Manifest (The Darkening Trilogy) (23 page)

“You don’t get it do you?” I sneered at Ezra.  “She did it because of you!  You never believed in the cycle.  So she had to show you!”

“Delano!”

I pulled my gun and fired, the first shot hit, but the next five went into the ceiling.  I pushed
Cass and Marley off me and stormed through the kitchen to the door.  At the bottom of the stairs, I could sense Ezra clutching his chest.  The bullet, spurred by my malice, had drawn blood, but to my despair, no more than a drop.

†
Mique
l
†

“
I
was sitting at the table when suddenly Pumpkin began to feel lighter on my lap.” I explained to Ezra, my wretched heart wishing to cry out but my will holding back tears for the child’s sake.  “Then he was gone entirely…  That’s when I knew.  I’m glad you’re okay.
”

Ezra nodded.  It was an utterly empty motion that only pronounced the hollowness
she felt in her every movement.  Boo meowed at her feet and she knelt down like a dishonored knight begging forgiveness.  The cat leapt into her arms and did her best to offer consolation.  “Looks like I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on,” Ezra said, mostly to herself.  “I’d better get started.”

†
Delan
o
†

M
y skin cracks as I shift in my seat.  Large parts of my body are covered in the brown and black scabs of charred skin from the explosion at Pantheon.  The patches feel foreign and dead as my fingers trace idly over the back of my palm.  Blood leaks from a few rifts in the plastic-feeling blotches, yet, for some reason I keep on flexing my muscles, breaking open more and more of the burns, just to grapple with that searing discomfort. 

I have been
cooked
like this before – when the burns were so deep my muscles were medium rare, and thin, watery blood had seeped to the surface of the bubbled skin.  This time though, the physical pain is comforting.  The only reason I feel any of my wounds at all is because I desperately want to.  I want to feel that intense pain all over me, and I want it to scar.  I want my face never to look the same again and it infuriates me that I will be fully recovered in another few days.

In the van following us sit
s Corbin and Roger.  I take a moment to wonder how Corbin is dealing with this but just catching a glimpse of his face in the side-view mirror makes me realize that he simply isn’t; his mind has shut down.  Someone’s home… but the lights are off. 

Sabetha is on autopilot.  She’s been driving for six hours and hasn’t blinked yet.  Her mind must be racing with questions and worries, but at least she’s staying on the right side of the road.

I turn back to look out at the apple orchards of North Gothica.  Those fields are about as haunted as the cell, but tonight they are silent.  In a short while we’ll be arriving at Ezra’s house, and… well, at the moment, that’s as far ahead as I’ve thought.

E
zra comes out of the library as our cars pull up, that stupid cat in his arms.  We park and the four of us pile out onto the sidewalk of Artemis Lane.

“Thank goodness you’re all safe,” he says.  He and I make brief eye contact and I look down to the pavement.  “I saw what happened on the news,” he continues. “Please, please come in.”

We enter through the front door with a bell tinkling flatly.  It smells different and most of the lights are on. 

“I was so happy when I received your call,” Ezra says to Corbin, leading us into the den.  We slowly ease into our seats and I revel in the pain it causes me.

“Sorry, if we bleed on your sofa,” Roger offers with a chuckle that turns into a pained cough.

At this, Ezra quickly asks.  “Is there anything I can get you?  Bandages?  Lemonade?”  Everyone lets out a tense laugh at his sincerity.  Except me.

Without an answer, he leaves for the kitchen and returns with a tray.  I refuse the tea. 

“You must be exhausted.  I have quarters set up for everyone.”

“We can’t waste any more time,” I say.

“I’ll need to know what happened, then.  I’ve been hesitant to look into the consciousness for myself.”

I scoff, but Corbin takes the opportunity to suck up.  “That was probably a good thing.  You might have made yourself a target.”

“Are there any other survivors?” Ezra asks.

Corbin looks down at the carpet and then shakes his head, no.  I finally realize just how little Ezra knows about what happened.  I guess I just kind of expected him to.  It’s his job.

Ezra sighs deeply and purses his lips for a moment, then continues.  “Tell me what happened.”

I go on to explain, to the best of my understanding, what transpired, but get distracted as Roger puts a comforting hand on Ezra’s shoulder.  Ezra taps it and tacitly reassures Roger he is okay.  I finish retelling the events, but I guess I’m not too good at hiding my utter disdain for our librarian. 

“Have you given any thought to what it could have meant?  About being shadows, I mean,” Ezra says.

“Of course,” I snarl.  “It was a warning.  Everything up until the explosion was all a warning.  And I was too stupid and arrogant to see it.”

“Then you believe the consciousness destroyed the theatre,” Ezra states.

“What else could it be?” Roger asks, with a hint of hope.

“It’s just that…” Ezra begins but trails off melodramatically.

“What?” I demand.

“This isn’t the usual method of the consciousness.”

“For fuck’s sake…”  They’re all still scared.  Scared to admit to themselves that we’re doomed.

Ezra resumes.  “You may be right Delano.  Until we know more, it’s safe to assume the consciousness did target the sentiners.  But what that means is far worse.  The sentiners being closest to the consciousness, knowing the most about the city and about its true face makes us likely targets for the first tremors.  But it’s likely not the end of this.  This episode could prove to be the opening of fault lines deep within our reality.”

“How big?” Corbin asks softly.

“It would have to have been a long process to get to this point.  Who knows how much momentum is behind it or how deep these fissures are.”

Everyone’s afraid to ask what that means so Ezra moves in a new direction.  “I can’t imagine what you are all going through.  But we must decide what to do with this second chance, and quickly.”

“Decide what to do with it?”  Corbin asks.

Roger’s shoulders sink and his head drops as he mutters, “What
can
we do?” 

I sneer at him.

“Have
you
got any great ideas?”  Sabetha snaps at me.

“This is a difficult question,” Ezra interjects.  “And we should all think very carefully about it before we make any decisions.”

I glare at him.  “What the fuck do you know about making decisions?”

Ezra stares at me blan
kly. 

Sabetha stands up from her seat and glares at me.  “It’s not
her
fault, Delano.”

I rise to face her, a large split running down my back and oozing blood
.  “What the fuck do you mean by
that
!” I spit, my eyes watering with a surge of overwhelming remorse.  “Did
you
see all of this coming?  Was it obvious to
you
?”

Sabetha
clenches her jaw.

Ezra stands up slowly and says, “There are more forces at work in the city than us.  We’ve lost perspective on a lot of things, but we can’t forget that. 

“You all have lost more in the past two nights than I will ever be capable of possessing, and for me to attempt to understand that would be a graver insult than dismissing it.  But if you want to move quickly, or get something done, and especially if you want my help, you’re going to have to let go of the ‘what if’s’.  Too much is at stake.”

I storm out of the room.  Roger follows me into the main library where I grab a cart of books and hurl it at a shelf, knocking it over and spilling tomes and papers everywhere.  Roger stands dumbstruck at the far edge of the room.  I have just desecrated what he has always seen as a hallowed temple.

“All these books.  All these fucking books and records!” I yell.  “For what?  What good did it ever do anyone?”

“Would you calm down,” Sabetha yells, forcing her way past Roger as she enters the room.  Corbin and lastly Ezra arrive behind her.  From his arms, the cat lets out a growl like a panther.

“What are we going to
do
about this?” Sabetha demands.

I go to speak but realize I would only repeat Roger’s earlier question:
What can we do?
 

“We
are
going to do something, right?” She presses.

“And piss her off even more?” I ask, motioning to the sky.

“You can’t be serious!  We thought we came here to regroup.  You’re just going to lie down?  Central is on the verge of mass rioting!”

“It’s already begun,”
Ezra says, nodding towards a small TV by the cash register.  “Riots started at sunset.”

“Maybe this is supposed to happen,” I throw back at them.  “Maybe Gothica is supposed to die.”

“Oh, nice, Delano.  Our life is fucked, so why should the world go on, right?”  Sabetha snaps.

“I give up!” I scream at her and everyone goes silent.

The paper in the ransacked books creaks so softly only I can hear it.  The filaments in the light bulbs hum.  My heart beats strongly but I feel like it’s empty, or beating softly inside a hollowed husk which makes it echo.  I feel despair.  I feel human again. 

Corbin and Roger stand there like children watching their parents fight for the first time.
  Suddenly Ezra says, very plainly, “You didn’t kill them, Delano.”

Roger and Corbin flinch as I pull my gun on him.  “One more word, and I swear I’ll find a way.”

The cat growls again from his arms.

Corbin t
ries to calm me down.  “Maybe she’s right, Delano.  Maybe it isn’t our fault.”

Ezra doesn’t even break his gaze before replying to Corbin.  “I didn’t say that.  We all share fault by way of our lifelong complacency
, but no one of us perpetrated this atrocity, nor willfully stood by to let it happen.  Delano least of all.”

I struggle with the gun, squeezing it so hard
it shakes and the polycarbonate grip cracks.  “What about the cults, huh?  What about the hundreds of people I’ve killed in the past decade alone?”  Tears have to be streaming down my face but I can’t even feel them.  I feel too hot in my skin, like I’m still smoldering from the fire.  “What about all the times I interfered?  I started the first blood war for fuck’s sake!  You don’t think that kharma piles up?”

He nods.  “I do.  Enough to save you.”

I scream at the top of my lungs and kick over another book shelf, breaking the frame in half.  Standing there for a moment, I think about the pain on my body, the searing pain that runs along the surface of me.  I want it to hurt so bad it reaches the pain I feel much deeper down, and I want them to connect and intertwine.  In a few seconds, things become less hazy to me.  I take in the smell of the open books and moldy paper.  I think about Lori and the last time I saw her before she died.  She seemed like she knew it was going to happen, like she had accepted it.  Until this very moment, I hated her for that.  But now I understand.  I’m not as noble as she is.  If anything it’s the exact opposite.  This world is going to burn and I am going to die.  I don’t care about anyone or anything anymore.  I am truly free.  There is nothing left holding me back, keeping me rooted to morality or sanity or the people of this city. 

I let out a controlled, calm breath and then nod to myself. 

Yes there is.  I am more than the constraints which guided my life till now.  More than those who pillage at the slightest lack of law.  I know more about choice than that.  I know the power of it better than anyone else.  Like a priest turned atheist overnight, I have come to find that my convictions are rooted in something deeper than god, that they remain even in His absence, even if I don’t understand how yet. 

I stood by once.  No more.

I need a shower and to get out of these blood-soaked clothes.  After shouldering past Ezra and heading up stairs, I get into the bathroom where I hear Roger, downstairs, ask, “So what’s going to happen?”

Sabetha answers in my absence.  “We’re going back into Central.  Get some rest.”

T
he following day proves thoroughly useful in calming tempers.  We feel hidden and isolated, safe from the distant chaos.  I spend the day in Ezra’s basement using his workshop to alter my sword.  It gives me time to finally make that adjustment I’ve been thinking about doing for so long.