Tesla "Not now."
It's over, Tesla.
"No.
I want you to know "No, I said, no!"
She heard him keen in her head; the sound not quite human.
"Don't give up," she told him. "It's not... over... yet." He stifled his moans, but she felt his terror in her marrow, as though at the last he was not merely sharing her mind but her body too.
And this was the last, despite her protestations. She had to draw breath: now, or else never. Though the Lix were at her lips, waiting, she had no choice. She opened her mouth, teeth clenched, drawing air between the gaps. ut w re breath could go, so could the finest of the Lix. She felt them sliding between the cracks, under her tongue and down her throat.
Her system revolted. She started to gag, and the reflex bettered her will. Her teeth parted. It was all the Lix needed. they were in her mouth in a moment, filling it up. She bit down on them, tasting their shit and rot, and spitting out what she could. But for every one she expelled, there were two hungry to eat her out from the inside, and willing to risk her teeth to do so.
Gagging, spitting, and thrashing she fought with every ounce of power in her, but the battle was beyond winning. Her throat was choked, her nostrils blocked, her body creaking in the coils of the giant Lix. At the last, hanging on the slivers of consciousness, she thought she heard Raul say: Listen.
She listened. There were voices coming from somewhere in the room.
"Christ Almighty!" one of them said.
"Look there! In the fire!"
Then a cry of anguish, and at the sound she used her last top of energy to turn her head in its direction. Death was almost on her, and her eyes-which had witnessed so many strangenesses in their time, but had always been wedded to the real-were now in extremis, wise to subtle presences. Four of them-all men, all aghast-approaching from the door.
One went to the fire. Two lingered a couple of yards from her. The fourth and oldest, God bless him, went down on his knees beside her, and reached to touch her face. No doubt he intended to soothe her passage from life to death, but his phantom touch did more than that. At his touch she felt the Lix writhe upon her face like cutworms, then soften and liquefy and pour off down her cheeks and neck. Down her throat too, as though their dissolution was contagious. A look of astonishment crossed her liberator's face, but he plainly understood in a moment what power he possessed, because as soon as she drew a breath, he then turned his attention to the Lix that had her in its coils. She raised her head off the ground in time to see the creature rising off her body like a startled cobra, spitting a warning. The phantom was unmoved. He reached out and ran his hand over the Lix's head, almost as though he were stroking it. A shudder passed through its glossy length, and its head began to droop, its filthy anatomy collapsing on itself. The lower jaw softened and ran like molasses; the upper followed moments later, its collapse initiating the dissolution of the beast's entire length. She pulled herself free of its sticky grasp, and as she turned over her system revolted and she puked up the filth that had found its way down her throat. When she looked up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the phantoms were already indistinct, and growing more so as she retreated from their condition.
She had moments, she knew, to make sense of this.
"Name yourselves."
The old man's voice, when it came, was feather-light. "Hubert Nordhoff," he said, "and him'@he pointed to the man at the hearth-"he's Erwin Toothaker."
She was looking in Erwin's direction when she heard another voice: this from behind her.
"When did you learn to raise spirits?"
She'd forgotten Kissoon, in the rush of deliverance. But he hadn't forgotten her. When she looked round at him, he was too astonished by what he'd seen to keep her gaze at bay, and she had a second opportunity to study him in the midst of transformation. He was more naked than he'd been minutes before; much more. All resemblance to Raul had disappeared. In fact, there was barely anything left that was human. The vague shape of a head, formed from a roiling darkness; the last remnants of a ribcage, and a few fragments of leg and arm bones; that was all. The rest-the sinew, the nerves, the veins and the blood that had pulsed in them-had corrupted away.
I think... maybe he's afraid of you, Raul said, his tone astonished. She dared not believe it. Not Kissoon. He was too crazy to be afraid. Look at him, Raul told her. "What am I supposed to be seeing?" Look past the particulars. As she looked, Kissoon spoke again. "You played with me," he said, his tone almost admiring. "You endured the Lix, to prove they were nothing to you."
"You've got the general idea," she said, still trying to do as Raul had instructed, and see what he was so eager she saw.
"Where did you learn to raise spirits?" Kissoon wanted to know.
"Detroit," she said.
"Are you mocking me?"
"No. I learned to raise spirits in the Motor City. Something wrong with that?"
As she spoke, the last portions of Kissoon's usurped anatomy fell away, and with their passing she glimpsed what Raul had already seen. In the center of Kissoon's shadowself, there was another form, glimmering remotely. A spiral, receding from her like a tunnel, as its curves tightened. And at the far end, where her gaze was inexorably drawn, something glittering.
"You don't know what you've done," Kissoon murmured.
His voice shook her from her scrutiny, and she was glad of it. The spiral had claimed her gaze with no little authority. What Kissoon meant by the remark (was he warning her about raising spirits or staring into spirals?) she didn't know; nor was this any time to quiz him. As long as he believed she was a woman who could raise spirits, and might do him harm while he was vulnerable, she might yet escape this room alive.
"Take care-" Kissoon was saying.
"Why's that?" she said, glancing back towards the door. It was probably six, perhaps seven, strides away. If she was to preserve the illusion of authority, she would have to exit without falling flat on her face, which would be a challenge given her trembling limbs.
"If you make any assault upon me now"-he is vulnerable, she thought-"I will have every soul in this city slaughtered. Even for the tiniest harm you do me." So this was the way power treated with power. It was a lesson she might profit from if she had occasion to play bluff with him again.
She didn't reply, however, but pretended to chew the deal over.
"You know I can do it," Kissoon said.
This was true. She didn't doubt him capable of any atrocity. But suppose this was a bluff of his own? Suppose he was so susceptible in his present condition that she might reach into the dark spiral at his core right now, and squeeze the life from him? Don't even think it, Raul said.
Wisdom, no doubt. But oh, she was sorely tempted to try Let's get out while we can, Raul was saying. Tesla? Are you listening to me?
"Yes... " she replied reluctantly. There would never be another opportunity like this, she knew. But Raul's defensive instincts were right. Get out now, and live to fight another day.
There was one last piece of theatrics before she departed, however. She went down on her trembling haunches, and whistled lightly, as if to invisible dogs. She waited a moment, then smiled to welcome her spirits back, and rose again. "Consider this@' Kissoon said as she turned to go.
"What?" "That we're not after all so far apart. You want revelation. So do 1. You want to shake your species up. So do 1. You want power-you already have a little, but a little's never enough-and so do
1. We've taken different paths, but are we not coming to the same spot?"