Bedlam: Fourth Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller

  David sighed. He turned to SIM. “So what do you think happens now?”

  SIM took a quick glance at a piece of paper on his desk. “That depends on how much sway our friend Chas has back in the White City.” He looked at the Nameless. “Can you confirm what the others said? That she torched our killer with no more than a touch?”

  “I can,” said the Nameless. “I should also mention that I had never seen her do that before, even while the angel was still alive. Her flames—if we may call them that—would only burn away ailments and injury. Never living flesh.”

  SIM scratched his chin. “There was another Saint—a nun, killed by Rush during the war. Survivors say that she could also manifest fire, but hers was actually dangerous.”

  Rush, the Nameless remembered. She was being patched up as they spoke.

  “Meaning?” David asked.

  “Meaning that Chas may have found a way of aping this other nun’s power,” said SIM. “How, I have no idea. But I do know this: whether that is something she could always do, or something entirely new, makes zero difference for our current situation. As far as we can tell, she is the last Saint, and that means the White City will listen to what she has to say.”

  “Meaning that we’re boned?” asked David.

  “Not necessarily,” SIM said. “Remember, negotiations were going more than well, and she’d agreed to help us find the killer—something she by no means had to do. No, I think she genuinely believes that we never planned for this whole incident to happen.”

  “And what does that mean for me?” the Nameless asked.

  “Just that you need to do your job,” David said. “If there is anything to be salvaged here, it rests on the nun not being disturbed or attacked again. Can you see her off without issue?”

  “Yes,” the Nameless said. At least, I think so. “Is that all?”

  “Eager to check on your woman, huh?” David said. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

  “She should be fine,” the Nameless said as he went for the exit. Physically, at least.

  ***

  The Nameless awoke with the break of dawn.

  He had been sleeping on a sofa, in the living room of his third floor apartment. Still groggy, he rose, noting the lack of pain or discomfort in his limbs. It was so long since he last took a life. The sensation was exquisite, and he ached for more.

  It will pass, he reassured himself as he approached the bedroom. Rush had slept there, having been bandaged and treated in the hospital last night. Despite the doctors’ advice, she refused to stay there. The Nameless saw no reason to persuade her otherwise. She’d had worse.

  He opened the door, straining his eyes to get a good look at her without turning on the lights. All he saw were ruffled sheets.

  He flicked the switch by the door, illuminating the room. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that she wasn’t there. Why? And where?

  He stepped back and turned around, his eyes quickly gravitating toward the bathroom. He ran toward it without a hint of restraint or subtlety.

  Is she sick? He turned the knob and pushed. It didn’t give in.

  “Fukken occupied!” Rush shouted from the other side. She started to move.

  She was not leaning against the door. The Nameless took a single step back and kicked it in with all his might. It stopped after three feet, having apparently hit something.

  “First you blow me up, then you smash me in the face!” Rush tossed the door aside with zero effort, letting it drop into the bathtub. Aside from the bandages on her right arm, chest, and waist, she was practically nude. The side of her face was also patched up, gauze covering her right eye. Despite this, she didn’t seem to be in pain.

  A sharp turn for the better. The Nameless’ gaze drifted behind her back, focusing on the injector she’d dropped near the toilet seat. Or is it?

  He pointed at it. “This is too soon for your dosage. Explain.”

  Rush’s eyebrows lowered as her body tensed up. She turned away from the Nameless, picked up the chem-gun, and sat on the toilet seat. “You know what it is. My shit helps me get better.” She parodied herself using it. “So I gave myself an emergency fix to speed things along. After all, we can’t get it on if I’m all scarred up and in pain. Right?”

  The Nameless remained expressionless. “I have dealt with better liars than you. Something is going on, and has been going on for a while. Your actions, and the way you have been acting out; they are linked to this. So I will say it again: Explain.”

  Rush sighed. She let the injector drop into the sink as she leaned over it. “I don’t need to explain a damn thing, Bones. You know it as well as I do: I’m building up tolerance. I can feel it already, and I guess you’ve been noticing a difference. My stuff, it just doesn’t pack as strong of a punch as it did before. I keep getting more and more of a craving, earlier and earlier. Now and again, I’ve snuck in a shot or two when you weren’t looking, and it’d always push me up to 100% or more.”

  She spun the device around her finger in the sink, causing it to rattle. ”But I guess that’s a temporary fix in more than one way. Soon I’ll be needin’ more. Maybe even stronger stuff.” She smiled, but her eyes refused to play ball. “And with Khalid six feet under, we both know our chances of getting me that.”

  The Nameless approached her. He got down on one knee, meeting her at face level. “You are making your own chemicals, Rush. You have been doing so for the last year and a half, and your mind is quick and sharp. Perhaps you might be able to—“

  “No way of that ever happenin’,” she cut him off. “I got the formula in my head, yeah, and I’ve learned how to mix it. So what? Besides what I need for this, and only this mixture, I don’t know shit about chemistry.”

  The Nameless remained in place, his insides churning.

  “I’ve had a good run,” Rush said. “I was… I am happy. I’m gonna be happy for a while longer, and then…” Her left eye glistened, but she blinked the excess moisture away. “Well, whatever’s gonna happen when my shit stops working for me, I guess.”

  “I will find a way,” said the Nameless.

  “No, you won’t,” she said, running her un-bandaged fingers through her hair. “And that’s okay.”

  “This is not over,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” she said with a smile. It was the saddest expression the Nameless had ever seen.

  ***

  It was still morning. With a certain pace, an armed group of fifty advanced through the re-emptied part of the Circle.

  With an expression of a man hating the entire world, the Nameless strode beside Chastity. Rush was at his side, but Emile was nowhere in sight. The Nameless had spent a good deal of the last hour trying to find him, to no avail. He had left the pyramid last night, and that was where his trail went cold.

  When he wasn’t asking about Emile, the Nameless was trying to get Chastity to talk. These efforts were just as fruitless. The only questions she was willing to answer were those concerning her departure. Everything else, she ignored entirely. She even rejected a change of clothes. He flirted with the idea of having her detained out of caution, but quickly shot it down. If there was a way to stop this from escalating any further, jailing Chastity after failing to protect her retinue was its exact opposite.

  “You lot aren’t insane enough to have another go at us, right?” Rush asked her. After the apparent serenity from earlier, she had descended into a foul mood.

  Chastity replied as expected: with silence. The only living thing she interacted with was the mount she led by the reins.

  “They say you’ve torched Shit-body,” Rush continued to prod. “You touched her and—poof, gone! So tell me, oh purest of the pure—oh, fairest of them all, why haven’t you done it before?”

  Chastity blinked twice, once more than was necessary. The Nameless knew what it meant. She had wanted to keep her power secret. Now that it was out, she would exit the city before what was left of the M
ovement caught wind. If she doesn’t…

  The vanguard stopped moving, forcing the rest of the group to do the same. The Nameless prepared to order it to move along, but seeing the growing mass of people that blocked their passage forced him to reconsider his options. Something like this would happen.

  About half of the interposing band was black-skinned. The rest were of mixed Babylonian heritage. All were armed, with something either blunt or sharp. From the looks of things, civil disobedience was about to ensue.

  “You are about to do something you will regret!” the Nameless shouted. “Disperse, and no one will get arrested!”

  “And then she goes back to the White City.” Emile’s voice came from somewhere within the crowd. “Undamaged and unsoiled, the way she was before this whole nightmare began. How does it feel, Sister? What’s it like to start a war, cause so many deaths, and pay no price for it?”

  This time, she spoke. “I have said this before, and now I say it again: I did not agree with what was done in the name of the One True Church of America. I am here to make things right!” Then she whispered, “Or rather, to try.”

  “Is that why you never mentioned your little trick?” Emile shouted back. “Whatever you say, you’re still a Saint. You still bear gifts of a being that almost put us all to the sword!” He stepped out of the crowd, his suit as dust-covered as the street. He extended his arms, pointing at the mass behind him. “Look at all these people! Look! What you represent would’ve killed them all!”

  Chastity took a moment to reply. “We can debate this all day long. I am who I am, and I did not lie. Now, will you let me through, or will you not?”

  “I think our answer is apparent.” Emile’s dark eyes focused on the Nameless. “What about it, friend? Are we going to question her properly, or will you tear through us to let an enemy walk away?” The crowd raised their weapons.

  Two days ago, you couldn’t think straight long enough to count to ten. The Nameless’ eyes moved over the rioters. There was no chance that Emile had done this alone. No, some of the guards bore Chastity enough ill will to raise this mob on short notice.

  And Emile is merely a figurehead for their rhetoric. The Nameless stared the priest down. An all-too-willing tool.

  “Sister Chastity is a diplomat from a city we are no longer at war with,” he said. “And I refuse to give her over to you.”

  The Nameless expected Emile to reply verbally. Instead, response came in the form of an echoing gunshot.

  “Down!” Rush shrieked. Try as she might, though, she wasn’t faster than a bullet.

  Pushed by the impact, Chastity collapsed on her back. The mare panicked, rearing and flailing her front legs as if she were surrounded by enemies.

  “Hold your fire!” the Nameless barked as he unsuccessfully tried to get a better view of the downed nun. Not everyone obeyed. The new guard was formed mostly of former civilians who’ve proved themselves in the defense of Babylon. Even though they’d received their obligatory training, staying cool under fire was an entirely different thing. Unwilling to risk getting trampled, the guard to the Nameless’ far right shot the mare dead.

  Just as possessed by survival instinct, the rioters charged. Not in possession of firearms, their only chance lay in closing the distance. In the initial seconds, only a few of their number fell. This of course only increased their fervor, which in turn made even more guards choose to open fire.

  Insanity! The Nameless looked for Chastity through the chaos. She was nowhere in sight. He quickly turned to Rush, who had already brought her rifle to bear. He didn’t need to tell her what to do. With a single, fluent motion she disappeared within the sea of men, presumably in search of the nun.

  The Nameless braced himself, expecting for the two groups to clash violently. What happened instead made him cover his eyes.

  An explosion of brilliant, white fire erupted from the middle of the guards’ failing formation. Spreading toward the advancing rioters, it consumed their first row within moments, reducing men to ash and blowing them apart. Shocked, the mass stopped its advance, its members staring wide-eyed at the bloody-robed Chastity that now paced toward them.

  “Vermin!” she bellowed as she took step after angry step. “Parasites! Cancer!” She irately showed them her palms, which burned with the intensity of a pair of small suns.

  The crowd stepped back. Emile didn’t.

  “You want an enemy to fight?” she shouted. “Someone to hate? To persecute and kill? To shoot like a dog?” She extended her hands to the sky and sent out a blazing inferno. “Come on! Whoever dares, I’d like to see you step out and try!”

  The Nameless noticed Rush. She stuck out near the initial row, pointing at Chastity with an ‘I found her’ gesture.

  Silence.

  Chastity’s flames dispersed. Her posture was still irate, but the tone of her voice became more composed. “No one? No one at all?”

  More silence.

  “Then let us pass, you spineless weaklings!” she said, staring straight at Emile. His expression was one of sheer terror. Regardless, he didn’t move an inch.

  “And you,” she turned to the Nameless. “Why did you call us here if it was this unsafe?”

  What? Questions raced through the Nameless’ head. The second gunshot made certain that he wouldn’t ask a single one.

  Chastity’s head tilted backward. She straightened herself up a moment later, letting the Nameless see her fury one more time before she faced Emile. Her palms ignited once more. Alone, she started striding toward the exit.

  “Keep firing!” She made the flame gout forward, burning four people dead. The rest stepped aside for now, giving her a clear path toward the western gate. Disregarding the single, black-clad figure. “Whoever gets near me dies! Those who don’t, live! Is this simple enough for you rodents to understand?”

  For a while, she advanced unopposed. The Nameless used this time to take another look at the men under his command, as well as the others. He considered ordering an advance and seeing the nun out of the city as he promised. No use, he concluded. All it would do was make him look weak. Or worse, under the ‘enemy’s’ influence.

  Emile spoke again when Chastity came within some twenty feet of him.

  “I know what you’re doing,” he said.

  “Of course you do.” Chastity continued her pace. “You also know what I promised. If you do not move, I will end your life.”

  “I won’t move.” Emile smiled. “But you won’t lay a hand on me.”

  “How so?” Chastity asked. A moment later, she stopped advancing.

  “Because I have seized control of your skeleton,” Emile said.

  The flames around Chastity’s hands grew in size. However, she still didn’t move an inch.

  “I won’t give you the time to try anything funny.” Emile pointed a hand toward her, and made a single gesture. He beckoned her to approach.

  A long, agonizing scream escaped Chastity’s lips, stabbing the core of the Nameless’ being. One moment, she stood before Emile. The next, some of her stepped forward, and the rest didn’t. Blood and viscera slid down the naked skeleton as its flesh-suit grotesquely crumpled behind it. As he stared into it, Emile’s eyes glowed with an intense, emerald hue.

  No! Shock, disbelief, and pure rage bubbled in the Nameless’ chest. This could all have been so simple. So easy. Were it not for one unfortunate circumstance after another, Babylon and the White City could have stepped into the future as allies. Perhaps even friends at some point. And Chastity would have still been in one piece.

  His brow furrowed as he tried to ignore the moving skeleton and focus on Emile. The air around him seemed to thicken, swirling in a spiral pattern as it took the color of his eyes. The terror on his face was gone, replaced by genuine euphoria. Whatever had just happened, Emile had his mojo back. Perhaps even in excess.

  You will not benefit from what you have done. The Nameless cocked his rifle. Within seconds, the rest of his unit did the same.


  “Fire,” he said as he squeezed the trigger.

  A hail of bullets showered Emile and what remained of Chastity. To avoid getting shot, the mob around him dispersed even further, mostly disappearing behind the surrounding houses. As if it were not dead enough, the skeleton shattered into pieces almost instantly. In contrast, Emile stood his ground, the rounds dispersing into nothing in his proximity.

  Of course. The Nameless pressed the trigger harder, as if it would make any difference. Why would it be easy?

  “I guess this shouldn’t come as a surprise.” Emile pointed a finger at the Nameless, who instantly leapt aside. The very next moment, the men who stood behind him had the flesh melt off their bones in a cloud of sickly green. “Can’t allow me to live with this much power, right?”

  The Nameless wouldn’t trust in his mercy. As soon as he was able to, he leapt aside again, then once more. The expanding waves of emerald that followed him confirmed this was the correct course of action. He regained his balance, turning toward Emile as he prepared to dodge again.

  The priest was now more occupied with Rush, who proved even more difficult to hit. With hopping motions, she evaded the death-clouds and disappeared within the alley to the right. The Nameless reloaded his rifle, and realized halfway through why Emile was splitting his attention. The men who just died were not allowed to rest: their still-moving skeletons now advanced on both him and the living guards.

  Must not get distracted. The Nameless ignored them and sprinted to the left of Emile, who once again started pointing. He is the real target.

  Another cloud burst in front of the Nameless, who promptly changed directions. This forced him to move away from Emile, but there was no other choice. He couldn’t stop him if he was dead.

  In sheer frustration, he fired another burst at the priest. As if to remind them she was still there, Rush fired from somewhere no one could see. Both achieved nothing.

  “If I only knew…” Emile muttered while looking at his palm. He neither approached nor retreated, standing in the middle of the street. The soldiers killed by the skeletons he’d animated were likewise denied their respite, and rose over the course of seconds. The Nameless took his chance and hid behind an empty house. Full of adrenaline as he was, he almost shot the pair of rioters who were already there.