The blackness remained unchanged.
Damn it all to hell. I sighed. Just as I was about to send the release command to Kantowicz, a gray light appeared on the horizon. Like a sunrise, it seeped slowly over the darkness, until it warmed the entire space. Above, pinpricks of light widened until I could, once again, see the LINK. Next to me, Kantowicz's avatar shimmered like a ghost, then, solidified. The image of thin features and round, vanity glasses was a welcome sight. I'd done it. I could've hugged him, but we still had work to do.
Okay, we're in. Here's the ground rules, I said. It's bad enough that I've exposed my friend's hub to an outsider, so we're only staying here long enough to slide out from this address, got it?
Kantowicz frowned, obviously curious about the hub, but he didn't protest. I continued to hold his hand as we stepped through to the next directory. The cobwebs brushed my face as we moved easily over the boundary. I saw Kantowicz's eyes widen, as mouse.net's true nature dawned on him.
This is like the old web, he said, the glee of a brilliant hack illuminating his face.
I smiled in acknowledgment and wondered if all LINK-cops had such an appreciation of the criminal mind.
Our avatars reached a spot clear of directory threads. Though a roiling mist hung in the gray space, I could see the LINK without obstruction. We would have a safe reentry from here. Schooling my avatar's expression, I warned, Just remember I saved you from arrest. If you use this against my friend, I'll find a way to tell your captain that you're associated with the Malachim.
Disappointment showed on his face, but he nodded gravely. It was the first real indication that I'd nabbed the right guy.
I pointed to the twinkling river above. Once we get back there, tell Danny to meet me at Yankee Stadium.
It'll take us some time. We're still in Manhattan, and moving slowly.
I can wait. I wasn't sure why, but I felt the need to remain a bit cagey. I didn't want to tell Kantowicz that the Malachim's firepower was backing me up. Just be safe.
Danny gave me a message for you. Kantowicz grimaced and coughed, as though he found the role of errand boy distasteful. He said: "Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio."
My heart skipped a beat at the familiar, yet alien name: Michael Archangele. Unbidden, the memory of Michael's naked body flashed before my eyes.
Are you all right? Kantowicz peered at me over the rim of his glasses. The image of your avatar shimmered. I thought for a second you were going to yank me out with you.
Oh. I looked down at our hands, still joined together, symbolic of our systems' connection. I released him. You should probably go.
I'm sorry. I didn't know it would bother you so much. What's it mean?
I shook my head. I'm not sure exactly. Don't worry about me. I don't know why I reacted that way, I lied. It was thoughtful of Danny to pray for me, really. I didn't know he knew Latin. Tell him thanks.
Sure. Kantowicz looked doubtful. Daniel wants to meet at Yankee Stadium.
I smiled at that. How like Daniel.
Kantowicz gave me the time and other particulars. Then, with a nod good-bye, he jumped back toward the information stream. I watched until his avatar melted into the entertainment traffic of the LINK. Part of me knew I should be heading back, but I stood there thinking about Michael. Of course Daniel had given me a prayer about the Archangel Michael – after all, he was the patron saint of cops. But the mention of his name made me wonder where he was and what he thought of my sudden disappearance from Eion's church. Michael might even be looking for me. I should find a way to call him or drop him a message to tell him that I was all right, physically, at least.
Psychologically was another matter entirely. Rebeckah's steady faith and calm pragmatism kept me from dwelling on the rift in my sense of reality that Michael's presence had caused. Rebeckah's wisdom had reassured me that, on some day-to-day level, defining God didn't matter; I still had to face the unsteadying concept that Michael's presence meant there really was a God.
I shook off my growing terror. I had too much to do to waste time worrying about religion. Rebeckah and her team were waiting for me.
I jumped, but was rebuffed by something solid. My avatar landed, sprawling from the impact. I picked myself up and tried to examine what had happened. Reaching out with a tentative hand, I touched an invisible barrier. I frowned. In read-only mode I shouldn't be able to affect anything in the directory, nor should anything be able to touch me. I pushed against the barrier. It stood solid, like a pane of impenetrable glass. It must be a kind of directory guardian, I figured, though I was still at a loss as to why it could affect me.
I sent a message into the hub. Mouse, it's me. Deidre. Call off your guardian.
Mouse is unavailable at this time.
Page? Are you out there? Call off your guardian.
Mouse is unavailable at this time.
Great, I muttered. As I moved to try to feel my way around the mass, it began to shift under my fingers. Hard, but liquid, the guardian moved like muscle beneath my palms. I tried to keep ahold of it, but tiny electric shocks quickly discouraged me. Pulling my hands back, I watched an inky darkness coalesce in the fog-draped, gray expanse of mouse.net. Swirling, the blackness grew until it filled the space above me, obscuring my access to the LINK.
The guardian bobbed overhead strangely, as though mimicking the movements of a blackbird caught in an updraft. Dread filled me. I'd seen a shadow of this creature before.
Phanuel.
The LINK-angel's glossy black feathers materialized in full detail. Black, like raven's wings, they swallowed the light rather than reflecting it. In the center of the dark plumage floated the hooded figure of a man. The tattered cloak hugged his bony frame. I could see the sharp points of his hipbones standing out against a shrunken stomach.
Something moved beneath the robe at his abdomen, and I gritted my teeth at the thought of maggots devouring his exposed entrails. He lifted his head, and I stepped back, unwilling to look into the face of the Angel of Death. Despite my best efforts, I caught sight of thin lips pulled back in a skeletal grin. A spider crawled out of his nose, and I watched in horror as the arachnid scuttled across his cheekbone to disappear into the folds of the hood. After that I kept my eyes focused downward.
A pale, bone-thin hand pointed at my avatar. You do not belong here.
I would have pulled the wire from my receiver in a New York minute if I hadn't thought the shock of resurfacing from outside the LINK would kill me instantly. Despite my fear, I frowned: that was another inconsistency. Mouse.net was outside of the LINK. No LINK-angel should be here, much less acting as a directory guardian.
Dark wings fluttered loudly as Phanuel moved closer. I could smell the odor of funeral incense and freshly upturned earth. Involuntarily, I looked up into his eyes, mere inches from my own. The sockets were bruised and sunken, and I could see something white squirming in their depths. I gasped and stumbled backwards. Cobwebs licked at me, and I swam frantically through their gossamer threads.
Phanuel did not follow.
When his shadow no longer blocked me and the shine of the LINK appeared overhead, I realized I'd escaped. I'd fallen into another directory, one that, apparently, Phanuel didn't guard. Quickly, before some other apparition could appear, I leapt out of Mouse-space onto the LINK.