‘I know everything,’ I said to him. ‘I know your real name. I know who you are, and what you did.’
Daddy ignored me. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured. ‘It’s all my fault. The pain I put you through.’
I turned my face away from him. I didn’t want to hear his lies. I knew nothing he said could be trusted.
‘I thought I was helping you,’ Daddy continued. ‘I thought I knew what was best. I thought you needed to leave Ruby behind, and become Heracleitus. I was foolish. Arrogant.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daddy sink slowly to his knees. He lifted one hand and clasped the red stone he wore around his neck.
‘I should have realised. Ruby. Ruby. It was a sign. The divine spark. The burning crimson gem. I wasn’t listening to you. You tried to tell me who you were from the beginning. That’s why you were confused, why you disobeyed me. It was because you were trying to reassert your true actuality.’
Daddy laid his palms on the concrete floor.
‘I elutriate myself before you, Scintilla,’ he said. ‘I am your servant, awaiting instruction.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ I said.
Daddy closed his eyes and bowed his head low. ‘You’re angry with me. I understand.’
Scrapingly, he withdrew and stood up, backing towards the door. ‘I’ll have everything readied,’ he said. ‘For your ascension. You’ll see.’
‘Let me see her,’ I said between gritted teeth. ‘Let me speak to my mother.’
The gentle, concerned expression I knew so well arranged itself carefully on Daddy’s features. Once I had been fooled by it. No longer.
‘The Scintilla has no mother or father,’ he said. ‘You are born from elements both cardinal and sovereign. You are the divine spark that heralds a new dawn. But if you are referring to the sublimate who brought forth the meat casing you currently inhabit – you can most certainly have an audience with her.’
Daddy bowed low to me again, his eyes flashing up to meet mine with a mocking smile. He left the room, but came back a few minutes later with Mum, who had changed into a white Institute tunic. She looked nervous and excited, like a child lining up to meet Santa.
‘I’ll leave you two alone.’ Daddy slipped out, closing the door behind him.
‘Mum,’ I said, stepping forward and grabbing both her hands. ‘I know how this all seems. But it’s all lies. Daddy isn’t who he says he is. His name is really Glen Ardeer. He used to be a research scientist but he got fired for being a lunatic.’
A thought flickered at the edge of my consciousness, but I brushed it aside. I had to get through to her.
‘Do you still have the card of the policewoman who came to our house? Go outside. Get in the car. Go home and call her. Tell her everything. Tell her where I am. You have to do this.’
Mum tugged a hand free and reached up to brush my cheek. ‘Thank you for choosing her,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for choosing my daughter as your vessel. I— I lost one child. It was senseless. Pointless. His death was utterly without meaning. But for Ruby – her life now has the ultimate purpose. The ultimate sacrifice.’
My toes went cold. ‘What do you mean, sacrifice?’
A tear rolled down Mum’s cheek. ‘When you take full possession of her on Sunday, I will not mourn her. I will know that her actuality, her sublime body, flies free with yours, up into the stars.’
‘Sunday? What’s going to happen on Sunday?’
Mum smiled. ‘Hasn’t Daddy told you? Sunday is when it all begins. The final technic. When the spark becomes a flame, and we will all be united in elutriation. The Boundless Family.’
I did not like the sound of that. Not one bit.
I tried to make her listen, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Eventually she left, and I tried to puzzle it all out. Why had Daddy chosen me to be the Scintilla? Was it because I knew too much? Because I’d guessed what he’d done to Maggie, and to Fox? He was wanted by the police.
I suddenly remembered the first time I’d called Mum from the Institute. How she’d mentioned that she’d been to the police. Daddy had been worried. He’d told me to convince Mum to stop talking to them. Was that where all this had started? Was that when he had gone after Mum? To protect himself?
If I was right, he had planned this for a long time. But what now? He couldn’t keep me locked up in here forever.
My obsessive googling had taught me that cults usually didn’t end well. Mass suicides. Fatal conflicts with law enforcement. I remembered Daddy making Val drink the vial of liquid that he told us was poison. Was that what he was planning? Was that how he would make us sublime? By forcing us to literally cast off our flesh-bodies?
I shuddered.
The door opened again, and Daddy entered, his face flashing with annoyance when he saw the pile of fabric still untouched on the floor.
‘You must prepare,’ he told me. ‘There is a technic that you will preside over. The others are gathering as we speak.’
I laughed at him. ‘Not a chance.’
Daddy’s mouth quirked. ‘You struggle against your actuality,’ he said. ‘But you will obey.’
‘I won’t.’
Daddy laced his fingers together and smiled his mild, calm smile. ‘You will do it,’ he said. ‘And if you don’t, I will kill your mother.’
It was no idle threat. He had killed Fox, and Maggie, and who knew who else.
‘Change your clothes,’ he said. ‘Val will be along to escort you to the ceremony in ten minutes.’
A bonfire had been built in the courtyard, from bits of lumber and furniture scavenged from around the Institute. Some of the wood was clearly treated with chemicals, as it was letting off a thick black smoke. The other Institute members were gathered around the fire. On Daddy’s stage were three chairs. Daddy sat in the middle one. To his left sat my mother, who stared into the fire as if hypnotised. Val led me to the third chair, to the right of Daddy. A large silver bowl was placed on the corner of the stage near the fire, full of something clear and glistening.
Daddy inclined his head towards me in a mockery of respect. Then he reached out and took Mum’s hand, his eyes never leaving mine.
I ground my teeth, and sat down. Daddy stood and spread his arms wide, addressing the crowd.
‘Did I ever tell you about Heracleitus’s namesake, the philosopher and alchemist?’ Daddy asked. ‘He lived in Ephesus, about two and a half thousand years ago. I knew him well. I stayed with his family for a time, and we would stroll together in olive groves, and play knucklebones with the local youths in the temple of Artemis.’
I glanced over at Mum. She was still staring into the fire.
‘They called him the Weeping Philosopher,’ Daddy went on, ‘because he chose not to comfort himself with the usual falsehoods that toxicants tell themselves. He yearned for truth. He believed that there are two kinds of people: those who are asleep, and those who are awake. The sleeping people – the toxicants – each inhabit their own individual world of lies and ignorance. But the waking inhabit the one Cosmos, a world not made by gods or men, but by ever-living fire.’
The bonfire crackled and spat dramatically, and I saw eyes widen in the crowd.
‘Fire, for Heracleitus, was the most fundamental element. He believed that all the other elements – every single speck of the universe – were born of fire. The human soul – the actuality – he told me, is made of fire and water. The water douses the burning purity of the actuality. Temptations of the flesh and other worldly pleasures make the actuality moist. It is only the dry actuality that can ascend to new levels of avocation.’
Daddy plunged both hands into the silver bowl of translucent gel on the stage. Then he straightened up, and carefully passed his hands through the fire. As he withdrew them and raised them again, I heard sharp intakes of breath from the crowd. Blue flames curled and licked around his fingers. Daddy smiled, not flinching for a second. I remembered him grabbing Maggie’s knife, his blood dripping down his wrist
s. After a moment, he rubbed his hands together, extinguishing the flames. He held his hands up before us, wiggling his fingers to show he wasn’t hurt. It was a cheap party trick, but the Institute members appeared spellbound.
‘It is fitting that today we honour the memory of the great philosopher and alchemist Heracleitus, as well as our own dear Heracleitus, as she transforms into the Scintilla. Heracleitus’s dry actuality – her sublime body – has operated as kindling, coaxing the Scintilla to life, and letting its fire spread to us all, lifting us up to the Boundless Sublime.’
He gestured to me, and I stood up. Daddy had given me my instructions earlier, and I took my position in front of the bonfire, the heat of it making the heavy red robes stick to my skin.
One by one, the other members of the Institute approached me, each one holding a bowl or a plastic tub full of food.
‘Now that the Scintilla walks among us, we will all be sublime,’ Daddy proclaimed. ‘You no longer need food and drink, as you will no longer hunger or thirst. You will not require sleep. You will not fall ill. All impairments to your hearing and vision will vanish.’
The fact that he was saying this while wearing his wire-rimmed glasses didn’t seem to trouble any of the enraptured Institute members.
‘This is an elutriating technic. It will rid you of every last trace of the aphotic in your actuality. Of lead and water. It will release you from the meat cage of your body, and allow you to float free and boundless.’
Newton was first in line, holding a large tub of lentils. With shining eyes, she dumped them onto the fire, and stepped forward, bowing her head to me. I dipped a finger into the silver bowl. The gel inside was cold, and smelled familiar.
‘With the application of pure aether,’ said Daddy, ‘the Scintilla will draw the last drops of moisture from you, and you will be left sublime.’
It wasn’t pure aether. I was pretty sure it was hand sanitiser. I drew my finger across her forehead. The cool gel immediately evaporated on her skin. A look of pure joy passed over Newton’s face, and I wanted to scream in frustration.
One by one, each member of the Institute came forward and cast food onto the fire, then bowed before me and accepted my blessing. I tried to make eye contact with each one, hoping to see a spark of rebellion, a glimmer of doubt. But nobody would meet my gaze. Their expressions were humbled, awed. They believed it all. They believed Daddy. And why wouldn’t they? I had.
I blessed every member of the Institute except for the Monkeys, who were nowhere to be seen. Apparently they didn’t get to be sublime. I wondered what they were going to have for dinner, now all the food was destroyed.
I let Val escort me back to my cell. Once we were alone, I spun around and grabbed him by the arm.
‘Let me go,’ I said. ‘You have to. You did it before.’
Val didn’t even look at me.
‘Val. Please. I think he’s going to kill me.’
Val blinked slowly and turned his eyes down. ‘You promised.’ His voice was rumbling deep, and he spoke with a faint lisp.
I let my hand drop. I had. I’d promised. I’d promised to help the Monkeys, but I’d done nothing. I’d made things worse. Now they had no food, and something terrible was coming.
Val pushed me back into the little dark room, and closed the door behind me.
Hours passed, and nobody came. I went all over the room, searching for some means of escape. But there was nothing. I’d be stuck in here until someone came to let me out. I had to convince them. I still didn’t know what Mum had been talking about – the Boundless Family – but it sounded bad. It sounded like I wasn’t going to make it out alive. I realised with a searing shock that I really, really wanted to be alive. I’d spent over a year walking around in a fog of grief and confusion. The people I loved most had all left me – Anton, my parents, Fox. But I still wanted to be alive. I wanted to breathe fresh air and visit the ducks in the park and tell them about Fox. I wanted to read Les Miserables and eat chocolate and play my piano. I wanted to live.
I heard the clunk of a turning bolt in the door, and Lib shuffled in, holding a glass of sulphurous water.
‘I thought you might be thirsty,’ she said, her voice low.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Really? I thought none of us ate or drank anymore.’
Lib held out the glass, and the surface of the water trembled. I took it, and drank, ignoring the wave of nausea and memory that hit when I tasted the eggy sulphur.
I didn’t trust her. ‘Does he know you’re here?’
‘He’s in the Sanctum. With Ash. He won’t be out for a while.’
My stomach turned over. ‘You disgust me,’ I said. ‘Going along with his bullshit. You know I’m not some magic crystal fairy. You know I’m being held here against my will.’
Lib’s eyes met mine, and I knew I was right.
‘My mother,’ I said. ‘How long?’
Lib took a breath. ‘A while,’ she admitted. ‘Daddy leaves the Institute sometimes, during the day, or after Family Time. He goes to the Red House, or to fast food restaurants. He likes cheeseburgers.’
I felt a wave of loathing rise in me.
‘Your mother first came here when you were at the casino. But she already knew Daddy. He had been going to see her for some time. I think since you and Fox …’ She trailed off.
I’d been right, then. He’d been planning this for months. He knew I was going to leave. He never trusted me. Not after what happened with Fox.
I handed the glass back to Lib. ‘Help me get out of here.’
Lib hesitated, then ducked her head. ‘It’ll be quiet tomorrow,’ she murmured, not meeting my gaze. ‘It’s election day. Daddy is sending everyone to hand out water at the polling places. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked.’
Election day? That meant the next day was a Saturday. Mum had said the Boundless Family would happen on Sunday. But why did Daddy want everyone out of the Institute? Did he have to prepare something, and he didn’t want anyone to see?
Lib’s hands were shaking and her eyes kept darting around, as if she was sure we were being spied on.
‘You— you have to help him. Help him get out.’
‘Him? Him who?’ Did she mean Daddy?
A small, choking sob escaped Lib’s throat. ‘Fox,’ she whispered.
I felt blanched white with shock. Fox was dead. Like Anton. Cold and dead and gone. Extinguished.
‘Daddy has him locked in his laboratory,’ said Lib. ‘In C Block, next to the Monkey House.’
My ears buzzed and my vision blurred for a moment. Had I heard correctly? I grabbed Lib by the arm, digging my fingers into her thin flesh so that she gasped out loud.
‘Fox is alive?’ My heart was beating so hard and fast it was making my teeth chatter.
She swallowed a few times to try to calm herself. I’d never seen anyone so consumed by terror.
It had been weeks, weeks, since I’d seen Fox. Had he been locked up this whole time? I remembered my own incarceration, how easily the pieces of myself had been stripped away. How eagerly I’d grasped Daddy when he came to rescue me. How easily my spirit had been broken.
‘Lib, why are you telling me this?’
Lib closed her eyes, and pain flashed across her face.
I stared at her, and things started to fall into place. I remembered Pippa standing up and following Daddy to the Sanctum after Family Time. I remembered how plump she looked in her sparkly top at the casino. I remembered her desperate eyes as I squeezed the handles of the boltcutters, and severed her finger. I remembered her fingers fluttering nervously over her belly.
‘Fox is yours. Your son.’
Lib nodded.
‘The Monkeys,’ I said. ‘Are they all Daddy’s?’
Lib bit her lip. ‘Not all. Sometimes women come to us with small children, or already pregnant. But … most of them are his.’
Fox’s parents weren’t dead at all. All that time Fox had spent longing for his mother, she was right
there, sitting next to him at Family Time, handing out his supplements.
‘All this time,’ I said. ‘All this time you let him believe he was an orphan. You watched Daddy hurt him. You let him be locked away in a cell and tortured …’
Tears welled in Lib’s eyes.
‘How could you do it?’
Lib gave a great shuddering sigh. ‘When I met Daddy, I was broken. My life had been a string of men who wanted to use my body and cast me aside. But when I met him … Well, you know how it is.’
I did know how it was. I knew how powerful Daddy could be.
‘I didn’t expect to fall pregnant … I mean, obviously Daddy and I were …’ Lib waved a hand. ‘But it didn’t feel sexual. It was part of the technic. A ritual. I never imagined it could produce a baby.’
She grasped her hands together, knuckles white.
‘Things were different back then – it was eighteen years ago. Stan inherited the Red House from an aunt and we all moved in, like a real family. I gave birth there, surrounded by the others, with Daddy holding my hand. It felt so pure and perfect, bringing an innocent, uncontaminated life into the world.’
The faintest smile passed across Lib’s face, and my heart broke a little for that hopeful, deluded young woman. The smile quickly faded, and her voice shuddered as she continued.
‘After he was born, Daddy told me …’ She paused and took a gulping breath. ‘He told me that my bond with the baby was just a flesh urge. Like sexual desire. If I gave in to it, I’d be giving in to my body, and I’d never be sublime. He said I had to be separated from the baby. He didn’t let me give him a name. He didn’t let me breastfeed. He gave the baby to one of the other women to look after. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and listen to him cry, and I’d sob and sob, my breasts leaking milk everywhere. It was proof that Daddy was right. I didn’t have control over my body. I resented the baby for taking me over so completely. I stopped trying to see him. I stopped thinking about him. Instead I thought about Daddy. Everything became about Daddy.’
The Boundless Sublime Page 27
