“Lovely,” said Marley. “What does a promotion mean?”
He sat down. “Not much. I got access to this place, and to the Repository. Some people answered some questions when they might previously have told me to go away. I don't normally have much status, as the junior auxiliary member of the kaiju hunters... Anyhow, Ettoriel’s doing some weird stuff. He shouldn’t need children for what Zachariah claimed he was trying to do. But I don’t think he’s doing that anyhow. All the database remarks about Ettoriel say he's... decent. Subtle. Not our friend, but not genocidal either.”
“What’s he supposedly trying to do, again?” Marley knew he’d mentioned it, but somehow it had gotten lost in the flurry of new information. “Destroying my friend isn't decent,” she added.
“I know,” said Corbin. “It's desperate. Zachariah said he wants to destroy the Hush. Break down the wall we built so that the angels and demons and kaiju couldn’t directly control human events anymore. They try it sometimes, but Ettoriel has never been involved before.”
“What were you trying to protect from him?”
“You mean before you and the kids?” He sighed. “A ritual artifact called the Ragged Blade. Profoundly useful for cutting directly through lines of the Geometry. And, of course, for killing people.”
“A Machine Blade?”
“No. Something created by a human wizard, long ago. Ugly thing. There's a story that it could cut a victim right out of the world, in the proper circumstances.”
He yawned, and then yawned again, wider this time. “Look, you’ve got a lot to think about. And look at. Play with the Sight some. I haven’t had enough sleep for a week, so I’m just going to stretch out here for a few minutes. And then I’ll explain to you about the Geometry and the Hush and magic. Make a list of questions, if you want.” His eyes closed as his head touched the bedspread-covered pillow.
Then one eye opened. “Order something from room service when you’re hungry. Don’t go outside. I’ll wake up if anything happens. But nothing should. A whole lot of nothing, at least for a day...” His eye closed again.
-nineteen-
Room service didn’t knock on the door. Instead, the front desk called her and told her there was a cart outside her room, to be collected at her leisure. As she hauled the cart in, she saw a figure at the far end of the hall, unlocking another room. He had the nodes and the halo of a nephil, although his halo was dim, and he paid no attention to her. She saw another figure from the window, without a halo, but with each of his nodes infused with a complicated, shifting light. He got into a car and drove away, and she realized later that she couldn’t remember anything about him except the richness of the circles of light. That was when she decided maybe she should experiment with turning the Sight off and on.
As she and the kids ate, she poked at the Lullaby Plaything. The pieces all clumped together as if magnetized, but it wasn't in the delicate, engaging construction it had previously been. Instead, it was just a vaguely spherical chunk of components, like all the pieces had been mashed together. Marley tried to pull a rod out, but it resisted her, shifting in her hand as the clump tightened. It reminded her of Neath when the cat didn't want to wake up, and she put it back on the table. If it was a heavenly Machine, that might make it practically alive. Perhaps Lissa was right and it was only resting. She hoped for Corbin's sake that was true, even if it hadn't been very useful to them.
Later, as Corbin continued to sleep, she took a shower. While the smoke from the fires hadn’t started making it hard for her to breathe yet, the endless haze seemed to have permeated her skin. She felt like she hadn’t been clean in weeks. While scrubbing, she discovered that the wound on her arm was almost entirely healed. That changed the experience a bit.
She came out of the bathroom, combing her hair and trying to convince herself to let Corbin link her catastrophe vision to the Sight, to discover the twins arguing about something. They stood in a puddle of blanket, Kari grasping Lissa’s hand with both of hers and speaking rapidly; Lissa looked furious. They both looked up guiltily, and Kari fell silent. She pulled away from Lissa and went to stare out the polarized window.
“What’s going on?” asked Marley. She tried to sound casual, but the suppressed vision trembled like a captured bird. Yes, so noted, disaster lurks, she thought to it sourly.
“Does the lawyer man know where Uncle Zach is?” Lissa asked. “The one from the park. He said he did.”
Marley paused mid-comb, struck by the question. “I suppose he might.”
Lissa persisted, “Or is he gone like our mommy? And your mommy?”
Marley’s fingers clenched on the comb, the sharpness sweet next to the pang inside. “No. He’ll be back again, I’m certain of it. It just may take a while.”
“And then he’ll make it all better.” It was a statement from Kari, not a question. Lissa turned to stare at Kari’s back.
Marley hesitated and then crossed to stand beside the little girl. “What do you think he’d say right now?”
Kari’s face screwed up, and in a grumbly voice, she said, “We’re not gonna run from them. We’re going to make them run from us.”
Marley put her hand on Kari’s head gently, and wondered if that attitude was why Zachariah was missing. “I prefer the term ‘tactical maneuvering’.”
“Tactile grooving, right. That means we’re gonna go—hey, it’s that guy.” Kari pointed out the window at the parking lot.
It took a moment to spot him among the cars in lot, especially since she didn’t know which “guy” Kari was talking about. It turned out to be the enormous man from outside Penny’s house, the one Corbin called Absolven. He didn’t have a gun this time, but was otherwise unchanged. Penny had described him as a “Hercules,” and the description seemed to fit; there was something of the classical Greek god to him. He was walking among the cars in the parking lot, looking at them carefully.
Marley moved Kari away from the window. Corbin was still stretched out on top of the bedspread, fast asleep. He’d only moved enough to fling his arm over his eyes. She touched his shoulder gently. “Corbin, wake up.”
He shifted slightly, and she stepped away in case he was a violent waker. But when he lifted his arm, his eyes were already open and clear. “What’s going on?”
“Absolven is outside. He’s looking at the cars in the parking lot.”
Brow furrowed, Corbin glanced at the bedside alarm clock. “I slept too long.”
“You said we had a day! I mean, God knows, somebody should get some sleep around here.”
He rose to his feet and brushed past her to look out the window. “The protection against finding you here via magic delays a celestial by about a day. Absolven probably just used logic. Hell, he’s probably used this place himself in the past.” He leaned on the glass, squinting. “You might as well come over here. We can make this an educational experience.”
“He’s not going to look up, see us, and shoot us? He had a gun earlier.”
“Such a modern girl. Absolven wouldn’t dream of killing somebody he couldn’t look in the eye. C’mere. Activate the Sight and look at him.”
Marley gave the twins a sharp look as she joined Corbin. “You two stay away.”
“All right. So you’ve noticed the lines and nodes? We call the lines the Geometry. Nodes are formed when lines join up; the more nodes something has, the more sentient it is, up to seven nodes or so. The old idea of chakras comes from this. Those who know how can open up a few more. Enchantments of various sorts can be tied to a node. The usual sort are semi-permanent enhancements we call charms. The Sight is a charm, the most basic there is. Most people in the supernatural scene, mortal and otherwise, have it. Other charms provide other enhancements.”
“Where do they come from?” Despite her rising anxiety, she tried to study the man moving around below. His seven circles each radiated a different color.
“They’re either constructed by Geometry manipulations, which are best done in a con
trolled ritual environment, or they spark from an object a celestial has prepared—relics and talismans and that sort of thing. He has the Sight in his highest circle, which is normal. And in the second circle... You can see how the golden flare has a shape within it, the beak and claw and wings?” She could see more than that: the complete image of a restless griffin, lion’s tail lashing. Corbin went on quickly, “That’s a glamour. Absolven isn’t actually human in his natural shape, but faerie glamours are so good they convince the inanimate world as well as mortals. I wonder what he traded for that...”
“You said something about that before. Fairies as well as angels and demons?” Marley shook her head. “Are there werewolves and vampires, too?”
The expression on Corbin’s face was neutral. “Monster stories have their source.” He hesitated. “Look, in the end, there are only celestials and mortals and us. The Fallen behave in a number of ways, based on what they believe about their Creator. Those beliefs reshape them, but they're all variations on the same basic template: spirit, numina, avatar. It all adds up to trouble.”
“How does this stuff not make it onto the six o’clock news?” She watched Absolven vanish behind a large van, her pulse picking up as soon as he was out of sight.
“The Hush. And its prototype, the faerie Covenant. Anyhow, Absolven’s other charms are all angelic blessings, save the glamour and another one. That one...” He frowned, as if concentrating.
Marley remembered her reflection. “I have two, I saw. You gave me the Sight—and without a ritual environment? But what’s the other one?”
“I just duplicated what I had, rather than custom-building something for you. And yeah, I noticed that. I meant to investigate.” He transferred his gaze to her and brushed his hand over the top of her head, barely touching her. Then his fingers twitched, tangling lightly in her hair. She shivered.
His gaze refocused on her face, his fingers sliding down to her temple and brushing her cheek. Then he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. “It’s a celestial beacon, I think. Maybe from Ettoriel, to aid in tracking you? Have you touched anything he might have blessed?”
“What? Something from him? Lawyer Jeremy’s business card, maybe?” Marley rubbed at her arms, and then brushed at her forehead, as if she could wipe the thing away. “Can you get rid of it? That sounds really bad.”
“Not here and now, no. You can’t just casually remove other people’s charms and enchantments.” He coughed. “Well, I can’t. There are those who can.”
“Who? Can’t we find them?” Panic was rising in Marley and she suddenly saw no reason to stop it. A beacon? On herself, not a bag she could lose somewhere, not a hat, not a physical item at all. Somebody had reached out and put a marker on her soul and there was no way she could remove it. A moment ago, the concept of magic had seemed fascinating and alluring, even in the midst of danger. But now she felt violated. Now she wanted nothing to do with it.
“I’ll look into it,” he said, in a soothing voice. “It’ll be okay. We’ll just keep moving once we get out of here. Ettoriel can't keep up this kind of effort forever.”
“But it’s already done its job! His hunter is out there and we’re stuck in here.” She turned back to the window, scanning the parking lot frantically for the glamoured nephil.
“Oh, I’ve escaped him more than once before. I’m not expecting much challenge if we're just trying to esca—” He blanched suddenly and turned to look out the window. Marley heard the hysterical cawing before Absolven stepped around a large truck. This time, he was holding a raven with one wing bent at an awful angle. Carefully, he put the bird on the hood of the truck. It fell over helplessly, pecking at its legs, and Marley realized they were bound together.
“That bastard,” Corbin whispered. “That last charm... it makes him invisible to birds. They never had a chance to get away.” Absolven vanished around to the back of the truck again, and returned with another crippled, bound bird.
Corbin wrenched open the sliding glass doors next to the window. “Corbin, what are you doing?” Marley whispered. The catastrophe vision twisted and churned, fighting against her suppression, desperate to show her something dreadful.
“I have to save them. They’re my friends. He’s hurting them, but I can fix it if I get them away from him.”
“Corbin, it’s a trap. He’s trying to lure you out.” It didn’t take foresight to figure that out.
His breath huffed out. “I think it requires some subtlety to be a trap. The right word is ‘challenge.’ What an absolute bastard.” Then his teeth flashed. “I was going to have to send him off anyhow. Don’t worry. A flock of ravens can chase off an eagle.” He stepped out onto the balcony and then, unbelievably, hoisted himself over the railing and dropped, three stories.
-twenty-
Marley ran to the railing despite herself, just in time to see Corbin rolling to his feet. He limped into the parking lot and ducked behind an SUV. Absolven was still standing near the crippled birds, eyes raised to scan the hotel. Nobody else was outside. Smoke had rolled down the slopes of the mountain while Marley was distracted, and now the haze in the parking lot made distant cars faded and unreal.
She glanced inside, where the children had come to the door, Kari holding a floppy Neath. Then she closed the glass door on them, so the smoke wasn’t drifting inside. It scratched her throat when she breathed, and she hoped it was better down on the ground.
She grimaced. Who was she kidding? It didn’t matter if the smoke was better on the ground; Absolven was going to catch Corbin and end him. She opened the door again and dashed back inside, slamming it shut behind her. She grabbed the phone off the nightstand and dialed the front desk. This was a hotel run for supernatural types; surely somebody could do something to help Corbin. But the phone rang and rang, until finally a voicemail message picked up and apologetically told her that they’d call her back just as soon as possible.
Could she find somebody else? Another guest of the hotel? How would she convince them that helping Corbin was worth their time? She ran to the window again. Corbin was not visible, but Absolven was strolling east across the lot. His shape flickered, and Marley could suddenly see the griffin underneath the glamour. It was larger than she’d imagined, far bigger than either a lion or an eagle. It looked like it could eat lions for breakfast. Cars seemed to cringe away from his wingspan and each footfall should have made the ground shiver. She remembered: Once, the nephilim were called giants.
If anybody was going to help Corbin, it had to be her. She knew the catastrophe vision wasn’t fixed in stone. Maybe she could go down there and distract that thing while Corbin attacked it. Or maybe she could be on hand to provide first aid until some kind of emergency services could arrive. That could make a difference, right? The voice of reason in the back of her head pointed out that the tiny first-aid kit, combined with her own rudimentary skills, might save a choking person but wouldn’t be much use with disembowelment, which is what those rasping claws looked good at. And what would stop the griffin from eating her if Corbin was disemboweled? How well had she protected herself so far?
She ignored the voice. Doing something was better than doing nothing. Doing anything was better than gnawing off her own hand in helpless fear.
But the dry voice continued: And what about the children? Corbin said to not leave the room.
Corbin is an idiot who went into a clear trap. To save a friend? Like you’re doing? She hated that the voice was her own.
She stopped and looked at the children. Were they still safe? She slipped the leash on her foresight.
And her first instinct was Take them with me. They will be safe. No matter what happens out there, they’ll be safe if they’re with me.
But she looked closer and saw them coming unbound. A maelstrom of fire was contained within their shapes, leaking from their linked hands, and the boundaries that kept them human were fraying. Was this the future or the present? After seeing the angel inside of Penny, she was
no longer sure.
“Marley? Why are you looking at us?” Lissa asked.
“I'm worrying about what to do next,” she said.
The cry of an eagle mixed with the yowl of a cat cut through her thoughts. Neath came alert and quivering, claws digging into Lissa’s arms until she yelped and let go of the kitten. Marley looked out the window in time to see Corbin running through the parking lot, Absolven loping after him. Corbin scattered something behind him that sparked as Absolven moved over it. He shrieked and leapt to one side, his paw smashing down into the pavement, eagle wings catching the pale smoke and shoving it forward. Corbin stumbled, and staggered to one side before vanishing behind another car.
Opening the single duffel bag she’d brought up, Marley fumbled for the pathetic first-aid kit she’d packed. She ran into the bathroom to gather up some towels, and noticed something unusual on the wall: This hotel room came with its own first-aid kit, and it was a lot more impressive than hers. She wrenched it off the wall, barely noticing how easily she tore it away from its bolts.
“We’re going downstairs to help Corbin,” she announced to the kids. She remembered a fire exit a few doors down. That was good, a useful thought, because she wasn’t jumping over the balcony. She was crazy, not suicidal.
Kari brightened. “Fight the bad guy?”
“Save Corbin,” she corrected. “You two stay very close to me. But if I say run, you run, and if anybody tries to hurt you, you do whatever you can to them, you hear? Anything you can.” She strode to the door, towels bundled around the box from the bathroom.
A hero’s death is not an option now, little fool, whispered a voice, sliding into her mind like a scalpel. It was familiar, but it wasn't hers. Stay. Don’t be too stupid to live. It was the voice she’d heard on the highway, as she passed a roadside scene, the voice from something that had looked like a paper shell of a man inhabited by a monster. She looked around wildly.
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