Soulstice (14 page)

“For ages, the answers seemed to lie in mysticism. Black and white magic—mostly black—faith, religion, devil worship, spells—all
that bunk. We didn’t know any better. Our sciences were the same as yours. Some of the greatest scientists and religious leaders
in history were Vours trying to figure things out. Rasputin was one of the most infamous—not that he did a very good job disguising
what he was.”

“You make it sound so benign,” said Reggie. “Like doctors trying to find a cure for cancer.”

“That’s a good analogy. To us, humans
are
the cancer.”

Reggie bristled.

“Hello, you possess us, remember? Like parasites.”

“Do you want to know this stuff or not? I’m just telling you like it is,” Quinn shot back. When Reggie was silent, he went
on. “So yeah, it wasn’t until the last century or so that we started to look at more concrete possibilities. The human brain
is a more complex machine than anything else in existence. Scientists started to theorize that Vours and humans were connected
physically,
chemically
, and not just psychically. So they started to look at the brain, its parts, its functions.”

“And what did they find?” Reggie asked.

“The amygdala.”

At Reggie’s questioning look, Quinn pointed to two red spots in the center of one of the brain images.

“They’re neuron hives that help humans identify and remember emotions, particularly fear. When you’re afraid of something,
it’s because your amygdala is sending signals registering fear to all the corners of your body. Sweaty palms, shallow breaths,
goosebumps—all responses triggered by the amygdala. It remembers fear, and it tells your body how to react.”

“But what does that have to do with Vours?”

“As far as we can tell, our world is some other plane of existence from this one, like another dimension. Somehow, only on
Sorry Night, we’re able to cross over into this dimension. How? What’s the popular sci-fi explanation for traveling between
dimensions?”

“I don’t know. Wormholes. Gateways—”

“Bingo. A gateway. But it needn’t be a physical door. What if the gateway is something in the human brain, something that
neurologically links the Vour world and the human world? Fear, after all, is just a series of nerve impulses caused by these
neuron groupings. The amygdala is the key—
it
’s the gateway.”

Reggie squinted at Quinn.

“So you’re saying that all this Vour research has proved that you monsters enter us through our own brains? That does sound
like science fiction.”

Quinn chuckled.

“And I suppose when your brother was taken over and sent to a fearscape, you thought it was rationally explainable? Come on,
Reggie, you know there have to be alternative theories about these things. The beauty of this one is that it’s not rooted
in witchcraft or voodoo or original sin or anything like that. It’s letting science guide the way to the answer.”

“But what does Sorry Night have to do with it?”

“That was the stumbling block. I didn’t even realize they’d hit on it until I found these. New advances in their equipment
have yielded better studies and pictures of the amygdala—look here.”

Quinn started flipping through some of the brain scans. A label at the top read “Patient B137.”

“So you can see these are all pictures of the same brain, right?”

Reggie nodded.

“Check out the time stamps.”

Reggie took the scans and examined the dates printed in the corner of each: June 21, Aug 13, Oct 31, Dec 21, Feb 27, Apr 16.
In the June picture, the red dots were small and faint, but as they progressed through the summer and into fall and winter,
they grew in size and intensity. Then as winter passed to spring, they started to shrink again. According to the images, Patient
B137’s amygdala was at its largest on Dec 21, the night of the winter solstice. Sorry Night.

“Why would the time of year matter to the amygdala’s size?” she asked Quinn.

“Don’t ask me—I needed tutoring in biology,” he replied. “Maybe it has to do with circadian rhythms or something like that,
or something not yet explainable by today’s science. The point is, the Vours think this is the key. Look at these.”

Quinn handed over a few more MRIs, all of different patients. But they were unlike B137’s. L52’s amygdala was comparatively
large for an April 5 scan, while R255’s was tiny on Dec 16.

“What does this mean?” Reggie asked. “They found exceptions to the rule?”

“Or they
created
exceptions to the rule.”

Reggie caught her breath.

“You mean like… experiments?”

Quinn took the scans from Reggie and put them back into his bag.

“I told you—lots of scientists in history have been Vours. And let’s just say they don’t have too many ethical qualms when
it comes to human testing. What these pictures tell me is that the Vours think the size of the amygdala is the key to us being
able to take over humans. Now they’re trying to artificially enlarge them, so that we can come through any day of the year,
not just Sorry Night.”

“How are they enlarging them?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t envy whoever they’re doing it to. Knowing my old kindred, I’d guess it’d have to do with injecting
them with various concoctions, feeding them things, giving them hallucinations—”

“Okay, stop, I get the picture. But it obviously hasn’t worked yet, since we’re not all walking around as Vours.”

“Given their current spree to get rid of the two of us, I’d say they’re close to discovering the answer. The summer solstice
is days away—if they can make this work on that day, when we’re usually at our weakest…”

Reggie blew out a slow breath. Aaron was always talking about how humans used such a tiny percentage of their brains, that
skills like ESP and telekinesis could be achieved if people could just learn how to access those parts of the mind. Maybe
the brain was also home to darker things, more evil things…

“How can we stop it?”

“We have to find them, first,” Quinn said. “Wherever they’ve set up shop, I don’t know about it.”

Lightning flashed, and thunder growled like a giant’s belly. They were silent as they heard the bikes pass by again. Reggie
began to pace.

“Don’t you have any idea where they might be? Any old haunts? Can’t you sniff them out or something?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the past several days? They’ve gone underground. But look, they’re doing medical experiments.
That means a place with equipment, labs, technicians. Maybe a clinic? Or a hospital? I don’t know how we’d search out every
doctor’s office in the area by next week, but it’s a place to start.”

Reggie stopped pacing.

“A mental hospital,” she said.

“What’s that?” Quinn asked.

“They’re studying brains—it could be a mental hospital.” Reggie felt her knees weak beneath her. “Oh, God.
Thornwood
.”

“What?”

“Where Henry goes, where his shrink works.” She raced to the grate and pulled on it, but Quinn caught her arm and held her
back.

“No way, they’re still out there.”

“I need to see my brother.”

“Is he at Thornwood right now?”

Reggie’s mind was racing, and it took her a minute to think of the right answer to the question. It was Friday afternoon;
no, Henry saw Unger on Thursdays now.

“No.”

“Then you don’t need to save him from anything right this second. Chill. Let’s think this through.”

Reggie paced again.

“Thornwood would be the perfect place for the Vours. It’s a private hospital, out in the middle of nowhere.”

“It could be the place. Just make sure Henry doesn’t go back there until we check it out.”

“No kidding.”

The trees thrashed and waved in the gusts. Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Quinn squatted by the wall,
resting his back on it. Reggie eyed him warily.

“Why are you doing this? Why do
you
want to stop this from happening? Open bodies twenty-four seven—sounds like your dream come true.”

Quinn stuck his hand back in his bag and pulled out two purple lollipops.

“I just like these too much.”

He held one out to Reggie, but she shook her head, so he unwrapped them and popped both in his mouth.

“Our world is a void of nothingness—no warmth, no sugar, no fun stuff.” He sucked on the lollipop for a minute, savoring the
sweet flavor. “The truth is, if there were a revolving door between this world and ours, I think we’d fuck it all up over
here. We’d turn here into there. We’d lose everything that we crave.”

“And we wouldn’t want
that
,” Reggie said.

Quinn stood and looked thoughtfully at her.

“You know, Halloway, I think you like having me around.”

Reggie’s eyes flashed.

“Sorry. Demons aren’t my type.”

“Right, so geeky guys who follow you like puppy dogs are more your style? I don’t think so. What does Mr. Unrequited have
to say about me, anyway? I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around, armed with a lead pipe and a shovel.”

Reggie flushed.

“Leave Aaron out of this.”

The corners of Quinn’s mouth lifted into a sly grin.

“Wait. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“After what he’s been through—this would distract him from the big picture.”

“So you put him on a need-to-know basis. I like this side of you, Halloway. It’s so… devious.”

“He would kill you if he knew you were still alive.”

“I think you just want me for yourself.”

Quinn stepped closer to Reggie, and she could smell his sweet breath. She was reminded of the first day she spoke to him in
the hall at school. Her heart had pounded in her chest then, and it was pounding now. The gash beneath his eye had started
to heal, but there would always be a scar, as well as the black crisscrosses down his cheek. Yet somehow, he wasn’t hideous.
He’d lost his conventional looks undoubtedly, but they’d been replaced with something striking and dark. His exterior matched
his true self now, the Vour self, and Reggie realized she found that refreshing. It was honest. There was no more pretense
between them, no walls, no masks. It was both a relief and a terror.

She turned her head away.

“You went through hell and lived,” Quinn said softly. “That leaves marks.” He lifted her forearm and lightly touched her skin.
“Marks deeper than these.”

“They’ll heal,” Reggie said.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’ve been dying to know ever since I showed up in your bedroom?”

“And what’s that?”

“What it’s like in the darkness. I’m the only one who understands what you’ve lived through. What you’re living with now.”

Reggie pulled away, but Quinn continued.

“You feel a shadow around you. Inside you. Growing. And it terrifies you. I know what you fear most, Reggie.”

“Stop…”

“Turning into one of us.”

Reggie stepped back, and now she was pressed against the wall. Quinn drew nearer so that he loomed over her. She could feel
his lean but strong body against her own, and she wondered if he noticed how hard she was breathing.

He raised his hand and drew it gently down her cheek. Reggie felt tears springing up and tried to look away, but Quinn turned
her chin upward so that his eyes were looking down into hers.

“The darkness gives you power,” he murmured. His colorless lips were inches from her own. “More power than any human. Don’t
deny it.
Use it
. You and I are more alike than you think.”

Reggie shuddered and pushed him back.

“I will never be like you,” she said through gritted teeth. “You disgust me.” She ran to the edge of the storm drain. The
clouds seemed to be clearing up and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. She hadn’t heard the motorcycles in some time. She pulled
on the grate; it clanged back and forth but held fast. “Unlock it.”

Without another word, Quinn unlocked the gate and swung it open. Reggie dragged her bike out of the storm drain, and Quinn
watched her silently as she sped down the path toward town.

  
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