by K. Gorman
“And yet, here we are.”
Her nose wrinkled.
“Yes. Here we are.” She glanced around, jutting her chin out in a pointed way as she looked over the room and toward the hallway beyond. “Where is here, anyway? Is this a Seirlin lab?”
She couldn’t put a finger on what, precisely, made her think that—it’s not like there was a logo anywhere—but the way the equipment around her looked reminded her of what she’d seen on the few times she’s been in a Seirlin facility. Granted, the same could hold true for most labs she’d been in. It’s not like she knew enough to have laboratory style guides winging through her head.
But the place was more than just coincidentally familiar.
She narrowed her eyes, taking in every inch again with a suspicious indifference. Her frown deepened as her gaze came to rest on some older-than-usual equipment which had been tucked away to the back corner of one counter. She flicked her scrutiny back to the desk, once again noticing the older-model holoscreen projection embedded in its surface.
“Earth?” she guessed.
He nodded. “An exact replica of the Brazilian compound.”
She quirked a brow. “Replica? Are we in one of Sasha’s dimensional creations?”
“Not quite.” A slip of a smile pulled across Tylanus’ lips, and he glanced around with a wry spark to his eyes. “We’re actually inside me, you could say.”
That earned him a raised set of eyebrows—followed quickly by a frown as she digested his words.
“Program Tartarus?” she guessed. He’d said as much last time, revealing both his and his mother’s programs—she was Chaos. Karin frowned, following her encyclopedic factoid memory of the program myths. The pieces slowly cogging together, she glanced up at him sharply. “Tartarus is both a place and a person. The same with Chaos.”
His smile turned to her. “Yes, I take after my mother, that way.”
Okay, that explained Sasha’s ability to create dimensions, if ever something like that could be explained away. She’d thought as much when she’d first learned the scientist’s program name. But it was all a bit convoluted, especially when it came to precisely how that could work—how could he be both a place and a person? In the real world?
But Project Eurynome had kicked normal laws of reality to the curb long ago.
A small silence filled the space between them, which they both left for a moment. He dropped his gaze from hers, fidgeting with the metal instrument on the table, some kind of tweezers. At her back, she thought she detected motion beyond the glass of the windows, and her tension mounted again. She didn’t move, but kept half her attention on the windows at her back and the tan-colored wood door she could see in her periphery.
“Why am I here?” she said. “Why did you want to talk to me? Why were you so desperate to bring me here?”
Is this a trap?
The tension came back to his shoulders. It had never really left, but the change was noticeable.
Before he could speak, the door at the side of the lab opened without a sound.
She spun around, jerking at the smooth movement. Light crackled into her bones and skin, ready for a fight.
It wouldn’t do much against an actual person, nor would it do much if one of those monstrous reptile-void creatures with extendable scythe arms came rocking through the door after her, but the action was instinctual.
A young, black-haired woman poked her head through the opening, her hand clasped steadily on its edge.
Karin froze when she saw her face.
“Miki?”
She felt like she’d been punched. She watched the younger Nomiki slide into the room with a smooth movement and shut the door behind her, instantly recognizing the careful ease with which she moved—too perfect, too balanced, too in control. Like Tylanus, she wore a simple jeans and T-shirt combination. The black outline of a sports bra was visible beneath the white shirt, and the light played over the subtle, hard muscles of her arm as she strode forward.
Karin stumbled back. Her eyes snapped to Tylanus then back again. “What the fuck?”
Okay, as fucked up as it sounded, she’d seen him with dead children before. Hells, she’d had a series of dreams about dead children, so it wasn’t like they weren’t unexpected to her mind.
But this was her sister.
Nomiki wasn’t dead.
As if on cue, the door opened again, and her usual dead-child-conversation-partner stepped through. Layla, looking much the same as the eleven-year-old she’d last seen in Macedonia nine years ago, wore a tight-fitting pink tank top with spaghetti straps and a black bra visible underneath. Her frizzy dark hair formed a halo around her head, drooping down in waves closer to where it reached her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes caught the light as they flicked over the scene, taking in everything at a glance.
Karin could almost see the gears working in her head as Program Athena made her assessment and turned those eyes to her in a quiet regard. A slip of a smile upturned the corners of her mouth.
“She’s changed.”
Karin clenched her jaw, eyeing the child warily. She did not need Tylanus to know about her latest treatment plans. Even if he did already suspect them through her sheer ability to remain here.
Normally, her dream world would have gone tumbling away at this point.
Now, she felt in control of it. And she was determined to get some fucking answers.
Starting with the woman who looked like an exact replica of her sister.
She turned to her, fists clenching at her sides. “Who the fuck are you?”
The woman eyed the clenched fists, a lazy smile sliding onto her mouth as she brought her eyes up to meet Karin’s. Her head cocked, like a bird of prey, a cruel amusement lacing through her.
“What’s wrong, sister? Don’t you remember me?”
Karin stiffened. The whole world seemed to shudder to a halt, the air in the room pulling into a single place. Memories of the ruins crashed through her, the starlit sky of her first Shadow dream. The way Nomiki had been there, watching the space between the stars, a feral, anticipatory grin etched into her features as she held her knife, Karin’s light gleaming on the blade like drops of glowing blood. Her voice clashed in her mind, low and serious, a blending of memories speaking over each other.
Come on, Rin. Don’t you remember what we used to be?
“You,” Karin snarled, shoulders bunching. “It was you!”
She spun, turning to Tylanus, fingers forming claws at her sides. She advanced with a snarl, anger burning her lungs.
“What the fuck are you doing with them? Why are they here? What are you doing to them?”
“It wasn’t him,” Layla said. “He’s helping us.”
Her small voice pierced the anger like a splash of spring water. Karin stopped and looked at her. “What?”
“He allowed us out of the Cradle. As much as we can be, anyway.” Layla shrugged. “He didn’t have to do that.”
“He’s helping his mother take over the fucking universe. Pardon me if I remain a skeptic.”
Fury laced through her muscles, making her body shudder. It took a moment for her to work it back under her control, breaths eventually forming a semblance of tense calm. Tylanus watched her from the other side of the counter, his black gaze cool and even. She pinned him with a look, feeling the sharpness of her own gaze.
She stalked toward him. “Start talking.”
He backed up a step, eyes narrowing, and slipped away from her approach. She didn’t care. She’d vault the counter, grab his arms, and slam his face into its surface until he decided not to be so reticent.
She paused, a frown stopping her in her tracks.
Sol’s fucking child. When did I get so violent?
She’d killed before, sure. But these thoughts—they belonged more in her sister’s head than hers.
She glanced over at the younger Nomiki, confused.
Was there some weird telepathy shit going on?
> “He wanted your help,” Layla said, saving both Karin from her thoughts and Tylanus from an impending broken nose—Nomiki, the real Nomiki, had taught her enough to do that much, at least. “But he’s too stubborn and distrustful to ask for it.” Layla clicked her tongue. “Still can’t ask for help, can you? Even when she’s going to rip you apart.”
Rip him apart?
Something hard turned in Karin’s gut as Layla’s words hit home. She stared up at Tylanus, finally registering the distrust and betrayal on his face.
“What?” she asked.
His black eyes found hers. They seemed to seethe, but she thought it might only be a trick of the light, especially when he narrowed them and dropped his gaze.
“She…” He licked his lips and grimaced, arms crossing over his chest. “She’s changed since she managed to touch the Shadows. I think some of her programming is triggering, and not in a good way. I—” He bit off whatever he was going to say, giving his head a shake as his eyes squinted down. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“No, you definitely should be,” Layla said, her young voice soft. “You’ve helped us all these years. Let us help you.”
His jaw clenched, and one hand drifted up the side of his arm, making his shoulder scrunch up before he stopped the motion and rolled them both back, bringing himself into the stronger, more-proper pose she associated with him. He studied an instrument on the table, tension warring in his cheeks, and Karin saw him fighting silently to get his emotions in check. His eyes darted her way for an instant, glancing at her hands, then slid back to the set of test tubes that had caught focal point.
After another small breath, he began.
“She felt your control on Nova, too. I think it triggered something in her.” He hesitated, jaw clenching for a moment so that the ripple of muscle was visible under the skin. His throat bobbed, and he gave himself a little shake. “She keeps saying how the universe is wrong—how its very fabric is tainted such that she can feel it. That it’s wrong on a component level and needs to be fixed. Recreated. She said that before, but she’s intent now. Obsessed.”
“She wasn’t built for this world,” Layla told him, her small voice quiet, but strong, reaching a maturity that was reflected in the expression on her intelligent face and the keenness of her brown eyes. “She was meant to be a base for her own world. Of course it feels off.”
Karin pricked her attention toward Layla, the words hitting a little too close to what Tia had said in her dream.
Chaos was supposed to be a Cradle base. Is that what they’re talking about?
“I take it she hasn’t quite given up her take over the universe plan?” she said lightly, directing her attention back to Tylanus.
He flinched. “No.”
“But I stopped her on Nova. The Sirius System can replicate my light. It’s protected.”
Even before she finished, Layla was shaking her head. “No. Not wholly. It’s fallible.”
Fuck.
Sudden anger rolled through her. She reined in the snarl that threatened to roar through her expression at Tylanus, managing to turn it into a teeth-gritted sneer.
“What the fuck is she planning, exactly?” she ground out, the fury shaking through her muscles. She clenched a fist at her side, still struggling with it. “How in the ten hells can I stop her?”
His jaw clenched again, the muscles stiff and unmoving. Clamped. His fists, too, had tightened at his sides. His arms and shoulders were rigid lines.
“You are going to kill thirty billion people. Kill them,” she hissed. “And I don’t care what your so-called Mother says—they are real, living people. You will wipe them out in one fell fucking swoop.”
“No.” He shook his head, sweeping his gaze further from her. “Not one swoop.”
“Oh, so you’re planning to replace the universe in batches? Poke it full of holes?” she sneered. “Sol’s fucking children.”
“Yes. And we aren’t killing them. It’ll be like on Nova.”
Like Nova? She frowned.
Then, understanding dawned.
“Oh, so you’re just going to shunt them into the Shadow realm when you make space for your universe. Is that it?”
He nodded. “It’s the closest world.”
“Christ,” she said, reverting to her Old Earth swears. “And my powers won’t work against that?”
“No,” Layla said flatly.
Just as Tia had predicted. It was a good thing she was changing. If her light was no longer going to work, then she needed to tap into her latent Eurynome genes.
Still, it was frustrating to hear.
“Okay. Well—now that you’re finally giving me some damn answers—are you part of the hive mind? Is that how you’re here?”
Layla nodded, a smile slipping over her lips. “I was uploaded. Same as the rest of us, except him.” She nodded to Tylanus. “He connected his world with ours, so we can come and go.”
She twitched an eyebrow. “And that’s how I’ve been seeing you in my dreams?”
“No. We already had that connection. His connection simply allows us to interact with Tartarus.” Her lips thinned. “Think of it as one bubble stuck on another, but you and I—we’re the soap.”
Right.
“And Sasha’s still trying to end the universe as we know it…” Karin hissed a breath through her teeth. This time, when the rage came, a different emotion followed it up.
Fear. Desperation.
“Fuck,” she said, the word a savage, guttural syllable. She could feel it leave her body like a globule of spit. She ran a hand through her hair, fingernails scraping her scalp, and wrangled the emotions back under control. She turned to Tylanus, this time stalking him around the side of the counter, one hand coming up, a hostile finger stabbing in his direction. “Tell me what, exactly, she is doing. She’s going to push us all into the Shadow realm, like she tried on Nova?”
On there, during the Shift Events where parts of the planet would vanish under a splotch of darkness, people had vanished into a second world—a copy of the real one, except absolutely overrun with Shadows, and much, much darker, as if the system’s two suns never shone well on its surface.
Until she’d pulled one of them back up above the horizon.
Now, she wondered if that power had to do with her programming as Eos, the dawn goddess, or if her Eurynome genes had allowed that change in reality.
He remained quiet, unanswering, his gaze trained on the desk in a resigned, sullen stare.
And Layla’s soft words from earlier caught up with her again.
“Still can’t ask for help, can you? Even when she’s going to rip you apart.”
She dropped her tone, features softening, carefully watching his face.
Gods, we’re such a fucked up family.
“She’s going to rip the universe apart and build a new one, piece by piece,” he said, his words calm and even. His face looked dead. Not cold, but dead—devoid of emotion except for the slight tensing of his eyes. An edge of contempt curled his words. “She will eliminate every single being in this world and the next, erase them, and start anew. She will do it by ripping this world—my world—apart at its seams and reusing my parts like fucking Ymir.”
Karin’s jaw slackened. Ymir was the cosmogenic deity from Norse legends. The stories held that he was killed by Odin and two others, and his blood and body parts were then used to make up the world.
By the way Tylanus said it, and the tightening of his tendons as he held the pads of his fingers on the counter, it sounded like the process would be about as painful as it sounded.
“Wow. Sounds like a great time to get the fuck away from her.” Karin sucked in a breath, his words knocking all her former anger down. She ran a limp hand through her hair, sputtering. “What the fuck. Can she even do that?”
“She can,” Layla said. “And she will. Unless you stop her.”
“We’re working on it,” she hissed through her teeth, hesitating
as she turned, her attention shifting between Tylanus and Layla, passing over Nomiki’s silent form.
Shit.
“We’ve got a lead on something,” she said cautiously, not wanting to show her hand. “Delay her as much as you can. We’re kind of in a shitstorm right now, but we’re working as hard as we can.”
On a whim, she lunged forward. Tylanus snapped his attention up at her sudden movement, but she was too fast. Her hand brushed down on his arm, fingers wrapping around the back of his hand, comforting. His startled black eyes met hers.
“Hold on,” she repeated. “We’ll come to you. I’ll get you out of this.”
On the tail end of her words, she called on her new power. As it crackled through her, the scene began to slip together like water, blackness fading into the sides like a movie vignette.
In the next second, she was in her bunk, and her hand was gripping nothing.
She jerked awake, heels hitting the wall with a thump. Cool air touched her face. For a second, she couldn’t figure out where she was—images and sensations floated around her, disjointed. As if half of her were in a different world.
Which, given the dream, was likely at this point.
But, slowly, the surfaces of her room resolved around her. The gunmetal walls, the hard edge of the bunk’s frame, the familiar annoyance of her bare leg poking out from under a blanket. The red glow of numbers illuminated the planes of her locker and the wall at the back, telling her she’d been asleep for six hours.
Sleep closed back in on her eyes. She groaned and turned over, trying to kick her blanket back into place over her foot.
That’s when she noticed the Shadow standing in the corner of the room. On the other side of the locker.
Ice shot into her blood. She bolted up, her breath sucking in as she scrambled back. Pain smacked into her right elbow as she hit the wall. Her left foot found the end of the bunk.
In the next second, she was upright, bare feet slapping on the floor as she scuttled into the front corner of the room—as far as she could get from the Shadow without activating the door panel and leaving.
It didn’t move. Its stare bored into her. She could feel its attention pull through her, as if it could see straight through her skin.
