Page 174
Story: The Mask Falling
“You are not escaping,” he said. “Not this time.”
He shoved me off, hard enough to jar my bad wrist, and then—suddenly, terribly—his hand swung up to strike me.
One of the first things Nick had taught me was how to duck a punch. Plenty of fists came at you in the syndicate, no matter who you were. Avoiding this one should have been second nature.
But in that moment, I just stood there, too stunned to move. Time seemed to slow. I came to the far-off realization that one solid blow from that fist would crumple my skull. He actually meant to kill me.
He had revered my body with those hands. Now they would break it.
Death never came. Just before Arcturus could land the blow, his eyes gave a livid flare, and he pulled his arm back, so hard it was as if it had been wrenched by a string, or a shield had flown up in front of me. Such was my shock, all I could do was stare at him in silence.
“No,” he said, after a long beat. He was still all over again, eyes flat. “Even with gloves, I will not dirty my hand.”
My knees shook. I was rooted to the spot. Arcturus Mesarthim, as I had known him, would never have raised a hand to a human. Not to me.
Not for anything.
New footsteps sounded on the marble. In a stupor, I turned to see the architect of all my suffering. Nashira Sargas, the Suzerain, her golden hair combed to a high shine.
She was flanked by Situla Mesarthim, who looked no worse for wear after the fire, and Graffias Sheratan, who I remembered from the first colony. The sight of Nashira filled me with dread in a way it never had before my torture. I was alone and virtually unarmed with three—four—enemy Rephaim.
My nerves hardened to steel. I was twofold. Paige Mahoney was in too much pain to breathe, but Black Moth had to stand and do her duty. She had to warn the syndicates of the betrayal.
It was my fault. Now I had to fix it.
Nashira joined Arcturus and laid a hand on his arm. The sight of it tore my guts out.
“He’s a flesh-traitor, Nashira.” Bitter hatred almost strangled me. “Why would you take him back?”
“Be assured, 40,” Nashira said to me, “that I will cleanse Arcturus of your influence. His flesh-treachery was for a cause, but he accepts that he will need to be punished for it. I will deliver.”
Hers was the voice that so often disturbed my sleep. I remembered the way she had looked at me in the Westminster Archon just before I escaped her. Hellfire in her eyes.
There was a draft in the room. The rear doors to the chapel stood ajar. I had to keep her talking.
“Can he not speak for himself ?” I asked.
“Arcturus isnothimself after months of your words in his ear.”
His dreamscape gave a strange vibration. I scrutinized his face, but his expression stayed the same.
“You escaped me in London,” Nashira stated. “I would have let you die there. It would have been excruciating—humiliating—but it would also have been over in one night. Now I think I will keep you alive for a little longer before I claim your spirit. Arcturus will need to wean himself from the flesh. And to feed. Perhaps you can continue to tend to his needs for a time.”
Disgust shivered through me. “I take back everything I ever said,” I told him. “Youarea coward. And a fucking hypocrite. You’re a monster.”
Still the same callous gaze.
“It is you who is monstrous, fleshworm,” he said. “You are an affront to the natural order.”
The Devil. I thought of the card Liss had shown me.They’ll make you think you’re tied to them forever.
We are bound together by a golden cord . . .
“Arcturus is no coward to commit flesh-treachery for the cause,” Nashira said. “He will tell me everything about the Mime Order and Le Nouveau Régime. And when they are driven into the open, your thieves will soon be trapped by their own citadel. Because now that I have you back . . . I also have Senshield.”
The implication sank in. All she needed to reactivate the scanners was the spirit of a dreamwalker.
“Fear not. I will ensure your people understand precisely how it happened,” Nashira continued, softer. “That their Underqueen invited a wolf into her flock. Into her bed.” She motioned to the other two Rephaim. “Take her to the Bonbec Tower, and tell the others to feed on her whenever they desire. Together, if they choose.”
He shoved me off, hard enough to jar my bad wrist, and then—suddenly, terribly—his hand swung up to strike me.
One of the first things Nick had taught me was how to duck a punch. Plenty of fists came at you in the syndicate, no matter who you were. Avoiding this one should have been second nature.
But in that moment, I just stood there, too stunned to move. Time seemed to slow. I came to the far-off realization that one solid blow from that fist would crumple my skull. He actually meant to kill me.
He had revered my body with those hands. Now they would break it.
Death never came. Just before Arcturus could land the blow, his eyes gave a livid flare, and he pulled his arm back, so hard it was as if it had been wrenched by a string, or a shield had flown up in front of me. Such was my shock, all I could do was stare at him in silence.
“No,” he said, after a long beat. He was still all over again, eyes flat. “Even with gloves, I will not dirty my hand.”
My knees shook. I was rooted to the spot. Arcturus Mesarthim, as I had known him, would never have raised a hand to a human. Not to me.
Not for anything.
New footsteps sounded on the marble. In a stupor, I turned to see the architect of all my suffering. Nashira Sargas, the Suzerain, her golden hair combed to a high shine.
She was flanked by Situla Mesarthim, who looked no worse for wear after the fire, and Graffias Sheratan, who I remembered from the first colony. The sight of Nashira filled me with dread in a way it never had before my torture. I was alone and virtually unarmed with three—four—enemy Rephaim.
My nerves hardened to steel. I was twofold. Paige Mahoney was in too much pain to breathe, but Black Moth had to stand and do her duty. She had to warn the syndicates of the betrayal.
It was my fault. Now I had to fix it.
Nashira joined Arcturus and laid a hand on his arm. The sight of it tore my guts out.
“He’s a flesh-traitor, Nashira.” Bitter hatred almost strangled me. “Why would you take him back?”
“Be assured, 40,” Nashira said to me, “that I will cleanse Arcturus of your influence. His flesh-treachery was for a cause, but he accepts that he will need to be punished for it. I will deliver.”
Hers was the voice that so often disturbed my sleep. I remembered the way she had looked at me in the Westminster Archon just before I escaped her. Hellfire in her eyes.
There was a draft in the room. The rear doors to the chapel stood ajar. I had to keep her talking.
“Can he not speak for himself ?” I asked.
“Arcturus isnothimself after months of your words in his ear.”
His dreamscape gave a strange vibration. I scrutinized his face, but his expression stayed the same.
“You escaped me in London,” Nashira stated. “I would have let you die there. It would have been excruciating—humiliating—but it would also have been over in one night. Now I think I will keep you alive for a little longer before I claim your spirit. Arcturus will need to wean himself from the flesh. And to feed. Perhaps you can continue to tend to his needs for a time.”
Disgust shivered through me. “I take back everything I ever said,” I told him. “Youarea coward. And a fucking hypocrite. You’re a monster.”
Still the same callous gaze.
“It is you who is monstrous, fleshworm,” he said. “You are an affront to the natural order.”
The Devil. I thought of the card Liss had shown me.They’ll make you think you’re tied to them forever.
We are bound together by a golden cord . . .
“Arcturus is no coward to commit flesh-treachery for the cause,” Nashira said. “He will tell me everything about the Mime Order and Le Nouveau Régime. And when they are driven into the open, your thieves will soon be trapped by their own citadel. Because now that I have you back . . . I also have Senshield.”
The implication sank in. All she needed to reactivate the scanners was the spirit of a dreamwalker.
“Fear not. I will ensure your people understand precisely how it happened,” Nashira continued, softer. “That their Underqueen invited a wolf into her flock. Into her bed.” She motioned to the other two Rephaim. “Take her to the Bonbec Tower, and tell the others to feed on her whenever they desire. Together, if they choose.”
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