Dearest Mother of Mine (Overworld Chronicles) Page 2

  "By your command, sir." The golem gave me a curious look before getting back into the elevator and disappearing behind the closing doors.

  Deciding to see where this went and hoping desperately it didn't end with a horrible demise, I took the proffered seat and met Mr. Gray's eyes. "It's nice to finally meet the man who's been trying to kill me," I said, somehow managing to keep my voice friendly, and my lips from curling into a snarl. His gray men had attacked me and Elyssa in the Grotto as we tracked down an assassin who'd marked my father for death. His golems had tried to run me over with a garbage truck not long after. Seeing the puppeteer behind the attacks felt surreal. Controlling his surrogates in their attempts to kill me must have been like one big video game for this man. Except he had infinite lives to lose, and I had only one.

  He regarded me for a moment more before speaking. "You are a dangerous force in any equation, Mr. Slade. Time and time again, you have outdone my greatest expectations, and lived up to my worst fears."

  To hear that he, of all people, feared me bolstered me slightly, though it should have scared the ever-loving poo out of me. "You and your angel comrades want Armageddon," I said. "It sounds like a really bad deal for the billions of people in this world."

  A smile crept over his face. "Your assumption is incorrect." He folded his hands atop the large executive desk. "True, I once enjoyed the fruits of enslaving the people of this world. I once commanded armies of humans, created legions of my minions, and reveled in the art of war." His eyes seemed to look into the past. "It was all a game. A meaningless way to pass the time." His unnerving gaze found me once more as he leaned forward. "I learned better."

  I flinched in surprise. "Meaning, you don't want to take over the world again?"

  He waved a hand toward the skyline visible through the huge windows. "In a way, I already have. I own businesses, which span the world. I employ thousands of humans, driving their daily lives with commerce. I revel in the battle of business, of outthinking my opponents and crushing them with wits." He flicked his hand, as if dismissing it. "I do not wish to see this mortal realm destroyed any more than you."

  "Why try to kill me then?" I asked, even more puzzled. "It's not like I'm threatening your employees' health benefits."

  He smiled and leaned back. "No. You represent chaos. You represent uncertainty. Quite simply, you are a force which could tip the precarious balance of the future."

  I felt an eyebrow rise at his statement. "Um, and Daelissa doesn't? She's hell-bent on repairing the Grand Nexus and letting in the rest of your buddies. I'm just trying to stop her."

  He seemed to mull that over for a moment, his figure growing still. "You have proven useful in delaying her plans. While her attempts at throwing the Overworld"—he paused, a corner of his mouth lifting in obvious amusement—"into disarray have been childish and ill-considered, I have agents working to undo her feeble manipulations. Though you have done well in thwarting her, you are more like a bull in a china shop, wrecking everything with brute force. My subtle tugs on the threads would have been more than enough to undo her damage."

  My nose wrinkled. "Wait a minute—are you blaming me for letting her get the rune?"

  He lifted an eyebrow. "Your ignorance only compounds the problem, young man. She does not possess the rune and will not. At least not until I deem it time to set the wheels in motion which will create an absolute stalemate. I will create the balance I desire, and she will be undone."

  The man was so full of himself he reminded me a lot of Underborn, the most notorious assassin in the Overworld and a great lover of manipulation. It raised a suspicion in me that Underborn might be the human version of Mr. Gray. Or maybe—"Do you employ Underborn?"

  Surprise flickered across his face for the briefest second before disappearing into his poker face. "My business dealings are none of your concern—"

  "Ah, so you do," I said, leaning forward with a grin. "It makes perfect sense for one big manipulator to use another." A smug feeling bolstered my grin. "Perfect balance between the dark and the light. I guess that's why they call you Mr. Gray."

  "An apt description, Mr. Slade. You are, however, still woefully ignorant."

  "Dude, I'm only eighteen. You're like eighteen-zillion years old. I would hope you know a lot more than me." I crossed a leg, attempting to give the impression I was more in control of the situation than I was. "Fill me in, then. Maybe I'll agree with you and let things with Daelissa and the Conroys go. I'd like nothing better than to relax without wondering when the next wave of creeps is about to beat the crap out of me."

  He returned a level look, which seemed to bore into my very soul, as if deciding whether he should kill me now, or simply kick me out of his building. "There is an aura about you, Mr. Slade. A peculiar magnetism that makes me want to trust you."

  I almost made a joke about my deodorant, but figured a being like this wouldn't particularly appreciate it. I took a deep breath and put on my best sincere look. "How can I stay out of your way if I don't know what to watch out for? Or are you afraid to tell me because you're really up to no good?"

  "In truth, I see little disadvantage to informing you," he said. "Though I must deflate your sense of self-importance first." He stood, and walked to the window, staring out. "You have only a tiny notion of the scale of Daelissa's manipulations, or how many I have defused over the years. Your mind cannot even conceive the complexity of my operations. We are reaching a critical juncture. Others of my kind who survived the Desecration grow stronger with every passing day. Most of them wish a return to the old days. Others simply wish to return home to regain their dwindling sanity."

  "Desecration? Are you talking about when the Grand Nexus blew up and husked everyone?"

  He nodded.

  "I've seen how crazy Daelissa is," I said, not giving him a chance to change the subject. "Are you losing your mind, too?"

  "No. Balancing the light with the dark keeps me sane." He clasped his arms behind his back. "The others regard the dark as filthy and won't touch it. That is why they lose their grasp on reality. They refuse to draw upon both essences, even though it happens naturally in our home realm."

  I felt myself slipping into confusion, as I usually did when trying to understand the difference between the dark and the light. In my world, it was cut and dry—good was light, and dark was evil. Not to the angels. "What's with the dark and the light with you guys? Darklings, Brightlings—what's it all mean?"

  Mr. Gray turned from the window, an amused expression on his face. "Is that not always the question, Mr. Slade? I suppose I should make allowances for one such as you—an entity of three worlds. Part Seraphim, part Daemos, and raised as a human—you are unique. Your sister was raised to believe only in the word of Daelissa, and lacks the perspective you gained." He walked to a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of amber liquid. "Care for a drink, Mr. Slade?"

  "I'm underage."

  The Seraphim raised an eyebrow. "You see? Human perspective. It is, perhaps, one reason you're such an agent of chaos." He took a sip. "There are two primary essences in this universe: dark and light. Our souls are the containers of this essence, which gives us the true spark of life. Even though the aether in the air around us and in the ley lines beneath us roars with this lifeblood, there is something about the soul that transforms it into rarified form. As aether, we use it to wield magic. As part of a soul, it is something quite different."

  I'd made a tenuous connection between aether and the two spectrums. After all, I'd seen plenty of ultraviolet, white, and even gray clouds of aether floating in the air when I switched to my incubus sight. I'd also wondered if it had anything to do with soul essence, given the little I knew about how angels fed. Daelissa had fed on Elyssa once, drawing light essence from her. But I'd seen Meghan feed Nightliss glowing white soul essence as well.

  "I'm following you," I said, only partly lying.

  He nodded. "Neither the dark nor the light is evil, in and of itself. All of my ki
nd are capable of feeding from either spectrum, but as we age, our bodies naturally take on an affinity for one or the other."

  I waited, expecting a shocking revelation. His matter-of-fact explanation left me feeling disappointed. "That's it? Why do Brightlings think Darklings are evil? Why did the Brightlings treat the Darklings like slaves?"

  "Quite simply, prejudice," he said.

  I thought back to everything I'd been through. To the strange visions I'd suffered, demanding I choose either the light or the dark. His explanation made no sense in that context. In other words, Mr. Gray was hiding something from me. I waffled, uncertain if I should call him out on this. Even if he knew the true meaning behind the whole Dark-versus-Light thing, would he tell me?

  Mr. Gray took another sip of his drink. "There is, however, a much grander scale to this, as I'm sure you've realized." His eyes met mine. "The choice in Foreseeance Forty-Three Eleven pointed to a choice between the dark and the light. As Lornicus stated, it is my belief the conditions for the foreseeance have been met. The decision was made. You were not the one who decided."

  This was something I already knew, or at least those of us in my extended family had surmised. I'd had a chance to betray Ivy. She'd had a chance to let me die. In both cases, we'd chosen each other. Whether that meant our choices were a wash or not, I had no idea.

  He paused, as if letting the import of his words sink in. I wanted to hear what he thought before I said anything.

  "Which side did she choose?" I asked.

  "As with any foreseeance, it is rather unclear." Mr. Gray finished his drink, and set the glass down on the granite bar countertop. "Though the universe has long waxed and waned between periods where one essence was slightly more powerful than the other, it has enjoyed a remarkable period of relative neutrality."

  "Between good and bad?" I asked.

  "Good and bad are moral absolutes, Mr. Slade. I thought you understood they bear no connection to the Murk and the Brilliance." Despite his rebuff, his face held no disappointment. "Darklings bear the mark of the Murk. Their wings are ultraviolet. Their magic utilizes the dark spectrum of aether more easily than the light. The Brightlings are the opposite."

  "So, we're not talking Yin and Yang here," I said, confused.

  He traced the air with a finger, forming a perfect circle of pale light. He drew a line down the center, flicked a hand. One side filled in ultraviolet, the other pure white. "Is this what you imagine the balance to look like?" he said.

  I almost blurted out a resounding yes but, miraculously, managed to keep my mouth shut to allow my brain a few extra seconds of processing. I only needed to consider the speaker to realize what he thought the balance looked like. "Everyone carries a bit of the Murk and Brilliance in them," I said. "That would mean we're all mostly gray."

  He looked almost as pleased as one of my professors when I managed to say something smart. "Precisely. Too much of one or the other causes imbalance. This causes actions which one might judge as good or evil. Imbalance is imperfection."

  "What you're saying is the universe is fifty shades of gray?"

  "What I am saying, Mr. Slade, is an oversimplification. These two colors are simply the way our eyes translate the two most primordial forces in the universe." He folded his arms across his chest. "Creation and Destruction."

  I almost made a quip about the good versus evil analogy being spot-on, though technically, neither of those forces was good or bad within themselves. "So, which is what?" I asked.

  "The Murk creates. The Brilliance destroys," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "The Murk is cold like space, the Brilliance burns like the sun."

  "Considering what you and your Brightling pals did when you were in control, I suppose I could see that," I said. They'd nearly wiped out human civilization with their war games. "If the Brightlings are so big into destruction, how'd they manage to build the arches and the Grand Nexus?"

  "The Brightlings did not build the arches," he said.

  I raised an eyebrow. "The Darklings did?"

  He shook his head. "The Grand Nexus already existed. We merely found it."

  I felt my mouth drop open. "But that would mean…"

  "We are not alone in this universe, Mr. Slade."

  Chapter 3

  Mr. Gray checked his watch. "I'm afraid we've run out of time."

  I gulped, and wondered if this was it for me. Then again, why would he go through the trouble of educating me if he only meant to kill me? "I still have questions," I said, deciding to press my luck.

  "I'm sure you do. I am undecided about your future." He pressed a button on a phone.

  "Yes, Mr. Gray?" asked a woman on the other end.

  "Please inform the pilots I will be up to the helipad in five minutes."

  "Immediately, Mr. Gray," she said.

  "Another reason I'm letting you stay free, Mr. Slade, is this: Though the foreseeance seems to have concluded, it does not mean your presence is inconsequential. You may yet have a role to play. Until I determine what that role is, I am unwilling to cut your thread short or obstruct it."

  "Gee, thanks, Methuselah," I said, heaping scorn into my words. During a conversation with Mr. Bigglesworth, Ivy's deceased shape-shifting pal, I'd figured out Mr. Gray's real name. If I'd expected a big reaction from him, he left me disappointed.

  "I haven't heard that name for a very long time," he said, without putting any particular emphasis or surprise into his tone. He touched a button on his desk phone. "Lornicus, our guest is ready to depart. Please collect him, and return him home."

  "At once, sir," came the golem's nasal voice.

  "What's in this for you?" I asked, trying to glean a little more information before Lornicus collected me. "Are you really happy playing human? Or do you enjoy playing the role of fate more?" His talk of snipping threads and manipulating events to suit his purpose struck me as awfully conceited.

  "As I said, Mr. Slade, our time has run out. Until I know more, I see little value informing you further."

  Someone knocked on the double doors. A woman opened them. "The pilots are ready, sir."

  "Very good." He looked at me. "Until the next time, Mr. Slade." Mr. Gray left, closing the doors behind him.

  A split second later, the elevator dinged, and an anxious-looking Lornicus emerged. He raised an eyebrow. "You are still alive. I suppose it's a sign things went better than expected."

  "What, did you really think he'd kill me?" I said, anger flaring. I was tempted to throw him out the plate glass window.

  "I determined the possibility of his killing you to be very slight—no more than a thirty percent probability."

  "You call that slight?" I said. "Maybe you need to take math again."

  "I've learned a great deal from observing my creator," the golem said. "Though he has a keen eye when it comes to the big picture, I believe he leaves cards unused, avenues unexplored. As the Cataclyst, you have great power to effect change."

  "Why do you keep calling me that?"

  The golem tilted his head slightly. "You are a catalyst, a prime reactive in events leading to a possible cataclysm. I have heard others refer to you in this way, and believe it's an apt descriptor."

  "What others?" I asked.

  "Why, the others controlling the game," he said, as if it should make all the sense in the world.

  "Names, Lornicus. I want to know names."

  "Daelissa, Jeremiah Conroy, Underborn, and some leaders of the primary supernatural factions." He tapped his chin in thought. "I am certain there are more, though knowing their names will make no difference."

  "I'm nobody's pawn," I said, slashing the air with a hand, even though I knew full well I'd been played time and time again by people like Underborn, assassin and master manipulator.

  "You are a reactant," Lornicus said. "When something affects you, your response tilts the balance. Because you are the Cataclyst, your decisions impact the future in interesting ways."

  "I don't want to deal wi
th this crap," I said. "I'm a simple kind of guy. Give me my family, my friends, and leave me alone."

  "And to hell with the world, Mr. Slade?"

  I clenched my teeth. "Obviously, if angels enslave the human race it's going to affect my happy place. If Mr. Gray really wants to keep Daelissa from completing her diabolical plans, then he can handle it so I don't have to."

  "You're still posed with rather serious obstacles when it comes to your family, however." The golem seemed quite smug at this statement. He motioned me into the elevator. "I have arranged transportation for you to a destination of your choosing."

  "Queens Gate is fine." I stepped into the elevator with him, my insides roiling at his statement about my family. The golem sure had a way of spoiling my holiday cheer, especially since I knew he was right. What information did he have? Could he help me rescue my mother and Ivy? I sure as hell didn't have a plan. I didn't even know where the Conroys lived, or if they kept my mother in the same location as Ivy.

  I remained silent as the elevator descended. Lornicus seemed content to leave me to my thoughts. Fantasies of having Mom and Ivy home for the holidays swirled in my head, warm fuzzy feelings mingling with ice cold reality. The golem probably had information that could lead me directly to them. Why would he have gone through all the trouble to kidnap me unless he wanted to use me in some way?

  The doors dinged open to a tunnel stretching into the distance. A sleek, floating platform of some shiny metallic substance hovered a few feet off the ground.

  "Where are we?" I asked.

  "Not far from an arch which will return you to Queens Gate. Never worry, you are quite safe." Lornicus motioned for me to board the craft.

  I stepped aboard, keeping a wary eye out, but saw no other doors in the tunnel from which gray men might spring. The shuttle whisked us down the tunnel, during which time Lornicus busied himself checking an arcphone, tapping out what looked like emails until we stopped at a cavernous room with an Obsidian Arch dominating the center.