by Jon Chaisson
I merely wish to talk to you, Saisshalé said.
“Make it quick.”
Saisshalé laughed at him. You understand well, Matthew. I will not kill you. I have merely pulled you away from your defenses. You are completely bare to the world, here and now. And I know that is exactly what you fear most. I just wanted to show you what I am able to do, my dear sehnadha. I have returned to nullify the One of All Sacred, that is all...but I find that there are certain obstacles that I have to eradicate first.
Matthew paled. Dolan had known. Had orchestrated this moment. “You are so full of shit,” he managed.
Not at all, he countered. As a reality seer, Dolan knew I would be here, talking to you. I would have made my presence known to you eventually. And a few minutes from now, there will be a few Metro Police cruisers coming up Ormand Street, and they will see you here, pathetic, lying on the pavement like a drunkard, unable to defend yourself. They will know who you are, Matthew. One of the officers will recognize you as the jacker who infiltrated the Tower during the Ascension. He’ll be pissing himself with excitement when he sees you.
He's Shenaihu, by the way. Just so you know. Not that it really matters at this point.
Matthew swore and hoped Saisshalé was bluffing, but it didn't seem possible that he was. He could not escape, not in the shape he was in. Saisshalé would try to keep him here until the officer arrived and Matthew would be out of the picture. He had to make sure that didn't happen.
Let me tell you this, my friend, Saisshalé said. Your Vigil may be an anarchistic collective bent on keeping politicians and businessmen in line, but on the spiritual end of things, you're in way too deep. Did you really think that you and your father could stop the Shenaihu nuhm'ndah, or stop me? Did the both of you really believe that your little pissant group could stop this war from happening? You should know better than that!
No, what you need to know is that I can't be stopped, not in the ways you and your father have been trying for so many years. You stop me, and I find another way. You kill me, and I return. I am immortal, just like the One. You should be wise to remember that, next time you try to start a crusade against us.
“How very fucking noble of you,” he spat.
Saisshalé laughed again. Yes! Very much so!
“You know the One of All Sacred could make the same claims, Saisshalé. You're no more immortal than she is.” He managed to roll himself onto his knees and push himself up, climbing up the side of the car again. He chuckled with delight and surprise. “You're going to have to come up with something better than that, Saisshalé. I'm sure you've heard the phrase 'studied indifference.' It’s well used around here, especially within the ARU. These people here, in this city? They know you're coming, but they've chosen not to participate in your little revolution this time.”
His words hit their mark a little too well. That will change soon, Saisshalé said gruffly. One way or another, they will become a part of this. Look at yourself, Matthew. You’re hopeless. You were once the cynical bastard, now you've become the Preacher. You've gone soft. Sold out. Which makes it that much easier for me to ply you in whatever form I wish.
“A lot of people would kill themselves than give up free will,” Matthew said. “I hope you know that.”
Yes, I do. Gharra needs thinning out as it is.
He shivered and hoped Saisshalé hadn't noticed. He tried again to push himself up to a standing position, and managed it with some effort. His knees were weak, barely strong enough to walk even across the street and back to the apartment. He had no commlinks on him. He couldn't call Jenn or anyone else on the team for help.
Eyecam? He was too weak to turn it on and ghost a call.
“Are you sure you can do that, Saisshalé? Honestly. Do you think you can eradicate an entire population on the grounds that you can't convert them?”
I've done worse.
“This is no longer your spacefaring era. I think you’ll find it much harder this time out.”
Behind him, he heard the dual high-low tones of a police siren. A cruiser was barreling up Grieves Street from the north, and from the lights reflected off the buildings up the street, a few were about to come down Jamison Street at Branden Hill Park and head up from the south. There was no way he could escape now, not without being seen. He took a few brief steps away from the car, wavered, and found his balance. He stood still for a few moments more to keep it.
Good luck, Matthew. You're about to be incarcerated, despite your heroics. We'll meet again, I'm sure. Tell Agent Poe I said hello.
Saisshalé’s voice faded quickly along with all the other echoes of late night Bridgetown. Tires screeching suddenly, he watched the police cruiser take a wide curve onto Grieves.
He froze in place, cursing aloud. This was not the way he'd expected to be caught by the BMPD. It was overkill, it really was. Saisshalé had proven his point, and proven it well. He crossed the street slowly, and to his amazement had made it without falling. But that was all he had. The Kellerman building was half a block away, and there was no way he’d make it in time. Finally giving into exhaustion, he dropped to the curb and tucked his head between his knees.
“Bastard...” he growled, though he knew that Saisshalé had already left the area. The void of the man’s soul had been filled somehow. He tried pushing himself up again, lost his battle, and slowly laid himself back down on the cold hard pavement, facing away from the street, and closed his eyes. Seconds later he was out.
“Davison.”
Matthew stirred.
“Davison! Get your ass up!”
He felt a hand grasp his shoulder tightly, shaking him awake. He stirred again and opened his eyes. The dull white of a solitary holding cell wall appeared before him, partially blocked by the BMPD officer standing over him.
“About damned time,” the officer said, and stepped away. “Get up. We're transferring you.”
“Wh...where?” he croaked. He managed to prop himself up onto his elbow. His strength was slowly returning, but he wasn't about to rush it.
The officer huffed. “Branden Hill ARU has a use for you, believe it or not,” he said. “Pisses me off, but there's nothing I can do about it. Apparently you've made quite the splash with the governor. He put in the transfer himself.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Matthew smirked. “Well...tell Anton I said thanks.”
“I’m not telling that jackass anything,” the officer said and moved towards him again. “Come on, we don't have all night.” He started to grab for his shoulder again, but Matthew twitched out of his grasp and pushed himself off the cot. The officer snorted at him and stood back, admitting defeat. He escorted him out of the cell and into a long hallway. The floors were black, the walls gray, and the ceiling tiles a pockmarked white. There were no windows to be seen anywhere. Other cells lined both sides of the hallway. Completely devoid of color, life, and spirit.
“So this is BMPD,” Matthew said. “I was expecting as much.”
“High level holding cells, Davison,” the officer grumbled. “I'd watch your mouth.”
“Sorry, sir,” he smirked. “So Anton called me out of here?”
“Actually, one of the CNF lackeys called,” he said. “The weasel. Priestley.”
His smile quickly vanished at that name. “Jack Priestley?”
The officer shoved a portable vidmat at him and turned it on. A data packet opened itself up and displayed a signed order from Priestley — unsigned by Rieflin, he noticed — allowing the transfer.
Taking the vidmat, he flicked at the interactive screen, scrolling down the order until he found the officer demanding the transfer. Chief Inspector Dylan Farraway. Alec and Caren's boss. He nodded and handed the vidmat back to the officer as he was led to the end of one hallway then down another. He tried to make sense of it and couldn't. Why would Farraway go as high as the governor to get him out of the hands of the BMPD? What did he want with him? As far as he knew, Farraway knew about his conn
ection with Poe, but that was it.
After a maze of hallways and stairs, Matthew was surprised to see windows. It was still late night, most likely coming up towards dawn soon. He saw the familiar shapes of Bridgetown, all the office towers and techware buildings all in a tightly packed area, and realized he was looking southward. The Mirades Tower rose over everything else as always. He was being held at the Main Headquarters on North Main in McCleever Sector, a simple drive up Jamison Avenue.
The officer led him to a series of desks, where he picked up his belongings and was officially released. There was an odd quaintness in this rush of paperwork and processing. It was seriously less demanding than he thought it would be. And when they were finally done, with the sun slowly rising over the ocean, they made their way to transport.
“We're taking four-thirteen,” the officer said when they walked into the garage. A fleet of black BMPD cruisers lined both walls, waiting to be used. Their car was halfway back on the left. From the entrance, he saw what looked like a yellow smudge on the concrete floor in front of the car, but couldn't make out what it was. From this distance it looked like graffiti. He'd heard of gangs infiltrating police garages, even headquarters, spraying their tag as a sign of bravery or initiation. This would be no different.
“Smartpaint,” the officer said to him as they approached the car. He pointed downward at the graffiti that still looked fresh. “Been here for three days. No one can get the damn stuff out, not even the drones.”
Matthew read the sprayed words. Here lies fate.
“Curious,” he said.
“You know something about this?” the officer pointed down. “You know who did this shit?”
“Me? No. I've just seen it a lot lately. Same as everyone else.”
The officer gave him another stare before opening the rear door and letting Matthew in. “You're a jacker,” he said. “You should at least know what the hell this 'here lies fate' shit is all about. It's damn near everywhere.”
Matthew dismissed the comment and answered the question. “Honestly? I don't know a damn thing.” It wasn't exactly the truth, but it seemed to appease the man. The officer jumped in and started the car, momentarily glancing in the rearview to check that his prisoner was behaving.
“Well...” the man said. “Perhaps you should.” He shifted gears and pulled out of the parking spot a little faster than necessary, squealing tires as he headed towards the exit. Matthew looked over his shoulder at the ground behind them, at the simple design of the tag. Just three plainly written words inside a rectangular box, no swirls or crosses involved. It looked nothing like the other graffiti he'd seen that included these three cryptic words.
Here lies fate.
Matthew turned back around and faced forward just as the car pulled up to the vehicle exit. He asked the officer to open the passenger window, just so he could get some fresh air. The autumn sky was slowly turning from dull black to a dusty gray to a deep blue and he heard the first morning calls of the birds as soon as they exited. He yawned, his strength now restored but his body exhausted, and his mind cluttered. There was nothing else he could do now. He closed his eyes and napped as the officer drove him back to Branden Hill District, to ARU Headquarters.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Madhyané
Amna Ehramanis hated nights like this. She stirred on her futon and stared upwards, watching the interplay between light and shadow on her ceiling. She'd thrown off all the bed sheets hours ago. She rolled and wriggled and could not find one comfortable position. All the windows were open, she'd taken a freezing cold shower, her fan was going full blast, and still she sweated and squirmed. She even tried sleeping in the nude, to no avail. Why couldn't she sleep?
That trip to her sehna lumia had caused all this discomfort. Her body had wound itself up with such intense energies she could barely contain them. This wasn't a runaway adrenalin rush; this was a spiritual buzzing from within. She felt free, even freer than she knew or understood or deserved. She'd been awakened by Nehalé Usarai's ritual just like everyone else, but now she'd been Awakened by the One of All Sacred! By Denni!
Yet here she was, still staring up at the ceiling, frustrated as all hell because she couldn't do anything about it. She was here, in her bed, waiting for the morning to arrive. Why did this room feel like a sweltering ninety-five degrees when she knew it to be in the low sixties? Was it her spirit, begging to be set free?
She needed to do something about it, right now, before it drove her crazy.
Ampryss, she called out from within. She had no idea if she could reach her. She’d made it up to Trisanda with help from Denni, and was reasonably certain she could get there by herself now. Calling Ampryss was a long shot, but worth the try. Ampryss, she called again. It's me, Amna Ehramanis. Denysia's friend.
She closed her eyes and grunted, embarrassed by her pathetic attempt. Even if she could hear her, why would she want to talk to her? She tried once more, this time focusing on her remembrances of Trisanda. She remembered the five-pronged Möbius strip she'd seen in the Great Field...the sigil of her family name and of her Mannaki heritage. She used it as a focus point and tried one more time.
Ampryss...
A breath that was not her own startled her. Ah...Amnaia Ehramanis, came the response. She did not sound entirely happy to hear from her. I am surprised to hear your voice, young one.
If I have interrupted... Amna began.
No, not at all. Just unexpected. Your spiritual strength has grown so much.
Strength? Amna squirmed again, and rolled over until she lay flat on her back. She thought of asking her what she meant, but felt it would have just wasted time. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the woman's presence again.
You are always welcome here, Amnaia, Ampryss said. I do apologize for my discomfort in this situation, as your call was unexpected. Is there something I may help you with?
I'm a little confused, she started. I thought I'd been awakened already, and now it feels like I've been awakened again. Does that make sense?
She felt the warm wave of energy and read it as amusement. Perfect sense, eichi. In a way, you have. I cannot adequately explain why something like this would happen. It can only be something you experience on your own. When edha Usarai performed his first Awakening, your spirit was affected. You became more conscious of those around you, as well as your own sense of being. You were drawn towards Denysia Shalei in such a way that you knew not to question it. You knew, even then, that you were her Protector, and you accepted that responsibility gladly.
Amna nodded silently. That had soothed her anxiety, and now she rode this calming wave even further. She peeked outside and saw the eastern sky beginning to fade into the gray-blue of dawn. She had been up all night without a wink, and she did not feel exhausted, but now she did not feel animated anymore. Just...at rest. As centered as she'd ever been in her entire life.
And it felt incredible.
Yes, Amna said. And I still do.
Ampryss hummed in agreement. Very well. I shall tell you, then, that this second Awakening is a personal one. You have not fully experienced it yet, but you shall, and very soon. I do not wish ill upon you, dearest child...but I am afraid of what might happen to you. In order to complete your awakening, you must visit your own true sehna lumia. You must see for yourself who and what you really are. Do you understand?
Amna shivered. I think I understand. But I don't know if I'm ready.
You are ready for the second trial, Amnaia, she said. It is the truth you are not ready for.
“That doesn't make sense,” she whispered into the otherwise quiet room. She let out a breath of frustration...and felt something odd. She'd closed her eyes earlier to focus...but now it felt different. She wasn't in waking Light any longer. No, this felt altogether different, physically and spiritually. As if she’d crossed some invisible line, some barrier between realities, and she hadn’t connected with this new one just yet. Distan
ced. Dislocated.
She opened her eyes and saw...
...a blinding snowstorm. She was...crawling? Her bare arms thrust into deep snow, her head tucked down between her shoulders to cover herself from the wet squall. Deathly cold winds railed against her, pushing her closer and closer to the ground, making her crawl through these snowdrifts until she had been pushed enough. She was —
What the hell...?
— she was dying. Dying! The Light of her body, her spirit awareness, began draining itself downward, downward into the ground, leaving a bloody trail of spattered crimson in her wake. She was —
Oh Goddess. I'm dying. I've been stabbed. I've been...
— fatally wounded by a dagger into her heart. She felt the long knife even now, stinging and hard and growing venomous within her, blood filling her mouth and her lungs. She'd been stabbed. Someone had killed her, had sought her out and ended her life and her spirit, all in one go.
A—Ampryss....I —
...someone who knew how to kill her, for she knew that she was an immortal, a spirit that could not die. She would return, and she would know and remember this violation upon her body and soul. She would exact revenge. But each time, she would have to relearn. She would need to relearn who she was, what she was, and to avoid this cruel fate once more. She could not die because of her responsibility to the One of All Sacred, even here, in this wintry landscape. And despite the searing pain cutting through her, she knew she could not die. She had to reach...
Where am I...?
She braved the brutal, icy winds and lifted hear head. Her vision blurred from tears and snow and blood, she could barely make out anything even remotely familiar. She may not even be in Bridgetown anymore. She may have been on some remote, hellish corner of Trisanda. She was on a path cutting through a vast expanse of forest, but she could not make out anything further than a few yards. The snow bore down on her, pushing her back, pushing her —
