Sophia felt like her body was being filled with cement, rooting her to her chair, crushing her windpipe and turning her lungs into immovable blocks through which no air could pass. She wasn’t sure how long they stared at one another, but it was only when the moon had risen in the sky outside the window that she trusted herself to speak.
“My mother is dead.”
“I’m well aware.” He smiled gently.
“We buried her at the church. I saw them lower her in the ground.” It was like she was trying to convince herself it had really happened. Her voice sounded blank and hollow even to her own ears.
“Correct. And I went back later with some trusted associates and brought her back to where she belongs. I’m sorry you had to see her under such unpleasant circumstances. I assure you Jack will be dealt with for exposing you prematurely to such---”
“She doesn’t belong down there,” Sophia said. She suddenly had a vivid flash of the room with the blue door and the wailing noises behind it. That had been the morgue. How long had Reynolds kept the corpse in there, weeping over it? “What are you doing to her?” she asked sharply. Her mind was full of all kinds of sick theories, but she didn’t want to dwell on any of them.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Reynolds said in a heavy voice. “As I said before, I hadn’t planned on explaining everything to you for quite some time. I wanted you to become more comfortable here---more comfortable with me. I had also planned for Clara to be gone at that point. She was becoming a nuisance anyway.”
“Gone?” Sophia repeated, nausea unfurling in her chest.
“Goodness, not like that,” Reynolds said, waving his hand through the air. “I was going to fire her.”
“But she’s been helping you make the cocktails.”
“And once we’d made the one I needed, I wouldn’t have any use for her anymore. Besides, I knew she would never be okay with what I was actually doing. She’s always been a bit too jealous for my taste.”
Jealous? What the fuck was he talking about?
“People are rather easy to motivate when money is involved,” Reynolds continued in a bored voice, glancing over at Clara, who was slumped forward in her chair. “But she was never the partner I was interested in.”
He smiled at Sophia. It made her feel sick. There was another long silence. When the doctor spoke again, his voice was very soft.
“How much did your mother tell you about me, Sophia?”
Sophia swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
“Nothing much,” she whispered. “But you’re my dad, aren’t you?”
Reynolds paused for only a fraction of a second.
“I am.”
He turned around so that his back was facing her, staring up at the moon.
“You inherited a bit of both our powers: your hologram trick comes from me. Clara mentioned you had played around with that. My powers are illusionary, you see. No Telepath can do that. You’re one of the purest specimens I have ever seen, Sophia. Your mother and I were so proud of you. And with your help, we can be a family again.”
“…what?”
“The powers I have been extracting from the Basement children were to create an elixir that would bring Evelyn back to us. For a while, I focused on her body, warding off the natural decay of death and trying various combinations of those children’s powers to revive her. But it was a fruitless endeavor. No matter what I did to Evelyn’s physical form, her essence eluded me. The regenerative powers of those twins, various combinations of Samantha and Liam’s abilities to repair her damaged outward appearance, using Jack’s powers to create a bubble of time around her body in the hopes of reversing her demise…none of it worked. Then I realized I was only focusing on physical solutions, that perhaps a more metaphysical one would be more beneficial.”
“Is that why you used Val?” she whispered. “Because she can see souls?”
“Yes,” he said heavily. He turned back around to face her. His face was dark with sorrow. “I thought your friend could locate Evelyn for me and perhaps rejoin the spiritual with the corporeal form. Please understand that I never intended for her to die…she was much frailer than I had anticipated…”
“So your plan was to what, just keep using powers from residents until you reanimated my mother’s corpse? Then what? Did you ever consider the possibility that she wouldn’t want to come back? Or that you might fail?”
“Of course she wants to come back.” He looked offended. “She would want to see you again. And me.”
A tender look came into his face and his eyes misted over. Sophia was gripped in the throes of such visceral horror and disgust that she felt dizzy. Everything in the room was dilating, like a vision in warped glass. She wasn’t going to pretend that she was some mighty beacon of morality, but torturing kids in the name of regenerating the corpse of a dead lover was pretty out there when it came to the realm of questionable ethical dalliances. Diagnosis? He was absolutely, unequivocally, and without a doubt completely fucking insane.
“So what do you need me for?” she said, dreading the answer. “Clara is under the impression I’m just a filing cabinet for incriminating evidence.”
“That’s what I told her, yes.”
“And it’s the backup plan, right?” She met his unblinking stare. “In case I don’t do whatever it is you want me to do.”
Reynolds smiled. “I’m not going to force you to do anything, my dear. I know you miss her as much as I do.”
Stolen story; please report.
He walked slowly across the room until he came to a stop in front of her chair. He squatted down so they were eye level and tenderly tucked a curl behind her ear.
“You look just like her,” he whispered, leaning forward, his gaze wandering hungrily over her face.
Worms of disgust crawled across her flesh when he touched her. She leaned back, and his hand dropped away. He stood up again, looking down at her with a frown.
“Are you scared of me?”
“You’re not exactly coming across as the father of the year.”
He smiled grimly. “I know I’ve hit you with a lot of information today. But you’ll understand soon enough, especially after we start working together.”
“Working together?” she repeated blankly.
“Like I said, my initial intention was never to feed you the Basement residents. That was simply an opportunity that arose.” Insurance, Sophia thought, a shiver running up her spine. “My initial intent was for us to stand side by side and run this place. And I was hoping you wouldn’t mind picking up where Clara left off. I will terminate her immediately, of course. There’s no need for her now that I have you.”
She stared at him blankly. He surely couldn’t be suggesting what she thought he was suggesting.
“You can help me gather materials for your mother’s elixir,” Reynolds said patiently.
Sophia looked into his eyes, searching desperately for some shred of sanity there, something she could reason with. There was nothing but bottomless, calculative obsession. She felt like a yawning chasm had opened at her feet, and she was tumbling straight down into unfathomable darkness.
“No.”
The word dropped to the floor like a shard of ice. Reynolds just stood there, looking at her.
“I think you’ll come around,” he said finally. “I’m sure you would prefer to be a partner here rather than a filing cabinet.”
“Fuck off.”
“Sophia.” His voice was sharpening with annoyance. “We’re talking about bringing your mother back. How could you not want that?”
“My mom is dead. The sooner you deal with that the better.”
“I believe that death is just a problem science has yet to master.”
“Yeah? Well I believe that death is fucking final, doc, and if you think I’m gonna help you stick pins in kids and play around with corpses, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”
There was a barely noticeable twitch in the doctor’s jaw, but it was gone in just a moment. Then there was groan. Sophia looked over and realized Clara was stirring. Reynolds’ eyes flicked over to her, then back to Sophia.
“We shall revisit this when you’ve had time to think more about it,” he said coolly. “Ah, Doctor. How are you feeling? Sophia gave you quite the tumble.”
Clara’s eyes fluttered open and she sat up, rubbing the back of her neck. She glared at Sophia with hazy eyes.
“You never did know your place,” she snapped.
Sophia considered telling her everything they had just talked about while she was passed out. But then she realized it wouldn’t matter. Clara would never believe her over Reynolds.
“Clara, I think it’s a good time to escort Sophia to her new residences,” the doctor said lightly. “The one we talked about previously.”
“Certainly.”
Clara stood up, still a little unsteady on her feet. Sophia jumped to her feet and backed away. New residence? She didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.
“I won’t have to if you behave.”
Clara took a step forward. Sophia’s anger and fear surged up and she felt something inside of her break and then spill over.
Nobody was quite prepared for what happened next.
Clara stumbled as if she’d been physically pushed. Before she could get her bearings, she was yanked into the air ankle first. She dangled there for a moment like a rag doll before she was flung against the wall. She crumbled to the floor and lay there, unmoving. There was a ringing silence. Reynolds stared from Sophia to Clara, a look of mild surprise on his face.
“Truly extraordinary,” he said. “A damn shame to waste such power on storage”
“I won’t do it,” Sophia panted, emboldened by this unexpected victory. “You can lock me up or do whatever bullshit you want, but I’m not taking any more memories for you. I’ll starve before I’ll help you cover your ass.”
Reynolds raised his eyebrows.
“You’ve never been truly hungry before, have you, Sophia? Do you think those rumblings you experience in between sessions is anything compared to what will happen to you if you simply quit devouring memories? Your power, desperate and backed into a corner like a frightened animal, will turn inward. Instinct will take over, and you will start to devour your own mind.”
Sophia swallowed. “I don’t care.”
“Perhaps not now. But you will,” Reynolds said with an unpleasant smile, “once you start raving like a lunatic and eating yourself into a vegetative state.”
Sophia couldn’t tell if he was fibbing. She could feel a splitting headache coming on. Reynolds was looking at her with cool, rational detachment. Waiting. Clara was still on the floor. He seemed very unconcerned about her welfare.
“Do your worst. I’m not afraid of you,” Sophia said finally, glaring at Reynolds.
The doctor picked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “That’s rather foolish of you.”
“Fuck off.”
“Would you like to see my power, Sophia?” he asked unexpectedly.
His expression made her skin grow cold, and she took an instinctive step backward. It was as if her movement was signal; everything around her suddenly pitched forward, and she was thrust into a horrifying mirror world of warped perception.
It was like a cosmic fist had punched through the fabric of the universe and splintered reality. Hundreds of fissures erupted in the air all around her. Leaking from each one was a thick, dark liquid that smelled like pennies. It was like being in a room full of gaping, bleeding scabs. Panicking and disoriented, Sophia made a break for the door, but when she ran towards it, she saw that it had turned into a big, yawning mouth. Rows of sharp teeth lay at the front of its endless gullet and it chomped at her, snarling. She fell into Reynolds’ desk. The mahogany felt soft beneath her elbows and she began to sink into it. The desk was melting like warm butter, falling into gooey clumps on the carpet. Sophia wrenched free of the hideous substance, only to fall forward and knock against something hard; she spun around and saw that she was looking into a tall mirror, which extended from the floor to the ceiling, but instead of her reflection she saw Sybill, smiling out at her, a broken jar of potpourri in her hand.
“Get up.”
Her eyes flew open. Reynold’s study was quiet, undisturbed, the doors and windows still intact. The only sign of disarray was the papers on the floor, which she must’ve knocked off his desk in her panic. She slowly climbed to her feet, trembling, her heart pounding and cold sweat dripping down her neck. Reynolds was sitting behind his desk, examining her with an amused look on his face. Clara stood at his side, regarding her with smug satisfaction.
“What the hell was that?” Sophia gasped. “What did you do?”
“I did nothing but show you yourself, my dear. Now. You will be residing in the Basement Complex from now on,” he said gently. “You don’t need to worry about transferring your belongings from your old room. I’ll take care of it.”
Clara smoothed her hair, which had been thrown into disarray from Sophia’s previous attack. Then she crossed the room and opened the door.
“Let’s go,” she growled.
“Or what?”
“I break your legs and carry you.”
Sophia hesitated, her mind racing through all the options. They all amounted to pretty much the same thing: a long canoe ride down shit creek without a paddle.
As the door closed behind them, Sophia summoned a great rush of mental energy---ignoring the horrific pain splitting her head in two---and charged it toward Reynolds. She seized hold of his mental thread and projected a message into his consciousness:
You’re a colossal piece of shit and I’m going to bury you.
His response came quickly, oozing slickly like oil into her brain:
Beautiful job at projecting, my dear.