The Burn (11 page)

There were no lanterns at the bottom of the stairs, only luminous glass orbs set into the sculpted walls, a cool blue light glowing from their depths.

A massive door stood in shadow at the opposite end of the corridor, its surface covered with large metal gears and heavy bolt locks. The doorway to her right, however, was open.

She stepped inside the entrance, gazing over a golden room like her own, only larger and more complex. The symbols here were diagramed together on the floor, forming thousands of mathematical patterns. The symbols along the walls were also different, larger and more prominent along the bulkheads and smaller across the curving surfaces.

An altar appeared in the center of the room. The slender body of a woman lay curled along its surface, a silken veil draped over her naked hip.

Miranda walked forward, approaching the altar cautiously. The shadows whispered to her, their ancient language soft and coaxing in the blue glow of the room.

The woman on the altar didn't move, the slow rhythm of her breathing audible in the stillness. She looked peaceful, her face tucked against her shoulder, the spill of blonde ringlet curls forming a halo around her face.

"Julie," Miranda murmured, reaching down to place her hand on the younger woman's delicate shoulder.

Her gaze passed over a purpling bruise on the back of Julie's neck. Pausing, Miranda frowned, recognizing it as a human bite mark. The teeth did not appear to have broken the skin, but the imprint was deep and distinct.

Miranda glanced over Julie's naked body, the woman's lush breasts pale in the glow of the room, the turn of her hips smooth. There were marks on her arms, the shadow of strong hands, as if she had been held down. Leaning over the young woman, Miranda checked her fingertips, finding dark blood-like matter under the nails.

Julie turned in her sleep, stretching languidly then arching her back with a small murmur of pleasure. She turned on her side again, content and unafraid.

Miranda shook her head, taking a step back.

"Did you imagine that it was rape?" The Necromancer asked coolly from behind her.

Miranda turned, facing him as he materialized from the darkness of the room. "You're a sadistic murderer. Why should you be above rape?"

"I'm not above anything. But their lust is just as intoxicating as their pain, and there is nothing more potent than a combination of the two. They are so powerful in their emotions. They are the envy of the universe in this."

"They?"

"Humans," he said, casting a long glance up her body. "An attractive species, admittedly, blessed with a feast of senses and emotions that ring ripe with consumable energy. But far too frail, their beauty too fleeting, their intelligence too finite to warrant the kind of the protection they have been afforded. They are no longer your kind, beautiful Miranda. You are now of the middle species, the ones who exist between dimensions. You are Rathvam, one of thousands."

"Thousands." She grimaced, her gaze darting toward the door. "I've never seen more than a hundred people here."

The Necromancer shook his head. "I am not referring to the people here. The people of this camp are all human, all of the lesser species. They can never be anything more. Their names are not written in the Gate."

"What are you talking about? Written in the Gate?"

His pale eyes narrowed. "Look closer at these walls, at these symbols. Don't you recognize them for what they are? They are souls, Miranda, Rathvam souls embedded in the metal. You are a goddess, but that is only one class among the middle species. Within these walls, you will find soldiers, philosophers, artists, lovers…gifted beings who now reside here and only here, their souls the life-blood of the Gate."

He raised his hand, drawing her gaze to the heavy bulkhead above them, tracing the symbols that adorned the thick support. "The dimensions of each Rathvam symbol equate to a number. That number is an eternal name and it has power in the entire spectrum of dimensions. It is the place where a Rathvam soul resides, in as many instances as it appears. The sequence of all these numbers, all of these souls, is what defines the Gate itself, its history and its future."

"What?" Miranda breathed.

He granted her a humorless smile. "Difficult for you to understand, I know. But I will attempt to make it as clear as possible. Your mortal appearance here is nothing more than an illusion. Your soul does not inhabit that beautiful human likeness anymore. Your soul, Miranda, is contained in a glittering collection of curves and lines, a symbol that can appear in multiple places and never diminish in strength. You are a goddess, summoned in human form to help me bring forth the enlightenment of mankind."

Miranda took another step back. "I don't believe you."

"Yes, you do."

"I won't help you."

"You do not have the ability to refuse. When the seventh goddess awakens, the Gate will achieve its full power in this world. You will pass back into the metal and you will merge with the Gate once more."

"And you," she murmured, the words sharp with accusation. "What will you do?"

"I will bring the Enlightenment. It is time for humans to remember how truly insignificant they are, even if the lesson is painful."

"How painful?"

"The measure is irrelevant."

"No. Not for me. And not for you either. You were human once too."

"Was I?" he asked, closing the distance between them. "So much that you do not know."

"I know that you have to be stopped," she said, hearing her own anger sharpen the words. "I know that I will do anything to stop you."

"You can do nothing. You cannot kill me. We are both dead already by the laws of this world."

Lifting the dark blue sleeve of his tunic, he extended his arm toward her, showing her the skin that had been sliced through during their struggle in her chamber. The wound was now gone, vanished as if it had never happened, as if she hadn't managed to cut him at all.

Miranda let a harsh breath escape and attempted to step back. The Necromancer grabbed hold of her hand to prevent her, clamping her fingers down where she had injured him. She clenched her teeth, feeling the warmth of his skin under her palm, the muscle and sinew of a man who did not exist.

"There is no stopping me," he said harshly. "It was my hand that preserved your human body and guided your soul out from these golden walls so that Seth could find you. He may control your heart, but I control your memories and your power. I am a god in this world, and not a benevolent one, as we both know. You would do well to remember it, my beautiful Miranda."

His skin chilled under her hand, stinging her where they touched. A flood of images assaulted her, blood and death and war, the Necromancer's ancient past streaming through her soul. She fought against it, crying out as the pain and terror overtook her. She saw herself then, the cuts in her skin, her own life draining away in the cold air, Seth whispering her name.

The Necromancer let her go and she dropped to her knees, breathing hard.

"Seth," she rasped.

"There will be no easy escape for him this time. Not as long as you continue to shine so brightly. He will follow you anywhere, even into death."

"No."

"He has lived so many lives in defiance, resisting the call of the Gate, resisting me whenever I found him, but now it is destiny to return."

"No," she repeated, pushing unsteadily to her feet. "I'll force him to leave. I won't let you turn him into this. I won't let you put his name on these walls."

"You think I put his name here?" he asked, his pale eyes glowing. "Beautiful Miranda, his name was written in the Gate for longer than the earthly sun has burned in its infant sky. This is a battle you've already lost."

She shook her head, unable to reply.

A warm tremor passed through the metal floor grates, the whisper of symbols rising in the corridor. The Necromancer paused, then looked down at her with a knowing smile. "He is here, searching for you."

Miranda grimaced, feeling Seth now, his presence in the Gate solid and distinctive. "Leave him alone."

The Necromancer stepped back into the shadows, a soft smile playing on his lips as he disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

The metal corridor stretched out before him, its tight walls and shadowed bulkheads shining faintly in the lantern light. Seth ducked inside, passing under heavy, riveted archways, his gaze narrowing on the row of compartment doors ahead.
Where are you, Miranda?

The hallway seemed to grow darker and colder, a gentle breeze threading past him. The whisper of voices echoed from the walls, the words warped and unrecognizable. He turned, searching for the source, but the corridor stood empty behind him.

Clenching his teeth, he focused his attention back on the compartment doors, hoping like hell that he would find her alive and well behind one of them.

He'd tried not to think of what had happened to her after she'd disappeared. The depth of her vulnerability cut him to the core, the madness of what she'd endured. It made him sick, anxious to get her as far away from the Black Rock Desert as possible, as quickly as possible.

He pressed his lips together, pausing at the first door. It had been latched shut, a series of wheels and locks securing it in place. Seth shook his head, glancing over the complexity of the mechanisms. They were far more suited to the interior of a bank vault than an inhabited structure.

"Who built you?" he murmured, reaching out to touch the lock. "Why do all of this?"

A hiss issued from the metal. A door at the end of the hallway unlatched and swung open, spilling a faint gold light into the darkness.

"Seth…" A whispered voice spoke his name.

He narrowed his gaze and walked toward it, passing under the corridor's large curving braces and seams of dark rivets, ignoring the rows of intricate markings along the walls.

A chill of familiarity passed through him as he approached the door, as if somehow knew what was on the other side.

"No," Miranda called from the close space behind him. "Seth, don't."

He turned to see her standing there, her red hair wild and loose over her shoulders, her eyes bright in the thin glow of the lanterns. She wore a short dress of glittering braids and gold chain mail, the metal shining hot against her skin. She drew a dagger from a sheath at her side, deftly flipping it from the handle to the blade, as if she intended to throw it.

"Miranda. Jesus—"

"Don't touch the door. Come toward me. It's not safe for you here."

"Not safe for
me
?" he repeated in disbelief, leaving the door behind and walking toward her. "Christ, I went crazy lookin' for you last night."

She shifted her balance from foot to foot, grimacing as he approached. "You have to leave. It's not safe."

"I know. I know that."

He drew her close, slipping his hands into her hair and leaning down to kiss her. She was warm, her lips soft and yielding under his. She broke away with a harsh sound, shaking her head. "Now," she said, pulling him down the corridor toward the light of day.

They crossed from the darkness of the Gate into the white glare of the desert. Miranda led him across a wooden deck and down a series of stairs to the soft ground below. She didn't slow her pace or glance over her shoulder once, negotiating a zigzagging path through the tents and out of the camp as she headed for the crowded heat of the playa.

In the full sunlight, she seemed to catch fire, the copper red of her hair blazing, a faint shimmer of gold warm on her skin. Her beauty was surreal, and yet they were surrounded by people in masks and sequins, painted skin and exotic costumes.

"We're clear," he said at length, resisting her for the first time. "It's okay. We're clear."

She came to a stop, casting an uncertain glance back at him, then at the temple of the Rathvam in the distance.

"We're safe."

A motorized flying carpet rumbled past them, rap music thumping from its speakers as a line of belly dancers tossed beaded necklaces to people walking in the sand. Alien looking kites dotted the blue sky overhead, streaming bright strands of iridescent color against the watery sweep of clouds. Hundreds of bicyclers pedaled along in the dust.

Miranda shook her head, her gaze narrowed on the towering sculptures and art pieces littered across the playa, their forms rising like mirages in the heat. "This is why he came here, because no one suspects, nothing stands out. No one thinks anything of the Gate, or the people worshipping it. It's just another attraction, a thing that lures our fears and desires to the surface, our destruction hidden in plain sight"

"Miranda," he said softly.

She looked at him, her green eyes glistening under the bright sweep of her lashes, her breath drawn through her teeth. In her hand, the dagger glinted in the sun.

"You trusted me last night," he reminded her. "You can trust me now. Just come with me. Talk to me."

"You have to leave this desert. That's the only thing we have to talk about."

"Okay," he said, slanting a thoughtful look at her from under his hat. "That's a start."

M
iranda followed Seth back to his camp, walking briefly in the dusty wake of a double-decker party bus decorated with jungle vines and stuffed animal parrots. Its passengers stood on the roof and whistled at her from above, waving before driving off across the pale sand.

Themed villages spread out between the tents before them, offering exotic worlds to explore, giant domes and temple buildings, metal towers and catwalks, neon bars and hookah lounges carpeted with Oriental rugs and dotted with hanging silver lanterns.

Seth clasped onto her hand, drawing her into a garden of gigantic fabric lotus flowers, their pearlescent petals open to the hot sunlight. Miranda ducked into the colored shade between the blooms, holding onto him as he navigated a tight path through the labyrinth.

She shook her head, grimacing as they emerged from under the arching flower petals and stepped onto the dry silt of another road. The dust stung her throat and her eyes, dry and acidic in the heat. There was no refuge here, no mercy from the baking desert and eternal sky, no break from the assault of color and carnival.