She was delivered to the Nexus, that glowing edifice of milk-crystal, matched by six identical domes dotting the ceiling of this universe. It was such a small, dark, miserable place. And without dissembling with the previous statement at all, it was massive, glorious, and a wonderful place to be. It was the dishonest Gods and their terrible secrets that made it so bad…and that made it entirely horrible.

And yet here, on the doorstep to home—Em was already ahead of her, and she could see their multicolored riot of hair vanish inside the Nexus—she found herself reluctant to turn back. Because she knew as soon as she stepped over the threshold, her world, her life, her love, her marriage…it was all over.

So what? She thought, harshly. So what if it’s going to hurt when the wind blows in. Would you rather have never had an Alex at all? And here, the better, sharper question, Could you live with yourself if he got hurt again, lost more of himself, because of you?

She thought about Kaiser. He’d been watching them. Maybe, hopefully, out of ear shot but he’d still been watching Hawk and the Shadowmaster decide what to do with the remains of Kali’Mar. Ultimately, she’d put one half of his Orb in her pocket. He’d watched her. The Shadow claimed that only the rind, the pearlescent outer layers, that gave one the powers and abilities of an Archetype. She was pretty sure he’d told her the truth, if only because of his satisfaction when he burned Kali’Mar’s remains. Had he seen enough to guess the same?

Maybe a better question is…was that greed in his eyes when he looked at the Shadow? At the man with Alex’s face.

“Listen,” She said, as he gently set her down on the smooth crystal floor. “I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, but—”

“May we never meet again, Hawk-of-the-West.” And then he smiled, and it was Alex’s smile, though the Shadow’s teeth were sharper. “Do your people have legends? Folk heroes? Word of what you and I have done this day will spread, fast, as Kali’mar’s winds and other edifices collapse. They’ll call you Godslayer in those tales. Why, your name might live as long as Kali’Mar’s did.” This time he kissed her once, soft, on the forehead. “Be blessed, Hawk. As I am blessed for knowing you.”

And then he was gone.

***

One by one, each of Hawk’s friends, Kaiser, and Hawk herself climbed back inside the Nexus, into the cool, milk-crystal surfaces that muted light into a warm glow. She made it two steps inside before she dropped to her knees on the first sheet of plastic she saw. Plastic. So…normal. So clear. She could touch it, rub her fingers across it, feel the real-ness of it. It came from a world where such things were pedestrian and normal. Grounding, she thought, and if you’d told her several days ago that a piece of plastic could be grounding, she wouldn’t have believed it.

Em was the first to see her. The enby scientist grabbed a blanket and a medical kit, and walked over to Hawk. Wordlessly, Em handed her gauze and made her hold it to her forehead. Hawk was bleeding and hadn’t noticed. It dripped from abrasions on her forehead, from the corner of her mouth. “Hawk, what…where’s the Shadow? He said he was going to fetch you.”

And he’d probably used that many words, strange, abrasive creature that he was. She felt grief already swelling into her throat like some vile pregnancy…and that boomeranged to another thought, that she’d never had a child with Alex, and now never would, and the tears finally overflowed. She just sobbed, wordless, on Em’s arm.

Kaiser was, of course, right behind her. Shadow had brought him, too, of course. Because she’d asked. Her stupid, feckless, reckless altruism had insisted on it. Not even he deserved to be trapped in this Gods-eaten world. He’d heard everything, and watched Hawk’s collapse with visible disgust—even hatred—and no small amount of victory in his expression. He’d hurt her, maybe by accident, and now he could relish her sorrow.

“Hawk. Hawk. What happened? Honey, why are you crying. Is Alex…”

“Is alive. She’s being hysterical. Probably because she tangled with one of those other nutcases and had to be rescued. By that shadow-thing with Alex’s face, who promptly took off. Maybe she thinks she’s been dumped.”

His contempt was like being splashed with cool water. She stopped crying—it was hard, like sucking blood back up into a vein—and stood, glaring, though Em had her elbow and helped her up. She swallowed, and said, “Kali’Mar is dead. This is what’s left of him. We’re bringing it back for study.” She held up the smaller, crystal-clear core stuttered about with cracks. Light glinted through it as through a shattered marble.

“And who the blue fuck is Kali’Mar?” General Mulligan asked. Huh. He was down here, too. Interesting. Must have gotten sick of report after report of the insanity down here, and chose to come see for himself.

“His name was Michael Vernox. I guess he chose Kali’Mar because it sounded impressive.”

“Huh,” said Mulligan. “Cal-I-Mar, huh? Sounds like something from a cheesy space flick.”

“Probably where he got it from,” Hawk agreed. “All these Archetypes have chosen their own names. Kali’Mar was the worst of the bunch. But there’s three more superpowered Archetypes behind us. And they’re dangerous. Like…slaughter everyone in here just for the fun of bloodsplatter dangerous.”

Mulligan looked at her, then away. He gazed over his troops, the geode walls of the Nexus, at Kaiser, who looked remarkably well for someone abducted by a murderous god, and then at Hawk. And his eyes softened. “Your husband?”

And here it was. The time to build the lie. Moment by moment. Step by step. Word by word. She would build a wall between herself and the frail truth. It’d be easy. It’d be cutting her own heart out, a bit at a time, but that was okay, too. It was supposed to hurt when someone leaves. It meant you’d grown around them, become their support as they became yours. There would, from this moment on, be a gaping wound inside herself. She’d be cannibalizing her own spirit the way Nasheth and her demented posse had consumed Alex.

Maybe we don’t have to do this, she thought. Maybe I can go back, it’s not too late, go back and tell the Shadow the truth. And—

Kaiser stepped around her, yelling nonsense that made him seem more impressive than he already was, and that last gasp of hope died.

“He’s gone,” she told the general. “Naomi Studdard and her accomplices ate him.”

General Mulligan gave her a long, soft, slow nod, though he paused at her last word. “Ate?”

“She tried to convince me he was already dead.” Her voice sounded dead. It fell flat and prone upon the sharp crystals. “But you don’t try that hard to sell the truth.”

Mulligan was dead still. “Excuse me? You think Naomi Studdard ate your husband. Alive?”

“She was burning people alive down there. It’s not a far jump from that to eating them.”

General Mulligan nodded once more. “Naomi…and her accomplices, you said.”

“Yes. I know of three. Tiffany Banks, Vernox, and Arthur Anderson. Vernox is dead. That just leaves Naomi, Tiffany, and Arthur.” Hawk said.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” The General said. “I think you’re leaving out one. See, as I understand it, Doc, you’ve been kept on your toes since Boston fell in. Understandable. You want to live, they’re all promising you excellent ways to die. But for that woman to pull this off, she had help from more than a receptionist and a couple teachers.” And he turned expectantly to Kaiser. “Someone like you, sir.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Me? Do I look divine to you?” Kaiser said, smiling.

“I’ve been asking myself questions ever since you went down there. I’ve been asking myself so many questions that I came down here to try and get some more thinking time. And you know what? I came up with a lot more questions. Like…how did Naomi Studdard actually get a giant prism greenhouse? Thing was built fresh this last summer, wasn’t it?” The general paused. “On your dime, no less?”

“I didn’t know what she intended to build,” Kaiser said. He had edged a bit deeper into the Nexus now, and was standing nearer to the General’s position. Now he took a half-step back, just enough time for him to remember backing down as a sign of weakness. “She was distraught. She’d just lost her husband—”

“And the first thing she does is build a replica of the thing that killed him?” The General said. “No, Willheim. I don’t buy it. Same as how I do not buy that you didn’t know what the Studdards intended this school to become. Your rubber stamp is on that, too. On their little eugenics experiment.”

“I had no intention of causing this,” and he gestured around himself.

“Didn’t you?” and the General faced Kaiser on square. It was the nearest thing to an equal fight Hawk could imagine, and even now she knew Kaiser was several heads of authority above the General. But she thought she smelled fear. This standoff continued for minute after minute. Then the General said, “Fortunately, I don’t have to prove intent. Just collusion. There’s charges in the legal code I can sic on you. And I am going to.” And he gestured to a trio of soldiers who’d been standing off to one side. They had MP on their helmets and on bands around their arms. “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind.”

The tallest of the three advanced on Kaiser. “Sir, you are under arrest.”

Kaiser looked genuinely shocked. “Under arrest? For what?”

“Let’s start with six hundred counts of kidnapping, six hundred counts of manslaughter, theft, conspiracy to commit battery, conspiracy to commit murder, and that’s just what I can think up off the top of my head.” Mulligan said. “I’m sure once I debrief Drs West, Yong, and Dyson, I’ll have more to throw at you. Plus that gives a lot of people probable cause to investigate your books. But hey, other than a little mark-to-market fudging, I’m sure yours are daisy clean, aren’t they?” The general smirked, as if he knew something. “Go ahead boys. Cuff the bastard.”

One of the MP’s reached out and snapped part of a pair of cuffs on Kaiser’s wrist. And Hawk was suddenly in a grief-loaded cloud of bliss. Because the Lion of Industry was going to win his own cage, after all. The idol that was Kaiser Willheim was not falling, but was it wobbling, ever so slightly? Hawk thought so. Oh yes, she did.

“I didn’t do any of that,” Kaiser said.

“Really,” the General said, and nodded once more at the MPs. “That’s for a jury to decide, my man.”

They started trying to swing Kaiser around to put the other cuff on him. And Kaiser’s eyes narrowed. He looked around the Geode cavern for a minute, around the Nexus, and then his shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he said. “But I won’t go handcuffed. I won’t give the press that sort of ammo against me.”

Mulligan thought about it for a moment, then gestured towards the MP. “Take the cuffs off. We can do this his way. He’ll be in jail regardless.”

This got a smug smile out of Kaiser. “I’ll be out inside of two hours. They’re not going to hold a billionaire without bail.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Mulligan said, and gestured for the MPs to go. “And by the way, Mr. Willheim, we’ve already told the press that your company is responsible for this. Have fun with the spin.”

But Hawk was watching his hands. The moment he was uncuffed, he let them drop, gently, to his side…but one hand went into his pocket. Now his hands were cupped as if holding something, concealing it. He went along with the military police easy enough, but there was a tension, a tightness to him that bothered Hawk. He was coiled tight as a spring, and—

--Em and Henry Dyson were standing near him, and near each other. Their hands were clasped together, and Dyson especially had a dumb look on his face, the expression of the love-struck human male. He kept that expression when Kaiser suddenly wheeled around. Something in his hand flashed once, just once, and then he struck Henry in the chest.

Blood spurted from between Kaiser’s fingers immediately, and then he was shoved aside by MPs on automatic. They went to Henry just as Kaiser wrenched his concealed sharp out of Henry’s chest. It looked like a scalpel, but there was blood up several inches of shaft. She thought, It didn’t reach his heart. It couldn’t.

But Kaiser was moving, and now Hawk was moving with him. She followed him from across the Geode, slipping and sliding on the sheets of plastic and crystal shafts around her. She was slow. Too slow. He reached Mattias, the Archon of Light, well before Hawk did.

This time she saw the needle before he used it. He stabbed a syringe against Mattias’s shoulder and pressed down on one end. Mattias gave a great cry and his hands flew up to the side of his head. “Ay-yaiii!” he cried, and fell on unprotected Crystal. Hawk had to bypass her plan of throwing Kaiser into the stuff to rescue Mattias, who had now begun to seize—

Across the room, Henry Dyson was shuddering in the arms of Emile, blood leaking out of his chest with every further heartbeat. He made a terrible sound, and Hawk thought Death Rattle in the instant before he went still—

Kaiser was on the rope ladder going up. He paused, nearly at the point where time expanded outward, hours down here mere minutes up there—mere seconds, really—and turned back to the tablieu. Henry, gasping in Emile’s arms. Mattias, seizing in Hawk’s. She saw the moment he registered her gaze. He gave her a small, mocking salute, and then he was gone. She could see his looming shape as time slowed, but he might as well have been on the moon.

She held Mattias as he shook, doing her best to shield him from the razor sharp crystals. He continued to cry out, mostly in the unknown Holian language, and more than once his hands skirted across sharp points, and blood spilled. Cushioned his head from battering itself to bits on the nearest spire. Watched as the seizure intensified in waves.

But the sounds she heard from across the way were worse. She heard Em’s shouts suddenly hit a different pitch, a kind of hitching sob that turned them into screams. No, no, no, no, no! she was screaming. And Hawk knew. She knew before their efforts stopped, before the chest compressions—blood splattering everywhere with each push down, spurting out of the hole in his chest—came to an abrupt and final stop. She knew the sound Em was making; she’d made it herself when Alex was gone.

Mattias was starting to still, the seizure ebbing like water out of a glass. She still couldn’t leave and go to her friends’ sides, to hold Emile and find some herculean effort that would erase Henry’s stab wound—and why was it that now, and only now, did Hawk feel so comfortable calling him by name?—and make everything okay again.

But why did he inject Mattias with something? The Archon never did anything to him. Hawk was finally attended by a soldier. “He’s having a seizure. I think he’s coming out of it…can you help me get him to a better surface?”

Together, they hauled Mattias’s shuddering body into a modified fireman’s carry, and he was brought over to…to…

To the body. Henry Dyson couldn’t have been anything else. His body was still and pale, save for the wash of blood across his chest, a few drops of splatter on his cheeks. The plastic beneath him was a pool of unyielding red. It ran in carmine trails, scarlet rivulets. It dripped off the plastic onto the milk-quartz below. His eyes were slightly open. They had torn his shirt open to gain access to the wound, but even Hawk could see all the access in the world couldn’t have helped. The wound was over his heart.

“No!” Em wailed. “Not now. Not when I finally—” and they looked stricken. As if they had realized the substance of what they had lost.

Hawk reached with trembling fingers for Henry’s jugular. It lay quiescent under her fingertips. No pulse. No breath. Nothing but still flesh and cooling blood.

“I love you,” Emile whispered. “Oh, God, Henry. I love you.”

Captain Spectre rose, slowly. His arms were red to the elbow, his face dotted, his clothing destroyed. “He’s gone, sir.”

Emile wailed. They couldn’t stop it. And Hawk could only reach for them, hold them close, bury her own face in that riotous rainbow colored hair, and let them sob. Loss, hot and raw, burned molten against her skin.

“Well, there you go,” The General said. “We all witnessed it. Kaiser Willheim murdered that young man.”

“Damn near killed the old one, too…sir, sir, no, hold on!” Spectre turned his attention to Mattias, who was hesitantly starting to rise. But there was something wrong with how he moved. A stutter jerk here, a fumbling there.

“I’m alright, boy. I’m alright.” Mattias said.

“No. You had a seizure, sir. You aren’t alright.”

“I’m…” and he trailed off, peering up at the ceiling. “Oh. That’s what it is.”

Hawk looked up. Kaiser hadn’t even left the top of the ladder yet. “He’s still there, General.” She said. “He hasn’t even had enough time to walk away.”

“Captain,” the General said after a moment. “Please get your ass up that ladder and arrest that man for the murder of Henry Dyson.”

“You may not want to do that,” Mattias said. He was sitting up, drinking water someone had gotten for him.

“Why not?”

“Because he isn’t dead,” Mattias said.

Em stood up, ripping themself out of Hawk’s arms. “The fuck you say? You demented fake pope. Do you not see his body? He’s lying right there!”

“Yes. The body is there,” Mattias said, sounding very contemplative. “But the mind of Henry Dyson isn’t gone. Somehow…” He trailed off again, his eyes growing wider, wilder as time passed by. “His mind is inside of me.”