Chapter 57
I come awake with a gasp. For a moment, my mind spins—I don’t know where I am, when I am.
Widdershins. Adrian. Helen. The Cult of the Waking God.
Mary King leans over me. “Are you back with us, Ster?”
I meet her eyes, and she recoils slightly at whatever she sees in mine. “They’re going to destroy us,” I blurt. “No, worse—they’re going to Become us.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
My throat is dry, and my mouth tastes like the bottom of an old shoe. I’m still handcuffed and tucked into the bed. The torches have burned down and the scent of incense faded. How long was I out?
And more importantly, what has the cult done to Helen and Adrian in the meantime?
I’m hit by a wave of longing. I want Adrian to hold me, to stroke my hair, to tell me everything is going to be all right. Even though I know it isn’t.
My voice grates coming out, as though I haven’t spoken in a thousand years. “I’ll tell you, but only if Adrian and Helen are present.”
Anger flashes across her face. “I’m not—”
“Mary.” Dr. Yurevich’s calm voice cuts her off. “Mr. Caine has been unconscious for the last twenty-four hours. The magic put his body in a sort of stasis, yes, but I’m certain he could use a drink of water. As his doctor, I recommend you allow him to move around, get the blood pumping.”
“You aren’t his doctor.”
“I put him in this position, so I have a responsibility of care to him.”
She glares down at me. I try to look determined, or even stubborn, but I can feel tears trickling from the corners of my eyes even as I do so.
Bianca. Khephnes. Titus and Yrsa.
They’re all dead, even those returned to their own times. I hope Titus and Yrsa fared better than poor Bianca. Losing her husband, her child, everything she longed to go home to again…
I don’t know why she remembered enough to write my name in her letters.
To recall the cyclical nature of the Swarm’s path through time.
Maybe because she touched the orb directly, as the Swarm themselves would do.
Or perhaps she had the same dreams I did, only used The Key of Mithras to induce “visions” that were really memories, just as Dr. Yurevich had used hypnosis and magic on me.
Mary’s expression softens. “Fine. I’ll give you a chance to pull yourself together, and let Helen and Adrian join us. But all three of you will be under guard.”
“I’m used to it by now,” I say bitterly.
She and Dr. Yurevich help me sit up, then stand. My legs feel shaky, and everything has an odd sense of unreality. As though I’m still half in the past, back there with my fellow captives, my friends.
The tears start up again, though I’m past caring who sees. Mary and her cult seem laughable compared to the Swarm.
Mary unlocks my handcuffs with a warning I barely hear.
We pass back through the tunnels into the house and she leaves me in Dr. Yurevich’s care.
He escorts me to the bathroom on the second floor so I can brush my teeth and drink a glass of water.
Once that’s done, we go back down to the keeping room.
Dawn has broken outside, the sun slipping fingers of light between the gaps in the curtains. Adrian and Helen sit at the table, Thurston and Dorset standing behind them.
As soon as he sees me, Adrian leaps to his feet. Dorset puts a hand out to stop him, but Adrian evades his grasp and runs to me. “Sterling! Are you all right?”
I fall into his embrace. His familiar smell grounds me a bit more in this time, as do his strong arms. I don’t bother to hold back my sobs of grief for my long-dead friends, and his arms tighten around me.
“What did you do to him?” Helen demands. “I swear to the dark gods, Mary, if you—”
“Calm down, Hellion, we just helped him remember. Which he wanted us to do, if you recall.”
“They didn’t hurt me,” I manage to say, in case Helen decides to start casting spells. “It’s worse than that. So much worse.”
Adrian draws back and peers down at me, searching my gaze for answers. “What did you remember?”
“Nothing good.” I start to wipe my eyes with my fingers. Adrian produces a handkerchief and does it for me, before handing the cloth over for me to blow my nose. “Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”
It takes about two hours for me to relate and explain all I now remember.
Halfway through, Mary grabs a bottle of scotch and pours a tumbler for everyone, even though it’s well before noon.
When I finally reach the end of my tale, no one speaks for a long moment.
I look around at their pale faces and frightened eyes, and the despair from my time in isolation returns.
Helen finally rouses herself. “All right. So, when we spoke to Dr. Dane at the university, she said the date Bianca predicted for the return of the Swarm was September 25, 1927. They should have already come through.”
“We’d know if they had,” I say with a shake of my head.
“They would have replaced us en masse. I would probably never have returned at all, the Swarm scout would have just kept my body.” A horrible thought occurs.
“A body it’s used to. It means to replace me again, only this time permanently.
That’s why it left money in my wallet and tried to orient me when I returned—so this body will still be here, in good shape for it to inhabit again. ”
Adrian’s eyes widen and his lips part in horror, but he doesn’t say anything.
“If they’d emerged, they would have replaced the poor wretches whose wills they’ve already suppressed with the Chrysalis.
” Mary pours herself another drink and tops off everyone else’s.
I haven’t touched mine, too shaken to even want alcohol.
“The fact they haven’t means we still have time.
Your friend Bianca was wrong about the exact date. ”
Dr. Yurevich clears his throat. I’ve almost forgotten about him; he’s taken up residence in a comfortable chair in the corner. “While you were sleeping, Mary filled me in. I believe she said Bianca Giuliani was a Renaissance artist?”
“She was,” I confirm. And so much more.
“Was she writing before or after the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar?”
The question hasn’t even occurred to me. “Before. Which means…” I do a quick calculation in my head. “Add thirteen, and September 25 by her reckoning would be October 8 in ours.”
Adrian’s brown skin shades toward gray. “That’s today.”