Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The world snapped and fuzzed around him. The stone walls loomed large and shot into the distance in dizzying unpredictability. A low buzz, like a stadium crowd in the distance, filled the air. Michael stared in horror at the thick stone that suddenly seemed like a paper screen separating him from something horrible and determined. The noise grew louder, shattering into distinct voices.

“—see me, know you can—”

“—fight, fight every day—”

“—never told her—”

“—need to have it, just one more—”

“—don’t like it here—”

Michael tried to ignore the incessant chatter and the throbbing walls, focusing on the shivering girl. Mindful of the fragile bones beneath the clammy skin, he nonetheless kept a tight grip. “Gwen,” he called softly. His voice vanished into the din.

“—scary, Mommy, please—”

“—searching forever—”

“—couldn’t hurt me again—”

“—never let go—”

“Gwen, don’t listen to them. Listen to me.” Michael spoke firmly.

That’s what he says.

The thought was so clear that he nearly dropped her hand as well as the link between them in surprise. Gwen’s blank stare tightened, flickering back to the present.

“Gwen?”

You have to follow me.

“No, Gwen, you need to come back with me,” he urged, not wanting to be drawn deeper into her madness. The voices rose up, snatching at his attention.

NO!
The word hit him like hurricane-force winds, a denial negating and flattening everything in its path. Michael winced, his head throbbing from the psychic impact. The voices went silent for a moment, but then began to mutter again.

Gwen stared at him with the shadowed eyes of someone who has been forced to see more than any sane human could ever imagine.
You have to go or else they die.

“Go where?” Michael choked out.

Here.
Gwen’s free hand shot out and clamped onto Michael’s cheek, the bony fingers digging into his skin. He gasped and stiffened against the assault, but it was too late.

His consciousness flowed out of his body like water. He saw himself fall onto the floor. Gwen’s hand lay trapped beneath his head, and for a moment he worried the weight of his skull might break her fingers.

“Don’t. I’ll be all right.”

He looked up, but the Gwen standing in front of him was not the same one lying in the stone-walled room. She was younger, her short dark hair in a pixie-cut and neatly combed. She moved like any other girl, and her eyes were clear and lucid.

Except he could also see her pale and battered body lying beside him, and his own body next to her. “How…?” He couldn’t quite get the words past his amazement.

She smiled. “It’s a combination of the two of us. I couldn’t explain it, but they were sure it would work.”

He watched as Dani’s mother cradled her daughter while her father stood guard at the door. Dani knelt beside Michael, biting her lip, her hand hovering as if she wanted to touch him, but she didn’t want to risk overloading him. Except that he couldn’t sense her at all, as if she were an image on television. The realization unsettled him. But he had to focus on Gwen right now. “Who are ‘they’?”

“Ghosts. Spirits. Messengers.” Gwen shrugged as if the details were unimportant. “They sent a lot of them because it was hard for me to hear the message. You know, because of the crazy.”

“You’re not crazy. You’re a medium. The voices are real.” Michael turned back to Gwen, determined to understand what had happened. The walls were still throbbing, but the voices were muted.

“That only makes it worse.” Gwen rubbed her toe against the floor. “Chuck should be here.”

“Chuck?” Michael tried to keep his concern out of his voice. Surely she didn’t mean Bernie’s invisible instigator?

“I had to open the door so he could come in. But don’t worry. He’s not upset that you didn’t think he was real.”

“Speak for yourself, doll,” a boy’s voice drawled with a harsh Brooklyn accent. Spinning, Michael saw a small boy around ten years old standing beside them, as solid as Dani, her parents, or either of the Gwens. The boy wore dull gray trousers and suspenders. His white shirt had the sleeves rolled up and a gray cap perched uncertainly on his head.

“Chuck?” Michael tried to collect his professional dignity and closed his mouth.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“Bernie’s Chuck?”

“What, you want ID?” The toughened child had no patience for mental processing. “Musta left it in my other pants. You know, when I died.”

“What are you doing here?” Michael asked, eager to regain some illusion of control and normality.

“Bernie needs you.”

“I know.” Guilt weighed him down.

“You was supposed to rescue her! She’s scared!” Chuck’s pint-sized fury exploded.

“I know.” Had life ever been so simple when he was a child? Even then, he’d seen into the secrets people didn’t want to share. He’d wanted it to be simple, and that urge had drawn him to comics. Heroes help, villains hurt and in the end, the right side wins.

“I tried to help her. Tried to show her what was wrong.” Chuck glared at him.

He remembered Bernie’s words.
Chuck says it’s scary.
“You were right.”

“You mugs never listen to me!” Chuck shouted.

“It’s hard for people to listen to me, too,” Gwen told him, plucking at her hair.

“Chuck, I’m listening now. But you need to promise something, too.” Michael knelt beside the boy, putting them on the same level.

“Or what? You won’t help?” the boy sneered.

“I’ve been helping Bernie a long time, and I’m going to get her out of that place.” Irritated at the suggestion of abandonment, his voice firmed. He took a breath, reminding himself that Chuck was still a child, no matter how long he had been dead. “But it would help if you would stop telling her to hurt other people or destroy things.”

Chuck stared at his feet. “I don’t always mean it. I just get mad sometimes.”

“I know. But Bernie gets confused. You need to be a good friend to her and help her. One way is to help her know she’s not alone. Her mom is fighting real hard to get her back home. And I’m fighting hard, too.” He reached out to touch Chuck’s arm, uncertain if his hand would pass right through, but instead his fingers settled on warm flesh.

Without any information. It surprised him. He’d never touched someone without picking up flashes of memories or emotional states. It felt strangely empty.

“It’s cause I ain’t got no body, genius.” Chuck shook his head in the universal juvenile disgust at the obtuseness of adults everywhere.

“Can you read my thoughts?” Michael asked.

“Naw. But I know what you can do. And it ain’t hard to figure out what you’re thinking.” He paused, studying Michael. “You really gonna ride in and save Bernie?”

“Maybe not ride in, but I’m going to get her out of there. I won’t stop until she’s out.” As much as it went against his instincts, Dani was right about the futility of a forward assault. This wasn’t a comic where everything would work out. They needed a better plan than hoping for the best.

“You have to stay away!” a new voice shrieked.

The wavering figure standing in the corner couldn’t seem to decide if it was a skinny man with matted hair or a powerful one bristling with science-fiction weapons. “There’s no time!” he shouted. “They’re coming!”

“Who are you?” Michael demanded, stepping between the strange apparition and Gwen and Chuck.

“Can’t tell you my name. Always want to know my name. That’s how they find you, track you down, snatch you while you sleep. Can’t give the name. No, no. Not going to get me again.” He solidified briefly into the skinny, unkempt version of himself, wearing a T-shirt with a Superman logo. “Have to give the message, get back out there. Need me to fight the war. Can’t leave my post.”

“He’s been shouting so loud, even the stone didn’t keep him away.” Gwen curled her bony fingers around Michael’s arm, crouching in his shadow. “He came right after Chuck.”

“Keeps yammering about the message. But the stupid mook won’t tell us what it is.” Chuck threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“Who told you to give the message?” Michael’s training steadied him. No matter how weird the setting and circumstances, this was still a mentally disturbed individual who needed his help.

“Big guy. Told me then killed me. Didn’t want to. But they had him. Knew his name.”

“What did he say?” Michael kept his voice calm and undemanding.

“Said to find Gwen. Needed to give her the message.”

“I’m Gwen.” She stepped around Michael.

The skinny man scrubbed his hands through his matted hair. “You are?”

She nodded, her fingers knotting and twisting together.

“What about them? They might be with, you know,
them
.”

“I trust them. Please, tell me.” Gwen whispered, her weight poised lightly on her feet as if she were prepared to flee at the slightest sign of danger.

“I’m tired. So tired. Running all the time. Trying to keep ahead.” He sank down on the ground.

“They can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now,” Michael reassured him.

“He said to tell them André is looking for them. He wants power. Tell them to run.”

Sharp coppery blood on her tongue warned Dani before her compulsive lip-biting could sever a substantial portion of flesh. Her thighs ached with the effort of supporting herself on her haunches on the uneven floor.

Michael’s skin had gone horribly pale against the dark stone floor. He hadn’t moved since Gwen grabbed him and they’d fallen together. The clock might only say a few minutes had passed but it felt like hours to Dani. Gwen curled up as if she were simply asleep but Michael’s chest barely shifted with each shallow breath. She strained to hear the muted thump of his slowed heart, desperate for any sign of improvement. Only his eyes flickering behind half-closed lids betrayed any sign of life. Even his smell was muted, a pale faded memory of apples and vanilla instead of a mouth-watering inspiration.

Like when he’d vanished at Vapor’s. The hacker might not have understood her panic, but it had unnerved her to see everything that made Michael himself vanish out of his body, leaving nothing behind but slack meat. She’d seen enough dead bodies in her lifetime to recognize the difference between the living and the dead, breathing notwithstanding. Her lip slipped between her teeth again as she watched her mother in trance.

“I can’t find them.” Virginia roused herself, shaking her head sadly. “They’ve gone somewhere I can’t follow.” She cradled Gwen’s limp body, stroking her arms.

Dani growled at her mother before she could stop herself, her irises burning.

Virginia straightened in surprise, her hands tightening protectively on Gwen. “They’re both still alive with spirits intact. For now.”

“But you don’t know where they are.” Dani’s voice could have been recorded for demonic possession special effects.

“No. Gwen has always been able to outdistance me on the spectral planes. It’s part of her gift. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Virginia insisted.

“And what about Michael?” Caught up in her worry, Dani barely realized that she’d called him by his proper name for the first time.

“I don’t know,” her mother snapped. “All I can do anymore are minor predictions. You want to know if he’s going to travel, get a promotion, find an apartment, I can tell you. This is beyond anything I can see since I don’t have a direct connection to the divine anymore.”

Dani winced at the implication, looking to her father for support. But Walter was quiet, focused on guarding the door to Gwen’s room. It always came back to this. If she sacrificed herself, then things would be better. The
lalassu
would be under the direct leadership of the Goddess again. The needs of everyone else came before her apparently selfish preference for survival. The Huntress thrummed eagerly at the thought of the ceremony, pulling and tugging at her psyche. She was tired of fighting it. She hated the memory of disappointment in Michael’s eyes. If she threw herself into the Huntress’s maw, she wouldn’t have to remember it again.