Hey, this was a quick one. Hope I'm not going too fast for
people. Anyhow, here's 7. Getting there...
Django Wexler (khaine)
khaine@mindless.com
"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist
the
black flag, and begin slitting throats."
H. L. Mencken
Chapter Seven
"I get it. I'm delirious, right?"
The tall, thin figure nodded. He was dressed entirely in black,
and so gaunt she could see the shape of his bones under what looked like
velvet. His eyes were mismatched, one pure white and the other a black
hole.
"So this is just some kind of fever dream." She looked around
at a freeze-frame of Main Street, at noon. People were everywhere,
stopped in the mid-stride, while driving, or sitting at caf� tables.
She felt a little bit ghostly as she wandered through them. "Am I going
to die?"
The dark figure smiled. Its voice was surprisingly melodious.
"You're tough, you know."
"Answer the question."
"I wonder what it would take to get to you." He walked closer,
his shoes clicking on the asphalt. It was the only sound in the frozen
twilight world. "Mary. What would it take to really bother you? Not
dying, that's for sure."
"I won't say it wouldn't *bother* me," said Mary, smiling
without humor.
"You know what I mean."
"I've been doing this a long time." She sighed. "A long, long
time. After a while it sort of gets to you."
"So what can I show you that would disturb you? This is a
nightmare, after all. How about this?"
A severed head appeared at his side, hovering in mid-air. It
was Robyn's; her eyes were open and staring, and blood dripped slowly
from the stump. Mary raised an eyebrow.
"You're lucky this isn't real, demon."
"Or what?" He leaned closer. "You'd blast me to fragments? Go
ahead, if it makes you feel any better."
There was a long pause before the demon straightened. "However,
I think this is the wrong track." He tossed the head aside with a
gesture, and Mary winced as it bounced along the street. She kept her
eyes on his skull-like face, watching his black-and-white eyes.
"I'm getting sick of this dream."
"We're just getting started." He rounded suddenly. "What else
would you like to see? Your father's head on a pike? Your sister's
heart on a platter? Would any of that really effect you?"
Mary let out a long, hissing breath. "I'm getting really sick
of you."
"What are you afraid of, Mary?"
She clenched one hand into a fist, felt the air stir sluggishly
and shape itself into an infinitely thin blade. "Nothing that you've
got."
The demon spread his hands as she hurled the razor. It caught
him in the throat, but his whole form exploded into black smoke on
contact. Mary smiled in satisfaction before she felt the odd tickle of
her power stirring.
"What---"
More blades formed -- a dozen, a hundred, hovering around her in
an intricate dance, glinting briefly in the noonday sun. They were all
oriented inwards, and Mary had a brief mental picture of what would
happen if they all fell in at once. She laughed.
"Is this how you're trying to scare me? With threats? You can
do better than that."
The demon's voice came out of nowhere. "I can, indeed."
And all the blades reversed, and scythed outwards. The frozen
people standing closest to Mary simply exploded into fragments as the
razors passed through them without even slowing. The car she was
standing next to disintegrated into a storm of metal and plastic, mixed
with the goo that had been the people inside. Her power flared again,
and again, and more razors appeared; the storm of destruction marched
out in concentric circles, destroying everything in its path. Store
windows shattered. Buildings started their long, awful collapses. And
everywhere there was blood in the air, as statue after motionless statue
exploded into a spray of organic debris.
And Mary realized, with a sudden, sick certainty, that she was
laughing.
Robyn awoke to the yammering of her alarm clock, and tried to
remember who she was.
[I was...] She remembered a flash of blue light, and floating
somewhere timeless. And someone -- more like some[thing], actually --
asking questions. Not exactly asking, either, but somehow plucking what
it wanted to know directly from her mind. And hovering in front of her
was the shape of a monster.
[Not a monster.] She shifted uneasily, still not opening her
eyes. [A champion. I copied its shape, and that thing built it for
me.] Somehow she'd thought it would feel uncomfortable, but the reality
was anything but. It was the ultimate act of creation.
In middle school, Robyn had entertained dreams of being an
artist. It took her only a little while to find out she had very little
talent for it, and she came away barely able to draw a passable cartoon.
But one thing that had struck her was how clearly she could see what she
wanted in her mind, and how difficult it was to transfer that image to
paper. Somehow, the body interfered -- by the time a drawing was
transferred to reality, it had become grotesque.
This was different. It was magic. [I just think, and it
exists.] It was the act of creation about which everyone secretly
dreams -- pick up the paintbrush for the first time and end up with a
masterpiece, sit down at the piano and compose a symphony.
[Jesus Christ.] She took a deep breath. [Is that how Ayre
feels all the time?] The thought of the god in his realm, able to
create anything he desired merely by act of will, made her almost sick
with envy. [Calm down, Robyn.]
With that, she opened her eyes and returned uncomfortably to
full consciousness. Her familiar ceiling stared back at her, with its
pattern of cracks that was an old man if you looked at it one way and a
random pattern of cracks if you looked at it another. The same old
posters were half-heartedly pasted onto the walls, the same leaning pile
of used books by the head of her bed. The same computer, the power
light of the monitor blinking on and off like a winking green eye, and
the same sleek black video game console sitting next to it. The same
piles of manga on the floor.
All that was different, in fact, was the cobalt-blue stone that
nestled heavily between her breasts. She fished it out, just to make
sure that it was real, and admired its semi-translucency for a moment
before tucking it back into her shirt. Ayre had explained it, she
remembered, before sending her home on the verge of exhaustion.
["It's a battery, really. Stored energy, enough to bring you
back here. Since you're from the Timestream to start with, transit
either way is pretty simple. So don't hesitate to use it -- I can
always make another."] Then he'd winked, and brushed his pale blue hair
to one side, and she'd found herself unaccountably blushing.
[I'm *glad* it's real. I don't think I could take it, if all
this turned out to be a dream.]
Robyn rolled out of bed and found herself in her pajamas. There
was another difference in the room, now that she took the time to look
around -- there was black silk robe hanging behind the door. She smiled
to herself, softly, and padded down the stairs.
[What happens now? In a way I don't even care.] Just the
knowledge that she was part of something *different* was incredibly
buoyant. There was, she forced herself to admit, an element of conceit
to it -- [all those people that think their world is real, and the sum
total of all that is. I may not know much, but at least I know how much
there *is* to know.]
The wall clock read 10:15, and she wandered into the kitchen
expecting to find it empty. Robyn was therefore somewhat surprised that
her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of something
hot and steaming and looking concerned.
"Hey, Mom." Robyn waved lazily. "What are you--"
"Shhh!" Her mom held up a hand for silence, staring intently at
the television. Robyn blinked and focused on the scene of devastation.
"--the police now believe they have found the remains of the
culprit, who was apparently blown to bits in the final explosion.
Investigators now suspect the criminal was either wearing a suicide
bomb, which he accidentally triggered, or mishandled some of his own
weaponry or explosives. No word yet on possible accomplices, though
several eyewitnesses have reported unidentified figures returned fire on
the suspect.
"Rescue workers worked their way to another couple today who had
been trapped in a convenience store for the last eight hours.
Authorities communicated with the trapped man via cell-phone, and report
that he was in no danger. The workers expect to find no more survivors,
which brings the final death toll for this horrific crime to fourteen,
including four police officers and two young children."
The images mercifully cut to a smiling anchor in a bone white
studio. "Thanks, Jim. We'll have more on that story in a moment --
we're getting ready for a press conference with Chief of Police Kyle
Inson and Agent Sims of the FBI. In the meantime--"
The TV went mute, and Robyn stared in dull disbelief. Her
mother shifted uneasily.
"I stayed home today." She took a long pull from the mug. "I
walk through that square on my way to the bus station, and I
couldn't..."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
Robyn moved to her mother's side and put one hand on her
shoulder.
"Jesus. You've been asleep since I got home -- this must be the
first you'd heard of it."
"Y...yeah." Robyn nodded, still shocked.
"It's awful." Her mother shook her head, slowly. "Just
awful..."
"Yeah."
Her mother looked up as she broke contact and almost ran back to
the stairwell. "Robyn?"
She stopped. "It's okay. I just...I need to..."
"I get it. If you want to talk about it..."
"T...thanks." She practically sprinted up the steps and closed
the door to her room so hard the wall shook. It was an effort to keep
her voice below a scream. "*Ayre!*"
There was a long moment of silence, and her hand darted to the
heavy stone on its chain. Before she could grab it, though, the room
filled with sparkling light, there was a sound like 'whaum', and the
blue-haired god faded into existence. The bright smile he'd arrived
with faded as she rounded on him.
"Ayre." She breathed, carefully, and kept her voice low.
"What. The hell. Did. You. Do?"
"Do?" He looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"*Don't* play dumb with me." She thumbed on the TV, with the
volume off. They were back to showing aerial views of the devastation.
"What the hell is that?"
"The aftermath of a battle."
"*Aftermath*? They said that fourteen people died!"
"I don't doubt it."
Robyn stepped forward until she was almost face to face with
him. "God *damn* it, Ayre. What did you do with that thing I made?"
They locked gazes for a moment; Ayre's black-and-white eyes
tightened. Before she could move he put one hand flat on her chest and
shoved her backwards; Robyn stumbled and ended up sitting on the bed.
He was standing above her before she even realized he'd moved.
"*What did you expect?*" Ayre snarled. "You may not realize
this, but this isn't some fucking game for us. There's no reset,
there's no continue -- if we don't get it right, we are all going to
die. This isn't one of your twinkly little girl's shows. We're
fighting people who want power and are willing to destroy my entire race
to get it. Do you think they worry about civilian casualties? They'd
waste you people for fun if they could get away with it." He leaned
progressively closer as he spoke, until his face was just inches from
hers. Robyn swallowed.
"But -- I mean..." Her voice was tiny. "I made that thing."
"And if you hadn't, more people would be dead. Maybe not the
same people, I suppose, but if we leave them alone then they *will* be
able to get away with it, and humanity gets hunted for sport." He took
a long breath, and straightened up, already regaining his customary
bearing. "You don't understand how *close* we were, Robyn. No one has
ever fought one of them like that before. No wonder it cut loose with
everything it had; you may have easily driven it out of this dimension
entirely."
"R...really? We won?"
"No." His expression made her face fall. "Almost, but not
quite. But don't you get it? We almost stopped them on the first try
-- we're finally on the track of a weapon that can win this war." Now
he smiled. "And, frankly, you are responsible."
"Me?" She waved a hand. "Not really -- I just picked some
stupid game. You made the machine and--"
"The machine operates using your thoughts as a template. You
humans have always had a gift for inspired nastiness."
Robyn was silent. Ayre waited patiently.
"Okay." [I forgot this isn't some storybook adventure for
everyone.] "I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize. You don't have all the
information. As far as you know, this sort of thing is unusual, when in
fact it happens all the time."
"It does?"
"The enemy can adjust minds. Typically they cover their tracks.
This one, obviously, did not have that chance."
[Wow.] She shook her head. "Still. I shouldn't have shouted
at you like that."
"You are new to this, I understand. Apology accepted."
"I hope I didn't call you away from anything--"
"Not particularly. I was waiting for you to awaken, in fact."
"Oh." Robyn remembered something from his earlier explanations.
"Is it safe for you to be here? Won't they notice you?"
"After what happened last night, I believe I can escape their
notice for some time."
"Good." She stood from the bed. "I had some ideas for next
time that I wanted to run by you. But I need to shower and get dressed
first, and then we need to find somewhere private to talk."
"Excellent. I'm anxious to hear your plans."
Robyn smiled broadly. "Wait outside for a bit then. And don't
let Mom see you -- that would take a bit of explaining."
After the confrontation, sluicing down with hot water felt
almost euphoric. Robyn kept breaking into half-giggles and goofy grins.
[I'm glad Ayre isn't here to see me. Or, worse, Mary.] She let the
shower rinse her hair and closed her eyes.
[Okay. Time to be honest with myself. Why am I so happy?] The
answer was uncomfortable but obvious. [I'm happy because he told me I
did a good job. Not only did the weird gods pick me to help them, I
*did*. Don't I have a right to be a little proud of that?] Something
felt a little off about that, somehow. [I'm just nervous.] She smiled
even wider. [I have a right to be nervous, too.]
Robyn shifted indecisively. [I guess...also...] There was no
doubt about it -- Ayre was handsome. And passionate, and kind. And
smart and powerful beyond the dreams of human beings. [Not like
Tsuiren, though.] But Tsuiren was cold, perfect beauty -- enough to
make her knees wobble, at the time, but in retrospect nothing so
spectacular. [I wonder if part of it is his presence. He is a god,
after all.] Whereas Ayre, for all his power, seemed more like a person.
She tried to picture the little pause, his face an inch away
from hers; she'd felt his breath on her cheek, and the almost physical
impact of the intensity in his eyes. [It's almost frightening. I
wonder what he would have done if I'd kissed him, right then?] The
thought made her giggle and shake her head. [Christ, Robyn. Don't get
*too* full of yourself. He's a god, and you're just a high school
senior -- count yourself lucky you even get to talk to him.]
Stepping out of the warm water was always an effort. Robyn
swathed herself in a warm, fluffy towel, opened the door to her room,
and started to hunt for something to wear.
Ayre stood on the landing, listening to voices on the air.
"I must congratulate you on your performance," said Tsuiren.
"I thought it was effective." Ayre brushed a speck of dust from
his robes, thought for a moment, and glared at them until they turned
into slacks and a light jacket.
"Absolutely. I almost believed you cared about something."
"Thank you." He shrugged modestly. "I try my best."
"I admit I underestimated you, Ayre. This project is working
out quite well."
"We almost had her this time. I suspect we will not fail
again."
"When will your pet be ready?"
"Who knows, with humans? I will contact you."
"Of course."
Ayre bowed, ever so slightly. "Until then, my lord."
The buzzing of the lights slowly made Mary aware of the fact
that she was awake. That, and the tiny demon sitting on her forehead;
when she sat up, he tumbled off and somersaulted hastily in the air.
"Boss!" Aku spread his arms. "'Bout time you woke up. Feeling
any better?"
Mary blinked and rubbed her eyes, then blinked again when she
noticed that her left arm, instead of a font of unimaginable pain, was
merely mildly aching. She pulled open the neat bullet hole in her shirt
with two fingers and rubbed the round, pink scar. It tingled oddly.
"Ow."
"Maer?" Aku tilted his head to one side. "Does it still hurt?"
"Just a little."
Aku smiled broadly. "Great! I knew you'd be fine."
"Aww. Were you worried about me?"
"Nah. We both know it'd take more than some guy with a rifle to
kill you."
"Let's hope." Mary grabbed onto the demon's buoyant mood like a
drowning man grabs a life preserver, trying to shake off the dregs of
her nightmare. "Is everyone else okay?"
"Sumi's a little bruised, but she's still sleeping it off. That
demon friend of yours seemed a little rattled, though. She's around
here somewhere. And frankly I think Lia's getting suspicious."
"Lia." Mary rolled her eyes. "She saw me like this?"
"They were too exhausted to hide you."
"Great." It was hard to feel too bad about it, though.
Familiar post-battle euphoria was starting to kick in -- the odd feeling
you got when you realized that, no matter what else had happened, you
were still alive. "What time is it?"
"Around one in the afternoon."
She shook her head, and as she did so realized something else.
The vague pain that signified Kei's presence was fading as the Barrier
energy bled off of her, but there was something else, from the feel of
it something much fresher. [Another demon. It must have come it
sometime last night, after I passed out.] She swung her legs off the
couch, prompting Aku to hold up his hands.
"Whoa, whoa! Where do you think you're going?"
"There's still one of them out there."
"Another demon?"
"Yeah." She pushed the blanket that had covered her onto the
floor. "We have to get him before the Barrier energy fades."
"You have to *wait*, Maer. Give it a rest -- you've got a few
days. Sumiko's magic healing stuff is good but not that good; you're
still weak."
"But--"
"Also, the town is crawling with cops."
"Cops?"
"Yeah. I don't know if you noticed, but your trigger-happy
friend waxed a half-dozen of them before you got him, not to mention
destroying half the town square. The police are understandably
curious."
"I can't just let a demon wander around."
"You don't have to, boss. Just wait a little while. We need to
keep a low profile."
"Didn't you want me to become dictator of the world?"
"You gotta time it right. After destroying half the town is
*not* a good time."
The phone rang, sparing Aku the answer to that comment. Mary
crawled to the edge of the couch and picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Mary?" Robyn sounded a little on the hyper side, which was
unusual. Mary dredged her memory for her last conversation with Robyn,
and winced. [Right.]
"Hey." She paused. "You still mad at me?"
"Mad at you?" Robyn sounded as though she'd actually forgotten
about it. [At least she hasn't been sulking the whole time.] "Oh. I'm
sorry about that. I didn't mean -- I was just being stupid. Forget
it."
"Already done. So what's up?"
"Just making sure you're still alive." Mary barely stifled a
gasp, and Robyn continued. "I didn't think you'd be downtown at that
hour, but you know..."
"Yeah." She breathed out. "Well, I'm in one piece for the
moment, so you can stop worrying."
"Cool. I'll be out all day, I think, but we should get together
tomorrow or something."
"What are you up to?"
"Going out in the general vicinity of a guy."
Mary raised an eyebrow, though Robyn couldn't see her.
"Really."
"I'll tell you about it later. You'll probably get to meet him
eventually."
"I'll expect a full report."
She put the phone back on the charger with a sigh and flopped
back onto the couch. Aku hovered back to his accustomed place over one
shoulder.
"See," he said, grinning, "and all of a sudden you're
melancholy."
"I *did* almost die."
"Almost. Pfeh. You're jealous."
"Of Robyn?"
"Maybe." The demon looked sly. "Maybe of her new boyfriend."
"Relax. Robyn's always had a crush on me, and it's about time
she got over it."
"Sure."
"Get lost, Aku."
"You're the boss. No running around saving the world for at
least twenty-four hours."
Sumiko hadn't gotten much sleep, and what little she had managed
had been troubling.
"Eternity." The Queen's black-and-white eyes burned with inner
fire.
"M...My Queen."
"You have done very well indeed. Only a few trials remain to
us."
"I...thank you, my Queen."
"And yet I sense that you are troubled."
"I..." Sumiko's throat choked closed, even in a dream. "We
failed, my Queen. People died."
"The monster was destroyed."
"But not soon enough. We are supposed to *protect* them -- why
else do we have these powers? But..."
"Eternity." The Queen's voice commanded attention. "I know
this is hard on you. But you must remember that, unmolested, the demons
would destroy the entire world. If some few people die in the battle,
we must nonetheless consider that a success."
[A success.] Sumiko swallowed. "Yes. My Queen."
She'd awoken with a headache and a bad taste in her mouth, and
she was trying to solve at least one of these problems with breakfast
when Mary stumbled into the kitchen. Sumiko gave her a half-hearted
wave.
"Hey."
"Hey." Mary pulled a chair out from the table and flopped into
it. "Thanks for saving my life, by the way."
"Any time. You want any pancakes?"
"Please." She sighed and laid her head on the table. "I slept
for twelve hours. Why am I still tired?"
"Healing that fast takes a lot out of you."
Sumiko spooned a few dollops of batter onto the frying pan. The
sizzling outlined the silence.
"Sumi?"
"Hmm?" She sniffed hurriedly.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I wasn't really hurt -- just some bruises, and--"
"No. I mean: are you okay?"
There was a long pause before Sumiko spoke, without turning
around. "We didn't stop it in time, Mary."
"I know."
Sumiko felt a knot inside her chest threaten to dissolve in a
flood of tears, and ruthlessly clamped down on it. "That's all. I
just..."
"You can't feel bad about that."
"Why?"
"That thing just appeared and started shooting! If we hadn't
been there, it would have done more damage."
"I guess." Sumiko turned and sat down at the table, cradling
her head in her arms. "What if we weren't here at all, though?"
Mary was silent.
"They're getting worse, you know. This isn't little goblins and
tentacled things anymore."
"I know." That had been bothering Mary, too. "That thing we
fought yesterday was different."
"What about next time? How long have we got?"
Mary grimaced. "Actually..."
"What?" Sumiko's face froze. "Not already."
"I can feel it."
The Japanese girl closed her eyes. "Me too." She let out a
deep breath. "Fuck. What do we do?"
"Wait. We can't do anything with the cops so stirred up, but he
probably won't either. We wait for nightfall, and then go after him."
"Gods." Sumiko propped her chin on her hand. "Where does it
end?"
"It'll end. Sooner or later, the boss will show up. Some guy
named Tsuiren. All we need to do is kill him."
"But how many people get killed before then?"
"As few as possible." Mary shook her head. "You're the one who
was supposed to be gung-ho about this."
"It's just..." She sighed. Mary cleared her throat, softly.
"What?"
"Your pancakes are on fire."
Robyn stepped off the bus and looked around downtown, feeling
incredibly daring. Part of this had to do with her outfit -- she'd
eschewed her normal whatever-was-on-top-of-the-basket system in favor of
a pair of tight jeans and a low-cut off-red T-shirt. She wasn't sure
whether Ayre had noticed, though he hadn't objected when she suggested
they walk around the town. He'd traded the brown robe he normally
favored for nondescript slacks and shirt, which made him look like a
model from the better class of toothpaste commercial.
She had a hard time not playing tour guide, pointing out such
interesting sites as the library, the car dealership, and several
pizzerias. Ayre smiled, and said very little.
"I'm sorry. This must all be boring for you."
"Not really -- I don't get the chance to walk around Earth much,
for obvious reasons."
"Right." She spotted her favorite caf�, and pointed. "You want
to grab a late lunch?"
"Sure."
They passed a busy few minutes ordering before he leaned
forward. "So. You were going to tell me something."
"Right!" Robyn had been avoiding the subject for a reason --
her nervousness had been growing as they walked. [What the hell do I
know, to talk about stuff like this with someone like him?] She stuffed
the feeling down, viciously, and got right to the point. "I think I
figured out what went wrong, last time."
"Went wrong?"
"When I was in your machine, I could feel"--she
hesitated--"limitations. Imposed by the source material. I think it
reads my mind--"
"It does."
"--and sort of borrows my subconscious ideas about how the
daemon should function."
"That sounds reasonable enough."
"Reasonable? You built it."
"True, but I'd never tested it on a human. It's not always
clear how things will interact."
Robyn briefly considered being scared about that, but decided
against it. "Anyway. So when I created that thing, the source material
put limitations on how powerful it could be."
"Why?"
"Well, it wasn't anything special. Just a random opponent from
that game, roughly as powerful as the player."
Ayre nodded, interestedly, and Robyn felt a little thrill. "Go
on."
"So I figure, next time, we use something that outclasses its
opposition."
"Such as?"
"I've got some ideas, but I think I'd have to show them to you."
"I expect so." He sat back. "You've put a lot of thought into
this."
"I..." She blushed suddenly, incongruously. "I guess so. It
just sort of hit me while I was asleep..."
He shook his head. "Frankly, sometimes its hard for me to
remember how different this must be for you. For me, this is a new
project, but--"
"Yeah. You've kind of changed my life."
"I'm sorry." He said it with a half-smile, but she could feel
the pain behind the words. His mismatched eyes glittered. Robyn waved
her hands defensively.
"Don't be! I'm happier this way."
"Really?" Ayre moved his arms to make way for his hamburger.
"Why?"
The question caught her off-guard. Robyn started her own
sandwich, to give herself a little time to think; it was hard to
concentrate while he watched her so intently. [Even if I didn't know, I
could guess from his stare that he wasn't human. There's something odd
there. Not bad, but...odd.]
"I guess...it's hard to explain."
"Try. I'm curious."
"It's like everything I've been taught, all these years, just
isn't true."
"This doesn't upset you?"
"Maybe a little. But when you're a kid, right, they tell you
stories about dragons and wizards and so on. Later on, you find out its
not real, and that can be kind of depressing. But now..." Her eyes
were vibrant. "I guess you can't really know what its like."
"Probably not."
"How old are you, anyway?"
"You want to know exactly?" When she nodded, he raised an
eyebrow. "Two thousand three hundred twelve years, three hundred days,
eleven hours, ten minutes, fourteen seconds."
"Wow. And how much of that do you actually remember?"
"All of it."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She shook her head. "I can't even imagine what that's like."
"No one can." Ayre laughed. "Are you done?"
Robyn realized, on glancing down, that her plate was empty.
"Yeah." She gestured to the waiter. "Check?"
"My treat." Ayre snapped his fingers under the man's nose.
"You've been paid, and very well tipped."
The waiter blinked. "Why, thank you, sir. Have a very nice
day."
"Likewise."
Robyn waited until the waiter was gone. "That's a handy trick."
"On occasion."
"Kind of nasty, though. He didn't really get any money."
"He'll convince himself he did. Humans are wonderful that way."
Ayre smiled, gently. "Well. Now where are we going?"
Robyn smiled even wider.
[When did I go insane?]
Kei closed her eyes, thought back, and tried to remember. [It
has to be sometime in the last few weeks. Since I got back from
fighting Mary the first, when Tsuiren walked us into a trap.] But, she
felt, there had to be signs before that. Something.
[I remember when Tsuiren first realized our daemons were being
destroyed systematically. I remember, before that, when Ayre came into
my domain and told me he thought there was a problem. I remember...]
Nothing. She closed her eyes and concentrated. [Ayre came into
my domain. Told me there was a problem. Before that...]
[Ayre came into my domain. Told me... *Before* that!]
[Ayre...]
She gritted her teeth. The memory wouldn't come.
[What's the point. Whenever I went mad, I certainly am now. My
friends back home would barely recognize me.]
[I had it. I had the chance in my hands, to end the war and get
home scott-free.]
[So what the *hell* is wrong with me?]
She tried to recreate her thought processes and ran up against
some disturbing blanks. [I considered it, and then I looked at her, and
then...nothing. ]
A human, she knew, would not have done it. Humans were
handicapped that way.
[Maybe it's contagious.]
Kei leaned back. She was sitting on Mary's roof, basking in the
afternoon sunshine and looking at the bustle of the town. The tiles
were gritty and almost painful against her skin, but she welcomed the
sensation -- it reminded her of where she was.
[I hate it. I hate this place. I hate *them*, these people.
All I want is to go back to where things are simple -- back to my baths,
and Cynthia.] She sighed. [Back to Tsuiren and Ayre and the rest.]
[But...]
There was something about the churning activity of humanity that
was deeply disturbing, like opening the lid on some old jar and finding
the inside swarming with maggots. [They're too *complicated*. What's
the point? All those people, living separate, real lives. In contrast
to...what?]
[We've never invented anything. We've never created anything.
All we do is steal from them, learn from them, copy them. And then we
laugh at them, but our world is less then a flea-bite on an elephant.
This is reality. What exactly does that make me?]
[So what the hell am I doing here?]
Kei closed her eyes and thought about being a maggot.
Lia closed the door, walked into the living room, and started to
find Mary on the couch flipping through channels.
"Hey." Mary raised a laconic hand. "Did you get some stuff for
dinner?"
Lia set the heavy paper bags carefully on the floor. "You know,
that's really not fair."
"What?"
"Shrugging things off like that."
Mary worked her left shoulder. "I told you it was just a
scratch."
"I was really worried about you!"
"Didn't I tell you never to worry about me?" Mary gave a broad
smile, which was somehow even more infuriating. Lia snatched up the
grocery bags and stomped into the kitchen. She unpacked as though each
jar of tomato sauce carried a personal grudge, slamming things down on
the counter nearly hard enough to shatter glass.
After a moment Mary drifted in, watching silently. She leaned
against the counter while Lia slammed the bread drawer and nearly
wrenched the door off the fridge. Finally, Mary cleared her throat.
Lia rounded on her, a ripe tomato in one hand.
"Look. I'm happy you're okay, but I'm really sick of this shit.
Do you have any idea how scared everyone was last night? Sumiko could
barely walk, and you were bleeding--"
"Lia--"
"And then I'm all alone in the house, and suddenly some lunatic
is shooting up the town square on every channel, and all I can think is,
'What if Mary's out there?', and you come in [bleeding] and all beat up
and I--"
"Lia, would you--"
Lia took a deep breath and cut Mary off, slamming her fist on
the counter for emphasis. "And then. And *then*. The next morning,
you're sitting on the damn *couch* like nothing ever happened, laughing
it off. You know how that makes me feel?" She gritted her teeth, like
someone making headway into a sandstorm. "It makes me feel like you
don't give a shit. And I mean, why should you? Sumiko ran back to her
house to get some kind of incredible medicine or something, and all I
could do was sit here and hope you didn't die before she got back. So
why should you care if I'm worried about you?"
"Lia."
Lia ran out of breath. "What?"
Mary pointed wordlessly; her little sister's hand was covered in
bit of red skin and slimy yellow seeds, and the tomato had exploded all
over the counter from the force of the impact. Lia stared at it dully
for a moment, her eyes already blurry with tears. Then, simultaneously,
she and Mary started to laugh.
Lia turned to the sink, wiping tears from her eyes with her free
hand, and washed away the bits. She almost shivered as Mary came up and
wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The pair stood stock-still for a
moment.
"I'm sorry." Mary's voice was a whisper.
"It's just...it's just..." Lia spoke without turning, as though
to the world in general. The feel of her sister's arms around her was
warm and familiar. "While I was watching TV, I tried to think of what
things would be like if you were gone. And I just...I just couldn't.
Nobody cares except you -- Dad's never here, Mom's d...dead. And I was
so scared." She closed her eyes, and dropped into a whisper. "I'm
sorry I shouted at you. I'm really glad you're okay."
Lia could feel Mary's smile. "It's okay."
There was another moment of silence.
"Mary?"
"Hmm?"
"What you said about...not having to worry. Is it really true?"
"Yup."
"You'll always be okay?"
"Yup."
"Really?"
Mary squeezed her sister's shoulders. "Yup."
Robyn wobbled a bit on the front steps, but managed to get the
key in the lock on third try. Ayre waited patiently until she got the
door open, hands in the pockets of the leather greatcoat he'd
materialized for himself when the night got a bit chilly.
The living room was cavernous, dark, and silent. Robyn checked
her watch, blearily; 1:37 glowed in ghostly green script. She collapsed
heavily onto the couch, arms spread, and let out a contented sigh.
"Robyn..." Ayre began -- she shook her head hurriedly.
"Quiet. My parents are sleeping."
"Ah." He switched to a low almost-whisper. "I was going to ask
if you wanted me to retire for the evening."
[It's not fair.] Her thoughts were not exactly coherent; she
couldn't help interrupting them by staring at his face and admiring how
the half-light from the streetlamps outside turned into a study in blue
and white and black. [He drank at least...at least as much as I did.
But...]
Drinking had been her idea, actually -- once they'd stopped for
dinner, it seemed the natural thing to do. Whatever Ayre ordered
disappeared behind his smiling face with no apparent effect, and Robyn
had been so curious she'd had bit more than usual herself. [Like back
at Sumi's.] Her face colored. [I can't believe some of the stuff I
told her...]
"Robyn?"
She shook her head, and regretted it. "Wait. Sit down for a
minute."
"As you wish."
Ayre obediently took a seat beside her, close enough that she
could feel the power radiating off of him like static electricity. It
gave her goose bumps immediately, and Robyn shivered.
"Let me ask you a question." She worked carefully to enunciate
the words.
"Of course."
"What...what are you hanging around with me for?"
He stared at her with cobalt eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not stupid, right. You're a *god*." She hiccupped. "What
the hell are you spending your time wandering around downtown with some
Earth girl for? It doesn't make sense...not really, anyway..."
"Ah." He paused.
"I mean...I guess you could be trying to keep me happy. Because
I'm helping you, right? If you needed my help, you might be trying to
keep me happy, but I don't think you need me that much. And if it was
that, you don't need to, to, to worry, 'cause I'd help you anyway.
So--"
"Robyn." Ayre smiled. "Relax."
"I think I'm plenty relaxed." She tried for a sarcastic grin
and made it on the second attempt. "But that's not it, you're saying?"
"No."
"So why, then?"
"You don't believe I could enjoy your company?"
"You could snap your fingers and make a dozen of me."
"Not exactly. Physically, of course I could, but creating
really intelligent creatures is nigh-on impossible."
"Ah. So it's my shin...sin...scintillating conversation you
like, then."
He shrugged. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you. But for all our
power, we're not that different from you humans."
Robyn digested that in silence for a moment. Ayre's gaze never
flickered.
[He doesn't breathe. He doesn't blink. But...]
"I think," she said, "that I'm going to try something
*incredibly* stupid."
Robyn leaned forward. It was like kissing a battery, a faint
tingle of static across her tongue. A little shiver ran through her
when he touched her shoulders, half electricity and half the thrill of
mere contact. His pale blue hair gently tickled her face as it drifted
forward.
When she finally broke off, he fixed her with a piercing gaze.
"Robyn--"
"Relax." She took one of his hands in hers and pulled it to her
breast, then leaned forward again, eyes closed.
Ayre and Tsuiren stood in the marble-floored hall at the center
of the former's domain, watching the sparks crawl up and down the
crystal column. Robyn sat in front of it, eyes tightly shut, connected
to the thing by shimmering arcs of blue-white energy. Mist billowed in
front of it, within which a vague form was taking shape.
"And she didn't come hunting you?"
"No. Perhaps she was injured in the fight." Ayre peered
curiously into the fog. "In any case, things have worked out as
planned. And I got to spend an evening in the Timestream, which is
always useful."
"You didn't drain anything from *her*, of course." Tsuiren
nodded at Robyn.
"Of course not. We need her in prime condition. It really is
remarkable."
The Dark Lord's smile twisted sourly. "Save your praise for
after she succeeds. We haven't won yet."
"We will, my Lord."
"Have you decided what to do with her afterwards?"
Ayre smiled. "I'm considering keeping her around. She's proven
amusing."
"Indeed." Tsuiren glanced at him sideways. "You're a *very*
good actor, Ayre."
"I do my best." He felt the end of the creation process before
he saw it -- the bolts of lightning snapped off, and the mist started to
clear. Robyn opened her eyes.
"Finished." She let out a long breath. "I think...I got it
right. Someone out of the ordinary. I..."
Ayre hurried to her side. "You've used a lot of energy -- just
go to sleep." He glanced up through the thinning mists. "We can handle
things from here."
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