“I remember,” Alex said. “Believe me.”
“If there is no Ether, then you can’t use your protocol, either,” Alistair said, moving forward. “It’s just you and me and a knife, Alex, one more time.”
Alistair feinted with the knife and then connected with an uppercut that snapped Alex’s head back. He swiped the blade at Alex’s face, and Alex flitted to the side, throwing a low kick that Alistair shrugged off. Alex slipped a right cross and dipped sideways to avoid a thrust, but Alistair only feinted with his knife hand. Alex retreated clumsily, nearly tripping over his own feet as he changed direction. Alistair struck Alex’s knee with a solid front kick, and then followed with a short elbow and a quick swipe that drew blood from both of Alex’s forearms.
They disengaged and resumed circling. Alex’s breathing was ragged, and the shine had gone from his eyes.
“You’re still dead,” Alistair sneered. “You’re just going to die slower now.”
Alistair hopped forward and swung wildly, and Alex retreated and parried, absorbing more punishment while avoiding the worst of it. His forearms had been cut to pieces while in guard, and strips of skin dangled when he moved. His face was swollen and aching, and one of his eyes was already half-shut.
Alex tried to stay light on his feet and keep his hands up, his eyes always on the reddened blade in Alistair’s right hand.
They engaged suddenly, Alistair shuffling forward behind a flurry of feints and thrusts. Alex fell back before the dancing blade, parrying and slipping, eating punches and elbows to stay clear of the knife. He threw a cross that connected with the meat beneath Alistair’s ribs as he stepped back, which earned him a grunt and a thrust that nearly severed his left earlobe. He kicked Alistair in the shins, tried to roll with a punch that shunted his jaw to the side, and then leapt back, retreating hurriedly.
“Did you think it would be different?” Alistair asked, wiping the blood from his knife on his sleeve. “Did you think your little trick would put us on the same level?”
He lunged, and the tip of his knife slipped between ballistic plates to sink into Alex’s pectoral muscle. Alex cried out and jumped back, narrowly avoiding a slash that passed agonizingly close to his eyes.
“If you can’t learn from experience, then you might as well die,” Alistair said. “Way of the world, kid.”
Alistair advanced and Alex stumbled back.
Moving forward after a quick feint to the right, Alistair’s next lunge was so powerful that Alex was barely able to parry. Alex’s feet got twisted as he moved, and he tripped and fell to his knees, which just saved him from the blade that passed by his throat as he tumbled.
Alex rolled and braced himself for the frigid pain of the knife sliding into him.
The blade glanced off the ballistic plating on his back, cutting the harness instead.
Alex stepped clear, shedding the torn harness.
Alistair smiled and feinted left. Alex moved to the right and knew immediately that he had made a terrible mistake.
The knife sank into his side, and only stopped when Alex caught Alistair’s wrist with both hands. It felt as if he had stuck an icicle into Alex, and the agony was immense.
“Fucking kid,” Alistair said, cuffing him in the side of the head. “Just die already.”
Alex first thought that the sound was in his head, phantom audio caused by the trauma of the knife penetrating his side. Then Alistair jerked to the side like he had a fishhook caught beneath his arm, and Alex knew that it had been a gunshot.
Alistair ripped the knife out of Alex, and the pain was so great that he would have fallen over if Alistair had not caught him from behind. He pressed the blade to Alex’s throat, just hard enough to break the skin and spill blood down his neck.
Katya sat a little distance away on the rim of a nearby planter, bandaged and swollen, a matte pistol in her remaining hand. The scratches and staining on her knees and forearms made it clear that she had crawled part of the way to her position.
“I thought you were dead, assassin,” Alistair said pleasantly. “My mistake.”
“Let Alex go,” Katya suggested. “That will make it easier to kill you.”
“You’re not much of a negotiator,” Alistair said. “It would be rude not to make a counteroffer, I suppose. How about this? I slit his throat, and then take my time with you while he bleeds out.”
Katya took aim.
“You think you know everything,” Alex said, twisting in Alistair’s grip, heedless of the way the edge of the knife sliced his neck. “What makes you think I can’t use my protocol?”
He grabbed hold of Alistair’s ear and pulled. Alistair changed his grip on the knife.
Alistair stabbed him in the chest, and Alex felt the tip of the knife skitter along his ribcage. Alex’s fingertips brushed against Alistair’s cheek.
The Absolute Protocol activated like a well-oiled engine turning over.
Alistair’s head froze, hoary feathers of frost growing from his supercooled flesh, and crystals of ice protruding from his eyes and mouth. Alex pushed him aside, and he tumbled over. The knife clattered to the ground, and only then did Alex feel as if he might pass out.
Katya hobbled over, using the planter for balance.
“Holy shit! Are you okay? Is he…?”
“Let’s make sure,” Alex said, kneeling beside Alistair and putting his hands on his chest. “Give me a second.”
“Alex, your protocol. Don’t…”
He ignored her, closing his eyes.
He was careful with the breach. It had to be big enough for his purpose, but not so large as to cause a local calamity. The Absolute Protocol operated with slavish obedience, and he needed only a moment of focus and an ocean of resolve to expel most of Alistair’s chest and head into the Ether.
“Oh my God!” Katya exclaimed, starting back. “That is so gross!”
Alex had to agree. The remaining portion of Alastair’s body spasmed, expelling fluids from the severed torso. He flinched, but still got some of the gore on his hands.
“Fuck me,” Katya said, grabbing his shoulder. “Alex, do you know what you just did?”
Alex nodded wearily.
“I think so,” he said, pulling his ragged shirt over his head. “No one will miss him.”
“That was Alistair,” Katya said, helping him with the shirt. “The former Chief Auditor! You killed him, dummy. You know how many people have tried to do that and failed?”
“A lot, probably,” Alex said, allowing Katya to examine the shallow stab wound in his chest, and the deeper one in his side. “He was a dick, so...”
Alex sat down faster than he meant to, dropping onto his ass in the dirt.
“Everybody was afraid of that guy,” Katya said, sitting down beside him. “I can’t believe it! I guess you really are an Auditor now, huh?”
“I guess,” Alex said, lying down. “Am I going to die?”
“I don’t think so,” Katya said, looking him over. “I think he missed most of the important parts.”
“Most? That sounds bad.”
“It’s not that bad. All your organs are still on the inside. Nothing to worry about.” Katya gestured at the bodies scattered across the commons. “One of these bastards has to have been carrying a first aid kit. As soon as you feel better, you can find one, and I’ll get you patched up.”
Alex took the bottle from his pocket and swallowed two of the little blue footballs dry, the pills threatening to lodge in his throat and choke him for several seconds before he managed to force them down. His eyelids felt weighted, and each time he closed his eyes, the effort required to open them was greater.
He was drifting when he was startled back to awareness by a smack across the face.
Katya was kneeling over him, looking concerned.
“You can’t fall asleep,” she told him, shaking a can of antibiotic spray. “Remember?”
She sprayed about half the can on his side, and the combination of instant col
d and pain had him writhing.
“Shit!” Alex shivered. “You could have warned me.”
“I had to crawl to get this. Be grateful. You were being so cool a minute ago,” Katya said, applying the rest of the spray to his various wounds. “Don’t ruin it by acting like a baby now.”
He was quiet while she finished the application.
“I was cool?”
“Pretty cool,” Katya confirmed, peeling a trauma bandage from its appliqué. “Consider me impressed. I didn’t even think an Anathema could be killed.”
“Marcus told me that nanites need Ether to do anything,” Alex explained, biting his lip as she applied the bandage. “No Ether, no protocols, but even better, no regeneration. I can kill them, Katya,” Alex said, the conviction in his voice causing her to pause. “I can kill all of the Anathema, if I have to.”
Katya looked at him strangely for a moment, then went back to treating his injuries. She had to tear the packages open with her teeth, and then slap the trauma patches across his injury with her remaining hand. Alex straightened and smoothed them after the pain of the application faded.
“Don’t talk like that, okay?” She pressed another patch to his chest. “I need at least one person I know not to be a complete psychopath.”
“It’s the truth,” Alex insisted. “I figured it out.”
“Did you? I’m impressed,” Katya said, painting liquid bandage on his shredded forearms. “I figured Emily had something to do with it.”
“She made some suggestions,” Alex said defensively. “But I figured out how to do it on my own.”
“Relax! I’m impressed, like I said.” Katya examined her work critically. “If you were older, and less goofy looking, and not my cousin, I’d probably be at least a little bit into you.”
“I’m a distant cousin. Just saying.”
“If you can make jokes, then you’re gonna live.” Katya glanced at the bloody rags on the grass beside him. “Your shirt, on the other hand, is a total goner. Let me see if I can find something in this kit bag I dragged over here…”
Katya searched clumsily through the bag while Alex watched, the exhaustion sinking into his bones, his mind drifting but not exactly toward sleep. He felt as if there were an enormous grey wall of clouds at the edge of his mind, waiting to roll in with the dusk.
“This might work,” Katya said, holding up a green T-shirt. “I’m not in love with the V-neck, but it’s better than having you walk around shirtless.”
“It’ll be fine,” Alex said, reaching for the shirt. His wounds immediately made him regret that decision. “We need to move.”
“Okay,” Katya said. “Where do we need to go?”
“How did you get here in the first place?”
“Marcus convinced me to come here,” Katya said. “He said you’d need my help.”
“He was right,” Alex said. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I need to find Eerie, somehow,” Alex said, pulling the shirt on with one-handed assistance from Katya. “I need you to find Ms. Gallow and Ms. Levy. Tell them what’s going on and get them to come to the Main Library and help. Before we all die, if possible.”
Katya shook her head slowly.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Katya said, giving the bloody bandages at the end of her severed leg a rueful look. “I don’t think I can go anywhere. I can barely move my leg, and...”
Katya held up her left arm, which terminated at the wrist.
Alex found it difficult to meet her gaze.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Katya said. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I need you to live through this.”
“I’m sorry for all of it, you know?” Alex gave her a woozy look. “For dragging you into…whatever. For your hand, and your leg. This is all on me, isn’t it? I did this.”
“I was starting to develop an improved opinion of you,” Katya snapped. “Don’t ruin it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Katya said. “Just do better, okay? You need to get moving. Save Eerie. Make me proud.”
Alex stood slowly, feeling as if his head might just continue up into the clouds. His hands felt swollen and numb, and his ears rang and throbbed. Worse than the pain of his wounds was the feeling of separation, the awareness of severed tissue and muscle that plagued even his slightest movement.
“I think it’s getting worse,” Katya said. “You need to hurry.”
“How do you know?”
“The weird pink and green glow in the windows,” Katya said, pointing at the building. “Also, the building is on fire, with a big white tower coming out of the middle, and I’m pretty sure that the stone is singing, or something. It’s melodic, whatever it is, don’t you think?”
“Oh. Yeah,” Alex said. “That’s probably it, then. Will you be okay?”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Katya said, waving him off. “Get going already!”
He started in the direction of the Main Library, moving as fast as Alex could limp.
Katya watched him go without comment.
She started searching bodies once he was out of sight, crawling from one to other and ignoring the persistent ache of her missing leg and the blood pooling in her bandages.
She rummaged through backpacks and searched pockets, doing her best to avoid the sticky pools of mostly dry blood.
It took four tries before she found what she was looking for.
A dead woman wearing a bindi and a colorful headscarf pulled tight across her wrinkled forehead had four shaped charges in her rucksack, along with a bag full of detonators and wiring. Katya emptied the bag of everything but the plastique and the detonators, and then slung it over her shoulder.
She grabbed the planter with her good hand and started to pull herself up.
Marcus appeared beside her and helped her stand, offering her a crutch with an apologetic look.
“I stopped by a hospital and grabbed this for you,” he said. “If you want it.”
“I don’t want it at all, but I think I need it,” Katya said, putting it beneath her arm. “Thanks.”
“Think nothing of it,” Marcus said. “Are we done, now that young Alex is safe?”
“He isn’t safe at all, but I’ve done what I could. The rest is up to him, and to Eerie,” Katya said, shaking her head. “I’m not done, either. Would you be willing to take me on one more trip?”
“I’d be happy to,” Marcus said. “Where do you have in mind?”
“Where I’d go if I were a Thule,” Katya said. “Take me back to the Far Shores, please.”
***
“That monster’s just standing there,” Rebecca said, watching from behind the tree line. “It hasn’t moved since Alex left.”
“So?” Alice finished loading her revolver with hollow points and then returned it to its holster. “What does that mean?”
“That thing is after Eerie, and maybe Alex, too,” Rebecca said. “Without either of them local, it’s either dormant, or…”
Rebecca closed her eyes, her face scrunching up as she concentrated.
“No such luck,” Rebecca said, a little rivulet of blood trickling from her nose. “It’s searching. A massive telepathic emanation. God, what power…”
“So it’s looking for something.”
“Alex isn’t far, and I think Eerie is inside of that…thing,” Rebecca said, pointing in the general direction of the Church, which was located in a direction that could not be pointed toward. “Trying to go unnoticed. If the Ether wasn’t all fucked up from the World Tree…oh, shit. Do you think Emily did this?”
“Do I think who did what?” Alice blinked uncertainly. “I’m not really coming up with much on some of these names.”
“Never mind. It’s really simple. That thing is looking for something,” Rebecca said, nodding at the Representative. “We ca
n’t let it find whatever it’s looking for.”
“We got a million problems, Becca,” Alice said, peering over her shoulder at the ruined library, a strange glow emanating from the remaining windows of the structure, a colorful reflection of light that was otherwise invisible. “Is this our problem?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this our biggest problem right now?”
“I think so,” Rebecca said, biting her lip. “I really think this might be it.”
“Okay, then,” Alice said. “How do you want it handled?”
“Bring me my Auditors,” Rebecca said. “Mikey and Windsor, too. North, if you can find him. Get Chike to help. We’re gonna hit this thing with everything we’ve got.”
“Sure, I got it,” Alice said. “One question?”
“What is it?”
“Who the fuck are all those people you just mentioned?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rebecca said, accessing the Network. “We’ll go together, okay?”
***
Mr. Crane was left without a body after the trick John Parson had pulled, displacing his Etheric form to a specific location, while casting his physical body into the Ether, but that was only a hindrance. The immediate area was full of raw material, and even if he preferred not to have to work with necrotic tissue, there was plenty of the active stuff about.
It was a miscalculation on John Parson’s part to have sent him here, Mr. Crane reflected, but that was not surprising. John Parson was broken. Poor reasoning was to be expected. John Parson had little time to react to the Representatives and had likely chosen a destination at random.
The Representative whispered incorporeally through the battlefield, indifferent to the carnage.
Soldiers walked among the bodies, offering medical aid to some and collecting the remains of others, but nearby, two young men were occupied severing the heads from another pile of the dead.
Wondering at and despising the strangeness of the world, Mr. Crane reviewed its options.
The obvious answer was right at hand.
He made directly for the most powerful potential host in the area, an exhausted young woman who was asleep on a couch in a ruined manor, conveniently located near where John Parson had sent him.
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 80
