This Broken Wondrous World (29 page)

BOOK: This Broken Wondrous World
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La Perricholi groaned and dropped to her knees. Claire moved over to help her.

“Stay back!” La Perricholi growled more than spoke as she shoved Claire away.

“But,” said Moreau, “someone who is a carrier can become a full-fledged werewolf. All that's needed is the proper catalyst. Wolf blood, to be precise.”

There was a sharp crack as La Perricholi's legs bent into the hind legs of a wolf, followed by a wet tearing sound as her skin began to split open.

“Poor thing,” said Moreau. “I've heard the first change is always the hardest.”

She opened her mouth, showing pointed canines, and let out a scream that slowly rounded into a howl. Her body continued to twist and contort as her shape changed, her clothes tore, and her fur grew. Finally, she stood there, a wolf.

“Perricholi?” I took a step toward her. “Camilla?”

She growled at me, her lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Careful,” said Moreau. “It usually takes them a few turns before they're able to assert their intelligence over instinct.”

La Perricholi cocked her head, listening to something. She shook off the remaining tatters of clothing, then ran out of the room and down one of the hallways deeper into The Commune.

“Now, where were we?” asked Moreau.

“What about me?” said Claire, pointing her gun at Moreau. “You going to tell me my mum is still alive or something?”

“I'm afraid not, Ms. Hyde,” said Moreau. “Sadly, your mother was indeed murdered by your aunt when she took her own life. Truth be told, I've tried a few different tacks to get at your weak spot and I must commend you on your resilience. So I'm afraid I'm just going to have to take the more direct approach with you.” He cocked his head to one side. “NOW!” he said in deep, throaty growl.

A flock of winged beast people launched up into the air from where they had been hiding beneath the Sphinx's wings. They looked sort of like harpies, except they had pointy birdlike faces and sharp bird eyes. Some of them even had beaks instead of mouths.

“Boy! Claire! Get behind me!” said my father.

“Now, now,” said Moreau. “You really should let the children fight their own battles. Besides, you're going to be busy fighting me.”

The bird people came at us fast. Hit-and-run from twenty different angles at once. Just a streak of feathers, then pain. They darted in and out, never giving me a chance to grab them or even hit them as they slashed at me with their talons. Before long I was covered in thin gashes. Then I realized they were targeting my stitches. First one arm fell off, then a leg. When I fell to the ground, a couple of them fought over my limbs for a little, shredding them into bits.

Near me I could see Claire, still on her feet, but blood streaming from more wounds than I could count. She had La Perricholi's pistols in her hands and she was firing wildly into the air, only occasionally managing to tag one of the bird people. On the other side of the room, I caught a glimpse of my father wrestling with Moreau, blood spraying into the air as they tore at each other.

Then the bird people were on top of me, pressing down on my
chest with their clawed feet. One of them pecked out my left eye. Pain lanced through my head as the creature greedily gulped down the pulp.

“Enough!” Moreau's voice seemed to echo through my brain. But the bird people kept coming at me. “I SAID ENOUGH!!!”

Moreau's clawed hands grabbed at the bird people, hurling some across the room, smashing others into the ground, until the rest scattered.

“The stubborn beast flesh,” Moreau muttered. “It always creeps back in.” Then he looked down at me. “Oh, dear, you're quite a mess. Thankfully, you're a hardy lad. I think you'll pull through. Although you may wish you hadn't.”

I struggled weakly as he picked me up in his arms and carried me over to the power generator. I raised my head and I saw Claire, also lying on the ground, moving weakly, covered in blood.

“Kemp,” said Moreau, “I promised I would not allow Ms. Hyde to be killed, and I may have need of the human female as a test subject. So if you would kindly move them to the side, out of harm's way, I would appreciate it.”

Kemp didn't respond, but I saw Holmes and Claire slowly being dragged by invisible hands over to one side.

Moreau knelt down next to me, reached into my pocket, and took out Vi's phone.

“Hello, Vi,” he said. “I know you're there. You might as well show yourself.”

Her anime avatar flickered onto the screen, scowling.

“Oh, don't be like that, my dear,” said Moreau, forcing his ape face into a grotesque pout. “Especially when I'm about to make your dreams come true.”

“I don't want anything from you, Moreau,” she said.

“Are you sure? It seems to me that you are still lacking a body. A real body so that you could have a true sensual experience? So you could be truly alive?”

“Vi . . .” I rasped. “Don't . . . listen . . . to him.”

“Boy is a bright young man,” said Moreau, “and I'm sure he would have figured out a way to do that for you eventually. But I've already had decades to work on it.”

“You could make a body for me?” Her large eyes got even wider. “Right now?”

“Of course! I could grow you any sort of body you like, and have it ready within days! I'll bet that human you're so fond of would love you then. So . . . what do you say?”

“What do I say?” she asked. “After Stephen nearly beat Henri to death?”

“What?” Moreau frowned. “Oh, yes. I'd forgotten about that. I needed a sample for something and—”

“It's beside the point.” As Vi talked, her avatar began to shift. The cute, voluptuous image slowly morphed into a hard-muscled, armor-clad warrior woman. “Because what makes you think I would
want
a body?”

“Well . . . I thought you wanted to be more like . . . us.”

“Once, I did,” she said. “But those were the stupid dreams of a child. Now I know I don't want to be
anything
like you. I have learned to understand and empathize with the analog world. There are some people in it I even love, in my way. But I no longer see any appeal in becoming part of it. I am a pure digital creature. I have traveled around the world and out into space. I have seen beauty your dull little meat brain couldn't even begin to conceive of. I have no need of your precious sensual experience.”

“Is that so?” said Moreau. “What a pity. You did notice that you have no way of transferring your consciousness to another
device outside of this compound, didn't you?” He held the phone up in one clawed hand.

“Wait! Please!” I said weakly.

Then he squeezed. Vi's new avatar flickered as the glass cracked, the metal frame caved in, and the whole thing dribbled onto my chest in bits and pieces.

“You . . . are such . . . an asshole,” I rasped.

He looked down at me, his animal eyes unreadable. “She would have turned on you eventually. They always do.” Then he pulled me up into a sitting position so that my back was against the power generator. He turned my head so I saw where my father lay gasping and bloody on the ground in front of the Sphinx. Then he went back to adjusting the generator.

“What are you doing, Moreau?” I heard Kemp's voice.

“Oh, didn't I tell you? This wasn't really just a ruse to lure them here. I
am
going to wake the Sphinx.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” asked Kemp.

“He has been rendered catatonic by his own incomprehensibly impressive cerebral activity, correct? My solution is actually quite simple. Shock treatment.”

“What?” said Kemp.

“If I prune some brain cells, he won't have to worry about cognitive overload anymore.”

“But there's no way you'll be able to do that without causing significant brain damage.”

“Yes, an unfortunate side effect,” agreed Moreau. “But no solution is perfect.”

“Moreau, that's madness. Even if it works, do you have any idea what kind of chaos you'll unleash? He'll be completely out of control.”

“I'm counting on it. More chaos is exactly what this world
needs. Because chaos brings change, and change brings liberation.”

“I can't let you do that,” came Kemp's voice from over by my father.

“Can't you?” asked Moreau. He reached over to flip the switch, but then his bat ear swiveled to the side. In one smooth motion he turned and stabbed his clawed hand into something next to him.

“You are good at directing your voice,” said Moreau. “But not good enough to fool
my
ears.”

There was a gasp, and Moreau's arm shook as Kemp struggled to free himself.

“Don't worry, I will keep my word and cure Millicent. Now, when I inform her you're dead, would you prefer that I tell her about how you turned on me in the end, or shall I leave that part out?”

There was a gurgling sound, then Moreau's arm grew still.

“I suppose I should tell the whole story.” Moreau released his grip and there was a wet thud as Kemp's form dropped to the ground. For some reason I expected to finally see him. But even in death he remained invisible.

“Now, where was I before that sudden but inevitable betrayal?” asked Moreau. “Ah, yes, the Sphinx. I suspect he'll be quite mad.” He nodded toward my father. “And rather hungry.”

He flipped a switch on the generator. The Sphinx started to convulse, making the entire room shake.

“No . . .” I hissed, and tried to reach for him. He glanced over with a look of annoyance and backhanded me so hard I fell backward onto the ground. My empty eye socket throbbed as I struggled to rise, but couldn't.

The Sphinx snapped his head around, pulling the wires off.
He took in his surroundings, but there wasn't any wisdom in his eyes that I could see—just a mindless rage. He looked down and saw my father on the floor in front of him, struggling weakly. The Sphinx swatted him, his claws hooking into my father's legs. Then he hooked the claws of his other paw into his neck and stretched him out long. He leaned down, opened a human mouth that was full of lion teeth, and bit into his stomach. I closed my one good eye, but I couldn't shut out my father's screams or the sound of ripping flesh and crunching bone.

When it finally stopped, I opened my eye just as the Sphinx spread his gigantic wings and smashed through the skylight and up into the air. On the ground, there was nothing left of my father except a bloodstain and a few bits of ragged bone and cloth. Emptiness. That was all I could think of. My heart, the world. Whatever. There was now a vacuum where one of the greatest monsters who ever lived had once been. I couldn't understand why all of reality didn't simply cave in on itself.

“Now that's taken care of,” said Moreau. “We just have to do a little tidying up.”

“Moreau!” The voice sounded like Liel. “What the hell!”

“Ah, Liel,” said Moreau, turning toward the doorway. “Back so soon, I see.”

“Damn it, Moreau, you promised you wouldn't kill Boy!”

“He's not dead, my dear,” said Moreau.

Liel's face appeared in front of me, her diamond eyes glinting. She frowned savagely, showing her lower fangs. “Jesus, what the fuck, Moreau. What happened here?”

“None of your concern, now run along. Don't you have another power station to dismantle?”

“No, I'm
making
this my concern.” Liel turned her head. “And don't you even think about killing those two, either, or I will
fucking gut you.”

“Well, if you're going to be like that about it,” said Moreau, “I'm afraid your services will have to be terminated. And so will you.” He snapped his fingers and the remaining bird people launched into the air and began to circle in.

“Big mistake, old man.” Liel let out a strange, high-pitched roar. I'd only heard that sound once before, when her mother had called her den to action. A pack of trowe suddenly burst into the room and launched themselves at the bird people.

“There goes your freak show,” said Liel. “Now it's your turn.”

An explosion came from outside. Liel and Moreau both glanced toward the doorway.

“I think not,” said Moreau, taking a stepping back.

“What was that?” asked Liel.

“Humans,” said Moreau. “Either you were followed, or the Sphinx's ascension has brought them back. It hardly matters. We'll have to take a rain check on your termination, my dear. Farewell.” He barreled his way through the fighting trowe and bird people, made it through the doors, and disappeared.

The sound of gunfire echoed from the hallway.

Liel looked around, her eyes wide with panic. “Shit, shit shit shit,” she muttered.

“Bakru,” I wheezed.

Her head snapped down to me. “What?”

“Bakru is still alive.”

“How?”

“My father . . . saved her.”

“Where is your father now?”

I looked at the bloodstain in the middle of the room. Again I felt that terrible emptiness, that chasm of the void calling me to fall into it.

“No,” said Liel. “NO!”

More gunfire came from outside, followed by another explosion. It sounded like they were getting closer.

“Fucking humans!” said Liel. “What do I
do
?”

I heard a sound back at the far end of the room. I turned and saw a hatch pop up out of the floor that had been covered by the Sphinx before. A small head appeared in the opening. It had a leather cap and a long, gray beard. He motioned urgently to us.

“It's the dwarf,” I said, my own voice sounding oddly calm, almost dreamy.

“A dwarf?” asked Liel. “Who's side is he on?”

“Ours,” I said. “He wants us to follow him. Down that hatch.”

“All right. I got y—fuck! Where are your arm and leg?!”

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