The Mirrored City (39 page)

“Well, well, well,” the man said. “The prodigal daughter returns.”

“Quillian.”

He shrugged. “Leland, actually. After I killed my wife and daughters, I took my brother’s place. Or was it the other way around? I can barely remember the life of my shell.”

Lyta picked herself out of the ruins and readied a broken plank. She heard a chittering croak from above. The ragged halves of the chimera circled the room, skittering like spiders across the ceiling.

“Relax.” He threw his hood back. “If I wanted you dead, I would already have had my pets cut you into a thousand pieces and reassemble you like a jigsaw puzzle. You are still one of us, Lyta.”

She spat on the floor. “I never asked to be.”

“Greatness rarely asks, child.” His voice sounded calm and soothing. “Now, why are you ripping up my beautiful hardwood floors?”

“You took her,” Lyta snarled. She charged at him, swinging the plank as hard as she could at the top of his head. He made no effort to avoid the blow. The board shattered, along with his neck.

His head lolled on the severed spine. “Such spirit. Yes, the woman who would be so perfect in my collection. She must mean a great deal for you to leave the safety of the noble House Ibazz.”

Lyta froze.

“Yes.” His head righted itself, bones snapping into place. “We knew. We always know exactly where you are. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I want you to release Shannon,” Lyta insisted. “Or I will rip this place to pieces. You can’t hide what’s in the basement if there’s no building.”

He chuckled. “Very well. I agree to let her go. I suppose the ritual has been contaminated anyway. But if I do this, you must agree to join your true family. We need you, Lyta.”

“Just like that?” Lyta asked. “How can I trust you?”

He laughed. “Because I gave birth to you.”

“You
infected
me,” Lyta challenged, the memories of that red room flashing to the surface.

He shook his head. “You are a mystery, Lyta. You have a Protean body, but you kept your human identity. That’s never happened before. The transition must have been traumatic.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“A show of good faith then?” He snapped his fingers toward the chimeras. “Fetch the twins. Alive.”

The creatures vanished into whirls of dark energy.

They appeared moments later at Quillian’s side, their shrouded heads leaning in to his ears, whispering and clicking. His expression darkened with absolute rage. “How…”

They continued to chatter.

“What are they saying?”

“The vessel was supposed to be one of us!” he cried out. “This cannot be! It’s impossible.”

He grabbed his hair and started pulling as he let out an ear-splitting wail. His eyes rolled back in his head. Lyta staggered back, covering her ears. Glass shattered in the windows, and her skin crawled.

The worms slithered out from the corners of his eyes and mouth. They were breaking through, eating their way through his flesh until the skin was replaced with a writhing mass of purple. Only the eyes and teeth remained to show any trace that he had been human.

The scream stopped.

And then with a fluid, synchronized motion, the worms slid off his body, starting with the head and pooling down toward the feet. The skeleton left behind collapsed as the swarm left nothing else. The mass flowed toward the open hole, pouring into the crawlspace and through the hole toward her friends below.

The chimeras disappeared.

Wasting no time, Lyta bent her knees and jumped as high as she could. She soared toward the ceiling and then dove toward the hole, fists ready to pound. She ripped through the floor like it was paper and came crashing to the stone floor. Landing in a crouch, she had probably shattered her arm and legs, but they still moved.

The mass of worms crawled over the floor in streams, forming strange patterns. They were hungry and flowed like a branching river of purple slime toward Shannon and Soren. They avoided Lyta.

“Lyta!” Shannon screamed as she danced away from the creeping swarm.

Lyta charged over and scooped Shannon in her arms, lifting her toward the ceiling. “They can’t infect me—you need to grab the chain.”

Shannon winced and clung to the rusty steel so hard her arms shook. Soren started climbing on his own.

Outside the circle, Maddox and Heath were dealing with the chimeras. Heath was whipping his abraevium blades around, creating a barrier of cutting silver filament and flashing edges. His skin crackled with energy. The chimeras crouched, searching for an opening.

Maddox kept his back against the wall, the vile book hugged protectively across his chest.

“Can we use magic now?” Soren asked, glancing down at the carpet of worms below his boots. “Fire would be really nice.”

Lyta tried stomping on Quillian, but his worms were quick, parting just an instant before she could smash more than a few. It didn’t matter. She could do this all day.

“Fuck this.” Heath retracted his blades and let the chimeras lunge for him. He laid his hand on their heads, and the monsters glowed with golden Light that traced their bodies along the stitches binding them together. The things froze momentarily as the Light flickered through them and burst in a blinding flash.

The chimeras fell to pieces with a wet slopping sound.

Maddox asked, “The fuck?”

“I healed them back to their natural state… spare parts.” Heath shrugged. “You’re not the only one with brilliant ideas. Speaking of which… we need that circle broken.”

Soren was still climbing his chain. “I might know where Sword is. Daphne has a house on the edge of the city.”

“Maddox, can you lift them up through the hole?”

Maddox shook his head. “This circle is generating its own theurgy. Anything we put in there could fully activate it.”

“On the way here, you said it needs a vessel, right?” Lyta asked.

“To store and concentrate the energy,” Maddox said. “But I don’t see one.”

Lyta said, “Quillian said the vessel should have been one of the Proteans. I think he intends it to be him.”

“Burn those worms!” Heath yelled.

Soren spread his fingers and unleashed a torrent of fire as he swung from his chain. The flames licked the ground. They spread quickly across the slithering mass of Quillian’s true form. An acrid stench filled the air as the pulsing worms hissed and popped from the heat. The floor was covered in flames.

Shannon screamed and slipped from her chain. “Soren! Help me!”

She called for him first.

Soren shouted, “Servitus Mortuum!”

Two of the corpses on the chains shuddered to life and grappled her in their dangling legs.

“No more magic!” Maddox yelled. “This circle is still radiating theurgy.”

Heath asked, “Can a Harrower possess an unwilling vessel?”

Maddox hurled the book at Heath. “I don’t know anything more than you about this bonkers modality of ritual magic, so stop asking me.”

“Keep thinking pleasant thoughts. The Harrowers feed on resentment and fear,” Heath offered as a weak assurance. He didn’t seem like the type of person to ever lose his composure.

Lyta laughed to herself.
Easy for you to say. You didn’t just have your heart ripped out by the woman you love. You didn’t just lose her to a strange man and an ancient legacy.
She struggled to find a happy memory, but every single one she called to mind was of her and Shannon.

There. Something shivered deep inside her body. A primordial dark awareness crawled at the edges of her senses. It came with the promise of power and retribution.
They betrayed me: my father, Quillian, Shannon…

“No!” Lyta pressed her hands against her temples. None of this would have happened if Quillian hadn’t set it all into motion. It was him and the dark forces he trafficked with that were to blame. It was the Harrower who denied her right to feel her anger. It was Quillian’s kind who made her into a monster. She would not give them the satisfaction.

“Fight it, Lyta,” Heath said.

Maddox punched the air in frustration. “Daphne screwed us.”

Shannon turned to Lyta. “I know a lot has changed but—”

“You can go fuck yourself, Shannon. Up until yesterday you would have never lain with a man! You wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t let this man you met in a–a–sick torture dungeon stick his cock in you. This isn’t you, Shannon.”

Soren whispered, “She didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not saying she’s right, but pair bonding is confusing for everyone. It doesn’t mean she loves you any less.”

Lyta shook her head. “Tell me where the Sword is. I’ll go get it.”

“I’ll get Sword from Daphne,” Heath said. “See if you can get them out of the circle through the ceiling. Are you going to be okay in there?” He placed a subtle emphasis on his wording that let her know he was more concerned for her emotional well-being than her physical safety.
Why is he always so considerate and patient with me?

“Yes,” Lyta said.

“Maddox, you stay here in case something more happens.”

Maddox flopped his arms against his side. “Why? I can’t do shit about it. I might as well go with you for backup. You’ve been up against this madwoman three times without me and failed consistently.”

“And she’s gotten the drop on you twice. I will handle her. Trust me, this time I don’t plan on being gentle.” Heath marched up the stairs.

Lyta examined the hole in the ceiling. The edge was a maw of jagged splinters. The trick would be tearing out enough of the upper floor to get Soren and Shannon out. Quillian’s remains smoldered around her, the flames cooling to embers.

“So.” Maddox clapped his hands and tried to make conversation. “You guys are full-fledged ancient Patreans, huh? What’s that like?”

Soren grinned. “It’s pretty neat, actually.”

“Oh, shit,” Shannon said.

“What?” Soren asked.

“I’m pregnant.”

Lyta turned away. “Can this day get any worse?”

“Don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you wanted, Lyta. You wanted me to bear the Stormlord’s child, remember? Well, now I’m going to be mother to a forgotten empire. How is that any different?” Shannon said.

Lyta didn’t answer. If she thought her alien body could have born children, she gladly would have made the sacrifice herself. Instead, she crouched and leapt up to the rafter next to Shannon to dismantle the ceiling with her fist.

Lyta had been such an idiot. Shannon would have been safe from all of this nonsense if Lyta hadn’t poisoned Bejia. They would never have been forced from House Ibazz. Heath would never have needed to hunt her. Shannon would never have met Soren.
It really is all my fault.

Maddox interjected, “Uh… guys? You may want to see this.” He waved his hand at the edge of the barrier; it passed over the edge of the circle without resistance.

Soren jumped down from his chain and helped Shannon to the floor. Lyta dropped to the ground and tested it. The barrier was gone. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Maddox shrugged. “Why do you people keep asking me questions like I know something?”

Heath came running down the stairs to the basement. “It’s not safe here. The Harrower is out.”

T
HIRTY-
F
IVE

Nightmare

S
WORD

Your Most Holy Excellence,

As you well know, I am committed to our cause and will honor my vows to protect Ohan’s Creation from the legions of darkness, in whatever capacity is required. However I am concerned…

Heath is a heretic Stormlord who quit the order many years ago. Daphne was Abbess during the cataclysm over Rivern and has abandoned her path in a one-woman crusade against the Stormlords. I am confused by your instructions to capitulate to either of these unstable individuals and more vexed by why you would wish me to offer aid to both.

I do not question your wisdom, merely seek to understand so I can do the work of Ohan better. I should hope the station for which I have dedicated my life would make me privy to any greater designs.

Yours in Humble Service,

Abbot Argus

“THERE ARE ONLY
so many times you can say the word ‘fuck’ in a sentence before it loses all ability to describe the transcendentally awful depths of the shit that surrounds you. So whenever I say the word ‘fuck,’ please understand I could say it till the end of history, if time permitted, and it would still fail to convey the dire gravity of our situation. That being said… Fuck.”

Sword addressed the Abbot and his apprentice. A bumbling old man and a bumbling young man, united in their total lack of readiness for the weight of responsibility history had foisted upon them. They sat side by side on an overstuffed sofa while a fire crackled softly in the fireplace.

“What do we do, ma’am?” the apprentice asked in the most apprentice-like way.