The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) (31 page)

But worse still was to witness so closely the deterioration of Dr. Mustang into something that would soon overcome his brilliant mind. The man had tried to hide in a corner, only cried when he was not sleeping or vomiting, cleaning away the clumps of hair and teeth that he shed.

The infection was taking a hold of his body much faster than normal. “The Subject Edward strain works fast,” he had told her in one of his few moments of lucid thought, when he wasn’t overcome by horror.

He was slowly losing himself, humiliated by his transformation, and he’d often try to hide the increasingly grotesque parts of his body, only to find there was no way; his limbs had gained the size and texture of a large tree trunk; both his arms and legs had already grown to the point when they had torn his clothing, leaving him almost naked. Worse still: he couldn’t seem to move at all—there was no strength in those repulsive limbs.

At least not yet.

After waking, Felix couldn’t remove his eyes from the doctor, all too aware that soon enough he’d lose all of his humanity and would be more than capable of tearing him apart. It had taken long for Felix to regain consciousness; Tessa had knocked him out with no warning, so he had been fortunate enough to miss the events of the docking bay. His reaction to hearing what Tessa had done to Jed had terrified her; she could see the rage in his eyes, but the rest of his face—his entire body—remained unmoved.

Yet, if anything, he was determined to escape. More than once he had successfully used grooves and bolts in the chamber walls to successfully climb several feet up. However, despite all his efforts, escape seemed completely impossible.

She didn’t tell him, but for the first time in her life, Vivian felt
entirely
hopeless.

“Vivian,” Dr. Mustang said one time, and his voice frightened her (and Felix too, she was sure). It was so hoarse it was almost unintelligible; the virus had turned his throat into a cluster of scabs; it was a wonder he could even breathe. “I know exactly what’s happening to my body, Vivian, and I know I’m almost gone, and I’m sorry.”

She wanted to tell him that he’d be okay, try to comfort him, but she couldn’t. The lie was too shameless, too stupid. She could only ease his pain by listening to what could very well be his last lucid words. “Tell me.”

“Listen,” the doctor said and a low growl underlined his words. “I think they didn’t kill either of you because you’re part of their—of their plan.”

He took a deep and raspy breath, and a tooth fell from his mouth. He winced at the sight, not at any sort of pain.

“I think I figured Heath’s plan: he wants Lys to come back,” he said.

“Why?” Felix asked, angry.

“Because Lys is a parasite, not a
god
.” There was spite in the word. “It doesn’t intend to stay on this planet. It wants to absorb all it can take, and then he’ll leave. I hadn’t put the pieces together until I heard Tessa speak. Heath doesn’t want to fight Lys; he wants it to win so it will leave our planet.”

“It won’t leave without first destroying everything in here,” argued Felix.

“But maybe not,” said Dr. Mustang, and coughed.

“So what, he’s willing to risk what’s left of humanity on a coin flip?” Felix said, furious. “He can’t be that stupid. That’s not what’s happening here, Mustang.”

“He’s not stupid; he’s crazy,” said Vivian. “Or maybe there’s a failsafe to it that we don’t know. Dr. Mustang, what did Tessa mean? She said she was part of something—that she’d rise.”

“I think she means—she believes she’s part of Lys, that she’s one of the three children: the first humans to become infected with the Laani, the true remains of the alien parasite. The origin of the Laani, what really happened during the Fall of Terria, we don’t know how it happened . . . but Dahlia Mizrahi could trace it back to two young men and one young woman from a village that later became Kerek.”

“Ah, yeah: Helena, Nedar, and Demetrius,” said Felix. “Her crazy sister told the older pilots. It’s nonsense. Even Director Blanchard thinks it’s nonsense.”

“Shut up, I don’t know this,” Vivian snapped. “What happened to them?”

“I don’t know, exactly—no one does. All Dr. Mizrahi could find through what little evidence she had was that those three first infected didn’t become Flecks, like I—no . . . they became something else. They still exist somewhere, and they are the three parts of the lifeform. She believed that Lys will return, stronger than he ever was, when the three parts it split itself into—those three kids—return to be one again.”

“I don’t understand,” said Vivian. “That isn’t what they told us.”

“Of course it isn’t; this is just something Dahlia Mizrahi wrote on a notebook decades ago, and there’s nothing else to understand,” Felix said. “Half of what she claimed to discover was bullcrap, and you know it, Mustang. Tessa and Heath are just insane. There is no plan. There is only what’s happening right here, Poole, and what’s happening is we’re waiting for
him
to slaughter us.”

“Shut up, Goodwin,” said Vivian. “I thought Lys was coming together through the Flecks, that they were returning to put him back together.”

“He’s a parasite. He comes to a planet, infects its inhabitants, and then absorbs them so he can become more powerful. That’s what’s happening
right now
.” Dr. Mustang groaned and began to cough. A slimy red liquid poured from his mouth and nose. “Listen, Vivian: Tessa might be one of the three, or made from—she’s
unkillable
. Don’t let her—”

His coughing became more violent, and Vivian could see that Dr. Mustang could no longer breathe. He was being strangled by his own encrusted throat. The man dragged himself away as best as he could with this massive, useless limbs, desperately convulsing and gasping for air.

She ran to his side, held his head in her hands.

“Don’t—Viv—afraid . . .”

“No, don’t be afraid,” she said, trying to comfort him, and her own throat grew tight.

“I—help—help you,” he said, and he finally closed his eyes.

His throat was swollen, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, and the smell almost made her vomit.

“You helped me.”

And then he was completely still.

“He’s gone,” Felix said, inviting her to come to him, away from Dr. Mustang’s body, as though it could betray and kill her.

“No, wait,” she said, looking down at the dead man, fighting tears. “He’s still breathing, I can hear it. He’s just passed out, right—he’s not dead, not yet. Right?”

“Poole, he’s gone, but you’re right about him not being dead. He’ll continue to grow now and pretty soon he’ll be like those things we could only fight in the Creuxen. You and I need to figure out a way to get out of here. Understand that Tessa is not coming back for us, no matter what Mustang thought.”

“
There’s no way out of here
!” she yelled.

Dr. Mustang’s body shifted on the floor. His eyes were open, but no longer human. They were only dead, yellow orbs without a retina, and they somehow knew that he was looking at them.

He didn’t blink, was no longer breathing. He was no longer human.

She was glad that if she was going to die, at least she’d do it as a human being. Still, she was disappointed. If she was going to die, she didn’t want to do it here.

Why die to the lesser monster?

ф

Akiva knew what had to be done. He recognized the bigger sacrifices, and could only wish that his friends—the only form of
god
that he could perceive externally—would forgive him for it.

Though he knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t expect them to understand.

He thought of heaven, and the music of Milos Ravana’s heart bursting with power and bringing him to his other life was intense and arousing, even under the desperate circumstances.

Once again Akiva was in control of his real body, the one that came first, and the one that would go last. He moved every powerful finger, tested every joint. His shoulder was still broken; the arm was only at 94 percent capacity.

Drat
, he thought, but didn’t blame Garros for his rage-fueled attack.

He was only human.

Milos Ravana left the circle of the Creuxen and took three steps towards the atrium protecting the city of Clairvert.

It has to be done
, he thought.
And it
will
be done
.

He drew back his fist and punched. The azure stone cracked.

He drew back his fist and punched. Pieces of stone fell onto the ground.

He put his hands on the wall and drew the power from his heart. Light covered Milos Ravana’s hands. Then the heartflow gathered on his palms until the stone melted. The blast was shot so hard he hurt his shoulder even more—down to 92 percent.

The wall the people of the city called the atrium—a winding maze of surreal folding stone that kept all monstrous threats outside—shattered before his hands. The fortress, impregnable to the lesser creatures, even to his other, lesser half in purple, had not been able to stand before him, and now fell in large, heavy pieces of rock.

Milos Ravana walked into the hall that housed the city, now wide open, and the battle began
.

Chapter 16

The Gravity of it All

Elena
—

“What did you just say?” asked Farren, picking Ezra up by his robe. Ezra’s eyes focused to the darkness of the passage; no one had set the torches alight, and with the door to Clairvert closed behind him, all he could see were hundreds of shadows wailing like phantoms.

The screams intensified when he heard the Carriers crashing against the door, trying to break it down. People started to move away, towards the chapel, hoping that there would be safety there. Ezra could only hope the door would hold, or there would truly be no escape.

“I thought you’d leave us out there,” said Ezra, panting.

“What? What do you think I am?” Farren asked, and Ezra noticed a white binding covering his nose; the swollen purple flesh was still clear beneath. “I apologize for hurting you when you attacked me, but I was sworn to protect everyone in Clairvert. No, I don’t like you, but I’ve already lost too much. Too much, man.”

“We need help here,” Garros said after the young woman in his arms cried out in pain. “Move out of the way.”

Ezra felt the huge man walk past him and used one arm to open a way between the people. Ezra took the chance and followed him into the chapel. He could barely move—it was too many people in a tight space—and he could barely hear Garros. He couldn’t even tell if the words he heard were aimed at him.

“We need help!” Garros said when he finally reached the open space of the chapel. “She was stepped on—her arm is broken. Anyone here? Who knows her?”

“She’s my wife!” an older man said. “My wife! Maria! Thank you!”

Garros put the young woman down and the man shouldered her weight. He thanked Garros again and they walked away, both crying in their relief.

“You, come on,” Garros told Ezra. “Captain, you too. Back there. Sorry about yesterday, by the way.”

Though Garros was being earnest, Farren didn’t reply.

Two soldiers who wore a uniform like Malachi’s had stood guard outside of the door leading to Lys’ sanctum, perfectly aware of the importance of protecting it—and the citizens—from each other. They didn’t even ask for any kind of accreditation, or waited for Farren’s verbal order; they moved aside to let the three of them pass.

“What the hell happened? What did you people do now?” Farren asked.

“No, Captain, that wasn’t us,” Garros growled. He had been hiding his rage from the citizens in an attempt to avoid worsening the situation. “That sure as hell wasn’t us.”

“It was that thing,” Jena said when she saw them step into the sanctum, and pointed at Alice, standing incomplete at the other end of the chamber, held in the hands of a giant. “It’s been controlling Lazarus from here. I don’t know how—it’s doing it. It can do it—where’s Kiv?”

Ezra and Garros looked at each other.

“Where is he?” Jena asked again.

“He’s out there. He ran off,” said Ezra. “But he’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

She shook her head and clenched her teeth, cursing Akiva’s name bitterly. Months before, a vain and selfish side of Ezra would have been secretly happy about the deterioration of their relationship; now that the world had rid him of both those qualities, Jena’s anger only made him sad. After all, he had other things to worry about now.

His stomach hurt when he thought of Elena. He could only hope that her safe refuge would be such, keeping her alive just for a few more minutes.

Then they’d leave together, and the ridiculous exile would be lifted.

“What happened? What happened out there?” yelled William. He was showing the obvious signs of a panic attack. He could barely speak through the tears, could barely breathe as his lungs refused to be still. “Are the people safe? Are we going to be okay—”

He fell to his knees and clutched at his chest. Jena ran to him, checked his eyes. “You’re going to be okay, William. We’re leaving this place, now, and you’re coming with us. All right? All right?” said Jena comfortingly, as though they had never crossed angry words.