Beyond The Door (3 page)

"Take a good look at him, Rhonda. He's
weakening. His ability to go corporeal is lessoning. He can barely
stay solid when he needs to. He's pale. His power is directly tied
to hers—they're linked in a way that I don't even—" he sighed. "I
don't
want
to think about. Even though it was something that
happened before she and I—"

Rhonda put her hand to her face. "You think…you
think she's dying?"

"I don't know," he hissed. "But we need to get
her out." He licked his lips and glanced back.

"What?" Rhonda leaned closer. "Don't you go
tight lipped on me, Detective Frasier. There's something else here.
What is it?"

"I'm meeting with Joe and Azrael later. They
know I have this," he reached inside his jacket to the breast
pocket and retrieved a folded piece of parchment sealed in a
plastic bag.

Rhonda held up a trembling hand. "Is
that—"

He nodded and held it out to her. "It's a page.
I found it on the mountain in Albuquerque. Damn neared fried myself
getting to it. But it's in tact. No damage."

She reached out with trembling hands and took
it, holding it as if it were a priceless relic. After turning it
over she reached out with her left hand, the receiving hand. It
disappeared for a few seconds until she pulled another plastic bag
from thin air and lowered it to her lap. He'd seen her use the Veil
on occasion, and it still amazed him that by reciting a simple
spell from the
Grimoire
she'd been able to convert a small
piece of her aura into a place to hide things.

This only testified to the power inside that
damned book.

The bag she'd pulled was filled with pages like
the one he'd given her. She carefully opened the single page bag
and removed the paper. Daniel took the plastic as she placed the
page inside of the larger bag and began to count. The pages were
all blank. This worried Daniel, but Rhonda assured him the content
would appear again once things were set to rights.

"Seventeen pages, Daniel. Seventeen facilities
for him. Things missing. Memories mixed with spells. How to speak.
How to walk. How to understand. But is this enough? Is this
all?"

"We won't know until you put them all back
together, in order," he said softly, and then looked at the ground,
his head bowed. "We have to bring him back. He can't live—he can't
live like this."

"I'm surprised you care, Daniel," Rhonda
carefully resealed the bag and with her right hand, hid them inside
her Veil again. "About Darren."

"I don't," he said quickly as he looked at her.
"He stole her from me, when I couldn't do anything about what had
happened to me," he said. Then stopped himself.

No. I can see your memory,
Daniel
.
Inanna's own voice was chiding.
You rejected her when you saw what she did with Charlie
Holmes' soul. You pulled away. She'd been in the act of doing a
good thing. And you—

"I
know
," he nearly yelled. "I
get
it," he said in a quieter tone.

"Inanna talking to you?"

He nodded. "It's not Dags' fault. But I can't
like him. I never will. I'm looking for these pages for
her
,
Rhonda. To bring Zoë back."

"She loves Dags, Daniel," Rhonda said softly.
"I—I don't like it either."

"Because
you
love him."

She sighed. "I can't stop myself. I try. I mean
I know he loves her. Has loved her from the moment they met. But
because I love him I want him put back together."

"You don't want him like this? He's yours to
take care of."

She stood then, her expression hard. He stood
as well and they faced each other as fireflies moved like tiny
diamonds around them. "I want him whole. Having him like a doll
isn't like having him at all, Daniel."

He nodded. "I won't ever like him."

"And he'll probably never like you," she said,
and she sounded very sad. 

NONA
straightened the covers around him
after turning him on his right side. An alarm by her bed woke her
every three hours. Each time she made her way to Dags' room, the
same one he'd had before in Rhonda's compound, and moved his legs,
pumping them toward his chest and then away. She moved his arms.
His wrists. She did everything she could to preserve what muscle
tone she could, having been in a similar situation months
earlier—her soul rudely sucked from her body and stored in
a—

Ah…let's not think about that right
now.

Returning to her own body had felt
comfortable—if not a little lighter. Her muscles had atrophied some
and the nurses at Miller Oaks had done a pretty good job keeping
her muscles in good shape. And they kept her clean. So she paid it
forward.

Nona just wished it wasn't Darren on the bed in
front of her. She wished in some odd fashion, it would've been
her.

He's so young…and like Zoë…experienced so
much already. This shouldn't be happening to him. I wanted them to
be together. But not like this. Not separated by planes, locked out
from each other.
Yet—this was the only way to keep them both
safe.

From
them
.

It was past midnight when she pushed the pillow
against his back. She'd cut his hair again, trimming the back that
morning. His eyes were closed now. He was asleep. Though most days
they were open, and he blinked slowly, a little more present than
she'd been in her own body. Every now and then she heard him…would
glance at Rhonda to see if she had…and would push his voice from
her mind.

He was frightened. Nona stopped what she was
doing and listened again. Maybe, in the quiet of the night she
could hear him, and not be overheard herself. Maybe—

"Nona."

It was hard not to stiffen her back—her gut
reaction when she heard her ex-husband's voice. Ex because she'd
divorced him when she believed he'd abandoned her and their
daughter. Divorced him because she thought he was a coward. She'd
hated him for a long time.

But now that she knew what he was, and what he
was capable of?

She feared him. As she'd feared nothing and no
one else in her life. He was Ethereal. He was—

A Virture, an Ethereal being that inspired
mortals to strive and succeed in what was right. What was
righteous.

For a long time after Zoë's body changed and
her powers grew, Nona suspected, had even convinced herself, that
Adiran had become the Phantasm. And until Jason and his ilk
revealed the truth months ago, she'd still carried that belief.
That her daughter would have to battle her father. Wraith against
Phantasm.

Imagine her surprise to find Adiran was
something much worse.

She felt him in the room, a heat behind her.
Why were the Ethereals always warm, and the Abysmals always cold?
It seemed in direct opposition to present religious philosophies.
But then, so did her opinions of the planes and their
masters.

Nona reached out and brushed a stray hair from
Dags' face, noting the long dark lashes against his cheek. She sat
back but didn't turn to look at him. It was too painful. Adiran
was…and still is…beautiful. Her shining Antonio… Her Latin dream.
"Adiran."

"How goes the search?" His voice grew around
her, slightly vibrating the dust on the nightstand.

She looked at Dags. Had he and her daughter
made love in this room? Would he remember it? Did he dream of
Zoë?

Did
she
dream of
him
?

Sighing, she pulled down the shades in her
mind—the ones her great-Uncle had helped her build—and turned to
look at him. He looked as he always had. Young. Beautiful. Dark
curly hair that brushed his shoulders. A strong aquiline nose and
dark, expressive eyes. "They're not even close yet."

He nodded. "I see." Adiran moved to her side
and peered down at Dags. "The paths always choose beauty, don't
they?"

She only nodded.

"Don't be angry with me, Nona."

"Then don't do this." She watched him. "Don't
put your daughter and him through this."

"There can not be a void and you know
this."

"I know that it doesn't have to be Zoë. It can
be a First Born. Or some other strong, Abysmal
creature."

"We put the strongest choice into the position,
Nona. You know this. I told you. The casting out of Fallen. The
creation of the Irin. You're going to create that same condition
again—and for what?"

"We've gone over this," he said as he knelt
down beside her. He tried to take her hand but she pulled it away.
He sighed. "The barriers between the planes must be closed. The
Abysmals must not be allowed to roam any longer. We were close in
destroying the Revenants—" his eyebrows knitted for a second before
smoothing. "Before my daughter interfered."

"Destroying the Revenants by using the old book
wasn't the answer, Adiran. The Revenants are what's left of that
golden age. We can't just—"

"YES WE CAN!"

His voice thundered over the compound and she
heard the glass on the nightstand rattle. Dags shifted in his sleep
and his brows knitted together, the first voluntary movement she'd
seen since Rhonda took him in. She winced as her own ears rang and
reached out to comfort Dags, making "
Shhh
…" noises at him.
"It's okay, Darren..." Nona glared at Adiran. "Please
leave."

She thought for a minute he was going to raise
his voice again. Instead he seemed to deflate as he stood, and hung
his head. "I'm sorry…I sometimes forget what the physical plane was
like. How fragile everything is."

But Nona ignored him, her hands on Dags, one of
them smoothing his hair back from his face over his ear. He quieted
and went still again. But he'd moved.

He'd
moved
!

"Everything Abysmal in the inner planes must be
removed. Sent back. And with Zoë as the seat, I know she'll listen
to us and keep them where they belong."

Right
. She kept her gaze on Dags, not
trusting herself to look at her ex-husband.
And Dags? He'll
remain as the leverage you'll use once she regains herself.
That's what worried Nona. There was always an adjustment period
when a new Phantasm was placed. Sometimes it took only the
equivalent of a day. Sometimes weeks. Sometimes a century before
they resonated.

Zoë had been locked inside the Seat now for
several months with no movement, no sign of conscious thought. Or
so Adiran had told her. Nona didn't know where she was. She knew
Azrael did. But the First Born was getting weaker by the day. She
knew this. Without Zoë here, his hold on his ability to manifest in
the physical plane would cause him to lose himself into the
Abysmal.

It was his tenuous hold to Zoë that made him
powerful.

His only hope of staying here would be to
become a Revenant. But that would diminish him. And they were going
to need him strong.

"Please Nona. I need your help. We need the
book whole. Once he's whole—we can take the book and join his
physical body with hers. That should make her happy. Then we can
clear the planes and finally make a better world with their
union."

"Adiran," she looked at him, careful to keep
the blinds down. "Don't make a move—"

But he shook his head as he took a step back.
"You can't say no to me, Nona. If you do…I will destroy
Zoë."

ALICE
listened to them as Darren's body
rested. To the Witch and the Angel.

She could hear and see through him, as she'd
done since becoming his Familiar. He simply didn't have control of
his body anymore. But he could think. And he could hear her. All
three of them could.

Even Maureen.

Alice realized immediately what had happened
after Maureen removed the book.

Maureen. So much had happened to her since
becoming a Familiar. Used by Rodriguez. Used by Bonville. Alice
felt her in the distance, weeping, unwilling to come to she and
Darren as they sat on rocks beside the dark ocean shore in his
mind. It was a place Alice had made for him when she realized they
were trapped.

At first it'd been difficult to rouse the
representation of Darren internally. She'd found him, unconscious
on the shore. So Alice had created light, and a place to sit. A
place to coax him back to her. But that was as far as her power
could go.

A fire flickered in front of them, warming
their feet. The cracking and popping wood was a comfort as the
waking world's events played out like a projection screen over the
forever setting sun. This was their prison.

This was hell.

"What did he mean?" Darren turned and asked
Alice. She sat on the stone beside him, a figure in white sweats,
tee shirt and shawl. "Would he really destroy his
daughter?"

"The fight to retake control consumes him," she
said, her eyes fastened on the fire. Darren's eyes were closed in
the waking world, so the horizon was setting inside of this
reality. Tomorrow when he opened his eyes again, and Nona continued
to take care of him, they'd get another boring view of his lap, or
of the television. She and Darren just wished Nona would put it on
something besides Turner Classic Movies. There was only so much
Wuthering Heights
a Guardian and his Familiar could
take.