Any Cost, page 20
“Sunset?” Dominic guessed.
Micah frowned. “Eight PM.”
Dominic picked noon, sending the time to Micah as clearly as he could.
“Lunch,” Micah guessed.
Gestalt laughed. You see what I mean, he said, and Dominic had a sudden glimpse of home. Young daiyura reaching out in joy and excitement, proudly letting their first thoughts cross the spaces between themselves and their families, uncertain voices joining the choir that never stopped—
The homesickness hit him like a physical force, and Micah’s arms gripped him tight as the other man felt it as well. Gestalt’s face remained stoic, showing no sign that he knew what he’d shown them.
“Was that— Were they yours?” Dominic asked.
Gestalt frowned, searching for the meaning of the question. His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No. I don’t . . . My people . . . I don’t think another daiyura would . . .”
He stopped, frowning, then rose to his feet and crossed to the door of his room. He considered the Doorway for a moment, chewing absently on his lower lip. Then he reached out, laying his palms against the ruined wood, and the burned runes glowed momentarily blue.
“A daiyura is a mixing of spirits. It requires two complementary beings, gifted with traits that enhance and beautify the other. It is pointless to create, otherwise. The resultant child is . . . off-balance.”
The runes faded, leaving unblemished wood behind. Gestalt surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. He flexed his fingers absently.
“Out of all my people, there is a reason it was me who was closest to this plane.”
“You’re off-balance,” Micah said quietly.
Ges nodded. He kept his eyes on the doorway. “I don’t add to the harmony,” he agreed. “It’s why I was alone, watching the physical plane when the gateway opened. I was the closest to . . . to you.”
“Because we’re off-balance too,” Dominic said quietly.
Ges only smiled. Then he shook his head, dismissing the topic. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing can be done about it. I can’t understand you, and you can’t fix me. It was an experiment that failed. That’s all.”
“You don’t need fixing,” Dominic protested, but Ges waved him off, turning back to where the two humans were sitting.
“We need to work on your communication. We’ll start with places.”
By the time the humans got hungry enough to break for dinner, Micah and Dominic were both capable of sending static images. Micah had come up with the idea, sending Dominic an image of red clock numbers, glowing in the dark. Gestalt had scoffed at it, calling it a simplification bordering on cheating, but their accuracy had improved almost immediately.
The way they learned wasn’t like young daiyura. Human minds did not organize things the way daiyura minds did. They developed in isolation and, as such, lacked the universal syntax that formed in the minds of a collective.
They spoke to each other in broken, simplistic phrases. Gestalt would have abandoned the entire experiment in despair if it weren’t for the genuine mirth the humans shared when they realized they’d successfully communicated a thought. Periodically, they stumbled on something that made them collapse into laughter. Gestalt didn’t understand the references, but he felt the joy that came from them, and he laughed as well.
It wasn’t a harmony. Their triad did not make a choir. But as Gestalt listened to the two of them babbling to each other, he found he missed the song a little less.
It was getting dark by the time they stopped to eat. Gestalt watched silently as Dominic dressed and Micah moved to the kitchen to reheat something frozen.
Dominic saw him watching and turned with a grin. “See something you like?”
“Yes,” Gestalt answered simply. He could tell that Dominic was making a joke, but he couldn’t understand the meaning, so he answered honestly. “I’ve come to have a grudging admiration. I suspect it has something to do with the avatar’s reaction to intercourse.”
Dominic rolled his eyes, which Gestalt didn’t think was called for.
Dinner was frozen pizza, which Dominic insisted he try. Gestalt pretended to hate it, mostly in the hopes of not being pestered to try more things.
The two humans finished it off themselves, all the while making broken eye contact across the table and sending each other simplistic phrases and half-formed mental images.
Dominic tended to send jokes and sexual innuendos, refusing to take any of it too seriously. There was still a part of him that couldn’t accept the idea of sitting at his kitchen table and communicating telepathically with an angel he’d taken as a lover a few hours before. Gestalt suspected he’d come to terms with the idea eventually.
Micah stuck to facts. He tried to convey times, places, and faces. Concepts that would aid them in the coming fight. His mind was a practical counterweight to Dominic’s playfulness. Even still, Micah’s thoughts occasionally overflowed the boundaries of his own mind. An affection or appreciation so profound that the bond resonated with the praises he sang.
He caught it quickly when it happened, trying to stifle it. He retreated back behind his wall, hiding from the repercussions. His eyes would drop, and he would briefly fill with fear: That he was presumptuous, that his advances were unwanted. He worried his affection was inappropriate or unseemly, that he would displease the others.
When this happened, they would wait, sometimes reaching for his hands, sometimes letting the bond speak for them. They would wait until he let his barriers back down. It took time, but when they fell, he was always pleasantly surprised to find that he was, still, loved.
It wasn’t a harmony. Combined, their minds were chaotic and boisterous, nothing like the serene melodies of the daiyura.
Gestalt thought that maybe he understood it now. Why humans reached out when they received no response. How they lived and interacted in such silent isolation and still managed to care for each other. They were not expecting a complementing melody. Their affection was self-contained, existing entirely within themselves. They reached for each other in order to feel the light that bloomed within themselves.
Being loved in return inspired new joy, but it was not a requirement. Love existed with or without reciprocation.
Gestalt thought of the time he’d spent at home, alone and as quietly as possible, listening to the others and watching the earth. And he understood.
He missed the harmony, but he didn’t add to it.
He thought maybe he added to this.
After dinner, Dominic got the computer and found a map of Troy. Gestalt gave him Locke’s coordinates, and they ended up with a small red X in the middle of an otherwise featureless patch of woods.
“You’re sure that’s the place? There’s no way in or out.”
“That’s where Locke said it was,” Gestalt answered.
Micah took over the computer, switching it into satellite view. “It’s a private road,” he said, zooming in and pointing. “Look, it branches south off Route 12 near Arlington. It’s not named, but you can see where the path was cut through the trees.”
Ges looked at the image on the screen. Sure enough, a single lane traversed the woods, culminating in a parking lot.
“Does it look familiar?” Dominic asked.
Gestalt shook his head. “I don’t know. I had a hood on when they moved me outside. I only ever saw the inside of the complex. But it looks like it’s about the right size.”
“All right. For now, let’s assume this is our target.” Dominic glanced to Micah. “You’re our advance. If it’s the wrong place, you’ll let us know. If it’s the right place . . .”
“Then I get to the slave barracks,” Micah interjected, glossing easily over Dominic’s pause. “I tell them to head north. That’ll take them straight up to the main road.”
“Right. Once everything’s moving, we’ll put a call in to local authorities. Here and here.” Dominic gestured to the map, pointing to the two towns closest to the compound. “Plus Troy. The Hellfires have almost definitely got a couple cops in their pockets, but if we call into three different departments with news of a medium-scale rebellion? News will spread too fast to cover up.”
“Dominic and I will use the pandemonium to get inside, find you, and close the gate.”
“With Amanda and Ian covering us, if we can convince them to help,” Dominic concluded. “Speaking of which, I should call them. Should probably give Garrett a heads-up too. If this place is like the others, cleanup is gonna be a big pull on controllers. He might be able to consolidate some people for us.”
Dominic flipped his phone open, dialing as he stepped outside onto the darkened porch. Gestalt could hear the rumble of his voice as he greeted his friend.
Gestalt turned back to Micah. “You’re not nearly as confident as you’re pretending to be.”
Micah squared his shoulders. “I can do this.”
“I have every faith in you. But you’re frightened nonetheless.”
Micah let out a laugh. “Well, yeah. The whole plan is based on the hope that Slate will want the chance to torture me before he kills me. And waiting for him . . .” Micah’s face went momentarily blank. “I don’t have illusions that I’ll be treated kindly.”
Gestalt could see it in his mind, the grim determination and the fear. Micah was confident he could withstand whatever they planned to do to him. Gestalt could see the memories running through his head, the pain he had endured, the scars he’d been left with.
“You could walk away,” Gestalt said quietly. Micah glanced up, meeting his eyes. Gestalt kept going. “You stand to gain nothing from this. At its heart, this is my battle. Not yours.”
“I said I’d help,” Micah said, then hesitated, dropping his eyes again. His fingers twisted together, then released. He watched them, choosing his words. “Do you know why Slate got rid of me?” he asked after a while.
“No.”
“Because I was willful. I defied him and challenged his authority.”
Gestalt frowned. “You did everything you could to please your masters. I’ve seen memories of abuse that go on for years—”
“There was someone else,” Micah interrupted. “Another slave. They were hurting her and . . . and I told him to stop. I would have taken her place. Slate was furious. He took it out on both of us, and when he was done with my punishment, he sent me away.”
“Why didn’t he kill you?”
Micah smiled, letting out a breath. “I think he wanted me to die slow. A slave’s death. Run ragged at one of his work camps until I got sick or hurt or just . . . wore out. But I got lucky. Another slave sold me instead of taking me there. It was a long shot for her—not many people would gamble on a disgraced hospitality slave. But Dominic did.” He cast a fond look out the window, to where Dominic’s silhouette was visible against the darkening sky. “He believes there’s more to me than the things I fake to make my masters happy. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe I’m doing this because you need me. But maybe he’s right and I’m doing it because out there, they’re hurting somebody, and I’m still willing to trade places.”
Gestalt opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Dominic came back through the door, a wide grin on his face. “They need two days, but they’re in.”
Gestalt nodded. “Two days will give us time to work on communication.”
“Right. The other question is when to leave. The earlier we go, the more recon we get, but it also increases the risk of being noticed.”
“We wait,” Micah said instantly. “They hexed the house, which means they know our faces. The longer we stay there, the greater chance we have of being recognized. They might even be watching us.”
“So we wait,” Dominic agreed. “We can get the layout from Micah once he’s inside.”
Gestalt looked between the two humans. Both of them were ready to do this to help him, though it might get them killed, and they knew it. He was suddenly filled with gratitude, and they must have felt it through the bond. Micah looked down, while Dominic gave him a rakish smile.
“Who wants to get old, anyway?” he joked, and Gestalt saw a flash of two men, their hair streaked with gray, sitting beside a crackling campfire—
Dominic pulled back, looking away.
That night, Micah had a nightmare.
Gestalt saw it as it started, from his customary place by the stream. He watched the two humans and their nonsensical hallucinations, smiling to himself as they moved through their imaginary worlds.
And then Micah’s went dark, invaded by men with blank faces, men who held him down, hands around his throat—
Gestalt was on his feet, bolting for the house.
Micah whimpered in pain and fear, and Ges forced his way into the dream. He tried to take Micah away, to separate him from the faceless men, but it was like fighting smoke. Micah’s mind controlled this place; he couldn’t be saved from his own fear.
The door to the bedroom stood open, and Gestalt was inside in a second, gathering the human against him and shaking him awake. His wings encircled the trembling man, blocking out the world. The noise roused Dominic from sleep, but he only needed a moment’s connection to Micah to understand what had happened.
Micah quieted, letting Gestalt hold him inside the dark shell of the angel’s wings. Ges sent reassurances through the bond, telling them both that they were safe.
The humans eventually fell back asleep, but Gestalt didn’t leave. He stayed, watching over them, and there were no more dreams.
The drive north was tense, to say the least.
Amanda and Ian went up in their own cars, taking slightly different routes to try to assuage some of their shared paranoia. Gestalt, Micah, and Dominic headed up in Dominic’s car, and Micah could tell it was taking every ounce of Dominic’s self-control not to turn around.
“We’re not ready,” he said for the tenth time.
“We’re as ready as we’re going to be,” Micah answered back, for the tenth time. “Every day we delay, they’re building up resources too. And they can do it faster than we can. We can’t sit around waiting for them to hex the house again.”
Dominic looked to Micah, pain in his eyes. “I just wish it didn’t have to be you.”
“I know.” Micah straightened his shoulders, trying to look confident. “Anyway, Amanda says she’s pretty sure she has a spell that can cloak me. I’ve got a good thirty minutes before they can even see me. I’m pretty sure I can find the slave barracks in that time. If it’s anything like the last place, we’ll be dealing with about a hundred club members and a little under two hundred slaves. Not counting creatures. Two hundred slaves making a break for freedom is a hell of a diversion. More likely than not, they’ll never even see me.”
The optimism was a total lie. Micah knew it, and he knew the other two sensed the deception.
Outside the window, the landscape got darker. They drove on in silence.
The ragtag group rendezvoused in a park about a quarter of a mile from the club entrance. Amanda and Ian parked end-to-end, blocking Dominic’s car from sight. It was probably pointless; it was almost ten at night and far too dark to see anything from the road anyway.
Dominic began laying down a chalk circle for the concealment spell, but had to stop when Amanda pulled him up into a bear hug.
Micah barely had time to laugh at Dominic’s confusion before it became clear that he would not be spared a similar treatment.
“I’ve been so worried for you guys. Ever since I heard what happened with the hex bag, I’ve been expecting to hear you’ve been offed!”
“We’re fine, Amanda,” Dominic grumbled, but he was touched by the concern.
Micah smiled. “We’ve had a guardian angel,” he added, winking at Gestalt.
Gestalt stared blankly back.
“We’ll need a hell of a lot more than that to make this work,” Ian griped. “I’ve got a written explanation for all this laying on my desk back in Selina, in case I don’t come back, but still.” He tipped his head back, staring up into the darkness. “If the corruption goes as deep as you say it does, I don’t know if that’ll do any good.”
“Well,” Dominic mused, returning his flashlight to where he was still drawing the circle. “Before, you were trying to nail them on indent endangerment and the unauthorized slaughter of creatures. A couple dead free men would change the scope of the investigation.”
“I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ian said.
“You and me both,” Dominic said cheerily. “Micah, you’re up.”
Micah steeled himself and went to sit in the center of the circle. This was Amanda’s spell, not Dominic’s, so he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
As it turned out, her spellwork was based on crystals. Amanda had brought along a plastic toolbox filled with a dozen different crystalline minerals. She arranged these around the circle, occasionally pausing to step back and survey her work. She had just enough Sight to see how the crystals reverberated into the air around them.
After she’d gotten them how she wanted them, she went to the toolbox and returned with a small, circular gold cage on a long chain. This, she hung around Micah’s neck, adjusting the length of the chain until the cage rested above his belly button. Micah inspected it in the beam of his flashlight. There was a clear crystal inside, six-sided, pointed on both ends.
“It’s a Herkimer diamond,” Amanda explained. She’d moved back to the edges of the circle, and she was sliding a large, rough emerald along one inch at a time, pausing and then repositioning it again. “Your energy is centered in your second chakra, so that’s the best place to put it for this. Since it’s basically your life force that powers the spell.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ian asked.
“Nah,” Amanda answered, abandoning the emerald in favor of rotating a set of small rubies. “Human life force is basically endless. Unless you’re trading a huge chunk of it to some deity, most spells use so little it regenerates as you go.”
