Emily smiled, because it was polite to smile.
“You see, Lord Thule – that’s why you shouldn’t make assumptions, precognition be damned,” Emily exclaimed. “I know three of the people on your list personally. Mark – he prefers to be called Mark these days, in case you didn’t know – made me a gift of a lesson in obscurity. He said I would need it.”
Lord Thule’s face darkened.
“That sounds like something Marcus would do.”
“He also told me to say hello to you, should our paths cross.”
“He would do that as well,” Gaul Thule snapped, jerking his head away, back to the view of the sea. “How is Marcus?”
“He has good moments and bad. Perhaps slightly more of the former. He worries over you often, Lord Thule.”
“I assumed as much. Marcus was always soft.”
“He’s still a big softy,” Emily said, smiling. “A beautiful failing.”
“I have not yet asked, Miss Muir,” Lord Thule said, raising his voice and glaring. “How is it that you know Marcus Bay-Davies?”
“Be careful, Lord Thule – I scare easily!” Emily giggled and scooted her chair away. “Mark and I are neighbors. The Outer Dark may be very vast beyond all imagining, but the inhabitable area is quite limited.”
“Do you mean to suggest that you bumped into Marcus at the store?” His halo rippled with brilliant yellow disbelief. “Taking a midnight stroll?”
Emily smiled, because she was certain that politeness dictated she smile for a little while longer, despite Lord Thule’s general rudeness. After all, Emily reminded herself, he was very much her elder.
“Close, but not quite. Mark and I both live in an isolated enclave with a small community of the like-minded, far from John Parson and his followers. Mr. Bay-Davies work is either pioneering new ground in the physical and scientific realms, or absolute madness,” Emily said, with an affectionate smile. “Depending on who you ask and the specific instance. His coffee, for one, is amazing, but I would avoid his brandy.”
Lord Thule’s pink eyes studied her so intently Emily thought she should probably take offense. The window that his desk was situated beneath, circular and fitted neatly below the narrow apex of the house, was the only unaltered element she could find in the room, and the pattern of shadow that it cast beside the desk on the new hardwood floor filled her chest with aching nostalgia.
“What if I ask you, Miss Muir? What do you think of the work of Mr. Bay-Davies?”
“Oh, I think Mark’s a genius.” Emily crossed her legs. “He is also quite damaged.”
Gaul Thule nodded as if she had confirmed his expectations, which made her feel oddly disappointed.
“How did he…?”
“That’s not part of our arrangement.” Emily wagged her finger at him. “Mark taught me the trick of evading precognition. Wouldn’t it be a tragedy for your kind if his method became common knowledge?”
Emily felt the oppressive weight of hostile telepathy as nearby Thule Cartel telepaths went to work in earnest, attempting brute force when subtler means did not produce the desired outcome.
The lack of patience and grace dismayed her. The fall from power had clearly been hard on Gaul Thule.
“How did he teach you? What did you learn from Marcus, Emily? What is the secret? Tell me quickly, and spare yourself further trials…”
“I won’t say a word.” Emily smiled broadly as blood poured bright red from her nose, staining her blouse. “I’ll die first. And I can’t die. Shall we talk?”
Lord Thule hesitated as Emily battled the team of telepaths beating a frantic tattoo against the high walls that protected her mind.
“Why would Marcus teach you that kind of secret?”
Lord Thule’s halo gave him away again.
“He wouldn’t teach you, I gather?” Emily held out her hands to the fire for warmth, acting as if she were not fighting a secret and pitched battle in her mind. “Envy is an ugly emotion, Lord Thule. You would do well to put it aside.”
Gaul seethed while his lackeys renewed his defenses against empathic probes, for all the good it would do him. The telepathic assault abruptly ceased, leaving Emily with the psychic equivalent of ringing ears. Lord Thule offered her a handkerchief, and she accepted, using it to dab the blood from beneath her nose and her lips.
“Very well. Consider the matter dropped.” Lord Thule leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “With that in mind, why have you come, Miss Muir?”
“The usual.” Emily leaned close to the fire. “I need something. I wondered if we might do an exchange.”
Lord Thule’s pink eyes cracked open to regard her with rekindled suspicion.
“An exchange requires a measure of trust in both parties. This is not the case, when it comes to the Anathema,” Gaul said. “I am not interested in such commerce.”
“Are you absolutely certain, Lord Thule?” Emily said, settling back in her chair, cheeks flushed with warmth. “What if I were to offer you something you truly wanted?”
“Such as?”
Gaul’s voice was full of disinterest, but his halo was saturated with the pearlescent sheen of intrigue. Emily wanted to laugh at the arrogance of his attempted deception, but that would have been impolite, and that was still important.
For just a little while longer.
“Something you had to give up when you left the Directorship. I’ll let you choose,” Emily said coyly, crossing her legs. “The current Rite of Access for the Source Well, or an administrative level password to the Etheric Network. What would you prefer?”
Gaul nodded, looking like he expected the offer, and that expectation tired him.
“How could you know…?”
“The information is current and valid. That’s all I will say.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie?”
“More reasons than I can count.”
“I suppose you’ll just have to take a chance,” Emily said, turning over her palms. “I’m at as much risk as you, Lord Thule. I’ll have to take your word at face value.”
There was a silence, and an abstract sort of effort about Gaul that made Emily think he might be attempting to operate his dormant implant out of long habit.
“You have a point,” Gaul conceded. “What would you want in return?”
“Nothing too precious,” Emily assured him. “A spark. That’s all.”
***
“I have communed with the assembled Church.”
It was a bald statement of fact, perhaps with a hint of challenge. Alex made no reply.
“They believe that our progress is too slow.”
Alex tried not to react. There was no telling what of his thoughts or emotions Samnang was privy to – or even understood – but he had to assume that her access was total. He was still reeling from the last set of nightmares, in any case.
He could not specifically remember waking up, but the terrible dreams seemed to have gone on forever. Alex was afraid to inquire further.
“They also believe that your recalcitrance is due to an excess of compassion on my part. I will face sanction for it, upon my return to the Church.”
“That’s insane. I’m not cooperating with you because you haven’t told me what you want.”
“Is that unclear?” Samnang appeared suspicious. “Very well. All that the Church of Sleep – and by extension, I – require of you, Alexander Warner, is one single memory. A memory which is not your own, in which my sister hid the important part of herself, in a vain attempt to evade the Church of Sleep. I am certain that you know exactly which memory I am speaking of, even if you do not understand the rest.”
The Yaojing waited like a coil snake while he deliberated. Eventually, even her preternatural patience was exhausted.
“Your decision, Warner. Will you comply?”
Alex laughed, or he wanted to laugh. It sounded a bit more like coughing, or barking.
The Yaojing wa
s angry, he knew. Alex focused nervously on not thinking about the vivid orange wings of Monarch butterflies, or the blue of the sea behind them.
Nonetheless.
“Your decision?”
“Sorry, Samnang. I’m gonna stay…what was it? Recalcitrant.”
The joke missed. She simply acknowledged his decision, with a finality that made him immediately regret it.
“Very well.”
“Yeah. Um. Do your worst.”
A missed beat. He could feel her studying him.
“Was that a joke?” Another pause. “Or a serious request?”
Alarm, entirely out of his control.
“A joke, a joke.”
“I see.” She thought it over. “In that case, we will begin something less severe, and work up from there.”
***
There was no way to be sure how closely Katya was watching, so Vivik had taken up the practice of waking in the middle of the night to use the bathroom for the last several nights, making a little more noise than necessary to be certain that she noticed. He would not be able to fool the assassin if she was already suspicious, but establishing a pattern made him feel more secure.
Vivik stayed up most of the night, diverting himself with his Vigil Protocol until the arranged hour, before the dawn painted the east.
He rose quietly, stepping into his boots and zipping his jacket to the neck. He didn’t use the flashlight in his right front pocket until he was a small distance from camp. The brush around him was sufficiently dense that he worried about finding their camp again, if he strayed from the old footpath or game trail they had been following for days. The flora was reassuringly familiar, with feathered grasses and reeds predominating, while fauna was reassuringly absent. Vivik flinched nonetheless at every crackling leaf or snapping twig.
She did not make him go far. On the other side of a bamboo grove she had hung an LED lamp, her dress the color of vanilla ice cream in the blue-white light, her lips and nails painted the color of shallow tropical water. His breath caught in his throat for a moment when she waved at him, and then he hurried over to her, grinning shyly.
Emily touched him gently on the bicep and looked deeply into his eyes, smiling encouragingly.
“Vivik, dear.”
“Emily, I...it’s good…”
“Yes, dear. I know.”
“Listen, I don’t think I was followed or anything…”
Emily shook her head.
“I don’t think so.” She looked out into the darkness, squinting for some detail that eluded him. “No halos.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I have exciting news for you.”
He perked up, and she laughed and took his hand.
“Yes?”
“You are very nearly there,” she said, eyes sparkling in the harsh, singular light. “Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day. Eerie will manage a few more minor miracles. After that, all that remains is the Outer Dark.”
Vivik’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed involuntarily.
“Not long, then. You’ll be waiting?”
“On the other side,” she promised. “Don’t worry. Everything is going perfectly. It’s all going to work out exactly the way we planned, dear.”
***
Alex moaned at the pain of a manipulated broken bone, an orderly having made good and sure to manhandle the injured limb in the process of delivering Alex, naked and shouting, into the converted pantry that served the institution as a makeshift solitary confinement.
Alex shifted from one position to another on the bare concrete floor, his body screaming at him, trying to find some sort of comfort, trying not to think about reasons or past circumstance. The only thing he could do was keep moving forward, Alex reminded himself, semi-delirious with pain and thirst.
Someone important had told him that, once, but he could not remember who, or when, or…anything, really.
Did forgetting things like that usually bother him? Alex could not remember.
The forgetfulness was a consequence, Alex suspected, of being left alone with his own thoughts until the lines between dreaming and waking blurred. Days melded together in the soundproofed room, peeing in a bucket and eating off a tray, the lights always on.
It did not usually start this way, Alex thought, not sure exactly what he meant. Or did it?
There was no point in worrying, he reminded himself. He was already laying in a pool of his own sweat, and the room only seemed to be getting hotter.
Time went on, in theory.
In practice, he picked over the holes in his memory like sores, listening to the hum of the magnetic ballast in the antiquated lighting fixture and counting the pits in the painted concrete wall. A name, even a name – the institution, the staff member who singled him out, the inmate he had tangled with – any of that would have helped to settle his mind, so that he could ease into what felt like a long period of confinement.
How long had they kept him in here, the last time? Was there a last time? There must have been.
It was hotter in the room, now, then it had been a few – hours? Minutes? Surely more than that! – earlier. Alex fanned himself with his bandaged hand, wincing at the way the air felt passing between injured fingers.
His eye ached and his vision was funny. He knew that it was a bad injury, though he could not remember how it happened. Alex could not seem to fully open or close the eye, light just came pouring directly into his head from a tiny seem in his eyelid, leaving him perpetually dazzled and half-blind. The sweat off his forehead stung like mad when it got into his eyes, so Alex paused from his fanning, using his bandages to mop his forehead clean, glad that his distorted vision kept him from seeing his injuries. When he opened his mouth, he could taste the hot dust of the San Fernando valley in the air, seeping around the door and settling in his lungs.
Was it hours, or days? The question itself enraged him. He settled back against the wall, reminding himself that there was nothing to wait for.
***
“You haven’t said a word, Vivik.” Katya’s mouth was mostly full of beef jerky, her words indistinct. “You gonna tell your story, or what?”
Vivik drained the rest of the instant coffee from his aluminum cup.
“Eerie?” He turned to find the Fey engrossed in her dusty, battered laptop, a fabric solar panel spread out on the grass beside her, Derrida sprawled belly up nearby, within casual scratching distance. “How far did you say we were from the Outer Dark?”
“Huh?” Eerie brushed dirty hair from her face and glanced up from the screen. She was mostly blond at this point, the remaining blue a few centimeters from the ends of her hair. “Close, I guess.”
“How close?”
“That’s kinda...”
“Eerie, what is our timeframe?” Vivik patiently changed tactics. “Days? Weeks? Hours?”
Eerie scratched her head.
“Hours?” There was uncertainty in her tone. “I guess?”
“Today, then?”
“Sooner,” Eerie confirmed. “This morning. This is the last morning…”
“Got it.” Vivik cut off the Changeling curtly. “Let’s get packed up, then. I’ll tell you everything on the way. My story is short.”
Katya sighed and shoved her balled up jacket in her backpack, squinting at Vivik as though he stood in front of the sun.
“You are making me very nervous, Vivik.” Katya studied him with clear-eyed mistrust. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“So many things,” Vivik said cheerfully. “My story should satisfy your curiosity, though.”
“Assuming you ever tell it,” Katya complained, zipping up her bag. “You’ve been stalling the whole trip.”
“Oh, this’ll be the day, don’t worry.” Vivik grinned as he helped Katya lift her frame pack to her back. “Honestly, my story tells itself.”
***
Kern County is as hot as a baker’s oven in September, and it was dusty enough in the old school b
us to suffocate the inmates. The trip began the day before, stopping at every juvenile lockup and state hospital that California had to offer, an agonizingly slow procession of bone-rattling rural highways and drought-ravaged fields. Alex thought maybe he started off at a youth facility in Plumas County, but he wasn’t sure of anything except the heat, the chalky dust that lingered in his lungs, the cramping in his back and legs, and the steady and insistent demands of his bowels and bladder.
The chains that attached him to the seat were too tight and notably short, forcing Alex to hunch over and preventing him from straightening his legs or back. He shifted helplessly against the exposed springs of the bench, trying to find a position that offered some relief, trying to distract himself from the pain in his gut and the strident demands of nature. The back of his head was damp with spit from the inmate in the seat behind him, who ranted and spat and swore in an unintelligible loop. Alex’s handcuffs were attached to a wide leather belt around his waist, so the blood and snot from his dust-scoured sinuses ran freely into his mouth.
Sleep was an impossibility. Each time the bus passed over a pothole it sent a jolt of pain up his spine and down his legs, and the rattle of loose metal and the whistling of the hot wind was deafening. The interior of the bus reeked of rancid body odor and misery and human waste.
The guards were up in front, in a bulletproof enclosure, powder-blue uniforms stained navy with sweat. There had been no stops for the prisoners for food or restrooms since sometime late last night, and the guards had been ignoring increasingly profane demands and frantic begging for hours now. Alex harbored no illusions about prevailing upon their sympathies.
It was quicker and safer just to hose off the bus after the trip, after all.
***
“I never saw any of this coming,” Vivik said, with an embarrassed little shrug. “I was so busy formulating a plan to help everyone that I never even considered what sort of compromises might be necessary to realize it.”
The Outer Dark (Central Series Book 4) Page 25
