The Romulus Equation (22 page)

Cornelius Quaint stood in the open doorway…

‘
Cornelius
!' gasped Madame Destine.

Renard nudged Quaint into the prison chamber with the barrel of his gun. ‘Sorry we're late, Lady Sirona. We didn't miss the confession, did we?'

‘How much of that did you hear?' asked Sirona of her son.

‘
Enough
,' was the only response that Quaint gave her, as pain of an altogether more personal variety quickly replaced the one in his dislocated shoulder. He could not take his eyes from the frail old woman in the wheelchair. ‘Is it true? All that you said?'

Sirona nodded. ‘I am your mother, my son… and I am alive!'

‘I always…
knew
the Consortium was involved… but not like this,' mumbled Quaint, barely coherent. ‘Not like this…' He could no longer speak. A torrent of emotions and conflicting thoughts and images surged inside his head. His mother was alive. But, no. There must be some mistake. This husk of a woman couldn't be his mother. His mother was dead. As was his father. But no. No, she couldn't be. She was right there in front of him. No dream, no ghost. No lie. No, that wasn't right. It was a lie. Everything that he had been told, everything that he had known ever since he was a boy… it was all a lie.

Dead.

Alive.

Lost.

Found.

Quaint turned to look at Destine. The revelation had sapped all the strength from his bones and his mouth fell open, barely able to function. ‘Did… did you
know
?'

‘No, Cornelius, I swear!' cried Destine. ‘I knew nothing of this! I am as shocked as you, my sweet.'

‘Somehow,' Quaint mumbled, ‘I doubt that.'

‘Cornelius… listen to me! We shall fix this.
Together.
You and I. We shall fix this!'

‘As much as I hate to break up this tender moment… can we get back to business?' asked Renard. ‘When can I kill him, Lady Sirona.'

‘Bring him to me!' hissed Sirona. ‘Let me lay my hands upon him.'

Quaint's head lolled from side to side, his ears unable to piece together where all the noise was coming from. He had lost all sense of gravity. Renard lifted him clumsily to his feet, slamming him against one of the stone pillars supporting the ceiling. He clamped his metal hand onto Quaint's scalpskull and pushed him down onto his knees. Quaint's eyes narrowed as the shapes before him formed themselves into a woman's face. He frowned in confusion, his addled brain trying to work out why she looked so familiar.

‘I… I
know
you,' His voice was like a child's.

‘Yes, my son.' Reaching out her hand, Sirona placed it onto Quaint's chest as her fingertips began to glow. ‘Mummy's here.'

Quaint's body began to convulse, beams of light spouting from his open mouth, a pulsating glow spreading across his chest to his dislocated shoulder, pumping the muscles and bones with Sirona's energy. He was helpless to resist and Sirona had every intention of making the most of her captive audience.

‘My darling boy,' she said, stroking his silver-white hair, pulling the wayward curls from the river of sweat on his forehead, ‘I have such wonderful news. Our family will be made whole again very soon. Mother… son… and granddaughter reunited at last.'

Destine lifted her head from her hands. ‘
What
did you just say?'

‘Tell her, Antoine,' ordered Sirona.

Hovering an inch from Quaint's back, with one eye on the wavering conjuror and one eye on Destine's beleaguered face, he said, ‘You remember the night that I killed his wife, Mother?'

‘
Margarite
?' gasped Destine, seeing Quaint's eyelids flicker as the name was spoken. ‘I remember, you monster! It was that night when you cruelly butchered Margarite that I knew that you were lost to me… just as Cornelius's unborn child was lost to him when you took his wife's life.'

‘Yes… only I didn't.'

Destine shook her head, unable to understand his meaning. ‘I… I
saw
her die in Cornelius's arms. I saw what you did to her. And I saw what it did to Cornelius too. From that moment on, he swore to destroy you.'

‘And look how that turned out, eh?' said Renard, holding his metal hand like an axe behind Quaint's head. ‘But, no, I wasn't talking about
her
… I was talking about the child'.

‘Child? There was no child!' said Destine. ‘We only learned that Margarite was pregnant after she had died… after the—'

‘After the Quaint family doctor bundled her corpse into the back of a wagon and took her off to the mortuary, yes, I know,' said Renard. ‘Only he didn't make it that far, I'm afraid. The Hades Consortium took charge of her… and the child inside her.'

‘Did you really think that I would sacrifice my grandchild as well as my son?' said Sirona, channelling yet more energy into Quaint's body, the most that she had ever used before, every last ounce of it. ‘My superiors permitted my intervention, and although she was several months premature, our skilled medics allowed her to grow into a normal, happy little girl.'

‘
Girl
?' said Destine. ‘Cornelius has a…'

‘A daughter, yes,' confirmed Sirona. ‘Constance, we named her… and she is hardly a little girl any more. She has grown into quite a spirited young woman, almost thirty years old by now. Thankfully, she seems to share none of her father's bad habits.'

‘Where is she?' demanded Destine. ‘Have you tainted her mind as you did to Antoine?'

‘No… no, I have consciously kept Constance well away from the dealings of the Hades Consortium,' said Sirona. ‘I do not wish her to be…
tainted
, as you say. She is safe and well, and a long way from this place. A long way from anywhere, in fact.'

As Sirona's attention seemed to fade, so too did her energy, and Quaint snapped awake, a million thoughts rushing around in his head, a million words to say, a million lies to deny, a million truths to accept – but he could still not utter a single one. From somewhere amidst the mire of his mind, he found the strength to lift his arm, his fingers opening and closing, grasping for something as his eyes became fixed upon Sirona. Unbelievably… he managed to speak:

‘Con… stance…?'

‘He is not fully cleansed, my Lady!' yelled Renard, grabbing hold of Quaint's skull once more. ‘He needs more. Give him some more! Purge his mind of
everything
!'

‘Stay away from him, you witch!' yelled Prometheus, yanking on his chains, but it was pointless. Even with all his might he could not free himself. ‘If you hurt him… if you muck with his head… I swear, not even this prison will stop me from killing you.'

‘I'm not going to
hurt
him… I'm going to make him
better!
' Sirona laughed; a laugh that quickly escalated into a rasping hack. ‘The Hades Consortium does not bow down to threats, oaf! You are in a cage where you belong, and there is no one left to stop me.'

‘I hate to disagree,' said the guard pushing Sirona's wheelchair, ‘but I think you might have miscounted.' He threw back his crimson hood to reveal the moustachioed face of Viktor Dzierzanowski, and he was holding a knife to the old woman's throat. ‘Let my friend go or I will open you up right here and now.'

‘Who is
this
buffoon?' asked Renard, as he gripped Quaint's skull tighter. ‘I'll tell you, whoever you are… release my mistress or I will make Cornelius's eyes pop out. And they really will pop, by the way. That's the actual sound they'll make. It's really quite extraordinary, trust me – I've done it before.'

‘I must insist that you step away from my friend.' Viktor flashed a beaming smile as he pushed his knife deeper into Sirona's neck. A fine seam of blood seeped onto the blade. ‘And I have done
this
before too.'

‘Do as he says!' commanded Sirona.

Renard curled his lips. ‘My Lady?'

‘Just do it, Renard! Release my son, for all the good it will do him. He is a long way from free yet. This is the Hive, remember? There
is
no escape.'

Renard released his grip and Quaint collapsed, tasting dirt as his face slammed onto the ground.

‘
Gut
! And now, metal-hand, you will give me your gun,' Viktor ordered Renard, who reluctantly did so. Without looking, Viktor pointed the gun at Prometheus and fired a shot. The chain fixing Prometheus to the stone wall shattered. ‘You must be Prometheus,' the knife thrower said to the strongman. ‘I have heard a lot about you.'

‘I wish I could say the same, mate,' muttered Prometheus. ‘Now what?'

‘Now you'll die,' sneered Renard. ‘We may be underground but this is still a Hades Consortium base! Do you not think those gunshots will bring every guard in this damned place right—' He was cut off as the prison chamber shook violently…

‘Unless they have more important matters to attend to,' said Viktor. ‘You Hades types might be big on brains, but when it comes to picking a location for your secret headquarters, on top of a volcano was not the smartest of choices, I think.'

‘The volcano?' baulked Renard. ‘It has been dormant for decades!'

‘Not any more,' said Viktor. ‘Now it is a very big bear with a very sore head… and not to mention a fiery temper!'

As if to back up the German's words, the sound of crumbling masonry filled the air as blankets of dust fell from the prison chamber's roof, cracks forming in the stone pillars supporting it. As the chamber shifted on its foundations, the iron bars of Prometheus's cell bent enough for him to squeeze his large mass through them. In a flash, he was free and he took a step over to Destine's cell. His face fixed with rage, Prometheus ripped the inch-thick bars from their moorings and tore at the chains around Destine's wrists and ankles, setting her free.

‘
Merci, mon ami
,' she said, before falling to her knees at Quaint's side. ‘My sweet, speak to me!' Saliva coated Quaint's lips, and his eyes took an age to meet the fortune-teller's. Destine shot a look to Viktor. ‘Monsieur Dzierzanowski, I am pleased to see that you received my psychic message. Thank you for the timely rescue, but we must leave this place post haste. Tell me, have you an exit strategy?'

‘Not really,' admitted Viktor. ‘Unless you fancy meeting a battalion of guards on the way? When the volcano erupted earlier, the blast blew me fifty feet into the air. I retraced my steps through the tunnels and there were guards all over this facility, which is how I managed to gain this attire. The eruption is causing havoc. If we are cautious, we can avoid the headless chickens and make our escape. But we may need to engage any resistance en route,' said Viktor, slapping Prometheus's chest. ‘Game for a little heroic pugilism,
mein Freund
?'

‘Always,' grinned Prometheus.

‘I like you already,' beamed Viktor.

‘You are fools!' snapped Sirona. ‘Do you really think you can just walk out of here? There are guards stationed throughout this entire facility, no matter what disruption the volcano is causing. Tell them, Antoine!' She turned to the spot where Renard had stood –
had
being the operative word. ‘Damn that coward!'

As Destine caressed her hands through Quaint's messy curls, Viktor and Prometheus closed in on Sirona's wheelchair.

‘What… what are you going to do to me?' she gasped. ‘You can't
kill
me!'

‘Why not? You're already dead,' growled Prometheus, cracking his knuckles. ‘So what do you think we should do with her, mate?'

‘I know what I would like to do,' Viktor replied. ‘But it is up to Cornelius.'

Just as Viktor looked down at Quaint, the prison chamber shook again and the shockwave sent several of the stone pillars crashing down like a child's toy bricks. A massive crack appeared in the chamber's ceiling.

‘This place is going to come down any minute,' said Prometheus, coughing through the dust that rained down through the crack in the ceiling. ‘Whatever we're planning on doing with this old hag, we'd best do it quick!'

Viktor felt a nervous void fill his generously proportioned stomach as he looked up at the expanding fracture above his head. He followed the crack's path as it snaked across the ceiling… directly above Quaint and Destine's position. ‘
Mein Gott
!'

Quaint looked up just in time. Acting with a quicksilver mind, he pushed Destine out of the way and she landed in Prometheus's arms just before the prison chamber's ceiling collapsed.

Once the thick dust had settled, the conjuror realised that he was cut off…

Quaint scrabbled at the fallen rocks, and through a tiny gap he could just about see through to the other side of the chamber.

‘Get yourselves out of there before the whole place comes down!' he yelled.

‘But what about you, my sweet?' called Destine. ‘How will you get out?'

‘The same way I came in,' he said, wiping dust from his eyes on his tattered sleeve. ‘There's a shaft that leads right into the main cave. If I can reach it before the volcano blows, I'll meet you topside.'

Destine squeezed her fingers through the gap, clutching Quaint's hand, not wanting to let it go. ‘Hurry.'

‘I'll have to,' said Quaint.

‘But what about her?' asked Viktor, gesturing to Sirona. ‘What shall we do with your mother?'

‘My mother is dead,' said Quaint. ‘That old sow in the chair is a stranger to me.'

With that, Cornelius Quaint was gone.

On the other side of the fallen rocks, Prometheus entered one of the prison cells and pulled out the heavy chains that had until recently bound him to the wall.