Blood Day (16 page)

She felt she could breathe again. She would do this, whatever it was. She
could
do it. She'd already killed twice that she could remember. One more was nothing to her. She didn't even know this Joshua Flynn. He was just another Rev.
 

Mathilde answered by bringing out her keys and unlocking the padlock on door 16. Sia stepped in behind her as she opened the door and gagged at the smell.

The red light was back, but the room was just like the room with the tree, coated in a thick, raw metal, the roof far above them. The smell was like rotting meat and feces and a darker, more primal smell. Like animals in the zoo, the smell of rutting and pissing and rolling in the mud.
 

The Rev was chained to the bed, just as Sia had been only the week before. Though he was stripped naked, his long, pale thighs streaked with blood and shit. Even under the red lights, Sia knew that's what he was covered in. She knew he was insane, too, without him saying a word. And she knew Mathilde wanted her to kill him.

This felt like herself again, though the thought was odd. How could such a thing be her? Killing a Rev just to learn how to do it? To know what was in that wounded animal's mind? To know that it followed her because her veins pulsed with blood, that those dark eyes wanted to rip her apart and suck out her marrow?

“Do you want to know his name?” said Mathilde.

“Why would I?” said Sia. She stared at the thing on the bed. Its long teeth rested against his chin, discolored brown in spots. Sia realized one of his eyes wasn't real. It was metal of some sort. She couldn't tell in the red light, but she thought it was made of gold. The Rev flared his nostrils and wheezed at her.

“You'll know Flynn's name,” said Mathilde. “I wonder if it will make you feel something for him. If it will force sympathy on you.”

“He's a monster,” said Sia. “That's what you said, right?”

“Yes,” said Mathilde. “But he has a way about him. He will trick you.”

Sia looked at the woman robed in black lace head to toe.

“Is that what happened to you?” she said.

Mathilde stiffened under all her gauzy clothing. “I do not speak of what Joshua Flynn did to me,” she said.
 

“Why?”

“It makes one weak to talk about one's pain,” said Mathilde. “Remember that.”

“Sometimes you have to be weak to become strong,” said Sia.

Mathilde walked around Sia to stand in front of her. She looked her up and down.

“Something's different about you,” said Mathilde. “Something recent. What is it? This place?”

“I'm feeling more like myself,” said Sia. “Maybe you should try it. Air yourself out, Mathilde. Leave all the lace at home and walk with your face to the world.”

Mathilde shifted under her layers of clothing. “The world is not kind to one such as myself.”

“Kindness is overrated.”

Mathilde put her gloved hand up and grasped Sia's chin. She turned her face to look right into her eyes. Sia shrugged her off and stepped back.

“You were gentle when you came here,” said Mathilde.

“I was afraid,” said Sia.

“You're not any longer? You should be.”

“Maybe I should,” said Sia. “And maybe I am. But there's no point in trying to control it. The world is what it is, and you people are who you are. I'll do what I need to do to get the hell out of here. I'll do what you ask of me, but stop trying to convince me you're good, Mathilde. You're not. The Revs have done everything in their power to ruin my world. I'll do what you ask, but I'm not going to love you. And I'm not going to believe your lies.”

“Lies?” said Mathilde.

“Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie,” said Sia. “I can see it as clearly as I can see that you are not human. I don't know what you are. You reek of death. So no, Mathilde, I will not love you. I won't ever trust you. But I will do what you ask me to do.”

Mathilde staggered a little, as though she had just been slapped. Sia ignored her and looked at the Rev on the bed.

“Tell me his name.”

“You...you cannot speak to me like…”

“Tell me his name,” said Sia, “so we can get this over with.”

“Magnus,” she said, slightly breathless. “Roger Magnus.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“Everything,” said Mathilde. She was looking at Sia, but she ignored her. “He drank tainted blood.”

“Surely that's an occupational hazard,” said Sia.

Mathilde sniffed, and sat down in a nearby chair.
 

“It's different now,” she said quietly. “We are too long without using our preternatural instincts. We purify the blood and inject it. It is very hygienic. Very antiseptic. We have lost the ability to thrive on...well...”

“Humans,” said Sia.
 

“Humans,” agreed Mathilde.

“Why do you think Joshua Flynn would be interested in a human like me?” said Sia.

“Oh,” said Mathilde. “He very much likes human girls. Women, rather. And you are his favorite type.”

“Because I’m Asian?” said Sia, prickling.

“No,” said Mathilde. “Because you are brilliant.”

“The music,” said Sia. It was the piano. A beautiful, shining baby grand that sang like an angel when she played it. A memory whispered at the edges of her mind, just out of reach.

“The music,” said Mathilde.

“If I do this today,” said Sia. “I want to play tonight.”

“Play what?” said Mathilde.

“Anything,” said Sia. “I will follow your plan, and kill for you, but I want to play. Piano, violin, I don't care.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible,” said Mathilde.

“Do you want me to do something? Or do you want me to shut myself away? You can still stick a needle in my arm. Bleed me dry. But it won't get you what you want.”

Mathilde didn't speak for a long time. The only sound in the room was the wheezing of the Rev on the bed. There was nothing in his good eye, Sia saw. No personality, no hunger, no nothing. Whatever he had been was gone.

“Fine,” she said. “I will get you a violin. But you will be supervised. And you will not be permitted to keep it in your room. You may play as a reward. One hour will be sufficient, I think.”

“Agreed,” said Sia.

“Are you ready?” said Mathilde. She rose from her chair, seeming to have recovered herself.

“Yes.”

She reached under her lace veil and brought out something pale and thin. She placed it in Sia's hand.
 

“It's about the heart,” she said. “Always about the heart.”

Sia looked down at the object in her hand. It was a solid piece of wood, heavy and warm and carved to a point.

Mathilde stood beside her.

“The blood of the Revenant is different. It is a miracle. It disobeys all laws of physics and biology. It is a living, breathing thing. Even the impotent ones.”

“A wooden stake?” said Sia. “I thought that was just a children's story.”

“Oh, it isn't just any wood,” said Mathilde. “It is wood from the most ancient of trees. Or from a tree that appeared in minutes where once a Revenant stood. Trees that we once thought were extinct. Joshua Flynn found one, and he is now making more.”

“Like the tree in the street,” said Sia.

“The very same. We remove them quickly so no humans will realize what they are. The blood activates something ancient in the wood, if it was not treated or burned. The wood grows. It animates. It thrives. But the Revenant is not so lucky.”

Mathilde reached up and touched her own shoulder, seeming to be grasping it, but whether out of pain or comfort, Sia didn't know.
 

“So if I shove this into him,” Sia said, motioning to the thing on the bed, “he'll turn into a tree.”

“Essentially, yes,” said Mathilde.

“That’s insane.”

“You must aim for the heart, though,” said Mathilde. “Otherwise the Revenant will remain alive.”

“Isn't that just as good?” said Sia. “A prison for however long he can survive, right?”

“Unless he gets out,” said Mathilde, and there was a strange note to her voice, loud and brash and truthful. “And you do not want Joshua Flynn to get out, Sia. You want him dead.”

“Do I?”

“He is vengeful. And he would not kill you. He would torture you for years if you do this thing to him. Better to end him.”

“So this is practice?” said Sia.

“Precisely,” said Mathilde. “Find his heart and plunge the stake through.”

“What if I plunge it into you?”

Mathilde laughed coldly. “You think there is only one of me?” she said. “Another just like me will take my place. And that one may not be so kind to you. Whoever it is will not care for you as I do.”

“That wasn't a lie,” said Sia.

“Of course I care for you, Sia. I hope to remain friends after this is all over.”

“You think I'm your daughter or something?” said Sia.

Mathilde didn't speak for a moment.

“Not a daughter,” Mathilde said breathily. “Something else.”

Sia walked over the Rev on the bed. The pillow was wet with saliva, the smell of feces rank. Sia wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Find his heart,” said Mathilde.

Sia looked at the sunken chest, the skin pale like the underbelly of a fish. She touched his sternum, almost pulling her hand away at the clammy, waxy feel of the flesh, but forcing herself to continue. The closer she got to the heart, walking her fingers across, the warmer the Rev's skin was. For a moment, she saw a faint glow under his chest. He grunted stupidly and she felt his chest vibrate under her hand. Finally she was right on top of it, the beat so strong that it seemed to push her fingers up and down with the strength of it.

“You know what to do,” said Mathilde. “Don't miss. Don't ever miss. You will need all your strength to push through the cartilage, and you will need to be quick.”

Sia grasped the stake in her right hand, keeping her left on top of the heart. The Rev looked at her blankly, one dark eye and one gold. He almost looked trusting. Sia raised the stake over her head. Keeping her eyes on the spot, she wrapped her left hand over her right. She could see the pulse of the heart under his pale skin, as though the Rev had nothing but bone and gristle left on his body. Again, she saw a flicker of light under her hand.

Sia cried out as she plunged the stake down, into the helpless thing's chest. It sank into him too easily, and she had to pull her hands away quickly, lest she sink into him too. He didn't make a sound. Just a light wheezing rattling around in his lungs. It sounded like relief.
 

“Back away, Sia,” Mathilde said, pulling at her with gloved hands. “Back away now!”

Sia stepped back as another sound came from the Rev's body. Black blood was pouring out of the wound in his chest. His eye had gone unfocused. He was gone. But something was happening. A sound like something stretching was coming from his body. A leaf suddenly emerged from the end of the stake, and the body began to move, swaying this way and that, head lolling, raising a foot off the bed, arms straining at the locks on his wrists.

“What's happening?” Sia asked, though she knew. She remembered.

“Only nature,” said Mathilde. “Nothing more.”

They stepped away until their backs were against the door. Sia watched in fascination as green vines snaked around the body. They seemed to clasp the Rev in an embrace, more and more wrapping around him, until Sia couldn't see the Rev anymore, just the glimmer of gold from his false eye. The green vines matured in mere seconds, turning brown and thick. They continued to stretch, bursting with leaves and tiny green branches along the way, growing around the body that had once been a Rev. Sia couldn't help but be enthralled by the process. The brown, wrapping branches soon formed a trunk, and the leaves soon grazed the iron ceiling high above them. She and Mathilde had to step out of the way as the roots climbed the walls. All the while, the tree was stretching, growing, taking form, and Sia could hear it and feel it and taste it in the air and she laughed.

It was beautiful. Soft black petals rained down on them, and Mathilde watched wordlessly as Sia danced in them.
 

Fourteen

“I don’t trust him,” Dez Paine said, pacing the length of Mike’s threadbare carpet. Mike sighed and turned away from his typewriter. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Dez?” Mike said. “So he seems a little off. Who doesn’t?”

“It’s those eyes. You ever notice? He’s got these little, squinty eyes and he's always watching. Always asking questions too, with this weird smile on his face. Something’s got to be done, Mike. I’m telling you, he’s one of them. I should know, I was too, remember? I can smell another Mover from a mile away.”

“What are you suggesting?” said Mike. He could feel the exhaustion in his shoulders. He’s been writing stories for the past seven hours and his brain felt like mush, his muscles cramped and sore. “You want to hit him over the head and drop him off in a gutter somewhere? Just because he’s a little shifty? What about all the druggies and alcoholics? They’re up all night long partying and then out all day grabbing intel.”

“They’re just kids,” said Dez. “But that’s the thing, Mikey. This guy doesn’t even fit in with this crowd. None of these kids even know him.”

“Wait,” said Mike. “Then how did he get here?” He blinked at Dez and put his glasses back on. He frowned as Dez stopped pacing. Dez fixed him with a smug look.

“I told you, Mikey. Kid is freaky.”

Mike leaned back in his chair and thought about it. They’d been putting out papers for weeks. Every couple of days supplies would show up on their doorstep. No one ever saw anyone deliver them, but they always had plenty of printing supplies, as well as food and coffee. The amount of paper delivered told them how many papers to print. Every delivery brought more and more paper, delivered in stacks, fresh and stiff and naked. The delivery that morning, Mike guessed, had brought thousands of sheets, stacked neatly in boxes and tied together with twine. They’d started with around a hundred.

What they were doing was a death sentence, Mike knew. If they were printing more papers because people were reading them, then something was different in the world. Something was different and it was all because of Joshua Flynn. Mike hadn’t seen him since he’d appeared in the basement and told them what they were meant to do. If this guy — Mike strained to remember his name: Craig? Kyle? — really was working for the Revs, then Mike couldn’t see any alternative… But he didn’t want to think that way.