Suture (The Bleeding Worlds)

by Stone, Justus R.

  "This one is extra," the whipped girl said about Jason. "I was preparing to dispose of him."

  Not-Angie stood and slapped the whipped girl.

  "You think your rank deserves to make such a decision?"

  The whipped girl hung her head. "No Ma'am."

  Not-Angie motioned to a few other figures by the door. "Place a collar and shackles on this one as well. The bit I gleamed from his mind would suggest he could be useful."

  They were organized, armoured in a similar fashion, and apparently had a command structure, suggesting to Gwynn maybe they'd been right—this was another world's version of Suture. Why did they keep referring to him as their objective? He'd ask, but he had no desire to be kicked or hit. Hopefully answers would come soon.

  Once a collar and shackles had been place on Jason, they were hauled to their feet and held straight so they could be inspected by Not-Angie, who pulled a knife from a sheath on the leg of her armour. She moved toward Gwynn. He did his best not to flinch as the cold steel approached him. She gripped his wrist and slid the blade beneath the band of his tether. One swift flick of her wrist and the blade severed the band, and his connection with his own world. He choked back a cry, not wanting to betray the importance of the watch-like device.

  She moved to Jason and removed his tether as well.

  "Gentlemen," Not-Angie said, "the collars around your necks emit a personal Prometheus Field, so don't bother trying to use the Veil to escape. The shackles on your wrists are tethers. Yes, we know about your tethers," she said in response to the look Gwynn and Jason exchanged. "You should be honoured. From this point on, you are the guests of the Valkyries."

  They were escorted down the building's stairs to a set of waiting vans.

  Jason and Gwynn were separated into separate vehicles. Not-Angie and the whipped girl were in the same van as Gwynn. He was thankful the girl couldn't continue to take her wrath out on Jason. He wondered if this version of Angie did it on purpose. Before the vehicle pulled away, Not-Angie reached over and tied a blindfold on Gwynn. She hesitated, letting her fingers linger on his temples.

  When she'd touched Jason, he'd appeared to be in pain. This didn't hurt—only a feather tickling at the center of his mind.

  What do you want to know? Gwynn directed the thought toward the sensation.

  Her fingers snapped away from his head, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath.

  "Who are you?" she whispered, more to herself than him.

  "Nobody," Gwynn answered. "Nobody special."

  "You're wrong. You just don't know it yet."

  §

  Njord made his way into the communications tent and dismissed the lone staff member.

  Alone, he locked the door, collapsed into the chair, and set the system for the highest level of encryption.

  He waited only a few seconds before Woten's face filled the screen.

  "Ah, Njord. I expected I would be hearing from you shortly."

  Njord straightened in his chair. "So Gwynn and Jason being gone is your doing?"

  "Gwynn and Jason?" Woten scowled. "Only Gwynn was part of my original plan. I will look into what has happened to Jason."

  "Good. When Alice arrived without them—"

  "Alice?"

  "Alesandra, from the Greek department."

  Woten stroked his beard. "Yes, watch her. Zeus has never insisted on anything outside the operation of his own branch, but he was very insistent on having her along for this mission."

  "What do you think he's planning? Could he know of your plans?" Njord asked.

  Woten laughed—a mirthless, cold sound full of contempt. "That old fool only knows one kind of plan, how to get under a lady's skirt. No, I doubt he knows my plans. Still, I don't trust the girl. Watch her closely."

  "I will, sir. And, assuming Jason is with your people, will you return him?"

  "No," Woten answered. "It would be too much to explain. No, we will just have to continue without him. I will dispatch the other two teams to your location. Inform the others I am sending them as support for the search efforts."

  "Do you think they'll believe that?"

  Woten smiled. "Would a loving grandfather do any less?"

  §

  Cain arrived too late. Again.

  This cursed town, lying at a crossroads between worlds, didn't register within the Veil how it should. Why was he always arriving too late? Could the universe be conspiring against him? A silly question, it had conspired against him for centuries.

  The distant notes of the melody echoed, suggesting he hadn't been too far behind. There was no evidence of where it had gone.

  How long had he been chasing that song? He'd first become aware of it eight months ago, but other, more pressing, matters demanded his attention. Then it became so faint, so hard to pinpoint, it seemed to come from everywhere. It had been so clear the other day, drawing him to a world too familiar. And there had been Adrastia. When he first saw her, he wondered if it was her melody he'd heard. But no, her song flared in front of him when he challenged her, and it wasn't the same one he'd been chasing.

  Now, here, he'd heard the song again. He realized that he might've heard it earlier, if he'd only known to listen. Too many years with its absence—he'd assumed the melody dead. Apparently, he was wrong.

  "Sormr," he said.

  A form slipped from the shadows.

  "You have called me, Lord."

  The man stood, head slightly bowed, with his right fist pressed against his left shoulder.

  Astounding that such a thin frame could contain such power.

  "Does your network extend to this place—can you tell me what happened here?"

  "Due to the…odd state of this city, no, I cannot tell you any specifics," Stormr said. "However, I do know the Valkyries were dispatched toward this place. Again, I'm not sure what their mission entailed."

  "Can you find out for me?"

  Sormr's hairless brows raised. "Does that mean you wish me to cease my search for the one known as Pridament?"

  His fists clenched. Pridament. The pressing matter keeping him from his search originally. He sighed. Should he put this ahead of his other obligations? This current project was personal and shouldn't be allowed to derail the greater plan. After all, what was the point of putting so many pawns in play if you were just going to let someone else remove them before they fulfilled their purpose?

  "No, keep searching for Pridament. I'll manage this myself. Still…the Valkyries you say?"

  Sormr nodded.

  "Thank you, Sormr. Resume your search."

  Sormr melted away into the darkest corners of the room.

  He moved in a slow arc, passing his hand over the remains of the door. The whole place vibrated with the remnants of a Prometheus Ring. That device, sealing a place in space and time away from the Veil, was an abomination—another example of human arrogance interfering with the natural energies of existence.

  Cain stepped to the door frame and ran his finger along the torn edges. Yes, he saw the scene now—two Anunnaki pursued into this building. The Valkyries would've used the Ring to null their abilities and employed conventional arms to storm the building. They hadn't bothered to cover the damage, so it was unlikely they would've bothered with blood—meaning the trace amounts he'd found indicated neither of the prey were killed. Was the melody one of the hunted, or one of the hunters?

  He leaned against a ledge by the window, closed his eyes, and pressed his head against the glass. He tried to summon the dream, the closest he'd been to facing the owner of the melody. There was only one explanation for those notes to reach him—only one reason he might touch that person's consciousness through the dreamscape. Why now? Shouldn't he have heard that melody years ago and dealt with that loose end? How many times had the world divided? Beyond a reasonable count, to be certain. Over all those centuries, he'd been alone. Reason dictated he would always be alone. He pressed his palm against his forehead and silently reprimanded himself for bein
g so complacent.

  A slight ripple in the Veil announced the arrival of three Anunnaki downstairs. He made to fold away, but decided better of it. Perhaps he'd learn more about who else's pawns were in play. Learning your opponent's moves was half the process of defeating them. He pulled the mask down over his face. A craftsman fashioned it for him in Japan during the tenth century. He'd worn it during many battles and continued to wear it now. There was power in masks. In those days, the designs helped strike fear into opponents. Now, the power lay in remaining anonymous. Entire universes worth of worlds hunted the mask, and yet he could walk any of their streets unmolested without it.

  The Veil tugged as the approaching boys drew weapons and strength. So, they'd sensed him. That almost registered as being impressive.

  He strolled from the ledge to an armchair and flopped into it. It was comfortable, much more so than the ledge. Why hadn't he sat here first? He spent the seconds before they arrived looking at the room. His first sweep through had been looking deeper, feeling the disturbances in the energies of the place. Now, he allowed himself the luxury of taking a superficial appraisal of the place. This was a comfortable chair, no faulting that. Tastefully decorated—sparse on colour and adornment. If things had been different, would he live in a place like this? Maybe, but it wasn't worth worrying about. A long life had taught him one valuable lesson—you were only where you were. No amount of wishing or what ifs would change it.

  The boys edged into the room, weapons ready.

  Cain spread his arms wide in welcome.

  "Hello, gentlemen. Why don't you have a seat?"

  §

  Jackson wasn't sure what made him more unsettled—the fact Jason and Gwynn had gone missing, or he'd voluntarily got in a car driven by Brandt—who was currently doing mach ten down an open stretch of highway that, thankfully, had been sealed off in the quarantine. If there'd been other cars, the chance of Brandt slowing down was slim, but the chance for Jackson to die of a heart attack significantly increased. He prayed Brandt would see the sense of slowing down when they entered the city limits.

  He couldn't blame Brandt for being in a hurry. In his time at Suture, Jackson learned when you lost someone, the longer they were gone, the likelier you would never find them—in one piece.

  "You got the map?" Brandt asked Caelum, who sat in the front passenger seat with a very obvious map open.

  "No, I left it back at the base." Caelum waved the map in front of Brandt's nose.

  "Shut up. I'm keeping my eyes on the road."

  "Maybe you could've taken a look if you weren't driving like such a maniac," Jackson grumbled.

  Brandt threw out a handful of colourful remarks in response.

  "So where am I going?"

  "Once we hit the town limits, keep going south for—"

  "Don't tell me none of that south, north, crap. Do I go straight, turn left, right, or around?"

  Caelum sighed heavily. "Go straight, and then turn left on the fourth street. That should take us to the area where Marie said it was closed."

  When they hit the city limits, Brandt stomped on the brake to bring them down to city speeds. Jackson nearly threw up.

  After a few minutes, including a single left turn, Brandt pulled the car to the curb and killed the engine.

  "Check it out," he nodded ahead.

  The road was blocked with a barrier wrapped in orange and white stripes that declared "Police. Closed." As if the message wasn't clear, several police cars and officers helped to emphasize the point.

  Caelum leaned his head out the window.

  "The signs say we can park for free for two hours. I think we're good to leave it here."

  The three disembarked and moved around to the trunk. Jackson and Caelum tried to look nonchalant as they blocked any onlookers from seeing inside. Brandt popped the trunk, rooted around, and then slammed it shut.

  "I got the flare gun. Figure we'll leave the guns. Don't need to risk that kind of trouble."

  They walked the opposite way from the barrier for a building length or two before cutting down an alley.

  "So what do you think, Jackson?" Caelum asked.

  Jackson rested his hand against the stone wall. He didn't need to, but being in contact with something that resided in the physical space made it a bit easier. Besides, it made the whole thing look cooler.

  His ability, and the impressions it provided, could be difficult to explain. He didn't receive flashes of images, or have secrets whispered in his ear. Instead, his body reacted to the emotional sensations of the place. If he felt like laughing, then something funny or joyful was, or had, occurred. It meant he was limited to his own experience. If his body reacted in a way he couldn't make sense of, then his ability wasn't so useful. And as Hodur proved, it could be tricked. He wasn't even sure how Hodur did it, but there was no way he could've accidentally missed the kinds of emotions leading someone to murder. At least, he told himself that when sleep proved difficult.

  "There's something going on behind those barriers," Jackson said.

  "No shit, Nostradamus, how about something useful."

  "Shut up, I'm just talking it out." He needed to talk it out. It wasn't so much a series of emotions, instead, his head felt muddled, like a voice other than his own whispered in his ear. "I… I think someone managed to control the people in this area. I feel like I don't want to be here. Like anything I see I'll just ignore, or forget. Even though I don't want to do any of those things, it's hard to resist. Someone used some major power on this part of town. It was hours ago, but it's still really strong."

  "Ok, so we're dealing with at least one other Anunnaki—a powerful one. Do you get anything that might tell us Gwynn or Jason were here?" Caelum asked.

  Jackson pushed further. Somewhere in the fog there was a trace of something else.

  "We need to get closer. I think I'm picking up some remnants of a…pursuit, maybe. It's too faint from here."

  Brandt leaned out the alley. Either due to the closure or whatever Jackson picked up, the area remained mostly deserted.

  "I think we're good," Brandt said. He tore into the Veil and pushed the energy into his legs. He leapt at one wall, pushed off and higher against the opposite, and gave a final upward push that put him on the building rooftop. Within seconds, Caelum and Jackson joined him.

  "Follow me," Jackson said. He kept low as he ran, always hesitating to check if anyone would see him as he jumped between rooftops. The sensation of adrenaline pumping through his system, the flight instinct taking hold, and the thrill of the pursuers flowed into him. He corrected course, following the path from its faintest sensations to the more recent. From rooftop to rooftop they traveled. Jason and Gwynn had given one hell of a hard time to whoever was after them.

  Jackson came to a stop.

  "Wait. This place feels different. The chase ended here."

  He went for the door that led from the roof down into the building. A wave of emotions washed over him, making it hard to sort. They had come this way, he was certain.

  Something new resonated with him. Something fresh and present. Someone else in this building was investigating as well. He felt curiosity and a fair dose of frustration.

  A psychic wall slammed down on him. It didn't hurt, though he sensed the person would've been pleased if it had. Instead, the connection went silent and empty. But Jackson had honed in, and he didn't need any new signals to know where Jason and Gwynn had made a stand.

  "There's someone else here," Jackson said. "Whoever he is, he's strong, and I wouldn't say he's friendly."

  "Finally," Brandt said, "something to do."

  They entered the apartment ready to be attacked.

  Instead, the man he'd sensed sat leisurely in an armchair.

  "Hello, gentlemen," he said. "Why don't you have a seat?"

  Brandt leaned toward Caelum's ear and whispered, "Someone's seen too many Star Wars movies. Who's he think he is, Darth Asshat?"

  The man in front of them
was clad in black, with his face hidden by a mask. While Brandt would immediately relate it to some movie, Jackson recognized it as a traditional samurai's mask—intended to strike fear and hesitation into the hearts of men on the battlefield. Not that this man needed it—everything about his posture spoke of a power to be feared. So he wore a mask why? Jackson tried to connect to the stranger's emotions.

  "Don't bother," the man said. "I've used the Veil to shield myself from your abilities. Still…you must be a very impressive empath to brush about against my defences and not lose your mind." He turned to look at Caelum. "And you are a healer. A very useful talent, you should feel blessed. And you…" He regarded Brandt with a cock of his head. "You are the muscle—not the most elegant, but useful in almost as many situations as either a healer or an empath. So, my new friends, what brings you here."

  "How about you tell us who you are, first," Brandt said.

  The stranger stood. In that single, fluid motion, everything in the room changed. Jackson felt the tension level of his comrades spike and knew beyond doubt this man could kill them all without effort. They were an amusement to him and he intended to toy with them. Jackson only hoped he would get bored and walk away. Of course, the likelihood of that was greatly diminished by Brandt's smart-ass mouth.

  "Why don't you sit your ass back down and answer my question?" Brandt said.

  God, we're so dead.

  The man laughed. It held no joy, nor anything sinister, just the condescension of an adult humouring a petulant child.

  "Well, since we are new friends, I'll let you call me Cain. To answer your next question, I'm here because I heard a familiar melody and I wanted to find the source."

  "Does any of that make sense to you guys?" Brandt shrugged.

  "Yes, it means his name is Cain, or at least that's what he'll let us call him, and no, I didn't quite understand the last bit," Caelum said, quickly adding, "I mean, I get what it means, but not what it means."

  "He's searching for a person," Jackson said.

  "Very good, empath," Cain said with a golf-worthy applause. "Take a moment and explain it to your friends. I really do have some time."