Sanctum (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1) (21 page)

Ana laughed and gave Malachi a playful shove. “They’re like these enormous calculators, old man.” She gave me an amused look. “Why would anyone want one of those? Oh, I guess maybe an accountant might…and I think we have a lot of those here. But no—I think we’d notice if someone’s apartment was taken up entirely with circuit boards.”

Malachi’s smile told me he’d figured something out—and it also made my heart skip a beat or two. “Something tells me times have changed, Ana.”

“Yeah,” I replied, still staring at his mouth. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you run into that kind of thing in the near future. If you think people gorge on TV, wait until you see the Internet.”

Ana shrugged. “All right, but whatever that is, it probably wouldn’t work that well, anyway. Nothing here does.”

As we entered the downtown area, I craned my neck to see where the buildings ended. I could almost feel them breathing, decaying, and yet growing, fueled by the desires and wishes of people who didn’t know what they needed. My plan to grow my own iPod just for fun kind of evaporated at that point.

In the downtown section of the city resided those who had absolutely no desire to see beyond what they wanted. Some
of them had been here for centuries, the buildings growing and evolving around them, scar tissue over festering wounds. Ana told stories of patrolling these streets, witnessing people lugging massive amounts of garbage into the high-rises. The residents here were willing to defend their precious treasures to the end. They collected junk until they were trapped in their apartments, buried in all their wishes, in all the things they’d collected to fill the emptiness that made them kill themselves in the first place. I wondered what Nadia might have been seeking when she decided to escape her life. What did Nadia think would fill her empty space?

We had been walking in silence for almost an hour, surrounded by high-rises so tall they seemed to join together at the top, closing us in. On the sidewalk, the lamps that provided us with our only light grew weaker and farther apart.

I stumbled a few times in the murk, unable to see the uneven pavement at my feet. “Jeez, can you guys see at all? Aren’t you afraid some Mazikin could sneak up on us?”

Ana laughed. “First, thanks for underestimating us like that. And second, no. Mazikin avoid downtown like the plague. It’s too much, even for them. Especially for them.”

I squinted and tried to see what lay ahead of us, but it was completely black. “They don’t seem like the types to be afraid of the dark.”

Malachi held his arm out to keep me from walking farther. “It’s not the dark, Lela. It’s this. Right in front of us. The dark tower. Put your arm out.”

I obeyed and then yanked my hand back immediately. I couldn’t really say why it felt so bad, but touching that building felt profoundly, overwhelmingly, instinctually
wrong
. I looked up at Malachi for an explanation, and even in the darkness I could read the regret on his face.

“We have to go through it,” he explained. “It’s not something we can go around. We’ve tried. The other Guards have no problem going through it, but for us, for humans, it’s…harder.”

I stared at him blankly. I didn’t understand what he was talking about—we couldn’t go around it? We’d been walking around buildings all day.

“But…” I pointed to the corner where the building seemed to end. Malachi nodded for me to try it. I did, walking along the edge of the building, but it somehow expanded and contorted to prevent me from going around it.

I returned to his side. “How come it does this?”

Malachi sighed. “This tower is right at the center of the city. It’s probably been here since this place was created. It stands in the middle of all of this misery, all these lost people. And if buildings can grow out of people’s wishes and desires, why can’t one grow out of their fears? It’s some sort of vortex for feelings and memories—”

“Malachi, say it plain and simple,” snapped Ana. “Walking through here will make you feel bad, Lela. Really bad. But you just keep walking, and
do not stop
, all right? No matter what you’re feeling, or what you remember, don’t stop walking. It’s not that far. Keep your mind on your feet.”

My eyes bounced back and forth between Ana and Malachi. I should have noticed this change stealing over the two of them during the last hour. Ana looked mad, almost grimly determined. And Malachi looked sick. He was already sweating.

I wanted to take his hand and reassure him. I felt stupid even thinking about it as I watched him square his shoulders and lift his chin, setting his eyes on the low, square entryway, the only way to get to the other side. Yeah, I wanted to reassure him, but I also wanted him to pick me up and carry me through this awful place.

He turned to me. “We could go back and circumvent all of downtown, but it would take two extra days to get to Harag. It’s why we came this way. But we could go back if you want. We don’t have to go through. I should have told you. I just didn’t—”

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” mocked Ana, mimicking his accent with devastating accuracy. Malachi snapped his mouth shut and gave her a withering look, but she didn’t back down. “Malachi, you have got to get your eye on the ball here. She is not a little girl. She is—”

“Standing right here,” I interrupted angrily, “and will see you guys on the other side.” I marched into the dark tower,
wanting to get it over with before the dread could bubble up and suffocate me.

The last thing I heard as the door of the building slammed shut behind me was Malachi calling my name.

I HAD THOUGHT THE
city was silent, but I didn’t understand silence until that moment. As I took my first few steps into the soaring lobby, I imagined this was what it felt like to be completely deaf. My boots faltered noiselessly, and I knelt quickly to brace myself.

And immediately had to suppress the urge to barf.

When my fingers hit the floor, I realized why it was so difficult to keep my balance: it was soft and slick, a living thing. I stood up quickly, fighting my gag reflex as I wiped my hand against my pants.

Remembering Ana’s advice, I took careful steps deeper into the cavernous mouth of the building. I thought about turning
back to wait for Malachi and Ana, but as I looked toward the door, all I saw was a smooth wall.

It was pulsing, thrumming gently.

Just a thousand more miles of weird. Keep moving forward. Don’t stop, and don’t freak out
.

The air was saturated, wet and warm. It settled into my skin and onto my tongue, sour and rank.

Then I recognized the smell.

I bowed my head and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep it together as my heart rate accelerated painfully. The air was full of Rick. His breath: beer and cigarettes. His scent: stale sweat and gasoline.

Keep moving forward, Lela, it’s not real
. My fingernails bit deeply into my palms as I stumbled onward, no longer trying to fight the helpless retching that doubled me over every few steps.

When I felt his hands on me, I spun around, lost my balance, and ended up on my back. And when I looked down, my armor and boots were gone. I was wearing that too-tight, too-short nightgown Rick always made me put on before I went to bed. He was here. He would hurt me again. I screamed with noiseless terror.

No no no
, I argued silently with myself.
This is
not
real
.

I spent a moment trying to calm down, squinting up at the strange carvings on the ceiling of the dimly lit lobby. They squirmed—undulating shadows. What if they were coming to get me?

My feet slid as they tried to gain traction on the slimy floor.

Breathe and get up. Get up
.

I stopped flailing, forcing myself into more deliberate movements. I slowly rolled to my stomach and got to my hands and knees. I was covered in blood and slime. I sat back, frantically wiping my hands, desperate to scrape it off. But the memories hung from me in sticky ropes. They webbed my hands, caught between my fingers. I couldn’t get away from the smell.

Then his weight was at my back, pressing me into pink sheets, buckling my arms and trying to force my face into my own pillow.

It’s not real
, I chanted as I pushed back and got up unsteadily, limbs shaking, teeth chattering in the warm, humid air.
Keep walking
. I barely lifted my feet as I slid along the squishy organ of the floor, gelatinous ooze squishing between my toes.
This will not beat me. Memories cannot kill me. I am stronger than that
. I clenched my teeth.
I am stronger than that, and that is why I am here
.

I walked, back stiff against the assault of his hands, his body. Ah, Holy Mother, I wanted to lash out, just as I had the night I’d finally fought back. I wanted to smash his face, to kick, to tear, to destroy him. My muscles cramped with the desire to attack. But he wasn’t really there, and if I gave in to that instinct, I’d lose my balance and end up on my back in the slime again.
Keep walking
.
You’ve already defeated this ghost
.

The sound of Rick’s voice dropped me to my knees. “This is your fault for flaunting it in front of me. Keep quiet, you little slut.”

Rick’s voice droned on, telling me all the reasons I deserved it. All the reasons I wouldn’t tell anyone. All the reasons it was my fault. All the reasons I’d asked for it. And no one would care because I was just a throwaway, a disposable girl.

My fingers curled over the veined floor. It bled.

Rick’s voice got louder. It was coming from inside my skull. He was in there with me.

I clutched at my head, hair tearing loose under my fingers.

I had to dig him out.

Look around; find the way out
, a different voice said.

Malachi’s voice.

I froze, searching the gloom. Had he followed me in? Was he coming for me?

No, I was alone, but I clung to his voice desperately. Something about it eased the pain in my head a little, enough for me to get to my feet, holding my arms out for balance.

Find the way out. Keep walking. This isn’t real
.

It got worse, every touch sinking in, every shove and pinch and push and grab and twist and I fell to my knees again a few steps later, surprised my head wasn’t splitting open.
I can’t
, I thought.
I can’t take this
.

Yes, you can
, whispered Malachi, his voice sliding beneath the nauseating rhythm pulsing inside my skull.
It’s not real. You are strong enough
.
Get on your feet. You’re almost there
.

I screamed again, this time in anger—a battle cry. I stomped against the slick skin of the building, driving my heels into its flesh.

With every lift of my foot, I chanted,
I am strong enough
.

With every breath, I repeated,
This is not real
.

Up. Down. In. Out.

When my voice failed me, Malachi’s filled in, completing the sentences, adding the missing words.

But with every step, more of the building’s tissue stuck to my feet. It got harder to lift them. The floor was sucking me down, breathing me in, swallowing and digesting me. I wanted to give up. I suddenly knew that if I stopped struggling, everything else would stop, too. If I didn’t fight anymore, I could just lie there forever, entombed in silence.

This evil building was offering me a choice: all the horror would end if I lay still and let it have me. It was tempting. I was so tired. And the assault, more than memory now, seemed like it would never end. I didn’t know how much more I could take without breaking completely. It would be nice to rest. To sleep.

To be done with everything.

With that wish, it was like my eyes were opened for the first time. I looked at the walls, the ceiling, the floor…and I
saw
. Thousands of people, interwoven, eyes closed, at rest. Backs
and fronts and arms and legs and hands and hair. They were the squishy surface beneath my feet, all melded together and smoothed over by a sticky membrane. They were the undulating shadows on the ceiling and walls. They were the reason the building was so immense. They were its conquests, its sustenance, its backbone. Sleeping for eternity, no more pain, no more…anything.

And instead of being horrified, I was drawn in. A wave of sleepiness rolled over me and I fell to one knee and welcomed it. My heart beat sluggishly, ready to fall silent forever.

Don’t give up
, pleaded Malachi’s voice, cracking with desperation.
Please don’t give up. I’m right on the other side of the door. I want to see you again. I need to see you again. Please
.

Somehow, it was enough to draw me to my feet one more time. Just the idea he might need me to make it through. I could see him again if only I kept moving.…My face smacked against a hard surface.

A door.

I ripped it open and fell through it, nerveless and panting.

Malachi caught me in his arms and carried me away from the mouth of the building. He sat down on the curb, holding me against his chest. He wasn’t wearing his armor anymore. His smell, leather and clean, warm skin, filled my nose, replacing the choking stench of Rick. I sucked in deep lungfuls of it, unable to get enough.

His hands ran over me, and as they did, I noticed I wasn’t wearing that terrible too-tight, too-short nightgown after all. I was wearing the Guard uniform. My clothes and armor were clean and intact. I’d thought I was covered in the building’s saliva, but I was completely dry.

Malachi gasped, and his fingers closed around mine. Silently, he pulled away several long, curling strands of hair tangled around my fingers. He touched my palms gently, running his fingertips over the bloody divots left by my fingernails. He put his hand on my cheek and tilted my face up to his.

I stared at him shamelessly, sinking deep into the black-brown depths of his eyes. They were filled with concern. For me. I can’t describe how that felt to me. I almost burst into tears but managed to cling to my cool with white-tipped fingers.