“Why fight? I cannot hope to win,” Mateo said, shrugging. “I can only surrender and throw myself upon your mercy.”
“If you say so, Mr. Navarre. For my part, I cannot forgive you. I have taken a vow, where my father’s murder is concerned.”
“I see,” Mateo said, his voice trembling as he fought tears. “Will you at least promise me a quick end?”
“How many members of the Thule Family remain alive, Mr. Navarre? If you survived, then it stands to reason that some of them did as well.”
“They left me behind at the manor in Iceland, to keep up the illusion,” Mateo said hurriedly, wiping tears and dirt from his face. “We always planned to evacuate the youngest members of the cartel, whatever the cost.”
“It almost worked,” Anastasia said approvingly. “If not for the inherent difficulties of mass decapitation, we might never have noticed the substitutions.”
“You said the children,” Renton said. “Who is still alive?’
“Our priorities were Egill, Lóa, and Benjamin Thule, along with assorted cousins. Lóa changed her mind, when she saw you…when she saw you in combat with Lord Thule, Lady Martynova.”
“It is a relief to hear that her death, at least, was genuine.”
“Egill evacuated Benjamin and a few others, all civilians.” Mateo glanced at the face of the Mistress of the Black Sun, hoping to see a bit of mercy there, but was immediately disappointed. “He went after Chandi Tuesday…”
“Miss Tuesday has informed me that my servant, Katya Zharova, ambushed him.”
“According to the reports I received, the ambush was a success. She killed Egill, to the best of my knowledge,” Mateo said. “I ran until I was certain I was no longer pursued, and then I settled down here. I haven’t heard a word from any of them since.”
“Do you have any idea where I might find Benjamin Thule and the other survivors?”
“I swear to you that I don’t know,” Mateo said, trembling uncontrollably. “I don’t even know how to get into contact with them. I promise you, that’s the truth. You have a telepath with you, Lady Martynova. I’ve dropped my shields. Go ahead and do what you must. I’m not so stupid as to hide anything from you.”
Renton looked at Anastasia for permission.
She stared at Mateo for a long time before nodding absently, like she had almost forgotten what they were talking about.
Renton was savage by choice. He took his time breaking apart Mateo’s dormant psychic defenses, disassembling the shields he had been carefully maintaining for years. The probe was conducted with blatant disregard for Mateo’s memory or comfort, as Renton ransacked his mind for anything of use, and cast aside anything that he judged superfluous.
Mateo endured as best he could, biting his lip until it split.
“He’s telling the truth,” Renton said, continuing to rampage through Mateo’s vulnerable brain. “He doesn’t know anything, except what we already guessed.”
“What about Gabriela Thule?” Anastasia studied him. “We never found her body.”
“I don’t know,” Mateo whimpered. “She made a nuisance of herself until Lord Thule agreed to send her out with a patrol, when we first took Central, and then her unit got jumped by one of your people.”
“I am aware of that. My people in turn lost her to Alistair.”
“Alistair brought her back to Lord Thule, not long before you attacked the manor. I saw her in a hallway once, but I don’t think I saw her the day of the fight. Gabriela probably ran off on her own. She was always doing that.”
“Interesting. Confirm it, would you, Renton?”
Mateo Navarre’s brain was strip-mined, layers of memory torn back and ripped apart. He curled into a ball and endured it, blood leaking from his nose and his bitten lip.
“Yeah. It’s true.”
“Very well. I appreciate your forthrightness, Mr. Navarre.”
Mateo remained as he was, in a ball on the street, holding his breath.
“You may consider it fortunate that I have no further need of heads for my father’s grave, Mr. Navarre, since he is already interred. I cannot promise you any further kindness, however, nor will I offer you a quick death.”
Mateo failed to choke back his sob.
“I shall be rather cross with my people if you are to die at all,” Anastasia said, adjusting her shawl. “Prepare him for transport to Hong Kong, won’t you, Renton? I’ll want Lady Gao to see to him personally.”
“Right away,” Renton said, grinning as he grabbed Mateo by the collar.
Mateo wanted to fight, but Renton was already too much in control, and his body simply refused his commands.
He felt Renton in his head like there was a beetle boring through the tissue.
When Mateo realized what Renton was trying to do, he cried out and tried to fight him, but it was altogether too late, and Renton was too skilled a telepath.
Mateo Navarre seized on the street, his teeth chattering and gnashing as Renton destroyed the portion of his mind that housed the routine that activated his protocol, denying Mateo the possibility of future use.
Losing his telepathy was like being blinded.
Mateo wanted to scream, but he was allowed only a whimper.
“Are you finished? Is his transportation arranged?” Lady Martynova frowned impatiently. “Let’s be off to the apport station, then. We are meant to be back in Central in time for the party.”
“You go ahead, Ana,” Renton said, patting her on the head, and offering a grin when she slapped his hand away. “There’s one thing I need to check on.”
She disappeared the same way she had arrived.
Renton put his hands in his pockets and walked to the end of the block.
“You can come out now.”
“I could have come out anytime,” Leigh said, emerging from the nearby alley. “That’s not what I was told to do. That’s all.”
The vampire wore running shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with a beer logo, looking every bit the college student on break, down to her white plastic-rimmed sunglasses.
“Yeah?” Renton leered at her with practiced eyes. “What were you told to do, then?”
“I’m just here to watch,” Leigh said. “To make sure that the big Operation you were planning was nothing to do with us. Just in case you needed a reminder that the Far Shores is off limits.”
“You can tell Emily this has nothing to do with you people,” Renton said. “I suggest you leave, and never come anywhere near Ana again.”
“I’ll do what I’m told,” Leigh said. “Just like you.”
“Call me if you ever wanna fuck,” Renton said, turning back to manage Mateo’s apport. “Otherwise, don’t let me see you again.”
The vampire flipped him off as she retreated into the alley.
When he glanced that way a minute later, as the technicians were getting Mateo trussed up for the trip, the alley was empty, save for a couple trashcans and a rusting bike frame.
“Emily Muir. That’s a problem I’m going to enjoy solving,” Renton said, rubbing his chin as he stared at the empty alley. “Sooner rather than later, I think. Yeah. Real soon.”
***
Henry North kept the shock from his face, thanks to a vague warning from his wife about unexpected guests that afternoon, but he was stunned regardless. He unclipped the metal rod from his belt and placed it on the desk, giving his visitors a meaningful look as he did so.
Alistair crossed his legs, smug and untroubled. Gabriela Thule sat in the chair beside him, looking no less pleased with herself. They were dressed casually, almost like they were on vacation, and they looked tanned and healthy.
“I sincerely hoped that both of you were dead,” Henry admitted. “How in the world did you survive the massacre in Iceland?”
“It’s a family thing,” Gabriela said. “We have a talent for it. You know, Uncle Gaul always told me to come to you if anything happened to him.”
Henry could only nod.
&n
bsp; He had told his children the same thing regarding Gaul, after all.
“Lady Martynova is convinced that the Thule Cartel persists. I am not thrilled to learn that she is correct. If she should make the same discovery, who knows what might happen. I can perhaps do something for you, Gabriela,” Henry said, considering it. “Your choice in company leaves much to be desired, however, and Alistair’s presence gives me pause.”
“I know why you feel that way, and I don’t blame you,” Gabriela said, with an ingratiating smile. “Alistair is an awful man.”
“I was, anyway,” Alistair said. “I’ve changed my ways. Nothing to worry about with me these days.”
“We aren’t here to ask for favors,” Gabriela said, silencing Alistair with a glare. “We want to help you, Mr. North.”
“Help? What do you mean?”
“You’re short on allies and long on enemies,” Alistair said. “You know that the Black Sun is assembling an invasion force in China, don’t you? It won’t be long before you have open war in Central again.”
“I am aware,” Henry said. “Diplomacy, however, has not yet failed.”
“Sure, but when it does, we can help,” Alistair. “And you can trust us, because we also need your help.”
“I see,” Henry said coldly. “Then you do want something from me.”
“We want to make a deal, Mr. North,” Gabriela corrected. “We want to earn our keep.”
“I fail to see what the two of you can do for me.”
“You won’t have much luck against the Black Sun if you can’t get the Hegemony to line up behind you,” Alistair said. “Serafina Ricci is standing in the way of that unity, isn’t she? That’s a problem I could resolve for you.”
“I see,” Henry said. “It’s just the two of you, then?”
“That’s a glass-half-empty perspective,” Alistair said. “Let’s think of it this way – we are volunteering the entire Thule Cartel.”
“The Thule Cartel is no more, I’m afraid.”
“Not necessarily,” Gabriela said. “You’re in charge, aren’t you? Chief Administrator of Central? Then the Thule Cartel is only gone if you say that it is.”
Henry considered it.
He had to, given who was making the offer.
“What would you want in return, should I be interested in accepting your offer?”
“Nothing too onerous, Mr. North,” Gabriela said. “All I want is my family name back, and all of our things.”
“That is a problematic request,” Henry said, sighing. “Aside from the difficulty inherent in resurrecting the Thule Cartel, your family estates were claimed by Anastasia Martynova as compensation…”
“I heard she rejected that deal,” Alistair said. “No peace, no compensation. Right?”
“…or given as marriage gifts.”
“For your son and your daughter,” Gabriela said. “They aren’t married yet, are they? Either of them?”
Henry shook his head.
“Then you can just give them something else. How about the Ricci estate?” Gabriela suggested. “I’ve seen pictures. It’s very nice.”
“Despite your claims, you actually want a great deal,” Henry said. “This would be a costly arrangement for me, without much in the way of benefits.”
“We aren’t just offering to handle Serafina,” Alistair said. “You have a lot of enemies lately, don’t you? I heard something about an Inquiry, which could easily become an Audit, for example. Not to mention the Black Sun. Do you even know what Emily Muir is up to, in the Far Shores? I bet you don’t, but do you really want her to hold a big chunk of Central, independent and all? I don’t think so.”
Alistair smirked, and Gabriela quickly punched him in the arm. He grimaced and straightened up, assuming a marginally more polite disposition.
“I’m just saying, Henry. Wouldn’t it be nice to have an asset in your favor? Something that nobody knows you have, because no one knows that we even exist?”
Henry gave it further consideration.
“It is an intriguing offer,” he said finally, glancing at the clock. “I will consider your terms.”
“Those aren’t exactly all of our terms,” Gabriela said. “I also want the Weathers estate, and the deed to the Loring manor in Central. Pretty please, Mr. North. I promise we are worth it.”
“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”
“We’ll take the whole Loring estate, actually,” Alistair said, putting his arm around Gabriela. “Consider it a wedding present, okay?”
Henry stared in mute shock as Gabriela wriggled from Alistair’s embrace, punching him a second time. Gabriela smiled apologetically as she straightened her dress.
“What can I say?” Gabriela shrugged. “Alistair is terrible, but never to me. It’s endearing.”
“I promised her a big wedding,” Alistair said. “What do you say, Henry? We’ll help you take care of all your problems. We make that Inquiry go away, take care of little Miss Ricci, and smooth the way for your kids. All you need to do is transfer a couple of properties that aren’t even yours, so no big loss there, and recognize Gabby as the heir to the Thule Cartel. Throw in a small loan…”
“A loan?” Henry felt himself to be beyond astonishment. “What for?”
“It won’t actually be that small. I told you that I promised Gabby a big wedding,” Alistair said. “Do you have any idea how expensive a competent florist is?”
***
The feeling of weightlessness was the beginning of her returning awareness. The wetness of her skin followed shortly after, then the sensation of warmth.
Enjoying the buoyancy, she felt no desire to open her eyes, or to contemplate anything.
Her memory did not return to her. There was no sudden recollection, no protracted remembering. Her restoration was almost an afterthought.
She was so accustomed to the blank spaces, the abscesses in her cognition, that it did not feel like a recovery.
It was a quiet rebirth.
The days stretched out behind her in a continuous tapestry, spooling to such a distant past that years were a pitiful measure, whether taken in decades or centuries. Before her…
She did not worry about what was before her.
She anticipated it.
Floating on her back in the blood-warm water, she luxuriated in the vast potential of the future, her toes curling with eagerness. She could feel every cell of her body singing in unison, and she could pick out each individual cellular voice in the chorus, her nervous system resonating with the bliss of simply being herself. Her scalp tingled and her fingers trembled, and she could trace each line of the Tree of Life etched into her back, her mouth silently shaping the Hebrew characters inscribed across her shoulders.
Alice Gallow opened her eyes and took in the barren sky of the Outer Dark.
“Welcome back.”
The man was sitting on a low stone dam not far from where she floated, tossing pebbles into the opposite side of the round pool, where geothermally heated water boiled out from a crack in the volcanic rock.
“It’s been a long time, Marcus.”
“Has it really?” Marcus smiled and tossed another pebble, the ripples in the water dying off before they could meet her skin. “I’m not sure anymore. What’s a little time apart between you and I?”
“Yes,” Alice said. “I remember.”
He did not look away as she stood, her skin flushed and wrinkled from long immersion.
She was not bothered.
“You are a marvel,” Marcus said admiringly. “A true wonder.”
“Flattery will not save you,” Alice said, smiling her Cheshire Cat smile. “Clothes, on the other hand, might do something.”
Marcus gestured toward the side of the pool, at a thin stack of folded clothing, a towel draped across a nearby rock.
She dried herself and then started to dress.
“What a pity,” Marcus commented, watching her step into a new pair of black jeans, the
fresh denim rough against her skin. “I remember when you didn’t bother with such trivial concerns.”
“So do I,” Alice said, pulling a tank-top over her head, the front of the shirt covered in elaborate black metal scrawl.
“Glad to hear it,” Marcus said, returning to his pebble tossing. “John would be pleased. He always liked you better as yourself.”
Alice paused, one foot shoved in the waiting black boots, the other in the air.
“Don’t tell me they actually managed to kill him.”
Marcus nodded without looking at her.
“I wasn’t sure that it was even possible, but they did it.”
“I see.” She slipped on the other boot. “What about the Church?”
“I thought it might be possible to delay it, but they did more than that. The Church has retreated. It was perhaps even damaged. I thought we could buy a few years, but it might be centuries before another manifestation. Apparently, I underestimated both Alexander Warner and Mitsuru Aoki.”
Alice patted him on the back.
“I don’t think you did,” Alice said. “I think we both overlooked the passion of a young woman caught up in her first love.”
“You mean Ériu. The Changeling.”
“It’s always the Changelings, isn’t it? They are the living antithesis of destiny.”
“We dealt with them in the past…”
“Eerie was different. The others were defined by their Fey halves. Eerie was practically human, with all the emotion and unpredictability that entails. That was probably Becca’s fault. She spoiled Eerie.” Alice smiled fondly. “Let’s take a walk.”
Marcus dumped his last few pebbles in the water, dusted his hands off on his garden-stained pants, and then stood.
Alice glanced again at the desolate sky, and then chose a direction at random, walking away from the hot spring and into the ruined country below it.
There was little for them to look at on their long walk through the Outer Dark, since there was nothing to see. The Horrors were dead or had migrated elsewhere, and the fire in the mountains that existed only as an unreachable horizon had been extinguished.
They started at the hot spring, but soon were deep in the wasteland, without goal or destination. They were not lost, because location is not a useful concept when navigating the Outer Dark.
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 93
