The Triad of Finity (20 page)

They were treading on grated metal. Below was curving superstructure that reminded Oliver of the hull of a boat. To either side were windowless doors similar to the one they’d just exited. Other holding chambers, Oliver guessed. Lined cells for transporting beings between worlds.

Désirée reached a short, steep staircase and popped up out of sight. Oliver stopped, feeling Emalie behind him. “This is it,” he said hoarsely.

“Go,” said Emalie, and he could suddenly hear that old confidence in her voice. “We’re the Triad. We got this.”

Oliver nodded. He released her hand, grabbed the handrails and climbed up.

They emerged on an open platform, the flat top of a vessel shaped somewhat like a boat, with a pointed bow and a square back. The deck was level from front to back and made of long black planks. Part of the low railing around its perimeter was on fire near the back. There were slashes in the wood, too, like burn marks.

Huge steel cables were tied to thick iron rings and led up to a large gray zeppelin. Oliver glanced back and saw small, skeletal black creatures, similar to those that assisted at Aeonian Courier Services, all wearing goggles. They stood by a bank of controls and a large brass wheel, piloting the airship. Two others were working to extinguish the fire.

“Up here,” called Désirée. She stood ahead, at the point of the bow.

They stepped beside her. Despite their plight, Oliver still couldn’t resist a tremor of wonder at the view before them.

Nexia. Oliver remembered it from his dream in the school gym: there were the brilliantly clear planets, galaxies and nebulae in the sky; the globular, luminous blobs that were individual worlds, spinning across the pure black, all so close you felt like you could jump and touch them; below, the blood-red, canyon-riddled plains stretching in all directions; the curving amethyst and jade spires, mostly toppled and broken, dotting the uneven land; and in the distance, a hazy glow on the horizon.

The Gate. Though it was miles away, Oliver could still make out a sense of vertical metal, a massive structure, and even from this distance the light made him squint.

“It’s really lovely,” said Désirée, “Don’t you think? Took us ages to construct.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just open it yourself,” said Emalie, squinting at the light. “I mean, if you built it, don’t you like, have a key or something?”

Désirée looked down at her and smiled. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” Emalie snapped.

“For starters, safe transport across thirty-five worlds,” said Désirée. “That’s not an easy journey. Then, Emalie, I’ve given you an enchantment to survive here in a world with no air. After all, who would want to miss your sassy comments?

“But,” she continued, “to answer your question: No individual Architect has the power to open the Gate. It’s the linchpin, the final brick in the wall, if you will, of the universe. And building the universe took us a long time. So, we Architects built the Gate so that we could only open it if we were in unanimous agreement. Needless to say, we’re not, and probably never will be.”

“You can’t open it, but a vampire and a girl from Earth can,” said Emalie.

“Yes, that’s how it turned out,” said Désirée. She smiled at this. “These are exactly the kind of surprises that make universe-building so fun. I can’t wait to do the next one.”

The airship was nearing the ground. Oliver saw a road beneath them, saw a stagecoach parked on the crushed obsidian. The creatures on deck scuttled about, throwing ropes over the sides of the ship. One lowered a rope ladder.

“This way,” said Désirée. Oliver and Emalie followed her to the ladder. “Now I’ll go first.” She swung her leg over the railing. “And please, don’t waste anyone’s time trying to get away. I don’t want to have to damage you before we get there.” She smiled and started down.

Emalie rolled her eyes. “Never liked her,” she muttered.

Oliver tried to smile at this, but it didn’t quite form. Too many nerves now, jangling inside him, a symphony of vibrations all off-key with one another.

They climbed down the creaking ladder. Their sneakers crunched on the curved shards of black glass. Each footstep slid before catching. Désirée stepped into the stagecoach. Oliver looked at the large zombie horses, their mud-colored hair and red eyes, their thick hooves crushing the glass to powder as they stamped impatiently. The coach was painted dark red with black and gold trim. Its windows were hung with black velvet curtains. There was no driver sitting atop it.

Oliver and Emalie climbed inside. One of the creatures closed the door. The horses immediately started to tug forward, increasing speed, their feet crashing on the glass. Despite the rough road, the coach’s ride was smooth.

Désirée sat across from them. “Comfortable, isn’t it?”

Oliver and Emalie didn’t reply.

“Do you like my new skin?” Désirée pushed back her sleeve and ran her long black-painted index fingernail up and down her wrist. “I had my Merchynt tailor add in the veins this time, or, should I say, harvest the veins, too. I think it gives me a more realistic look.”

“That’s disgusting,” said Emalie.

“Tuh,” clucked Désirée. “What do you think your leather belt is made out of, deary: smiles and hugs?”

“Why are you even in that disguise?” Oliver asked.

“For old time’s sake,” said Désirée. “Once we open the Gate, this human form will be obsolete.”

Oliver pulled back the curtain and watched the landscape blur by. They were moving incredibly fast. Each outcropping of rock or fallen crystal building had a long dark shadow trailing behind it like a cape. As they traveled, the shadows grew shorter, the golden glow on the face of everything getting brighter. The light of the Gate …

Oliver. See me clearly.

The voice spoke in his mind and Oliver remembered it from his first dream of this place. It was the voice of the Gate itself. He’d heard that phrase somewhere else too … but he couldn’t remember where. What did it mean?

What did what mean
? Emalie thought to him.

“What are you two scheming about over there?” Désirée asked, peering at them.

“Nothing,” said Oliver quickly, remembering that Désirée could read their thoughts too. And yet it seemed like neither she nor Emalie had heard the Gate just now. Only him.

Outside, the light was growing. Oliver had to squint just to make out the landscape. They were passing a crumbling amphitheater made entirely of jade.

All at once, the coach stopped.

“And here we are.” Désirée smiled. Oliver saw her skin ripple strangely, the real mouth of giant teeth, the huge coin eyes and horns moving on their own beneath her costume. “Showtime, kids.”

She ushered them out the door. Oliver dropped down onto the road and had to shield his eyes against the all-encompassing brightness. He looked up to see the Gate towering over them, still a few hundred yards away but hundreds of feet tall, a massive golden door on thick hinges, but attached to nothing, standing free on the plain, casting its light in all directions.

“Whoa,” Emalie breathed. She was squinting up at it. Peering more closely, Oliver could see that its entire surface was engraved with designs—stars, demons, creatures, all in intricate detail, intertwining: a mural of every aspect of the entire universe.

“This way,” said Désirée. She rounded the stagecoach. Oliver and Emalie followed. A stone path led across the red plain, weaving between the crystal ruins. Oliver could see that ahead, it led to a jutting table of rock that rose up at an angle out of the plains, like the bow of a half-sunken ship. It reached toward the gate, ending at a flat mesa top with steep cliffs on all sides. Oliver could see a wide jade staircase twisting up the side. There was a structure up there, too: some kind of temple ringed by columns.

Oliver felt a deep shudder. That was the spot where it would end. His legs tingled. He felt like he was swimming in his head. Emalie kept a tight hold of his hand.

As they neared the staircase, Oliver could now see that there were others here—vampires lining the stairs, all the way up to the top—Half-Light, all dressed nicely, like for a formal event. Of course, this
was
a formal event, and one that Half-Light had been planning for a long time. They must have begun arriving once they knew that Oliver and Emalie had been caught.

“Why are you even working with them?” Emalie asked Désirée.

“Convenience,” said Désirée off-handedly. “We realized after that whole episode at the Darkling Ball that we both want the same thing. Why hold grudges?”

They started up the stairs, and Oliver saw that, like the Gate, each jade step was carved with every creature imaginable, slithering and sliding together.

They passed the vampires, who watched them in silence. Oliver recognized many of the faces. Some nodded approvingly at him: the chosen one, finally making good. And each group that they passed fell into step behind him, a procession of the undead.

A flash of light caught his eye. Halfway up the staircase, there was a flat ledge carved out of the side of the incline. On it was a silver, diamond-shaped pedestal. The flash was another group of vampires arriving, from the Transmitter at Half-Light. They stepped down and moved toward the stairs just as Oliver and Emalie passed.

What do you think is happening back there?
Oliver thought to Emalie.

Don’t know
, said Emalie.
I keep trying to contact Dean, but I can’t find him.

They kept climbing, past hundreds of vampires. Oliver felt warm Gate light on his cheek.

The stairs ended at the round temple, its columns and half-crumbled roof built entirely of amethyst crystal. Instead of entering, they turned left and walked out along the narrow, flat plateau, heading directly into the brilliant Gate light. They passed the last vampires, who stood in a semi-circle facing the Gate.

Ahead, his form a narrow eclipse of the light, was a tall thin man in a long, hooded robe. He stood just before the pointed end of the plateau, in the center of a disc of solid gold, twenty feet in diameter. It was etched with a detailed map of orbiting worlds and planets. Skrit markings ringed its edge. It gleamed, nearly blinding in the Gate light.

The man turned and pushed back his hood.

Illisius.

“Hello, Oliver,” he said. Désirée walked over and stood beside him.

Oliver could barely walk anymore. He and Emalie proceeded slowly onto the disc. Oliver felt the metal beneath his feet almost as if it was pushing up against him, trying to collapse his bones, crush him. Or he was about to sink into it. He couldn’t do this. Or rather, he couldn’t
not
do this. There was energy here, power. He could feel the Gate vibrating his very existence.

A strange hissing sound grew behind him. Oliver turned back to see that the whole vampire crowd had moved to the edge of the disc, their numbers growing, and they were all whispering some incantation in Skrit.

Oliver found Illisius gazing at him, and smiling. As if Oliver should have been excited about this.

“We have come to end what was once begun,” said Illisius, speaking loudly, as if to the entire universe. “We have come to free those who have been oppressed. We have come to make again what was imperfect.”

We need Dean!
Oliver shouted at Emalie.

I know
. … Oliver could hear the strain in Emalie’s thoughts.
I can’t find him!

“The prophecy is now complete,” Illisius continued. “The Anointed will step forward and complete their destiny.”

Oliver felt awash in waves of panic. This was happening too fast, and there was nothing they could do! It was terrible. The end. And the worst part was that Oliver would survive it. He was about to open the Gate and he would be fine. But as for those he loved …

He gripped Emalie’s hand more tightly, and felt her shaking.
I’m so sorry
, he thought to her.

Suddenly Emalie shouted to him,
Wait!

“We shall now—” Illisius stopped.

Oliver looked and saw that Désirée had touched Illisius’s arm, and now they were looking up. There was light on their faces, but not from the Gate. This was from above.

Oliver looked up to see lights drifting down like embers from a firework, yet as they neared he could see that they were larger: luminous spheres of energy, and there seemed to be figures inside them, white-robed figures. …

Mom!
Emalie cried.

A scream pierced the minds of all on the plateau, the unison, demon-tinged cry of eight women. They landed in a semi-circle around the gold altar, all wielding jade mirrors in their hands.

“Attechhhhhh!”
They cried. The Skrit for attack.

Chapter 16

The Fallen

Emalie let go of Oliver’s hand.
Something I need to do.

The Orani were landing, their battle cry still ringing across the plains. Oliver saw that Emalie’s eyes had ignited red and searing white.
Don’t worry,
Emalie thought to him.
We trained for this.

“Désirée!” Emalie suddenly screamed aloud, yet her voice was like nothing Oliver had heard before. Actually, no, he had heard something like this before, when Emalie had been Syren. This was her inner demon unleashed. She thrust her hand out before her. A jade Architect mirror appeared in her grasp. Beams of light shot from each of the mirrors held by the Orani, all converging on Emalie’s in a searing ball. Emalie lifted from the ground, her eyes burning bright red, and smiled toward Désirée, who had only just begun to thrust her hand forward, a ball of red energy forming at her fingertips.

But Emalie was first.

“Meet Eos!” she screamed. A single beam of energy, the sum of all the Orani power and that of the Architects too, burst forth from her mirror.

Désirée began to smile in a kind of defiant snarl, but the beam of light blasted into her chest and consumed her in light. She fought, staggering, then writhing.

“
You have betrayed your brothers and sisters
,” a deep voice boomed, coming from the mirrors. The Architects speaking in unison.

Désirée’s human costume began to melt away. There was a thrashing of her many arms and legs, a screech that tore at everyone’s minds, and then Dead Désirée exploded in a burst of light. It was solid and blinding, and then sucked in on itself. When it was gone, no trace of the rogue Architect remained.