by Isaac Hooke
Jeremy could only stare. "You're not supposed to be here."
The hooded figure said nothing, and instead lifted a malformed hand.
Though no lightning shot from that palm, Jeremy was sent sprawling across the floor. The Box tumbled from his grasp.
The hooded figure advanced. The Monitors backed away, flattening against the walls, giving "One" a wide berth. Each step the figure took resounded loudly, and the marble cracked underneath as if those feet bore the weight of a mountain. Electricity continued to spark from its hands—menacing, threatening.
Jeremy scrambled backward, trying to get up, but he kept slipping on the marble floor, his limbs weak not from any physical injury, but from the terror the mere sight of the newcomer instilled.
The darkness in the room deepened as One grew near, and the wall sconces dimmed. The figure lifted its hand again, and twisted those fingers counterclockwise. Jeremy was hoisted into the air by invisible arms, and rotated like a pinwheel so that his head pointed straight down. All the blood rushed to his head. It felt like his skull was going to burst.
And then a surge of electricity spilled from One's palm.
Jeremy shook in place as his body was electrocuted. The smell of burnt hair and charred flesh filled his nostrils. It felt like not only his head must burst, but his entire body. He waited for his insides to smear across the floor, ceiling, and walls, wondering how much of it he'd see, if any.
Not the way he'd imagined his end. Not the way at all.
And then the electricity ceased.
Still suspended in midair, Jeremy slumped. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved, or doomed.
"Where is the New User outpost?" One's voice sounded an otherworldly baritone, too low for any man.
Jeremy stuttered. "I— I don't know." His own voice sounded high-pitched, feminine.
The figure spun its hand, and Jeremy floated right-side up again. The bronze bitch around Jeremy's throat tightened. He kicked his legs, and clawed at his neck, choking.
"Where is Seven?" the robed figure said.
"The Dwarf?" Jeremy said, wheezing. "Why... do you... care?"
Abruptly the collar loosened and Jeremy fell to the floor. His face was melting.
The robed figure stood motionless for a long moment. Then its form flickered.
The number vanished from the robe. Those hands appeared normal now, with four fingers and a thumb.
The figure raised its arms and lowered its hood—
Revealing the Other Jeremy.
"Damn sleepwalking," the Other Jeremy said. "Happening more and more often these days. So, what did I miss?" The Other Jeremy scanned the room, taking in all the details, finally stopping on the first Jeremy, who yet lay prostrate before him. "Well hello. And who might you be?" The Other Jeremy came to his side and knelt. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue? Did you know, in certain cities to the east, liars and thieves have their tongues ripped out and fed to the mayor's cats? That's the origin of the saying, cat got your tongue."
The Other Jeremy reached down, and scraped the remnants of Jeremy's face away. He held the mask up in his hands, melted as it was by the electricity, and the white substance oozed between his fingers. "You have the ability to change yourself into a gol, and yet you have to resort to something as primitive as the White Poultice to change your face? Fascinating!" He flicked his hand, and the white goo spattered the floor.
"Ah, dearest, did you really think you'd get away with this?" The Other Jeremy, the real Jeremy, rested that sticky hand on her face. "It was an ingenious little plan though, I'll give you that. Dressing up as me, and planning your heist during my scheduled meal time, since you know how I hate to be disturbed when I'm eating. But did you really think the Control Room is the only way I have to keep tabs on my household? I must thank you for coming into my grasp once again, however. You've just made everything a whole lot easier."
Ari merely looked at him. She couldn't talk. She felt utterly exhausted and defeated. The impersonation had been draining, but it was the electrocution that had finished her off.
"Well then, let's proceed with your termination, shall we?" Jeremy had grown out his mustache since the last time Ari saw him. It gave him an uncanny resemblance to Hoodwink. If it weren't for that gruff voice, every syllable dripping contempt, she might've believed her father had come back from the dead as mayor. A silly thought—of course Jeremy looked nothing like Hoodwink.
Then again...
Jeremy glanced over his shoulder. "Brute? Brute where are you?"
"Here!" The four-armed Direwalker ducked through the doorway.
"Bring her," Jeremy said.
Brute glanced into the hall, and nodded.
The other two Direwalkers who were guarding the door came into the room. They shoved a tiny, shriveled woman forward.
Cora.
Except, it wasn't Cora anymore.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Those eyes were more haunted than she'd ever seen them, and lacked any recognition whatsoever. Those slumped shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world of misery.
"Maggie!" Jeremy said. "You old whore you, how have you been?"
"Master Jeremy!" Cora smiled shyly. "May I please you?"
Jeremy gave Ari a sly look. "I had her revised with the program meant for you. I figured if I couldn't have you, might as well have your mother!"
Ari felt sick. It wasn't true. "But we took your Revision Box."
"You did indeed. And what a pain it was to dredge up another. I had to hire the best snatch-purse from the Thief's Kitchen to steal another. The Mayor of Luntus was much obliging. Don't think he'll be missing it though. Dead men can't miss things, right?"
Jeremy studied her for a moment. Strength was slowly trickling back into her limbs, but she pretended to be exhausted still. Jeremy rubbed his ear thoughtfully, then glanced at the other three Direwalkers hovering beside Brute. "Be useful and hold luvvie here would you? She's a tricky one, and I wouldn't be surprised if this exhaustion of hers was just as much a pretense as the mask."
Damn. The three Direwalkers came forward and restrained Ari.
Jeremy grinned. "What, not even token resistance today? I'm disappointed. Do you fear me so greatly?"
In truth, she wasn't struggling because she wanted to conserve her energy. She was getting stronger by the second. That electricity had drained her to the core, but the gol body had amazing recuperation powers. She just needed a little more time...
"Where are all your other Direwalker pets?" Ari said.
Jeremy smiled, his eyes widening in disbelief. "You're about to die, and all you can think about are my Direwalker pets? Well, if it will make your passing easier, I will tell you. My army of Direwalkers is readying to embark on a very important mission. A world-changing mission. If only you could live to see it. You'd be proud of me, Ari Flanners. You would! In any case, your passing won't be for naught. Take pride in the knowledge that your death will help me hunt down and destroy the entirety of the New Users."
Ari didn't believe it. "You were a gol when you came into this room. You know that, don't you? You had One written on your chest. Something's very wrong here. And not just with your sanity."
Raw, utter fear darted across Jeremy's face. But then he was all smiles again. "Do you know what power truly is at its heart, Ari? And why everyone wants to be rich? Well of course you do. You've had a taste, as leader of that little band of yours. You must have." He rested a hand on her mother's shoulder. "Control. Making other people do what they don't want to do. Making them do what you want. Getting your way. That's power. That's why people want to be rich. And I am very rich." He turned toward Cora. "Maggie, I have something special for you to do today. Something really important. Do you understand, Maggie? It's very important that you don't fail."
Cora's eyes widened fearfully, and she nodded. "I won't let you down Master Jeremy."
"Good. Because now's your chance to shine, Maggie dear
." Jeremy glanced at the giant Direwalker. "If you would, Brute."
The four-armed gol produced the same metallic disk it had been holding in Dhenn. Brute gave the disk to Cora.
"With this disk," Jeremy said. "All traces of you will die, Ari. With a simple touch to the forehead, you will be killed utterly in all these realms of existence that people keep telling me about. One moment you will exist, and the next you will cease to exist. I could just use a sword I suppose, but I want to make sure you're thoroughly dead. Think of this as a parting gift from the best lover you've ever had. After all, without me to warm your mattress, you've been dead all these years anyway." Jeremy shoved Cora forward. "Touch the disk to her forehead, Maggie dear. Amuse your master."
Cora walked forward unsteadily. She kept glancing at Jeremy as though worried that just walking the wrong way might upset him. When she came near Ari, she knelt, and peered into her eyes.
"It's easy, Maggie," Jeremy said. "All you have to do is touch the disk to her forehead."
Cora reluctantly lifted the disk.
"Mom," Ari said. "It's me. Mom."
"Jeremy, I—" Cora looked back.
"Do it," Jeremy said.
Ari lowered her voice. "Mom."
Cora frowned. "Why do you keep calling me that?" She brought the disk forward.
Ari tensed her muscles. The Direwalkers detected this, and tightened their grips.
There was no way Ari was going to allow that disk to touch her forehead. She'd tilt her head at the last moment. She'd break free, hurl the Direwalkers at her mother. She'd—
But Cora paused a handspan from her forehead.
"I don't know you," Cora said. "But why is it that you have my eyes, and my face?"
"Maggie, enough!" Jeremy said. "You displease me!"
Cora stared at Ari, and then recognition lit her eyes, followed by mischief. Cora winked.
Her mother's hand moved in a blur. She pressed the device to the foreheads of the three Direwalkers restraining Ari, one after the other.
The Direwalkers remained motionless a few moments, not realizing they'd been killed perhaps. Then abruptly all three slumped to the floor.
Ari scooped up the Box and shot to her feet.
Cora spun toward Jeremy and Brute, and lifted the disk menacingly.
Jeremy stepped back, raising his robed hands. "Come now Maggie, this is your master here. You wouldn't want to hurt your master, would you?"
"You're no master of mine." Cora spat the words.
Brute took a step forward.
"Be still, you fool!" Jeremy hissed at the Direwalker. "That disk will destroy you the same as the others."
Brute regarded Jeremy uncertainly, and then obeyed.
Cora and Ari warily strode past Brute and Jeremy. Cora kept her hand raised, the metal gleaming in her fingers. The Direwalker and the man swiveled to keep the disk in view.
When Cora and Ari neared the door, one of the forgotten Monitor gols surged forward without warning and slapped the disk from Cora's hand.
The metallic object dropped to the floor, and all eyes watched it bounce. Once. Twice. On the third bounce, the disk came to a rest.
Jeremy glanced up. "Get them!"
Brute leaped into motion.
66
Ari sprinted from the room with her mother.
Except it wasn't her mother—Cora reached up and ripped off her face as she ran.
Tanner raced beside Ari, his face grim, the remains of the White Poultice dripping from his fingers.
In Dhenn, Ari had doubled-back to her mother's house before returning to the transit center. She had suspected Brute would come for Cora, and though she resented what her mother had done—taking money for the revision of her only daughter—Ari couldn't leave her, not when Brute knew where she lived. Ari got there ahead of the Direwalker, but she couldn't convince Cora to come, so she threw her mother over one shoulder and hotfooted it through the tunnel. She immediately took a side passage, and could've sworn she saw Brute lumbering down the main tunnel. She took Cora back through the portal hop after pulling rank on a couple of gol guards, and she brought her kicking and screaming mother out the other side. In the city-state, after evading the gols that watched the transit center, she dropped her mom off with the New Users in the Black Den, and instructed them to protect Cora with their lives.
Then Ari visited Tanner and Briar, and Tanner went back in Cora's place after Ari convinced him. Brute captured Tanner-Cora. Briar was planted in the house as a Revisor when the household spy reported that Jeremy had acquired a new Revision Box. Briar's presence was in case Jeremy decided to revise Tanner-Cora—and true to form, Jeremy attempted just that. Briar had played his part well it would seem. He would be long gone from the mayor's house by now, the new Revision Box in his custody.
All that was left was for Ari and Tanner to escape with the Control Room.
The two meticulously avoided the carpet in the reception hall. Hands and tentacles formed at the fringes of that carpet, but Ari and Tanner were faster, and escaped into the foyer. Brute was in hot pursuit, racing along in that centipede fashion of his. Neither Tanner nor Ari had their fire swords, nor any other weapon. Ari wished Jeremy hadn't moved that sword rack of his out of the reception hall.
Blades drawn, two Direwalkers barred the exit to the mansion.
Without slowing, Ari grabbed a vase from a pedestal. Tanner snatched a marble bust.
Ari ran right at her opponent. The Direwalker jabbed at her with the sword but she batted the blade aside with the vase, and brought her hand around to smash the ceramic into the gol's head. The vase shattered and the gol plunged to the floor.
Beside her, Tanner had emerged similarly unscathed, the bust gone from his hands. Put to good use no doubt.
Ari burst through the front door.
Outside, it was late evening. The sky was overcast and threatened a storm.
Ari and Tanner tore past the frozen fountain on the terrace, taking the pine-lined footpath toward the gated exit. The trees sped past—
Direwalkers leaped down from the pines behind them.
And then the bomb exploded.
Ari ducked as pieces of the pines and the fountain rained past. She glanced back. A gaping hole had been carved into the front of the mansion. A crater remained where the fountain had been. Most of the trees along the path had toppled. The Direwalkers lay in various states of dismemberment. No sign of Brute.
Well done, Briar.
The gate lay open ahead. The two gol sentries were dead beside it, staked through the heart. Ari and Tanner slowed as they passed through.
"Well I can hardly believe it," Ari said. "Briar actually came through for us."
"Where are the fire swords then?" Tanner said. There were supposed to be two here, placed along the tall stone fence that enclosed the estate.
"Maybe some other guards found the swords," Ari said. "Maybe Briar forgot that part."
"Or maybe he sold us out." Tanner turned toward the house across the street, well aware that Briar was probably watching through the spyglass at this very moment.
Ari felt herself a pretty good judge of character, and she'd grown rather fond of her Uncle in the previous days. So it was understandable that Tanner's words didn't sit well with her. "He wouldn't do that to his own niece. Besides, after what we promised him, he'd never betray us."
But Tanner was insistent. "Unless the mayor promised him more."
Ari shook her head. "Briar kept you from being revised. Detonated the bomb. Took out these gols. He did his job as far as I'm concerned." She lowered the Box, taking a sword belt from one of the dead sentries and fastening it around her waist. "Let's go before Jeremy puts together some kind of response."
Tanner made a grab for the second sword belt—
A blade erupted point-first from his chest, and he was lifted, skewered, into the air.
Tanner gazed down, squirming, and wrapped his hands around the metal.
But it was not one sword, b
ut four, and those blades parted now, two to the left, two to the right, so that the two halves of Tanner's body splattered the ground.
67
Ari watched the scene unfold in a daze.
Brute stepped forward, covered in Tanner's blood.
Dead.
Tanner was dead.
Die violently as a gol, die in real life.
A rage like Ari had never felt before in her entire life filled her. An all-consuming, mass-murdering rage. She could hardly see for the red fury that colored her vision. If anger were madness, it would have known no greater insanity than this.
She drew her blade without a word. She stepped forward, each step measured, precise. When she closed with the Direwalker, she moved faster than she'd ever moved in her life, without thought of repercussion, without thought of her own safety. Her blade was a blur of steel. Her arm a smear of flesh. She beat back those scimitars like a swordswoman whose whole life had been mere preparation for this moment, and the stunned Direwalker was forced to retreat.
The wind picked up as she fought. The snow began to fall.
She heard only the sound of the swords, hers and her opponent's, a continuous clang clang clang as the four-armed Direwalker struggled to parry.
Clang clang clang.
Clang clang clang.
CLANG.
Her blade struck one of Brute's wrists. She'd hoped her rage would be enough. That the hand would sever. But her weapon merely bounced away.
She was immediately forced on the defensive, parrying—clang clang clang.
Then her sword found Brute's heart.
She thrust with everything she had, and with utmost purpose, as if the sheer force of her will could drive that blade through the heart.
But the tip didn't penetrate. The reverberation of the impact jarred Ari's whole upper body. She'd risked much in that attempted killing blow, too much, and left herself entirely open. The resulting reverberation only worsened matters, temporarily numbing her.
She was defenseless.
But Brute didn't kill her.
The Direwalker smiled. It crossed its blades over its chest in a double X and flung its scimitars outward, hitting her with the flats of the blades.
