Nemesis: Book Six (10 page)

He saw his body, looking on it with a sense of longing and detachment. It wasn't his body anymore. It had been, once, but now … it was as much Briten's as his. More, perhaps, because he could never return to it.

His body was a distorted giant. The eyes bulged at the sockets, wanting to explode and fall down his cheeks, bloody flesh strings keeping them from tumbling to the floor. His skull had expanded, and Michael figured that meant his brain as well.

His hands looked like catcher's mitts. Huge things with fingers nearly the size of pickles. His shirt had split during Will's attack, breaking at both shoulders, as well as ripping down the back. Michael didn't know the muscles lying beneath the tattered clothing. Muscles from someone else, not from him.

His body, what had once been his body at least, would never be his again.

And now he sat inside Bryan's head, looking out at hands he couldn't control.

Tell him it's okay
, Michael said.

Bryan stopped tying the rope and looked up at Wren. His father was working, the same as Will and Bryan, but with tears flowing down his face. He made no attempt to hide them or wipe them away. He cried while he worked, looking down at Michael's mutilated body.

"Wren," Bryan said. "Michael says it's going to be okay."

Wren's hands stopped moving and he stared at Bryan with a look that Michael couldn't read. He didn't know his father well enough to understand these new emotions. He honed his attention over a decade to know signs of Wren's anger, wrath even. What he saw now, it wasn't wrath. A deep sadness sure, but something else too. Something that was directed toward Bryan, at least that's what Michael thought. He didn't like the look, didn't necessarily trust it.

"Is it?" Wren said.

Tell him it will be. Tell him we'll make sure it's okay.

"He says yes, that we'll make sure it is."

Wren swallowed, his red eyes far too close to Briten's for Michael's liking.

"Keep working," Will said, his own hands not stopping their movement.

Michael remembered him well. Remembered being trapped in a room with two of this man's lackeys, remembered pummeling one to death with a goddamn shower curtain rod. He was back, but then they all were, weren't they? Everyone but Thera and Julie. Except now they were all on the same side, apparently.

Which Michael didn't believe. He knew the man leading this job—perhaps as well as he knew his own father. The man was a killer, more so than Briten, he thought. Briten understood love. He wanted to help others, or Morena, at least. This man? Michael didn't know what drove him, but he knew what made up that drive—ruthlessness of the purest kind.

And, yet, no one had much of a choice right now. They had to help, because it made sense, what he asked of them. His plan was the only plan that existed.

* * *

R
igley sat
in the corner of the living room, which is exactly where Will wanted her. He still didn't want to hurt her, but was thinking that he would have to sooner or later. At the very least, she needed to be unconscious, because when that green bitch showed back up, there could be no fuck-ups. Already Will put the chances of this succeeding at less than ten percent. If Rigley lost her mind when the action commenced, that number would plummet near zero.

The other two were working fine, except for the kid's attempt at consoling Wren. No doubt, the way the kid spoke was weird—because it wasn't the kid's ideas moving from his mouth, but Michael's.

They were halfway done. The only problem was that Will didn't know when the hell she might show up. It could be in the next five minutes, it could be never if she decided the base needed to move out west. Either way, the group here had to continue working, had to be prepared in case she did come back in five minutes.

Will wouldn't lie to himself though; if she showed up now all of them were dead.

Then work,
he thought, refocusing on the knots his hands tied.

Will went back at it, his hands picking up speed.

He'd been at this job for a long time. Thirty years. He'd never done what he was about to do. Like Patton said in World War II, he never held a position. He was always advancing. Except for now.

Now, he was about to start a hostage negotiation.

T
he wind moved quickly
through the helicopter, creating a chill that Knox's fatigues couldn't completely block. He'd experienced it before, though he doubted he ever would again.

Marks sat next to him, showing complete indifference to Knox and the wind. Two hours passed as they flew along without either saying a word. Knox knew they were close to the drop off point, and he wanted to say a few words to Marks.

He had some things he wanted the genius to know.

"If you don't listen to everything I say, every goddamn last word, Marks, I'm going to kill you."

"Yeah?" Marks said, not looking over him. "Seems like an awfully big risk to take."

Knox nodded. "You're right, actually. There are worse things than death, though, Marks. Like living without a dick. I don't know if you've ever used that thing between your legs, or if you ever plan on using it; hell, you might be asexual for all I know, but if you deviate one step from my directions, I'm going to shoot it off. Hopefully I get your testicles in the process, too. Then you can live the rest of your life as a eunuch and I don't have to take such an awfully big risk."

Marks laughed. A hearty one that came from deep inside.

"Why do you insist that we're playing for different teams, here? Because Will said so back in the cage? What makes you think that I wasn't just fucking with him? The cage was boring, Knox. Real boring, especially for someone like me. So I used him for a little fun. It's not that big of a deal."

"We're not on the same team. You have no team, Marks. No allegiance outside of yourself. You're coming down here somehow thinking that you're going to be able to trick the creature into taking you in as an equal. I don't know how the hell you plan to do it, but if it in any way interferes with what I've been sent to do, you're going to walk around dickless. I want you to understand that."

"General, I appreciate your candor. Truly, I do. It's refreshing in the current world we live in. However, there are a few things I'd like you to understand, the first being, I'm on your side. Would I like to talk with the alien? Sure, but that's only out of intellectual curiosity. Do you truly believe I'm willing to sacrifice the world in some kind of attempt to
become
her?"

Marks looked at him now, his eyes showing no hint of humor from moments earlier.

"That's insanity, General. Pure and simple. I'm a lot of things, but insane isn't one. I'm no Hannibal Lecter, wanting to eat my victims like a delicacy. The second thing is, to be completely honest, I have some sins to atone for. Will is one of them. I shouldn't have sent him in there like that, shouldn't have put him in that kind of risk. So coming down here may give me a chance to do that."

All of it was total bullshit. Yet, even so, he sounded so honest right now. Knox knew the man sitting next to him wasn't insane, but only because he didn't fit onto any scale humanity had created. He was beyond the measurements of society, but that didn't exclude him from being dangerous. He might sound honest, but Knox had seen enough to know he was a venus fly trap giving off a pleasant odor, waiting on victims to show up.

"You don't expect me to believe any of this, right?"

"No, I suppose not. However, I just wanted you to know that you don't have to worry about shooting my genitalia off. It's not even a possibility."

Knox leaned back in his chair, breaking eye contact.

He said what he wanted and anything else Marks spoke would only be to confuse him, to cloud his purpose and make him doubt his own decisions.

"How long until your disease reaches ground zero?"

"Maybe ten hours," Marks said.

"How long until we're in Grayson?" Knox shouted to the pilot.

"An hour!" the pilot shouted back over the wind.

Will needed help. If they went to the core, they would stand there and wait nine hours, while Will did his best to fight off whatever came at him.

Knox pulled out a small notepad from his pocket and scribbled down a few numbers.

"Take us to these coordinates," he said.

H
e never wanted
to see this. Truthfully, Briten never thought he would.

His father lay on his bed, his eyes closed.

Briten had seen death before. Briten caused death before. He watched his brother tortured until nothing was left of him. None of that, though, prepared him for this.

His father was dying, right here, right now.

In front of him.

Briten looked at the deep red which had hung over his own life as a protective sword, but double edged, because a strand of fear ran through that red as well. His father was a ruthless leader, a necessity on Lornarus. Ruthless with his children as well.

And now, the deep red was a shade of pink. Disappearing by the minute.

No one else stood in the room with Briten. The longest serving ruler of Lornarus would die with only one witness. That's how he wanted it, what he asked to happen. Briten had left the planet months ago, and in the end his father sent word for him to return and stay until he passed from this universe.

He stood here for the past few hours, saying nothing, just watching the red fade more and more. The fading was speeding up now, and Briten knew the time was close.

"Father," he said, without any clue as to whether Obscur could hear him.

Yet, his eyes opened, immediately, and he stared upward at the ceiling. Slowly Obscur looked toward him, and their eyes locked.

"You're here," Obscur said.

Briten nodded, feeling his aura wrap around his own body.

"This is what the end looks like, yes?" Obscur said. "Everything I am, fading from existence."

Briten said nothing. He didn't know what to say, unless to confirm what his father already understood.

"Have you heard who will replace me?"

Briten shook his head.

The old Lorn laughed, a small thing. "Tharos."

Briten needed say nothing; the laugh said everything. His father thought the Lorn weak, not worthy to carry the mantle that he carried for so long. Briten didn't sense any anger, though, only a wry sense of humor at the choice.

"It's better than war, though," Obscur said. "At least there's that, no Civil War."

Briten was lost. His father speaking as if they discussed some joke at Court and that he wouldn't die momentarily. The largest thing in Briten's life, the largest thing he had ever seen, nearly a shade.

"I'm sorry," Briten said.

Obscur nodded slightly.

"How is it over there?" his father asked. "How is she? Worth it?"

"Yes," Briten whispered.

"I didn't want anyone else in here. All my advisors and
friends
." He laughed again. "Do you think I'll see your brother wherever I'm going?"

"I don't know."

"I hope so. I sent a lot of beings to this next stage; I wonder if I'll meet them all again. I wonder if they've been waiting on me. If so, it won't be a pleasant place."

Briten took a step forward and placed his hand on his father's chest.

They looked at each other again.

"Do you want to watch this?" Obscur asked.

No, of course he didn't. He wanted nothing to do with the death of his father, the greatest leader Lorn ever knew. And yet, who would stand watch besides him? His father allowed no one else in, only his son that abandoned him and his planet.

Briten nodded.

"Stay with me then. Help me get to the other side."

His father reached up and placed his hand over Briten's. Obscur closed his eyes.

In the end, Briten realized, even the deepest red turned black.

* * *

B
riten was gone
.

Morena knew he would return, most likely changed in some way—she only hoped it would be small. To watch his father die … it would be nearly impossible not to change.

He had been with her for the past six months, though no one else knew it. Not even Helos. Her mother would never keep such a thing from The Council, and Morena hadn't been completely ready to alert them to her decision. She kept putting it off, despite Helos saying they needed to act.

Morena couldn't put it off any longer, though. She knew that. While Briten was away, sending his father on, she would make way for him when he returned as her husband.

She looked at her reflection in the screen.

Strong. Prepared. She saw no weakness, no doubt, though the currents for both ran strong underneath her appearance.

That didn't matter, as long as what she projected looked like this. Her mother would be there as well, though that didn't matter much either. What mattered was what she said, what The Council said.

Morena turned from the screen and looked at her Assistant.

"Let's go," she said.

* * *

I
n all her training
, Morena never saw The Council's Chambers. Only the Var, The Council, and invited guests were allowed inside. Morena had no reason to be here before, no business to attend to with The Council. That was her mother's job.

Until now.

A stark, undecorated place.

No pictures, no art, only rock lining everything from floor to ceiling.

She stood beneath The Council, who—when they entered—would sit high above, looking down on her. A not too subtle message.

Helos stood to Morena's left, slightly behind her. Another not too subtle message.

Morena turned slightly around. "How late are they normally?"

Her mother smiled and at the same time her aura whipped forward, slapping Morena's hand. "Hush, girl. Do not disrespect them in their own house."

Morena looked down, smiling too. She turned forward, feeling Helos' aura release her wrist.

Minutes passed, and finally, The Council arrived. They came from behind their chairs, walking out in a line, their auras looking nothing short of magnificent against the gray stone backdrop. Morena felt her heart speed up, spreading nervousness throughout her body.

These Bynums were old, powerful. They didn't love her like her mother, wouldn't accept her decision. What would be their rebuttal? What would they do when she refused to yield? Strip her of her birthright? Call her a traitor and have her condemned? Would her mother let it happen?

Calm yourself
.

The words came from a deep well. They felt like cold water, splashing across her entire aura, silencing her mind's chatter.

You will be Var soon. A Var does not concern herself with anything other than the welfare of her people. Do you deserve to be Var? Is there anyone else that should be Var besides you? Because if not, then this concerns your people, and you must lead them.

She watched as The Council took their seats.

Chilras was a young Speaker. Older than Morena, but still young for the role she held. Her father had been on The Council, passing it down to her the same as Helos would pass Morena's title.

"Hello, Morena," she said. "How are you today?"

They will be friendly at first
, her mother had said.
They'll follow protocol until you tell them, and then the friendliness dies. If you're serious about this, be prepared, and go forth knowing.

"I'm well, Yorn. And yourself? The Council?"

"All of us are fine," Chilras said. "As I'm sure you're extremely busy, let us move forward. Why have you called this meeting?"

Last chance to change her mind. She could contact Briten and tell him not to return, tell him to stay on his planet and rule there. She could do what was expected of her, but not after she said the next few words—

Stop
, the well spoke again.
Do as you've planned and don't doubt.

"I have come to declare my marriage."

Chilras nodded, clearly knowing that a meeting didn't need to be called for that. Who the Var married was her choice, and as long as the marriage didn't interfere with her duties, The Council needn't be involved.

"He is, or was, the future ruler of Lornarus. Briten."

Silence shouted back at her with the heat of a thousand stars. No one moved. No one spoke a single word, and if they breathed, then it was as silent as the oldest crypt.

"He will arrive next week," Morena said.

A minute passed in that same deafening silence.

"What is it that you think we will say?" Chilras asked. Her words echoed off the walls like a call from The Makers. Morena felt her mind picking up speed, the doubts rushing through her like a windstorm. Tossing her confidence, her love, all of it as if no more than leaves.

And then she saw Briten amongst it all, the turmoil inside. He had already made his decision. He couldn't go back. She invited him here, to live with her and marry. She couldn't turn him away. Wouldn't. The only question remaining was whether or not she would retain the title of Var.

And, perhaps, in that moment—where the question crystallized in her mind of what she would be, where she would take her life—she started becoming the Var of her future.

For the last time in front of The Council, she silenced her roaring mind.

"I do not think you need say anything, Yorn. I came here to make you all aware. No other reason."

She looked into the eyes of the group staring at her, judging her. The thoughts going through their minds readily apparent in their auras. She was not yet a Var, should not truly be inside this Chamber, and yet she came to them with directives.
Making them aware
.

"Helos, do you have anything to say?"

Morena didn't glance back at her mother.

"Yorn, she has no words in this either. It is my decision, and as there isn't anything prohibiting it, I did this as a courtesy. Do you have anything that you'd like to say to
me
?"

Chilras looked across the group, but their mouths remained closed, even though their auras danced with anger.

"No," she said.

They stood as a group and exited the Chamber.

Morena didn't move, standing alone, her mother still behind her. And yet, Morena had always felt her mother's protecting hand over her, but for the first time, despite her mother's proximity, she didn't. For the first time, Morena stood on her own.