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THE NEVERVERSE
A MEMORY OF EMPIRE
“Youth is a blunder; Manhood a struggle, Old Age a regret.”
~ Benjamin Disraeli.
Prologue
Clenching his side to slow the bleeding, William desperately sought a hiding place in his vast library, but not for himself, for there was no place he could hide from those who pursued him.
No, there would be no escape this time.
Gritting his teeth and all but ignoring the sounds of breaking in the hall outside, William stumbled through the densely packed shelves, working carefully not to leave any telltale signs of blood on his precious books. But it was a nearly futile effort. He was dying, his life trickling away with every heartbeat, like the sand through an hourglass.
Coughing and fighting to stop his narrowing vision, he absently wiped the blood from his mouth and staggered to a stop. Snatching a green leather-bound book from its bed, he smashed the ornamental lock holding it closed on the edge of a shelf, then shuffled back the way he came.
There will be no escape for us this time, William. Oto was right. We should have taken them all to Iralia and given them to Ilisa. But Zirana and her twin must remain hidden and protected at all costs, old friend. Damn them all.
Iralia should have been a sanctuary, but Ilisa and her sister would have used them all no less so than their grandfather would have used them. Gods, Oto, there is more at stake here than just Ar’liana’s children. Not that you know who they all are... Ar’liana made sure of that, and now Alus’s daughter is tangled up in this mess.
Grimacing at the pain and his thinking, William tried to shove away thoughts of the dangerous half-Ellin woman, Ar’liana. She no longer mattered. Only protecting her children, kept hidden from Er’drin, the last Ellin Emperor, was all that mattered to him now.
And now The Council of Worlds is looking for them. I am sure of it, Oto. The sounds of breaking items floors below drew a fresh growl, as he staggered through the shelves.
“Damn them. They have broken through,” William cursed, worrying at the clasps holding the book shut. With a snap and a sigh of relief, the last came free, revealing a space hidden inside. Hand trembling and vision blurring, he dumped a locket into a silvery bag and shoved the book onto a random shelf.
“The Council and their Black Hand won’t have it, Estellia, or Ar’liana’s girls. Damn you and your sister to hell. These girls are precious beyond accounting, and The Council of Worlds will simply destroy them all,” William snarled, staggering back toward a spiral stair and pulling a twin of the locket deposited in the book from his coat. Placing a trembling hand on it, he whispered to it, then wrapped it around his wrist.
“No time to secure you,” William muttered, grimacing at the pain in his chest, and all but dragging himself up the stairs to the library’s mezzanine floor and its large oak desk. The effort was monumental and took nearly all of his strength.
“Where are you, man? I have little time left,” William coughed, fumbling a sheet of paper from a draw and scribbling on it, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Finished, William slumped to the floor to stare at the library’s stained-glass dome. The distant sound of a fading bell earned only a ghost of a smile as his vision faded into the tree and sun of Iralia, picked out in the glass dome high above.
“Oto,” William breathed and fell silent.
***
Frowning at the viscous pool of red spreading from William, Oto crouched and closed his death-glazed eyes. “Messy William. You should have foreseen this,” Oto whispered, then growled in frustration at the sound of raised voices and breaking in the hall outside drawing closer.
William was dead, but his task would be completed, nonetheless.
Securing the devices from The Council was all that mattered, and he had little time to do it.
Gods, you should have called on me days ago, but where is the girl, William? Where did you hide her? The sharp crash of a nearby door bursting open prompted Oto to scoop a watch-sized object up before it became stranded in the expanding pool of blood. Depositing the object in a bag of some silvery cloth, he pursed his lips regarding the deceased man before he shoved it into his suit jacket and pulled a crumpled note from William’s hand.
“You should have been a lot more cautious, old friend. The Black Hand would have found you eventually, no matter which reality you hid yourself and the girl in,” Oto whispered, scanning the message scrawled on the blood-smeared paper.
“Ellin names...? Who are they, William, and what are you trying to tell me, old friend?” Oto hissed, and shoved the note into his jacket to check the old man’s pockets. Eyes narrowed, he frantically searched the corpse, but gave up in frustration.
There was nothing but the sheet of paper and the locket.
“Twice damn you, William. There should have been two gates!” Oto shouted, no longer caring if he were discovered. Growling at the sound of running feet outside, he cast his eyes around the library, but there was no time to search it.
“Where have you hidden it, William?” Oto hissed in frustration to the sound of axes crashing into the doors, their sharp blows echoing off the tall glass windows and stone walls.
Damn it, I told you we should have taken her to Iralia. She already had the talent until you interfered and blanked her mind. Ar’liana would be furious if she knew you did that. Emitting a frustrated sigh, Oto pulled a silver object from his pocket. Tapping it twice, he vanished from the library with a pop of rushing air as the doors burst open in a shower of splinters.
***
Two bulky blond-haired men shoved the doors aside, fire axes in hand, and cursed; just catching Oto vanish.
Glowering at the empty space, they made way for a dark-haired woman to enter. She would have been considered remarkably beautiful if it were not for the hard cast and air of danger she projected. The woman made a disgusted sound at the empty library; her face a mask of utter disdain, pale blue eyes fixed on-the-spot Oto occupied only moments before.
“Varen, or whatever you call yourself now. I should have known they would send you,” Estelle hissed, her voice dripping with contempt. In a swirl of black silks, she waved a dismissive hand at the men. “Remy! Marcel! Dispose of the body and seal this place, then summon the girl that Millicent has!” Estelle hissed, sweeping from the room.
“Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head.”
~ Tad Williams
Chapter One
A gilded cage
Lost in thought, Jessica absently watched the water pass beyond the stonework, carrying little leaves and flotsam to an uncertain destiny. The delicate face of a young woman, light auburn hair shifting in the ripples and eddies reflected back. The ever-shifting image drew little more than an absent smile at how the light cream of her long dress, blurred and blended into the buildings and trees, likewise captured on the surface.
Yet, Jessica did not really see the boats and buildings that lined the riverside of the Seine outside the only home she truly loved. She was simply too caught up in turning her father’s words over in her mind to notice much at all, honestly.
It all seemed so sudden, and frankly, quite unfair.
“Damn you, I was happy here,” Jessica hissed, balling her fist around the already crumpled letter. Frowning at it, she tossed the crumpled paper into the river and drank in the view.
I may not see this again for a very long time, she thought with a frustrated sigh, watching the letter drift away with the other flotsam.
She had come to love Paris. It felt right here, a place she belonged to in a way Jessica never thought she could in London. For the first time she felt she fitted in, but father had called her stepmother Millicent home, and as much as she wished, they had ignored her pleas to stay. Well, Millicent had, and if her father knew Jessica’s feeling on the matter, she had no clue.
At her father’s orders, she was to go to Posafol, nestled in the Rhône-Alpes, to stay with her uncle and aunt. Or so she had been told. Honestly, Jessica had not seen her father in years since he had sent her to Paris to study.
“But I have made friends here, mother, and I should like to stay. Eloise would have me,” Jessica had argued again just this past evening, to little effect.
Well, Jessica argued as much as she safely could with her stern stepmother, but the woman was having none of it.
“You will do as you are bid, child. You are not yet eighteen, and neither are you married. With your father absent, you will be obedient, and I will hear no more of it,” Millicent growled, and that was the end.
Jessica knew well enough to remain silent. Millicent was in no way averse to slapping her, having found that out the hard way when father first started seeing the woman. Although try as she may, the memory of when she last saw her father and when this woman took over her care seemed oddly hazy, much like a frosted window on a foggy winter day.
Well, at least I do not have to go back to London, dreary old place that it is, Jessica thought with a half-smile. The sound of a young porter dragging a cart over the cobbles broke her musings and attention from the rippling water.
“La calèche est arrivée pour vous, Mademoiselle,” he called out in rapid French. Jessica flashed a smile at the young man as she turned.
“Merci monsieur, auriez-vous la gentillesse de prendre mes bagages?” Jessica replied, moving toward an arriving carriage. The porter gave Jessica an appraising look and grinned as he picked up the cases and placed them on a small hand truck.
“Your Français is good, no?” the porter asked in slightly broken English. Jessica simply nodded at the young man, returning the grin.
She would miss the city, but she was still in France. That has to count for something, Jessica assured herself with a little frown of worry betraying her firm thought. She could not help but feel uneasy at the prospect of spending time with her aunt and uncle. Jessica had not seen her uncle, William, since she was a very young girl, and that memory was as hazy as the rest.
But as for my Aunt Estelle...? Well, I honestly have no true memory of an Aunt Estelle, Jessica thought, working to shove aside the feelings of uncertainty.
All too soon, Jessica found herself in a private compartment on a train bound for Lyon, the little knot of worry growing tighter. Pushing the worry away as best she could, she gazed dejectedly out the window while the train pulled away from the Gare de Lyon and traveled through the city. Drinking in the last glimpses of her beloved Paris, Jessica caught a tiny glimpse of the café she so loved as the train moved along the river.
Forcing a smile, she wondered if she would ever chat with her Camille again while Claudia tried to play the piano, and badly at that, only to have Louis finally chase her back to the kitchen. She thought of the young man, Lucien, whom her mother disapproved of, and the flowers he would give her each day. Not to mention the stolen nights when Camille snuck into her room.
I think mother sent me to uncle to keep me away from socializing, Jessica thought with a rueful laugh. So, with the last vestiges of Paris proper dissolving into the surrounding countryside, Jessica closed her eyes, a sense of loss filling her. I shall come back here and stay one day, Jessica swore, feeling that sense of dread once again tickling at the edge of her thoughts and darkening her smile.
***
The journey to Posafol, and to her aunt and uncle’s Château estate in the surrounding foothills of the Alps, took Jessica three uncomfortable days.
On the morning of the fourth, Jessica found herself on a platform in Porcieu-Amblagnieu, still an hour or more from her destination and completely alone. Feeling tired, disheveled, and wholly frustrated, Jessica frowned at the platform and no party to great her. So, as the last of the passengers trickled away and the coal smoke tang faded along with the sounds of the train, Jessica sat heavily on her travel chest.
“Damn them. And damn you, Father. Did you even bother to tell them I was coming?” Jessica growled, folding her arms in frustration.
An hour later and still alone in an unfamiliar town, Jessica passed the time in a dream world, head in her hands perched on her travel chest.
Startled by a sudden movement, Jessica looked up to see two bulky men accompanying a tall, striking, dark-haired woman dressed in black silk. The woman came to a stop just short of Jessica, appraising her with open hostility. With a sniff and a sigh, it was apparent that what she found she found truly lacking, indeed.
“You are Lady Jessica Munroe, are you not?” The woman asked in a haughty tone. Jessica regarded the woman for a moment, honestly unsure of what to say after such a long wait. In hindsight, it would have been best if she had spoken immediately, and on further pondering later, locked in her room, she should have simply fled.
“Stand when I am speaking to you, girl!” the woman barked at her.
Jessica immediately scrambled to her feet, a mixture of puzzlement and worry etched onto her face.
“Where are your manners? The gods in heaven, Millicent has taught you none,” the woman spat. Jessica looked a little confused at the woman’s words before she suddenly curtsied to her.
Gods...? Jessica thought and quickly shoved it away. The woman, who Jessica had an awful feeling might in fact be her aunt Estelle, made a disgusted noise and waved at the men to bring Jessica’s trunk and cases.
“You will show me more respect, Jessica, or you will learn to. I can assure you of that!” snapped her aunt, biting each word off in a harsh staccato as she walked away. “Come. It is a long journey to the estate, and you have wasted enough of my time today,” Estelle hissed, glancing back with hostile eyes. Jessica thought it wise not to point out she had in fact been waiting for an hour herself, and for that matter, on a platform in an unknown town.
On further reflection, the wait and not mentioning it were possibly the only things that went right that morning. With another curtsy to her aunt, which the woman did not see, Jessica followed quickly behind.
***
The last leg of Jessica’s journey did not feel as long as her aunt made out, although saying so would also have been a grave mistake. So, Jessica remained silent, trying to keep her worried thoughts from showing on her face while the carriage rocked over the cobbled lanes.
Estelle said little for almost the full hour it took to get to the Château and simply sat regarding her with a disapproving frown.
“Your dress. You will change it to black and remain in black until I tell you otherwise, child,” Estelle suddenly snapped.
Jessica frowned at her aunt’s order and at being referred to as a child.
I am seventeen and hardly a child, she thought.
It was a moment of defiance Jessica instantly regretted when she was suddenly and quite soundly slapped. “Never frown at me again! And do not question, girl. Just do as you are bid. The gods in heaven, your stepmother was right; you do indeed need better discipline, that is abundantly clear,” Estelle snarled disgustedly.
Her cheek stinging and that dark pit of worry only growing deeper, Jessica smoothed her face of as much emotion as she could and lowered her eyes.
Good God, where have you sent me, Father?
Pulling up the courage, and fully expecting another tirade and slapping, Jessica did exactly the thing she had just been told not to... she asked a question.
“Aunt Estelle, I mean no disrespect, but may I inquire the reason why I must wear black?” Jessica said, working to keep her voice as meek as possible.
Estelle regarded her with an icy stare before she sniffed and looked out the carriage window. “Your uncle is dead, girl, and you will show respect while in my house,” Estelle answered flatly.
Jessica glanced at the floor to hide her reaction. She did not really remember her uncle all that well, and if she were honest with herself, the revelation of his passing was not the reason for her hiding her emotions.
I have no desire to spend time with this woman. She frightens me, Jessica thought, biting her lip and balling her fists to stop her hands trembling.
***
With an odd mixture of trepidation and relief, Jessica tried to ignore the glowering presence of her aunt when she spied the Château gates through the trees, signaling the end of her worrying journey.
In her mind, the Château was a fairytale image made of stone, catching glimpses of it through the trees as the carriage drove through the substantial estate grounds. Lofty towers pointed at the sky, festooned with ivy and climbing roses that crept along the walls and around the tall windows.
The structure was as imposing as it was beautiful. From the gate to the well-groomed garden and lawns lay row upon row of grapevines, a distance of some three hundred or more feet, she mused, although it could have been more. Grandstands of oak and elm trees bordered the northern reaches of the estate, folds in the curtain of trees affording glimpses of broken towers of some long-deserted castle, peeking through the branches.
Jessica even glimpsed an ornamental pond through the hanging roses and hedges to the south of the Château. Yet things still felt off. The place seemed empty, closed, and unwelcoming, despite being well kept.
The vacant stairs, devoid of maids and porters, caused Jessica to frown in consternation when the carriage rolled to a stop.
Why is there no staff waiting? Surely, they would have seen us arrive at the gate? Jessica pondered, a deeper sense of foreboding tightening in her chest.
She found it more than a little odd that no Château staff waited to greet her when the carriage arrived outside the grand stairs. When she had stayed at her uncle Eustace’s Château in Normandy last winter, the house staff had greeted her lined up all in a row, dressed in crisp uniforms. But here at her aunt’s there was not even a footman to open the carriage door.
“You will be in my study as soon as you have changed. And do not tarry, girl. I will not abide laziness,” snapped Estelle, and swept up the stairs in a swirl of black silk, a thunderstorm looking for a mountain to crash against.
Jessica just sighed and followed the woman. This place is like a beautiful web with a nasty black spider nested in the middle, Jessica thought, and smiled at it, suppressing a little giggle at her aunt vanishing into the Château.
After a long climb through a maze of hallways, Jessica found herself on the uppermost floor, marveling at the room presented to her while two bulky blond-haired men unceremoniously dumped her luggage on the floor.
They had an unwholesome feeling she could not quite place, which had her shivering despite the warm sun. Rolling her eyes, Jessica dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the room.
It has just been a fraught day, and I am out of sorts, is all, Jessica mused, casting her eyes around her accommodations.
The space was possibly the first positive thing to happen this day; the thought eliciting a little smile. Although on later reflection she had to wonder at how naïve she could truly be. It was expansive, airy and well-appointed, but best of all, it connected to an extensive library and study.
Well, at least I will not be starved for reading. Eliciting a little laugh at the world of words, Jessica closed the library doors and set about changing into the only black dress she owned. It was a fussy affair of brocade silk and lace, but it had a small matching hat and veil.
Nestled under the dress in a compartment that held her boots and shoes, Jessica took out the little dagger Camille had gifted her in Paris.
“Not all men are safe, Jess, or some women, for that matter,” Camille whispered, kissing her softly the night before she was to leave.
Turning it in her hand, Jessica placed it with the dress and quickly changed, finally strapping it to her lower leg just above the boot top where Camille had told her to. For reasons she could not quite place, Jessica felt the need to wear it. Not that she actually knew how to use it, but she felt better for having it close. So, with a deep breath and balling her fists to calm her nerves, she exited the room in search of her aunt’s study.
***
An hour later, eyes red from the tears and a little too sore to sit comfortably, Jessica knew now why the maid who guided her to her aunt’s study had given her a sympathetic look. To the sound of the lock clicking after being unceremoniously pushed through the door, Jessica frantically tried all the doors in the library, thinking to escape.
It mattered not where…
Just not here, back to the station maybe... or anyplace else would be better, Jessica screamed, her mind in a panic as she tried the last door... but they were all locked.
It would seem she would stay in this room for however long her aunt deemed the punishment would last.
Furrowing her brow, she made an exasperated sound. Honestly, Jessica thought the conversation in her aunt’s study had started out reasonably civil, all things considered. But it was the extensive list of rules that had been the Achilles' heel to her thoughts of freedom.
Jessica, quite by accident in her opinion, made the mistake of questioning one, to which she was summarily and soundly caned for doing so. But that was not the worst of it. The woman had thrashed her again, when Jessica had been just a fraction too slow in curtsying and apologizing for questioning.
I have to get away from here. I think she actually enjoyed hurting me. The thought was as repulsive as it was disturbing to her. Still unable to sit for long thanks to the stinging, she sighed and narrowed her eyes at the corners of the room and the grand windows.
There must be a way out of here, she thought. I have nothing better to do, so I may as well try. Moving to the windows, Jessica’s heart sank when she noticed they were all nailed shut. Even if they were not, she was on the upper floor, so how would she ever get down? With a hollow pit forming inside, Jessica tried the doors in the library once again, noting they were also nailed shut.
The woman planned to lock me in here all along. Good God, Father, what did I do for you to send me here? Jessica pondered, her heart racing as a sickening fear rose inside at the reality of being locked away.
She was trapped in a pretty little cage with no indication of how long they would keep her here, or indeed if she would ever be free again.
And to think, I thought this room was the best thing to happen today.
Struggling to push down the fear, Jessica went in search of pen and paper in her luggage, but found it all missing. All her precious memories of Paris gone, her diary and books vanished along with them.
Livid, Jessica slammed the lid shut. Estelle had left her with only the clothes she stood in and an empty trunk. Lowering herself to the floor with a look of utter despair, Jessica cried. When the storm slowly ebbed away, she snorted a rueful laugh at the naivety of a letter ever reaching her father, even if she had found her pen and ink.
***
It could have been hours later, or much less, when the door’s lock rattled, a key turning in it. Jessica laughed openly when she realized there was not a single clock in any of the rooms, although the slightly hysterical edge to her laughter was more of a concern than the lack of any time-keeping device.
With a click and a squeak, the door opened to admit the two burly men escorting a maid carrying a cloth-covered tray. The warm smell of fresh bread and broth filling the room had Jessica’s tummy reminding her of just how hungry she truly was.
Well, at least Estelle will not starve me, Jessica thought, snorting a bitter laugh at the idea, and earning a hostile look from one of the men.
Quickly placing the tray on a small table by the door, the maid cast a frightened glance at the men and all but dashed through the door.
Ignoring the maid, the man who gave her a black look leered at Jessica. He had a frighteningly hungry look in his eyes that caused her to cross her arms protectively over her chest. It is no wonder the maid left so quickly.
With a smile that would not have been amiss on a jackal, he locked the door as he left. Estelle sent two of you to escort a maid? How could any of you deem me such a grave threat of escape? And God, that man! Jessica shook her head and shuddered in disgust before walking to the table.
The man seemed hungry in a deeply disturbing way.
Having spent much of the afternoon lost in thought, sitting perched on the wide windowsill of her pretty cage, Jessica had given little thought to the library, and least of all food. And a cage it was, as far as she was concerned…
A pretty little gilded one, but one, nonetheless.
Twitching back the cloth, she snorted at the meager fare hidden underneath. Yes, Estelle would feed her, but that would be about all. Yet the soup smelled wonderful, tasted marvelous, and the bread was warm and fresh.
With her predicament forgotten for the moment, at the realization of how hungry she was, Jessica set about resolving at least that small problem.
Meal finished, and if not satisfied, at least much less hungry, Jessica sighed and left the table for the library.
Well, I have nothing better to do, and moping on a windowsill is not helping. I have, at least, many books and devices in the study to explore.
There was even a telescope, but unless she could get a window open, it would be useless, Jessica thought, and laughed openly at the thought of using the device. If I could get a window open, the least of my thoughts would be to use it. The bitter laugh that came when she thought of it worried Jessica a little. How do I stop from going mad in here, if I am to be locked away for any lengthy time? The thought drew a broad smile as she cast her gaze around the shelves. “Well, books of course, silly,” Jessica exclaimed out loud, and paused when a new and unwelcome worry bloomed in her head.
“Good lord, I am talking to myself already, and it has not even been a full day,” Jessica said, and rolled her eyes at the irony of having just spoken it out loud and headed for the closest shelves.
Jessica could only marvel at the expansive library. Split into two levels, it contained books and display cabinets in abundance.
“Good God, my room is a cupboard compared to this space,” she whispered in awe of the silent cathedral of books. The lower, and indeed, the upper library held dense rows of shelves taller than Jessica. Although at a hair over five foot six, she was hardly a tall woman, Jessica mused, noting little ladders down the rows would make getting to the highest shelves a non-issue.
Running her hands along the spines of the leather and cloth-bound books while wandering the shelves toward the center, they elicited little wisps of dust that swirled and sparkled in the shafts of late afternoon sun.
Glancing up through the oval-shaped opening to the upper floor containing a large writing desk and reading stand, Jessica smiled at the great stained-glass dome flooding the room with natural light. But it was the wrought-iron spiral staircase and banister that nearly took her breath away. They were wonderful works of art, having been shaped to resemble vines and roses creeping along the edge of the upper floor to trail down the spiral staircase. Jessica could almost smell the blooms lovingly picked out in red and white.
High above her, suspended on thin wires, models of airships and fantastical flying machines hung displayed, as if in flight. Pausing to turn a globe of some fantastical world in the middle of the space, Jessica’s lips twitched into a smile that turned into a crooked grin of knowing at the dusty surface.
“They do not use this place, and they have not cleaned it in a long time,” Jessica smiled, noting the dust on her fingers and the little handprint on the globe. The dust was a revelation of sorts that Jessica pondered as she made her way to the spiral stair.
They are simply reusing these rooms to hold me, and sealed them shut some time ago, Jessica noted, giving the shadow of a footprint on the upper balcony the same crooked smile as her little handprint on the globe.
Reaching the upper floor and marveling at the view it afforded of the library, she let out a slow breath of astonishment at the sheer size of the space. It was indeed an entire top-floor wing of the Château.
“Château...? This place is more of a palace,” Jessica muttered in wonder at the great windows that ran the length of one side, and half of the other.
Reaching from near the floor and almost touching the ceiling with their rounded upper limits, they bathed the room in a dappled light, and all around were rows upon rows of little worlds bound in leather, wood, and cloth. At the farthest end, a great arched stained-glass window spanned the length of the wall, the panes picked out in parody of the rose garden below.
Scanning her little kingdom of words, Jessica spied an odd, clean spot near the writing desk as she stood poised on the top of the stairs, which puzzled her.
“Why clean a single spot in this vast room?” Jessica whispered, frowning at it.
Making her way to the odd clean spot, she noted a second spiral stair leading down into the canyon of shelves. In her frantic search, she had not seen this set of double doors that sat next to the stairs. But it was not the fact that she had missed them that made her eyes widen. It was the state they were in.
Good God, what happened here? Jessica mused, making her way slowly down the stairs to the nearly ruined doors. Yet, she knew now why she had not seen them. In her frantic rush to find a way out, she had never climbed the stairs to the mezzanine floor.
With the shelves moved in the way, it meant the only access was by the stairs. Crudely patched along the middle with a board nailed in place running from the floor to the top of the door, another had been nailed to the frame for good measure. Frowning at the scarred doors, Jessica noted cracks and tiny rents in the oak where a lock had once been.
With a wry smile, she bent down and looked through one of the cracks. There was honestly not much to see other than the opposite wall of the corridor outside, she noted with a disappointed frown.
Out of curiosity, Jessica pushed on the doors, but they were solid and unmoving, nailed in place along the floor and the upper frame. Shrugging at the scared and damaged doors, she voiced a disappointed sigh and returned to the stairs and exploration of her new home.
***
The following morning, as she lay curled on top of the bed, Jessica awoke with a fright to the sound of the door lock rattling.
Having slept fully clothed with a hand close to her dagger, Jessica shuddered at the memory of the man she knew now as Remy and his wandering hands late last night. Oh, she was very well aware of what the man had intended. But as Remy unbuttoned her dress, the other guard stopped him and ordered him out, laughing that Estelle would have his balls if he played with this little one.
Blinking at the unwelcome shapes, Jessica sat up and scrambled back when the door opened to admit the two burly guards. Remy had his hungry smile for her, while Marcel just looked bored. Jessica was sure they were twin brothers. They both looked far too similar for it to be otherwise. Both had long, sandy-colored hair, blue eyes, and sharp features. The men would have been handsome, if it were not for their unwholesome feel.
They both frightened Jessica deeply. Pushing the door wide and stepping aside, they made way for her Aunt Estelle, who swept into the room, holding Jessica’s diary in one hand and her cane in the other.
The woman’s face was a thunderstorm and her eyes the hail and rain.
Gritting her teeth, Jessica just sighed. She may as well, she thought. I am going to get punished anyway, so what are one or two more hits for sighing? And besides, I thought it was rude to read another’s diary?
***
Pausing at her desk, Estelle tore off her gloves and dumped them on the floor. As ruthless as she could be, what she had just done left her feeling soiled and disgusted.
Chase down a mind Gifted, harvest or bond their souls to The Council of Worlds will, Estelle had done and would do again without question.
But break and beat a child simply to see if they have the gift of mind? Estelle snorted angrily at herself and dropped onto a comfortable couch. Eyeing the men who followed her into the office, Estelle growled in disgust and pointed at the door.
“Get out!” Estelle half spoke; half shouted at them. Marcel raised an eyebrow at the heat in her voice but said nothing when Remy spoke with a cautious tone.
“But we all need to report, sister. I would sooner not be summoned by The Black Hand and face the Truth Seekers,” Remy said, his voice growing in annoyance. Narrowing her eyes at Remy, Estelle slowly stood, snarling at him.
With a surprised yelp, Remy slammed against the wall as if an unseen hand had picked him up and thrown him against it. Her lip curling into a dark smile, she casually approached him and cocked her head to the side.
“When I tell you to do something, Ramous, you will do it without question. Is that understood?” Estelle snarled, eyeing a struggling Remy, pinned to the wall, straining against unseen bonds. “I will report to The Council, and you will do as you are told.” With a casual flick of her wrist, Remy crumpled to the floor.
Growling at Estelle, Remy slowly picked himself up, curling his fists as if ready to strike her back. “You will pay for that one day, Estellia,” Remy growled, his tone icy and full of menace. The sound of a hard slap snapped his head to the side, yet no hand had visibly struck the man.
“Know your place and mind your manners, Ramous. Now get out and send the woman in the kitchens to sort out the girl,” Estelle snapped. Snorting in disgust, she returned to the couch and dropped into it.
You are a liability, Ramous, and one I will need to dispose of soon, Estelle pondered, making a terse sound at the thought of the man and returning her mind to the problem at hand. The girl had shown no sign of emerging talent, even with pain and deep fear, regardless of Millicent’s report.
Beating her again would achieve little, Estelle knew, but The Council of Worlds would demand it until the girl either died or showed herself as an An’sary, or a mind Gifted, to use the simpler term.
Gifted? That is such a small word for such a large problem. How many of you have I run down or broken? The thought drew a sigh of unease from Estelle. Twenty or more years in bondage to The Council and I have brought so much death.
Still, she would do the Masters of Riviam’s will or die herself. Not that she truly had any choice in the matter, for The Council of Worlds would compel her anyway. No, Estellia Yasmin Ve would do their bidding as she always had, and run down, dispose of, or bond the Gifted of mind before they became a threat to the order of the multiverse.
Yet few had ever become so, discounting Varen Ty’lin and Anna d’Aviamier, along with a handful of others. But that was not an argument, or indeed a thought she would voice with the powerful group mind that was The Council of Worlds.
To do so would be painful at best and terminal at worst.
“Varen... how long have you been running?” Estelle whispered, thinking of the man, and grunted at the thought.
A long time, much like Anna, and now you call yourself Oto. Yes, you are truly lost, as the Ellin word implies. Lost to me and to yourself. But at least Tavrin had the sense to join The Black Hand, Estelle mused. Pushing the thoughts of her onetime lover and bond mate, Oto, aside, Estelle prepared her mind for what was to come.
One thing I learned from you, Dh’sah, was how to hide my true thoughts, Estelle sniffed, thinking of the Ellin woman that had taught her. And be thankful she did, Estellia, or your new masters would have killed you long ago.
Taking a deep breath, Estelle retrieved her locket from its silver bag and kneeled on the floor. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for what was to come.
Focusing her will on the device in her hand, Estelle reached out to The Council of Worlds and felt their dark presence greet her.
***
Face beaded with sweat and panting, Estelle lay curled in a fetal ball after her contact with The Council of Worlds. The experience was always unpleasant and often painful. Her body hurt, mind raw and damaged after The Council’s less than gentle touch, but she had experienced worse questionings from them.
Drawing a ragged breath, Estelle pushed herself up from the floor and crawled onto the couch, brushing the tears from her cheeks with an absent hand. The contact had been short but painful.
The Masters of Riviam were less than pleased with her lack of progress.
Having told them beating the girl further would earn little more than it had already, Estelle received a beating herself for her impudence.
Snorting at the memory, she cast her mind out and brushed the girl’s frightened thoughts. Believe me, Jessica, a cane hurts less, and the sting of it lingers all but an instant, compared to the grinding will of those minds.
Still, she had gained more information to work with. The girl could only be one of the Gifted of mind, even if the talent had not yet emerged, and she was to be used as a beacon to draw out her companions.
Her bond-mates, to use the proper term.
That explains why she was not simply taken to Riviam and broken by The Council themselves, Estelle mused. Yet, in their zeal to impart their will on Estelle, The Council had unwittingly told her much more than they may have realized, and it left her with a feeling of icy dread.
A nexus of minds? Estelle shuddered. Such a gathering of powerful Gifted is almost unheard of. But yes, that would indeed be something they would fear. Yet such a revelation did not truly concern her.
It was a name barely whispered by them that brought a fresh flush of fear, and oddly, a moment of hope.
Ar’liana… that is a name you have not heard whispered in fear in a long time, Estellia. Just what are you up to, my old friend?
Narrowing her eyes, Estelle shoved her device back into its silver bag and almost dropped it when a deeper flush of fear flashed through her.
Surely not? The girl cannot be one of yours? Estelle grimaced, eyes widening at the revelation.
A nexus? Gods, if she is one of yours, Ar’liana, then all her bond mates are! It is no wonder The Council wants them disposed of. They are more than a threat to them. They could be their undoing. Shoving the worrying thoughts aside and taking a deep, ragged breath, Estelle curled into a ball on the couch. There was little she could do about it for now. Contact with the Group Mind always left her weak and battered, and she needed to sleep.
“Pulvis et umbra sumus. We are but dust and shadow.”
~ Horace, The Odes of Horace
Chapter Two
Of antiques and dust
Blowing an offending strand of hair from her face, Lauren dropped a stack of books onto yet another growing pile.
Do we actually sell any of these things? She grumbled with a mental sigh and shrugged. “Not really my problem now, is it, as long as I get paid,” she whispered, patting her hands on her long black pants and leaving little handprints. Growling at them, Lauren rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
Just great. Now I am a mess. Black was a smart color to do this in, Laura. You are a genius, Lauren sighed, watching the dust settle on the screen of her phone, showing up as little fingerprints and lines revealing where her finger had last traced across the device.
Sighing again at the dusty handprints, she turned and took another pile from the cart full of old tomes. The elderly owner, for some odd reason, seemed to acquire more of these dusty leather-bound things than he could reasonably consider selling. Along with the stacks of books, Mr. Connors, the owner of this vast metropolis of books, dust, and junk, sold antique items and furniture. New items seemed to appear endlessly to be added to what seemed near infinite halls of old junk.
Another week, another estate sale, and Mr. Connors brought the lot, or as close to it as the rest did not matter, Lauren chuckled. But it was a job and study did not pay for itself. Well, not the rent each week, that was for sure, even if her distant parents paid for her tuition. If only she could actually live in London, but Lauren could barely afford the rent where she was, let alone here in the historic middle.
Blowing the offending strand of hair away again, Lauren cursed at it and rolled her eyes. It was one thing after another in her opinion, and working today was simply in the way of getting her assessments completed on time. Growling at the workload for her art school, or possibly the stray strand of hair, Lauren was honestly not sure which; she dumped the books back on the trolley in a cloud of dust.
“Well, we are not short of mirrors around here, that is for sure,” Lauren mumbled, picking out one of the nearly two dozen mirrors on the only wall not armored with layers of books. Untying the simple elastic that held her long, sandy-colored hair, she set about putting the offending strands back in place.
Finished, she regarded her image on the slightly dusty surface.
At twenty-three, she was finishing her final year of study, and not soon enough, in her opinion. Lauren was a slight woman with piercing blue-gray eyes set in a delicate face, yet not even her parents could explain the light ring of violet around their edge. It often caught people off guard, to Lauren’s great amusement, but it also caught men’s eyes, which was a blessing and a curse in equal measure… well, in her opinion. Indeed, Lauren was a beautiful young woman, but right now, she felt a very dusty one. With an exasperated sigh, she returned to stacking books for her employer.
The man is not even interested in cataloging them. He only wants to inspect them, and after that he seems not to care if they sell or rot. Shrugging at the oddity of the man’s disinterest in what he brought, Lauren clapped her hands to rid them of dust and pushed the now-empty cart back to its little alcove.
Honestly, the three-story building was a junk collector’s fantasy. Even Lauren had to admit she found many things that fascinated her among the flotsam of people’s past treasures. But right now, she could not care less. Her eyes felt dusty, her mouth felt dusty, and her head felt dusty.
I have a submission due tomorrow that needs editing; Lauren sighed and grimaced at the memory of the workload ahead of her. Rolling her eyes and snagging her phone on the way past, she headed for the door with a wave to the owner.
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Connors,” Lauren called out when she passed.
The old man looked up from his reading at the shop counter and smiled, lifting his hand with that strange black tattoo of a hand on its palm. Waving in return, Lauren plucked her coat from a stand beside the door and exited the quiet store onto the noisy central London street.
***
If Lauren had taken the time to think about it and the events that would change her life forever, she would have thrown her textbooks out of the flat window and gone drinking with her third-year friends with no regrets.
How they actually socialized and made grades still baffled her. But as she went to send another text reply to her best friend telling her that she could not go to the pub with a submission due the next day, Lauren gave up and threw the phone onto the bed beside her desk.
Head in hands, she stared at the laptop screen. The words may as well have been beetle scratching or hieroglyphics. Lauren simply could not concentrate.
With a little growl, she hit save and closed the lid on her old laptop.
"Maybe I need a drink?" Lauren mumbled and pursed her lips at the phone on her bed. Snorting at the device, Lauren ignored it and went in search of her stash of tea. Opening the metal container, she spotted the odd locket she had accidentally acquired from the shop. Oh, she would return it at some point, but the design had at once been fascinating, and at the same time disturbing to see.
The item, Lauren assumed, was little more than junk jewelry fashioned to resemble an eye.
That in itself was not really disturbing or indeed that unusual.
It was the swirls and patterns of what looked like words traced over the palm-sized object that captured her attention. You simply could not trace their placement. Somehow, your eye got lost, then disoriented, as if your vision rejected the object’s existence.
Lauren accidentally discovered the item hidden in the back of a small puzzle box that came with a consignment of books and other junk. The item had simply fallen out, and Lauren, in a hurry, picked it up, stuffing it into her pocket for safekeeping. It was not until she arrived home the night before that she remembered it was still in her possession.
The tea caddy was open when she got home, so she dumped it in there at the time for no other reason than that it was available. The object felt much too heavy for its size. Probably full of lead, Lauren thought, holding it up by the long silver chain that captured it. The middle of the eye, picked out with some blue stone, seemed to glow faintly, causing Lauren to shudder as she looked at it.
It was as if the damn thing was actually watching her back, but the oddest thing was the feel of the locket… if indeed that was what it was, having no obvious way of opening. The object felt tingly to the touch, and that was the only way she could describe it. It felt like little sparks touching your skin gently, and if held to the ear; it had a faint hum like a tuning fork coming to rest.
Lauren felt mesmerized by the item, almost hypnotized by the sound and feel…
Jumping with a little start at her phone, shouting for attention, Lauren blinked away an odd afterimage of a girl with red hair. Buzzing loudly and with a little chime, her phone once again announced a new message from her friends, quickly followed by a third.
Frowning at the phone and shaking her head to clear the odd afterimage of red hair and hazel-violet banded eyes; Lauren dumped the locket back in her tea caddy. “Shit, how long was I looking at it?” Lauren mumbled with a little puzzled frown. According to her wall clock, it had been a full ten minutes locked in a frozen gaze, watching and listening to the object.
Shuddering at the watchful stone set in the locket, she quickly put the lid back on the caddy and placed it back on her bookshelf… but somehow that did not seem to help.
It feels like the damn thing is still watching me. Shivering at the thought, Lauren snatched her phone from the bed to message her friends that she would meet them at the pub. I need a drink and time away from studying. My mind is turning to mush.
With a nervous laugh, not sure if she was simply convincing herself that it was the long hours of study and not some old junk jewelry that had her in a trance, Lauren all but ran from her room.
***
Hours later, and feeling a little warm from a few too many drinks, Lauren shoved her door open and sighed at the pile of books and submissions. Her head felt no less foggy than when she left to see her friends.
Honestly, Lauren had drunk little more than a drink or two, but she had left before things got a little too involved with a young man who liked her. He was nice, of course. That was not the issue, but Lauren’s practical side as ever won over her adventurous one… and, well, the drinks were flowing, and she really needed to get work done. In hindsight, she should have stayed and gone home with the man. Why am I always so damn practical? Lauren mused.
But it did not really matter, and the bloody submission would not write itself, Lauren sighed, shoving the door shut. Dumping her keys on the counter and dropping her coat on the bed, she sat heavily in the chair at her desk.
“I really need to get this submission done,” she grumbled, opening the device’s lid, then promptly flinched at the bright screen stabbing at her eyes in the dimly lit room. But first, I need hot tea to wash the booze from my brain.
Taking her caddy, Lauren opened the lid and immediately regretted it. Nestled among the bags of Earl Gray tea lay the very reason she went for a drink to begin with. Releasing a little sigh, she pulled the thing out and traced the designs, noting a tiny speck of tea sitting on the eye.
Frowning at it, Lauren tried to blow it off the pale stone, but it moved only a little, so with a finger she brushed at it twice… and the room exploded in silver light.
When it cleared, Lauren stood in the middle of a vast field of grass; the only problem being… the grass was purple-black and the sun on the horizon a dim, angry red.
***
Jessica limped a little for a day or so after her aunt arrived that first morning, with Jessica’s diary in one hand and a cane in the other.
Estelle had been in a near-murderous rage, calling Jessica’s private thoughts smut while she tore pages from her diary.
“You disgust me,” Estelle said coldly before throwing the diary at Jessica.
Jessica simply smiled at Estelle. She had obviously read Jessica’s hopes and desires for her young woman in Paris. Unfortunately, that smile was her biggest mistake to date, for the thrashing she received left her a crumpled, weeping mess, dress torn where the cane had splintered and cut her upon breaking.
Jessica had little idea how long she lay on the floor after Estelle left to inflict misery on some other poor soul, before a startled intake of breath drew her eyes. A motherly woman, who smelled like fresh bread and ginger snaps, gently picked Jessica up from the floor and ordered the guards out in harsh, rapid French. It was quite obvious she had nothing but contempt for the two men.
“We must fix you up, child,” the woman said, holding her close, a look of deep concern, and not a small touch of fear in her eyes.
“Come, you must bathe. Then I will take you to my kitchen, as you need more than soup,” she said, pulling Jessica to her feet. More than a little bewildered, and in quite a bit of pain, Jessica limped past the threshold of the room to an ornate bathroom on the floor below. The woman actually bathed her and set about cleaning cuts and brushing her long hair.
Finishing the task and glancing at the bathroom door, the woman leaned in and whispered in her ear. “We will get you free. What the mistress is doing is wrong. No moral woman could abide it,” the motherly woman said with a note of reproof.
Jessica looked quickly around at the woman, fear and hope in her eyes. “You would help me,” she whispered back.
The woman nodded slowly, a warm yet worried smile on her face. “Yes, but it will take time to arrange. Mind your words and manners until then, and we will do what we can,” she replied.
Dressed in a long silk robe, the woman Jessica now knew as Genevieve, lead her down to a vast yet homely kitchen nestled in the basement of the giant building. Once seated at a long kitchen table, Genevieve placed fresh bread, ham, and greens in front of her.
“Eat, girl. In here you are safe, and my boys are close. They will see no harm done while you are in my care,” Genevieve assured with a sharp nod.
With genuine thanks, Jessica ate and listened to the woman as she chatted in French. Jessica had to stop Genevieve now and then to ask the meaning of a word or phrase, to which Genevieve would laugh.
“You spent too much time in Paris, little one. Out here, this is where the real people live, and we speak a whole other language,” Genevieve chuckled after explaining a word Jessica was unsure of. Honestly, it sounded more German than French to Jessica, and Genevieve’s accent sounded off, in Jessica’s opinion. Not that it mattered, Jessica just felt relieved to have a chance to escape if she could believe the woman.
After a time, and with a look of deep sadness, Genevieve led Jessica back to her room. On the bed lay her black dress, having been mended and returned.
“We will do all we can, Jessica,” Genevieve whispered in her ear and left. The lock clicking into place sounded harsh and heavy in Jessica’s ears.
***
Making her way quickly down to the kitchen, Genevieve locked the door before pulling a locket from her dress pocket.
“That has to be her,” Genevieve whispered, taking a seat by the expansive fire.
Running her finger around the device, Genevieve placed her hand on it and closed her eyes, wary of the energy she had to use being noticed by Estelle. Mistress, I think I have found the girl; Genevieve cast out, and received a little surprised thought in return.
Are you sure? A soft, feminine voice returned. You must be completely sure it is my Zirana before you act. The Council must not know it is my hand taking her, continued the voice, causing Genevieve to frown and grunt at the returning thought.
I will need to touch her mind and watch her for a time, mistress. But you should know it is Estellia that has her, Genevieve replied, and frowned at the door latch moving. I must go, she said, quickly stuffing the device into her pocket and moving to the kitchen door.
Taking a deep breath, Genevieve opened it and sighed in relief as her son raised an eyebrow. “Dion, you nearly scared me to death,” Genevieve chided, pulling him through the door and latching it again. Before he could say a word, Genevieve shoved him into a chair and smiled.
“The girl must be the one Ar’liana seeks. Contact Anna and have her ready to meet us here,” Genevieve said crisply. Dion eyed her for a moment, then grunted at what she said.
“A ship...? Why not just use a gate to get the girl away?” Dion replied and smiled at Genevieve’s rolled eyes.
“Because the mistress wants this done discreetly is why. Now take your brother to the ruins and message Anna. If I know that woman, she will be chasing pretty Trinian girls, or gambling in one of the dens around Orion Four, if not simply drunk. Tell her our mistress commands her to retrieve us and a passenger, no questions asked,” Genevieve whispered, pointing at the door and gracing her son with a significant look.
“Anna won’t like that,” Dion replied and sighed at his mother’s hard look. “Yes, Mother,” Dion sighed, heading for the door.
***
Jessica saw nothing of her aunt for almost a week since the beating.
Good, the woman is honestly evil; there is no other word for it, Jessica sniffed while she browsed the shelves of her library.
She could apparently eat in the kitchen now with Genevieve and her sons. But she doubted it was through any form of kindness, and more likely practicality for this tentative freedom.
Whatever the reason, from the first day, it quickly became apparent that there was quite a division between the staff in this great house. The men who acted as her guards were certainly unwelcome in the kitchen, and Genevieve’s boys, Dion and Raoul, were not shy in telling them so.
“We will return her and keep watch. You know you are not welcome in here, Marcel, and your brother, much less so. Touch one of the maids again and I will cut your balls off. Gods, there are only two left as it is,” Dion growled in rapid French, slapping a hand on Marcel’s chest the first morning Jessica was taken down to the kitchens for breakfast.
She thought there would be a fight as the moments dragged on, before Marcel finally raised his hands and backed out of the door.
“Un tas de merde,” Jessica caught Dion saying, slamming the kitchen door and giving her a warm smile. “He not harm you, petite dame. I break his skull if do.”
Jessica actually laughed at the man’s slightly broken English, then thanked him in French.
“Merci, monsieur, vous êtes un homme bon,” Jessica replied, inclining her head.
Dion smiled at her and set about helping his mother in the kitchen.
“Your French is good, little lady, but you sound like Paris, if you pardon my meaning,” Dion said with a little chuckle and a flash of a smile. Jessica laughed again at the comment; it felt good to do so.
“Yes, your mother has already informed me as such,” Jessica said in return, nursing a hot cup of tea.
She came to crave these small moments of normality when she was released into the care of Genevieve. Yet, she could not help but notice the appraising looks the woman gave her from time to time, as if she were weighing her character. Not that Jessica cared.
The kitchen was a sanctuary, and a welcome one. Jessica cried herself to sleep most nights, locked in her room, dreaming of home and her beloved Paris. It was during one such morning, quietly eating breakfast, that Raoul revealed the house staff were all new to this house.
“We have only been here a few months, my lady, and only the groundsmen have been here longer, but they speak to us little,” he said with a note of worry. The revelation struck a discordant note in Jessica.
If Aunt Estelle is to be believed, Uncle William passed away but two months ago, Jessica thought, a cold pit forming she could not quite put a finger on. Jessica did not know why, but the thought gave her a deep flush of fear.
Estelle had been tight-lipped about her uncle’s death, and Jessica knew now it would be quite unwise to ask.
***
With a dark frown, Estelle drew her mind back and sniffed at the feel of another Gifted mind. She had felt just a sliver of a mental conversation close by, once the light and motion cleared from her travel between worlds. Who are you? Estelle pondered, pulling her gloves off and dumping them on her desk.
The past few days had been little more than a distracting disaster, in her opinion, having been called away to Terra proper to demand answers from the agents stationed there. Estelle was furious at the loss of a possibly gifted girl on that world. But the damage was done, and the girl was lost into the multiverse.
Yet another one we will have to hunt down in time. How the girl had come by a gate device to travel worlds was a mystery, considering the agent watching the girl should have sensed her ability emerging.
So, Estelle would now be forced to answer to her order on Riviam, and The Black Hand was not known for its forgiveness.
Still, the agent in charge of the safe house the girl worked at would be questioned and severely punished for his lapse. Millicent, on the other hand, was in disgrace; she had failed within days of starting her new duties and would be sent back to Riviam for her part in losing the girl. Dismissing the frustration at yet another mess to clean up and an An’sary to chase, Estelle cast her mind out, brushing the minds of close-by staff, and smiled.
“Ah, there you are,” Estelle said in a soft, menacing voice, then growled when the mind masked, vanishing into the sea of mind space.
Marcel! Estelle cast at the man, her mental command icy at best.
She truly despised her so-called brothers, but they had their uses.
Come here and bring your useless brother with you, Estelle added, moving to her couch and dropping onto it. She was tired and needed food, but above all, sleep before the local agents arrived for briefing and dinner. Yet another irritation she had little care for. And you, my supposed brothers, you are nothing of the sort.
“You are little better than animals,” Estelle growled out loud and snorted in disgust, lying back on the couch. But they knew where to find her. They were so tuned to her mind and the gate she carried; she did not need to seek them in the vast building. No sooner had the door opened to admit Marcel and Remy; Estelle raised a hand and waved them to an opposite couch.
“We have an An’sary hiding in this house. Find them and bring them to me. Kill them if you must. I don’t care either way, just go to the kitchens and have them send me something to eat,” Estelle commanded, and dismissed the two men. “Oh, and make sure the girl is in her room before the hour is out.” With a deep sigh, Estelle closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Traveling worlds took a toll on the body as much as the mind, and if prolonged, it could kill.
***
Jessica sighed at the overturned room and cast a black look at Marcel. Grunting at it, Marcel unceremoniously shoved her in and slammed the door.
Why would you need to search it again? You took everything I own already, Jessica mused, taking a deep breath and setting to righting the mess.
According to Genevieve, her aunt had guests in the house tonight, and Jessica was not to be seen. So, as evening light filtered through the stained-glass dome, she randomly pulled books from shelves, reading some and discarding others, all to the sounds of a dinner party filtering up from the floors below.
The one thing Jessica was truly thankful to her father for was his insistence on language lessons as she browsed the shelves.
So many of the books in this collection are in different languages. Some I do not even know.
But many Jessica could indeed read, and the others, with a little help from her studies, she could puzzle out. This ability to absorb the written and spoken word had come naturally to her from a young age, a skill she was at this moment very grateful for.
Running her hands along the spines of books hidden back in the far corner of the library under the great stained-glass arch, Jessica selected a dark green, leather-bound volume. It felt far too light for its size. Turning the tome to read the cover, it emitted an audible clunk from inside.
What secrets do we have here? She wondered, then scanned the surrounding shelves. “How many more like you are there in this collection? That could be an amusing pastime to shed away the hours in captivity,” Jessica whispered with a wry grin. Taking the book, she walked back toward the middle of the library and climbed the spiral stair to place it on the reading desk.
On inspection, the book was rather plain. The inscription she at first glance thought was Akkadian, was little more than nonsense, and the only other interesting feature was a broken lock in the middle.
However, the book was held tightly shut by two brass clasps she had to worry at for a while to get unclipped. Yet once free, the book opened to reveal a shiny metallic bag with a silver locket secured within.
Well, that was what it appeared to be when she tipped the bag’s contents out into the empty book.
The object about the size of Jessica’s palm had been crafted in the shape of a heart. This in itself was not all that remarkable. Jessica had a similar, if not smaller, one with a picture of her mother in it. Well, she had owned one being the correct words since her aunt had taken all her possessions away.
What caught her eye were the designs and letters etched into the surface of the object. No matter how she tried, her eye could not follow the swirls and scrolls. It was as if the eye rejected the object’s existence and wanted you to stop looking at it.
Picking it up from the little box fitted into the book, Jessica almost dropped it as it tingled in her hand. Frowning at the locket, she held it up to her ear. It had a faint sound, like a distant bell vibrating to a stop.
A loud crash and doors slamming caused Jessica to shove the object back into the book and close it. The raised voices and running feet grew louder before they passed outside the library doors. Frozen in place, and letting the voices fade away until all she could discern were the sounds of the dinner floors below, Jessica sighed with relief and opened the book again to remove the object.
“What on earth are you?” she whispered, placing it in her hand. “Well, you are much too heavy for your size.” With a little smile, Jessica put the chain around her neck and hid the object inside her high-necked dress.
***
Genevieve bit back tears as she ran through the night-shrouded estate grounds. Her son Raoul was dead or missing, having failed to secure the Jessica girl.
Dion was alive, and like herself, wounded in the fight to flee Estelle.
“Damn that woman,” Genevieve hissed, sensing a spike in mental energy and tree branches shattering behind her. “Quickly, Dion, they are gaining on us. Where did Anna say she would land?” Genevieve shouted in an out of breath voice.
“Not far. On the other side of the ruins,” Dion shouted back and growled when another psychic surge of energy shattered a tree. “Damn you, mother, use a fak’n gate to get us out of here. It is not just Estelle but a good dozen agents with her,” Dion added, his speech slipping back into that of Trinian, the world he grew up on.
Genevieve just shook her head and nearly stumbled on the broken stones leading up to the ruined castle. “No, they can follow us that way, but they can’t gate jump to a ship… Estelle is good, but not that good, so run,” Genevieve growled back, ducking into the grass covered inner bailey with a sigh of relief at the sight of a jump ship through the broken arches on the other side.
“Help me,” Genevieve snapped, clasping Dion’s hand and coming to a halt. “The arch stones, pull them down,” Genevieve hissed and pushed her mind at the cracked stone.
She was not strongly gifted, and neither was her son, but together there would be just enough to block the entry. As the stones shifted and tumbled, Genevieve caught sight of Remy and Marcel running through the trees, and other indistinct shapes; most certainly Council Agents following.
“Hurry, that will not hold Estelle for long,” Genevieve shouted, and bolted toward the ship.
Reaching the jump frigate, Genevieve collapsed through the door and shouted at the pilot to go as Dion pulled the door closed. The sudden surge knocked him off his feet when the ship lurched and threw itself at the sky.
“What the hell have you two stirred up?” the crisp voice of Anna hissed through the intercom, prompting Genevieve to stagger to her feet.
Making a terse sound, Genevieve pushed away her son’s helping hand and marched toward the flight deck. “Doing what our mistress commands us to do, Anna, as you damn well know,” Genevieve shouted back upon entering the fight space. The auburn-haired woman at the flight controls simply grunted and waved Genevieve into a seat.
“Yeah, well, it is who you are running from that bothers me, Genie. After I make this jump, you are going to explain or I will dump you back on Trinian where I found you,” Anna hissed back and slapped a ring attached to cables on her head. “Unless you want to throw up, take a deep breath and make yourself useful. This is going to be a rough reality jump. I fak’n done one already today and I don’t have the strength to make it far or comfortable,” Anna continued, pointing at the co-pilot’s seat.
With a disgusted growl at Anna’s reply, Genevieve dropped into the seat and tapped up the navigation display. “Where are we going?” Genevieve snapped back, setting the jump drive to charge.
“Terran Empire Space, and that abandoned shithole old Earth. It is the closest reality point that is even remotely safe, Genie, and it is far from safe,” Anna replied, closing her eyes and gripping the armrests. “Well, fak’n punch in the code Genie, I may as well get this done. Fak, I hate these jumps. They hurt like hell.”
Grunting at the comment, Genevieve entered six numbers in the console behind her and set the jump time. “Six seconds, Anna,” Genevieve said, and winced in sympathy with Anna as the space around them flashed into light.
Letting out a painful hiss, Anna tore the ring from her head and slumped in her flight chair. “That fak’n hurt. Now who the fak are you running from that you would need me and not a gate? Dion was more than a little vague about what you three have been up to,” Anna said flatly, eyeing the dead planet ringed in broken ships and detritus, before rolling her head and fixing Genevieve with a truly hostile gaze.
Sighing at the black look, Genevieve glanced at Dion, then turned her flight seat to face Anna. “Princess Estellia,” Genevieve said, and ducked when Anna swore and threw the dimensional jump ring at her.
“You stupid fak’n shits! Estellia is not some fak’n low-level seeker Genie, and you damn well know it. She will hunt us down with or without a ship. That woman gives evil a bad name. Next you will tell me Varen is involved or Oto, or whatever fak’n name he is using these days… but Estellia? What the fak were you doing to get so close to that evil bitch?” Anna shouted back and pushed the mass driver’s control forward, prompting her little jump ship to move out of the path of a chunk of broken and twisted metal.
“Gods, this place is a dump,” Anna said absently, returning a hostile look to Genevieve. “Well…? Answer the fak’n question, Genie?”
Taking a deep breath to calm her own rising temper, Genevieve let it out slowly and moved from the fight chair to a plush couch.
“I don’t know if Varen is involved, but considering that estate we just left belonged to William d’Ry’lin, I would assume so,” Genevieve replied, tapping a drawer beside her open and fishing out a bottle containing a pale blue liquid.
Moving to the navigator’s chair, Anna just grunted at the comment and pulled up a jump code. “Yeah, well, if you see that prick, ask him where my children are. Ar’liana won’t tell me. Anyway, you still have not answered my question, Genie. What brought you so close to Estellia?” Anna asked, turning to the console behind her and punching the numbers in.
“She has one of Ar’liana’s girls. I am sure of it,” Genevieve said in a flat voice, and rolled her eyes when Anna swore at her.
“Oh, fak that, and fak you both. I want nothing to do with this. If she has one of Ar’liana’s brats and knows it, Estellia will come looking for you, or The Council will send its dog En’nar or that rat-faced prick Dar’mat in her place. En’nar is a cold, unforgiving fak’n psychopath, and considering the Ellin are all cold fak’ers to begin with, that is saying something,” Anna shouted back, returning to her flight seat and hitting the jump cycle without warning Genevieve or Dion.
Once the jump light cleared, Anna left her flight seat and stomped to the couch. “I am giving you a choice, Genie. Stay with me and run, get off at Orion Four and find your own way back to Ar’liana, or go your own way. I don’t give two fak’s which one you choose, but I am done with Ar’liana and her web of shit. If Estellia is on the trail of Ar’liana’s half-breed brats, I am out. That woman will start a war if any of the great factions find out what she has been up to, and you know it,” growled Anna, snatching the bottle from Genevieve and taking a sip.
“You can’t run forever, Princess,” Dion said in a flat voice, earning little more than a disgusted snort from Anna.
“Don’t call me that, you prick. My house disowned me a millennium ago when I ran with Varen and his Red Hand. So don’t insult me with my past, for you don’t know shit, boy,” Anna snapped, waving the bottle at him.
Dion simply grunted at the reply, earning a deeper growl from Anna.
“I know what you are thinking and you can get fak’d. I owe Ar’liana nothing, and if she won’t return my girls, then I doubt she even knows where they are. That woman is a worse liar than I am, and mark my words, she will use you up and betray you just like all the others. Don’t forget it was she who started this whole fak’n mess, along with her sisters in the first place,” Anna shouted at them.
Making a terse sound at Anna’s tirade, Genevieve stood and walked to the flight controls. “Well, go your own way Anna, but the least you can do is drop us off near The Tendril Gate making our journey a good bit shorter,” Genevieve said briskly, while punching up the jump code to the outer rim cluster of planets. “But you mark my words, little miss. If you think Estelle is a hard bitch, she has nothing on Ar’liana, and if you anger her? Well, I don’t like your chances of living much longer.”
Snorting at the veiled threat, Anna went to throw the bottle at Genevieve and thought better of it. Pushing the cork back into it, Anna tossed the bottle to Dion and took her flight seat.
“Get fak’d. And get off my ship,” Anna growled, slapping the jump button. “If you two want to die, then get on with it. I have no desire to tangle with Estellia, and you can be damn sure The Black Hand will come looking for you if they even suspect Ar’liana made those girls, and you know of it.”
***
Estelle snarled at the ship, spiriting Genevieve away as it took to the air.
“That all but confirms the child is an An’sary,” Estelle mumbled, turning her back on the retreating craft and eyeing the distant Château.
“Check on the girl and see if any of the house staff are left after this debacle… if there are? Kill them,” Estelle hissed, walking back toward the Château. “And you lot,” Estelle said, eyeing the few Council Agents with her.
“Be about your tasks.”
Growling to herself, Estelle ground her teeth at the security lapse.
Their minds must have been conditioned, Estelle snarled, which left only a few options as to who this Genevieve and her sons worked for.
Indeed, just who do you work for? Estelle wondered. It could be the Ellin twins, Dh’sah and Ilisa, or possibly the Ellin E’tara or her own sister, Catherin. Esta d’Ry’lin was another possibility, but that woman was as elusive as mist, and if it were possible, more poisons than a spider.
The first three names caused Estelle to shudder. They were all frighteningly powerful Gifted, and Esta was a woman Estelle had no desire to face.
Even Estelle’s own sister, Catherin, brought a little thrill of fear. Catherin has that gift, Estelle mused, following a long narrow path through the rows of grapevines, and I would not discount her putting spies in my house. But it was unlikely in her estimation. “Ar’liana,” Estelle whispered, a contemptuous smile gracing her lips. Of them all, you were the best at that talent. If Jessica is one of yours, and I do not doubt that now, then you would indeed do anything to get her, Estelle smiled disgustedly, glancing at Jessica’s high-windowed room on the upper floor.
Which may just be a good enough reason to request a stay of execution for the girl. The Council of Worlds would be very keen indeed to draw you out, old friend, and I suspect that was what they wanted all along.
With a disdainful sniff, Estelle stepped onto the crushed stone path leading up to the doors of the Château. The group mind that was The Council of Worlds still demanded the girl mistreated to draw her siblings toward her, and then? They wish you disposed of, Estelle sighed, an odd pang of concern for the girl flashing in her mind.
The girl’s treatment sat badly with Estelle, and it had proven a futile effort, but the group mind known simply as The Council knew only one thing. Power and hate are all you know. As powerful as you are, you act little better than spiteful children.
Not that she would voice such an opinion to them. To do so would be fatal, yet that thought alone brought a troubled frown.
The forced bond with the group’s mind felt less rigged and distinct than it ever had. Growling at her weak-mindedness, Estelle hurried her pace into the Château. I need time away from the demands of The Council, and I need time to return to Britsamia and my Ana.
The thought of the dark-haired young woman she kept safe and hidden on that world brought a sense of calm to her as she stamped through the doors. Estelle knew keeping the girl masked and hidden from The Black Hand was a serious offense, but the girl provided a calm and completeness her damaged soul craved.
***
During the night, while she lay in darkness, Jessica turned the object around in her hands. There had been some sort of commotion in the late evening.
Probably drunk dinner guests, Jessica decided at the time and dismissed it, her attention held by the locket she had found. She would swear to God that she could see it glowing faintly, and if she brushed it quickly with her hand, it would seem to brighten further.
“What are you?” Jessica whispered, yet no matter how she tried, Jessica could find no way to open it.
“Well, you are not a locket, no matter how much you resemble one,” she whispered in the dark. The door lock rattling prompted Jessica to pull the sheets up around her and hide the object between her legs. Swinging open to reveal Remy holding a lantern, Jessica’s heart pounded at the feral smile on his face. His sudden movement toward her prompted Jessica to loosen the clasp around her dagger and draw it slowly under the sheet.
“What are you doing in here?” Jessica snapped in what she hoped was a strong, commanding voice. Remy just laughed and took her chin in his hand. Jessica went rigid at the touch, then flashed the dagger at him, causing Remy to step back and the sheet to fall away. If she were not so frightened, Jessica would have been embarrassed at her sudden nakedness. In very unladylike fashion, she had taken to sleeping undressed to save her clothes, it being apparent she would not receive any of her belongings in a hurry, or at all, for that matter.
The man laughed and continued to retreat, hearing his brother’s voice calling him. “You will be mine, little lady, I can assure you of that,” Remy crooned, and closed the door with a hungry smile.
Long after the door closed, Jessica sat in darkness, tears staining her cheeks, heart pounding in her ears.
***
In the morning, much to her dismay, Jessica ate breakfast in her room with no explanation. The paltry meal was dumped with little care by Marcel. Curling his lip at her, he laughed when he left.
The man frightened Jessica, and she felt very unsafe around him, but his brother terrified her. What surprised Jessica was her hand on the hilt of her dagger beneath the sheets. The second surprise was the fact she still had it, Marcel or Remy, not having thought to take it away.
Pushing thoughts of the men from her mind, she got up and quickly dressed. Armed with some stale bread and a cup of water, Jessica headed for the library to study.
Perched in a window alcove overlooking the ornamental pond, a book in one hand and a crust of bread in the other, Jessica flinched when the object suddenly grew warm against her chest. It seemed to pulse with heat, then cool down.
Taking it out, she almost dropped it, feeling as if it had stung her. Laying it in her palm, she noted a distortion of the air around it, much like a heat haze seen at a distance on a high summer day. The shimmer distorted the air around the object in little ripples, like fingers falling away in all directions.
The sudden sound of the door lock opening caused Jessica to jump and quickly hide the object in her dress, then pick up her book. Jessica’s heart sank when it was not Dion or Genevieve coming to fetch her, but her aunt, and by the look on Estelle’s face, the woman was in a thunderous mood.
Nothing out of the ordinary there, then, Jessica thought, a light smile touching her lips. Estelle’s eyes narrowed at her, prompting Jessica to drop from the window and curtsy.
“Good, child, you are finally learning your place,” Estelle said, scanning the library with a disdainful look. “Horrid place. I should have disposed of it long ago,” she added with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Jessica said nothing, keeping her face smooth of any emotion while Estelle regarded her with piercing eyes. Please God, do not let her take me from this place and put me in a tiny room. I should go mad, Jessica internally pleaded, making sure not to hold her aunt’s gaze too long.
Estelle simply snorted a disapproving sound and produced two letters, waving them at Jessica.
“One came regarding your tutelage in Paris,” continued Estelle with a cold smile. “You will not be going back, and you will remain here… as for the other, I would have a word with you about,” Estelle added, her smile becoming truly dark and eyes frosty. Jessica made the mistake of frowning at the letters to her and received a stinging slap for her efforts.
“What have I told you?” Estelle growled, holding her hand up, ready to strike Jessica again. Taking a deep breath, Jessica curtsied and apologized for her impertinence.
“That is better,” snapped Estelle, directing Jessica to leave the library.
Leading Jessica down through the maze of corridors to her study, Estelle bid her to sit on a leather couch placed to the side of her oak desk. The room, while not dark, felt unwelcoming to Jessica as she cast her eyes around the glass-fronted shelves and paintings of nameless people.
“This letter is from your young woman friend in Paris. She asks too many questions… So, you will write to her and tell her you wish nothing of her, and she should consider herself forgotten,” Estelle demanded, waving it at Jessica. In reflection, Jessica was not sure why she reacted the way she did, but at that moment she felt something break inside.
In a calm and commanding voice, Jessica stood and said no, then walked out of the woman’s study. Moments later, Marcel dragged her back and dumped her on the floor, but she had drawn her line in the sand.
I will not be a victim for this evil woman any longer, Jessica thought firmly, balling her fists as she stood. Snarling at Jessica, Estelle raised her hand to slap her, but Jessica simply growled at it and punched Estelle square in the face.
The act would have shocked Jessica if she had had time to think about it, never having lifted her hand to anyone.
Not bothering to watch Estelle topple to the floor, Jessica ran. When Marcel attempted to grab her, Jessica ducked, pulling her dagger from its scabbard and slashing him across the face. Ignoring his scream, she fled the room, running for the dubious safety of the kitchen.
It was not long before she heard Marcel bellowing behind her as she ran through the corridors, seeking sanctuary with Genevieve. However, the locket felt like it was burning her, nestled in her dress. With trembling hands, she fished it out and held it while she ran, trying not to drop her dagger.
***
Her heart sank when she saw Remy at the end of a corridor, leaning against the wall, waiting with a hungry smile. If Marcel frightened her, then Remy scared her senseless, having entered her room on the first night, pushing her up against the wall, forcing a kiss and unbuttoning her dress.
Only the appearance of his brother stopped the man from going further. Jessica had no illusions about how this would end, and she was not about to be raped by the man. With a predatory smile, Remy cackled at Jessica and almost casually pushed off the wall to walk toward her.
Pursing her lips, a look of grim determination on her face, Jessica began backing up the hall even though she could hear Marcel descending the stairs, bellowing for his brother to kill the bitch. Snorting at his brother’s demands, Remy continued his casual walk down the corridor.
“You are mine now, little lady,” Remy crooned with a smile that made Jessica’s legs feel weak. Backing away, holding her dagger out at him, Jessica curled her lip in defiance and flicked a glance at an open window.
Yet, moments later, Remy froze in place, a look of shock on his face, eyes fixed on the glowing locket swinging from its chain.
With a worried frown, he called out to his brother. “Marcel, she has a gate,” Remy shouted, a note of fear and wonder in his voice.
Marcel just growled when he finally appeared at the entrance to the hall, blood running down his cheek and across his nose, where Jessica had almost severed it. “Nonsense, how could she? We searched all that she owned,” Marcel shouted, then cursed and spat blood.
Growling in frustration at Marcel’s terse reply, Remy continued edging slowly toward Jessica. “Stop moving, you halfwit! She has a gate,” Remy all but shouted, pointing at the locket.
Jessica frowned at the object and turned sideways to the men.
Glancing out the window, Jessica’s heart sank, noting the fall would be fatal. “But does she know how to use it?” Remy crooned, a predatory smile lighting his face again. Marcel just shook his head in disgust and edged closer to Jessica; his eyes fixed on the glowing object.
“Come now, you little shit. Give me the gate and I will make what is coming quick, if not less painful,” Marcel growled, blood dribbling down his cheek and staining his shirt.
Snarling at the hated pair, Jessica clutched the object in her hands, freezing both men in place.
“Put the gate down, little lady. I will make sure Marcel does you no harm,” Remy crooned, a note of concern in his voice.
Jessica frowned at them both, opened her palm, and touched the object with her finger. The motion caused the men to freeze in their advance, raising their hands in what they must have thought was a calming and friendly gesture.
They do not want me to touch it, Jessica thought, narrowing her eyes at the locket, mind racing.
“A gate...? Well, you go through a gate, or do you open it?” Jessica growled at the thing and ran her finger around the heart shape. The object was almost painfully hot in her hand now, the glow lighting up the dim corridor. On a whim, Jessica smiled at Remy and tapped the object twice in the middle, thinking to goad him… and the world exploded into silver light.
***
Snarling at the empty space Jessica once occupied, Remy stamped up to Marcel and punched him in the stomach.
“You imbecile. She found it in the library. She must have. It is the only place I can think of, and you let her go!” Remy screamed at Marcel and hit him again. Coughing and dripping blood, Marcel backhanded Remy, sending him sprawling on the floor.
“Hit me again, brother, and I will split you open and feed you your own guts,” Marcel growled back, staggering a little. A shout from the end of the corridor and the appearance of Estelle silenced them both.
“You are both idiots! That has always been abundantly clear,” Estelle spat, marching up to Remy and kicking him in the stomach. Smiling at Remy curling up in pain, Estelle spun around and slapped Marcel for good measure.
“There will be a reckoning if you do not undo this mistake, that I can assure you of,” continued Estelle in an icy voice, and made a disgusted sound at the two men. Rolling her eyes, Estelle took a similar device to Jessica’s from a bag made of some shiny metallic cloth and ran her fingers around the object, frowning at what she saw.
“I should never have agreed to find the little brats. It has been a costly distraction,” Estelle growled, and pursed her lips as she held the object out, noting the faint glow increasing. “She has been wearing that gate for some time, and it is dangerously overcharged,” Estelle said, making a frustrated noise, “so it will take us some time to catch up.” Beckoning Remy and Marcel, Estelle gestured for them to join her. “Come, we must follow,” Estelle said flatly, frowning at her brothers.
The vicious look on Marcel’s face and the hungry one on Remy’s, when they placed their hands on Estelle’s arm, drew a faint shudder of disgust at the men.
Swatting away the feeling of revulsion, Estelle eyed them both and laughed.
“Whichever one of you gets her first, she is yours to do with as you wish, but you are not to kill her,” Estelle snapped and snorted at Marcel’s disappointed look. Tapping her locket twice, Estelle and her brothers vanished with a pop and a rush of air, leaving the corridor empty.
“The best way out is always through.”
~ Robert Frost
Chapter Three
Frying pan into the fire
The air of wherever Lauren was smelled strangely metallic, much like the ozone smell after a thunderstorm. Worse still, strange animal howls echoed in the distance, which did little to help the rising fear.
Casting her gaze around the endless expanse, Lauren sat utterly bewildered, and more than a little frightened, plucking at the strangely colored long grass.
The more she thought about it, ‘frightened’ was not really the right word… she was absolutely terrified. Frowning at a long stick with dozens of wings that flitted by, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Well, I can’t stay here,” Lauren whispered. Shuddering at a distant screech, she stood and brushed the grass off her jeans, laughing at her errant comment. It had a bitter and frightened edge to it, made all the worse for standing.
The endless expanse of oddly colored grass stretched on… well, endlessly.
I can’t stay here…? What a joke, and just where the hell do you think you are going, Laura? Lauren grumbled, eyeing the dim horizon, then snorted in disgust.
Lauren was, however, thankful she still had her sneakers and a warm, pale pink wool top on. “Thank God I did not take my shoes off when I got home,” she mumbled, hugging herself against the chill air.
This strange place was, in fact, quite cold; the sun providing little warmth as it sat low and sullen red in the sky. The more Lauren thought about it, the more it worried her. The damned thing just sat grudgingly on the edge of the horizon, not seeming to move.
Shrugging, she snorted at it and froze at the sound of animal howls, pulling her attention from the stubborn sun. “Fuck, they are getting closer,” Lauren exclaimed, then frowned at the curse word, for she rarely cursed. More than a little frightened, she walked away from the howls, hugging herself to keep what little warmth the wool garment could provide close.
So, she wandered aimlessly, for how long Lauren could not really discern in the dim, never-changing light. The featureless plain of tall purple and black grass seemed to stretch on to the horizon in all directions. It was quite pretty in a disturbing way, with the grass swirling and shifting in the barest of breezes.
“Damn, this place looks like some goth girl’s wet dream,” Lauren mumbled, trying to ignore the strange distant howls. The grassy plain felt like an endless sea, lit up by brief flashes of lightning that tore at the twilight sky of this dim, cold world.
Thankfully, the animal sounds that followed her eventually faded from hearing. But their absence left a silence so profound it had Lauren wishing for their return. On reflection, the silence was possibly more desirable when presented with them again, but this time much closer.
"I am being stalked, aren’t I?" she whispered, shuddering at a howl from her right and freezing at one from her left, uncomfortably close.
Oh God, I am going to end as some unknown animal’s lunch, Lauren grimaced, fighting to keep the panic down, and squeezed her fists into balls… it did not help, and her fists just felt hot. Lauren could not help but notice the heat in her hand. It was not just hot; it was, in fact, burning hot.
Opening her palm, she shook her head at the locket.
“I am so out of sorts, I forgot about you,” Lauren whispered to the object, and grimaced at the fact she was talking to the damned thing. A nearby howl followed by an even closer guttural growl caused Lauren to glance around. Some distance away, she spied an oily black shape slinking low in the grass crossing her path. Another low growl had her turn to see yet another slick shape stalking through the grass behind her. Swallowing hard, she focused on the pendant.
How did I make this thing work? … Oh God, what was I doing when it brought me here? It was obvious the locket had brought her to some other world.
The problem was that Lauren did not know how. A third growl made Lauren jump, then almost collapse with fright at what she saw. Staring at her with menacing green eyes was a horror of teeth, long red teeth in an utterly black body. If it had a head, it was impossible to tell. All she knew was that it just had teeth, far too many teeth, and a long, serrated tongue.
“Fuck, Lauren… think, what were you doing?” she half squeaked and half growled as the animal slowly circled around her, sniffing at the air. Well, she thought it was sniffing. Who could tell?
The creature was obviously unsure of her smell, but Lauren had no illusions of that stopping it from eating her. “What were you doing? Think, damn it,” she hissed, causing the animal to growl.
“I was going to make tea, and I took this out of the caddy,” Lauren all but yelled, receiving a bellow of rage from the animal. Running her finger around the edge of the locket, Lauren’s eyes went wide when she finally realized what she had done.
“I went to flick away a speck of tea leaf,” she squeaked, trying to ignore the animal.
The body with teeth advanced on her, bluish drool forming around its fanged maw as it slunk low in the grass.
Lauren flicked the locket. Nothing happened.
The animal crouched, obviously about to leap at her.
In a near-blind panic, Lauren flicked it twice again as the body with teeth leaped at her… and the world exploded into silvery light.
***
The rain fell in sheets, not unlike broken glass from a collapsing building, when Clare’s air taxi lightly touched the edge of the dock.
Sighing at the sight of the torrential downpour, she sighed again at the unfairness of it all. The airship, more a decrepit bus, really, having chosen to dock near the upper platforms, left Clare with no choice but to brave the elements. This high up on the towering monolith, it offered no protection from the late February rain. With no umbrella or jacket, for that matter, it was going to be a horrid walk to the lower exit and the sub-levels. Not that she could have afforded either item with the amount she earned.
"Fak, I can hardly afford my shared cubical rent as it is," Clare growled.
But she had a job that paid more than just rations, and that had to count for something, even if her sleeping cube was damp and cramped.
Just my luck to have a package this side of town, she lamented, frowning at the torrents of water.
Taking a deep breath, Clare sprinted off the gangplank toward the dubious shelter of a stairway.
“New Eden, what an ironic name for a grimy, wet hellhole,” Clare sniffed, thinking of the city she called home. But she had grown up here, and as bad as it was, it was home for the immediate future.
And besides, where would I go?
Other than the mines, gangs, and love dens, there were few options for an orphaned, barely educated girl on Trinian. At eighteen, she could have sold herself into one of the love dens, but she made a disgusted sound at the reality.
The under-city bosses would have taken me younger, but the thought honestly repulsed her.
“Better living in my damp cube than that,” Clare snarled, thinking of the few friends she had that earned a pittance that way. All the girls she knew who took that path were honesty little better off than her, worse probably.
In her haste, Clare slipped on the slick concrete stairway, the rusty rail the only thing to save her from tumbling down the pitted steps and possibly over the edge. That thought alone caused her to slow down. Grimacing at the long fall to the tops of towers far below, Clare groaned and let go of the rail.
“My shoes are not made for this. Not made for anything, really,” she grumbled, feeling water squelching between her toes. Feet sloshing in their watery cocoon, Clare released another groan and ducked through the portal. The main stairway provided little shelter and more rain, if that were indeed possible, making the already treacherous descent more so.
Paradise Towers, another ironic name for a festering rat hole. I need to get out of this town. The thought just made Clare sigh at the ludicrous notion of ever making it off Trinian. The cost of transport off-world would be nearly as much as she would earn in a lifetime, and probably more.
Shivering, wet through, and thoroughly unimpressed, Clare finally made it to the internal entrance and what little shelter it could provide.
The problem was that the city never built elevators on the upper decks, or it would flood the lower complex, and besides, the under-city had drainage problems enough with the constant rain. Her damp, sleeping cube stood testament to that.
New Eden, the supposed jewel in the crown of Trinian; was in reality little more than a crime-ridden dump of a backwater planet some three hundred light years from old Earth. Trinian’s glory days were long past with the collapse of the d’Aviamier ruling house.
Old Earth, what a joke! The place is a myth. Not even the Terran Emperor lives there, but even if it were not a myth, how in hell would I ever afford to get off this shitty rock? Wet to the skin, Clare felt like a drowned cat, with her long red hair plastered to her face and back, droplets dripping into her hazel green and violet banded eyes… she felt utterly annoyed.
But Clare needed the money, or she would soon find herself sleeping in an air duct or under a staircase. The only saving grace, she guessed with a wry smile, being that the uniform she wore was all black, or it would have been completely transparent.
Reaching the first proper shelter from the eternal rain that plagued Trinian, Clare stood and shivered in the updraft from the internal stair to catch her breath before moving down to the elevator level.
She was a slim, athletic girl, not that you would know it under the baggy clothing she wore, unless it was plastered to her skin from the rain. But right now, she just felt tired to the bone. The day was fading, and she really wanted this to be the last job of the day.
Fat chance of that; Ramon will work me until midnight if he wants, and you will do it, Clare, and you know it or you lose jobs and favor.
Tapping the elevator call, Clare leaned against the gate, watching the cable go past, feeling the rush of warm air as the elevator traveled up the shaft toward her. Only the richer towers had automatic doors… out here in the shabby towers, you were the automatic part.
When the rickety old elevator arrived, she pulled the gate open, then the inner gate, and hit the ground floor button. Clicking the inner gate into place so the thing would actually move, the elevator lurched and squealed in protest, starting its descent to the ground two-hundred and thirty floors below. She would have to take a second service elevator to get to the lower sub-levels. Sure, she could have taken a transit tube, but they honestly took longer than an airship even with the elevator travel, and frankly, she would have gotten no less wet.
Not that Trinian actually needed to be so wet. It was all artificial, and thanks to the equatorial fuel production plants producing the constant clouds that plagued the dirty, rain-clogged sky. Either way, it made the place unbearable for the impoverished population of Trinian.
Well, that was what Katharine’s girlfriend Elle told Clare. Not that Clare understood or even cared. The place was a damp, gray, shitty dump, and that was that, but she missed Elle. Escaping Trinian was a dream they all had, and Elle managed it… well, sort of, when she got a job on an orbital station away from the constant wet, much to Katharine’s disappointment.
***
The journey took a good ten minutes under flickering lights to reach the squalid ground level. There were no express elevators here.
“I am lucky this one even works,” Clare grumbled with a disgusted scowl at the elevator’s moldy walls. The rich lived in high double glassed towers or on the surrounding mountain peaks above the perpetual cloud cover. Most lived in private orbital habitats away from the damp and crime that was New Eden.
Down here, among the trash and detritus of the towering city above, an underworld existed that not even the city authorities bothered to police much.
It was just not worth the effort or the money.
Sure, the imperial guards would periodically clear the ghosters, no-names, and Augies out of the deep warrens to be processed and tried if they were wanted criminals, or simply disposed of if needed. But mostly, this shabby underworld was left to its own devices. Having grown up on a level just above the ghosters and no-names, Clare knew her way around the hierarchy.
Ghosters you did not mess with. They were mostly wanted for crimes of the murderous kind or ran drugs, stolen goods, and illegal slaves. All without exception worked for the underworld bosses, or the roving gangs in the deeper levels. No-names fell into a few categories, but mostly they were people with no identification, or born off-world and ended up here illegally.
Either way, it mattered little to Clare. She wore a green and blue armband marking her untouchable by the gangs and muggers, although that was never foolproof, and it paid to be extra careful at this depth of the city. Absently gripping the armband, she snorted at that reality.
The band meant she was on a job for a city boss. So unless you wanted one of them to gut you, it was best to leave the courier alone.
Well, unless there was a gang war going on, which made things dodgy at best, the issue being that was almost always the case down here.
Tapping the call button on the service elevator, Clare eyed a trio of mist-heads vaping in the corner and tapped her armband. The stoned-out mist freaks went back to puffing clouds of mist, a powerful local hallucinogen, and ignored her.
“Damn junkies,” Clare mumbled.
Not that she really had anything against them. This was Trinian after all, and any escape was an escape from the reality of living in the dump. It was just that they were highly unpredictable.
Finally, on her way down to the lower levels and far from relaxed, Clare mentally prepared herself for what would come next. Her job was to pick up a package from an underworld boss and deliver it discreetly to a tower on the Upper East Side.
“Oh, nice, a fancy people’s tower,” Clare said to her agent, who poked her in the chest and told her to focus on doing it right. Ramon was a sleazy, pretentious shit, but he gave her and the only person she could truly call a friend, Katharine, work… and oddly, a higher pay than most package runners. This job would pay her well if she did not screw it up, in that Ramon was right.
Exiting the elevator and closing the service door, Clare started off down the dingy concrete corridor, counting the doors under flickering yellow lights until she reached door twenty-three.
Taking a deep breath, she banged on the door twice, waited, then banged once more before a slot in the door opened to reveal a pair of glowing eyes. Oh great, a fak’n Augy, she shuddered, sighing at the eyes scanning her.
Augy, short for augmented, were simply those who added mechanical parts to their bodies. The problem was, once you did this, there was no going back… well, unless you took the body parts from others. Normal society shunned the augmented, and many got addicted to the enhancements they received from adding the parts. For many, it was the only way they could get work and eat. For others, it was just a way to hide and not get rounded up in an under-city purge.
“What do you want?” the eyes said in a slightly metallic voice.
Even better, it has had a voice job, Clare groaned with an internal sigh, all but confirming it was a criminal in hiding.
It would have changed its voice to avoid audio identification.
Honestly, Clare just felt sorry for the creature. Most were so augmented they were not really human anymore, and all done just so they could get a meal and a place to sleep. “I am here for the party gift,” Clare whispered at the slot with glowing eyes. She hated these codes. Everybody knew they were bullshit, and she was there to either deliver or pick up a package for a boss. The point was, who would be mad, desperate, or angry enough to interfere in the job?
Moments later, the slot slammed shut to the sound of bolts sliding on the inside. With a protesting creak, the door unlocked, swinging outward, and forcing Clare to jump back.
Fak it, I should have watched for that, she growled.
The door was armored and swung out to buy time for the occupants to escape during a raid. It was a relatively practical thing to do, considering most living down here would have a death sentence on them. Stepping through the door, Clare glanced to the left, spying the Augy lurking by the door and shuddered.
Fak me, there is not much human left on this one.
Clare had seen her share of these creatures down here, but this one was mostly machine and wires at this stage. All the creature had left that looked even remotely human were the mouth, part of its head, and a small section of torso below the waist. The rest had been augmented, and badly. The thing cackled at her when she passed, all the while pointing at its groin covered in cheap linen.
“Still human where it counts, baby,” it said over the sound of worn-out gears and whining servos. Clare grimaced at it and quickly left the entrance hall.
At the end of a narrow passage, she knocked on yet another door, and this time, quickly admitted to her great relief by non-augmented humans. Clare knew all too well that even among the ghosters and other denizens of the under-city, the augmented were considered outcast scum.
“It is over there. And don’t screw this up, or we will have your head. Got it, kid?” A well-dressed man with long dark red hair tied at the back in a ponytail with even darker glasses barked at her.
Clare just raised an eyebrow at the man. She had immunity, and the twit knew it, but they all acted like this.
Pointing at a package on a low table by a well-appointed bar, the man growled at her to get moving. Snorting in disgust, Clare cocked her head at him and went to retrieve the package.
Decked out in substantial luxury with plush couches, game screens, and rich carpets, there was more wealth in this room than Clare would earn in a lifetime. More named men followed her with their eyes while they lounged with pretty night girls on the couches, smoking mist or drinking. They would all head across town to the high-class tower clubs later to ply their trade with the rich and well-appointed.
Marching across the room to get the small package, a sharp-faced, well-dressed man sitting at a bar with an Ellin snagged Clare’s arm and snarled at her. Gods, it would be a fak’n Ellin, Clare growled, eyeing the creature and ignoring the ghoster holding her arm. These tall, ghost-pale non-humans frightened Clare for a reason she could not quite put a finger on.
Well, beyond their appearance, of course.
The creature had no skin pigment to speak of, and deep violet eyes set in a long, thin face. Clare knew all too well that the Ellin was likely the boss down here, and undoubtedly above the law should there be a raid.
Letting go of her arm and shoving Clare toward the package, the sharp-faced man inclined his head at the man with the dark glasses.
“He means it, girl. Fak this up and I will gut you personally, or give you to our pet Augy to play with,” he snarled with a hard smile.
The Ellin simply hissed laughter at the comment, a sound not unlike the edge of a knife dragged over rusty metal. Strangely, the sound did not frighten Clare; it simply annoyed her.
Snorting at the threat, she shook her head in disgust at the pair.
They always say this shit; Clare groaned, rolling her eyes as she eyed the small package.
“Fak off. You know the rules. Touch me and you’ll never get another job done by any runner, and besides, I work for Ramon. Do you think I am stupid enough to cross that ruthless prick?” Clare hissed back, snatching the package and heading for the door. Turning the item around in her hand, she made her way out of the ghosters den and shrugged at it.
Well, at least it is light, Clare shrugged, chuckling at the package. It was not much bigger than her hand and packed in a cardboard box.
Faking great. And it is raining. Oh right, it is always raining in this shit hole, Clare growled, ignoring the Augy at the door and exiting the den.
Poor, dumb bastard probably just needed to eat and got stitched up.
***
Hearing the faint chatter of radio units coming from the gloom, Clare froze halfway up the corridor toward the elevators, noting that many of the corridor lights were now turned off.
“Oh, fak, just my bloody day,” she cursed under her breath, and without a second thought, ran back to the door to the den. The Augy opened the slot to her pounding and asked her what the fak she wanted. Clare rolled her eyes at the creature and thumped the door again.
“It’s a raid, you imbecile! Come on, open the fak’n door,” Clare hissed, trying not to shout at the stupid man thing. The Augy just told her to fak off and slammed the slot shut.
“Ah, for fak sake,” she growled, and ran down the corridor looking for a side exit or an air duct to hide in, all the while patting her pants and looking for her ID cards. Feeling the holder they sat in, she felt a little better.
“Well, at least I won’t get fined for not having ID if I get caught. Well, if they don’t simply shoot me,” Clare mumbled and grimaced, remembering the package she held in her hand. Fak it, I can’t bloody well drop the thing, can I.
Clare may be a package runner and technically immune, but the imperial police wouldn’t give two fak’s about it and would slap her around anyway if she were caught. “Ah, fak it. What a fak’n day to be down here,” she sighed and quickened her pace.
There was no alternative, really, but to run. If the imperial police did not rape and kill her, the under- boss she was on the job for would, and likely both. Sure, she could buy the permits to live down here, but who could afford them? And besides, even if you could, no one in their right mind would pay to live in the under-city.
Skidding to a halt, Clare held her breath and strained her hearing, working to choose which crossing tunnel would lead her away from the imperial police. To the left, she could just make out the sounds of a raid, and to the right, running feet. Straining at the echoes filtering up to her, she chose that tunnel, noting the footsteps drifting away into the general murmur and hum of the underground labyrinth.
The surface was splintered and uneven down her chosen shaft, with pools of near-stagnant water filling deep depressions and cracks in the floor. Really, Clare should have slowed down. But in her haste to escape explaining why she was down here, and who the package was for, she kept at a dead run.
Well, that and the fines, along with possible prison time if she were lucky, kept Clare dashing down the pitted and broken path.
With a startled cry, she slipped in a slimy puddle, fumbled and lost the package when she crashed face-first into ankle-deep water.
“Fak it,” Clare yelped, scrambling to her feet, ignoring the pain of her scraped arm and torn fingernails to grab at the package… but it was all too late. The cheap cardboard, sodden and turning into a mushy lump.
“Ah, double fak it. There goes my no-damage bonus,” Clare shouted in frustration. With a resigned look at the soggy package, Clare pulled the thin cardboard away to reveal a locket in the shape of a hand.
“Why the fak would they be so worked up over this little bit of junk?” Clare growled, jogging away from the stagnant pool and up the tunnel.
Shrugging at the object, she put the chain attached to it around her neck and ran hard again at the sound of distant shouts behind her.
***
Sometime later, exactly how long Clare had no clue after all the twisting tunnels and near captures, found her staring at a blank wall and an access ladder leading up into darkness. The decrepit thing was the only feature on the pitted and stained concrete reaching up into the gloom.
Swearing, Clare traced the rusted hand loops up into oblivion and gave up. The rusted ladder disappeared into the dark of an access shaft that vanished far overhead, with no visible exits or levels to be seen. Other than the dangerous climb the ladder presented, Clare had hit a dead end.
The chamber was square at the base, containing piles of foul-smelling rubbish, but a good ten feet above her head, it turned into a vertical circular shaft. Clare did not know how high it was; hell, it could reach all the way to the tower top hundreds of feet above ground for all she knew.
“Well, I am fak’d,” Clare whispered, noting some ladder rungs missing and footfalls echoing down the tunnel toward her.
Moments later an Augy and a mist-head came shambling into sight, eyed the ladder and swore like she had. Taking it as a good sign, Clare wished them luck and ran back up the tunnel to reach the cross tunnel she had passed before taking this bad turn.
Halfway back, she skidded to a halt, bathed in torchlight directed at her by men with shields. “Oh, fak this,” Clare yelled, and ran back toward the vertical shaft to the sound of shouting and gunfire.
Looks like a death climb or nothing. Gods, this has been an absolute cluster-fak of a day, Clare grumbled, but there was little she could do about it. Climb and die, or stay and be shot; it all amounted to the same thing, but at least with the ladder there was a chance.
The locket, or whatever it was, had proven to be a massive annoyance from the moment she put it on, but Clare was simply too frightened to take it off, fearing to lose the thing. It felt heavier than its size indicated, and the damn thing felt like it was going to burn her skin when she shoved it under her clothes to stop it bouncing around.
Grabbing at the now hot object, Clare fumbled and tripped, her finger tapping the object twice in the middle as she tumbled to the ground… and the world exploded into silver light.
In a burst of air accompanied by a flash of light, Clare rolled to a stop among slender trees and long grass, gripping the locket tight. She knew what grass was only from water-damaged books and screen shows.
Breathing hard and trying to catch her breath from the hard running, she lay on the ground for a while, staring up through the branches. Above the canopy sat a brilliant blue sky with small wisps of cloud moving slowly across her view, and all-around insects buzzed and flitted about in the grass.
“Blue…?” Clare muttered at the sky, feeling stunned and utterly confused.
Rolling over, she clambered to her feet and cast her gaze around the little clearing of bluish trees. “Where in the ever-living fak am I?” she whispered in astonishment, eyes wide with fright, then laughed at the forest around her. It had a slightly hysterical edge to it.
“Well, it’s not raining for once,” she whispered, feeling a warm breeze touch her cheek. Still completely confused, and if she were honest with herself, half relieved and half frightened out of her skull, Clare walked through the trees toward a low, distant lapping sound.
It took little time to exit the small stand of trees, but when she did, Clare came to a halt, utterly dumbfounded at the sight before her. A beach stretched for miles in either direction, breakers rolling gently up onto fine white sand bordered by a dense forest of bluish-colored trees.
Three moons lit up the sky, and just the hint of a pale bluish sun rising lit the horizon. Blinking at the unfamiliar sight, Clare sat heavily on the sand and cried. The day had contained just that one too many shocks.
***
Stumbling forward onto barren ground, Jessica felt as if a sack of rocks had been placed on her, and more than a little nauseous from the smell. The air smelled like rotten eggs, and the sky had a yellow and reddish cast to it.
All of those things she could have come to terms with, but it was the dim red sun and two moons that caused her to gasp.
“My God, where am I?” Jessica whispered, looking around in wonder, then coughed. The air was truly disgusting and felt more than a little unsafe to breathe. Taking the locket, she ran her finger around it as she had in the corridor and tapped it twice…
And once again, the world exploded into silver light.
When it cleared, Jessica stood on the side of a hill, a warm breeze swaying long yellow grass and what looked like small, brightly colored birds flitting around her.
Laughing in delight at the blue-tinged sun and cerulean waters of a distant bay, she took a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air. Letting the breath out slowly with a knowing smile, Jessica truly understood what Remy had meant by a gate. “I can see why they wanted this thing,” she said out loud, and immediately rolled her eyes.
You have been on your own too long, Jess. You are talking to yourself.
However, Jessica just smiled, for something had changed in her.
She should have been terrified out of her wits, but honestly, she felt rather relieved and happy. I am just feeling good about escaping Estelle and her henchmen, that is all, Jessica told herself, and while that was true in part, she could not help but feel the change was deeper. Making a disgusted sound at her thoughts, she started out toward the bay, following a worn track on the hill’s grassy slope.
"I guess that woman’s mistreatment hardened me in some way," Jessica muttered, then simply shrugged it off.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jess. You do not know where you are or what you are going to do next. Jessica actually smiled at her thoughts. They were quite sensible, really. Jessica would be deceiving herself to think she was safe, or in fact, much stronger than she was before coming to this place.
What she had become was less timid, if not less frightened, feeling that fear and doubt nibbling at the edges of her thoughts now the euphoria of escape was cooling.
“Still, I am alive if not safe, and I have a means of escape around my neck,” she whispered, patting the object and feeling it was much cooler than it had been. But I really need to learn how to use this properly. Be honest, Jess, you don’t have the foggiest clue of how to get home or where you are going next.
And that was just the plain truth, Jessica thought, before a pang of worry hit her. If I do not work out the use of this locket, I could wander places like this forever. Not that it bothered her much right now, but practically how long would it be until she ran into trouble? With a sharp breath, she felt her heart sink as an even darker thought struck her.
“Or I am followed,” Jessica muttered, and shivered at the thought, but it made sense.
They knew what the locket was, so it follows that they know how to actually use it. Oddly, the thought reassured and frightened her at the same time.
“Then I will run, I guess,” Jessica voiced with a firm nod, but she was honestly not that firm about anything. Still, the day was warm, and the surrounding land truly breathtaking. “And besides, I have not been outside in weeks.”
***
Jessica guessed it was a good hour or more before she reached the sandy shore of the bay she spied on the hillside. There were no people to be seen in this place, but there were signs people indeed once lived here, if the worn track she followed did not betray that. Well, what might pass as people; for honestly, Jessica had no clue, but to think of them as anything else just hurt her head, so people it would be.
Although if people did indeed live here, it had been long ago, Jessica pondered, noting ruins in the distance of what may have been a castle or a temple. It was hard to tell.
However, down by the bay, she saw the empty shells of buildings and broken piles of masonry that may once have been towers. Following her little hill track, it met with what she assumed was a well-paved road long past, but now only broken cobbles and weathered stones peeked above the yellow grass to show it had ever existed.
Perched on a block of stone and frowning at its flowing etched surface, Jessica could make no sense of the language, even though she had seen it in one of the library books.
Giving up, she simply drank in the place’s calm and watched the moon rise over the bay while the sun settled… in the west? Honestly, she was not that sure, but she would stick with what she knew for now. What she knew was that the day was dimming rapidly yet thankfully remained somewhat warm. But worst of all, she was profoundly hungry.
“That you did not think about, now did Jess?” Jessica mumbled, grimacing at the thought and shaking her head in disgust.
However, she had found a little pond of fresh water back beyond the ruined buildings, so for now she was not thirsty.
Seated on her carved stone and watching the moon rise, followed by a second, then a third much smaller moon, to Jessica’s astonishment, she caught sight of tiny pinpricks of light blooming along the far edge of the bay.
Ah, so there are people here. Those have to be lights from a town or settlement, Jessica smiled, then slid off the stone and started out for the lights down the beach. “Where there are lights, there are people, and where there are people, there will be food,” Jessica said firmly. But her own thoughts were less than firm, and the cold fear nibbling at the edge of her mind seemed amused at her boldness.
The moons arced high into the sky, chasing each other to the opposite horizon before Jessica made it to the outskirts of the town. On later reflection, she should have used the locket and run.
This land was so beautiful and peaceful, she thought earlier in the day… but once again her naivety had gotten the best of her, backing away from the hostile human-like figures shouting, throwing stones, and other refuse at her. They stood maybe a few inches at most above four feet with pale, almost blue skin, too many arms and jet-black eyes.
Honestly, Jessica was a giantess compared to these diminutive creatures.
However, she was not fooling herself that these things wanted to run her off at best and kill her at worst. With an angry growl, she turned and ran, running her finger around her locket and tapping it twice. A spear passed through the spot she occupied, but moments after Jessica vanished, and the world turned all to silver and light.
***
Sighing at her once clean glass door, marred by an annoying handprint, Emma picked up her little spray bottle of window cleaner from the café kitchen to clean it again.
“Same shit, just a different day,” Emma mumbled, cleaning the hand smears away. Finished cleaning the offending finger smudges, Emma stopped to regard her reflection in the window.
A slender woman with hazel eyes edged with a hint of violet and long plaited auburn hair stared back at her. Shrugging at the grumpy-faced image, she walked back to the counter, snagging an empty coffee cup on the way past a table containing her only customer. The man had been typing away for hours on his laptop, barely bothering to look up. So, all things being equal, it was a slow night. Not that it mattered all that much. The job was all she could get since study ended, and it honestly sucked in her opinion.
Not much for a history and philosophy graduate, is there, Emie? Emma sighed, stuffing dishes into the dishwasher. I should have done commerce or anything else that actually made money.
Not that any of that mattered either. Life just felt like a dead end, and Emma felt out of options with a book half-finished and debts mounting up.
“Fuck, I need to get out of this town,” she whispered, dumping the last dish into the machine and starting it.
Emma’s old and cracked cell phone, shouting for her attention from the countertop, drew little more than an exasperated sigh. It would be her ex-boyfriend wanting something again. The guy had been a colossal mistake in her opinion, and her current one was not looking much better. Growling at the irritating noise, she snatched her phone, fumbled and dropped it, shattering the screen on the hard café floor.
“Oh, fuck, that is all I need,” Emma hissed, noting the man working at the far table did not even bother to look up at her coarse language.
Picking the ruined phone up, Emma dumped it on the countertop and slumped. The week was just getting better in her opinion, and now she had to get a new phone.
Phone or eat…? Emma thought and snorted at the stupidity of the question.
How the hell did I end up like this?
It was not a question Emma had an answer to, but she would give anything to get the hell out of her hometown and start a new life. But it was all wishful thinking. She was stuck in a crappy job, drowning in debt, and lost in a three-way relationship that just hurt her head to think about.
So, when the man finished and left, Emma found herself alone in the café, which was not unusual this late on a Saturday, and it provided a chance to finish cleaning tables. With this in mind, she casually walked to the vacated booth to wipe the tabletop. The job honestly sucked in her opinion, but it paid the rent if little else… and barely that considering the cost of living.
“Your life is a mess, Emie,” Emma mumbled, sighing at the spray bottle and tables. The sudden appearance of a young woman in a long black lace-covered dress, and no less intricate hat, moving at a dead run, should have been enough of a shock.
But the fact that Emma ran right into her when she appeared out of thin air to both go tumbling to the floor in a blinding flash of light, was yet another.
Dizzy and utterly disoriented, Emma dropped the bottle of glass cleaner and cloth onto the parched desert sand. The woman in black lace lay a few feet away, her hat askew and shaking her head as she pushed herself up from the reddish sand. Emma shook her head in disbelief at the world around her, then growled at the woman in black.
“Where the fuck am I…? And who the fuck are you?” Emma yelled at the woman. The young woman’s eyes went saucer-wide in shock, then narrowed; a disapproving look clouded her face.
“It is not proper to curse in such a way. Have you no manners?” the woman in black replied in a posh English accent, accompanied by a disgusted sniff. Emma screwed up her face in utter incredulity at the woman’s comment.
“Manners…? What the fuck are you going on about?” Emma retorted, balling her fists.
The woman in black, now on her knees, made an exasperated sound, then stood dusting her dress off and fixing her hat. Frowning at the vast desert sands, she made a disgruntled sound before her eyes settled on Emma.
“Manners… which means please do not curse. It is not proper or ladylike,” the young woman said in a terse voice, that Emma could only shake her head at.
Ignoring the prim woman for a moment, Emma stood and surveyed the surrounding dunes. The horizon was nearly featureless and utterly devoid of any tree, building, or indeed rock. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but sand cresting like great frozen waves against a hard, pale blue sky.
Fighting down the rising terror, Emma walked up and shoved the woman, causing her to fall back on the sand, and stood over her. “Listen here, bitch… I want answers before I kick the shit out of you. Who are you, and where the fuck are we?” Emma yelled, working to keep down the rising panic.
The woman regarded Emma with wide, violet-banded hazel eyes before she kicked Emma’s legs out from under her with a booted foot. With a startled yelp, Emma crumpled to the ground with a dagger at her throat and the woman quickly sitting on top of her emitting a feral growl.
Gritting her teeth, the woman visibly calmed her temper before she spoke in her crisp, polished accent. “Who I am is Lady Jessica Munroe, and where you are…?” Jessica said, then sighed, taking the dagger away from Emma’s neck. “Where we are, should I say? Well, your guess is as good as mine,” Jessica added with a shrug, slipping the dagger back into its sheath.
Glancing around, Jessica offered her hand to Emma, who looked at it for a moment before taking it. Helping Emma to her feet, Jessica gave her a wry smile and dusted a little sand from Emma’s arms.
“And your name is?” Jessica asked, letting Emma’s hand go.
Feeling utterly confused and more than a touch scared out of her wits, Emma just sighed in resignation and cast her eyes around the desert once again. “I am Emma,” Emma said, looking off into the distance. Jessica raised her eyebrows at Emma and snorted at the reply.
“Just Emma, and no last name. Well, that is strange,” Jessica replied with another little shrug.
Snorting a bitter little laugh at the comment, Emma returned her attention to the woman in black. “Peterson. I am Emma Peterson,” Emma said in a soft voice, fighting to keep the rising fear at bay when she noticed a second sun dawning on the horizon just over Jessica’s shoulder.
“Where in the fuck are we?” Emma whispered, prompting Jessica to track her gaze and gasp, likewise astounded at the sight of a second, brighter sun rising over the frozen dunes.
“Two fucking suns...?” Emma growled, closing her eyes and trying not to panic. Jessica just shook her head and made a disgusted noise at Emma’s cursing, yet both women could feel the heat radiating from this new sun lifting higher above the dunes.
“I think we need to leave,” Jessica urged, gesturing for Emma to come closer, then gave up with a sigh at the uncomprehending look on Emma’s face and took her by the hand.
“We will go from here, but I must warn you I do not know where we will end up next,” continued Jessica. Emma suddenly looked very frightened when Jessica took hold of an object in the shape of a heart hanging around her neck, captured by a silver chain. The etched surface with its swirling letters and spirals defied the eye in tracing their movements.
The effect made it hard for Emma to look at the object. With a little shrug, Jessica held the object in her palm, and with a little squeeze of her hand holding Emma’s, she tapped the locket twice with her thumb…
And the world turned all too silver and light.
As the heat rose, the spray bottle slowly crumpled, releasing its contents into the parched sand before catching fire and burning in a little puddle of molten plastic.
***
Growling at the stench of the world when she entered, Estelle brushed her brother’s hands from her arms. It stank of rotten eggs, and she felt many times heavier than she should. Pressing a cloth to her nose, she held her locket out, looking for traces of Jessica.
With a disgusted snort, she signaled for Remy and Marcel to place their hands on her arms again. “She was here, but not for long, as the trace is very faint. Her gate is drawing her toward her companion. That is a certainty,” Estelle said, with a malicious little chuckle before her face went blank. “Come! This place is repulsive, and I do not have an obvious target for her, but she is close, within a few dozen worlds.”
In a flash of light and a pop that swirled the luminous fumes, the trio vanished, leaving no obvious trace that they had ever existed on that world. Moments later, a tall, long, blond-haired man popped into existence and looked around.
Oto knew they had just been there. The life trace, while not strong, was clear enough. Screwing up his face at the smell, he shook his head at the rocky, fuming wasteland. What would bring a traveler here? This world is long dead, he thought, casting his eyes around the barren surface. Taking his locket in hand, he moved it around, noting the change in swirls and patterns that flickered on the surface.
“Estelle!” he growled in disgust, then frowned. There was another fainter trace masked by the malice of the stronger one. “Now, who are you?” Oto asked no one, for there was no one to hear.
Holding his locket out, face a mask of concentration, Oto’s eyes suddenly widened, a worried look flashing over his face.
“No, it can’t be. How did you get here?” Oto growled, tapping his gate and likewise vanishing in a swirl of luminous fumes, the look of worry now replaced with fear.
“What is a friend?
A single soul dwelling in two bodies.”
~ Aristotle
Chapter Four
Coffee and croissants
Lauren tumbled and rolled to a stop on the pristine white sand. This would be her sixth hop, as she named them, since the world where she almost became lunch.
The other worlds had been barren wastelands, or so noxious she could hardly breathe, but this world was breath-taking. Three moons lit up the sky overhead, and the sand was almost a powder under her hands, but it was the air that struck her. It was sweet carrying the smell of wildflowers and deep forest streams, the latter not all that surprising with a forest of giant trees marching up to the beach.
Well, they looked like trees, even if the slightly blue cast to the leaves was a little off. Visibly relaxing, Lauren rolled onto her back and watched the sky for a time. She was bone-tired and hungry, but worst of all, she was terribly thirsty. Releasing a deep sigh, she stood up and looked around.
The laugh she gave upon seeing the outlet of a stream from the forest lining the enormous bay had a slightly hysterical edge to it. On later reflection, she could not really blame herself for it. The day had been utterly confusing and unimaginably frightening. The last thing Lauren wanted was disruption.
Honestly, she preferred her own company best, being sort of a recluse if she thought about it.
Shoving down thoughts of home, Lauren made her way to the stream and tasted the water where it ran over a moss-covered rock… well, it looked like moss. And the water tasted? Well, it tasted wonderful, like wildflowers and dark, deep secret pools.
“That is one problem solved,” she said aloud, then laughed at doing so. The problem, Lauren realized, would be food, for even if she found what looked like something to eat, she did not know if it would not just kill her.
Releasing yet another sigh, Lauren walked away from the tiny stream to gaze up and down the beach. “There must be people somewhere in all these worlds,” she whispered. Shrugging, she turned to her left, then hesitated. That direction somehow felt wrong. Why it did so, Lauren could not say.
It just felt wrong.
Turning to her right, she walked up the beach, the gentle breakers rolling onto the sand, almost touching her feet.
***
And Lauren walked. She walked for what honestly felt like hours, but then again, she did not really have any true reference for comparison. Puzzled, she stood pondering a familiar sight that looked totally out of place in this world. It was a set of small boot prints.
With a crooked smile at the impressions in the sand, Lauren followed them. “Well, I have nothing better to do,” she muttered and shrugged, tracing the boot prints up the beach into the distance. Having tried the locket and finding it would not work; Lauren nearly had a panic attack until a thought struck her. Maybe it can only be used a few times before it has to rest or something?
Lauren did not know if this was true or not, but she had decided that it was, and that would be that… well, until it wasn’t, and she would deal with that when she had to.
Not long after finding the boot prints, she spied a human form lying on the sand some distance away.
Thank God, another person, she thought with some relief.
On reflection, Lauren should have been a bit more cautious than she was. But in her defense, it had been a day of insanity, so if she acted a little odd, then it was not really her fault, now, was it?
So, as she stood a few feet away from a young, sleeping red-haired girl wearing what looked like clothing all the wrong size for her slight form, Lauren should have expected the hostile reaction she received. The girl awoke with a start and immediately swept Lauren’s feet from under her, crashing her onto the sand. Seconds later, the girl had Lauren over on her stomach, hands twisted behind her back.
“Wer bist du?” the girl hissed at Lauren. When she got no response, the girl twisted Lauren’s arm harder and spat the same words at her again with more urgency. “Wer bist du?” the girl growled, sounding almost frantic. It took Lauren a moment to realize the words sounded German.
Well, at least she is from Earth, Lauren thought. She could not have been further from the truth.
“I don’t understand German,” Lauren shouted as the girl twisted her arm harder. Scrambling away from Lauren, the girl quickly kneeled with her head touching the sand.
“Sorry, I know not you cast noble,” the girl said in trembling, broken English. Lauren rolled over and regarded the girl. She was tiny and looked half-starved, to be honest.
“What are you talking about?” Lauren finally said, getting to her knees. The girl lifted her head a little, watching Lauren with no little fear.
“You are noble. You speak their words clean. Wear better… cloth,” the girl said, quickly pointing a tiny finger at Lauren’s clothes. Lauren could not help but smile at the broken English the girl spoke. Shaking her head, Lauren stood and approached the obviously frightened child.
Child...? Well, the girl looked like one. It was honestly hard to tell, but she could not be older than twelve or thirteen.
“A noble…? What… like a queen or something?” Lauren said and snorted at the idea. “I am no such thing,” Lauren continued, and offered her hand to the cowering girl. When the girl did not move, Lauren kneeled and gently touched her head.
“Come on. We can work this out as we walk, and then we should leave this world,” Lauren whispered.
The frightened girl sat up and nodded, with a mixture of fear and wonder. “Why you care? Noble, hate low caste from under-city?” the girl replied in a worried voice.
Frowning at the heated reply, Lauren simply sighed and took the girl’s hand, bringing her to her feet. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you are saying, but I hardly know you well enough to hate you,” Lauren said with a reassuring smile for the girl and brushed the messy red hair from her face. “I am Lauren. What is your name?” Lauren asked. The girl gave her a quizzical smile and simply shrugged.
“I Clare,” she said and shrugged again. Lauren returned the answer with a crooked smile and squeezed her hand.
“Well, Clare, we should see if we can find food or leave this world before we starve,” Lauren replied, brushing a little sand from Clare’s baggy clothing. Clare nodded enthusiastically at Lauren’s question as they started down the beach, hand in hand.
What on earth have I fallen into? Lauren thought, wondering how the day could get any stranger.
***
Holding the oddly dressed woman’s hand tight while the bright light cleared, Jessica sniffed at staying on her feet when the forward momentum ceased.
It was an effect she noticed the first time she traveled worlds, as she was thinking of it. Emma, however, stumbled, having only one experience so far with the sensation of travel. The woman at once intrigued and scandalized Jessica.
She is wearing men’s trousers and a shirt of some kind that reveals too much chest. Heavens, it does not even cover her arms or her neckline! Jessica grimaced. Jessica saw herself as a little rebellious, but what this woman wore would have given her stepmother a fit and send her aunt into a murderous rage.
Emma frowned at the way Jessica was looking at her and cocked her head to the side. “What are you looking at?” Emma growled, her tone less than friendly.
Jessica just grunted and cast her eyes around the dingy, wet alley they had appeared in. “Your clothes are odd and utterly scandalous,” Jessica said with a little laugh.
Shaking her head at the pointed comment, Emma bit her lower lip for a moment and walked away to sit on a wooden crate shoved against a damp brick wall. “Well, whose funeral did you escape from? You look like you belong in the nineteenth century,” Emma grumbled, gracing Jessica with a sarcastic smile.
Turning her head just slightly to appraise the woman, Jessica gave her a flat, narrow-eyed stare. “My uncle’s, if you must know. And as to the other, the date was Friday, March the fourteenth, nineteen thirteen, to be precise, when I escaped if I counted the days correctly,” Jessica retorted, offering a similar sarcastic smile in return.
Emma went bright red with embarrassment. “Oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to be rude,” Emma said, lowering her eyes to the cobbles.
Jessica just shrugged. She honestly felt nothing for her uncle, as callous as it sounded. “I never really knew the man, Emma, so no need to apologize,” Jessica replied, glancing up and down the narrow alley. A little frown on Emma’s brow suddenly turned to a wide-eyed stare for Jessica, earning a twin expression from her. “I feel it is my turn to ask why you are looking at me that way,” Jessica said, folding her arms with a flat stare. Emma just shook her head at the woman, a bewildered look on her face.
“Nineteen thirteen, are you for fucking real?” Emma asked with wide eyes.
Jessica just rolled her eyes in reply and held her hand out to Emma. “Please mind your language, Emma. Anyway, I think it would be for the best if we kept moving. I do not know where you come from, but where I do, such places as these are considered unsafe.”
Raising an eyebrow at Jessica’s significant look, Emma scanned the walls of the alley, noting the dampness and muffled sounds of the city. Looking up through the narrow canyon of brick, she gave the scene above her a wry smile.
The buildings must be hundreds of stories tall. High windows with rounded tops spilled warm light out onto the alley, and odd-looking posters graced the rough brick walls in various states of decay.
Standing abruptly, Emma took Jessica’s offered hand. “Have you any idea of where we are?” Emma asked, frowning at the distant alley exit.
Jessica simply laughed and shook her head. “Not the foggiest clue, dear Emma,” Jessica replied. With a sigh and a shake of her head, Emma allowed Jessica to pull her toward the alley opening.
At the alley entrance, Jessica gaped in utter astonishment at the city beyond, and the profusion of long, sleek vehicles slipping by the slower-moving steam trams huffing their way up the rain-wet street.
Adding to the general traffic chaos, swift steam bikes and other smaller vehicles weaved in and out of the larger ones, while high above the bustling streets, great airships docked and undocked from platforms between sky-reaching towers.
In counterpoint to the confusing stream of traffic, she spied sleek steam engines thundering along arched bridges between buildings, and all around crisply dressed citizens went about their day.
For Emma, it looked like nothing less than a set from some steampunk movie, but for Jessica, it had many elements of home nestled amongst the fantastical.
I do not know where we are, but I have never been so pleased to see a steam train in all my life, or a parasol for that matter, Jessica thought, smiling at the familiar clothing of the people passing in the street. Although their well-groomed attire was a deep cause for concern, considering the odd clothes Emma wore… Well, in Jessica’s opinion.
I am going to have to find her something more fitting to wear if we are to blend in here, mused Jessica, having decided to stay and rest in this city for a time. The problem was that she had no money and no place to stay.
Well, I have my gold and ruby ring and my silver bracelet. Estelle never took them, and they must be worth something here? With a sigh of determination, Jessica set out to cross the street, only to jump back with a yelp, narrowly missing a passing steam bike.
Shaking her head and glancing at a wide-eyed Emma, Jessica thought better of crossing the street and started off in the direction the bike was heading.
Well, one direction is as good as another, I guess.
With a little laugh, and holding Emma’s hand tight, Jessica simply shrugged at the expression of resignation as they set off down the street.
***
There was little conversation while they walked, each woman lost in their own private thoughts. Jessica thought about how lucky she had been to escape.
Oddly, she was not all that bothered that she was essentially lost.
What have I got to return to? Father will undoubtedly send me away again, and Millicent will probably thrash me no less harshly than Estelle did for having run away, thought Jessica, and made a disgusted sound at her thinking, drawing a quick, worried glance from Emma.
“You don’t sound happy,” Emma muttered, returning her gaze to the foot traffic ahead. Emma, having elicited a few raised eyebrows and outright gasps while they walked because of her odd attire, looked dejected and not a little frightened.
“Oh no, Emma, you misunderstand. I have not been this happy in weeks,” Jessica replied, turning a pained look on Emma. “Believe me, dear Emma. This is far more desirable than where I have been.” The comment made Emma suddenly stop and look at Jessica in open astonishment.
But all it earned was a frustrated sigh from Jessica as she likewise drew to a stop. She really wanted to keep moving and find a place to eat and sleep.
“Jesus, where the fuck have you been that would make this insanity look good?” Emma replied in amazement. The question drew a hunted look that flitted through Jessica’s eyes before she frowned, tightened her lips, and simply carried on walking.
“Please do not curse at me, Emma. I find it offensive,” Jessica snapped, not looking back.
Emma rolled her eyes at the retreating woman and quickly caught up with Jessica, pulling her to a stop.
“Look, Jessica, we need to trust each other. I don’t want to be here even if you do,” Emma said, making an exasperated sound at Jessica’s hostile glare. “You were the one who got me into this fucked-up mess, remember, so don’t you think you owe me a fucking explanation?”
The slap Emma received spun her around before she sank to her knees, dazed. Kneeling, Jessica snatched Emma’s chin in her hand, lips held in a tight, angry cast. “Don’t curse at me, Emma. I told you it is offensive and unladylike to do so,” Jessica hissed between clenched teeth.
Narrowing her eyes, Emma balled her fists and growled at Jessica, but before she could move, Emma froze with a dagger at her throat. “Jesus, you are a psycho bitch,” Emma snarled, eyeing the cold look on Jessica’s face.
Jessica just rolled her eyes after a moment, slipped the dagger back into its bed and stood, offering Emma her hand. “I am sorry for my temper, but I have been through much of late, and I find my patience a little thin,” Jessica replied, forcing a tight smile. Emma gave her a black look before she took the offered hand.
“A little thin...? Oh, you don’t say,” Emma said, attempting to copy Jessica’s upper-class English accent.
Jessica tried to fight the smile twitching her lips, but gave up, laughed and put her arms around Emma, earning a surprised look. “I am truly sorry, Emma,” Jessica said with a sigh and pursed her lips, eyeing the woman for a moment. “I agree. We must learn to trust each other, so I will tell you my story, and you can tell me yours,” Jessica continued with a sharp nod.
Emma just nodded in return and patted the woman’s back before pulling away. “Agreed, but where in the…?” Emma caught herself about to curse and stopped, eliciting a snorted laugh from Jessica as she took her hand.
“You were going to ask where it is we are going. Correct?” Jessica asked with a crooked smile. Emma simply nodded with a crooked one of her own, earning an amused expression and a shrug in return from Jessica. “Well, dear Emma, I don’t have the foggiest,” Jessica replied, tugging Emma into a walk. Emma simply rolled her eyes with a resigned sigh.
***
Jessica actually haggled with the jeweler, something she had seen her father do when he had taken her and mother to Cairo as a small girl.
Well, she thought she remembered it, yet like many other things, it felt foggy and indistinct. But the memory of her actual mother brought an unexpected pang of homesickness to her, and a single tear made even more bitter for the fact she had just sold the last link to her mother she owned.
Well, I have to eat, mother, and the ruby fetched what I hoped was a good price.
The problem was that Jessica was not all that sure what she had received amounted to a good sum. But she was happy her German and French were immaculate, considering the jeweler spoke a very broken mix of them, all muddled with English.
Flashing a smile at Emma, Jessica took the roll of notes and a good pile of coins, thanked the man, and exited the small store in search of something to eat.
Her stomach growled at the smell of fresh bread and baked goods coming from the food vendor carts and open-air cafés that lined a small square they stumbled across. Selecting what looked to be a tidy little café built into the base of a towering building, Jessica set out over the only green space they had seen toward the smell of fresh coffee and buttery pastries.
***
Sighing in satisfaction, Jessica placed her coffee cup down, a contented smile warming her face. The sale of her ruby ring had indeed brought a tidy sum. Well, if the prices in this café were any measure of it.
Emma, likewise, seemed more relaxed, with a cup in her hand, feet up, and stretched out in their chosen plush booth. Jessica selected a comfortable red leather upholstered booth toward the back of the café when she entered, which afforded a clear view of the door, wanting to monitor those coming and going. Estelle would follow, and while she had no direct evidence of it as yet, Jessica felt it foolish not to be careful.
“So, tell me, Jessica, how in the hell did all of this get started? What is it that would make this insanity better than where you came from?” Emma suddenly asked, placing her cup on the table and breaking a croissant in half.
Jessica stiffened at the question and the sharp eyes watching her.
She had underestimated this woman, with all the uncertainty. Emma was far from stupid, and indeed very sharp of wit Jessica found through their conversation over breakfast. It surprised them both to find the time was near eight in the morning when Jessica spoke to the waiter in that same broken mix of three languages.
Emma held a hard look around the edges of her eyes that caused Jessica to lower hers to the table at the blunt question. The same violet band around Emma’s eyes which Jessica had confused her, but she pushed the thought away. If I have it, then so could others, was Jessica’s guess, but it was not really all that important.
“I am sorry, Emma, but it is hard for me to speak of the events before we came here, but I will try,” Jessica replied in a strained voice, but as she relayed the events of the past weeks, Emma’s eyes slowly softened then showed tears.
Finally, Emma sat on the same side of the booth, taking Jessica into her arms. “Shit, I don’t even know where to begin with your ordeal. Just be glad they can’t reach you here,” Emma said, squeezing her tight. Jessica stiffened slightly, causing Emma to narrow her eyes. “What have you left out, Jessica?” Emma asked, her face paling as she understood the worried look on Jessica’s face. “Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. They can follow you?”
Jessica sighed and nodded.
“I suspect so, Emma. Although I have no direct evidence of it, I think it only logical that if they knew what this device was, then they would also know the use of it,” Jessica replied, feeling oddly ashamed she left that little detail out.
Emma rolled her eyes but also squeezed Jessica tight again. “Well, that is just fucking grand,” Emma said in a resigned voice, causing a pained expression to flash over Jessica’s face at Emma’s strong language.
“Please, Emma, I do truly find it offensive. All the cursing,” Jessica said with a frown and a glance at Emma.
Emma simply frowned back and began laughing. It started as a little giggle, turning rapidly into a silvery sound. “We are quite probably being chased by murderous psychos, with no way of knowing where they are. We have no way of knowing what world we will end up in next, and absolutely no understanding of how to get home. But you are worried about me swearing?” Emma asked with an incredulous smile.
Jessica frowned for a moment, a puzzled look on her face that warmed into a smile of her own. “Yes, I believe that is the long and short of it, Emma,” replied Jessica with a little shrug.
Emma just laughed harder. “Jesus, you are mad,” Emma said, rolling her eyes and screwing up her face at Jessica’s answer.
***
Scanning the bustling street of Britsamia, Oto smiled at the familiar sight and dropped his locket back into his jacket pocket.
She is close, and she has another with her, Oto noted, feeling a second life trace now attached to the gate Jessica carried.
Pursing his lips at the dual echo of Jessica and her companion felt through his own device, Oto set off down the busy morning streets of Britsamia.
There was a little square with many cafés in the direction his gate had shown. Yet he knew this place well, and the gate did not really need to tell him such… and nor could it.
Oto also knew they would both be starving, since the gate fed off their energy. And in there lay the first problem. Oto knew all too well the dangers of long exposure to the direct effects of a gate, and how dangerous they became if overcharged and overused.
They have all been paired, and once The Never has you, it never lets you go, Oto mused, his worry deepening.
There was no going back for either of them, or the two new lives caught in the web he was yet to track. Oto felt them as an echo through the gate he rescued from William and the one owned by the girl he tracked. Their echo concerned Oto deeply, for it was strong and far stronger than it should be.
Their presence rippled The Never, sending waves washing through No Space. The only conclusion Oto had was that one of the girls he was yet to track must hold a sibling gate to the one owned by Jessica. How they obtained it, Oto did not know, but he needed to find them all before their gift truly emerged.
And when the gift surfaces, nothing is ever the same. But should The Black Hand find you first? That thought made Oto shudder at what could happen should the martial arm of The Council of Worlds snatch these young women before he could save them. Still, he should be a step ahead of Estelle and The Black Hand.
“And best you pray I am, for they will do worse than kill you both if they catch you,” Oto mumbled, eyeing the morning foot traffic. The girl Oto tracked puzzled him.
Every time he walked a world Jessica passed through, Oto felt her gift growing stronger and echoing back to the others he had yet to track.
Growing far stronger than it should, Oto mused.
Yet, he also knew the life trace Jessica projected. It echoed back and forth, rippling through his gate, and the one he kept in safekeeping. That echoing trace all but confirmed it was Jessica he was tracking, as it also confirmed her as Ar’liana’s child. Oto was sure of it. The imprint felt like Ar’liana, yet distinctly that of the girl he had helped hide so many years ago.
Damn you, William. How did she end up lost in The Never?
It was not a question Oto had an answer for, and neither was it the first time he regretted leaving only William knowing where the girl was hidden. Ar’liana would be engaged if she knew William had failed, and Oto lost track of the girl.
But Ar’liana had died years ago or simply vanished. Oto was not entirely sure where Ar’liana was now… no one was, and least of all her sisters.
But Catherin, the woman Ar’liana charged with Jessica’s care, was long dead because of Anna d’Aviamier’s slip in security, and Oto’s unwillingness to face the truth.
Your stepmother died in my arms, Jessica, and your actual mother, Ar’liana...? Gods damn it! We hid you for a reason beyond The Council of Worlds and The Solar Court. Your grandfather must never have you, Jessica. That was Ar’liana’s request. To keep you hidden and keep you safe. Yet, like so many other memories of the past twenty years, Oto was only as sure as he could be, considering parts of that memory were fragmentary at best. Oto knew the telltale signs of a mind blank, having experienced it at least once.
It was a talent Ar’liana had along with memory alteration, and it all but confirmed it was her doing. The problem was why?
But it seemed a futile question, with Ar’liana long vanished, along with the threat that the old emperor would ever return.
And with Estelle turned by The Black Hand, that just leaves you, Jessica, as all we have left to show for our struggles. The gods as my witness, Estelle will not have you or your bond mates, Oto mused, and growled at the mess. Or was it the reckless woman, Ar’liana? Honestly, Oto was not all that sure, and growled again, eliciting a surprised look from a man in a leather top hat trying to start a stalled steam bike. Still, as your gift surfaces, you will seek others like you out through instinct, so it is lucky for you and your companion, Jessica, that I am no novice and understand how the gates you carry interact.
The attraction between the devices each girl carried meant Oto should retrieve Jessica before Estelle and her supposed brothers. Each locket built an affinity with its owner, and through that, their sibling gates, meaning Oto had an edge Estelle did not. He held the sibling of Jessica’s gate nestled safely in a null bag. And in there lay the third problem.
You two have no way of canceling the effects for a time, and hiding without the null bags that cut the device off from its siblings and hosts.
Lost in thought, it took Oto a moment to notice the vibration change on his device. But the soft sound of a fading bell, heralding the arrival of another gate uncomfortably close by, grabbed his attention. Starting at the sound, Oto stopped and looked around before he spat a name in an almost animal-like growl and set off at a dead run down the street.
“Estelle!” Oto growled and pounded along harder.
***
Lauren ran along the beach, holding Clare’s hand, the sand pulling at their feet. Far from the paradise this world first appeared, it was apparent it had its own share of dangers.
Tired from walking, and both feeling profoundly hungry, they slept for a time on the light bluish-green grass at the edge of the white sands. Lauren felt she had slept but a moment before Clare woke her, near shouting in her broken mix of French and German.
The German was a mystery, but the French she could understand.
Back along the beach, Lauren saw what looked like men and maybe horses. It was hard to tell in the haze of distance. What seemed certain was their hostility; angry hooting cries all but confirming it.
Great, I am being hunted again, Lauren grumbled, fighting back the fear.
She could not have been more correct, with the sounds of animal howls drawing rapidly closer.
Having tried her locket when she first saw the men and horses, Lauren found it still did not work. Clare gave her a puzzled look when she started frantically playing with the jewelry, and just growled, pulling at Lauren’s arm until they both started running down the beach. However, it was obvious the people were gaining on them, if indeed they were people at all.
They were riding what looked like large, shaggy horses, except they would lower their heads and sniff the ground much like a bloodhound would.
Lungs burning and legs feeling like jelly, Lauren knew they could not keep this pace up much longer.
“Come on, we need to get off this beach,” Lauren shouted, pulling on Clare’s arm and turning them toward the dense forest that lined the idyllic white sands.
Crashing through the brush and grasping branches, it soon became apparent that entering the forest might have been a mistake.
Now forced to push through the thorny bushes and clinging brush, trying desperately not to trip on the uneven footing; their progress almost came to a halt. The ground was a twisted, writhing mass of protruding roots and rocks. Strange insects flitted past, while small hairy animals scattered to safety at their passing.
Forcing their way through, Lauren felt her fear rise at the sounds of their pursuers now close behind, beating back the brush in search of their quarry.
Clare’s grip on her hand grew tight and painful at the sound of sniffing and snarling coming from the surrounding trees. Still, it seemed the pursuers were making no better progress than they were, but Lauren had no illusions they would escape if but for a miracle.
But sometimes miracles happen…
So intent on keeping forward movement through the dense brush and trees, neither Lauren nor Clare noticed the upward climb.
With a yelp of surprise, Lauren stopped abruptly, pulling Clare in tight at the sheer drop before their feet.
The forest simply ceased to exist, leaving a gap of some fifty feet or more before it began again. In between lay a deep green river flowing through towering canyon walls. The drop to the water probably felt much higher than it really was, but with the sounds of pursuers closing in, and nowhere to go, Lauren was simply out of options. With a startled shout from Clare, Lauren did the only thing she could do and jumped, pulling Clare along with her. As the green water rose to meet them, Lauren looked up to see figures appearing along the canyon rim.
They have too many arms, Lauren thought absently before the shock of the ice-cold water hit her.
***
Clinging to each other in the swift-flowing water, Lauren floundered along, searching desperately for a way to exit the icy river.
It quickly became apparent that Clare could not swim when the small girl panicked and nearly drowned in the first few fear-filled minutes that followed their plunge from the canyon rim.
Clare now clung to Lauren’s back while she tried desperately to keep them both above water. How much longer Lauren could keep this up in the swift, cold flow she did not know, but not much longer, that was for sure. The only positive Lauren could see coming from all of this was that the strange creatures were gone, along with their strange dog-like mounts.
I have never wanted to be at home studying more than I do now, Lauren thought, then rolled her eyes at it and focused on treading the cold water.
It could just be her imagination, or an effect of being so damn cold, but Lauren was sure the flow was slowing down. The canyon walls were certainly lower and becoming bolder, strewn. Still, there was no obvious way to climb out with the canyon walls still sheer and boulders larger than her car, but it heralded hope that things might change.
In a moment of insight, Lauren slowly directed their movement toward the opposite shore from the one they had leaped from. Well, if those things follow, at least we can have a river between us, Lauren thought, her teeth chattering in the river’s icy embrace.
Bobbing along and watching the cliffs get smaller, Lauren occasionally touched the bottom, now that they were close to the far bank. It was a good sign, and honestly more than a simple relief, with her hands feeling numb and legs becoming sluggish.
Finally, as the cliffs fell away to form rough shingle banks in the shelter of the cliffs, Lauren felt they could at last get out of the cold. Yet, as she swam the final few feet, Lauren felt Clare’s hands slip and grabbed at them. The girl was unconscious; her face blue, breath coming in little gasps.
“Shit, we have to get you out of this water,” Lauren hissed, getting no response from Clare. Lauren was a slender woman herself and struggling, but the tiny girl was obviously succumbing to the icy water faster than she was.
With a final effort, Lauren dragged Clare out of the river and up a shingle and sand beach. She was still breathing, but it was shallow and coming in quick gasps. Damn, I have to get you warm, Lauren thought, casting her eyes around the narrow beach and the wood strewn around the strand.
Well, it looked like wood, she thought.
To her right stood towering boulders with a generous gap in between them that would make for at least some shelter, Lauren thought, pulling Clare up the beach a little more. Checking Clare one last time, Lauren quickly set about collecting wood and piling it far back into the gap. When she finished, she laughed and shook her head at the pile pushed deep into the cleft.
“I don’t have a bloody clue how to start a fire without a match,” Lauren muttered, then turned to the girl. Maybe you have a match or something on you.
Quickly searching the tiny girl’s pockets, Lauren noted a chain around her neck and pulled it up, frowning at the object’s moving surface.
“So, you came here the same way I did?” Lauren asked an unresponsive Clare. Pursing her lips, she slipped the locket off Clare and carried on searching.
Maybe luck was changing, for moments later, Lauren found what appeared to be a lighter. Grabbing handfuls of dried yellow grass, she shoved it into the pile of wood, then flipped the lid on the object and spun the flint wheel.
It sputtered a few times, obviously wet, before it produced a tiny flame she quickly set to the wood. Retrieving Clare, Lauren simply dragged the girl by the fire and set about undressing her and then herself, laying the damp clothes on the surrounding boulders. Shivering, and only noting absently that Clare was not a child but a mature if small woman, Lauren snuggled into her to provide some of her own warmth.
***
By pure chance, Lauren had chosen the spot to place the fire well when the night cold drew in. It could not be seen from the far bank, and it afforded at least some shelter from the light wind that set in as evening fell.
Clare, while still unconscious, was breathing better. Her skin looked flushed, not blue, and she made little noises in her sleep.
Lauren, having checked that Clare still breathed, sat scooping up water to drink at the river’s edge. Finished, she stared at her moonlit reflection for a time. Lauren looked surprisingly sure, considering the fact that she was still damn terrified. Snorting a laugh, she took Clare’s device from her slightly damp pocket. The object, while shaped like a hand, was unmistakably a sibling of the same device that she owned. Feeling it sting her, Lauren almost dropped the item at the same time she felt her own one growing warm against her chest, glowing lightly then dimming down. Carefully holding Clare’s locket by its chain and frowning at the odd distant ringing, Lauren returned to the campfire. There was an almost imperceptible sensation tickling at her senses, like a far-off voice calling to Lauren as she stood. Clare was awake now, looking at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“What is it?” Lauren asked, crouching next to Clare, a worried look on her face. Clare looked at the locket, then up at Lauren.
“It called me,” Clare whispered, her eyes wide with wonder and not a little touch of fear.
Lauren just nodded and placed the chain around the Clare’s neck.
“I know. I heard it too,” Lauren replied, sitting down next to Clare with a troubled sigh.
