Chapter 29: A Glimpse of Reality

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Before the Archive, it was the memory of my sister that kept me whole. I managed to hold myself together because I knew that if I came apart, there would be no one left to remember her. No one left to search for her. I let spite fill in the rest: the memories of the men who invaded our country, killing and raping. Of the one who gave her that terrible disease, who left her in so much pain she took the only escape she could find.

I told her that I would save her. I promised her that I wouldn’t let her die. I couldn’t keep that promise, so I made a new one: I would never let her languish in purgatory, no matter what those pious priests claimed. They could never understand her torment. While I lived, I searched for answers anywhere I could find. And when I died, I continued my search with relish. I wandered the Aether, stitching and restitching myself, gluing the pieces of me with my love for her.

At first, at least. That was what I used at first.

It wasn’t enough. I was deteriorating, and I had to find a new source to draw from over time. Rage was a deep well within me. I pinned the face of my sister’s tormentor to a wall in my mind. I killed him once already, of course. Eventually. I hung for it, too. Even so, my appetite for vengeance was never truly sated. His death was too easy compared to what he did to her. So I remembered him. I remembered the pain he caused, the tragedy he wrought, and I let that anger fuel me forward.

Sometimes I wonder if that is why, when the Seer eventually summoned me from the Aether, it was into an incubus. Into the shape of a defiler.

She made promises to me. She told me if I did not fight her, she could tether me to this plane. So long as that tether remained — so long as the grimoire was not destroyed — my spirit would continue to exist. I would not be obliterated in the chaos that exists beyond the veil. I knew I would not last forever on my own. I knew that without something to hold me together, I would eventually disappear. All hope for finding Elan would vanish with me.

I do not remember the seer, but I do remember the pain of being tethered. I remember the agony of being molded for the first time. The shaper’s work was like being fitted through the wrong hole. Even so, in spite of my many torments over the years, I have never regretted my decision. I have been able to persist, and in that persistence, I have drawn ever closer to setting Elan free.

I have not regretted it, at least, until this moment.

The man calls himself Salazar — only Salazar, confirming my suspicions about his parentage. No doubt he’s protecting his True Name from wide circulation. Usually those who spend their mortality within these halls are only tethered if they commit some sin, but there are exceptions. Grudges are not forgotten after death in an organization that spends its time reaching into the afterlife.

“I confess, I was worried you wouldn’t make the right choice.”

I peer out from the binding circle where I’ve been confined. He’s transferred me to a room inside the mansion, one underground and absent windows. Salazar holds my grimoire in his hands, rifling through the pages as he continues speaking. “I thought you would run. Avidia was rather worried about it, in fact. I suspect that’s why she volunteered to go after you.” He turns his gaze to me. “I think she’s grown attached to you over the years.”

I do not reply. I continue to watch him, silently seething, testing the boundaries of the binding spell around me.

“I don’t know that you would have cooperated without her encouragement.” He places a hand on the book’s cover as he slips it closed. Behind him, Mr. Darcy paces back and forth, temporarily mollified by his presence. Salazar is an established member of the Archive, and the creature’s compulsion to attack has been waylaid.

Unfortunate, that.

“But you’ve tried to run before, haven’t you? More than once, by our records. And we’ve tracked you down, each and every time. Do you know why?”

I assume he will say something biting. An insult that will roll off of my shoulders like a breeze across water.

“Because you have so much potential, William Doherty,” he murmurs. I despise the sound of my name on his lips. He crouches down, studying me where I sit. I’ve crossed my legs, my hands cupped around my knees, my expression impassive. “Spirits of your caliber are so terribly rare. We’ve kept up our side of the bargain, haven’t we? You persist, after millennia, you persist. And yet you struggle against us, each and every time. Does that seem fair to you?”

I do not answer. I can feel Dorothy stirring beneath my skin, slithering through my mind. She finds this encounter amusing. She watches through my eyes, observing this man. Weighing him. The growing tangibility of her reminds me of when we were still bonded together. When I could feel her at the other end of my leash — tugging. Always tugging. Choking me.

No more, I think. I killed you. You control me no more.

Laughter is her only answer.

“People have considered eliminating you, you realize. Many times. Your record is rife with such deliberations. You’ve come close — so terribly close. If you weren’t able to hold so many aspects at a time, if you weren’t such a valuable asset, you would have unwound in the Aether a long time ago.”

He pauses, studying me. He can no doubt smell the stench of sulfur wafting off of me, of burnt flesh. He didn’t need to heat up the branding iron to wound me: the sign of the cross is a bane to both vampires and incubi, and the cool metal seared into my flesh as sure as any fire.

I suspect his torture is more than just malicious. He can likely feel me testing the strength of the barrier between us. Each touch of the iron drains a little of my power as my flesh works to knit itself. I have not attempted to pierce the spell since the last branding.

“Avidia says your future is difficult to see. But the girl you’ve been traveling with — yes. She would be a great benefit to the Archive. What’s more, we’re quite certain she could actually control you, given the proper training.” He smiles at me, the expression thin. “What a potent pair you would make. Invaluable in our fight to maintain the veil.”

"I doubt you'll make a good enough first impression to recruit her," I say, my voice dry.

It’s the first I’ve spoken since he brought me to this place. His expression actually brightens, giving his features warmth. “Ah! He’s found his tongue at last!”

“Lydia Grace doesn't strike me as the sort of person the Archive typically employs."

“No?” There’s an undercurrent of something in his voice. As if he’s chewing on a secret, waiting for the right time to draw it out. “What makes you say that?”

“She has rather...modern sensibilities," I say, carefully neutral. "And friends. Many. Even if she is a powerful Shaper, you'd have a hard time convincing her to join you, and an even harder time making her disappear."

Part of it is a lie. I don't know that Lydia would have anyone to come looking for her, not for certain. But I want to put the weed of doubt in his head.

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Salazar says nothing. He only smiles at me, then draws forth a small, cloudy sphere from his pocket.

I recognize it immediately. It is a Glimpse, a captured moment of something that happened in the Aether. Powerful seers are able to create them given enough energy. They are costly things, only asked for when something of particular importance is observed in the Aether.

Without fanfare, he tosses it into the air between us. It begins to spin, and from its motion, wisps of white descend to the ground. Slowly they coalesce into an image, then a scene. I see Lydia’s distinct features in that cloud of white, sinking down, down, down. Her face is contorted in fear and pain. A ripple of rage moves through me. Surely this is not happening now? They would not torture her, not when they wish to convince her to join them. Even with the bond blotted, I would feel it if she were in trouble.

If they are harming her, I will burst from this prison and find her. Consequences be damned.

“You encountered the creature that was chasing her in the Aether,” Salazar says calmly. “We’ve been tracking your movements carefully. We suspect it is some kind of Aberration, though we don’t yet know its origin. From what we can tell, it’s not strong enough to manifest outside the veil on its own power.”

He pauses, and that moment of silence is weighty. Then he adds: “But if it had consumed her, we’re certain it would have broken through.”

In the wake of his words, the image begins to move.

I watch Lydia as she is dragged down, deeper and deeper. I can feel echoes of her despair, and it makes my heart clench painfully in my chest. She should not have this effect on me, I know. Perhaps there is some truth in Dorothy’s words: she is softening me.

I cannot bring myself to resent her for it.

I recognize the ominous feeling of the creature lingering above her. Even in the Glimpse, its form is made up of a writhing mass of nothing, a void of feeling and thought. I watch as it pushes at her, feeding off of her. It drains her until she is nothing more than a spark of light lost in the darkness around her.

And then she begins to climb.

I watch as she does it. She claws her way upwards, teeth borne, eyes wide and full of desperate determination. Something about it touches me in a way I cannot describe. I find myself leaning forward, in spite of the fact that Salazar is watching me. My fingers twitch. Keep going, I think. Keep going, Lydia. You can break free.

She does break free. She bursts forth from the ground, snarling, grabbing at the wall and pulling herself out through sheer force of will. The image of her begins to glow, brighter and brighter, so bright that it hurts my eyes to watch. But I do. I do not look away. I watch as she drives the Aberration back long enough to flee. By the time the scene ends and the Glimpse winds back into itself, my mouth is dry. My ears are ringing, and I feel a sense of awe.

She told me, didn’t she? I don’t have enough juice to drive it off like I did the first time. That’s what she said. I didn’t even register the words at the time — I was too focused on getting us out alive. I wasn’t paying attention to her. How did I not see it?

“There are theories, of course,” Salazar says, palming the Glimpse and putting it back in his pocket. “About what she might be. We’ve tossed about the idea that she might be an Aberration herself, but we’ve looked into her background extensively. There’s no sign that there’s been anything strange about her history until this point. We believe the moment she was bound to you, whatever connection she has to the Aether awakened.” He narrows his eyes in thought. “Someone has been hiding her.”

I think of the things Lydia has done. From the very first, her power has manifested on instinct alone. When she drew energy from me to crush the mug. When she split the amalgam in two. Even when she reached out to pour herself into me, she had no training, no notion of how to mold the energies of the Aether to do her bidding. I haven’t had the time to stop and consider what that means.

Lydia is more than a mere Shaper. She’s something else. She’s something I’ve never encountered before.

“Here’s the problem we have,” Salazar continues. He ignores my silence, my no doubt dumbstruck expression. “Left to her own devices, that girl is incredibly dangerous. There’s no telling what she might do to the veil if she’s allowed to wander unchecked. Until we have a clearer picture of how she got hold of this power — of where she comes from — we cannot simply leave well enough alone.”

He’s standing directly in front of me now, the book still clutched in his hand. “We prefer not to put her down, of course. As I said, she has great potential to be a valuable asset…”

“I will look out for her.”

I speak the words before thinking. They burst from me unprompted, and part of me wants to take them back. Not because I did not mean them, but because I can see the gleam in Salazar’s eye. He knows now. That she means something to me.

She does, doesn’t she? My god, how far have I fallen?

“That’s rather generous of you, William. Charitable, even. Dare I say unlike you? Whyever would you volunteer for such a thing?”

I think quickly. I must cover my mistake with something both convincing and sincere.

“Power,” I answer, and he raises a brow. “You and I both saw what she did. Imagine what more she could do. What creature such as I would not want to bind themselves to a mortal like that?” I gesture at the air where Lydia’s image recently hovered. “She’s malleable, too. Biddable.” I smile crookedly at him. “In fact, I think a better question is whether you’re certain it is wise to let me remain bound to her at all. Given my…record.”

I see that gleam of realization vanish from the man’s eyes. I wonder if I’ve found the right balance: I do not want him to replace me and try to bind Lydia to another. But I know how dangerous it is to allow a high-ranking member of the Archive that sort of leverage. It is a knife’s edge, but it must be walked.

Relief floods me as he nods his head, then gives another smile. This one is condescending. “I suppose you may be able to steer her growth in the beginning, spirit, but I doubt her naiveté will last long. Still. So long as you don’t hold her back, and she agrees to work with us. Well.” He tucks the grimoire beneath his arm. “I see no reason not to take your offer into consideration.”

If she agrees to work with us. The words ring like a gong in my head, and I struggle to keep the alarm off of my face. To keep my features blank.

“Where is she?” I ask, my tone level. “Lydia, that is? I left her at the Rosewood Hotel. I assume that still stands as one of the Archive’s outposts in this city.”

The man’s lips quirk slightly. “It does yet,” he replies. “Never fear. Avidia delivered a message some hours ago. I’ve a feeling your Master will be joining us shortly.”

As if to confirm his suspicions, I feel a vague brush of Lydia’s consciousness against mine. For a moment, I open the bond, my thoughts full of warning. What should I tell her? To flee? She has no idea what the Archive is capable of.

She has no idea because I never bothered to tell her.

You fool, I think to myself, seething. You absolute fool!

‘…William! William, are you alright?’

I blink. She’s still far enough away that I hadn’t expected such open communication. The bond between us must be stronger than I thought.

‘I…’

‘It's like they're torturing you in there. What's happening? I'm not above setting the building on fire for an excuse to call 911.’

Her tone lets me know she's kidding. Mostly. I have to fight the urge to laugh. Mirth builds in my chest, and my eyes water. I’m grateful that Salazar has turned his back to me, watching Mr. Darcy in its endless pacing.

‘You should not be here,’ I tell her. ‘It isn't safe, Lydia. I told you to stay at the hotel. Why didn’t you listen to me?’

‘I know it's not safe,’ she replies bluntly. 'I've picked up on that during the last few times I've almost died. But standing around with my thumb up my ass kind of flew out the window when your buddy showed up and told me you were being held hostage.’ A brief pause. Then: ‘Besides. I'm not alone. I'll be fine:’

‘You’re not?’ I pray she isn't with Avidia. ‘Who’s with you?’’

‘Nathan is. He came here with that Templar guy. Evidently Dakota convinced him you were a threat and he needed to tag along to keep us safe from you. I'm trying to talk Nate into helping me get you out of there.’

I push down the swell of gratitude I feel toward her. I must get a handle on these emotions. They’re preventing me from thinking clearly.

‘Lydia. The Archive is not to be trifled with. If you try anything against them directly, I have no doubt they will kill you. Do you understand?’

‘Lydia. The Archive is not to be trifled with. If you try anything against them directly, I have no doubt they will kill you. Do you understand?’

‘…Are these the guys you’re working for? Your dramatic friend said you were bringing me to them on purpose,’ she replies. There’s guardedness in her words, and it pains me to hear it. ‘Is that true? Be honest with me, William. Please.’

I hesitate. The truth could cause her to abandon me. Perhaps that would be for the best. Would she be safer out there, though, without someone to protect her? Lost, without answers, stumbling about with powers that might be as dangerous as the creatures who would consume her because of them?

No. She wouldn’t be safer. She needs me. Maybe only for a time, but she needs me now.

‘Yes,’ I answer. ‘I did bring you here to give you to them. But I beg you to let me explain.’

There’s a pause. I can sense her thinking about it, sense her feelings of betrayal. Yet she does not simply turn away from me. When I hear her voice in my head again, it is guarded, but calm.

‘Tell me everything you can.’