by Sara Beaman
The girl begins to cry. She ducks behind a phantom guest and runs out of the room.
“That was cruel,” Julian says. “And utterly unnecessary.”
I shrug. “She isn’t Mariah Markham.”
“Be that as it may, she isn’t Zenas Markham,” Julian says. “The Wardens would know if this was a Persona of his.”
“Perhaps they do know,” I say. “Who knows what they aren’t telling you?”
My fledgling slips back into her native accent, eliciting a shock of pain sent straight to her nervous system. I demand she start over. Carlyle peels off my stockings. The tycoon finishes his speech. People applaud.
I sip my wine.
***
I snap back into myself. Mnemosyne has dropped the handle of the fork; it dangles from my fingers.
“Her doubles… they aren’t separate from her at all,” I say. “They’re just extensions of her. Like tentacles.”
“If we take the memory at face value,” Mnemosyne says.
I hand the fork back to her. “Do I have to do this again?”
She puts it away on a different shelf, shoving it between a wooden box and a Polaroid camera. “Yes.”
I groan internally.
“But for now, you should return to the estate and make your preparations,” she says. “Leave for Chicago as soon as possible. Find Markham. Bring him to me unharmed.”
I look around the circular chamber at the endless shelves. I don’t see a door anywhere.
“Yeah, uh… how do I leave?”
As soon as the last syllable escapes my lips I find myself standing at the base of the stairway that leads out of the labyrinth. I can just barely see Julian waiting for me in the clearing, his thin frame silhouetted against the black sky.
Mnemosyne’s voice crackles in my head: You will not fail me.
“Whatever,” I mutter as I make my ascent.
Protocol
Julian brings me back to Adam’s suite. I open the door to find Haruko sitting on the couch, frowning at me, arms crossed in front of her chest. I shut the door behind me and give her a stupid grin.
“Hi,” I say.
She’s not having it. “Why’d you and Julian go out to the sepulcher?”
“I, uh…”
“Why’d you leave without waking me up?”
“Well, you know…”
“Mnemosyne told you to.”
I scratch the back of my head. “Yeah.”
“But why?”
“She’s, uh… she’s kind of out there, right now.”
“In the sepulcher?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She asked me not to.”
She glares at me.
“It’s true!” I say. “Not that you’d have any idea what it’s like to be put under a Compulsion.”
“If you’re expecting me to feel bad for you, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” I say, giving her a flat frown.
“So what happened?” she asks. “What did she say?”
“Well, she told me where Markham is—”
“Didn’t Horace already do that?”
“Yeah, I guess he did.” Come to think of it, I wonder if Mnemosyne didn’t get most of what she ‘discovered’ about the situation from my very own memories. “In any case, she wants us to go to Chicago, find him, and bring him back here.”
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
She snorts.
“What?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not like I have any say in the matter.”
“You mean you’re going to cooperate?”
“Well…”
“Seriously?”
“She said if I cooperate with her she’ll make sure Adam survives.”
“Right,” Haruko says. “Does she also have a bridge to sell you?”
I shrug and turn away from her, feeling defensive.
“Jesus, Kate. You don’t actually believe her, do you?”
“Of course not, but… what else am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, um…”
I give her a minute to finish her thought. She doesn’t.
“Exactly,” I say.
“What I don’t get is why she’s bothering to bargain with you,” Haruko asks. “Can’t she just force you to do whatever she wants?”
“She said she’d rather I do it willingly.”
“That matters?”
“I guess.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Haruko frowns thoughtfully. “There has to be some other way. Something that doesn’t involve her.”
“Well… there might be, I guess. Julian said something about a Warden ritual. Something called Remote Binding.”
“Oh yeah,” Haruko says. “That could work.”
“So you know how it’s done?”
“Well… no.”
“All right,” I say, trying not to sound frustrated. “Do you think Jennifer knows how to do it?”
“It’s possible, but she’s…”
“A blood ascetic?”
“How do you know about that?”
I ignore the question. “If we could get her to drink blood, could we do it?”
She shakes her head. “We’d still need to find another Warden. You need three.”
“Do you know someone that would help us?”
She looks down into her lap.
“There has to be someone—at least someone we could blackmail or bribe.”
“I’m sorry, Kate, I’m drawing a blank.”
“Well, then, maybe we’ll run across someone in Chicago.”
“‘We’?” Haruko asks.
“Calm down,” I tell her. “I meant Julian and me. I’m assuming you don’t want to come.”
Haruko scoffs and rolls her eyes, offended.
“I’m sorry. Do you want to come?” I ask. “Do you really want to help me run errands for Mnemosyne? Right next to the WotA headquarters?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” she grumbles.
“Oh. Okay.”
She stands up and walks toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To go pack.”
***
As I wait for everyone else to get ready to leave, I sit in Adam’s suite, trying to piece out how we’ll capture Markham alive. I really don’t know if I’m up for it. Markham evaded the Wardens for years, and when they finally found him, he managed to make them believe he was someone else. Why does Mnemosyne think we can do any better than they did?
Because we have Julian, I guess. And Aya was in love with him, or at least she said she was. He was. I’m confused about pronouns as they relate to him. Or her.
I review Mirabel’s memory in my mind’s eye, poring over the details. Mnemosyne warned me not to take it seriously. She said it was warped, that it presented a fractured version of events. Still, I find myself scrutinizing Aya’s reaction when Mirabel accused her of being Markham. Was she lying? Or was she genuinely confused? I’m thinking it might have been the latter. After all, Adam didn’t know that she was lying about her identity, at least not for sure. He didn’t know she was Markham.
I’m running the tape yet again in my mind when I hear a heartbeat in the distance. It gets louder with every passing moment. I hear footsteps, then the gentle hiss and sigh of inhalation and exhalation. Someone—a human—is approaching the door to the suite. I think it’s a woman.
She knocks.
I purse my lips and pull them tight around my sharpened teeth, as if that will keep them locked away, and I answer the door.
It’s Aya.
I nearly trip over my feet trying to put distance between us. I crash into the lounge.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
I look up and it isn�
�t Aya anymore, but some other petite girl with long dark hair, someone I don’t recognize.
She smiles anxiously. “Julian suggested I visit you before you go on your trip,” she says. “You’ll be in the van for fifteen hours…”
I’m gripping the side of the lounge. I must have grabbed onto it to keep myself from falling.
“You mean to let me feed on you?” I ask, sounding just as awkward as I feel.
She closes the door behind herself and nods. “He thought you’d prefer a girl.”
I make a face, embarrassed. Alan must have told him how I don’t want this stuff to be sexy.
“I hope that’s okay,” she says.
“Yeah. It’s fine. Uh… do you want to sit down?” I ask, gesturing at the couch.
“Sure,” she says. “I’m Amber, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.” The words sound forced, like I’m choking them out—because I am—but at least I’m talking to her, and not ordering her around. “I’m Kate.”
Amber sits down, crossing her legs at the knee. “It’s nice to meet you, Kate.”
My chest aches. All I want to do is attack her, to find an artery and rip into her skin. But that is not what I will do. That is not who I am choosing to be.
“Can I, uh… can I ask you a question?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says.
“How is this sort of thing supposed to work?” I ask. “Is there some kind of protocol?”
“There is, actually,” she says. “Well, sort of. There are formalities, but usually only older revenants follow them. The younger ones don’t tend to have a whole lot of experience meeting redlisted people in a formal setting.”
“So what do they do?” I ask. “These older revenants, I mean.”
“They always ask for our names. Ask where we’re from. Other questions like that. You know, polite conversation. Sometimes it can go on for a while.”
“Yeah, but how do they ask for… you know?”
“Blood?” Amber asks.
I nod.
“Ideally they don’t,” she says. “They wait for an offer. But when they need to be forward, there are some euphemisms they tend to use.”
“Like what?”
“They might ask for ‘a kiss on the neck’, or ‘a deep kiss’,” she says. “Sometimes they’ll express interest about… well, taste. That kind of thing.”
“These sound like bad pick-up lines.”
“That’s basically what they are.” She laughs. “Why are you worried about it? You’re young. You can get away with murder.”
I frown. Mirabel would know how to behave, and I need to be able to convince people I’m her.
“Sorry,” Amber says. “Bad choice of words.”
I shake my head. “No. That’s not it.”
She raises both eyebrows.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay,” she says.
I want to ask her more questions, but the pain in my chest is becoming excruciating, and I don’t think I can wait much longer for blood.
“All right,” I say. “Here’s my shitty line. Can I bite you please?” I shade my eyes out of shame.
“That’s why I’m here,” she says, laughing. “Stop worrying. Come here. Sit down.”
I sit down next to her on the couch, my nerves humming. Her skin smells amazing. Her heartbeat is so loud now, I can feel the reverberations in my bones. I swallow hard. “Where should I…?”
“I’m comfortable with whatever.”
“Does it hurt?”
Why did I ask that? I know it hurts!
“I don’t mind it,” she says.
“Really?”
She turns her back to me, pulls her hair away from her neck. “Here,” she says. “Right there, on the side of my throat.”
She doesn’t need to continue. Without another thought, I sink my teeth into her neck. She flinches, and my stomach goes fluttery. I hurt her right now, like Gabriel hurt me. I hate this, and I hate myself, and I hate what I’ve done—yet part of me relishes it. And not a small part.
I pull my teeth out and suck the wound, forcing myself to remember when Gabriel attacked me and bit my throat, what it felt like after—that awful, throbbing agony, the hopelessness that came with the blood loss. I think of what came after that, how Tara healed my throat, the warm soothing aura that emanated from her fingers.
I’m an illusionist, aren’t I? I can alter sensory experiences. Can I make this feel like feel like something other than pain?
I imagine that same healing warmth radiating from my lips down into the flesh of Amber’s neck. I make myself feel it, believe in it.
“Mm,” she says. “That’s really not so bad.”
She’s right. It’s still awkward, and I still hate it as much as I love it. But it’s a small victory nevertheless. There’s enough pain in this world.
***
Later, in the small hours of the morning, Julian, Jennifer, Haruko and I meet in the garage, along with Matthew, the driver I assaulted back in Red Hook. After putting my overnight bag in the trunk of the van, I linger behind the vehicle longer than necessary, just to be a little further away from him. I come out only after I hear the driver’s side door open and close. The rest of us cram ourselves into the back of the van. Jennifer sits next to Haruko, who practically recoils in response. I’m forced to sit next to Julian.
I hear the garage door open. The engine starts and the van rolls forward.
“What do we expect?” I ask. “You know. In Chicago?”
“In what sense?” Julian asks. “From the Wardens?”
“Let’s start there,” I say.
“If things go well, absolutely nothing,” he says.
“What if they don’t go well?” I ask.
“Hmm. Well, the headquarters of the Watchers of the Americas is an underground complex below the city,” Julian says. “It looks a bit like a shopping mall. Many individual offices and departments along a central atrium.”
“Okay,” I say.
“I’ve heard that the bottom floor of the complex is a kind of dungeon,” he says. “I understand it’s quite difficult to escape from.”
“That’s an understatement,” Haruko says. “It’s impossible to use blood magic in the complex.”
“Like it was in Red Hook?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “And the prison Julian mentioned is like supermax in miniature. Its security systems are updated every year. It’s just about impossible to break out of.”
“I take it we need to avoid being captured,” I say.
“At any cost,” Haruko says.
“The question is, how do we plan on doing that?” I ask.
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to,” says Jennifer. “Does anyone else get the sense that this is Mnemosyne’s way of getting us out of her hair?”
I frown. “If she wanted to get us out of her hair, couldn’t she just compel us to stay in Julian’s basement forever? Or, you know, kill us?
“I tend to agree with Katherine,” Julian says. “I believe Mnemosyne wants us to succeed. Besides, I’m permitted to visit Chicago any time I like. As is Mirabel. And the Wardens won’t be able to detect either of you two.”
“I understand that,” Jennifer says. “But it’s a clean city. How does she expect us to capture Markham without using manifestations?”
“Why can’t we use manifestations?” I ask. “It’s not like we’re going to the WotA mall.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Haruko says. “Manifestations are forbidden throughout Chicago.”
“Do we care?” I ask.
“Yes, because as soon as you use one, you’ll attract the Wardens’ attention,” she says.
“But I’m Mirabel,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jennifer says. “No one is permitted to use blood magic in the city. Not even Mirabel.”
“I hasten to add, you’re supposed to be pretending to be one of her doubles,” Julian says. “Most of whom have no abili
ty to manifest.”
“Well shit,” I say. “How are we supposed to pull this off, then?”
“We shouldn’t need to use any tricks,” Julian says. “Markham will want to see me.”
“What makes you so sure?” Jennifer asks.
Julian shrugs. “Past experience.”
“It’s simple,” Haruko says. “Julian lures him out, I seal him. Done.”
“But he’ll see you coming,” Jennifer says. “He won’t just sit there and let you do it.”
Haruko frowns, wrinkling her nose. “That’s right. He’s still a Thalian, isn’t he.”
“What if Julian convinces Markham to leave Chicago?” I ask. “Once he’s out of the area, we can use manifestations, can’t we?”
“Yes,” Julian says.
“What are you planning?” Jennifer asks.
“I was thinking, you know, maybe Julian could use his magical vampire powers on Markham,” I say. “Compulsion or something. Just a thought.”
“Kate,” Haruko says. “Julian’s sealed.”
I sigh nasally. “Damn it. I forgot.”
“But you’re a Mnemonic,” Jennifer says. “How could you—“
“I mean I wasn’t thinking clearly,” I say, annoyed. “All right. So Julian lures Markham out of the city, and… I don’t know, distracts him somehow, and then I make myself invisible and sneak up on him, and…” I trail off, thinking.
“Use your magical vampire powers?” Haruko says. “Compulsion or something?”
“It might be wiser to simply knock him out,” Julian says.
“How?” I ask.
“You’re a Somniac, aren’t you?” Julian asks. “You have Dream.”
“He’s right,” Haruko says. “Adam can put people to sleep. I’m sure it’s not that hard.”
“I’ve never done it before,” I say. “I’m not sure how it works. And I don’t have anyone to teach me.”
“You taught yourself to go invisible, didn’t you?” Haruko asks.
“Yeah, but there was trial and error involved,” I say.
“Well,” Haruko says, “we’ve got fifteen hours.”
***
I spend the next couple of minutes trying the techniques Adam used to put people to sleep on Julian. I remember Adam doing it with a touch, and I think he did the same thing by flinging blood at people. Julian cringes as I touch his arms and face repeatedly, ineffectually, and he protests vocally when I borrow a knife from Haruko, stab myself, and smear some of my blood on the back of his hand. But neither approach makes him fall asleep.
