He laughed. The women echoed the chuckle awkwardly.
“So what’s on your mind, Diana?”
She tried to organize her thoughts, although the way the atmosphere pressed against her made that difficult. Not to mention that she genuinely didn’t know how to voice her concerns.
“It’s Calvin. You do realize he’s going to destroy the world, right?”
Greg offered a patronizing grin. “Ah, there’s your problem. Do you really think that’s what’s going to happen? No wonder you’re so concerned.”
He took a drink of wine, but he did so with agonizing slowness. He picked up the glass, swished the liquid around, sniffed it, took a very slight sip, and set the glass back into its original place with robotic precision.
“Fenris isn’t going to destroy the world. He’s going to purify it. He’s going to strip away all the unnecessary bits and leave us with something better, more beautiful and raw.”
He narrowed his eyes. His grin became more obviously sinister.
“Primal.”
“With all due respect,” said Diana angrily, “what the hell does that even mean?” She was getting sick of this vaguely philosophical nonsense.
Greg was taken aback. “I’ve been more than accommodating to this point, but it’s clear you don’t get it. Perhaps you lack the ability to understand the subtleties—”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap, but it’s just so frustrating.”
“I can imagine.” And for once, he sounded sincere. “Can we cut the bullshit?” he said. “You seem like a good person, and we’re so close to the end that I don’t see any reason not to level with you.”
He stood, picked at something in his teeth.
“It’s all crap. All of it. The cult. This house. All the talk about primordial beauty. It sounds good on paper, and it brings in the cultists, makes everyone feel better, like they’re part of some grand, cosmic life cycle. But it’s complete and utter bullshit. New Agey nonsense that doesn’t mean a damn thing.
“I only come up with it because people can’t handle the truth. Or maybe they just don’t want to hear it. Regardless, I can see that you don’t need me to feed you the standard line. Do you want to know the truth, then?
“The truth is that I have no more control over anything that’s happening than you do. I don’t control Fenris. I don’t exert the slightest influence over him. And I most certainly can’t change hi nature or stop what will happen.”
“But aren’t Calvin and Fenris the same thing?” asked Diana. “Can’t you just talk to Calvin about it?”
“Calvin is just a very small piece of Fenris, and he doesn’t have any more control over the moon god than I do. That’s the truth. Fenris is one entity divided into three aspects. The moon is the physical substance of the creature. Fenris itself is all of its metaphysical bulk. And Calvin, tiny little Calvin, is the creature’s intellect. Divided, each of these aspects is largely harmless. But when joined together, they become an absolute. Unstoppable. Inescapable. A united Fenris will tear this world to pieces, and there’s not a damn thing to be done about it.
“But I have seen the future, and while our universe will be almost destroyed by Fenris’s escape, it will not be irreparably damaged. It will fix itself. The broken threads will wrap themselves into new shapes, new forms. Our world will survive. In some savage form. I’m merely attempting to save as many souls as I can in the aftermath by harnessing the mystical force unleashed to survive the storm of chaos and ensure that some of us come out the other side alive.”
Diana’s vision grew bleary. She had trouble breathing.
“Oh, I can’t guarantee that what people come out the other side will be recognizable as such. In fact, I can say with certainty that to survive the cataclysm we’ll have to change into something else entirely. The survivors will be monsters, but at least something of us will remain. Something deep down. It’s not much.” He shrugged. “But it’s the best we can hope for.”
“But…” Her legs were weak. “But…” She couldn’t think straight.
“Sorry. I guess I should’ve warned you. Only those who are linked with the moon god can tolerate this place for long. Your connection to other forces is going to have adverse side effects.”
Diana stood halfway before falling to the floor.
“Greg, what are you doing?” said Sharon. “This isn’t right.”
He sighed. “Sharon, this woman means well, but she could jeopardize everything. She clearly knows just enough to be dangerous. If she’d been smarter, she wouldn’t have come in here at all. If she’d been dumber, she’d have stayed out of it.”
Diana twitched. She crawled in a random direction, confused by her unreliable senses.
“You said you’d help her understand,” said Sharon.
“I know, and I’m sorry that I lied. But it’s a lie for the greater good. If she interferes, if she disrupts the delicate balance, then Fenris will destroy everything. You know that’s true. You know that this is the right thing to do, no matter how distasteful it might be.”
Diana gurgled. Sharon stopped looking at the pathetic thing.
“We can’t just leave her there.”
“We’ll put her in one of he bedrooms. She’ll be fine once it’s all over.”
They carried her upstairs to one of the nicer rooms and laid her down on the bed.
Diana’s pale flesh was sallow and waxen. If she was trying to speak, her voice came out only as a series of unintelligible noises.
“In a few hours,” he said, “none of this will matter.”
“What about her monsters?” asked Sharon.
“I wouldn’t worry about them. The interference that’s gripped her has probably destroyed their ability to focus as well. And even if they are still alert enough, they can’t come in here.”
“It doesn’t seem right, Greg.”
“Right and wrong won’t matter tomorrow.”
He walked out of the room.
Sharon watched Diana convulse for a few minutes. Her body became a twisted ball of knots as muscles bulged and flexed against her will. Her eyes had rolled back, and she could only drool.
Sharon hated him for it, but Greg was correct.
“I’m sorry.”
Diana gasped and for a moment there was intelligence in her eyes. She grabbed Sharon’s leg, tried to say something, then fell twitching again. Sharon left Diana to struggle with her own broken form.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Vom was back in the closet. He didn’t remember going back to it, but he never did.
He moved some coats aside and cleared away some shoes for a place to sit. He couldn’t see anything while the door was shut, but he didn’t need to. Vom knew the closet well. Knew every pair of shoes, every hanger in it, so he was surprised when something squishy and unexpected got in his way.
“Ow,” said the unexpected thing.
“Zap, is that you?” asked Vom.
“Who else would it be? Where are we?”
“The closet.”
Smorgaz spoke up in the dark. “Your closet?”
Vom pondered. This was new.
Something poked him in the back.
“Watch it!”
“Sorry,” said Smorgaz.
“How did we get in here?” asked Zap.
“I don’t know, but it was crowded enough without the two of you.” Vom shoved Smorgaz, who shoved back. In the struggle, Vom accidentally kicked Zap.
“Hey, watch it!”
“You watch it!” grumbled Vom. “This is my closet.”
“Well, if we’re going to be stuck sharing the damn thing, we’ll have to make the best of it.” Despite Zap’s supernatural vision, he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. For a being capable of glimpsing the hydrogen atoms dancing at the heart of stars, it was disconcerting. He probed the floor with his tentacles. They ran across the cheap carpeting, the old shoes. “Wow. This really is a closet.”