Wild Thing Read online

  But she wasn't a scaredy cat. Uh-uh. She shook her head. I'm not scared. She wasn't frightened. Not really. She pursed her lower lip, keeping her hand pressed up against the glass. Like a shadow of his hand, only smaller.

  Then something happened: wisps of a sort of translucent shimmer began streaming in toward her hand from her side of the window, coiling up and around her arm. Godsson dropped his hand from the glass. A small part of her noticed him making his greeting gesture again, except real slowly, like he was tired. But mostly, she was feeling the shimmer. She stepped back, pulling her hand away, but the ripple in the air kept coming, following her hand, more and more of it. She couldn't see where it was coming from, it was just there. Gradually it grew more real, colder, kind of clinging to her arm even as it sort of swelled, beginning to droop from her arm. And as it did, she started getting a bad feeling. She was really scared now. Like something awful was getting closer and closer to her.

  She looked quickly behind her – but the beige-painted corridor was still empty. Nothing was creeping up on her. Fighting the fear, she turned back around, and suddenly the rippling air blinked, and she sensed three cold eyes staring at her.

  It was too much. She screamed, tearing at it, suddenly frantic, raking it equally with her nails, her anger, and the need to kill the horrible thing. Something inside her seemed to shudder into life. Her anger grew, the feeling inside burning hotter as she worked even harder to tear it apart, kill it. It began writhing as though in pain.

  Finally she stood panting, as the last wisps evaporated. Nothing at all remained of it – only a few long weals on her arms left by her own fingernails showed it had ever been there. She remembered Godsson and glared at him.

  He looked dumbstruck.

  'What was that!' she demanded.

  'You… my….' He looked surprised, maybe even shocked. 'You're not mundane at all, Sara, are you?' he said. 'How did you-'

  He gave her a look like he thought maybe she should be in a cell, too. She ignored it. 'What was it?'

  'Oh. That!' He shook himself, and managed a laugh. 'I'm sorry if I scared you. It was only an illusion.' He looked down at his feet. 'I became angry when you seemed to be saying I couldn't do real magic, and decided to frighten you. I'm sorry, Sara.' He looked up at her, his unlined face open and innocent.

  'It sure felt real.'

  'Well, yes. The best illusions do.'

  She still wasn't convinced it had just been an illusion. It had sure felt real. 'You said the Dragon's barrier stopped your magic going through!'

  'That's true. And my magic didn't go Through.' He smiled. 'It was just an illusion, Sara, not real magic. Are we still friends?'

  She thought about that for a while, then an idea struck her. 'We are if you tell me about your secret work.'

  It was his turn to pause. 'Well… I will tell you what it is, but not any details. Provided you promise to never tell anyone else: not of this conversation, nor of the Illusion I just cast. Especially your uncle. You must promise not to even tell them that you visit me down here. Is it a deal?'

  'Um, okay! Now, what's the secret?'

  'I can only tell you this: that it is the Final Redemption.' He looked very solemn.

  'I don't understand.'

  'You will, Sara. You will. I promise you.'

  She didn't let the matter rest there, but no matter how she argued, she couldn't get any more details from him. Eventually she wrapped herself back up in the heavy, sopping towel and stalked off, deliberately not looking back.

  -

  Godsson hardly noticed, thinking both about what she'd done, and about how utterly oblivious she was to anything beyond herself. She was a good example of humanity's terrible flaw. Self-centered, erratic, emotional.

  An impeccable animal, really.

  But perhaps that gave her a special place in the great plan. As first fuel for the Redemption.

  But how had she dealt with… it? How could she have harmed it? Such creatures were unknown to this world.

  His eyes swept the physical bounds of his room, then deeper senses washed against the cell's Imaginal barriers – those drains and cutoffs that broke the circuit, that earthed the truths that mages called spells. He smiled, imagining their reaction if they knew he'd managed to… avoid those Barriers. At least in one “direction.”

  Crossing to his sleeping pallet, he slipped into a state of deep meditation, then let go of his self and sank into the dissolving chaos below the Imaginal to work a more subtle kind of magic.

  Hours later, with his Self re-formed, he sat up on his simple camp bed, surprise echoing through his mind as he mulled over what he'd learned. He recognized the hand of Harmon's craft, and recognized the patterns of Sara's essence. What he had not expected was to find traces of Dr Alex Harmon's influence in the depths that he had thought only he and the dragon lord could visit; to find connections from Sara into that primal chaos. And especially, one strong connection to something that did not exist. Not yet.

  But what a wonderful opportunity. Perfect, in fact. Though even for him, it would be a challenging piece of work. Still, now he saw a very clear path forward, despite his incarceration.

  -

  That night, at dinner, Sara carefully questioned her uncle, mindful of her promise to Godsson. 'Keepie, are ghosts real?'

  Harmon raised his bushy eyebrows. 'Why, do you think you've seen one? Here, in the Institute?'

  She rolled her eyes. 'No. I was just thinking about the unvisible thing, is it-'

  'Invisible.'

  'Huh?'

  'Not unvisible. Invisible. You were thinking about the invisible thing…?'

  'Yeah. The invisible thing. Is it a ghost? The spirit of a dead person?'

  'No, Sara. Spirits – we call them organic incorporeal beings – are not ghosts. They are not spirits of dead people, but something incorporeal – that is, something non-physical, something Imaginal – either embodied in a location, or drawn into being through a magician's will acting upon a location. There is still argument about which interpretation is correct.'

  He noted her eyes had gone slightly glassy at his explanation. Indeed, she actually shook herself when he stopped talking, and he frowned, mildly irritated. She's only a child, he chided himself.

  'Can you make spirits?'

  '“Summon” them, we say. No, shamans summon spirits. Mages such as myself, with the appropriate procedures, summon inorganic incorp-.' He stopped himself as she started fidgeting. 'Ah, if I learned the appropriate spell, I could summon “elementals.” They are like spirits except they are tied not to locations but to what alchemists called elements: fire, water, earth, or air.'

  'Are they dangerous?'

  'They can be. Yes, any kind of spirit can be dangerous. It depends purely on its potency. How big it is. Small ones are easily dealt with, by anyone, mage or no. It just requires courage and force of will. Larger ones, though, are certainly dangerous. Each in its own way. So much so, that magicians have developed special means to get rid of them. To Banish them.'

  'Can you Vanish them, Keepie?'

  'Banish, not vanish. And yes, Sara, I can. Some of our inmates are very good at Summoning.'

  'Is the un-, um, is the invisible monster something one of the patients summoned? Why don't you just Banish it?'

  Harmon blinked. 'It's too fast for me.'

  She looked doubtful.

  He let his voice sink lower.

  'Nor is it something a patient summoned. Whatever it is, it is more subtle and dangerous than that. I am not even entirely sure it is either spirit or elemental. I suspect it may be some other kind of incorporeal being: some new kind.'

  'Ohh! Does it have three eyes?'

  He blinked, again, several times, impressed afresh by the imaginative capabilities of children. Then nodded, solemnly. 'It may well have three eyes, Sara, yes.'

  'Wow!'

  For a while, she busied herself with her food, thinking hard as she sliced the processed meat, swirled it in the grav
y, and followed it with an equal amount of green beans. At last she looked up.

  'Do you think it could be Godsson's?'

  Harmon carefully failed to react to her bombshell: that she had met and spoken with their most dangerous inmate. How on earth had she bypassed their security? He blinked. She really was quite remarkable.

  'Could Godsson summon up something that wasn't a spirit or an ella-mental?'

  By god, if anyone could, thought Harmon, horrified by the idea, it would be Godsson. Or the Dragon Lord. Although, thanks to the Wards around his cell, Godsson could only summon them inward, upon himself. And except during his mostly-annual episodes, he was not so insane as to do that. Only when he felt he deserved such punishment. At each anniversary of the killing of d'Artelle.

  But Sara still waited for an answer. He considered. It certainly made a good story, fitted his plans, and would also amplify the self-generated stress from her own imagination.

  'Well, the Barriers around his cell are enormously powerful. So he should not be able to.' He shrugged. 'Although with Godsson, it is very hard to say what is possible or impossible.'

  Sara nodded, looking fully satisfied with the new information, and went back to her food, thoughtfully.

  For his part, he took the opportunity provided by her inattention to slip his senses to the Imaginal, re-cast the mindmeld, and check that his recent alteration was still secure, still feeding any fear back into the part of the brain which – he hoped – would form a complex to focus her will inward, increasing the pressure necessary for her eventual Unfolding.

  Indeed, it looked surprisingly well-developed and healthy. As if exercised regularly.

  He slid his psychic probes back out, well-satisfied. She was sitting a little stiffly, he noticed. Her thoughts had slowed, too, growing strangely heavy. Time to withdraw. He checked the new mental complex one last time. Really, it looked remarkably complete, perhaps even more intricate than he had anticipated. As if she herself had been extending it.

  Amazing, how potent a child's imagination could be.

  Briefly, he allowed himself to consider the possibility that the “invisible monster” was something more than merely his spur-of-the-moment invention. The possibility, even, that it really was some creature summoned by Godsson.

  He shuddered. Fortunately though, even could Godsson summon something unnatural from the realm below the Imaginal – from the collective unconscious – he could only bring it forth within his own cell. Within the layers of those impossibly-potent Barriers which Lao Pi Shen, with his own small assistance, had created over five years ago; which still stood, as firm and strong as the day they'd set them in place.

  That was something he checked at every visit.

  Without fail.

  Perhaps it was time for an unscheduled visit. Just to be sure. Though first, he would review the security files, since clearly she had somehow spoken to him. Perhaps she had distracted Shanahan, then used the comm channel in his office?

  The video from Godsson's cell should tell him.

  Ten minutes later, Harmon sat back in his chair, astonished. She had visited him physically.

  He didn't understand the charade with the broken cleaning bot, nor why there was no sound for the video, but those things were of lesser importance.

  It also explained the weals on her arm that he had casually healed before dinner. “Scratched it in the forest,” indeed. But what had Godsson said to her, for her to react with such horror? He suspected her reaction was in some way related to his own recent alteration of her mental landscape.

  It seemed that Godsson was now providing an excellent stress source. As well as stimulating her considerable imagination.

  And Godsson himself had been more engaged, this year. Less aloof. Presumably, a result of her visits.

  No, the most intriguing thing had been Godsson's reaction. What had Sara done to so astonish him? It was as if, by tearing at her arm, she had subverted Godsson's own delusion.

  He considered. Their interaction clearly benefited both. It would be important for them to feel it was their secret.

  He would simply monitor. And watch carefully what grew from their relationship.

  Chapter 13

  Sara liked to roam the Forest – which had turned into the Jungle, now it was summer – with her bow and arrows. She got to know the busy beetles, the always-foraging and hunting ants, and the birds in their huge variety.

  The birds especially loved the blackberry vines with their sweet fruit – if you could avoid the horridly prickly branches – and the much easier grape vines with their juicy berries. She also noticed how the squirrels and the birds seemed to get annoyed with each other when the berries plumped up. Mostly they'd squabble over the grapes though, since the birds took the outermost blackberries, while the squirrels took the ones deeper in the needled thickets of twisty whip-like branches. Both groups seemed happy enough with that arrangement. Sara only got the left-overs.

  Sometimes She would toy with them, making the birds drop the berries so the squirrels could snatch them up; or tugging a branch aside so a leaping squirrel would miss, and fall down into the tangled, spiky vines. It made Sara giggle, seeing the animals tripping or fumbling. Though once, a crow got caught and started panicking, and that hadn't been funny. She'd had to burrow in through the thorny stems and try to get it free without hurting it, while it flapped about like crazy and hurt itself more.

  As she'd awkwardly crawled free, getting tugged and scratched by the brambles while the frantic bird squirmed and panicked in her hands, She got cross.

  «Don't be silly. They're just animals. And they're taking berries you could be eating. It serves them right!»

  Don't be so mean! She tried to ignore Her while keeping her head down, wriggling under the prickly whip-like branches with the large bird clutched in her hands, its heart beating so fast she was afraid it'd burst.

  «I'm not mean. Nature's mean. Besides, it makes them stronger. The survival of the fittest. The fittest get fattest. So I'm really helping them.»

  Sometimes, She seemed really mean. It was much nicer being with Faith.

  It was always best with Faith by her side. As a proper guard dog, she was both real good at staying quiet, and also great at spotting animals – and could even shine a red dot on them if you gave her an exaggerated-enough 'Where?' look. They hunted real well together.

  Though she had to admit it hadn't been such a good idea to hunt Faith herself.

  To start with, it had been pretty easy: after all, she knew Faith's routine and the areas she was ’sposed to patrol. The hardest bit in that part had been not giggling when Faith padded past the bushes where she'd been hiding. Downwind of her, of course.

  Sneaking out from the bush silently had been a bit tricky, but she'd thought ahead and made a kind of little burrow on the side away from the track, and had also brushed the leaves away when she'd wriggled in to wait in the first place.

  It had been harder to follow her quickly enough while staying silent, since Faith moved pretty fast. But from watching how her companion maneuvered through the undergrowth, she'd learned to keep pretty quiet herself. And to freeze, the instant she saw Faith's ears twitch in her direction.

  The hardest part had been catching up to Faith without her friend sensing her. Especially since she had to concentrate on where the wind was blowing from: Faith's nose was practically magical.

  In the end, she knew she'd have to cheat if she was going to successfully Pounce her. So when they reached the area of rocky hills behind the Institute, instead of following along behind, she clambered up and across, waiting on the small bluff on the other side for Faith to come trotting into view along the trail.

  She had to keep her head down, since she knew Faith's laser eyes were real sharp, and super good at detecting movement.

  She shut her own eyes while she waited, concentrating extra hard on her other senses. Her fingers and limbs were trembling, a tingle thrumming through them, so sharp it was alm
ost distracting.

  Finally, she heard the softest padding sound; then nothing; then the padding sound again, much closer. She'd have to time it, she realized, picturing Faith trotting along. She tensed, readying herself to spring.

  Three, two, one-

  She leaped, clearing the rocks, Faith immediately below her. She just had time to think, Perfect!

  In slow motion she saw Faith stiffen, the red glow from her eyes brightening, the head turning toward her even as the animal twisted and leaped sideways, dodging as her laser mounts snapped out, already aiming…

  Sara felt her eyes widen as she suddenly realized this had been a very bad idea. Curling and contorting, she tried to wrench herself around, away…

  The blast seared through her shirt, rock exploding from behind her. Faith yelped, and then Sara was crashing down onto her friend, knocking her off her feet. Both of them went rolling and tumbling down the rocky hillside, the hot barrel of the laser burning her as they jumbled together.

  She came to, to Faith's distressed licking of her face, and for a moment she wasn't sure where she was or what had happened. Faith whined, so she cuddled her to reassure her everything was all right.

  Her back and sides really stung, though, and she had scrapes and bruises on her hips, elbows, and forearms, she saw. What…?

  Oh. That's right.

  Once Faith had calmed down enough, Sara stood up to check out her shirt. Astonishingly, most of the right side was simply gone. The edge was just a little bit dark, hardly even looking burned. More like it had been cut. 'Wow, Faith, you sure have a powerful laser, don't you?'

  Faith whined again, saying she was awful sorry. But then looked annoyed.

  'Yeah, okay, I guess that was pretty dumb,' Sara admitted. 'I just thought…'

  From the look Faith was still giving her, she knew she'd better just hug her again. So she did, kneeling down. Her side, and back, and arms stung, but she concentrated on reassuring her best friend.

  Faith yipped – and when she pulled back to see what was wrong, stared at her real seriously. Then, when she still looked confused, Faith's expression grew impatient. She pointed her nose back up the hill, and finally, put her red laser dot on a particular point far above them.