Lyle followed at a short distance behind. “As you wish.” He muttered.
******
Faye was sitting with her back toward the wall, meditating in her true form. The water she had used to cause a storm within the four walls the night before had all but vanished. What remained was an overturned, sodden pillow and mattress, strewn across the metal floor.
“Faye!” Terry shouted, banging her fist against the glass.
The water elemental winced at the sudden noise. Opening her eyes, she glowered at Terry, angry at the interruption. “Alchemist...” she muttered flatly. She saw Lyle too, though he hung back at a distance.
“We need to talk.”
“Soon,” she replied, closing her eyes once more. She turned her head back round so it was facing forward. “I am still meditating.”
This time Terry dragged metal clad fingers across the glass; causing it to screech.
Faye snapped out of her meditation and covered her ears until Terry stopped. She glared at the youngster.
“Not later.” Terry said, lowering her arm. “Now.”
Faye inclined her head but did not make a move to speak to the Alchemist person-to-person. “Has what I told your uncle upset you?” she asked.
“No, because I don’t believe you and I want to know why you have been lying about everything since you arrived.”
She smirked. “Have you asked Darius about what I said?”
“No.”
“Why not? I thought it would be the first thing he would have told you when he came here, considering who you are Terrifallo.”
Terry stood her ground. “I’ll be talking to him soon enough.”
That self-assured smirk, the one Terry had seen moments earlier and the night before played across Faye’s lips again. “And no doubt he will tell you something completely different. Tell me, would you really believe what he has to say?”
“Probably not but then again I have no reason to trust either of you right now.”
Defiant eyes lifted up to her. “Well that is your problem, not mine.”
Terry held her gaze. “What happened to you?”
Faye stood and strode elegantly toward the glass that separated prisoner and captor. “The world has changed and so have I.” She looked Terry up and down, an unsettling look. “As have you.”
“I’ve grown up over the last ten years while you’ve lost your mind.”
“No. I have also grown up.” She spat defiantly. Turning away, she began to pace the length of the glass. “For years I was sympathetic to mankind but all they keep doing is destroying the planet. They are poisoning the world’s oceans despite their constant promises to change their ways. They must be stopped!”
“And you really think you can kill them all by yourself?”
Faye turned to face the Alchemist, her eyes burning brightly. “That day I left. The day I diffused into the sea. I became one with it and I learned how to control it.”
Terry slowly shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want, I have the power.” She boasted, raising her chin in an air of authority.
Terry squinted at her dubiously. “So you’re on a crusade to destroy the world?”
“No, my dear, I’m here to save the world from them.”
Terry shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“You’re stuck inside a cell half a mile underground and no one knows that you are here. As far as I’m concerned you’re in no position to be making threats.”
Faye simply smirked at her before turning away.
“Why did you tell Lyle that my father had declared war on the south?” Terry called after her.
“Because it’s true.” She replied, not looking back at her once as she made her way to the rear of the cell.
Terry shook her head again. “You know what I think. I think you came here to tell us all this nonsense so that we would go home, where we would find out that it was a lie.”
“And why would I do that?” she called back.
“So that there would be no-one here to stop you doing what you really came here to do.”
“Believe what you will Alchemist but everything I have told you is true.” That said Faye sat down and resumed her meditation.
Terry turned away from the glass. She exchanged glanced with her uncle as they both departed but neither said a word.
******
Water dripped down every rock face and pooled in every crevice. Deep underground, the air was cold and damp, like any other mineshaft on the planet. But unlike any other on the world, this one harboured a very precious commodity.
The gears and pulleys on the elevator crunched to a halt as it reached the bottom of the shaft. Rufus was the first out, sliding back the metal grate and stepping to one side to let his guest take the lead.
“Thank you.” Mr Crombie said politely as he stepped passed. He gazed around the tunnel ahead of him. It ran off into the distance, was well lit, and otherwise unremarkable.
“This way please.” Rufus said, gesturing for his guest to follow. They were flanked by two of the miners.
After a short walk they arrived at a large, underground laboratory. The rock had been carved out to suit the needs of the operation that they were undertaking down here. Time consuming and costly, Mr Crombie idly thought. Not like it mattered to him though, if Mr Trotsky’s claims of this new, precious metal were accurate.
If it was rare as Rufus claimed it was and as flexible, it would be worth more than any even platinum.
“This is it.” Rufus said, walking over to a tank. In it sat an oblong, uneven, dull coppered block of metal. One of the laboratory staff handed it carefully through robotic arms inside the tank.
“Is it radioactive?” Mr Crombie asked, concerned by the sight of the thick, reinforced glass.
Rufus shook his head. “No, not at all but I would not recommend holding it.”
Mr Crombie shot him a deeply concerned look. “What do you mean?”
Rufus considered his next words carefully. “Mr Crombie, the reason why this metal is so flexible and could be used in other materials is because it is in a sense alive.”
Mr Crombie stared at him incredulously. “Do not treat me like a fool Mr Trotsky. Say what you mean.”
Rufus shook his head. “I do not treat you as a fool sir, what I am telling you, is true. But I wanted you to see it rather than explain it in my office.”
“Why?”
“Because otherwise you would never have believed me.” He gestured to the lab assistant who nodded. Controlling the robotic arms, she opened up a small hatch to another cubicle inside the tank. “Watch.” said Rufus, leaning closer. A white mouse scurried out of the box and into the central tank.
Mr Crombie watched on with great interest. The mouse did a semi-circle around the tank and then stopped, sitting and twitching its little face indifferently. Mr Crombie sighed impatiently and was about to speak when the lump of metal went for the mouse. He jerked back in fright as the mouse struggled underneath the metal – which had now become a moving blob. It screeched as it was smothered. The mouse briefly vanished from sight, before the metal seemed to disappear inside it. Within moment the metal had vanished and the mouse sat up, twitching nervously.
Mr Crombie turned to Rufus, his mouth hanging open. “What the hell just happened?” he asked, forgetting his decorum.
“Watch, we’re not finished yet.”
Mr Crombie looked back at the tank. The mouse began to shake violently, its skin beginning to crawl. It shrieked then burst. From its blood-stained carcass emerged a tiny, dull grey creature with spindly legs. It looked roughly spider shaped, but metallic. It scuttled off into the centre of the tank, raising a quizzical antennae – then it attacked the glass.
Mr Crombie flinched as rows upon rows of serrated teeth smashed against the glass. The tiny creature recoiled, shrieking and charging again.
Rufus nodded
to the assistant, who flipped a switch. A large flash of light and the creature was vaporised.
“What on Earth was that?” demanded his business partner, clearly frightened.
“A crude demonstration of what can happen if this metal is not handled properly. However, it acts completely differently when it is introduced to inanimate objects. In the case of other metals or fabrics, say wood, it strengthens then and remains entirely inanimate.”
“You’re positive about this?”
“Yes, we have been testing it on bullet proof vests for the last year. Some of my staff are over there handing them.” He pointed.
Mr Crombie looked. True to his word, the workers were handling the armour with bare hands. He could tell they were made of the same freakish element because it boasted the same shade of dark coppery brown.
“I think you are investing in the wrong area Mr Trotsky.” Mr Crombie said, turning back to the taller man.
“How so?” Rufus asked, curious.
Mr Crombie looked to him, a greedy glint in his eye, “You should not be making armour and other strengthened materials. You should be building weapons.”
******
The homeless man jumped back in fright. He had been sitting quietly in a back street, nestled between his trolley and some bins, drinking his whiskey and minding his own business when a body fell from the sky a short distance away. He leant forward, gazing at the body and then at the sky. He couldn’t see anyone on the buildings overlooking the street. Picking up the two bin bags closest to him, he shuffled over to the naked corpse. Squinting, he realised it was a young man. Knowing better than to hang around for when the police showed up, he took off along the alleyway. He did not want to be blamed for someone else’s murder, nor did he want to be involved. As his footfalls retreated, a shadow descended from the sky. It was large and dark, almost impossible to see against the night. Landing, it rolled itself up, resolving into the figure of a man. He crouched down next to the corpse, he the living reflection of the man who lay dead in the street. He smirked at his handy work. He had managed to steal the life force of this victim without leaving any marks of scars. “Thanks.” He whispered, before turning away and heading off into the dark.
“Can I help you?” asked one of the two men standing at the door. He was heavily set, bald and built like a bulldog. His friend, just as large but just that little bit shorter looked as if he would snap Edward within a seconds notice.
Edward raised a hand. Both men stiffened, their arms falling to their sides. They groaned as their eyes turned black and they lost all control. “It is me.” He nearly spat in impatience. Giving a sharp wave of the hand, he freed them from his grasp.
One of the men stumbled as he landed heavily on his feet, coughing for breath. His mate was also gasping heavily, hand pressed against his neck as if he had just been released from a very tight noose. “Sir...sorry...” he gasped. Stepping back, he gave a half-hearted gesture for the man to enter. He was to out of breath to pay due reverence. Edward stormed past them without further word.
Inside he found a young woman sitting alone, modifying a weapon. Seeing him her eyes widened – she knew who it was despite his recent change in appearance. “Where have you been?” she demanded as she stood, abandoning the weapon.
He smirked, looking around the dank, deserted lair. “Feeding.” He replied bluntly.
“You have been gone for three nights!”
His dark eyes fixed on her. “Do not speak to me like that ever again.” He warned, “Or you’ll be next.”
Visibly shaken by the threat, the woman lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, but things have not been going well here and I had not heard anything from you, I was starting to get worried...”
“I take it the two men we hired failed?”
He glanced around the empty cellar as if it needed an explanation. “I don’t see any of them here nor do I see the head of Terryfallo or her uncle.” He said, his gaze returning to meet her.
She looked down uneasily. “I think them.”
He laughed; a hideous, humourless sound. “Well of course she did. She is an Alchemist. They were human.”
The young woman appeared puzzled. “Then what did you hire them for?”
The man straightened his collar in reflection of shattered mirror. “Distraction.”
Chapter 8
Confession
A bitter metallic taste filled Terry’s mouth. She glanced at the stormy sky overhead. It had rained all morning. She peered up into the grey gloom overhead as a thick droplet trickle down the bridge of her nose and off.
Her brown hair was plastered to her head and her ears were cold. She felt another bead of water trickle onto her skin, this time down the back of her neck.
She twisted as a cold finger traced her exposed flesh. She knew where it was going and was not looking forward to it. A few more drops before had found its way under the armour on her neck, running down flesh and causing it to itch in a place she could not scratch. But despite her twisting, it still found its way in.
She suddenly felt something wake; the ancient part of her mind – her real mind; the one that occupied her body in her true form. It reached for her, something large and powerful moving through the dark but she did not fear it. It brushed against her conscious mind, more emotion than thought. It was restless, angry, and hungry.
Closing her eyes for a few moments she pushed it away; the thoughts, the powerful emotions, the hunger. Once she opened them again she was alone once more on the cathedral roof, save the rain and the cold.
Terry glanced down at the twilight cathedral. The grounds surrounding the Italian architectural masterpiece were almost completely deserted due to the early hour and the elements.
A pigeon landed next to where Terry perched. She gave the bird a sidelong glance as it bobbed its head indifferently to her deadly presence. She sighed. “Yes Lyle, what a great idea. Of course he’ll show up.” She mumbled to herself, repeating what her uncle had said a few hours earlier. But he hadn’t. She felt as gloomy as the weather.
But as if fate had someone heard her she suddenly spotted who she was looking for. She squinted at him at first, unsure if it was him or not as he entered the courtyard from afar; no large than the size of an ant against the vast grey flagstones of the Cathedral grounds. But as he drew a little closer, running through the rain, she was certain.
Standing, she sprinted across the cathedral roof on sure, soundless feet. The pigeon leapt into the air, vanishing on a few quick flaps of startled wings. In that time Terry had disappeared.
The young man entered the confession booth. Taking a seat, he quickly did a cross sign and then spoke in Italian, his voice desperate, “Sorry father, it has been a long time since my last confession.”
“It is alright my son, what do you wish to share today?”
The man drew a deep breath, to steady his frayed nerves. “It is difficult to explain father...I have a terrible obsession...an addiction maybe...to help those who do terrible things...” he shook his head, “I never take part in such crimes nor have the inclination to do so but the pay...I have become addicted to money father.”
“Are you telling me that you are the one who’s been ripping all these holes between the two worlds?” asked a different voice.
Startled, he tried to bolt, but he was grabbed by a metal gloved hand that punched through the wooden partition.
Two priests walking passed the confession box stopped and glanced as the booth suddenly rocked. They exchanged a puzzled glance before carrying on their way without word.
Inside the box, the man choked, flailing at the furniture around him. His hands ignited in flame. But he froze when a blade slid half-way out of Terry’s wrist, the point pressing against the underside of his throat. “Don’t you dare.” She warned in a low voice.
He let his hands go out. “What do you want?” he croaked.
“I want to know why the walls between worlds have been ripped open so often lately.” Sh
e whispered, letting the point of the blade bite into his skin ever so slightly.
“Okay, okay!” he begged.
The blade retracted into Terry’s arm and she carefully let him go, wary that he might attempt to make another dash for it but when he sat down she realised there was no danger.
“I take it you have been watching me then?” He asked, touching his neck. It ached from where she had grabbed him.
“No but you’re the only one we’ve heard of that has a temporal device so I thought I’d come and speak to you. I take it you are behind them then?”