The One We Feed (35 page)

“They took her
from you, I know. You miss her don’t you? Reesa, the girl?”

The one in my
lap turned and looked at me.

“I know where
she is.”

The two at my
feet drew themselves up and listened.

“The tiniest
of you, yet the strongest. We must find her.”

My voice was
calm, with not a hint of magic in it, and yet it was as if I were a beacon,
they were so intent.

“Can you
fight, be clear-headed and purposeful?”

The largest of
them, the one whose face had been split in half, leaned forward toward me and
nuzzled my neck. As a human, he had probably been at least six feet tall, built
like a line-backer. Now he was lean and wiry, with a precision glare and a
vice-like jaw. Now, he was unkillable.

I sat up. They
helped me to my newly transformed feet as a group, though it was unnecessary. I
thanked them each with an embrace, or a kiss, or a glance, and they listened.

“When they
check on us,” I said, “lift me up. It’s too far to jump alone. When I’m up, I’ll
pull you up after me.”

The large one
blinked at me and looked up at the hatch as if considering.

“Don’t worry
about the Sirens. They won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

A small,
probably female Rakshasi made a sound like a choking cough. I turned in time to
feel her hand clamp around my elbow. Her other hand was over her mouth. She
coughed again and slid a long claw between her teeth. I shushed her and pulled
her chin down as if she were a toddler and I was a dental hygienist. The tiny
bud of a tongue was growing in the black lacquer of her throat.

I smiled at
her. “You’ll be able to talk soon. If you want to, that is.”

She lifted my
hand to her forehead and dipped a few times, like some kind of improvised bow.

“You’ll
all
be all right again, soon,” I said to the others who were testing their own
mouths. “I could probably take it all away if I wanted to, but I thought you
might like to see what strength feels like? Yes?”

A low growl
rumbled around me. I could not help but give a dark chuckle.

“Rest,” I
whispered. “Heal. When it is time, I will tell you. Soon, it will all be over.”

They backed
away from me, to the only portion of the room that had been organized. A great
pile of debris had been built like a wall, creating a kind of nook. Remnants of
clothes and hair lined the bottom. Like a nest of rats, they lay down together,
end to end, skin on skin, and closed their eyes.

As they slept,
I went to work.

First, I
tested the limits of their strength. It was greater still than that of the
other immortals I had met, which in many ways was simply the extremity a human
body could reach if it had to. The Rakshasa musculature was fundamentally
different, with larger belly, tighter attachments, greater resistance. I
crouched low and sprang up many times, so close to the hatch I could almost
touch it.

I paced around
the tank, thinking. Each time I had acquired a gift, I had been eerily sure
that I knew what it was, whether in vision or reality. A few times, I had even
duplicated the ability
before
I had come into contact with the blood of
the host. I had seen Malcolm moving through our room before our first and last
meeting. I had evinced red eyes before I had ever even met a Rakshasa. More
recently, with Devlin, I had come up with a strategy he had applauded that
stood up to the scrutiny of his gifts when indeed I had possessed them. Even
the
jhana
itself seemed nothing more than an amalgam of so many types of
insight. Perhaps time had been moving backward my entire life, from the first vision
of Eva’s suicide. Perhaps I would become this Lilith creature, because I
already had been. Not fate, but something like it. The more gifts I acquired,
the more “complete” I became, and that completeness had caused some kind of
permanent, time-transcending gift.

As I stood
there, feeling each muscle fiber flex and tug, I knew it must be so.

What if the
imminent acquisition itself was enough of an impact to the stream of my
consciousness that it sent waves backward, through me? What if I knew the gifts
before I had acquired them, precisely
because
I was
about
to
acquire them? The other timelines I met with at the Crossroads could pass
echoes of the other gifts with them. If it was true, and I was close to
acquiring Reesa’s gift, then I could slide in and out of the Rakshasa body
whenever and wherever I chose, just like her.

I went inward,
as I might whenever attempting to sink into the
jhana.
I had taken a
mental accounting of my own body many times in the past. Perhaps it was as
simple as knowing the difference between the two forms.

It took less
time than I expected. Before long, I was growing and retracting the claws,
something that felt a bit like a slow-motion cartilage piercing, feeling
sensation where there existed no topical nerves to report such things. Then the
teeth; then the eyes. Soon, I could put myself into their shape and pull myself
from it over and over, feel bone reset, then break down, time and again, until
it became second nature, until I knew it was feasible and controllable.

Then I began
to wonder if Mara’s gift could be duplicated. I was not leaving this place
until I had taken it from him. It was too malicious a power to let run freely
through the world. So why had I never demonstrated his gift? Why had my temper
run amuck and my eyes gone red?

Nature rises
in defense of him.

Maybe it
wasn’t about temporal proximity, but necessity. Maybe I had exactly what I
needed when I needed it. About to face a pit full of monsters? It made sense
that I could mimic their leader, and not their master. And who, but a weak
person, would ever need to use a gift like Mara’s?

Smiling, I lay
down on the fetid mounds of human remains and pictured Kali in her dance. Had
it shook the earth? Had the ground split in rebellion and swallowed her victims
in the end?

I was the result
of an evolutionary equation, a product of the earth and its natural progress,
then nothing in existence could stop me. If I wanted it to, the earth should
protect me, respond to me. It had happened before, at the Vihara, and, if
possible, I would make it happen again.

It was just
another form of insight, to see fault lines, read tectonics, locate a
subterranean cavern and the perfect harmonics to make it quake.

I sank into
the ooze and muck, imagined the ground tugging me, pulling me deeper. It was not
fear of an imminent demise that summoned the tremors, it was need. Right now, I
needed it. I reached and reached, imagined crevasses, sinkholes, deep chasms
and whole layers of loose stria, until at last, I knew the secret.

Like the
jhana,
it was simply a communion. One’s mind and body everywhere at once. The
jhana
seemed an exploration of the realities of others, the blissful state was an
experience of all that could exist; and this was all that did exist, in
marvelous diversity, astounding beauty, and perfect grace. Not designed, but
evolved. Grown, block upon block, step upon step, complexity upon complexity,
until the wealth of nature was open to us. We were its children. There was no
boundary there.

Joy filled me.
To be so connected with everything around me was new and amazing. To hear a pin
drop a thousand miles away, in the ripples and echoes that impacted the world,
was incredible. There was no hatred, no resistance, no sense of right or wrong,
just a desire for it to go on forever.

I reached and
pulled, and something deep in my chest felt a tremendous pressure. There was a
sound like a rushing in my ears, and the ground beneath me trembled.

Come and get
it.

I rose from my
resting place and gathered the others. The food and sleep had done them good. Their
faces were less stricken, more aware, and they walked mostly upright.

“It’s time,” I
said, and more than a few of them appeared to smile, their fangs slick and
dripping, their tongues lolling.

Standing in
the center of the tank, I raised my arms above my head and beckoned. At first
the ground rumbled slightly, until the rumbling began to resonate, to impact
itself, to roar with movement. The dirt beneath us, around us, lurched to the
left and then the right.

I lowered my
arms. All was still.

Moments ticked
by. With Petula’s gift I could see them approaching. At the first sign of any
seismic disturbance, the first protocol of an underground prison would be to
check on the horrible monsters you didn’t want getting out. There were three of
them, two Sirens and an Arhat, with flashlights, walking carefully down the
hallway. I had shaken the compound so badly the wiring had failed. Soon the
generators would reset and Jinx would have a way in.

As they neared
the vault door, I lifted my arms again. An aftershock swept through the
compound as if a huge serpent had rolled through the earth beneath it. The
concrete of the hallway buckled in several places. The three caretakers lost
their balance and were thrown against the wall. Hurling caution to the wind,
they worked at the vault door until it came open, and I shot back into my body
with a spinal jerk.

“Now!”  

The Rakshasa stacked
in a pyramid, climbing on each other’s shoulders and backs until they were
nearly ten feet high. It was all I needed. I climbed, slipping on the fluids
that covered them. Hands shot out and steadied me. As the hatch clicked and
creaked open, I gained the shoulders of the smallest, and the jailors were
within my grasp.

A face peered
down at me, but there was no light from within, no light from above. A
flashlight beam swung inward, just in time to spotlight my malevolent visage.

“Gentlemen,” I
said. With one great surge of energy, I hurtled through the air and, in an
instant, stood among them.

I saw the
sheen of light along the barrel of a gun. A muzzle flashed in front of me. They
were blind, but thanks to them I wasn’t. I grabbed the closest one and, with
dizzying strength, drew him in front of me like a shield. The bullet struck his
back. Blood from his mouth spattered my face, and I knew he was a Siren.

Dropping his
body, I moved to the second form in the darkness. It stared around wildly,
unable to tell where the danger lay. I slashed my arm through the air, and
claws like razors opened his throat. Vital fluids splashed the wall behind me
and the last man to my left. There was a shriek, but I did not hear it. What I
heard was the tally.

This one was
like Ursula, a truth-sayer.

The flashlight
wheeled yet again, cutting through the air toward me, but I was no longer
there. I was against the far wall, watching the last man reach for his radio. Backing
up to the wall, I braced myself against the concrete and, with all the force I
possessed, jumped forward. I struck him so hard that we hit the wall and his
head smashed like a ripe fruit. Sticky juices caked fingers as I pulled them
from around his throat. I fought the urge to lick them clean, but only just.

Behind me,
from the pit, a cry reminded me of my task. I locked my knee around the hatch
handle and leaned in. Within moments, I was not alone; others were climbing out
over my torso, grabbing claws and arms, pulling and wrenching until the tiny
containment room was full of us.

“On the other
side of that door,” I said, “is a long hallway.”

The hatch was
slammed shut. One of the Rakshasa took a seat on it and leaned close to my face
to watch me speak.

“The barracks
are on the right, the laboratory to the left. There are others like us and
people being kept prisoner. Everyone else is fair game, just be sure that there
is a lot of blood.”

The largest
one snarled.

“Reesa is in a
room in the laboratory, but she’s asleep. I will wake her.”

As if they
needed nothing else, several of them turned on the door and attempted to break
it down with force. When this failed, one of them stepped forward and examined
the lock and, as if recalling something from years gone by, lifted the latch. One
wink saw them streaming down the hall, bashing cameras and walls and anything
else that got in their way.

I followed in
their wake. They were true to my words. Immortals were slain or injured beyond
repair so that I could take their gifts, while the Rakshasa that had not known
me were left to make my acquaintance. I turned each one with a bite, and, as it
looked on me with eyes that understood, I let it go to help its brothers.

Most of them
had gone directly to the sleeping quarters of Mara’s minions. Screams rang out
like a chorus. Sirens were making their own death music. The sounds of the
compound were the sounds of hell. My battle music.

Lights flickered.
Cracked computer monitors buzzed and flashed. I stepped on broken glass and
shattered cement, my feet crunching as if on bones.

I picked my
way slowly. She was there, just ahead of me, waiting to awaken. It would not do
to be premature.