Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
EDDIE
Eddie did his best to not stare at the Larva. It was a monstrosity, a presence and an absence at once, a cocoon waiting to hatch and release a terror into System Sol. He felt its intelligence, its malevolence; its attention on Jones and the creature they spoke to.
But there was something else, something that spun Eddie’s brain in circles.
He tried fitting it into the shape of the universe he knew, but it didn’t make sense.
It couldn’t make sense. Yet here it was—something that existed physically on the Neo-Tokyo, and yet was made of the Song and the Void and breaking glass and shattering stars.
Eddie couldn’t explain it, but he wanted—needed—to know more.
He needed to know what it meant to be Void-Touched; needed to understand the floating creature—spirit?
—that Jones communicated with. He wanted to know why he knew that Jones rotted from within, eaten by the very thing they worshiped.
He wanted to know what the Larva was, where it came from, how it could exist at all.
Eddie wanted to know why he knew the things he did, why he could hear the Song, see visions. But above all, he wanted off the ship before it blew, and he wanted Jett with him.
Jett, who crouched next to the Larva, knife in hand, murder painted across his beautiful features.
The Song hummed, low and beautiful. It vibrated from the tips of Eddie’s fingers along the length of his limbs, in his hair, his blood.
It swirled in the air and crackled in the concrete beneath his knees.
It cooed at the Larva and the Larva responded with sparkling stars and shattering glass and pure malice.
Eddie felt Jett fidget. From where he knelt, Jett seemed to have lost half his armor and rifle. His eye glowed black, his focus split between the floating creature and Eddie himself, knife held backward in his hand.
YOU.
A whisper touched Eddie’s mind, drawing all of his attention. Drawing his very being back to the Larva. It was the same Voice that spoke to him aboard the Golden Lion, the one that taunted him with visions of Augustus’s death. The Voice that fought with him for Jett’s very soul.
YOU.
The whisper thundered in his mind, outside his skull. It echoed off the distant hull, rattled the buildings that towered above them. Pain sparked bright and hot behind his eyes. A searing, blinding light from which there was no shield.
Eddie collapsed to his palms in a worshipful pose before the Larva. Shards of bone and glass dug into his flesh, his blood mingling with everything else that tarnished this place.
You have been touched by our Song.
The Larva spoke in deep, rippling tones that Eddie felt more than heard.
They touched his heart, his head, sung against his skin.
He focused on Jett, on the buzzing presence beyond the Larva.
It was a comfort to have him near, no matter the situation.
If Jett was here, it would be okay. An aura surrounded him, brighter than the darkness, darker than the light.
It shifted, twisted, curled around his husband’s form.
You have heard our Call and answered.
The Voice probed deep into his mind, caressed the folds of his brain, witnessed every moment of Eddie’s life in an instant. Each joy and every trauma on display.
Your mind has adapted nicely, the perfect vessel for our words.
You will never be free from our influence.
Should you escape our body, you will be our pawn in the epoch to come.
The probing turned to slicing. The Song deafened Eddie, lights dazzled his eyes. Everything faded into the background except the sickly black glow of the Larva, the dying screams of stars, and the voice of the God before him.
Eddie cried out as his eyes stung and a vision flashed before him.
Neo-Tokyo floated in a starless Void.
Tendrils of shadow rippled across the hull, dipping between layers of ceramic, steel, and glass.
The engines had stilled and would never start again; they weren’t needed where it was, where it hummed with unnatural warmth and life.
Both its own and the lives of the parasites that lived between the walls and floated through the cavernous space above city and gardens.
Light ignited above the city. Clouds of gas and stars roiled through the vast space, from hull to hull. And then went dark.
Eddie opened his eyes, was drawn to an impression of that vast, hungry presence in the space above Neo-Tokyo. It echoed Jones from earlier.
That is the fate of your home, Oracle. We will consume the dead and living and be reborn. All must be consumed to become a part of the Void. You and your Guardian are not exempt from that fate.
The whisper retreated, leaving stars in its wake.
When they cleared, Jett was watching him. His eye the only detail clear in the swirling aura. He stood, radiating something that Eddie had never felt before and hopefully never would again: cold, murderous intent. Protection. Resignation.
Everything happened so fast and all Eddie could do was stare.
Jett sprinted around the Larva, leaving a shadow in his wake tinted the color of dried blood. A scream ripped from his chest, drew the attention of the floating creature arguing with Jones.
He slowed, jumped, slammed the blade of his knife into the space that would have been the creature’s head. A flash of light flared bright then flickered out.
The sparkling of the stars turned to shrieks. The creature exploded with a sickening pop, like a boil being lanced. Air rushed into empty space, reeking of ozone and decay. Eddie felt it all in his chest, felt the loss pull on his core.
The Larva cried out.
For the first time Eddie heard the Song outside of his mind: a cacophony of pops and screams and sparkles; the crunch of glass, the shattering of metal, the distant heartbeat of the Void.
It was no longer beautiful, but terrible, dark, and cursed.
The Song made the Neo-Tokyo quake beneath him, around him.
Pieces broke off the buildings and crashed, shattering.
Had he been standing, Eddie would have collapsed under the pressure of that terrible noise.
Tendrils of nothingness burst from the Larva, shooting in all directions. Eddie felt as they burrowed down through concrete and metal, through conduit, plumbing, electrical wires. They dug straight into the bowels and heart of the ship and planted roots.
It was just like the visions.
Jett stood nearby, his legs spread against the shaking, knife shining in his hand. A tendril shot past his leg, skimming it. Eddie watched as Jett collapsed to his knees, a scream on his lips, empty hand holding his calf.
Everything quieted for a single second before Jones screeched, an ear-splitting sound that merged with renewed rumbling and crunching and grating of the ship as the Larva delved its depths.
Jones stood, hands tearing at hair, blood running down their face and neck to join the filth that had already collected there.
Jett turned at the sound, hand still holding his leg. Now that he was closer, Eddie could see the details better: a scowl on his face, blood darkened his clothing, stained his skin, slicked his dark hair back. He stalked toward Jones, flipping the knife blade forward.
Jones took a deep, shuddering breath, then continued screaming.
Jett was smaller than Jones when they came face to face, but Eddie didn’t think that would matter. The man was a soldier, born and bred, taught by the best in System Sol.
Jett slapped Jones with his free hand, eliciting a wet, gargling sound that did nothing for Eddie’s queasy stomach.
Jones quieted. “You!” they yelled. “You will be the next to be cons—”
Jett stabbed Jones in the stomach, ripped his knife sideways, spilling guts as he did.
Jones uttered another strangled, liquid sound; not a scream, not quite the sound of sickness. They looked down where red viscera spilled over their hands, ropes of intestine slipping free to hang like chains. They looked back up at Jett and screamed once more.
Jett stood there, no expression on his face, and spared a fleeting glance at Eddie. It contained a storm of emotion: pain, that cold murderous anger, love. He was beautiful, maybe more so than he’d ever been before. Eddie was in awe of him.
Jett turned back to Jones, who still screamed, and grabbed them by the throat. He pressed the tip of his knife to the bottom of their jaw and pressed in slowly, up at an angle toward his brain.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He hissed between clenched teeth, punctuating each word with another wound in Jones’ throat. His voice was deep and impossibly soft, yet it carried easily to Eddie’s ears.
Jett pulled the knife, now hilt-deep in ragged skin and flaking esophagus, out in one smooth motion.
Blood poured down Jones’ neck as they gurgled and gargled, choking on their own body, on the fluids that carried their life.
Jett cocked his head to one side, watched them as they kicked and whimpered until they grew still.
Jett let go of their neck and they crumpled to the ground.
A tendril snaked out from the Larva reaching for them immediately.
All must be consumed to become a part of the Void.
A quiet stillness filled the air as Eddie watched the tendril pull that broken, bloody creature across the ground and held it close as a lover.
Then it started to absorb Jones into its body.
It was almost intimate, the way the Larva consumed the one who had served it.
Soft lapping, purring noises pulsed as Jones’ head disappeared.
“Are you hurt?”
Eddie tore his gaze away from the spectacle before him.
Jett stood, drenched in blood, gore-splattered, knife clenched in his gloved hand, staring down at Eddie. He rubbed a hand over his face where his eyes still stung, and shook his head. He wasn’t hurt, just changed, different. In ways he couldn’t process now.
Jett’s grabbed Eddie by the jaw and forced him to look up into softening eyes.
The ring burned bright again, steady and golden, and for a moment the awe that Eddie felt for Jett—for the combination of violence and softness that he contained—disappeared, and cold fear rushed over him.
Something burned in Jett’s natural eye, something foreign, something Void.
Then it was gone. A clang of metal falling on concrete broke the silence. Jett had tossed his knife aside. The blade glowed with unnatural darkness, a hint of stars reflecting off its smooth length.
Jett sighed, his grip loosened, guided Eddie’s face to a different angle.
“I should’ve known I’d see you down here.
” He leaned down and pressed their lips together.
Despite everything, Jett still tasted sweet, and that lingered even when he pulled away and slumped down in Eddie’s arms, buried his head in Eddie’s chest.
They embraced for one long moment before Jett pushed away. “Never do this shit again,” he said as he helped Eddie to his feet. “If you ever put yourself in danger like this…” He trailed off, leaving the threat open-ended. Eddie knew that Jett would never make good on it.
Eddie stretched and turned back to the Larva. It had consumed Jones, clothing and all, and now swayed in a way that seemed almost pleased.
Behind him, Jett spoke in a low voice to Ollie and Cosma. Eddie had almost forgotten about them once he saw Jett. It had always been, and would always be like that. Jett was everything to Eddie.
He took a step forward, feeling the Call of the Larva.
That touch on his mind had been almost intoxicating, and if he hadn’t just watched it shake the ship hard enough to ruin star-scrapers and consume a person whole, he might have been tempted to reach out with his mind and hand to touch it once again.
“Hey, Captain, we’re leaving,” an amused voice called.
Eddie turned back and stumbled forward, felt the world shudder beneath his feet. Or maybe it was his legs that gave out, but Eddie was suddenly on the ground again.
“Help me, Ollie,” Jett said.
Strong arms helped him back up, and Jett slotted himself under his shoulder, an arm around his waist. “Let’s get out of here, Ed.”