Angry, Kyle tried to shout at the spirit in his mind, but the cry went nowhere. There was no connection between them. No channel, no empathy, nothing. Kyle stared at Seeks-the-Moon, and remembered the emptiness he'd felt behind the dumpster. And the emptiness he felt now…
"You're free…" he said, slowly.
Seeks-the-Moon glanced away, and then nodded. "Your injuries were great. I believe you came as close to death as someone could without dying. You lived," he said, "but I became free."
"I see," said Kyle, and the spirit tilted his head slightly, moving his eye out of the shaft of light. It still gleamed back at Kyle, reflecting the light that reached it.
"What will you do?" Seeks-the-Moon asked him after a moment
"What will I do? I don't understand."
"Will you attempt to regain control of me?"
Kyle stared as the spirit went on speaking.
"You created me. You have the right"
"I don't think I could."
"That doesn't matter. What matters is whether you want to."
Kyle lay back down on the bed and brought his arm up across his eyes. What did he want? What could he do? What had happened? "I don't know,” he said. "I need time to think." He needed real sleep.
"And the longer you think, the more you will heal, and the stronger you will be," said Seeks-the-Moon.
"Yes," said Kyle. And I'll have gained the strength to contest you, Kyle thought. And you know that
But there was silence, and the spirit allowed him to sleep.
The next time he awoke, suddenly, his mind rushing blindly between the last pieces of a dream and reality, there was a woman sitting in the chair Seeks-the-Moon had been occupying. She seemed familiar, and in the confusion and the dim reddened light that slipped in from outside, she was Beth. He moved toward her, and she faded away, slipping into the shadows of the chair as he woke fully.
Kyle shook his head and ran his fingers through the days of beard growth on his face and through the dirty, greasy tangle that was his hair. He felt rested, but there was still a dull ache through his body, but only that. He turned his senses inward and examined himself. He was immediately surprised. The deep wounds he had felt while lying on the street were gone, healed, no longer anything more than sharp echos in his flesh. Even his leg was healed, the bone joined and solid again. He could tell, though, that it would still be painful for a few more days at the very least.
He felt strong, or at least stronger, and very hungry. From outside came the sound of gunshots, three of them in quick succession, coming from perhaps a block or two away. Moving as carefully and quietly as he could, Kyle swung his legs off the bed and stood.
Again, he was surprised at the strength in his limbs. Looking down at his body, he noticed for the first time that he was wearing somebody else's clothes, but he felt each of his magical foci present, except for the knife. Despite his apparent strength and health, he moved carefully to the window and parted the dulled and dirty blinds. It was sunset, nearly twilight, and the street was empty but for the blackened and charred wreck of a Honda minicar turned on its side against the far curb. That and dozens of bright red sheets of paper that caught the wind and swirled.
If this side of the street matched the one opposite, Kyle thought he must be in a room on the second floor over a small storefront. The ones he could see across the way showed signs of major looting and destruction, their windows smashed and doors flung open.
"You don't want to stand there too long," came the voice of Seeks-the-Moon behind him.
Kyle let the blinds close and turned toward the spirit.
Moon was standing next to the chair. "How do you feel?"
"Better than I should, I suspect," Kyle said. "Like I've been through a car crash, but I walked away."
He nodded. "It's been a few days."
"How long since I last woke up?"
Seeks-the-Moon frowned slightly and looked away, thinking. "Two days."
Kyle sat down on the edge of the bed. He glanced toward the window and then back at the spirit. "What the frag is going on?" he asked quietly.
"You found the main nest, certainly for the region, maybe even for the whole continent," he said. "When you attacked they…"
The spirit looked away for a moment.
Kyle leaned closer. "What?"
"They spread," said Seeks-the-Moon, still looking away.
"What do you mean?"
Seeks-me-Moon shrugged. "They're insects. Their nest was disturbed. They sought shelter elsewhere."
"Oh Jesus…"
The spirit nodded. "They're all over the city, and many people are dead or else wish they were."
"Aren't the police or corps able to control them?" Kyle asked him.
"There are thousands."
"What about the government?"
'They have done something," said Seeks-the-Moon. They have sealed off the city."
"What? That doesn't make sense," said Kyle.
Seeks-the-Moon pointed at a folded, water-stained sheet of bright red paper sitting on the bedstand. "They dropped those all over the city."
Kyle took the sheet and carefully unfolded it, suddenly afraid. It said:
People of Chicago!
By order of the federal government. This city has been quarantined until further notice. Remain in your homes. Stay off the streets unless absolutely necessary. Watch for food and supply drops in your area.
Please do not try to leave the area. The government is taking every measure to control the creatures that threaten you. Until your safety can be guaranteed please remain in your homes and follow all instructions.
Kyle shook his head. It made no sense. Why weren't government troops patrolling the streets? "Why haven't they declared martial law and moved in?" he asked. "Why did they seal it off?"
"How were they to fight?" Seeks-the-Moon asked. "These things are not of this world. Spirits have nothing to fear from bullets or hand grenades. The soldiers could not defeat what they were not strong enough to even fight."
"The Eagle Security troopers I was with fought them," Kyle said angrily. “The Knight Errant troops were fighting them."
"There were many more of the police than there were of the spirits," Seeks-the-Moon said. "And the Knight Errant soldiers are dead."
Kyle started and stared at him.
The spirit nodded. "You, and maybe some others, though I didn't see them, survived."
"How many have gotten out?" Kyle asked.
"None-the soldiers are dead."
"No, I mean how many people have gotten out through the lines?"
"Few."
"Few?"
"The government isn't letting anyone out. They're afraid of contamination."
Kyle started to reply, but then shut his mouth quickly as the truth sank in. "They can't tell who's been possessed by the bugs," he said slowly. "They have no way of knowing who's clean and who's not…"
"A magician could tell," said Seeks-the-Moon. "As we did. But how many do they have? How good are they? Can they trust the results? What if they're wrong?"
"This is insane…"
The spirit shrugged. "They're afraid."
Kyle turned his eyes toward the window and the city outside. "We have to be sure they know what's happened." He looked at Seeks-the-Moon. "You could fly through astral space to the lines and talk to them."
"No, I cannot do that."
Kyle stared at him.
"I am at risk, even now," Moon said. "And in some ways I am a risk to you as well. The insects can smell me. If I were to attempt to fly through astral space, they would sense me and be on me in an instant." The spirit paused, and then said, "I have tried."