by Kerr, Toni
"You did this?" Dorian reached into one of the cubicles, sympathizing with a seedling's despair. It didn't know whether to grow up or down. Rows of tables lined the entire greenhouse, plants in pots instead of community soil, segregated further by concrete dividers.
"I wouldn't touch anything without safety gear." Dr. Morley smiled proud. "Everything you see is specially bred. 'Engineered' you might say." He whipped out the tool he'd been patting, then shoved it back into his pocket before she could get a good glimpse. Maybe a marble poker, white with a wooden handle. Black tape seemed to hold the pieces together. "The most unlikeliest combinations you can think of."
He handed her a pair of gloves and goggles, then a stiff floor-length leather lab coat from a second cabinet. She accepted for the sake of politeness, but couldn't get herself to put any of it on. "Suit yourself," he said.
She waited while he put on the ridiculous amount of protective gear, leaving the goggles with a full-face mask strapped high on his forehead.
"What happened to the forest outside?"
"Ah, well...not quite as successful as what I'm doing now. You are astute, aren't you?"
Dorian glared, unwilling to drop the subject without a real answer.
"Yes. But, when have you last seen trees on the cliffs of I-" He stopped short. "Reforestation! There used to be trees…. I thought maybe—"
"You transplanted adult trees?"
"Native trees. But they…well." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You should have known they would never survive."
"Adult trees would've had a better chance at breaking ground, making way for new trees. Now, they make shade, block the sea spray, and take the brunt of the wind. In another fifty years, living trees will outnumber the transplants."
Dorian studied the dead forest through the glass and wondered if the trees knew what would happen, or if they died willingly in the cause. The view made her sick, like a collection of dead bodies made to look pretty. "Why are they still green?"
"The green is a permanent feature." Dr. Morley continued when she said nothing. "Well? How would you like staring at a dead forest all day? I haven't given up on reforestation and the seedlings still need protection from the elements."
"You think the seedlings can't tell the difference?" Dorian asked, her eyes welling up with tears.
"It's for the greater good."
The plants had been silent while Dr. Morley told his tale, or she'd tuned them out. Now, their miserable songs made her heart ache.
"As you've been told," said Dr. Morley, "the plants are not behaving like they should. Nevertheless, I think you'll be all right if you keep a good distance."
"Distance?" Dorian asked, doing her best to play along.
"It's rather simple in the end. What you see here has been crossed with all sorts of different species to create an entirely new list of very unique potion-making ingredients. Aren't you getting tired of working with the same ol' list?" Dr. Morley walked quickly to the end of the greenhouse. "Maybe not, you're still young."
Dorian could not find her voice. She walked along the line of cubicles, pausing at each one, recognizing some of the combinations while others remained a mystery. She knelt beside a small seedling, overcome by grief.
"This is my most spectacular pride and joy." Dr. Morley rushed back, coaxing her to hurry along. "Come and see!"
The corner of the greenhouse stood empty, but for a single plant about three feet tall. Roots lay limp on the ground, spilling over a clay pot. Its thick branches drooped, dangerously close to snapping. Dorian inhaled sharply as the plant swayed to face them.
"Isn't it wonderful?" Dr. Morley rocked on his heels like any proud parent.
Dorian gulped. The tips of remaining leaves had shriveled to brown crisps. Three decayed flower stocks looked like they might have been beautiful at some point in the past. Old blooms withered in forgotten shades of red, streaked with purple and green. She guessed he might have crossed in some snapdragon genes and took a step forward, intent on soothing the poor thing.
Dr. Morley's arm shot out to stop her.
"This is definitely one you shouldn't get close to. It's a combination of four carnivorous species, along with certain genetic codes of reptilian hunters. A vine-like tongue can strike with lightning speed, capturing its own food. You need to watch out for its feelers too. Let's see if it'll eat today."
Dorian put her hand to her thumping chest. Where was Tristan? Dr. Morley pulled a handful of pellets from his pocket and tossed them to the mulch in front of the plant. From a metal cage, half-hidden in the shadows, he lifted a white bunny by the tuft of fur at the back of its neck.
"They aren't just for fertilizer, you know." Completely jovial, he tossed the rabbit toward the pile of pellets. It hopped a few times, twitching its pink nose, then hobbled toward the food.
"See?" Dr. Morley sighed, crossing his arms. "Ordinarily, it would have taken two seconds to capture and gobble the rabbit whole. It hasn't eaten for months now."
"It's an animal?"
"Yes! I'm calling them planimals!" Dr. Morley beamed, apparently pleased she'd caught on so quickly. "Digestive juices have already been extracted and used for a great deal of things. Though, I'm still working on a reversal. I think there's wondrous benefits for the world." Dr. Morley tossed a few more pellets toward the plant to keep the rabbit in range. "It feeds not only on flesh and blood, but the bones too. The acid produced is completely organic. In a pure form, it dissolves clothing, plastics, and most metals. Our Earth's garbage and pollution problems could be solved immediately, leaving no trace of toxic waste in the air, water, or land."
Something spooked the rabbit and it scampered under the long table of cubicles. Dr. Morley allowed it to flee, continuing in his excitement. "The acid works for a solid twenty minutes before the active enzymes begin dying off. Containing the acid is difficult, but one tablespoon can obliterate an entire cubic yard of your average household trash. This discovery will save billions of dollars. If I can duplicate the process." He gazed at the withering specimen, losing his gusto. "I don't think this one will produce any offspring before it dies."
The plant shuddered, shedding a few leaves in the process.
"I'm not sure what's making it sick…." Dr. Morley took a step back from the plant as it continued quivering, pulling Dorian back with him. "I'd estimated a thirty-year life span, but right now, it's less than two. Maybe it's hungry after all?"
The cheerful hope in his voice made Dorian's stomach crawl. The plant was nowhere near hungry. Her eyes widened at the hint of warning. The plant leaned back, then catapulted forward, sending a thin stream of yellowish liquid from one of its wilted flowers. The substance landed on Dr. Morley's left shoulder and the protective leather sputtered with instant blisters.
They ran for the door with Dr. Morley flinging his gloves away, working at the zipper to get his coat off before the acid could eat through.
Tynan held the door open, then slammed it shut. A series of locks clicked into place.
"Hard to believe the thing's still evolving," Dr. Morley announced to Tynan's look of alarm. "No matter!" He tossed the facemask to the ground and watched the glass melt. "I think that's enough tour for one day." He wiped sweat from his brow. "It's been a pleasure to finally meet you, Dorian. Keep this door locked," he directed at Tynan. "And maybe post additional guards 'til the beast calms down, we can't have it escaping like the last time. I still think someone ought to try chaining the pot again."
38
- DEATH DEVOURS -
"I SHALL RETURN FOR YOU this evening," Tynan cooed, bowing his head slightly. Tristan snarled at the man, betting he could wrap one hand around his boney neck.
"I look forward to it," Dorian replied genuinely. At least it seemed that way.
The metal door shut gently, followed by the clicking lock.
"Well?" Tristan crawled out from under the bed, fighting the cumbersome cloak. "Sounds like you enjoyed yourself."
"You're going to dinner with him?" Why did she have to look so happy? "Have you forgotten what's going on here?"
"I wonder why Dr. Morley works with Sabbatini? He has a good side. Can you reach that for me?" She pointed to the top shelf in the armoire, where a clear container held an assortment of smaller boxes.
"Get it yourself! I can't believe you." Tristan went to the window in search of anyone he might recognize from the island.
"If you care, there's a robe in the bathroom."
"Now you tell me?"
"It's not like I knew. I asked for a robe and a towel if they expect me to dress up for the occasion, and they said both were available in the bathroom. Look through the drawers or something. And," she announced, dragging the red velvet chair to the armoire, "we're in Ireland."
"What makes you think that? Ireland is thousands of miles from Alaska. It would've taken days...." Gram's comment about distance being irrelevant came to mind.
"You can't possibly believe that matters?"
"No." Tristan kicked himself and searched the bathroom for the robe. The concept of instant traveling…halfway around the world…. Tristan shook his head, exchanging the cloak for the black silk robe. He straightened, then decided slouching would make the robe longer. Thank God he didn't have a mirror.
"At least it isn't pink and fluffy," he said, tossing the cloak to the floor beside the bed. "What makes you so sure we're in Ireland?"
"Dr. Morley let it slip when I asked about the forest."
"What about it?"
"I also identified plants he later said were native. Trust me, I know my plants. If they're native, it means we're in Ireland. Weren't you there?"
"Maybe we're just near Ireland?"
She rolled her eyes. "Plants aren't native when they leave their homeland. You'd argue with me no matter what I said." She hopped down from the chair with the clear container and spilled its contents onto the bed.
Tristan ignored her comment, but joined her to see if there was anything useful for escaping. "What's all this for?"
She lifted a colorful jeweled necklace from a small box and put it to her neck. "What do you think?"
"Gaudy." He returned to the window to see if the view looked anything like tour-guide pictures. "I guess it could be Ireland."
"It is. I also found out why the plants are protesting."
Tristan cringed at the thought. "Why?"
"They're being abused. Didn't you see the third greenhouse?"
"I figured it'd be the same as the first two."
"The first two were nothing alike!" She snatched the cloak from the floor and slapped it back on the hanger. "The first one contained all southern—oh, forget it." She exchanged the cloak for a dark red dress and vaulted onto the bed. "The plants seem leery of a tool he uses. Stir it one way, 'miraculous' they said. Stir it the other, things clash and disintegrate." Dorian chewed on her lip and thought for a moment to herself. "Dr Morley has a few good intentions, but I'd be curious about that tool." She shrugged. "It's just strange that he doesn't understand the consequences of what he's doing. Now, if you don't mind, I want to try some of these dresses on. I'd change in the other room, but it's not big enough. So, can you give me some privacy by staying under the bed, or in the bathroom? Please. Go exploring, or whatever you do for entertainment."
Tristan debated arguing the definition of entertainment and crawled under the bed.
The concentration to be free of himself seemed to come easier. He headed to the meeting room to take another look. White sheets covered each of the statues, making them look like people pretending to be ghosts.
Sabbatini entered the room without warning and Tristan froze, afraid he'd be noticed. The man cradled a large, leather-bound book in his arms and walked to the head of the table, where he sat the book down slowly. Tristan eased against the wall, right beside the last covered statue.
Sabbatini eyed the room with his wand drawn like a weapon, then lowered himself to peek under the table. And then he studied each statue. Tristan exhaled as Sabbatini slipped the wand to an inside pocket and sat before the book.
Tristan approached the table, daring to get a closer look. Sabbatini traced the engraved design with a fingertip and lifted the cover. Inside, translucent pages were cracked along the edges. The text appeared to be a collection of random scribbles and scratch marks. He thumbed through more pages, pausing only when abstract drawings came along. Tristan stared over Sabbatini's shoulder, overcome by the complexity. The style though…it felt familiar.
"I need a translator," Sabbatini hissed, slamming the ancient book shut.
Tristan leapt out of the way as a faint cloud of dust billowed over the table. The man used the blade of his hand to sweep bits of pages, like flakes of skin, to the floor.
"Who would know?" Sabbatini asked, approaching the pedestal in the shadowed corner. "Tell me how to conquer you." He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, addressing whatever lay beneath the black cloth. "What is your secret?" Desperation rang through his demands. "What keeps you in power as well as imprisoned…?"
Turning from the pedestal, Sabbatini uncovered one of the statues and placed a hand on its shoulder. "Is this the immortality they speak of—forever in stone? Surely not."
It was the one statue that did not have fear in its stone eyes.
"When Dorian completes the potion, my dear brother, we will fix this mess and proceed more cautiously. I promise you, you will not be locked in this stone forever."
Tristan watched, horrified, realizing all the stone statues were actual people.
"I can sense you here with me," Sabbatini continued. "I know you are trying to communicate."
Tristan retreated, half-submerging himself into the density of the wall behind him.
"Our plans will not be hindered much longer. The world is all but in our hands and we will annihilate the Makai and anyone else who interferes. But first, tell me how to undo this! One clue. Is it the emerald itself, or the life within that has brought this fate? Send me a message I can understand."
Sabbatini turned from the statue and very gently carried the covered box from the pedestal to the table, placing it next to the book. He tossed the black cloth aside.
Tristan recognized the box immediately—Gwenna had showed it to him. It was the same box she'd meant him to have. The box containing an emerald. A Valkyrie. Sabbatini compared the engravings from its metal braces to the drawings on and in the book. None of the artistic styles matched.
"How does one acquire…?" Sabbatini pounded his fist on the table. "There must be a way." He re-covered the box and placed it on the pedestal before returning to the book. A quick tap on the door had him slamming it shut again. The book would be in crumbs if he kept it up.
"What now?" he shouted, brushing more flakes to the floor.
Tynan entered, bowing his head. "Master. Lady Dorian is very pleased with the surroundings and appears to be quite willing to join us this evening."
"Finally. I want this done by tomorrow. Time is precious." He glanced over all the statues, then to Tynan. "Tell the cook to prepare his finest, he's to spare no expense."
Tynan bowed again, shutting the door behind him.
Sabbatini spun on his heels and ripped off the cover of another statue. He stared into its ash-gray, stone eyes and gripped its arm at the wrist. In one motion, the stone arm snapped above the elbow. Inside, the granulated texture was dark red, but solid and dry throughout. The color lightened where bones would be.
Tristan shrank back farther, covering his mouth to keep quiet.
Sabbatini swung the stone arm like a baseball bat through the statue's head. It broke at the neck, shattering to pieces when it hit the floor. He lifted the headless body and heaved it against the rock wall, smashing it into a thousand blood-red fragments, no larger than a few inches each.
A bewildered apparition of the man stretched above the pile,
his expression altering to a cold hatred when he noticed Sabbatini.
Sabbatini had no reaction for it; he re-covered the statue of his brother with the sheet, then casually retrieved the book and left the room.
The ghost locked eyes with Tristan. Before either could speak, a black shadow seeped up from the floor between them. It crept through the pile of fragments and onto the ankles of the man, continuing upward.
Tristan gasped, uncomfortably aware that he himself lacked any physical substance. The ghost let out a scream of terror, cut off when the shadow swallowed his head.
The darkness maintained the shape of the man for a few seconds before melting into the pile of debris. It didn't disappear, but started undulating toward Tristan. A hot sting radiated at his chest. He glanced down to where the Cyanea coral would hang if it was physically with him, and watched a misty haze swirl with blue and pale-green vapors, as if the essence of the coral was its own expanding universe.
"Dorian!" Back in his body, clutching the coral pouch, Tristan clawed frantically to get out from under the bed. He imagined the shadow snatching at his ankles, threatening to seize his soul if he didn't get away.
"What are you doing?" Dorian asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
Tristan hurried to the window, gasping for fresh air. "What happens when…you know?" He had to get the window open fast.
"No, I don't. I guess you'll have to fill me in."
He pried at the wooden trim with his fingertips, trying to break through, trying to conceal his trembling limbs.
"What happened?"
Tristan faced the bed and expected something to show itself. "What happens to your body when your mind isn't with it? I mean, when I'm out wandering around, what goes on here?"
"Nothing's going on. You're just losing it. Big time."
Tristan shook his head, daring himself to search for monsters or the Grim Reaper. "Sabbatini just killed someone. I felt like death itself knew I was watching. And then it followed me."
"There's nothing under the bed." Dorian dropped to her knees and lifted the bed covering. "See? Nothing." She got back to her feet and gathered her hair into a pile at the top of her head. "What do you think?" she asked, spinning a tight circle.
