He knew that a precisely calibrated stew of treated nanites and psychedelic extracts were spreading through the waist-deep water and would soon begin to cross Alistair’s permeable skin and seep into his blood, if he did not decide to hurry it along and drink. He even knew what would likely happen, based on Emily Muir’s previous visit.
A third infusion had been prepared, but not yet introduced, waiting on his command. It was a deadly poison, derived from samples taken from the Changeling’s prior victims.
It would not take long, or very much, to ensure that Alistair never left the chamber.
All that was required was for him to issue a telepathic instruction.
Gaul considered it until his back started to ache.
He headed back up to the house, meaning to check on Gabriela, and then, perhaps, have a serious discussion regarding her future.
***
Katya pulled three desks together in one of the classrooms into a makeshift bed, and then lay down across them, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing.
She wasn’t sure if it was more comfortable, but it seemed more dignified than lying on the floor.
The door opened, but Katya did not bother to open her eyes until she felt a presence beside her.
Eerie stood next to her, looking very nervous.
“I got your note,” Katya said, stretching. “Please don’t put notes in my food again, okay?”
“Sorry,” Eerie said, sitting down on the desk nearest Katya’s head. “Where else, though?”
“Just come talk to me,” Katya suggested. “We are both sleeping in the same building.”
“You are busy a lot,” Eerie said. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”
“I don’t blame you for that. What do you want to talk about?”
“Club stuff,” Eerie said conspiratorially. “We have planned an activity!”
“An activity?” Katya opened her eyes and gave Eerie a look of concern. “Not that I don’t want to hang out, but don’t you have just a couple days left? Are you sure you want to spend part of that time with us?”
“Yes, of course!” Eerie leaned her head over Katya’s, so that her hair formed a cerulean screen that blocked out the room. “Besides, if the activity goes well, I won’t have to leave, and time won’t be as much of an issue.”
Katya almost banged her forehead into Eerie’s, she sat up so fast.
“What are you talking about?”
“Vivik told me all about it, and you’ll never guess who knows how to make it all better.” Eerie climbed across the desks to whisper in Katya’s ear. “Gaul Thule knows! We are going to make him tell us!”
Katya’s expression hardened.
“Does he really? So, he’s still alive. That’s very interesting.”
“It is, isn’t it? We are gonna fix everything!”
“Your tune has certainly changed since the other night, hasn’t it?” Katya rubbed her eyes. “How are you going to make him cooperate? I don’t think he’s just gonna volunteer the information, you know.”
“Emily will help,” Eerie explained. “Vivik has favors.”
“Emily, huh?” Katya considered it. “That might work, if Alex helps.”
“Yes,” Eerie agreed. “I don’t like that part.”
“I don’t blame you. I would want Emily Muir far, far away from my boyfriend, if I had a boyfriend.”
“I’m so glad you understand,” Eerie said. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend? I think you could get one, if you wanted.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Katya said, smirking. “It’s not so easy for me, though. I’m picky.”
“I’m picky, too.”
“I don’t know about ‘picky’,” Katya said. “You are ‘specific’, maybe.”
“I like boys who don’t talk all the time, and I like them to be taller than me. What do you like, Katya?”
“I shouldn’t even tell you,” Katya said, glancing around. “But I’m honestly going nuts, it’s been so long now, so what the hell. I like authority figures.”
“I don’t get it,” Eerie said. “What do you mean?”
“I mostly like older guys. Commanding officers and teachers. Preferably my bosses and teachers.”
“Oh, wow,” Eerie said. “That’s different!”
“Isn’t it? I can’t help it at all,” Katya said. “I think maybe it’s Anastasia’s fault. I’m so used to being bossed around, I guess maybe I started to like it.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Eerie said. “This is what friends do, I think.”
“I think so, too,” Katya agreed. “Do we have a plan? We need to get there and back, and deal with security. Have you thought about all of that?”
“I hoped you would do that part, because you would know best,” Eerie said. “Does that mean you are interested in the club activity?”
“Yeah, I’m very interested,” Katya said, rubbing her lower back. “After all the time I’ve put into this club, did you really think I’d quit now?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were allowed to come,” Eerie said. “Because of the Auditors, or Anastasia.”
“I’m not really sure if I’m an Auditor anymore. If I am, then I’m already in big trouble, so what’s the difference?” Katya shrugged. “I’m not worried.”
“What about Anastasia? She’s the scary one.”
“Ana wants Gaul Thule dead, however that happens.” Katya cracked her knuckles. “I didn’t get him the first time, but if I can just get close to him again, I’ll take care of him for sure.”
“Yeah. For sure!” Eerie touched Katya’s arm. “You will wait until we find out the secret, right?”
“I promise,” Katya said, laughing. “First, we find out how to beat the Church of Sleep, then I kill the fucker. Deal?”
“Deal!” Eerie gave Katya a conspiratorial look. “I found where they hide the junk food at the commissary. Do you want to have some snacks?”
“Always. To my regret,” Katya said. “Lead the way.”
They walked to the commissary. The smoke from Central was more prominent than yesterday, staining half the sky the color of espresso, but the storms still held along the coast, menacing the Far Shores at a constant distance.
“Oh, wow. I forgot to tell you,” Eerie breathed, turning her dilated eyes on Katya. “Alex told me that he loves me!”
“Uh, yeah,” Katya said, grinning. “Congratulations, I guess?”
“Thank you,” Eerie said. “That sort of makes tonight our first official night together as lovers. Do you have any advice?”
“I don’t know! Uh, have fun?”
“No, no. I’m serious!”
“I’m the worst person to ask. I’m bad at all of it,” Katya said. “I haven’t dated anyone in…never mind. You’ll be fine. You guys have already done stuff, right?”
“Yes, but I think this should be important. Special.”
“I think you should find someone else to talk to about this.”
“There is no one else,” Eerie said. “Who else can I ask? Emily?”
“Okay, I see that,” Katya said. “Uh, let me think for a second…”
Eerie stared hopefully while Katya frowned and pulled at her lip.
“I got it,” Katya said. “Ready?”
“Oh, yes,” Eerie nodded. “Very ready.”
Katya leaned close and lowered her voice.
“You wanna hold something back at first. Leave it to his imagination, you see.”
Katya looked about conspiratorially, and then leaned close, cupping her hand around Eerie’s ear as she started to whisper.
Eerie’s already wide eyes widened further.
Katya continued to whisper while the color rose in Eerie’s cheeks.
“O-okay,” Eerie said, looking disconcerted. “You think he wants to…do that?”
“In my experience, boys always do,” Katya said. “Always.”
“I hate to interrupt, I really do,” Emily said, entering the commissary wearing a huge gr
in. “But what in the world are the two of you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Katya said.
“Nothing,” Eerie echoed.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Emily said, laughing. “Do you want my advice, Eerie dear?”
“I’m not sure,” Eerie said. “Maybe tell me anyway?”
“If you insist,” Emily said. “I just wanted to warn you not to let Alex break your heart. Though he never means to be, he can be quite cruel.” Emily hesitated, a smile wavering at the edges of her lips. “Well, you know already, don’t you? He loses interest easily.”
There was an awkward silence, broken by Emily’s laughter.
“He really is the least romantic boy,” Emily said. “Don’t you think?”
“I don’t! I really don’t,” Eerie insisted. “Maybe that was just you?”
“Maybe it was,” Emily agreed. “You should get going, dear. Alex is waiting.”
Eerie gave Emily an ambiguous look and then Katya a hopeful one before running off.
“That was a little harsh,” Katya said quietly. “You gonna make it through the night?”
“I’ll be fine,” Emily assured her. “I probably deserved that.”
“I don’t know,” Katya said. “This shit is not my thing.”
“Is that so?” Emily smiled. “You’ve given up on love and romance entirely?”
“I don’t think I ever believed in it in the first place. The rest of you can worry about that stuff. I’ll focus on trying not to die too young.”
“That’s too bad. I’d feel sorry for you,” Emily said, squinting at a point just above Katya’s head, “but I don’t entirely believe you.”
“Really?”
“White lies don’t work very well on empaths, dear.”
“Keep yourself out of my private life, thank you very much,” Katya said. “I don’t comment on yours, okay?”
“You can if you want to,” Emily said, shrugging. “I don’t mind.”
“You know what? Sure. Why not?” Katya glared at her. “You need to get over Alex. It was pathetic and desperate before, but at least you had the excuse of your parents making you do it. Now no one is making you do anything, and it’s even more pathetic and desperate. It’s a bad look, the crazy ex-girlfriend thing.”
“That’s not me, I assure you,” Emily said stiffly. “It was never that important to me, and I moved on some time ago. There’s nothing more to it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t entirely believe you.”
Katya stomped off.
Emily stood in silence for a while after she left, processing.
Renton limped into the commissary, a crutch beneath his armpit, and made straight for the pantry. Emily ignored him while he searched the shelves.
“You need better friends,” Renton said, biting a bread stick in half. “Such ungrateful behavior!”
“That is mostly you, Renton,” Emily said. “Please don’t eavesdrop.”
“That’s not the point. Just let me finish, okay? They come to the Far Shores, and they eat your food, and they don’t say thank you…”
“They did.”
“…and they break things in your house…”
“They did no such thing!” Emily looked appalled. “Right?”
“…and they stomp all over your feelings, and say selfish things, and generally only worry about themselves,” Renton said, stopping just in front of her. “They argue and squabble and flirt and scheme, and they do all of it in front of you, like you aren’t even there. Like you don’t matter at all.”
Emily looked at Renton without comment.
“They do whatever they want and expect you to come running every time they get in trouble,” Renton said. “Then they leave you alone. When did you volunteer to be everyone’s mom? It’s not fair.”
Emily looked at the floor for quite a while, before nodding.
“You aren’t entirely wrong,” Emily said softly. “Thank you, Renton. That was unexpectedly thoughtful.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Renton said, stroking a lock of her hair. “Wanna invite me back to your place?”
“Never. Not in a million years, not if the species depended on it,” Emily said, smiling. “Not if you were the actual last man on Earth. Do lock up on your way out, won’t you?”
Emily hurried out of the commissary.
Renton watched her go, bemused.
“Fine, then,” Renton said, heading for the door. “I guess we all get our feelings hurt.”
***
His sense of composure held for what felt like a little while, though time was elastic, in the wet darkness beneath the Thule compound. He waded about in the flooded chambers, which were sporadically lit by patches of faintly luminous moss, and poked his head in the various vaults and corridors, running his fingers across carvings in the stone that he could not see, but was somehow aware of before he even reached to touch them.
The carvings were like those in the oldest parts of Central, the parts that had escaped the attempt to scour the infrastructure. He was certain that the language was the same, even without being able to see or recognize a single character.
He was equally certain that pronouncing some of the words carved into the entrances to the vaults and the arches overhead would have killed him instantly, or devoured his mind, leaving behind only the outer skein of his brain, like a deflated balloon.
The Consuming Words were the least of the lexicon.
There was narrative in these walls, a context emphasized by the design of the dim arcades and corridors, partially submerged and never touched by the sun or wind of the outer world. It was the specific angles and dimensions, something about the way the outlines intermingled, when he stood in certain places, or looked into the near-dark long enough.
His throat became dry immediately. He knew it was psychosomatic, but thirst nagged him as he explored.
He was not entirely sure whether his telepathy did not work, or if there were simply no minds in range. Earth and stone were not typically impediments to telepathic contact, but nothing about this watery dungeon seemed typical. He could not reach the Network either, likely as a function of the same blocking or shielding effect.
Triggering an Anathema transformation seemed like a risky move under these circumstances, but he was almost tempted to try and drift out of there as a cloud of ash.
The only other option was admitting the he was naked and powerless, trapped in the dark, in water that had been doped and poisoned.
He considered it, but then he remembered Gabby.
Alistair grinned in the dark, thinking about Gaul dryly explaining to her the new arrangement, her discomfort or even outright distaste.
It helped.
The space below the manor was impossible to map in his head. His attempts to remember turns or gauge distances were confused and fruitless. The water was blood warm and the air was completely still, but he started shivering when he held still.
Gaul had warned him that the hallucinogenic toxin in the water was dermally active, but he had not mentioned how long it took to get into the bloodstream.
He might have been hallucinating already, Alistair thought, peering hard into the darkness. His environment had been stripped of normalcy, depriving him of any ability to identify the abnormal.
His thighs started to ache after an uncertain amount of time, wandering among the watery alcoves. The moss had become scarce the further he went, and he had to hold his arms out in front of him to prevent collision with an unseen wall.
The corridor was lined with vaults. Each of the vaults was separated from the rest of the underground by a stone ring, too sharp and narrow to rest or even lean upon, which kept the waters within discrete from those without.
Many of these vaults were devoid of moss, and therefore perfectly dark. He chose one at random, and wandered as far into it as he dared, his heart beating frantically in his chest at the thought of losing his way back to the main chamber. He walked in a straight line, his left hand
on the wall.
The floor of the vault had a slight slope, and before long, he was up to his neck in tainted water and afraid to go any further.
Alistair marveled at the terror he felt as he followed the wall back out of the vault. Was it the drugs, he wondered, or was it simply a natural response to his bizarre surroundings?
As with everything in that moist darkness, there was no way to be certain. That was by design, he suspected.
One vault followed another the deeper he went.
His eyes began to adjust, and he was able to pick out general shapes and lines in a dim light without obvious source.
Alistair was starting to suspect that the vaults were mausoleums or crypts.
He found no remains, no urns or tombs, but each vault had a name carved into the arch above the entrance. It was the only text he had found on the walls so far that was not in the lost language of Central.
The languages varied, but the characters were conventional and mundane, and the length was appropriate for a family name.
He counted fourteen vaults and then he stopped counting.
He passed another vault, and then another, and then suddenly lost his nerve.
All at once his self-possession collapsed, and he spun about in the dark, desperate to find somewhere to retreat. He was slick with an unfamiliar, greasy sweat, and his limbs felt slick and weightless.
He tried to run, despite the water. He exhausted himself in the effort, stumbling and splashing every few steps. Alistair had forgotten direction, forgotten further and back, so that he knew only flight. There was no ambient light, and no moss, wherever he was, and the blackness about him was almost total.
As Alistair fled, his mind tied itself in knots, worrying over whether this was a conventional darkness or not. Was it possible that, in their madness and hubris, the Thule Cartel had somehow imported a portion of that primordial darkness into the vault below their ancestral manor?
Was this the dark beneath the earth?
Or was he lost in the Outer Dark?
The very thought of that aborted universe, absent light and motion and life, goaded him on.
There was no thought of whether he was headed further in, or on his way out. The distinction between the two was too small to matter in comparison to the anxiety that had settled behind his ribs. That he got away was the only consideration. The necessity of escape precluded such considerations as ‘where’, and ‘why’.
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 53
