Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (22 page)

“I don’t understand. Why?”

Fuyuko chimed in. “We’re still not certain. Since Sophia was a seer and you’re a Script, he could’ve been watching either one of you. Given the things we suspect Sophia told him, it’s likely he was watching
both
of you.”

“So what? Suture’s been behind everything?”

Pridament cleared his throat. “We’re not sure if he was working for Suture, the Fallen, or even a third party. The only thing we know for sure is that either he was orchestrating some larger scheme, or at the very least, he was a component of it.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” They hadn’t said it, but their voices made it plain. Not regret or remorse, but the frustration that perhaps the answers were beyond their grasp.

“I tried to save him, but one of the other Taints got in my way.” Pridament said.

“Maybe that’s a good sign.”

Both Fuyuko and Pridament stared slack jawed at Gwynn.

“Would you like to explain?” Fuyuko asked.

“It means Sophia didn’t see everything. Or, even better, she didn’t tell him everything. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been in that hospital.”

“So you think maybe Sophia covered for us? You think she knew what was coming but hid it so we could finish this without interference?” Pridament appeared skeptical.

“I know. It’s a long shot. Maybe I’m just hoping it’s true because it means she cared about me. But I can’t believe Justinian would be there if he knew he would die. So either we’re in the clear cause she lied, or because she didn’t see this far.”

Pridament drew a deep breath and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Well, hope’s kept me going this long, why give up on her now?”

The three left the vehicle and went up to the warehouse. No signs of life or activity. The parking lot stood empty and large shades blocked the office windows.

“There’s something the two of you should know before we go in there.” Pridament said.

“What?” Fuyuko and Gwynn said in tandem.

“It’s the way the Fallen work. The tear at the old Cameron house was a naturally occurring tear. These two, though, they’ve been created within a specific relation to that tear to create the vortex.”

“Are you saying an Anunnaki opened a tear on purpose?” Fuyuko asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait.” Lightning struck Gwynn. “If they opened those tears themselves and left them open, then that means they’ve been connected for a while, like I was. That means—”

“That they’re not exactly human any longer. Truth is we have no idea what’s going to happen when we enter that building.”

Gwynn’s resolve wavered. A deserted building and an Anunnaki driven to madness by the Veil. But at the corner of his mind came a voice—soft and loving. It reminded him of two people who were in love and that he alone could protect them. Whether that was true or not, it reminded him of the one thing that mattered, the one thing that would propel him to the lowest levels of hell if need be. Vengeance.

“Let’s go.”

The door to the main office complex was unlocked. Not good. Pridament and Fuyuko agreed. They eased their way into the building. The door slammed behind them and they plunged into darkness.

“Did
anyone think to bring a flashlight?” Gwynn asked.

Silence answered him.

“Pridament? Fuyuko?”

Still nothing. He called out to them again. He yelled for them. Nothing.

Gwynn started moving forward. The ground seemed odd, uneven. A few more steps. He stumbled, falling face first to the ground.

Instead of hitting cold concrete, his hands rested on soft grass. The smell of earth filled his nostrils.

“What the hell?”

A faint light illuminated the ground around him. The light filtered through what appeared to be trees. He scrambled to his feet and did a three–sixty. He appeared to be in the middle of a wooded area. From ahead, a brighter light cut through the trees. Gwynn moved toward it.

He climbed an embankment and found himself on a road—the bright light an oncoming car’s headlights.

No, no.

The lights cut across him. Tires squealed and metal tore. But he didn’t wake up.

Minutes passed. Then movement where the car had gone off the road. A small figure grappled its way up. In the moonlight, it took Gwynn a moment to recognize himself.

He wanted to call out to the boy. Was this how it happened? He couldn’t remember leaving the car.

More movement caught his attention.

His father.

The older man called out to the younger Gwynn. “Stop, Gwynn. Come back. Your mother’s hurt.”

The boy turned around. From this distance, Gwynn shouldn’t have seen the boy’s eyes. But he could. They held nothing but cold rage.

“I don’t care. Good. That’s what you both get for making me leave my friends.”

Gwynn had no idea what the words were doing to his father, but they struck him like a knife in his chest.

His father advanced on the younger Gwynn. The man reached out to grab the child by the arm.

An explosion of light.

Gwynn slammed his eyes shut. It was like the movie depictions of an atom bomb. He expected searing heat and his flesh torn from his bones. Instead, he felt nothing.

When the intensity of the light outside his eyelids had subsided, he dared to open them.

At his feet lay his father. Broken. Dead.

The younger Gwynn stood motionless, white fire filling his eyes.

“No.” Gwynn screamed. This wasn’t how it happened.

He stole another glance at his father. When he turned back, his younger self stood in front of his face.

“This
is
how it happened.” The boy said. His voice echoed and boomed like thunder. “Didn’t they tell you? They found your father outside of the car. So were you. How do you suppose that happened?”

“No.” Gwynn gave his head a violent shake, denying the horror in front of him. “No. This isn’t what happened. I could never—”

“Stop lying to yourself. This is the truth you’ve hidden from all these years. You could never admit this reality. Why do you think you always woke up just after the crash? Why do you think you would never allow yourself to go forward? Because you couldn’t face this. Now that you know, perhaps you’d like to do something about it?”

Gwynn didn’t know what his younger self meant. Then he felt a familiar weight in his right hand. Xanthe.

“You should do the right thing. You are a murderer after all. End yourself, before anyone else has to suffer like your father.”

§

Fuyuko had been
fumbling around in the dark for hours.

She’d long given up trying to find Gwynn and Pridament. Initially, she just turned around to open the door that should’ve been right behind her. But it wasn’t. Now she blundered along, blind, alone, and forgetting why she had even come to this place. She just wanted to find a way out.

Lights started going on around her. Bright, powerful spots. She braced herself.

“You seem to be failing this exercise, Fuyuko.” A male voice said.

As he stepped from the shadows, she gasped.

“Paltar?”

“Who else would be evaluating you?”

Fuyuko’s eyes grew accustomed to the lights. Not just Paltar, but the entire Ansuz team, including Jason, were present.

The sight of Jason made her heart leap. She wanted to tell him about everything that had happened. Her need to have him hold her and say everything was fine verged on desperation.

But Jason did not seem pleased to see her.

Nor did anyone else.

“I don’t understand.” Fuyuko said. “What do you mean ‘evaluating’?”

“This has been a test. Sending you out on your own, having you chase after that boy. Even having you end up here, all part of a test. But you haven’t scored too well. Especially since you’ve spent hours wandering around in the dark. I mean, did you ever think of trying the Veil for some aid? Or maybe that if you are attacking an enemy’s stronghold you should be prepared with things like a flashlight?”

“It all happened so fast. None of us—”

“Of course none of you did. Certainly, the two men you came in here with weren’t going to come up with that. They were waiting to see what you would suggest.”

“Why would they—”

“Because they were in on it. Do you honestly think something like this would happen without Suture being heavily involved? I mean, really, a vortex about to collapse the world and you think we would send just
you
?”

“I thought it was odd, but a test?”

“Well, we don’t let just anyone onto the Ansuz team. You had to be put to a test to prove yourself.”

“I
have
proven myself.” She lowered her voice and fought back tears. “I went through all the training, completed five field missions, I even pulled a rabbit out of the hat.”

“Yes, I heard about that.” His expression said he didn’t believe it. “I’d like to see it for myself.”

Fuyuko looked at her teacher for a long time. Hadn’t he been there when she had done it? Hadn’t he been the first to pat her on the back? No. Maybe not. Her mind felt muddled. But she had gone through too much; put too much effort into making the Ansuz team. She wouldn’t let it go.

She tore into the Veil.

Pulling a rabbit out of the hat, their slang term for pulling an actual being across the Veil. It was difficult. No, it verged on impossible. Unlike Curses, which were creatures who came through a tear of their own volition, these creatures were often extensions of the Anunnaki’s abilities and, if done right, obeyed them.

She pushed harder into the Veil. Tearing the Veil as an Anunnaki was easy. To push all the way through, to tear deeper than the surface so that the creature could come forward, required intense concentration.

Fuyuko willed the tear to widen and deepen. At the other end, something began to pull at her mind. Most failed at this point. One of three things happened; you severed the connection, you pulled the rabbit from the hat, or you lost your mind. Fuyuko wouldn’t lose. In her mind, she pictured herself pulling on a fishing pole, reeling in the creature from the other side.

It resisted her.

She pulled harder.

Its consciousness touched her own—feral and angry. She didn’t remember it being so mad before, as if she were doing it some great harm or injustice.

The tear extended from her arm down to the floor and up above her head. It yawned open and the best lumbered forth.

It hunched forward on its knuckles—roughly the shape of a gorilla though double the size. It snorted through large nostrils and regarded her with huge yellow eyes. It shook; its long white hair moving in waves and ripples across its skin. Then it roared.

Fuyuko filled with horror. She wasn’t in control.

The beast leapt away from her and tore into one of the Ansuz team. Someone screamed. Bodies scrambled anywhere for safety.

Paltar stood his ground. He tore into the Veil and drew his battle–axe. As the beast approached, he twisted in a smooth motion and cleaved the beast’s head in half.

The moans of the injured and the weeping for the dead filled the room.

Paltar approached Fuyuko. “Not only are you not worthy of the Ansuz team, you are not worthy of Suture. Perhaps you should do the honorable thing and fall on your spear.”

Fuyuko couldn’t remember pulling her spear from the Veil, but now felt its weight in her hand. The sharpened tip beckoned to her and she readied herself to answer the call.

§

The room had
gone dark for a minute.

When the lights came back on, Pridament found himself alone. He made a quick scan of the room. No windows and no door behind him where it should’ve been.

He resisted the urge to call out to Gwynn or Fuyuko. Somehow, they had been folded away from each other—most likely sent to differing areas of the warehouse.

Pridament tore into the Veil and called his staff. The heft of it helped to drive away some of the dread he felt for his lost companions. He gripped the staff tighter and drew a deep, slow, breath.

He was in a long, low ceilinged, room littered with boxes. The fluorescent light in the ceiling flickered and sputtered, casting chaotic shadows across the walls and floor.

Pridament took slow, measured, steps toward the door at the other side. He paid special attention to his balance, his gaze sweeping from one side of the room to the other.

He stopped. A deep hiss came from the right side of the room.

A shadow moved on the left.

Ahead of him, a stack of boxes fell.

Pridament swung his staff.

Behind.

Catching the Curse in the head, sending it flying hard against the wall.

Pridament twisted the ends of his staff in opposite directions and drew the two halves apart. Thin blades extended from either side. He waited for the Curse to make a move. Boxes flew in all directions where the creature had landed. Something scuttled across the floor, sounding like a million cockroaches fleeing a fire.

The shadows shifted to his right.

Pridament attacked to the left.

The Curse howled as one of the blades slashed across its face.

Pridament took a clawed hand to the side—dagger–like nails digging trenches in his abdomen. With the warmth of blood coursing down his side, he cracked the Curse in its skull with the other end of his staff and threw himself away from its grasp. Pridament dashed for the door. Boxes tumbled all over the room. The room shook and tilted. He struggled to maintain his balance.

With a hiss, the Curse flung itself at him. Pridament ducked down and shoved his blades into the air, catching the Curse in the torso.

Momentum carried the monster forward. The blades cut a deep trough down its centre, splashing the walls and Pridament with black tar. It crashed into the opposite wall and crumbled into a heap. Pridament sat on the floor puffing. When his heart ceased its threat of leaping out his throat, he stood and took a hesitant step toward the Curse. He kicked it hard and the thing crumbled to dust.

Pridament reassembled the staff and reached to turn the knob to escape. His heart stopped beating for the long moment between twisting the knob and finding out if the door would open. A satisfying click signaled his escape from the room.