A device pops out of the circle and clatters on the stone. Helen grabs it and turns it on. Words immediately fill the screen.
WE ARE CALIBRATING STAY THERE DON’T MOVE
The piano music is louder still. Now it sounds as if it is coming from right over Helen’s shoulder. She stands, still looking for the source. The notes get louder and louder, drowning out her thoughts.
“Helen?” Henry says. “It says, thirty seconds.”
“Helen?” Henry stands and looks at his sister.
Helen turns to face her brother, next to the circle in the floor. She smiles at him.
Henry looks at the device. “Okay, three, two, one, now! Now, Helen! Ready?”
Helen puts her hands on Henry’s arms and looks him in the eyes.
“Henry, I’m sorry, but I’ve got something I have to do. You be safe and take care of Clarence until I get there.”
Helen kisses Henry on the cheek, and pushes him into the circle.
“No!” Henry screams, flailing his arms as he stumbles in. But he cannot regain his balance and he is gone.
Henry calls out for Helen, and then for Renata. He feels weightless. He sees nothing. He tries to move and to see, but he can’t. He feels his body being pulled, out of his control.
“It’s okay, Henry,” a voice says. It’s Renata.
“What?” Henry says. “Renata? Where are you?”
“It’s okay,” Renata says. “I was there to help you. Don’t worry about me.”
“But where are you?” Henry asks.
“Don’t worry,” Renata says again. “You made me, Henry. You needed a companion, someone to help you figure out what to do. To keep you calm. But I’m just a part of you. Be free, now.”
Henry falls, and falls, and then hits something so hard that it knocks all of the air out of his lungs. He tries to get up, but everything spins and he loses consciousness.
Kate engulfs Henry in her arms and rocks back and forth on her knees. She brushes back his hair and looks at his face. “He’s not breathing.”
On cue Henry sucks in a gulp of air and begins gasping like a fish on land.
“Mom!” Henry says, suddenly animated, although still short of breath. “Helen pushed me in. She didn’t come, Mom. She said she had to do something. I couldn’t hold on…”
“We know,” Kate says, stroking Henry’s hair. “You’ve been out cold. We knew when she didn’t come through that something had happened. We tried to get a hold of her, but she’s not responding.”
“Hey, kid,” Gabriel says, crouching down to take a look at Henry. All the body parts seem to be present. “You came through at a high rate of speed. Sorry about the hard landing.”
“I’m okay,” Henry says. “Dad, Helen didn’t come. She said she had to do something. What would she have to do? I thought she was there to get me. She didn’t come…” Now he’s repeating himself. His head feels fuzzy.
Christopher is on his stomach in front of a bank of monitors and components wired together. Daniel sits cross-legged next to him.
“We’ll get her, Henry,” Christopher says. “If we can’t go to her, we’ll bring her to us.”
“No doubt,” Daniel agrees. “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”
Henry looks around at the monitors and pieces of equipment everywhere. Wires run all over the floor and even into the circle at the center.
Wait, the circle at the center?
Henry realizes he is in the same room he was before, except now it seems older. More complete. There are walls and doors and windows. Like they finished building it.
“This is the same place!” Henry says. “It’s exactly the same as where I was. Except, different. It’s old, or something.”
“That’s right,” Daniel says. “You were in a unique layer of a time-space rift. You should’ve seen the version I got. It was nothing but a ruined foundation.”
“But they’re all anchored to this one spot,” Gabriel says, pointing at the circle. “That’s the point of convergence. This rift has more layers than a high rise parking garage. Looks like Monder has been busy splitting the thing apart. Probably looking for a way out.”
Henry fishes papers out of his pockets. “Look. I drew maps. With all different levels. They go on top of each other. And they all have this tree, see? This is how we found the spot. The tree in the circle.”
“There it is indeed,” Daniel says. “Look at that. Watchmaker maps out of a kid’s head. That’s amazing. I want to know how you do that, Henry.”
“I don’t know,” Henry says. “They were just there. Like I already knew about them. But I didn’t. The people in there made me write them down.”
“I know; I saw you,” Daniel says.
“Where? In my room?” Henry says. “But nobody…”
“Only for a second,” Daniel explains. “I wasn’t spying on you. That would be creepy.”
“The whole thing is creepy,” Gabriel points out.
“But why didn’t Helen come back with me?” Henry’s voice is rising. “How will we get her back now? She said she could hear music. But I couldn’t hear it. What are we going to do?” Tears well up in Henry’s eyes. “I left her, Mom!”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Henry,” Kate says. “Helen made her own decision. We don’t know why. But we have to help her. If we can figure out how.”
“Whatever Helen is after, it has to do with Monder,” Christopher says. “I pulled messages out of one of the machines we took from Council headquarters. They were pretty scrambled, but at some point, it looks like Monder contacted Helen and tried to get her to trade the fragment for Henry. That’s probably when she took the fragment and went into the rift herself.”
“But she got me back! I’m right here,” Henry cries. “She did her job. We’re done. Finished. Why didn’t she come out?”
“We’re not in the driver’s seat at present, kid,” Gabriel says. “We don’t exactly know. I realize that’s not a satisfying answer.”
“Can I go back in and get her?” Henry asks. “I was just there. I know how.”
“No way, kid; although that is a very brave offer,” Gabriel says. “You of all people know how complicated the rift is. We can’t tell which layer she’s on. You came through, and then we lost hold of the spot. So if we sent you back in, who knows where—or when—you would end up.”
“Henry, does Helen still have the fragment?” Anna asks.
“Yeah, it’s around her neck,” Henry says. “She said it was Monder bait, whatever that means. I thought we were trying to get away from Monder, not catch him.”
“We can’t close the rift now, not with Helen and Monder and both fragments in there,” Gabriel says. He’s begun pacing around again.
A low hum comes from outside and Anna and Kate immediately recognize the unmistakable sound of flying ‘toms. It sounds like a large number of them, too. Far more of them than they battled with out on the road.
Clarence runs to the front door and starts barking. Clarence almost never barks.
Anna joins Clarence in the doorway. She can see right away that they’ve got a sizeable problem.
“Everybody, positions!” Anna shouts, grabbing a weapon leaning against the wall. “We’ve got ‘toms.”
Everyone jumps up to prepare, grabbing weapons and heading for vantage points. Gabriel and Kate take up positions at the back while Anna and Daniel head for the front. Christopher and Henry remain by the circle to monitor the equipment and scan for any sign of Helen. Time is running short.
Anna snaps a round, amber-colored viewing glass over her eye and peers through it at the approaching cloud.
“It’s a big number,” Anna calls out. “We’re going to need to work fast.”
“Just to be clear, I have zero experience with shooting down flying things,” Daniel says. “I’m generally a pacifist.”
“I can appreciate that, Daniel,” Anna says. “However, if you don’t want to be torn apart, this may be a good time to take o
n a different perspective. At least temporarily.”
“Fair enough,” Daniel says, and powers up an energy gun, resting its barrel on the windowsill. “Tell me when to fire.”
The hum turns to a whine and the flying onslaught sweeps into range. “You can take out a bunch with one shot,” Anna says. “The ‘toms are buckets of bolts, refurbished critters mostly. They don’t think for themselves too well; they’re meant to be expendable and to act as a unit. So aim for the big groups.”
“Big groups, got it,” Daniel says. “Big groups.”
“Fire!” Anna shouts, and begins shooting out the window. Hundreds of flying creatures pour over the tops of the trees, their engines and mechanics buzzing and whining. The first few shots take out dozens of them and send pieces and parts raining onto the ground. Others, though, get through and are slamming into the walls.
Anna grabs a tiny drive and shoves it into the side of her weapon. The drive is loaded with scramblers—bits of code designed to disable the ‘toms’ navigation. She fires again, and this time many of the ‘toms suddenly fly out of control and dive into the ground.
“Keep firing. They’ll break through the windows!” Anna says. But she can already hear shattering glass upstairs. They can’t protect the whole structure; they don’t have enough people.
In the back, the tree cover is making it difficult for Kate and Gabriel to see the ‘toms coming. They listen intently for the clanking and whining of the creatures’ mechanical parts, firing frantically the second they come into view.
Christopher keeps tweaking the equipment, hoping for any kind of signal from Helen, or the fragment, or anything. All he can bring up is static. And his head is pounding.
And why can’t he see anything? He clutches at his skull, but the pain is deep inside behind his eyes. Eyes. There are those yellow eyes again, but this time they look different. Everything looks different. And in a flash, Christopher has an idea.
“Hey Henry, hand me some of those maps of yours,” Christopher says, still holding onto his forehead with one hand.
Henry passes Christopher the papers. Christopher pages through them, holding them up to the screen. His face contorts with pain and he can barely open his eyes.
“Uncle Chris, are you okay?” Henry asks.
“Yeah, kid,” Christopher says, “but I need your help. I need you to send a message at the right second. When I tell you. I need you to write something. Can you do that for me?”
Henry nods.
Christopher jumps up and grabs the Shard from its spot by the wall.
They can hear windows smashing in all directions now. They know there are ‘toms pouring into every room.
Helen is walking, turning her head, trying to determine where the music is coming from. She passes through double doors, her boots creaking on the wooden floors of the outer rooms. She is sure she can find the source by listening for it to get louder.
But no matter which direction Helen goes, the music does not change. It becomes no louder or softer, seems no closer or farther away. The waltz repeats again and again. Helen crosses another threshold, and another, climbs up one staircase and then descends a different one. She runs her hand along the top of an elaborately carved banister of mahogany. Was that banister there before? She can’t remember. The next room now has windows and finished walls. In the halls the columns now reach to the ceiling where before they were incomplete. She has the uneasy feeling she is in a new version of the underground tunnels from before; a space that is building itself as she moves through it.
Helen touches the fragment around her neck and is surprised to find that it is warm. She lifts it up and looks at it. The broken edge has a pale orange glow. She must be getting closer to the other fragment, and maybe to Monder. But where is he?
She passes a doorway and for a split second she can swear the music is just a tiny bit louder. She backs up, goes forward again. Sure enough, there’s a miniscule change, not much, but enough. She turns and follows it.
Now she can hear the music below her, coming from somewhere on the first floor. Is she going in circles? Is this some kind of game? She reminds herself to focus, keep as calm as she can. No need to send things spinning out of control again. She can’t afford that. She must stay alert.
Helen reaches the bottom of another staircase and from here the music is decidedly louder. She can see a series of doors along a central hall, all of them closed except for one which stands open only a crack. Cautiously she approaches the open door and pushes on it. Here the music is much louder. She peeks in and spies the leg of a piano, a drape of black fabric. Here, finally, is the source of the Chopin waltz.
Helen enters the room cautiously. A black grand piano, its lid propped open, sits at the far end of an enormous room in front of a wall of windows overlooking a green forest. It is the same room where Helen started, but now the labyrinth in the floor is complete and the stone shines. The walls are covered in carved wood panels and ornate tapestries depicting mythical monsters in red and gold thread.
Monder sits at the piano with his eyes shut, swaying as he plays. There’s a skeleton sitting on a stool behind him, wearing the other fragment around its neck. This second fragment glows orange just as Helen’s does. Monder’s robes, covered in black-on-black scrolled patterns, cascade onto the floor. His collar sits high behind his head and his wrists emerge from immaculate white cuffs.
“Ah! Here you are,” Monder says, continuing to play. “I knew, given enough time, you would find me.”
Helen says nothing. She looks carefully around the room, plannng her approach. All she needs is one shot, one chance to dissolve the Tromindox. Her blood will break him down into a pile of dust. She has imagined this moment so many times, but now that she’s actually here, the prospect of slaying a seven-foot-tall shape shifter seems much more complicated than it did in her head.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Monder says, still playing. “Chopin. So many composers. I’ve yet to hear them all. It takes time. I do love Schubert.”
“You’ve put up a good fight, Helen Silverwood,” Monder continues. “I shall mention this when I am out and about in the world. Give you Silverwoods a good legend. Since you’ll be extinct, that’s the least we can do.
“You’re not going to get out and about,” Helen says.
Monder stops playing and sets his long hands in his lap.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Monder says, “did you think this was about me breaking out? Escaping from my terrible rift where I am helplessly imprisoned? I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
“I’ve been out already. I can leave whenever I want.”
The gears turn in Helen’s head. The fragments, the quest to bring the Shard here, the maps, even taking Henry—it was all, bait. A ruse, to bring the Silverwoods to a single location. She sees it now. All of it. And now her family is gathered together, along with the fragments and even the Shard. All by design.
“No, dear,” Monder goes on, “this isn’t about me getting out. This is about the Silverwoods going in—into the ground. And now, here you are. Here you all are. The clan leadership and its future leadership. If you want to kill a beast, cut off the head.”
Before Helen can respond, something shoots into her stomach and she stumbles backward. She doubles over, dropping to her knees. She grabs onto the thing and tries to pull it out but it won’t budge. What is it? She looks down. It’s shiny and black with barbs like enormous porcupine quills. And it’s still attached to Monder.
“Lot of good your special blood will do you, spilled all over,” Monder says.
This makes no sense. How is Monder immune? Why does he not dissolve?
“I need very little to kill you, stupid child,” Monder says, walking toward her. “Just a sharp object. Anything will do. A butter knife. Doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry, anyway.”
“Oh, and I don’t need that fragment thing you are wearing, either. But I’ll take it, just the same. It will look nice with the other one.” He reaches
down and snaps the chain from around Helen’s neck. Then he does a light tiptoe dance as he moves back. “Oh, I’d better be careful not to step on the magic blood, hadn’t I?”
With each breath the claw digs deeper into Helen’s abdomen. She clutches at it with her hand, trying desperately to keep it from stabbing all the way through her body, but the barbs cut into her palm and she feels as if her hand will split in two.
Monder yanks his arm, setting the quill loose like a lizard’s tail. He is unharmed, but Helen is pinned down like an insect in a lab. His tentacle rolls back up into his robes and he straightens his sleeve as he turns to walk back toward the piano.
“Has your mother ever told you how I came to be in this place, Helen?” Monder says, running a finger along the piano’s edge. “Has Kate ever shared the story of how she should have been the one imprisoned instead of me?”
Helen can say nothing. Her insides are on fire. Her head rolls back on the floor. She tries to clear her sight, to find the circle at the center of the floor. Where is it?
“I didn’t think so,” Monder says. “Why would Kate want to lower her standing in the eyes of her own children? Because I must say, you would admire her a great deal less if you knew what really happened. Do you want to know what happened?”
Helen can taste blood in her mouth.
“Kate Silverwood hasn’t always been dirty bounty hunter scum,” Monder says. “Oh, no. Her real career, her calling if you will, was that of an assassin. And she was good at it—so I heard. Yes, a real professional killer. But you see, eventually she murdered one of her own. And in doing so, she also murdered someone very important to me.”
The barbs burn Helen’s hand, but she can’t let go or she’ll get gutted. Her vision narrows and she can’t get enough air.
“Yes, Kate Silverwood, assassin,” Monder says. “I suppose the job carries certain risks. Like, for example, taking the life of the wrong person. Not that she cared, mind you. Your mother is accustomed to killing. But when she was faced with a choice, whether to let her own family member live or die, she chose die. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her victim was both human and Tromindox, yes. But regardless of her genetic makeup, she had the right to live. And Kate Silverwood took that right away from her. And in doing so, she took her away from me.”
Silver Shard Page 21
