. But the line wasn’t what caught my attention. That honor was reserved for what was in the center of the room, which was nothing less than fascinating.

  It looked like a tornado. But it was contained, being held inside clear plastic or glass walls, and the violently rotating column of air was maybe twelve feet high from the base to the top. The narrow end, the finger that touched the ground, was swirling with a cloud of debris that included hats, glasses and various other personal belongings. From what I could observe, each person standing in line was being allowed to enter the tornado as soon as their turn arrived and they reached the head of the line. The cyclone was manned by two people who were both wearing ANC uniforms. One of them was busily perusing the travelers’ stamped tickets, while the other one was in charge of admission to the cyclone and controlled the opening and closing of the glass door.

  I also observed the people standing in line, who ran the gamut in terms of their diversity. Some appeared to be ANC employees, while others were dressed in expensive suits, and still others looked like street urchins. None, however, were humans, and I knew for sure that all of them were Netherworldly creatures. That didn’t strike me as being unusual since humans were either forbidden altogether or discouraged in general from traveling through portals to the Netherworld. The main reason for that was because humans required much more extreme amounts of protection once they arrived there. As a rule, portal travel to the Netherworld was only available to human dignitaries and high-ranking government agents. The main reason they had to visit the Netherworld was primarily to check and make sure that the ANC was handling everything satisfactorily and enforcing the laws that be. I had no idea what the current situation might have been between the humans and the Rebellion, but I didn’t imagine it could be too good.

  After maybe thirty minutes, we reached the front of the queue, and once we did, I could feel my heart rate speeding up. Having never witnessed a twister portal before, I’d also never even heard of one, so I had no clue what to expect. I watched it carefully, however, and noticed that whenever someone stepped inside the transparent door, they were instantly sucked into the center of the twister where they disappeared. Thankfully, no one appeared to get caught inside the swirling, debris-filled air that bashed the unsecured fragments around the glass walls.

  Waiting at the head of the line, Jax summoned the ticket collector who glanced over the paperwork he handed her before putting her own stamp on each page. Then she ripped the bottom half off and handed the stubs back to Jax, but not before eyeing me with obvious interest. Turning to the person who was in charge of opening the door into the portal tornado, she nodded, and that person depressed a lever on the door which opened it wide. A gust of wind blew into the door attendant’s face as soon as he opened it, and from what I could observe, he was having a hell of a time just trying to hold the door in place.

  “Hurry,” the woman taking the tickets said to Jax, who quickly nodded and stepped out of the way so Greebow could enter first. Greebow, apparently no stranger to this type of travel, guarded his face with his hands as he braved the heavy winds. Like all who went before him, once he stepped over the threshold inside the glass box, he disappeared. I couldn’t help my disappointment that he hadn’t gotten caught up in the winds and slammed against the glass walls. That would have been a visual I would have paid to see …

  “You go next,” Jax said to the troll. “Make sure you keep a tight hold on her too.”

  The troll said nothing but just nodded, and I wondered what might happen if he didn’t keep a tight hold on me? Maybe I’d end up in another time period? Hmm, that wasn’t such a bad possibility …

  “I’m right behind you,” Jax reassured him as the troll started toward the glass enclosure. His stride was so slow that I could hear a few people behind us groaning and muttering about the senseless delay. But the troll didn’t seem to notice their remarks, or if he did, he didn’t comment as he continued lumbering forward. Once we were inside the direct path of the relentless winds, I had to cover my face with my hands because the force they blew was so powerful. If the troll was walking slowly before, he was moving at a snail’s pace now. After another few steps, I knew we had to be inside the tornado because the sound was nearly deafening.

  And then, all at once, it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Bram

  Vander remained quiet until I finished narrating my story.

  I explained everything that happened from the moment Jax arrived with Dulcie at my chateau, right up until the last time I saw her. I also bent his ear with the information I managed to glean from Drajow regarding the self-appointed leader of this rebellion, the so-called “Darkness.”

  “And thus concludes the absent information that you were formerly lacking,” I said after wrapping up my explanation. Vander did not reply or react, but simply continued to stare straight ahead at the hairpin bends in the road, approaching them with what appeared to be increased aggression and downright recklessness. “Let me please remind you that the automobile you are driving is not replaceable, should it be totaled,” I added.

  “So, Bram, you’re telling me the reason you ordered Dulcie to be kidnapped from ANC Splendor and delivered to you was expressly so you could explain everything that was going on with this Rebellion to her?” he asked after a lengthy pause. I had to suppose he was processing my description of the most recent events.

  “Yes, I confess that is so.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I prefer that the Rebellion does not succeed.”

  “Oh, really? Even though, at the time, you were counting on the Rebellion’s success because it would facilitate your own success?” Vander continued, obviously growing more suspicious of my true motives. His line of questioning did not surprise me, however, for I knew Vander was a most skeptical and distrustful character in general. No, I was not the least bit taken unawares by his interrogation; I expected it.

  “Yes, even so,” I honestly answered with a smile.

  “You do realize, I hope, that there are easier ways you could have relayed that information to Dulcie, ways that didn’t involve having her kidnapped,” Vander started as he alternately eyed the road and me. I suppose he expected to read my body language, but I did not flinch. “Speaking of which, you could have kept Dulcie out of it altogether! Why didn’t you just come to me, for example?”

  “Ah, pray tell, what reason would compel me to seek your assistance, Vander?” I asked incredulously. I faced him and raised both of my eyebrows, exaggerating my expression for dramatic emphasis. “You know as well as I do that you and I have never cared for and only barely tolerated one another. And any sign of amicability between the two of us has been entirely for Dulcie’s benefit.”

  Vander frowned in such a way that relayed that he could not argue with my observation. Of course, he found it frustrating, all the same. “You must have gone to Dulcie for other reasons than you are letting on now,” he insisted as he turned to face me with an undeniable glower.

  “Of course I did!” I answered with a derisive chuckle, choosing to make light of the situation. It was a silly conversation to begin with; he and I both knew exactly where we stood with regard to Dulcie’s affections and well-being. “I make no pretense where my interest in the fairy is concerned. It will not come as any surprise to you when I say that if she ever wakes up and comes to her senses, she will realize that I am a much better companion for her than you are, and I s
hould leap at the first opportunity to have her for my own.”

  “Yeah? Sorry, Bram, but you’ll be waiting a very long time for that day to come,” he answered in a dark tone. Clearly, I was getting under his skin, as they say.

  “‘A very long time’ means nothing to me,” I responded with a knowing smile. “Everything I am is inured and habituated to ‘a very long time.’”

  “Back to the point,” Vander snapped as he shook his head. He appeared unduly vexed that I, as always, most assuredly bested him where our debates and discussions were concerned. “You must comprehend in your ancient wisdom how and why your story is pretty hard for me to buy, don’t you?”

  “Of course I understand,” I responded in an affronted manner. I did not appreciate his implication that I was foolish by not considering the effect of my story or to even assume it would be an undeniable explanation for him to readily embrace.

  We were spared from further banter when there emerged a buzzing from Drajow’s mobile phone, which Vander dropped in the center console. I immediately reached over to answer it, reading the text message as soon as it came through.

  “What does it say?” Vander asked.

  I cleared my throat. “Rochefort has eloquently asked ‘is it done?’” I told him. “Shall I respond in the affirmative?” Vander nodded his agreement.

  I typed back “yes” and clicked send.

  Then I closed my eyes to concentrate on the connection I shared with Dulcie. Traces of her blood still traveled through my veins, but they were rapidly weakening. It was important that I continue to check our link every ten minutes or more just to ensure Vander and I were still traveling in the correct direction.

  “What are you doing?” Vander inquired.

  “I am checking my bond with Dulcie.”

  “You have no bond with Dulcie.”

  “I am checking my connection with Dulcie.”

  Vander grumbled something unintelligible, but I was not paying very much attention to him. The tentative link I shared with the delectable fairy was decidedly less pronounced than it had been only minutes earlier. I clenched my eyes shut more tightly in a more intense effort to push past the blood connection I shared with the brute beside me and locate the briskly evaporating grasp I still had with Dulcie.

  “What’s wrong?” Vander demanded.

  “Our connection is weak,” I replied in a patient tone. He was beginning to irk me because his incessant questions were unnecessary and, in some cases, unanswerable. “I am having some difficulty locating her at present,” I calmly explained as I shook my head and opened my eyes. I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was actually feeling increasingly worried. “I fear I can no longer sense her whereabouts.”

  “But why?” Vander inquired as he looked at me for an answer. The expression on his face was a veritable minefield of concern. “Why can’t you feel her any longer? Does that mean something’s gone wrong?”

  “No, not necessarily,” I answered. Just then, the mobile phone in my hands suddenly dinged again with an incoming message. I glanced down at it and read aloud: “‘Good. Meet us at Station 2.’” I turned to face Vander. “Concise and direct,” I said as I continued. “Does Station 2 mean something to you, because I must confess, it means nothing to me.”

  Vander shrugged. “No, it means nothing to me either. I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

  I cocked my head to the side as I considered the options. “Regardless, I must respond.” Vander did not reply so I assumed he agreed with me. I typed back: “Gotcha!” All the while, I hoped my response sounded like something Drajow would say. But in general, I was not familiar, much less adept, at speaking like an idiot.

  “Try to locate Dulcie again,” Vander commanded impatiently. I opted to ignore his dictatorial demeanor if only to avoid an unpleasant and boring argument. Magnanimously, I simply closed my eyes and reached out to my sweet, little blossom, straining to sense the pulling in my veins that would trigger my brain to direct me in the right direction where she was currently located. But just as with my first attempt, this time was no more successful.

  “I cannot feel her,” I said with finality before I opened my eyes and shook my head. “It feels as if she has vanished into thin air or fallen off the map.” And then something dawned on me. “That might very well be exactly what happened!”

  “What do you mean she might have vanished into thin air?”

  “If Rochefort is traveling through a portal to another location, it naturally becomes much more difficult for me to track her. The greater the distance or the longer the separation between her and me, the weaker our tie consequently becomes. And if they have crossed into the Netherworld, I fear I could lose my connection with her altogether.”

  “Then do you think that’s what happened?” Vander demanded as he faced me wide-eyed, his dread and apprehension clearly evident in his Neolithic features. “If they’re in the Netherworld, is that why you can’t feel her at all anymore?”

  The mobile phone beeped again with another incoming text, so I glanced down at it and read Rochefort’s message, while at the same time I responded to Vander’s question. “I do not know for certain; although I would definitely venture to say it stands to reason that they would have crossed the threshold into the Netherworld.” Then I glanced up and further considered the message that had just come through. “But, at the moment, I am afraid we have much larger problems with which to contend.”

  “What?” Vander asked as he looked at me and shook his head in that apish manner of his. “What are you talking about now?”

  I glanced at the mobile phone again and read aloud: “There is no Station 2, asshole! Who the fuck is this? And where is Drajow?”

  “Fuck!” Vander said as he bashed his fist into the steering wheel, which responded by emitting an affronted honk. I was so taken aback by Rochefort’s curt message, along with my utter inability to locate Dulcie, that I failed to even register how badly Vander was mistreating my Porsche in his outraged reaction.

  “My sentiments exactly,” I agreed as I allowed the mobile to rest on my lap once again. “I do not see any point in responding now.”

  “Neither do I,” Vander mumbled, and only seconds later, another chirping ring suddenly shattered the dour silence that descended between us. Vander gripped the wheel with his right hand, and with his left, he reached inside his pocket, producing another cell phone. “Vander,” he said in a rather inimical greeting. I could easily hear the high-pitched voice of a woman on the other side. “Sam, slow down,” Vander ordered. “And run that by me one more time.” He held the phone out before him and pushed the speaker button, which allowed the caller’s voice to be audible for us both to hear.

  “This is going to sound really strange, but I just got a weird message. It’s from a fellow witch at one of the bases, which was already taken over,” Samantha said. “I think she said she was calling from our BrokenView office,” she continued.

  “Hello, Samantha,” I said aloud. Common courtesy demanded that I politely inform Samantha that she could be heard by both of us.

  “Bram?” she asked, and the surprise in her voice was unconcealed.

  “The one and only,” I replied, and my short-term memory suddenly recalled her large, warm brown eyes and seductive body, upon which I had feasted on more than one occasion. Perhaps a short reunion was in order …

  “Okay, enough with the pleasantries,” Vander interrupted as he speared me with a discouraging frown. “What was the message, Sam?”

  “The witch said she saw Dulcie,” Samantha answered, and her voice began to sound winded as if her thoughts were going so fast, she could not keep up with them.

  “Where is Dulcie now?” Vander asked as he immediately leaned forward, and an alert expression of optimism appeared on his face.

  “The witch said she saw her about forty minutes ago, and she was still in the custody of Jax as well as two other creatures—a werewolf and a giant troll. They were heading into the
Netherworld, through portal thirteen,” Samantha finished.

  “Fuck!” Vander exclaimed as he hit the steering wheel again, this time, however, avoiding the horn.

  “Then I was correct in my assumption,” I said, keeping it mostly to myself. If Dulcie were already in the Netherworld, that explained why I could no longer track her by her blood.

  “Did the witch give you any more personal information about herself? And how did she relay this information to you, Sam?” Vander asked. “Did she reach you via a cell phone?”

  “I know nothing about her, except that she works at BrokenView,” Samantha answered. “And as for how she got that information to me, she was using her mind waves. So you don’t have to worry about anyone accidentally or purposefully intercepting it.” Witches shared the convenient ability to relay information to one another through a psychic connection that was exclusive to their minds. Any eavesdropping by others was forbidden. They were a highly magical and powerful species.

  “Okay, did she offer you anything else?” Vander asked.

  Samantha sighed in a way that suggested there was more information but it was not necessarily positive. “She sent me an imprint, but …” she started.

  “Okay, send it to me,” Vander interrupted.

  Samantha paused for a few seconds in obvious hesitation. “I don’t think I should. Knight, it’s pretty graphic, and there’s some stuff in it that might not be good for you to see at the moment,” she began to explain. “I have all the pertinent information for you, regardless. I know where Dulcie’s headed, and I know about what time she left.”

  “Sam, just send me the imprint,” Vander demanded as he took a deep breath and held it before exhaling it with audible force.

  Samantha stalled again. “I just watched the whole thing because I had no choice. I can honestly tell you, though, that I wish I hadn’t, Knight. I really don’t think …”