Eerie looked at John Parson with all-black eyes, a cluster of golden lights surrounding her in furious orbits.
The Outer Dark shivered, a wave of uncontrolled possibility passing through it.
“Enough! You’ve made your point,” John said, shaking his head. “I cannot force you. Yet.”
“I know that already,” Eerie said. “Don’t tell me things I already know.”
“I will make you a deal,” John said, sitting down again with a sigh. “I will give you a week to settle your affairs and enjoy what you can. Seven days, and then you must return to me of your free will.”
“Why would I agree to that?”
“I will be able to compel you to obey shortly, no matter your feelings. The more the Church wakes from its slumber, the greater my capabilities,” John said. “It is no sure thing that you could defeat me now. Those odds will only grow worse.”
“Still…”
“If you make me come for you, Ériu, it will be your friends, and your precious boyfriend, who pay the price for it. Even if you think you can resist me, do you truly believe you could protect them?”
“Only a week?” Eerie sighed. “You’re so stingy.”
“It is the best I can offer.”
Eerie frowned.
“Okay,” she said. “But I hate it.”
She spun around and took a step in a direction that was somewhere between up and away, and then she was gone.
“She really is fantastic,” John said admiringly. “We are deep within the Outer Dark, nearly on the threshold of the Church itself, and still she brushes me aside and then walks away. Remarkable.”
“I suppose I will have to incarnate again,” the fire grumbled. “To keep an eye on you, and on her.”
“On me? Whatever for?”
“Your agenda is personal. You do not have the Church’s interests in mind any longer. That alone bears watching.”
“And what of you, Samnang? I know that you’ve been thinking for yourself, since you met your sister’s remarkable gentleman friend.”
“He’s not that great,” Samnang muttered, from the depths of the fire. “He just takes the easiest way forward. That’s the same sort of decision making that I’m afraid you intend, Parson.”
“There are no easy ways.” John laughed. “Find yourself a more appropriate form, Miss Banh, and let’s go find Marcus. I’d like to see his roses in bloom one more time, before all his hard work is put to waste.”
“Go yourself,” Samnang said. “I’m after more engaging company than two sentimental old men.”
An outside observer would have had great difficulty telling which happened first – John Parson disappearing, or the fire going out. So absolute was the desolation of the Outer Dark, that only seconds after their mutual departure, it was impossible to imagine that there had ever been light or life there, however briefly.
This was a perfected darkness, as cold and remote as the stars on a clear night in the desert.
The night that never broke, the endless and silent reign of a permanent dark, the self-birthing triumph of entropy.
In this pure black extremity, the Church of Sleep began to manifest.
Three
Day One
There were more than two hundred children and teenagers crammed into several buses, with a caravan of hastily commandeered trucks and vans before and behind, all packed with Academy personnel, families, and refugees.
The going was slow, but they had left with the first light, intending to be in the Far Shores by nightfall, or at least before the next day dawned.
The first few checkpoints were easy. Rebecca overwhelmed the unprepared militia via a combination of bluster and empathy, and none made a serious attempt to stop or search the caravan. That couldn’t last, though, and they all knew it.
Rebecca sat as close to the front of the bus as possible, her hands clamped to the back of the driver’s seat, her stomach already roiled by motion sickness, her eyes clenched tight. The effort of controlling nearly three hundred emotionally fragile individuals drained the color from her face and made coherent thought impossible. Drawing upon reserves that she had never suspected that she possessed, Rebecca managed fears, channeled anxieties, and radiated calm and amiability.
“How is it going, Director?”
Gerald Windsor had to raise his voice to be heard over the rattle and thunk of the poorly maintained engine, even though he sat on the bench across the aisle from her, two of his Advanced Studies students tucked into the seat beside him.
“Can’t talk,” Rebecca said, her teeth chattering wildly. “It’s too much.”
The little blonde girl sitting next to Windsor leaned forward and looked at Rebecca with obvious concern.
“Mr. Windsor?” She tugged at the sleeve of his sport jacket. “Is Ms. Levy okay?”
“She is fine, but very burdened,” he explained. “She is keeping everyone calm and cooperative, and the effort required is…”
“I know,” the girl said, wide-eyed. “I can feel it.”
Rebecca glanced at the girl through slit eyes.
She had barely noticed her until she spoke, as she was preoccupied with the colossal task that threatened, even now, to overwhelm her. Probing the girl stealthily, Rebecca found her calm, excited as opposed to agitated, an almost complete absence of fear centered on a remarkable foundation of confidence and assurance.
Hello, Ms. Levy, the girl said, giving her a smile full of purple-tinted braces. Taking a closer look? I don’t mind.
Rebecca panted and shuddered, grappling with two impossibilities. The tremendous emotional pressure of the near-panic crowd, and then a question.
How had the girl noticed her probe? Even Alistair never noticed Rebecca’s prying.
The girl’s Etheric Signature lit like a signal flare.
Madison Morales-North, Rebecca thought, recalling the name with difficulty. Since when have you been able to dampen your Etheric Signature?
I learned to do it three months before I joined the Academy, Madison admitted. Why do you think my parents delayed me for an extra year? They wanted to be sure I could make it through your interview, Ms. Levy, without you noticing my abilities.
An M-Class empath, Rebecca marveled, sweat dripping from her bangs down into her eyes. And I never even realized.
My mother helped keep me clear of you, Madison thought. I called in sick every time you were visiting the Advanced Studies class.
You were sick a lot last year.
Don’t worry. My mom tutored me on those days.
Sophie Morales tutored you? Okay, you’re excused.
I’m worried about you, Ms. Levy, Madison said, leaning across Windsor to look into her eyes. This is too much for you.
I’m fine, kid. Don’t worry about it.
“That’s not true!” Madison objected, drawing a curious look from Windsor. “Can I help?”
“Madison!” Gerald pushed her back into her seat, shaking his head. “This isn’t the sort of thing we involve students in. There’s a very real danger…”
“Gerald, how long have you known?”
Windsor turned his attention back to Rebecca, a sheepish look on his long face.
“The better part of the year,” he said apologetically. “Madison took me into her confidence, you understand.”
“She’s already won you over? Fucking empaths,” Rebecca said, earning a glare from Windsor for the language. “We make everything difficult.”
Rebecca put her head between her knees, gall rising from her stomach and burning the back of her throat.
This is not easy, Rebecca thought at the girl. Are you sure you can handle it?
My mother can see the future, Ms. Levy, and my father is very good at making plans. She already told me what I need to do. My father didn’t leave me in your care, he told me to help look after everyone. You don’t need to worry at all, Ms. Levy. Just leave it to me.
It was as if the gravity that threatened to pull Rebecca through
the floor of the bus and down to the molten core of the earth dissipated, breaking across her shoulders like the surf and then dwindling away.
Rebecca wiped the sweat from her face and took a long, grateful breath.
She still had to shoulder part of the burden, but Madison radiated peace and goodwill toward humankind like a miniature supernova, a scrawny little sun in a pink skirt and a Pokémon T-shirt.
“Thanks, Madison,” Rebecca said, sighing as she sank back in the bench seat. “You’re a lifesaver.”
The girl beamed. Gerald patted her shoulder and smiled at her encouragingly.
“After this is over, I’ll want to meet with both of you,” Rebecca said, searching for her cigarettes. “We’re going to have a little talk about honesty and forthrightness,” Rebecca added, as both their faces fell. “And then a longer one about how little I appreciate being the last one to learn things.”
For once, Windsor did not feel empowered to stop her from smoking around the kids.
She’d burned the cigarette halfway to the filter, and was finally starting to relax, when the bus clattered to a stop.
“Hey, what’s the deal?” Rebecca said, leaning over the driver’s chair. “Why’d we stop?”
“There’s a roadblock, and a van ahead of us, parked on the side of the road,” the driver explained.
“So?”
“The advance vehicles say there’s someone inside.”
“So?” Rebecca demanded, her voice rising. “What’s the big deal?”
“Someone has to check it out,” the driver explained, calmly chewing a wad of gum. “Could be a trap. A bomb, you see, or…”
“For God’s sake!” Rebecca said, forcing the hydraulic doors open in a rage. “This day could not get any worse.”
Men poured out of the van as soon as she stepped from the bus.
They were all wearing masks and helmets, and there were five guns on her instantly. Rebecca walked toward them with her hands high and a big smile on her face.
“Come this way,” one of the men shouted, beckoning her closer to the improvised roadblock. “Slow and easy. Keep those hands up.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rebecca muttered. “What the hell do I need my hands for?”
She walked over slow and easy, which was fine, because it gave her time to probe their shielding. It was professional work, the kind of thing that took hours and the personal attention of a skilled telepath. Defenses like that didn’t last long after implanting, so they were reserved for Operators who were expected to see action.
Rebecca could have brushed their shields aside if some of her protocol was not already allotted toward keeping the civilians from panicking. Even with Madison’s aid, the burden was crushing, and Rebecca had little energy left to play around with.
The ambushers were professional soldiers, not a hastily assembled militia, she could tell that much. They were wary and excited, and some of them were Operators.
They had killed people already that day, and most of them were looking forward to another opportunity. Rebecca could feel the ugly edges of their thoughts as she approached, her smile growing more strained by the second.
“You know who I am, right? I’m the Director, and I’m fucking over it, so I’m putting my hands down now,” Rebecca said, doing just that. “Who are you people, and what are you doing?”
“You are a prisoner of the Thule Cartel, Director,” one of the soldiers said, holstering his gun. “We have orders to arrest anyone attempting to leave Central.”
“Your orders don’t mean shit,” Rebecca said, shaking out her hands. “This isn’t cartel business. These people are refugees, and they are under the protection of the Administration. Move your stupid roadblock and get out of my way.”
She was tired and distracted and worried about a thousand other things, but that wasn’t why one of the soldiers got away with bashing her in the side of the head with the butt of his gun.
It was more like she could not believe that he was actually going to do it until it had already happened, and she was halfway to the ground, clutching the side of her head and feeling blood trickle down her ear.
She felt the surge in fear from the buses and clamped down on it ruthlessly.
The anger in her chest swelled, and suddenly, Rebecca felt quite energetic.
She looked at the soldiers, who clambered over the roadblock to stand over her.
“You just messed up,” Rebecca said, touching behind her ear and getting blood on her fingers. “I hope you know that.”
They stirred and shifted. One tapped another on his shoulder, as if to prompt him.
“You are going back to the bus, and you are going tell everyone to get off, single-file,” the man said, giving her his best stern look. “Tell them to cooperate, because I’m warning you, I’m not feeling very patient this afternoon. Do you understand?”
“Do you understand what a terrible mistake you just made?” Rebecca asked, sitting down in the dust. “Have you really stopped to think about it?”
The soldier put his hand on his gun, and the rest stirred uncertainly.
“Go ahead and think it over,” Rebecca said, taking out her cigarettes. “I’ll wait.”
The soldier peeled off his helmet with one hand, while the other stayed firmly planted on his gun. He was brown-haired and swarthy beneath, with three days of stubble and two more of dust and travel on his face. His eyes were wide open, and his face was beaded with sweat.
“Morrison? What are you doing?” One of the other soldiers picked up his discarded helmet. “Snap out of it, man.”
Rebecca took a cigarette from her pack and put it in her mouth.
The soldier took his pistol out of the holster, and charged the weapon, staring at Rebecca the whole time.
“Morrison, calm down,” another soldier said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We want her alive. The bounty, remember?”
Tears started to dribble from the corners of his eyes, and the pistol trembled in his hands.
“I told you that you messed up.” Rebecca lit her cigarette. “Now you feel bad, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”
“Shut up, lady.” A soldier placed the muzzle of a submachine gun right next to Rebecca’s head. “One more word and I pull the trigger.”
“I’m done talking,” Rebecca said, exhaling a stream of smoke. “It’s just such a hard thing to live with, isn’t it? Feeling the way you do. And that isn’t even the worst part, is it?”
“Fuck the bounty, man,” one of the soldiers urged. “Just kill her.”
“The worst part is that you’ll never feel any better. It will always be exactly this bad, forever,” Rebecca said gravely. “I’ve permanently rebalanced your brain chemistry. That despair you feel, the way it makes your chest hurt? That’s your new best friend. The anxiety that makes you wanna scream and tear your hair out? That’s here to stay. You’ll never feel a moment’s peace or calm. You’ll never feel pleasure or joy. I’ve destroyed your capacity to even understand the concept of happiness.”
The soldiers reeled, or cried out, or clutched their heads.
“You’ll never get another night’s sleep, and you’ll never want to do anything ever again,” Rebecca continued, talking over their histrionics. “The next time you see your children, you’ll feel nothing but their disappointment in you. You won’t remember your lover’s name, and you won’t be able to pick your mom out of a crowd. You’ll be alone forever, with nothing to distract you from how fucking miserable you are. No one will ever touch you or want you or love you, because you are the worst failure of the entire human race.”
The soldiers stumbled and wailed and wept as if they were at a funeral.
“You know what to do, right? There’s only way to make it stop. You all know what to do,” Rebecca said. “My head hurts, you know? I’m trying to save a bunch of kids, and you assholes get in the way and yell orders and fucking hit me. What the hell? I probably have a concussion and that’s your faul
t. You know how to apologize, don’t you? It’s the least you can do, to make it up to me, and the world. And your mom. Because we are all so disappointed in you.”
The soldier kneeling in front of her sobbed and put his gun to his head.
“Not here, you miserable bastard,” Rebecca said, flicking her cigarette at him. “Go over there, around the rocks. I don’t want the kids to see. Consider someone else’s feelings for once in your life.”
***
Alex walked away to relieve himself. Katya waited and watched the trees bend and shake in the wind, lost in more worries than she could keep track of, an unpleasant and weighty sensation settling in her chest like flies on discarded food. She wished that she had done any number of things differently. She wished that she had told Alex the truth from the beginning, or that he had been the kind of person she would have liked and trusted right from the start.
She wished they had more beer.
She wished Mr. Windsor were more morally flexible, or at least in proximity.
Anything really, to try and fill the nervous emptiness she felt.
The leaves danced and fluttered, and in between swirling displays, lay limp and perfectly still, as if exhausted by their efforts.
“I know you are having a moment,” Emily said gently, crouching beside her. “But I’ve been waiting here quietly for a while, hoping you would notice me.”
“I noticed you before you saw me,” Katya said. “I just didn’t feel like talking to you.”
“That’s fine!” Emily said, laughing. “I’m actually looking for Alex.”
“Of course you are,” Katya said, rubbing her eyes. “What are you up to now?”
“I’m not happy about what has happened to me, or to any of us. I’m going to end any possibility of the same thing happening to anyone else,” Emily said seriously. “I need Alex’s help with one teensy little part of that.”
“You do?” Alex pushed his way through the bushes into the clearing. “I don’t mind, probably. Depends on what you want.”
“How generous of you,” Emily said. “I’ve only thrown myself at you, and cooked for you, and cared for you, and saved your life how many times?”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 9
