The Persistence of Memories - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (35 page)

Good luck, Matthew. You're about to be
incarcerated, despite your heroics. We'll meet again, I'm sure.
Tell Agent Poe I said hello.

Saisshalé’s voice faded quickly along with
all the other echoes of late night Bridgetown. Tires screeching
suddenly, he watched the police cruiser take a wide curve onto
Grieves.

He froze in place, cursing aloud. This was
not the way he'd expected to be caught by the BMPD. It was
overkill, it really was. Saisshalé had proven his point, and proven
it well. He crossed the street slowly, and to his amazement had
made it without falling. But that was all he had. The Kellerman
building was half a block away, and there was no way he’d make it
in time. Finally giving into exhaustion, he dropped to the curb and
tucked his head between his knees.

“Bastard...” he growled, though he knew that
Saisshalé had already left the area. The void of the man’s soul had
been filled somehow. He tried pushing himself up again, lost his
battle, and slowly laid himself back down on the cold hard
pavement, facing away from the street, and closed his eyes. Seconds
later he was out.

“Davison.”

Matthew stirred.

“Davison! Get your ass up!”

He felt a hand grasp his shoulder tightly,
shaking him awake. He stirred again and opened his eyes. The dull
white of a solitary holding cell wall appeared before him,
partially blocked by the BMPD officer standing over him.

“About damned time,” the officer said, and
stepped away. “Get up. We're transferring you.”

“Wh...where?” he croaked. He managed to prop
himself up onto his elbow. His strength was slowly returning, but
he wasn't about to rush it.

The officer huffed. “Branden Hill ARU has a
use for you, believe it or not,” he said. “Pisses me off, but
there's nothing I can do about it. Apparently you've made quite the
splash with the governor. He put in the transfer himself.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation,
Matthew smirked. “Well...tell Anton I said thanks.”

“I’m not telling that jackass anything,” the
officer said and moved towards him again. “Come on, we don't have
all night.” He started to grab for his shoulder again, but Matthew
twitched out of his grasp and pushed himself off the cot. The
officer snorted at him and stood back, admitting defeat. He
escorted him out of the cell and into a long hallway. The floors
were black, the walls gray, and the ceiling tiles a pockmarked
white. There were no windows to be seen anywhere. Other cells lined
both sides of the hallway. Completely devoid of color, life, and
spirit.

“So this is BMPD,” Matthew said. “I was
expecting as much.”

“High level holding cells, Davison,” the
officer grumbled. “I'd watch your mouth.”

“Sorry, sir,” he smirked. “So Anton called me
out of here?”

“Actually, one of the CNF lackeys called,” he
said. “The weasel. Priestley.”

His smile quickly vanished at that name.
“Jack Priestley?”

The officer shoved a portable vidmat at him
and turned it on. A data packet opened itself up and displayed a
signed order from Priestley — unsigned by Rieflin, he noticed —
allowing the transfer.

Taking the vidmat, he flicked at the
interactive screen, scrolling down the order until he found the
officer demanding the transfer. Chief Inspector Dylan Farraway.
Alec and Caren's boss. He nodded and handed the vidmat back to the
officer as he was led to the end of one hallway then down another.
He tried to make sense of it and couldn't. Why would Farraway go as
high as the governor to get him out of the hands of the BMPD? What
did he want with him? As far as he knew, Farraway knew about his
connection with Poe, but that was it.

After a maze of hallways and stairs, Matthew
was surprised to see windows. It was still late night, most likely
coming up towards dawn soon. He saw the familiar shapes of
Bridgetown, all the office towers and techware buildings all in a
tightly packed area, and realized he was looking southward. The
Mirades Tower rose over everything else as always. He was being
held at the Main Headquarters on North Main in McCleever Sector, a
simple drive up Jamison Avenue.

The officer led him to a series of desks,
where he picked up his belongings and was officially released.
There was an odd quaintness in this rush of paperwork and
processing. It was seriously less demanding than he thought it
would be. And when they were finally done, with the sun slowly
rising over the ocean, they made their way to transport.

“We're taking four-thirteen,” the officer
said when they walked into the garage. A fleet of black BMPD
cruisers lined both walls, waiting to be used. Their car was
halfway back on the left. From the entrance, he saw what looked
like a yellow smudge on the concrete floor in front of the car, but
couldn't make out what it was. From this distance it looked like
graffiti. He'd heard of gangs infiltrating police garages, even
headquarters, spraying their tag as a sign of bravery or
initiation. This would be no different.

“Smartpaint,” the officer said to him as they
approached the car. He pointed downward at the graffiti that still
looked fresh. “Been here for three days. No one can get the damn
stuff out, not even the drones.”

Matthew read the sprayed words.
Here lies
fate
.

“Curious,” he said.

“You know something about this?” the officer
pointed down. “You know who did this shit?”

“Me? No. I've just seen it a lot lately. Same
as everyone else.”

The officer gave him another stare before
opening the rear door and letting Matthew in. “You're a jacker,” he
said. “You should at least know what the hell this 'here lies fate'
shit is all about. It's damn near everywhere.”

Matthew dismissed the comment and answered
the question. “Honestly? I don't know a damn thing.” It wasn't
exactly the truth, but it seemed to appease the man. The officer
jumped in and started the car, momentarily glancing in the rearview
to check that his prisoner was behaving.

“Well...” the man said. “Perhaps you should.”
He shifted gears and pulled out of the parking spot a little faster
than necessary, squealing tires as he headed towards the exit.
Matthew looked over his shoulder at the ground behind them, at the
simple design of the tag. Just three plainly written words inside a
rectangular box, no swirls or crosses involved. It looked nothing
like the other graffiti he'd seen that included these three cryptic
words.

Here lies fate.

Matthew turned back around and faced forward
just as the car pulled up to the vehicle exit. He asked the officer
to open the passenger window, just so he could get some fresh air.
The autumn sky was slowly turning from dull black to a dusty gray
to a deep blue and he heard the first morning calls of the birds as
soon as they exited. He yawned, his strength now restored but his
body exhausted, and his mind cluttered. There was nothing else he
could do now. He closed his eyes and napped as the officer drove
him back to Branden Hill District, to ARU Headquarters.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Madhyané

Amna Ehramanis hated nights like this. She
stirred on her futon and stared upwards, watching the interplay
between light and shadow on her ceiling. She'd thrown off all the
bed sheets hours ago. She rolled and wriggled and could not find
one comfortable position. All the windows were open, she'd taken a
freezing cold shower, her fan was going full blast, and still she
sweated and squirmed. She even tried sleeping in the nude, to no
avail. Why couldn't she sleep?

That trip to her sehna lumia had caused all
this discomfort. Her body had wound itself up with such intense
energies she could barely contain them. This wasn't a runaway
adrenalin rush; this was a spiritual buzzing from within. She felt
free
, even freer than she knew or understood or deserved.
She'd been awakened by Nehalé Usarai's ritual just like everyone
else, but now she'd been Awakened by the One of All Sacred! By
Denni!

Yet here she was, still staring up at the
ceiling, frustrated as all hell because she couldn't do anything
about it. She was here, in her bed, waiting for the morning to
arrive. Why did this room feel like a sweltering ninety-five
degrees when she knew it to be in the low sixties? Was it her
spirit, begging to be set free?

She needed to do something about it, right
now, before it drove her crazy.

Ampryss,
she called out from within.
She had no idea if she could reach her. She’d made it up to
Trisanda with help from Denni, and was reasonably certain she could
get there by herself now. Calling Ampryss was a long shot, but
worth the try.
Ampryss,
she called again.
It's me, Amna
Ehramanis. Denysia's friend.

She closed her eyes and grunted, embarrassed
by her pathetic attempt. Even if she could hear her, why would she
want to talk to her? She tried once more, this time focusing on her
remembrances of Trisanda. She remembered the five-pronged Möbius
strip she'd seen in the Great Field...the sigil of her family name
and of her Mannaki heritage. She used it as a focus point and tried
one more time.

Ampryss...

A breath that was not her own startled her.
Ah...Amnaia Ehramanis,
came the response. She did not sound
entirely happy to hear from her.
I am surprised to hear your
voice, young one.

If I have interrupted...
Amna
began.

No, not at all. Just unexpected. Your
spiritual strength has grown so much.

Strength? Amna squirmed again, and rolled
over until she lay flat on her back. She thought of asking her what
she meant, but felt it would have just wasted time. She took
another deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the woman's
presence again.

You are always welcome here, Amnaia,
Ampryss said.
I do apologize for my discomfort in this
situation, as your call was unexpected. Is there something I may
help you with?

I'm a little confused,
she started.
I thought I'd been awakened already, and now it feels like I've
been awakened again. Does that make sense?

She felt the warm wave of energy and read it
as amusement.
Perfect sense, eichi. In a way, you have. I cannot
adequately explain why something like this would happen. It can
only be something you experience on your own. When edha Usarai
performed his first Awakening, your spirit was affected. You became
more conscious of those around you, as well as your own sense of
being. You were drawn towards Denysia Shalei in such a way that you
knew not to question it. You knew, even then, that you were her
Protector, and you accepted that responsibility gladly.

Amna nodded silently. That had soothed her
anxiety, and now she rode this calming wave even further. She
peeked outside and saw the eastern sky beginning to fade into the
gray-blue of dawn. She had been up all night without a wink, and
she did not feel exhausted, but now she did not feel animated
anymore. Just...at rest. As centered as she'd ever been in her
entire life.

And it felt incredible.

Yes,
Amna said.
And I still
do.

Ampryss hummed in agreement.
Very well. I
shall tell you, then, that this second Awakening is a personal one.
You have not fully experienced it yet, but you shall, and very
soon. I do not wish ill upon you, dearest child...but I am afraid
of what might happen to you. In order to complete your awakening,
you must visit your own true sehna lumia. You must see for yourself
who and what you really are. Do you understand?

Amna shivered.
I think I understand. But I
don't know if I'm ready.

You are ready for the second trial,
Amnaia,
she said.
It is the truth you are not ready
for.

“That doesn't make sense,” she whispered into
the otherwise quiet room. She let out a breath of frustration...and
felt something odd. She'd closed her eyes earlier to focus...but
now it felt different. She wasn't in waking Light any longer. No,
this felt altogether different, physically and spiritually. As if
she’d crossed some invisible line, some barrier between realities,
and she hadn’t connected with this new one just yet. Distanced.
Dislocated.

She opened her eyes and saw...

...a blinding snowstorm. She was...crawling?
Her bare arms thrust into deep snow, her head tucked down between
her shoulders to cover herself from the wet squall. Deathly cold
winds railed against her, pushing her closer and closer to the
ground, making her
crawl
through these snowdrifts until she
had been pushed enough. She was —

What the hell...?

— she was dying.
Dying!
The Light of
her body, her spirit awareness, began draining itself downward,
downward into the ground, leaving a bloody trail of spattered
crimson in her wake. She was —

Oh Goddess. I'm dying. I've been stabbed.
I've been...

— fatally wounded by a dagger into her heart.
She felt the long knife even now, stinging and hard and growing
venomous within her, blood filling her mouth and her lungs. She'd
been stabbed. Someone had killed her, had sought her out and ended
her life and her spirit, all in one go.

A—Ampryss....I —

...someone who knew
how
to kill her,
for she knew that she was an immortal, a spirit that could not die.
She would return, and she would know and remember this violation
upon her body and soul. She would exact revenge. But each time, she
would have to relearn. She would need to relearn who she was,
what
she was, and to avoid this cruel fate once more. She
could not die because of her responsibility to the One of All
Sacred, even here, in this wintry landscape. And despite the
searing pain cutting through her, she knew she
could not
die.
She had to reach...