Ignoring the fear, anger, and general outrage I hear in all the voices shouting at me from my companions, I walk past them to the keyboard. We don't have a lot of time to waste in stupid explanations. I'll tell them later—if I feel like it. They aren't entitled to know the intimate details of that poor man's final moments in life, though I may end up telling them simply to try to get them to understand why I did what I did. Part of me thinks it won't even matter, not once they see what I do with the knowledge I gained. They didn't know that man the way I did, and they can't be expected to care beyond how it affects the mission.
I crack my knuckles, crane my neck until I feel it pop to relieve tense pressure there, and then my fingers begin to fly across the keyboard almost of their own accord.
When did I learn to touch type? How neat.
The sounds of terrible fighting cascades through the shattered doors as I finish looking at the pictures on the monitor. Luka shouts back, "You'd better hurry up, whatever it is you're doing. The fighting is getting closer."
No kidding. How else would a freaking grenade blow out the doors?
I ignore him, though, and focus on the screen. On it, hundreds of symbols stream by, the same symbols on the keyboard. I don't have time to explain to them how I'm not reading it like text but looking at the idea-pictures, the combinations those symbols create. The whole system is half magical, anyway, and once one knows the code, the knowledge simply gets absorbed. The problem is, that knowledge is hitting me on a primal level, and it's going to take a while for my subconscious to filter it through to my conscious mind. Although I know they’re going to demand an explanation, I can hardly find the words to properly describe it myself.
As the last line of symbols scrolls up and off the screen, my whole body suddenly shakes for a moment. I think the human mind must not be designed to take in so much at once, process it, filter it... It feels like a mini seizure. Fortunately, it passes as quickly as it came on.
I vault from my chair. At least, I try to vault, but my legs are a bit shaky. How long have I been sitting there staring at the screen? I have no idea. I have a suspicion, though, that I don't want to be in the middle of a firefight when the magical knowledge I got from those files streams from my subconscious into my conscious mind.
"Let's get out of here." My tongue is thick, and I think I sound drunk. I bang into a table full-force as I make my way toward the shattered doors, much like I'm drunk. I hope that passes fast.
Luka glances at me and then does a double take, staring. After a moment, he seems to come to some decision. "Come on," he says and reaches out with his left hand to grab me by the back of my neck. In a crouch, he rushes through the door, forcing me to crouch and move along with him unless I want to do a face plant. Which I don't, so I keep up as best I can.
Before us, the scene is horrible. The dead lay all around, outnumbered by the wounded who are crying and screaming in pain, and the sounds of guns firing, and the clang of swords and knives clashing. It's a chaotic maelstrom, but I think that's going to work out well for us. It might be our only hope of escape.
We all know what to do, so there is little conversation as we make our way from cover to cover, dodging behind overturned desks and marble support columns, heading toward what I think of as the Emporium's southwest quadrant and the portals still glowing cheerily over there. The whole journey is a mashed-up collage of sounds and smells and images, everything happening too fast to keep track of or make any sense of what's going on at any kind of a detailed level. Basically, it's a blur.
Only one moment really stands out with clarity. A tall, scrawny man I've seen before charges toward a knot of Revenants, flanked by two men who are at least as tall as he is but massively built. Maybe there are magical steroids out there, who knows? If there are, those two dudes were taking them.
One of the burly guys leans down and grab something. As he lifts it up over his head, I realize it's not a what, but a who—it's the small man I had a run-in with earlier. The hapless little person is kicking and screaming, but to no avail. His captor releases him, all right, but definitely not in the way he would have wanted. The burly man flings him like a shotput toward the little cluster of Revenants standing between them and the portals.
As the little person sails screaming through the air—I can hear his fear-filled voice even from here—the skinny man who reminds me of a snake shoves a fist toward the receding dwarf. A brilliant, neon green beam engulfs his arm and shoots out, hitting his victim with perfect accuracy at the speed of light.
The dwarf reaches the apex of his flight arc as Mr. Skinny hits him with his magic flashlight. The little man glows with the same neon green so brightly that it creates a hazy aura around him from all the smoke in the air, and as he plummets toward the Revenants, it only grows brighter. Just before he crashes into the burly man's targets, the hapless little person... explodes. Not just a normal explosion, but it's like he's ripped apart at an atomic level. This is magic, not technology, and the results are devastating. We are halfway across that massive chamber and I can still feel the blast’s concussion strike me in the chest hard enough to take my breath away.
I have to blink against the light, but as the spots clear, I see just how devastating the attack was. Maybe it was a result of the victim and his killer's magic coming together like matter and anti-matter, but whatever the cause, the target Revenants seem at first glance to have simply vanished.
It's not until our mad dash takes us closer, a few seconds later that I realize they did not vanish. No, they were blown apart into fist-sized chunks, blood and gore everywhere. Off to one side bounces a dismembered hand, the severed nerve endings making it twitch. The hand flips itself over and begins crawling across the floor on its fingertips like some sort of nightmare spider.
I hear a gurgling, agonized moan to my left, and I don't want to look, but I do anyway—and immediately regret it. It's half of a Revenant’s head, mostly the lower half. Separate from anything else, its mouth opens and closes, lips moving like it's talking, but it has no lungs to force air across vocal cords. Not anymore.
Then I realized a new implication. Oh man, it can't be... That chunk of bone and muscle that used to be part of a man's face and head is still alive.
I stop dead in my tracks, and I only manage to keep the contents of my stomach where they belong because of the horrible thought that I'd be puking on people. They may now only be chunks of zombies, but Luka is proof they’re still people. They ought to be dead people. I’m certain they wish they were.
Luka still has his iron grip on the back of my neck, and he isn't slowing down to give me time to come to grips with all of this, though. I'm not even sure he sees what I'm seeing, or maybe it's just his better-trained combat reflexes and experience that let him keep going. I just want to curl up in a ball and... and... if I'm honest, I just want to cry. I can’t handle what I’ve just witnessed.
The aftermath of that explosion gives me one horrific, nightmarish revelation. Even if we lock Luka in a room and let him deteriorate to the point where he falls apart piece by piece, he still would never get the sweet release of death. They can't be killed, they can't die, because they're already dead. It explains why I can't get a sense of what they’re feeling, not even Luka. Killing the Revenants and letting Luka come to his own natural ending isn't going to work.
Damn that woman, we're going to have to find a plan to undo whatever the hell Luna did to Luka.
Chapter 15
By the time we make it home, I'm too weary and battered to marvel at the fact that I've started thinking of this hovel as "home," like I usually do when we come back. As soon as I'm inside, all I want to do is flop onto some flat surface and sleep off the toxic mix of adrenaline, exertion, and horror that has defined the day for us all.
Instead, I glare at a mattress in passing as I head straight for Talon's room. I haven't seen him in hours, and I want to make sure he's still breathing. As I head upstairs, Birka heads for the kitchen, talking l
oudly about how everyone needs to eat. I'll have to thank her later—I know she wants nothing more than to do the same thing I'm doing, but they're leaving us alone for a moment. I’m pretty sure no one is actually hungry after that.
I needn't have worried about Talon, though. When I enter his room, he's sitting up in bed already, without any assistance, though he still looks haggard. Not nearly as bad as he'd been a couple days ago, though, I'm pleased to see.
"You look like you're doing well." Every word is a chore, but his answering smile makes it worth the effort. "Did you miss us?"
"Nope. Just some of you." His tone is flat, but his smile grows for a moment before it fades and his eyebrows furrow. "Did everyone come back with you?"
"Yes. I really don't want to talk about the mission. I suppose I should, though."
He shifts his weight from one elbow to the other, grimacing. "You found out something important. And, you don't want to tell me about it or you'd already be doing it. Just rip off the bandage, as they say."
Padding across the creaky floor as softly as I can manage, I thump down onto the bed to sit beside him, swing my feet up, and instantly find he's drawing me down onto him to rest my head on his chest. I put one hand on his shirt over his ribs, and I don't even care that my other hand is pinned under my hip.
He's disheveled, but incongruously, he smells of flowers. Lavender, I think. It's nice, and right away, the tension in my muscles begins to flow away. For just one moment, I forget about the horrid world that surrounds us and the nightmare I just witnessed.
"Thanks for coming in.” His voice sounds distant. “I like this. I'm not good at explaining this sort of thing, but you have to know it's important. I think that, without you here and moments like this, I wouldn't have the strength to keep fighting whatever this thing is inside me."
I manage to mutter, "Ha. 'Inside you.'"
"Shut up, stupid." He pulls me tightly up against him, and his lips brush my forehead.
I can't open my eyes, they're so heavy. I'm too comfortable like this, just he and I together. Here, at least, I don't have to think of that poor man in a tank every damn minute. "You're stupid."
My last thought is that I could go to sleep like this every night, forever, so long as it's with Talon.
Blue light, cerulean. Bright enough to be blinding, even through my closed eyelids. Am I dreaming? No, I can wiggle my toes. I can hear and feel Talon's heartbeat in my ear. Okay, so we're still lying in bed together with my head on his chest.
I crack one eye open, then blink in surprise. The whole room is awash in blue, so much blue. From where I lay, I look up to see whether Talon is asleep, still—and freeze. His eyes are wide open, and the blue light is coming from him. His eyes are like two blue spotlights.
I sit bolt upright, then scramble off the bed. "Talon!"
He doesn't move. Other than the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath, he looks like he could be dead, he is so slack.
Something on his face moves, and by reflex, I draw my fist back. I freeze before striking it thankfully, because it's not something on his face. As I watch, the veins in his neck are turning a deeper blue, creeping outward. It forks, it turns, until there is a spider web of shining, blue veins standing out on his face, his neck, now down his arms.
I hear screaming. I think it's me.
The door behind me bursts open, slamming into the wall as someone responds to my screaming, but my eyes are locked on Talon. His back spasms and arches impossibly far. He couldn't do that. Only a contortionist could twist that far.
With the force of a hammer blow, his back straightens and his arms and legs shoot out, rigid. Stiff as a board, his entire body lifts up off the mattress, rising inch by inch into the air as the light shining from his eyes, and now from his veins, grows even more intense. I have to shield my eyes, yet I can't take them off him. I become vaguely aware that I am still screaming his name.
Luka rushes into my peripheral vision, but someone grabs him and shoves him back. I think it's Birka. Everyone is shouting at once.
I stand frozen in place, staring at Talon floating in the air before me as he shines a putrid blue that turns everything in the room the same vile shade.
I find myself taking a step toward him, almost like I'm watching someone else do it. The others in the room are distracted and no one sees me. I reach out to touch him. Part of me screams, no! This is stupid. What if there's something in him that could get into me, too? I don't care, though. This is Talon.
The very tip of my finger, right below the nail bed, lightly touches his arm. I feel his soft arm hair, but also his skin. He's cold, yet sweating like he just ran a marathon—
There is a sound like a tornado roaring, faint at first, but it grows louder in an instant, like a storm rushing right at us. And then, total silence.
Talon falls to the bed, eyes wide, and I've never seen his skin so pale. Feebly, one trembling hand reaches out for me.
I clutch his hand, sliding my other arm under his neck to cradle his head. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" I don't think I've ever asked a more important question, and I'm terrified he won't have an answer for me. I need to understand what just happened.
The light in his eyes fades to a low, faint glow. He puts one hand on mine, and I feel every tremor as he shakes like he’s having a seizure. I think I see fear in his eyes, and I don't think I've ever seen Talon afraid. That terrifies me more than anything I just witnessed.
At last, he manages to say with a hoarse, trembling voice, "I feel them. Other hubs, other—" his whole body is racked by a massive coughing fit. When it clears, his voice is no stronger. "You took out one. There are more."
More. Dawson has more stations, more factories for his Revenant army. We thought we dealt him a major blow, but in reality, we've barely slowed him down—and Talon looks like he's dying.
I scream his name, ignoring whatever nonsense he was trying to tell me. I don't care about that. My world has focused down to the size of one man's face, searching for some indication he is not, in fact, dying in front of me.
The room vanishes, I hear a "pop" inside my head. No! Not now, damn visions. I have to get back to Talon—but I can't, and nothing changes—I am floating in an inky blackness, one I cannot escape.
And I can't even scream.
Chapter 16
I stand in darkness so black I think it might extinguish any light foolish enough to try to enter this place, and yet, I become aware of objects around me. Maybe it's my eyes adjusting, but it feels more like the objects are choosing to reveal themselves to me.
As they become more distinct, I can see that each one is an oblong, maybe seven feet tall. They’re just as black as the darkness around me, though. I shift to my left, feeling gingerly with my foot, but I find I'm standing on smooth, even ground, hard like granite. I come within arm’s reach of one of the ovals and shift even farther, to try to look at the other side. For just an instant, it vanishes as I move, but then the "front" comes into view. It didn't vanish. These things are two-dimensional. Where am I? I know this is a vision, but it feels real, not like I'm watching a movie but like I'm here on the set.
What I see in the object makes me freeze. It's a person, and somehow, I know it's a Revenant. It stands with its back to me, facing a man I recognize. It’s Luka. He rams a three-foot sword through the Revenant's head.
The image flickers, then resets. I watch it for a moment, and it replays the event over and over, like one of those animated GIFs.
I move on to the next oval. Here, too, is a Revenant facing away from me. A glowing, green tentacle stretches out from the portal to the man, winding back and forth until it connects to the back of his head. This Revenant stands frozen in fear as a grenade lands next to him. The grenade goes off, severing the green tentacle and sending the Revenant flying in many different directions at once. Then, it, too, resets, replaying itself over and over.
The next shows a similar scene, a Revenant killed by an explosion, but this
time it comes from somewhere "off-camera." Again, it replays itself.
I look around, confused, but now I see dozens of these objects. They are like one-way mirrors that only I can see through. Each one shows me a person's true death. These tentacles are their connection to life, somehow. Each one glows that sickly green color, the color of things turned putrid. Corrupt.
Only, the tentacles don't merely stretch from the portal to a Revenant. They grow through the portal. I don't know how I didn't see them before, but now I see that these glowing tentacles go the other way, too, into whatever place I'm trapped in. Now that I see them, I don't know how I ever missed them—they glow just as brightly on this side as on the other.
Where do they all go? I feel fear rising in the back of my mind as an idea begins to form... I follow the tentacles. They all stretch off into the darkness in the same general direction. With each step, I see more of the place I'm in, see through the blackness somehow. The tentacles wind back and forth, but they get closer together the farther they go, like they're all stretching off toward one single point in the distance.
I follow them, taking one step after the next, each more confident, more urgent than the last. I have to know—and I pray I'm wrong about their destination.
As I follow them and they keep converging, I see two connect. One thicker tentacle continues onward. Then, a third connects to it, and the tentacle that continues onward thickens. Three more converge with the thicker one at a single spot. They must all die together, there... It grows thicker each time a tentacle connects to it, until a dozen or more have joined it. The tentacle that goes on from there is thicker than my leg, pulsing and glowing unnaturally.
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