by Mark Jeffrey
“How are your ribs holding up?” Logan asked.
“The ache a bit, but I’m fine,” Max replied. “You patched me up pretty well. Thanks again for that.”
Logan nodded mutely as he leaned over to pick up a walking stick. “My old bones need this to lean on,” he said almost apologetically. Then a crease of hesitation filled his forehead. “Max … I wonder: what will you say to the Resistance? Why will they now befriend you?”
Max shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“He’s a swell guy!” Cody said jauntily. “I’m sure they’ll take to him like frosting on a birthday cake!”
Logan ignored Cody. “And what of your previous refusal to fight by their side? Have you now reconsidered?”
Max sighed. “I don’t know.” His watery eyes bounced around as he sought to express himself properly. “I don’t want to repeat the mistake of the Machine. Yet, Romani told me I might need to fight directly this time. And the Archons are so devilishly clever that either choice might be right — or wrong.”
“So you haven’t decided yet.”
“No,” Max replied. “And that’s okay. Because I have decided that I’m going to just see what feels right when I get there. I’m not going to have any hard and fast rules anymore. I’m done trying to second guess the Archons.”
“I think if you trust yourself, you’ll find your way,” Logan said with a nod. “I think your words are wise.”
“Thanks, Logan.” He regarded the old Indian — with his scrunched-up raisin-face — with a new respect. “I’m starting to see why Casey and Sasha like you so much.”
“And me,” Cody said. “You forgot about me. Me too.”
A small smile played at the edges of Logan’s dried-out lips but he said nothing further.
THEY GAINED Snake Island by nightfall by way of a canoe Logan had previously hidden at the south end of Mirror Lake.
Together, silently, they pushed the the craft out onto the glass-like surface of the water under the broad and fierce starlight. It slid along the lake gracefully, barely making a sound. Wordlessly, they paddled.
Logan’s and Cody’s stokes slipped in and out of the water without a single splash; both were hot knives through butter. At first, Max struggled to match them — but the physical act of paddling caused him to recall a skill for this he had acquired long ago. Ah yes. He had once spent time with Indians — long before white people had come to America. He had been with Enki, visiting with the Lakota. After a few initial sloppy plunks of paddle, Max’s technique shifted to match the perfection of his companions. Logan grunted in surprised approval.
It wasn’t long before they reached the rocky edge of Snake Island’s far side.
Once they’d hidden the canoe beneath an outcropping of bushes, Logan, Cody and Max made their away to the other side of the island where the entrance to the Resistance base was. When they arrived, Max paused, staring down at the rock wall that was really a concealed doorway.
“Not sure what we should do now,” Max said. “Just knock?”
Logan shrugged. “We could sneak in, like I’ve done in the past. But I figure it would be better to be polite. Let them feel like they’re in control. But this is all rather moot. You’re not going to have to make this decision.”
“Why’s that?” Max rasped, and instantly felt a gun muzzle poked into his back.
“Get up,” a voice behind him said. At the same time, Max saw that Logan and Cody were likewise threatened.
Max groaned.
“Don’t worry,” Logan said. “It’s better this way.”
That was when Max realized that this was what Logan had had in mind all along.
IT TOOK THE guards awhile to figure out just exactly who it was they had captured. Max, Cody and Logan had been placed in a holding cell together and had been left alone for nearly an hour. But as they had been escorted through the base on the way to this cell, Max had seen that it was humming with new activity.
Something fundamental had changed here since his last visit.
For one, some of the Sky Chambers were severely damaged. And there were markedly less of them. The Resistance had evidently sustained huge losses. For another, tempers flared up everywhere he looked: shouting and berating were commonplace. Sharp words and sharp voices had become the norm.
When they had been put into their cells, the guards had asked their names: Max told them his, and was met with a snort of derision as though this were a tasteless joke. Max insisted he was serious and that he needed to speak to Ulrich — but the door had clanged shut before the name Ulrich could even make it to the guard’s ear.
But an hour later, was an altogether different affair.
The cell door was yanked open. Ten or more men stood at the ready, weapons trained on Max. Max raised his hands, as did Logan and Cody. “Offer no resistance,” Logan said quietly.
Max chewed curses and longed to turn into a pillar of star-fire, but he fought the urge.
Ulrich stepped forward from a cordon of guards. “So. It really is you.”
Max nodded. “I’m not here for a fight,” he said evenly. “I’m here to help. I wouldn’t have come back otherwise.”
A glint of rage rose in Ulrich’s eye. Then, he snarled. “Things are different now.”
“I can see that,” Max replied carefully. “Looks like you’ve all been through a lot.”
“You sure you’re not happy about that?’
Max shook his head. “Of course not. Why would I be happy? I want the same thing you do: I want the Bondsman destroyed.”
Ulrich studied him, regarding him like he might be made of unstable dynamite. “We’ll see about that. Come with me.”
The trio was hurried down a hallway with weapons trained on them. Max counted twenty-six guards in total. They were herded through a series of passageways until they arrived in the same command center that Max had been in during his previous visit.
Max was shocked to see Casey and Ian seated one side of the long table.
Then, he caught sight of Jane Willow: she, too, was covered with a huge retinue of guards. They had also taken the precaution of gagging her with some kind of bit, presumably to keep her from using the her power of music and melody.
Marvin Sparkle was here as well. His massive form barely fit into an extra-large chair someone had provided especially for him. He regarded Max darkly from across the table as though he had been personally betrayed.
And Maurice stood next to him, fidgeting. He clearly did not like being in a military setting — it unnerved him.
But this was all nothing compared to the utter shock on Casey’s face when she beheld Cody Chance and Logan White-Cloud. She gaped and a hand flew up to her mouth. Her eyes darted between the two of them.
“Hiya, Casey Cyranus. It’s me this time, the real, and by that I mean Cody Chance. And look what I found in the desert: this little, old drowned rat right here.” He nodded to Logan White-Cloud with a wink.
Casey’s eyes brimmed with tears. She couldn’t even say the word Cody, it stuck in her throat, along with the word Impossible.
“Hello Casey,” Logan said for her with a wide crooked grin. “Yes, it is me.”
“You remember me?” Casey managed to sputter in between sobs.
“Yes,” Logan said. “How could I ever forget you?”
“No … I mean yes … but I mean Cody … ?”
“Yes,” Cody said with the widest toothpaste commercial smile he could manage. “This time I remember everything. You are one helluva kisser, lady. That’s what done it!” For a moment, Cody was so goofy it seemed like he wasn’t even in a room with multiple guns pointed at him and his friends.
“The Bondsman’s got Sasha. And Enki,” Casey said. “Oh Cody! Logan!” Disregarding the warning hisses of the Resistance guards, she ran to Cody and threw her arms around his neck, sobs of happiness wracking her.
Max watched uncomfortably. Casey hadn’t even spoken to him. Other than an initial registering of his presen
ce, she had acted as if he were not there at all.
This was not entirely a surprise. The last time he had seen Casey, he had jumped in front of a bullet — her bullet — aimed at the heart of the Bondsman. He had stopped her assassination attempt.
As she slipped her arms from Cody’s neck, she cast a quick, cold furtive look at Max. Mute accusations were flung at him from that gaze, from her twin light green eyes.
Then Casey was pulled away by the guards and returned to Ian’s side. Max watched as she receded and then his eyes caught Ian’s. Ian raised a hand and waved lamely. Max nodded in return.
But then, he was startled by the sight of Jane Willow. She was shrieking with her gaze.
“What are you doing here?” Max asked Ian.
“Got caught,” Ian said. “Not that we resisted much, given the state we were in. We needed the help. Our old friend Marvin Sparkle here picked us up not far from the Bondsman rally. He was surprised to find us: it seems he was tracking you, Max, to that rally — he must have just missed you by a day or two. Anyway, he fed us and hid us in the Durango — you know, his car. And then he brought us back here. Do you know I just met Planet Fur —?”
“Just you and Casey?’ Max asked, cutting him off.
Ian nodded: his eyes filled with sudden shame at the memory losing Sasha. “But we’re going to get them back. Marvin’s going to help. The Resistance is going to help.”
Ulrich took the floor. “I’m going to cut right to the chase, because there’s no easy way to say this — and no reason to delay further.” Watch out, Max said to himself. There are long knives here. His eyes slid back to Jane: she squirmed in her bindings.
“The last time you were here, Max … we took your DNA. Without your knowledge, of course. We don’t apologize for that. We lifted it from the Battle Throne, from where your hands were when you flew it. And now, we’ve taken a sample from your friend here with the gag — this Jane Willow, as she calls herself. She got here a few days before you did. She stood outside of our front door and banged on it until we let her in. So we did our standard thing were her as well: we took her DNA.
“Want to hear something funny? You and her have the exact same DNA. You’re twins. Or clones.”
Max’s head reeled. This was new knowledge … but it was also not somehow. His mind bifurcated: he was in two places at once. He was here with the Resistance —
— And he was back in Cyranus, Italy. With Giovanni di Cyranus.
And with his sister … Jane Willow … she had been there as well. Another daughter of Anu. A sibling like Enki and even Enlil … but unlike them, Jane and Max shared the same mother.
He didn’t recall all the details yet, but he did know they had been allies, back in Cyranus. They had a common purpose, which was to … what? Something to do with Siren. He recalled that much. That, and that hey had worked against him.
Was she really a twin? Or a clone?
Max knew that the Archons prized his genetics. They had manipulated generations to produce them, to coax the specific pattern they prized into existence. An Imaginal, Romani had called him. A world-bender, one who could reshape reality.
Certainly, they would clone such a one, if they could.
Or try for twins. It made sense. Why settle for just one? Why not go for as many as possible?
Max studied her features beneath her art-deco short blonde flapper girl bob. Yes, they looked similar, but not identical. He wouldn’t have pegged her for his own twin. But if she shared his genetics, she was an Imaginal as well.
“Here’s what else,” Ulrich continued. His neck throbbed with red tension. “Some time ago, one of our spies in the City-State of the World Emperor managed to do something that’s never been accomplished before: we got a sample of the Bondsman’s DNA.”
Everyone was stunned by this news. All heads whipped towards Ulrich. Apparently, this was not common knowledge.
… the Bondsman’s DNA …
Max dreaded the next sentence to come out of Ulrich’s mouth.
“It’s a perfect match for you, Max. And for Jane Willow.”
Max was already shaking his head, No. No. There’s no way.
Casey’s eyes stabbed at him immediately.
“And before you go there, yes, yes, we’re sure. We lost a lot of good people getting it, you wouldn’t believe what we had to go through. And we are completely, one hundred percent, totally certain that it’s genuine. And we’re also one hundred percent certain that it matches you two.”
It’s her, Max thought. It has to be Jane Willow.
Jane Willow is the Bondsman.
But Casey wasn’t thinking this. Her eyes ground into Max like she was surveying a beast. She thought it was him, he could see it in her eyes. She was suddenly certain.
Why else had he protected the Bondsman from her bullets?
Everyone was silent. Jane Willow’s eyes spun like daggers.
Suddenly, she lit up with star-power — the same star-power Max had. She was an Imaginal, just like him! Then it hit him: Jane Willow didn’t actually need music to do what she did, she never needed it. Rather, it was just her way of focusing her Imaginal abilities, attenuating them, making them surgical, precise, instead of the battering-ram way Max himself used the power.
But if she wanted to, she could also be every bit the battering ram he was.
Comets and meteors and sunflame crashed along her milky skin, white-hot and blinding. Her gag was incinerated with a flicker of thought, as were the rest of her restraints.
She had allowed herself to be captured, tied down by the Resistance! It had been a ruse the entire time, simply to gather information.
Ulrich’s eyes flew wide. He gaped at Jane Willow with this new understanding as well.
Max answered with his own immolation. He became a pillar of white fire, a djinn of flame.
Casey screeched and drew the Red Roses. Ian covered himself in armor defensively, like a hermit crab donning a shell.
The Resistance guards fired at Max and Jane, who simply vaporized every bullet in mid-air.
Logan White-Cloud hit the floor and warded himself with his flailing arms as best as he could. Even with guns of his own, he was outmatched by the power here.
Max considered for a moment, and then whooshed. He tore down the hallways, a shambling monster made of stars.
But a monster with a purpose, he knew where he was going. He only prayed that they had not moved it. As he rounded corners one after another, he pushed members of the Resistance out of his way, being careful to injure no one.
As he entered the room, relief poured through him. It was here!
The silver Battle Throne.
It was right where he’d left it. Of course it was, he chided himself. Nobody else could move it except for him.
As he sat in it another whoosh-blur wreathed in white flame entered the room. It sat in the other Battle Throne, the one composed of folded black steel leaves.
Jane Willow.
They both dropped their flames for a moment and stared at each other, panting.
“It’s you,” they both said at once.
“Well, it has to be one of us,” Willow said quickly. “And I know it’s not me.”
Max felt like he could hear the Bondsman laughing somewhere in the background noise of the base.
“Well, it’s not me!” Max insisted. “I’m telling you Jane, it is NOT!”
Max opened his mouth to continue but then he heard Ian cry out, “Casey! No! That’s Max! You can’t do this!”
Casey Cyranus tore into the room, eyes like pinwheels, both Red Roses drawn. Max saw their intricate and eldritch designs swirling, swirling …
She aimed them directly at Max and took a position in front of his chair, blocking him from Jane Willow. And there, she stopped.
“Casey. No. Don’t. It’s not me,” Max pleaded. “You have to believe me. It’s her! And you’re standing in my way, you have to move …”
“No!” Casey shouted, voice we
t with rage. “You’re the one who defended the Bondsman! I could have killed him, just like I killed Blackthorne! All of this would be over already if it weren’t for you. Dammit, you took a bullet for the Bondsman! How could you do something like that?”
“Casey,” Max said, exasperation seeping into his voice. “Look at me. My fire is down. You’re in control here. With those guns … and your speed, you can shoot me faster then I could possibly raise it again. So take a second and just listen.
“The reason I stopped you from killing the Bondsman was because you were making a terrible mistake. He was trying to goad you into shooting him. So that you would become more like him. The Archons feed on hate. And you’d become so filled with hatred that you were willing to shoot someone over it. That’s what they —“
“Yes!” Casey rasped. “I was willing to shoot the Bondsman! Not just ‘a someone’, Max, the Bondsman! The person who is causing more suffering in the world than anyone ever! Some people have to be taken down. They have to be eliminated. Like Jadeth. Like Blackthorne. And even you took down Madworth. Because that’s what you have to do sometimes.”
Casey stepped closer, but her hands did not shake. The Red Roses were hers, fused with her, and they steadied her. Max stared into the barrels of the twin theurgic irons, two gaping holes, two hungry mouths, ready to feed on his life at a moment’s notice. All Casey had to do was squeeze the trigger.
“So what are you going to do?” Max asked her.
During all of this, Jane Willow had not dropped her fire. She remained as she was, watching this exchange raptly. And the room was starting to fill with guards, barking orders and pointing weapons, but afraid to interfere in whatever was going on. The sight of Max and Jane Willow in Battle Thrones unnerved them.
“My father was right about you,” she grated. Johnny Siren. “All those years ago. I don’t know what you did to make him hate you. And I never thought that it was possible that I’d one day think he might have been right. But now —“ She dropped her head and let out a fresh sob of anguish. “Now, I’m starting to see things his way.”
Max shook his head. “It’s the Machines that are everywhere here. It’s the Dream. The influence of the Bondsman. Casey, it’s feeding your hate. He gets you to be more like him.”
