by A. R. Knight
Selena stood up from the table, took my hand, and we left the half finished drawing of the smokestack and all thoughts of Graham behind.
Chapter 21
The pounding on the apartment door ruined the moment. I rolled off the bed, the hard palate barely a foot off the floor, and shrugged my way back into my clothes. Selena was faster, throwing a dress over her head and going to answer the knock.
“Is he here?” I heard Nicholas’s voice around the corner.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said. Getting the belt back on and situated took a second. Then slinging the crossbow over my back took another. Finally, after slipping on the gloves that kept my hands from getting bit off by angry spirits and I was ready to go.
Nicholas, however, clearly wasn’t. The man’s lab coat was torn. Spirits didn’t bleed much, but they could get roughed up plenty and Nicholas had scratches all over his face. His goggles hung askew, one of the lenses missing.
“They told me to find you,” Nicholas started as soon as I came into sight. “Told me that you would be here, that they would stop if you came.”
“Stop doing what?” I asked.
“They’re tearing apart the lab! They’re ruining my experiments.”
“Who is ‘they’?” I said as Selena bounced her eyes between the two of us.
“ Graham. Or at least that’s who they say they’re working for. Spirits. Not like ones I’ve ever seen,” Nicholas said. “They talk but they’re not angry. There’s no fire in their eyes. But they’re destructive, determined. Actually, they’d be a rather intriguing study if they weren’t wrecking everything.”
“Well, I can fill tomorrow’s quota today,” I said. “You two stay here.”
“I don’t think so,” Selena said. “You said that Graham nearly killed you earlier. I can’t sit by and just let that happen. If you go, we go too.”
I didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong. The three of us left Selena’s apartment and went down the street, over the hill, to Nicholas’s lab. Standing in front of it were a pair of spirits. They didn’t look like soldiers, and they were dressed in the same sort of formal wear that Graham sported. Dirty suits and tall hats. Nicholas was right, no fire in their eyes.
The one on the left held a large cane and rested on it. The one the right had grabbed hold of something from Nicholas’s experiments. A spiked bar that had blue fire channeling between the needles.
“Heard you were looking for me?” I called as we came closer.
“Got a message for you. From Graham,” the one with the cane said.
“I’m all ears.”
“He says it’s time to come home,” Cane said. I expected a laugh, maybe some sort of manic grin, but the spirit’s face stayed serious.
“What, that’s it?” I said. “No explanation?”
Now Cane got all squinty-eyed. Clenched those knuckles around his fancy stick. I gave the lash a twitch, made sure they saw it hanging ready.
“Are you sure you can handle both of them?” Nicholas whispered behind me. “They look rather intimidating.”
“Selena, keep him out of it,” I said, then put some distance between us by launching myself at the Graham’s two spirits.
To their credit, the spirits weren’t surprised. Cane went forward at my move, trying to close the distance so the lash wouldn’t be so effective. Spike, as I nicknamed the other one, hung back, waiting for an opening. Which was fine with me.
I swept the lash low, banking on Cane getting inside the pointed tip. He did, but the rest of the lash hooked and wrapped around Cane’s ankle. I pulled the lash tight and Cane crashed to the ground in front of me. My left hand went for the knife. Easy pickings.
“Watch out!” Selena’s yell jerked my head up in time to see Spike copying his friend’s assault.
My lash was still tight around Cane’s ankle, and Spike’s club was coming in fast, so I dropped the lash and rolled left. Coming out of the move, I reached behind my head and pulled out the crossbow. Held it up as Spike adjusted his advance.
“Careful,” I said. “This thing hurts.”
“I’m already dead,” Spike replied. The spirit had a point.
I turned the crank anyway, slotting a normal bolt and, as Spike went for a swing, I fired the crossbow in his face. The bolt struck Spike in the nose, the shock of the hit robbing Spike’s swing of its momentum, but not all of it. The club hit my left arm and I felt piercing pain as one of the spikes drove in.
A spirit in Riven doesn’t have real blood. Doesn’t feel or operate the way a body does. A guide, or a sneak, or anyone crossing over, though, they bring part of their physical selves along for the ride. Get your knee shattered here, it would be broken back home. Get your ear chewed off, good luck hearing anything after you crossed back. So when my arm went hot with my own blood, I screamed.
Then I hit back. Literally struck Spike with the crossbow and pushed him to the ground. Dropped the weapon and reached across my waist with my right hand and pulled the knife free. Spike’s broken face, split by the bolt, stared up at me in mangled rage, but I hesitated. No pale fire. None. Even in a situation when the spirit should be losing control, Spike didn’t look lost.
Cane tackled me. Rammed me off of his partner and threw me onto the hard stone of the street. The knife bounced from my hand along the ground. The pain would have been excruciating. Would have thrown me into shock. Should have.
“There will be moments,” Bryce’s voice flew through my panicking head. “Where you will be at the very edge. Where you will be one breath away from the end. But you will still have that one breath. Use it.”
Cane moved over Spike, barreling down toward me like a nightmare version of a carnival barker, cane and suit blowing wide, top hat long gone and revealing a head of wispy hair.
On my belt, my hand found the spark tube. I pulled it out and pressed the button as Cane raised his namesake weapon to bash in my skull. I filled his eyes with burning blue fire.
Spirits might not bleed, but damn do they still hurt. Cane reeled back, roaring out something I couldn’t understand, and I pushed myself back to my feet. Kept after Cane, kicking him in the stomach and pushing him back into Spike. Cane fell over his friend, landing on the ground hard.
I went over and picked up the knife. Tried to flex my left arm and couldn’t. Not good.
“Ready to give up?” I said, my voice pained. Weak.
Spike, he of the split face, didn’t reply. Not sure he was capable of it. Cane just growled and scooted himself back off his partner, who tried to get up as I stabbed him. The knife’s blue fire ran down the hilt and over Spike. As the spirit’s eyes went blank, I felt a surge of relief. One down.
Then Cane was on me again. I swept up the knife to block his swing, but Cane’s strength was incredible, his namesake bashing away my hand. The knife flew to the other side of the street, bouncing away. I backpedaled and Cane followed.
“You could have come with us,” Cane said. “Could have made this easy.”
“That’s not really my style,” I replied.
Cane responded with a bigger swing, going for a two-handed head-knocker. I ducked forward, getting inside the attack and leading a right shoulder charge into Cane’s midsection. His elbow connected with my temple, sending the world spinning as we fell over.
My eyes blurred in and out of focus as I rolled off of Cane onto my back. It was like my nerves were scrambled. Directions were getting lost en route to the muscles they were for. I closed my eyes for a second to try and correct myself, and when I opened them, Cane stood over me.
One, two, three quick strikes with the cane to my chest. Jabbing straight down. Not going for the kill, not yet.
“There’s a price to be paid,” Cane said. “Always a price, where I came from. When I paid it, I wound up here. Now, it’s your turn.”
I tried to come up with a retort. Tried, and wound up coughing blood as Cane delivered another shot to my gut. Then he stopped, scowled at me.
“
Except he doesn’t want you dead,” Cane muttered, his eyes twisting up and looking above. Like the man was getting a communication from the beyond. Or having a stroke, if spirits could have such things.
Selena smashed Cane from behind. I didn’t even see her, just the end of Spike’s club driving into Cane’s back. The blue fire wrapping the spikes, the fire that had done nothing to me, burned its way through Cane. He dropped his weapon and collapsed.
“Next time,” I coughed. “A little sooner?”
Chapter 22
As a guide, there was a certain indignity about being carried by a pair of spirits. However, given that I was a messed up hunk of battered flesh at the moment, I shelved my pride and let Selena and Nicholas drag me along the streets back to her apartment.
In between the spasms of pain from, well, from everywhere, I tried to figure out why Cane hadn’t bashed my head in. He’d had the chance. Could’ve turned me to pulp right there on the street. Something, no, someone said no.
There weren’t many ways to control spirits. If you were a guide, you could bind one or two, like I’d done with Nicholas and Selena. I couldn’t make decisions for them, but they knew that if I let them go, the Cycle would compel them quick. Or they’d lose their minds and become a target for my lash.
Bryce had spoken a few times about Ghouls being able to control spirits in their vicinity. Their sheer menace collected spirits and warped them in the same way a cloud of perfume twisted the minds of men late at night.
These two were following Graham’s orders. Another spirit’s orders. I’d heard Graham call off the horde outside the factory near the breach. There must be something he was doing that could tie these spirits to him. One more reason I wanted to find Graham and get some questions answered.
“Are you still with us?” Selena asked as we neared the clock tower. “I’m worried if they find us with him...”
“He is still breathing,” Nicholas said. “Which, despite being unnecessary here, shows evidence—”
“I’m alive,” I said. “Bryce and Alec just went back. They shouldn’t be here.”
“You can talk!” Nicholas announced. “Excellent! I’d feared the blow to your head had scrambled your mind.”
“Oh, it did,” I replied. I managed to get my legs under me long enough for Selena to open the clock tower’s door. Then it was a short series of steps to the main chamber. I counted each one of those steps in searing stabs from my abdomen.
“Straight to the bed, please,” I said when we made it into the main hall. “I need to cross back.”
Not that my real body would feel all that much better, but the thing about Riven is that there wasn’t any alcohol. Or doctors and hospitals. But mostly alcohol.
“Carver, a question before you go,” Nicholas said as Selena laid me on the mattress.
“Go for it,” I replied.
“About my lab? I took the liberty of checking inside while you and Selena were dealing with those goons and it seems they were thorough. My work has been set back considerably.”
“Can you rebuild it?”
“I would question the effort,” Nicholas said, looking at the floor and wringing his hands. “If this Graham knows where it is, then I should think he might attack again.”
“Then move it to the apartment,” I said.
“What?” Selena and Nicholas said together.
“It’s got room. Selena, you said you were lonely. Why not?”
“The steps would make moving equipment difficult,” Nicholas said, but his wandering eyes gave away his thoughts. “But it would be more secure. Having Selena nearby would make it easier to experiment...”
“I’m not your plaything,” Selena said. Nicholas bowed his head in an apology, then went to go check the door, make sure the courtyard was still clear.
“Talk it over,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll work something out.”
“So long as he remembers that it’s my place first,” Selena said, then she turned back to me. “I’m going to go look for Graham. Like we talked about.”
“Now? After seeing what he did?” I said the words, but didn’t put much punch into them. If Selena was able to find Graham, learn more about what he wanted, then it would be worth the risk.
“That’s why I have to try,” Selena said. “He’s just going to keep hurting us.”
I could feel the blurred edges of my vision closing in. Crossing back and forth from Riven was like falling asleep, only instead of sinking into any dream, I had to drift my mind towards where I wanted to go. In this case, back to my little apartment, to my bed tied to the clock tower. In a normal situation, without my blood dripping from the hole in my arm, it would be simple. A habit, like walking or blinking.
Now, with the constant ache, I couldn’t maintain the picture. I was falling unconscious, not shifting over. And if I collapsed here, I might not ever wake up.
“What’s wrong?” I heard Selena talk, her voice sounding far away.
C’mon, Carver. I forced my eyes back open, beat away the blurred edges.
“I need to be numbed,” I said. “I can’t concentrate.”
“Numbed?” Selena said.
“Get Nicholas here,” I said. “He’ll have an idea.”
Selena yelled for the scientist while I clung to consciousness. My stomach lurched. Something burned in my chest. Wouldn’t be surprised if Cane had done deadly damage, despite trying to keep me alive.
“You have any morphine?” I asked Nicholas as he came in the room.
“Have you forgotten where you are?” Nicholas replied. “Riven lacks the necessary ingredients for any chemical drugs.”
“The pain’s keeping me from crossing,” I said. “It’s getting worse.”
Nicholas glanced at Selena and shook his head slightly. Scientist out of ideas. That wasn’t good. Selena turned to me, and I must have looked terrible because her eyes quivered and her mouth fell slack.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “I don’t want to know.”
“Be quiet,” Selena said. “Focus. Cross over, Carver.”
I was about to slide into sarcasm and say that was the whole problem, when Selena leaned over and kissed my forehead. The slight pressure, the warmth from her lips blunted the pain. Not a lot. The stinging, raging ache from my stomach and arm were still there, but quieter. Countered by Selena’s affection.
Her lips moved, crossing my forehead and making their soft way down the side of my face. I closed my eyes. Sank into that sea of near unconscious, and, with Selena’s soft voice whispering in my ear, I latched onto my home and didn’t let go.
“Cross over, Carver.”
Chapter 23
It was not a good morning. I awoke from the crossing like I’d run a marathon while taking a gut punch every mile. At least, that’s what it felt like. My muscles, particularly in the left arm, were sore. My stomach was nauseous, and I stumbled out of bed to the bathroom upon waking up. Things weren’t pretty.
But I was alive.
After far too many minutes putting myself together, I fell out of my apartment to the train station and got on the next line downtown. My body wanted to lie there and suffer, but giving Graham time to plan another attack was what we in the guide business would call a bad plan.
Ezra’s was more crowded earlier in the morning, the clock barely pushing 7:30. Third-shifters saying goodbye to the night. Bryce would still be here, though. He’d told me before that his wife did some sort of government work downtown, had to be in the office early, and they regarded the morning train ride together as a sacrosanct ritual of their relationship. Bryce probably enjoyed the hours of coffee and reading in Ezra’s that followed just as much.
With my usual mask-and-coat getup, I approached the bar. The air was hazy, a build-up the papers attributed to the factories ramping up war production. Exactly what we needed. More pollution, more dead soldiers clogging Riven. Great times.
“Carver!” Speaking of great times, here came one. Opperman waved from near t
he door. “Haven’t seen ya, and guess what? There’s another quote needs giving!”
“Can’t you find another guide?” I replied, trying to walk past him, but Opperman shifted himself in front of me.
“Bryce doesn’t even look at me anymore,” Opperman pouted. “I don’t even know the name of your third guy.”
“Some journalist you are.”
“I focus my efforts on what matters to the people,” Opperman said. “And what matters right now are the rumors that guides are dying left and right!”
“They are?”
“Don’t you know?” Opperman gave me a quizzical look, his recording tablet punching holes. “Riven’s more dangerous than ever, or so they say. Catastrophe as more guides are mauled by angry spirits!”
“Who are your sources again?”
Opperman wagged his finger. “C’mon, Carver, give me a response. Tell me, what’re you going to do about it? How are you going to keep the people safe?”
I paused for a moment. Bryce would ream me out if I gave any sort of promise to Opperman. On the other hand, someone had to talk to the media. Keep the public informed and, hopefully, paying for us to keep Riven clear.
“Tell you what, Opperman,” I said. “How about we trade. I’ll give you an opinion, if you do a little digging for me?”
“Digging?”
“There’s a, um, nasty spirit I’m dealing with in Riven,” I said. “Need to find out more about her. Can you look and see if there are records of a woman named Selena? She was killed by her husband?”
“Here? Or anywhere? Because, you know, I can’t—”
Selena hadn’t ever told me where she died, but we’d talked about Chicago before. While spirits could pop up all over Riven, most of the time they were concentrated to certain areas. That’s what made wars so dangerous. Whole districts of Riven could get overwhelmed as so many people died in a single spot on Earth. It seemed like, with the current war ramping up, the Tar Pit was going to be a mess.
