The Crystal Tower (The Ethereal Vision Book 3)

by Liam Donnelly

  Jane took a step back toward her. “What is it?”

  Ciara looked up. “I’m not sure. Something else is here with us.” Ciara paused and looked up, first at the buildings and then at the junction ahead of them. “I can still feel the presence of the person who’s following us, but there’s still something—or someone—else.” She frowned, almost wincing, and Jane could feel the strength of her psychic focus. She practically reeled at it. The sonic hum of her friend’s telepathic reach radiated from her mind, and Jane’s eyes narrowed as she focused on keeping her own thoughts clear of the effect.

  “I can’t see what it is. Something’s blocking me.” Dazed and clearly concerned, Ciara glanced over her shoulder. “But I do know he’s still following us.”

  The three followed her gaze, and a moment later, a lone figure stepped onto the street, just two hundred feet from them. From this distance, Jane could tell he wasn’t more than fourteen or fifteen years old. The same blue light she had seen before brimmed from his eyes. A dagger of fear pierced her heart, and her eyes grew wide as she immediately sensed the serious threat that this individual posed.

  “We have to get away from him,” Mike said in a flat, firm tone. It was an irrefutable statement.

  Jane glanced at him to see his eyes wide open and locked with the young teenager in the distance.

  “Yes, but—” Ciara tried to say.

  “No buts. We don’t have a choice,” Morris said, interrupting her. It was an obvious realization that came upon them in unison, and Jane agreed with it completely. “Come on.” Taking Jane’s hand, Morris led them straight out and onto 42nd Street. A few seconds later, Jane looked over her shoulder and noticed that the young man had disappeared.

  Ciara, what happened? she asked, worry creeping into her voice.

  I don’t know, Jane. Something’s going on. He stopped following us.

  The four were now standing in the middle of the street, which was devoid of traffic. Jane looked east. Directly ahead, in the distance, she saw the front entrance of Grand Central Station and the Park Avenue Viaduct, which was also clear. The pressure of being followed had left her mind, and now Jane realized what Ciara had been referring to.

  Just a hundred feet ahead was something just as dangerous waiting for them. A line of men and women dressed in black fatigues had formed, surrounding a group of heavily armed and guarded vehicles. These were not the vans that had chased them previously; they were large, sleek, dark colored. Their exteriors had been equipped with advanced weaponry. Jane heard the slamming of doors as more men and women poured from the vehicles, training weapons at them.

  Next, she heard a dull buzzing sound, and then she saw its source: four drones flew in from over the buildings surrounding them. She had not seen this kind of configuration on a drone before. Weapons compartments opened from beneath their structures as they took position over the contingent and turned, so that both she and her friends were in their firing line. Fretfully, she glanced up and down Madison Avenue to see scores of similarly dressed men and women pouring out from concealed spots and carrying weapons. They formed lines across both ends of the street, blocking their exit in either direction. Glancing over her shoulder, Jane saw that the same thing was happening just sixty feet behind them; more men and women were crossing the street there from either side, taking up positions and aiming sophisticated weapons at the four.

  Jane glanced back east then and watched in revulsion, her stomach turning as one final door slammed shut like a crescendo. After that, the road fell into silence, save for the low humming sound of the engines from the drones that hovered overhead. As Lucas slowly stepped forward and stood in front of the line of men and women, Jane felt rage well up inside her. Her teeth clenched and her jaw locked as she glared at him.

  As he stepped closer, Jane saw that he had changed; his demeanor was no longer that of someone who took orders. No, it was apparent to her that Lucas had taken control of things himself, and he had elected to answer to nobody. This worried her, but only minutely. At the core of it, she still thought there was something comically stupid about the man. Finally, the only remaining sound of any great note in the vicinity—the sound of Lucas’s shoes as he stepped forward—ceased as he took position in front of his contingent.

  Jane took another quick glance around the vicinity, noting how many enemies were on the field in front of them. Then she locked eyes with Lucas again.

  ***

  As Max opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the gentle breeze that blew across his cheeks. Through blurred vision, something green came into view; it was the leaves that swayed in the branches on the trees above him. He frowned, trying to remember what had happened.

  “You passed out,” he heard someone say.

  A surge of adrenaline rushed through him. At any other time, he would have reached into his body with his mind to control the reaction, but he couldn’t; he wasn’t yet strong enough. Instead, he slowly pushed himself into a seating position and leaned against the tree behind him. Sensing that the presence near him—a female—was not a threat, he took his time. Allowing his eyes to open and close, Max felt his strength slowly return as he watched through a gap in the trees directly ahead along a path that had been worn over time. He had been so occupied by everything that had happened, he hadn’t had a second to consider—or reminisce about—the beauty of this world. He glanced up to his left, where, through a gap in the swaying branches, he saw, as though a frame, a patch of blue sky, where seagulls flew high. In the distance, he heard the sound they made as they hunted. He smiled as he gazed at them. That simple sight itself returned more of his strength.

  Then, remembering that someone had spoken to him, he turned his head slowly to the left to see a tall, slender woman standing in the green, just five feet away. She was wearing a black cloak like his own. His eyes opened wide, and he took a sharp breath as he realized immediately who it was. She had been looking away from him, toward an area blanketed more fully with trees. Then she turned around to glance at him, and her cloak fluttered open in the breeze.

  “I can see why you wear this garment,” she said. “It’s the most obvious choice. The clothing these mortals wear is…bizarre, to say the least.”

  For a moment, he had no response. He scanned her quickly with his mind.

  “Yes, I’ve taken mortal form, in a manner of speaking—for the moment, anyway. Not in the same way you did, though.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. “It’s not permanent.”

  Struggling, he grabbed a nearby tree root and tried to lift himself to his feet. A surge of pain shot through his arm and he almost vomited, though nothing was in his stomach to come out. The pain sent his mind reeling. Never experienced that before, he thought. He had forgotten the injury he had sustained when he impacted the ground here previously. Max took a few deep breaths, focused his mind, and reached into the bone with his psychic vision. Easily finding the crack, he repaired it within seconds, and after a moment, the pain was gone. Then, only an unfamiliar itching sensation remained.

  Max’s second attempt to stand was a success, and he glanced around at the beauty of the area around him. Somewhere in the distance, he heard waves lapping gently at a nearby shore. Then he turned his attention back to her. “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly, knowing he was addressing one of the only beings in this universe whose commands he could not—and would not—deny. She was quite possibly the most powerful being in the cosmos.

  For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then, slowly, she turned and stared in the direction of the bridge. “That bridge could have been destroyed. Thousands of people would have died. Remind you of anything?”

  He looked in the other direction, towards the water, reluctant to remember the ancient trauma to which she was referring. “Of course. That’s why I came back—”

  I know why you came back, Max, she said, switching deftly to telepathic communication.

  The sound of her voice was so powerf
ul, his sight wavered for a moment. She turned to face him again.

  Don’t worry, your strength will return. Gazing up and down his body, she continued. But you’re not going to last much longer. You’ve already aged ten years in human terms. You can channel the vast energies of the psychic plane, just as before and as much as you want. She stared intently into his eyes. You can heal yourself even, but the rules of mortality—the so-called contract you entered when you took mortal form again—cannot be broken. You know that. How much more power can you channel through that body before it turns to ash?

  Max glanced away from her, knowing she was right and unsure of what to say. I’ll make it, he said finally, looking back at her.

  She shook her head gently. No, you won’t. She held his gaze, and Max was sure he could detect sympathy in her voice and in her gait. I know why you interfered. I’ve been in your position before, and trust me; most of the time, it doesn’t end well.

  So, why don’t you help me?

  Because I learned my lesson.

  But this civilization was—

  Was on the precipice of breakthrough! Yes. that’s true, she said, raising her voice. But it hasn’t quite reached it yet.

  But he’s—

  Zatera. His name’s Zatera.

  Yes, but…he doesn’t go by that name anymore, Max said, looking at her through weary eyes. I mean, he’s so far beyond any kind of natural existence, is it even appropriate to ascribe a name to him at this point?

  A moment of silence passed between them, as she seemed to consider this.

  Well, I suppose I don’t really care what he calls himself, she replied. She pursed her lips and folded her arms.

  Max thought this was an incredibly human gesture for a being who wanted to distance herself from mortal affairs. He took a deep breath before continuing. Construction of that tower is moving very fast. Once it’s built…I mean, doesn’t that bother you?

  Of course, she answered, frowning slightly. She unfolded her arms and placed them behind her back. Then she turned toward the path where beautiful trees swayed in the spring breeze. Walk with me, she said, moving in that direction.

  Max hesitated a moment. Then, with one final glance at the tree onto which he was holding, he took a breath and followed her.

  You know, it’s not all about you, she said as he trailed her. Finally, he caught up to her and they walked in unison. Jane has been given something.

  I saw, yes. But she’s mortal. How can she possibly hope to contain something like that? Or use it responsibly? I barely even know what it is!

  Yes. These are important questions. For a moment, she said nothing, merely looked at the leaves as they swished in the trees above them. They continued onward. But, she said, I think this time, the best thing we can do is trust. We know now that the Nexus is real. We know it exists. I was watching, and I heard Its voice. If It trusted Jane enough to give her that, I have no choice but to trust It too. She glanced up at Max, her face relaxed, but after a moment, an almost solemn expression appeared on her features. Maybe that’s what we needed all along. Maybe it’s the mortality we lack that is a part of our weakness.

  Max thought about this and nodded.

  She shook her head gently and glanced down. But you still have work to do. After a moment, she looked back up at the trees. She had long, straight black hair, and as a gentle wind picked up around them, running through the trail ahead, her hair flew off her shoulders. Max thought her appearance to be quite beautiful. With some reluctance, and a thinly veiled hint of responsibility, she said, And perhaps I do, too.

  Max stopped walking. You mean, you’re actually going to do something?

  If it comes to it. We put our minds together, and parsed out more than a thousand different eventualities. Many of them necessitate my involvement. And It was right. Jane is important. This small planet and its populace are important. This could be the first species to cross the precipice in several millennia. Stopping, she turned and faced him. He did the same. I’m already considering tasks for Jane in the future. If we can defeat him.

  Well…I’m astonished, Max said, elated. Then he realized she had left something glaring out of the discussion. What happens to me?

  Do you care?

  Yes—and no, as, of course, you understand quite well.

  Cryptic, but concise, she said, nodding. Good. If I’m needed, I’ll return. She sighed and regarded him for a moment in silence before continuing. I can’t reverse the aging, she said as her eyes drifted from one part of his body to another. When you signed up for a mortal existence, you signed up for that, too. But we can’t wait for your power to be restored. That could take hours or longer, and they need you now.

  Max squinted at her. Without further warning, she placed her right hand on his shoulder. His mouth gaped open as a blaze of white light erupted from her palm. A surge of life rushed through his veins. The light filled the area, and when it faded, she was gone.

  Max looked down at his palms and clenched them, once again enlivened, with all trace of pain gone from his body. Without further thought, he looked up and took flight, ripping leaves off the trees as he rose in his immediate, abrupt velocity. The leaves followed him in a brief wake, but he was far too fast for them, and they fluttered around the treetops, caught in a momentary vortex. Within moments, he was flying high over the water, heading east at hypersonic velocity.

  ***

  “Hello, Jane,” Lucas half spoke, half yelled across the distance that separated them. His hands were clasped behind his back and he wore a beige trench coat. Beneath it, she saw that he was wearing black fatigues.

  She winced. A stinging pain grew in her right palm, streaking up through her wrist and into her forearm. For the moment, she didn’t look at it, but as the seconds passed, heat began building up there; she was shocked to find that her hand was getting hotter. Still, she kept her expression stoic as she glared back at him.

  “What do you want?” Mike yelled back before Jane could answer.

  She glanced at him, surprised; she could feel anger coming off his body in waves. Ciara was standing next to him, paying barely any attention to what was happening on the street ahead of them; she was still looking at the direction from which they had come. Then, while she was looking away, she spoke to Jane.

  He’s still there, Jane, she said. He’s in the background, walking along the streets. He’s looking for… you. And waiting for an opportunity. Ciara turned and looked at Jane, her eyes weary with the tiredness all the focus had caused her. I think he might believe that this—Lucas—could become an opportunity for him somehow.

  “I want several things,” Lucas shouted.

  Though his voice sent a slight shudder through her and cut off the sound of Ciara’s telepathic warning, Jane took her time in turning around, refusing to show—or, indeed, even acknowledge—any weakness to this man. As she faced them, she became even more aware of the hundred or so men and women who had weapons trained on them. Reaching out with her mind’s eye, she felt hundreds of fingers trembling over triggers. She closed her eyes for a second and took a breath. In that moment of clarity, her hand burned hotter still, and now she couldn’t resist looking down at it. As she did, she saw that at the center, a dim white light had begun growing. It was a small, gently swirling luminescence. She continued looking at it for a moment, feeling a mixture of both awe and fear before hiding her hand behind her back and facing Lucas again.

  “There is a person to whom you appear to have an association. Do you know who I’m referring to?”

  Jane thought, and after a moment she frowned. He couldn’t possibly mean Max, could he?

  “The man in the black cloak?” Lucas tilted his head. “I think you know who I’m talking about?”

  She had been correct. Her lip curled with the trace of a smile. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Reflexively, she began giggling and noticed that the men and women who had trained weapons on her flinched. Jane shook her
head in both disgust and disbelief.

  “Lucas. You poor, poor man,” she said, laughing out loud again.

  Her three friends were glaring at her now in shock.

  What the hell are you doing? Morris asked.

  “Let me guess,” Jane continued, ignoring Morris, “someone saw footage of him and decided he was a better, more interesting target than the Machine—the Atlantic Object. Or myself perhaps.” She paused, her lips pursed, her eyes wide and unafraid. “Am I correct?”

  Lucas squinted and took a half step backward.

  Though Jane had 90 percent of her focus on Lucas, she was still concerned about Ciara, whose attention was far off in the distance. Again, she heard another warning from her friend.

  Jane, we’re in serious danger here. Not just from Lucas. I have his name now. It’s Elliot. There’s power coming off him in waves. He’s far more dangerous than—

  Got it, Ciara, Jane replied, cutting her off. Her hand was burning now, and beneath her solid veneer, she had, in that moment, become secretly afraid of it, though she kept her face clear of any sign of that emotion. What had the Rose given her? What was she now capable of? She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Still, she couldn’t help playing with Lucas, her disdain of him having grown to such proportions that for the moment, her welfare had become of secondary concern.

  “OK then, Lucas. If you want him, you’ll have to tell me his name. Otherwise, I won’t know exactly whom you’re talking about, and I won’t be able to help you.” Jane saw Lucas frown. “You do…know his name, don’t you?”