New Olympus Saga (Book 2): Doomsday Duet (48 page)

“If that happens, I’ll kill you, I guess.”
Mark’s words. But if her evil bitch self was right, Mark was going to die before he had a chance to fulfill his promise. The unfairness of the whole thing washed over her. She’d been plucked from her normal life only to be forced to choose between death and more death.

Wait, just wait a second. Remember Cassandra. She couldn’t tell what the future was, not exactly. Why is Baby Freak so sure?

Good point, brain.
“Cassandra said the mere act of observing the future can change it.” The blind seer had told Mark that factoid a bunch of times. “And how do you know that the Ukrainians are going to fail? What if I let them win just out of spite?”

The First’s glowing eyes widened and she felt pure horror coming off him like stink from a skunk.

“You were just trying to play it safe,” she told him. “You saw my alternate future self and you crapped your pants and figured it’d be easier to kill me, instead of helping me avoid that future. You’re the worst teacher ever, you’re a cowardly little shit, and I’m done listening to you!”

The First lashed out with his mind one more time, but she sensed the attack and blocked it; the psychic blast bounced back onto the treacherous little d-bag. The child-thing screamed in pain once again and fell limply to the ground. Was he dead? Christine decided the kindest thing to do was not to check, because if he was alive she’d be tempted to finish him off. She shook her head at the thought. Yeah, she probably should kill him, and she’d almost certainly regret not doing it, but she couldn’t bring herself to murder someone in cold blood.

Christine rose to her feet. Her winter coat had been burned right off and the leather jacket underneath was pretty scorched, courtesy of her evil twin, but the skin underneath had healed off already, thanks to her kewl powerz. She turned her back on the First’s limp form and looked for an exit. They were in some sort of underground cavern, which probably wasn’t natural at all in a place with a water table that made Florida look like Nevada. One end led deeper down; the other had sunlight at its end, making it the easiest choice of the day. She rushed out. Time to find Mark and Father Alex and get the eff out of Dodge.

They were already waiting for her.

Her empathy should have picked them up, but somehow didn’t. There were at least a dozen guys with disruptors, and they opened up on her the second she stepped outside. She didn’t get a chance to form a shield; the twisting purple beams hit her and overwhelmed her with agony.

Christine didn’t even have time to wish she had killed the little freak.

* * *

She was back in her old room in Mom’s house. Back in her Hello Kitty pajamas. Back to wishing this was reality and all the other crap a really bad dream. Christine started to deeply resent these dream visions. Why couldn’t they switch things around a little? It was as if they wanted to reuse the same set to save money or something.

Christine looked around the room. Nobody was there so far. If the First poked his misshapen little head into her dream, though, she was going to kill him.

Somebody knocked on the bedroom door.

Okay, that was new. Her vision peeps usually just let themselves in and played with her mind without so much as a by-your-leave. “Come in,” she said to whoever.

Dad opened the door and walked in.

Neos aren’t supposed to get any older after they get their powers, but one look at this version of Dad showed that wasn’t quite true. The man who came in looked pretty much the same – same red hair and freckles, same build and features – but his expression, the way he moved, the way his eyes sparkled when he met her, they were completely different, less worn-down and time-ravaged. And, most important of all, not crazy. This was a sane man who smiled when he looked at his daughter.

She’d never seen Dad smile before. It wasn’t a huge smile, it was wry and thin-lipped and he looked almost embarrassed about it, but it was a smile.

“Christine,” he said. His voice was still a little hoarse, but it was much smoother than before. “I’m so glad to see you.”

It was hard not to get emotional, but she’d been through too much. She couldn’t trust her senses; she was in Dreamland and nothing was what it seemed. “Pardon me if I don’t start jumping up and down and giving hugs and stuff,” she said dryly. “I don’t know if it’s you, or the First playing tricks, or what.”

The wry smile didn’t waver. He sat down on the swivel chair by her old computer desk and turned to face her. “I can’t blame you for being suspicious, sweetheart. You’ve been lied to and manipulated before, by me as much as anybody else.”

Christine nodded, sitting on her bed and watching him carefully. If he did anything funny she was going to turn into Snipe, kickass Elven rogue, and start hacking and slashing.

“You know how to find out the truth, Christine. Just look at me.”

He wanted her to use the Christine-vision thingy on him. The last time she’d used it on Dad had been bad. She’d blocked out most of it, but she remembered enough to know she never wanted to look at him again. At some point in his life, Damon Trent had forged a link to the Outsiders, and he’d lost his mind and soul in the bargain. It had been a horrible thing to see.

Christine never ceased to be amazed at her capability to do things she absolutely didn’t want to do.  She sat up straight on the bed and opened up her third eye or whatever, the ability to see energy and emotions and so much more. As always, the result was unexpected.

Damon Trent’s soul stood before her. Not the whole thing, though. It was a fragment of the whole, she realized without understanding how she knew this, but she was used to that by now. Like a piece of a hologram, the fragment retained most of the patterns of the whole, but this fragment wasn’t tainted and mutated by the Outsider’s energies. This piece of Damon Trent wasn’t insane or cursed. Diminished as it was, it was a human pattern, beautiful and warm and loving.

Next thing she knew, Christine was hugging her father, hugging him tightly, and for a few seconds it was just the two of them, reunited the way they’d never been, the way they should have been, and everything was all right. She cried on his shoulder and he told her everything would be all right, and she accepted the lie because it was his lie to tell.

“Okay,” Christine said after a while, stepping away and wiping her eyes. “This isn’t just a family reunion, is it? Because out there in the real world I’m in deep doo-doo.”

“I know,” Dad said. “In fact, that’s the reason I was able to reach you. Your defenses make it almost impossible for anybody to communicate with you, but they are at their lowest ebb right now.”

“The First managed to do it just fine, though. Messed with my head, almost got me killed, and now sold me out to the bad guys.”

“The First was able to do that through your link to the Source, and as soon as you fought him back you shut off the connection. When the disruptors wear off, your defenses will come back online and I won’t be able to speak with you. We have some time, though.”

“Time enough to tell me what happened at your island?”

“Mr. Night and I fought to a draw. We destroyed each other, more or less. I fragmented. One piece is trying to reconstitute itself. I don’t know where the Tainted fragment went, but I fear it’s still around. This piece sought you out.  I’ve been following you for a while now, hoping for a chance to speak with you.”

“Following me for a while? For how long? Have you been playing Peeping Tom on me and Mark, Dad? Oh, God, that’s so messed up!”

“It doesn’t work like that, Christine. I don’t see things the way a living being does. I have seen you experience joy and sorrow, pain and love. But I’ve been spared any gory or embarrassing details. Which I’m sure is for the best, for everyone concerned.”

Phew.

“So, tell me about this Mark fellow,” he continued. I met him briefly, yes, but I wasn’t in a good state of mind at the time.”

First real father-daughter talk, and that was the subject matter? Yikes. “He’s a good guy. He really loves me.”
And right about now he’s probably fighting the entire Ukrainian Army. Unless he’s already lost. Unless he’s already dead.
No, she wasn’t going to think about that. “And I love him. Weird, since I’ve only known him for like a week, but I do.”

“That’s good, I think. I’m glad you found someone.”

“Do you know if he’s okay? Do you know what’s going on outside my head?”

“You and Mark were captured and are being taken somewhere within the Dominion. That is all I can tell from my perspective.”

That didn’t sound very good at all, but at least he was alive. “How about Father Alex?”

Dad’s smile was gone. He shook his head.

Christine closed her eyes tightly but a tear still squeezed out and ran down her face. Mark had been afraid that would happen. First Cassandra, and now this.

She felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Christine.”

“He was a good man. Mark’s going to be devastated.”

“And you’ll help him when you can. For now, you have more pressing worries.”

“Sure, like worrying about what the Ukrainians are planning to do with us.”

“With you, mostly. You know they want to use you to take control over the Source.”

“The First told me they will fail. They’ll only manage to kill me while trying to do it.” She was pretty sure she wouldn’t survive if they succeeded, either.

“The First doesn’t know half as much as he thinks he does. His connection with the Source warped and diminished him.”

“You’ve met him?”

“In a manner of speaking, mostly through visions. I know what he became after the Source came into this world. In any case, when you are trying to divine the actions of beings of your power level, it’s almost impossible to see clearly: even a tiny change in mood, a slightly delayed action or even a random thought can lead to vastly different outcomes. That’s why he sent you to an alternate time, to try to get a look at the most likely future. But even that future is one possibility.  It’s probable, but not inevitable.”

“Nice. So maybe things are going to be more like
Terminator II
than
Terminator III
. But there are no guarantees, are there? I could die in the next few days.” Or be tortured. These were the evil, horrible people, and they had her now. Their minions had already tortured Kestrel. After everything, after all the fighting and running, they had her now. Christine fought off a surge of panic.
Come on, don’t punk out
, she told herself. She could handle this. Maybe.

“Yes. But defeat is only a certainty if you give up. You have enormous power, Christine,” Dad said. “The Iron Tsar has captured you, but he’s riding a tiger. If he makes one mistake, you can turn the tables on him.”

And if he doesn’t, I’m effed.

“Use your wits, Christine. They are as likely to trick you as to beat you into submission. They will also try to take the Codex from you; they can’t, not unless you willingly give it to them, or they kill you.”

“They can’t just take it from me?”

“No. I gave it to you, and it cannot be used by anyone else until you pass it on. You might be able to access it even while imprisoned.”

“Might? I could use something definite right now, Dad.”

“I was never able to do much with it. I learned a few Words, and I don’t know the Codex’s full capabilities. You will be able to do a lot more. Bide your time until you see a chance. Be strong.”

“You almost make it sound easy.”

His expression became grim. “It won’t be.” He looked down as he went on. “I will never be able to apologize enough for what I did to you. If things had gone as I planned, you’d never have been in this situation, but you’d still have faced danger and been forced to make terrible choices. I was trying to save the world, but you didn’t deserve any of this. I am truly sorry, Christine.”

What could she say to that? I forgive you, Dad? She could say it, but it would be a lie. Her life had been ruined, she had been dragged into a war without her knowledge, let alone her consent, and now she was in the hands of some truly terrible people. No; she might understand why he’d done all of this, but she couldn’t forgive him. “I guess it could have been worse, Dad,” she finally said. Kinda lame, but kinda lame was the best she could come up with.

“I love you Christine. Be strong,” he said, and popped out of existence like a punctured balloon. Christine looked at the spot where he’d been even as the dream room began to dissolve away into nothingness.

Time to wake up and return to the real world.

Be strong.

I’ll try, Dad.

She opened her eyes.

Epilogue

The Genocide

Star System 9183, Milky Way Galaxy

THE INTRUDER IS FOUND.

The entity named Cassius-Jones had given it a name: the Genocide. That had been accurate enough that it had adopted the title as its own.

I HAVE FOUND YOU, CASSIUS-JONES.

Tracking a single being through the vastness of space should have been impossible, but one of the first lessons learned by those who attained mastery over the Power was that distance was a variable, not a fixed concept. All of spacetime had once been contained within a point smaller than a hydrogen atom: those with enough energy at their disposal could momentarily fold parts of space into something approaching that compressed state. The Genocide had the energy and – barely – enough time to focus its will to the task at hand.

Time – another variable, but one far harder to alter – was running out. The Taint Cassius-Jones had released was growing within its soul. The darkness would eventually corrode away its mind and volition, replacing them with the unceasing urge to destroy. The irony that the Taint would merely extend its hatred to include all of Creation instead of merely most of it was not lost to the Genocide. After all its sacrifices, it would soon become the thing it had fought. None of that mattered; oblivion would resolve everything.