18. Cinn
eighteen
Cinn
D arcy’s face, blotched with pink, broke into relief at the sight of them. Out of breath, she leaned on her knees, and Julien reached out his hand to steady her. “Great timing. Madame Sinclair just sent a message to Noir’s fireplace, but sent me running here in case you missed it.” She checked her watch. “Elliot’s about to be sent out with the gendarmerie. He’s already at the Baths.”
“What? What’s going on?” asked Julien.
“There’s been another umbraphage attack. In progress. Right now. But this time… this time, there’s two .” Darcy stared at Julien, her emphasis on the number heightened by the tight clench of her jaw. “At once.”
“And Eleanor wanted us to know Elliot was being sent out… why exactly? He’s been sent to expel them before.”
“Well…” Darcy started, glancing at Cinn.
In an instant, Julien’s arm flew out in front of Cinn to create a barrier. “She’s got to be joking.”
“She only wants him to observe from the background . To see what he makes of them. See what reactions he has.”
“ Oui , Eleanor can have a reaction , alright—”
Cinn pushed Julien’s arm down. “It’s fine, Julien.” And then said to Darcy, “I’ll come.”
The tight press of Julien’s lips suggested he wasn’t happy, but it really had very little to do with him, so Cinn angled himself away from him to address Darcy. “It’s why I’m here, isn’t it? If there are people in danger, I guess I should try to help,” he said, surprising himself in the process. Truthfully though, he was getting rather tired of long interviews in Noir’s office, and attempting to read books half as heavy as him. He’d always learnt best practically, so what was the harm in a little fieldwork?
“I’ll walk Cinn to the Baths. We might still be able to catch up with Elliot,” said Darcy.
A short, sharp laugh burst out of Julien. “I’m coming too. I’m going with him.”
“Good luck persuading the operators that you’re on the list.”
Julien only smiled wickedly. “They can try to stop me if they dare.”
Darcy folded her arms. “Well, if you’re going, I’m coming as well.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
Cinn coughed. “Well, shall we…?”
“Even if we somehow get clearance, the bath operators won’t be pleased with us tagging along pointlessly during emergency protocol,” Darcy said as they started their brisk journey.
“I don’t care,” Julien replied.
Cinn slowed his walk. “So, just to clarify, when we say baths …”
“Oh, yes! Sorry Cinn. We’re going to travel via the Displacement Baths.” Darcy’s eyes danced with delight , of all things. The snippets Cinn had heard about these strange devices did not make him jump for joy at the prospect of using them. “Elliot uses them all the time for work travel.”
They cut through the centre of Auri, past the ruin of the Cerulean Auditorium, past St. Caelum’s, with its towering spires, past the library’s cobbled courtyard, until they were a few steps away from a modern-looking building, all shiny metal and gleaming glass, the faint scent of chlorine wafting out from its edges.
Abruptly, Cinn halted his following of Darcy’s rapid pace and slowed to a crawl .
Julien grabbed his shoulder. “You okay? Have you changed your mind?” He seemed rather hopeful.
“Do I have to… swim in the baths?”
“No. They’re not that big at all. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”
“Will I have to go underwater?”
“It’s not water exactly… you’ll see. But, yes, you’ll need to be completely submerged.”
Cinn worried at his lip. Would he actually be able to cope with this without having a public meltdown? Although, he supposed he’d gone all the way under the water a few times in his fancy bathtub at his house, and that had been fine.
Julien’s grey eyes turned oddly tender—for him—and he used his thumb to nudge Cinn’s bottom lip out from his teeth. His warm hand remained on Cinn’s cheek when he said, “Let me tell Eleanor maybe you’ll go next time. This is all too sudden.”
At a more appropriate time, he’d have to instigate a no-touching rule, as his silly little brain couldn’t cope with any level of contact and traitorously craved more and more of every morsel Julien gave him.
“I want to do it,” Cinn said with as much conviction as he could muster. And a large part of him did want to—he was becoming increasingly curious about these so-called ‘umbraphages’ that were terrifying the moteblessed community with their existence.
“Are you coming in?” Darcy called from the revolving-glass entrance, with clear impatience.
Apparently, yes, he was.
The Displacement Baths were a… process .
First, they’d been in a crowded lobby, cramped, with dozens of people jostling each other to be further ahead in the queue for the check-in desk. The no-nonsense receptionist took Cinn’s name first, then pointed to a metal turnstile gate. He’d hovered to the side, waiting for Julien to finish his long ‘explanation’ of why he and Darcy weren’t on today’s access list, but then was called through the barrier by a woman in a white lab coat and a clipboard.
Julien, noticing that he’d passed through without them, shouted after him, but all Cinn could do was give him a helpless shrug. Hopefully, he’d find Elliot on the other side of the Baths, wherever that even was.
Marched to a changing room, the woman ordered Cinn to strip completely naked, slip into the provided robe, and put every single possession in a locker. After eyeing the cabinet unhappily, he wrapped up his headphones and buried them deep in his bag before carefully folding his new green beanie, pushing it down securely so that it wouldn’t catch in the bag’s zip.
The woman closely scrutinised Cinn’s earring and eyebrow piercing, holding several metal bars to them in a series of tests. Whatever she was doing, they appeared to pass the checks.
Next came the inspection of his golden bangle, which he warned her was not coming off, in the hope she wouldn’t question it too closely. The way the woman kept glancing at her clipboard clued him in to the fact she was prepared for this, however, and she made no further comment.
The emergency code on the top of his form warranted Cinn be sent straight to the front of the queue for transportation, and this displeased the attendant, who could see from her notes that it was Cinn’s first visit. The name ‘Madame Sinclair’ was muttered unpleasantly under her breath.
When she informed him that the usual process involved watching a one hour instructional video, but that he wouldn’t be doing that today, it did not make him feel better .
“I’m going to quickly break down the procedure for you. When called, you will enter the chamber number stated. Place your feet on the markers on the tiles. The chamber will fill with Aerofluid. The rising liquid will pause at your neck. The operator will confirm you are happy to proceed. Next, the Aerofluid will rise above your head, fully submerging you. Keep very still. Oh, and don’t forget to take a deep breath beforehand—deep as possible, until your lungs are filled to bursting.”
He gave her a look .
“You’d be surprised at how many people forget. There’s a red panic button within arm’s reach. Pressing it will empty the chamber within five seconds. If it’s not pressed, shortly after the chamber’s capacity is reached, you’ll be displaced.”
And what exactly does that entail? he wanted to scream at her, but she was already gesturing for him to follow. Keeping his thin white robe—would there be clothes on the other side? Surely there would be?—firmly wrapped around him, he followed the stern lady down a corridor, joined by other robed people coming out of changing cubicles. Combined together, he was struck by the uncomfortable sensation that the lot of them were sheep being herded.
He swallowed.
The funnel poured out into a spacious, high-ceilinged room with ugly brown tiles, cool to the touch of his bare feet. Its centre housed eight benches that created a square that faced the four walls, each featuring rows of doors inscribed with white numbers.
Now he was in this final chamber, the chlorine smell increased to almost nauseating levels. He’d visited swimming pools several times following the years since he’d almost drowned, and always left ashamed he hadn’t made it past the shallow end.
But you’re not swimming today, you’re simply…. standing.
The wait on the bench was agonisingly slow. Various names were called out over the loudspeaker, each instructing the traveller to enter a numbered chamber. Cinn studied the faces of the people near him. Some seemed tense, but nobody else was having the near panic attack he was.
“Cinnamon Saunders, chamber four.”
He didn’t even have enough energy to cringe at his real name.
As he forced his unsteady legs to take the handful of steps to the numbered door, a voice called out his name, and he turned to find Darcy waving at him from the entrance, she and Julien in their own stark white robes. Shoulders untensing somewhat, Cinn smiled to himself; Julien had talked their way into the Baths after all. Of course he had.
However, Julien still looked pissed off, and a fissure of annoyance crackled through Cinn. Why had he insisted on coming if he was just going to sulk the entire time?
He had no more time to ponder the mysterious workings of Julien’s mind, because now he was in the tiny chamber, no bigger than a cupboard under the stairs in width, and the heavy iron was closing automatically.
The four sides of the chamber were lined with metal so shiny, Cinn could see his reflection. He scowled at the robed, wide-eyed fellow with tangled hat-hair. Positioning his feet exactly on the two red crosses on the tiles, he straightened his posture, and waited, a pool of anxiety eating at his stomach.
A tinny voice filled the small space. Cinn couldn’t see a speaker in sight. Motecraft ?
“Starting displacement sequence. Stand by.”
From thousands of miniscule, pinprick-sized holes near the bottom of the chamber, a liquid started pouring in, wetting the bottom of his feet. The lukewarm fluid was… strange. It was clear like water, but with a slight haziness to it. Once it had reached his knees, Cinn marvelled at the light airiness of the fluid splashing against his skin. There wasn’t a single hint of chlorine now—instead, the liquid held a vaguely earthy, floral scent .
Everywhere the fluid touched, his skin tingled with a not unpleasant sensation; it was almost like being tickled with a feather. The liquid rose higher and higher, until it had reached the hem of his robe. To his utter surprise, the material completely disintegrated upon contact with the Aerofluid, dissolving into it without a trace. He watched, fascinated, as the water level rose quicker and quicker now, and took his robe with it.
It was when the fluid reached his chest that the panic started.
Memories of battling for his life against that cold, murky river resurfaced, and he recalled those horrible, horrible moments where his body forced him to swallow the dirty water instead of breathing air.
Fighting against the nervous shake in his leg, Cinn took manual control of his breathing to slow his rapid heartbeat. It’s not even water. You probably can’t even drown, he lied to himself. It will all be over within seconds , he continued, even though he hadn’t the faintest clue.
He bit into his lip so hard, a metallic tang filled his mouth.
The Aerofluid reached his collarbone. A tiny involuntary moan crept out of him, and the red panic button, easily within reach, tempted him.
However, he’d look simply ridiculous to Julien and Darcy if he backed out now and didn’t join them on the other side.
Plus, he’d have to leave the chamber completely naked.
Yes, that sealed the deal.
The rising fluid paused at his neck, exactly like the woman said it would.
“Please audibly confirm you wish to proceed.”
Terror gripped him with a vice-like fist. “Wait! Nobody has actually told me where I’m going yet!”
The bored, monotonous voice declared, “Chambers one to five are rigged up to our portable receiver baths.”
“Huh? What?”
“Sir, are you ready? ”
No! “Yes?”
Squeezing his eyes shut and praying he didn’t open them to find himself in the Atlantic Ocean, Cinn inhaled the largest lungful of air he could, imagining his lungs were a balloon that could always inflate that tiny bit more.
The cool tingle of the strange substance danced across his chin, cheeks, forehead, until Cinn’s hair was lightly tugged upwards by the rising liquid. He knew when the chamber had reached capacity—his feet were lifted off the ground.
He was floating.
And then, he was flying, engulfed in a shimmering dance of bright colours that penetrated his closed eyelids. Weightless, untethered to time and space, the fabric of reality folding and wrapping around his form.
For a fleeting moment, he questioned whether he even existed at all, fearing he may have even shadowslipped, as the familiar sensation of disassociation washed over him.
Then, he wasn’t floating, or flying, but falling, dropping , although not necessarily downwards , hurtling towards something.
The multicoloured lights converged, collapsing into a brilliant point of focus, and Cinn hurtled through a tunnel of sorts, until the lights faded and he was left with the black of his closed eyes.
The Aerofluid relinquished its firm hold on him, gently releasing Cinn into the new space. Once his body felt the chill of air rather than liquid, he tentatively peeled his eyes open.
Cinn inhaled the biggest breath of air he’d ever taken.
Then, an awful sense of vertigo consumed him when he realised he wasn’t actually standing anymore, rather, lying down horizontally.
Slightly rusty corrugated metal was the first thing Cinn saw, then, as his vision cleared, a series of overhead shelves, each holding boxes and containers, came into focus. The scent of industrial materials and a hint of engine oil permeated the air.
He sat up so quickly, his head swam.
He was in a van. An enormous van.
Secured crates were dotted in between what could only be described as bathtubs, each connected to the van by thick metal tubing. Uniformed people ran up and down the centre aisle, barking orders. What did he do now?
A towel hit his face.
“Get dressed,” Darcy’s voice instructed him.
Using the towel to hide as much of himself as possible, he asked, “Into what?”
She dumped a pile of navy fabric on the crate next to him. “Congratulations. You’ve been promoted into the gendarmerie for the day. I hope you’re shoe size nine.”
“How did you beat me here?” Cinn said to her fully clothed self, frowning. Even her hair, although damp, looked immaculate, tied back in a neat ponytail. “And why am I now in an actual bathtub?”
“The journey timings are very unpredictable. And the portable displacement systems have to be flat for space-saving purposes.”
“And where’s Julien?” Cinn would rather he didn’t end up stark naked in front of him, all things considered. However, Darcy had seen someone more important than him, and left to chase them down the van’s interior.
After drying and changing—facing the van’s wall—Cinn pushed past the throngs of people to access the van’s rear door, open to the world, with a ramp allowing access to a paved surface.
The van’s interior sprawled out into a small, circular, makeshift base: more supply crates, workbenches, chunky medical kits, a massive radio antenna. A couple of grainy screens connected to humming power generators displaying wavy lines of data. A collection of metal caches, some of them propped open to reveal strange looking devices that could only be weapons .
Nobody glanced at Cinn, standing in the middle of the organised chaos, not even once. He was a ghost, floating over the whole scene, watching down from above.
What on earth did he do now?
“Hey,” said a voice, and a hand pressed into the small of his back.
Cinn couldn’t deny the cascade of relief that coursed through him when he turned to find Julien’s face filling his vision, offering him a tight, dimpled smile.
“Hey.” His breathy reply probably gave his elation away. If it didn’t, the way Cinn grabbed the sleeve of Julien’s navy blue shirt definitely did.
“Enjoy the journey?” Julien said, then smirked. “Or was it as traumatic as Auri’s elevators?”
“Better than the elevators. Aside from the whole having-to-be-naked bit.”
“ Oui , I’m sad I missed that,” Julien said, eyes twinkling. “If only I was a few minutes faster, eh?”
Cinn gave him an exaggerated eye roll and dropped his grip on Julien’s arm. Julien laughed, looking pleased.
Darcy saved Cinn from further torment by materialising, Eleanor Sinclair in tow. Cinn blinked, not expecting her presence here even though she’d demanded his. It was striking seeing her in a standardised uniform, rather than the power-suit combos she tended to favour. Even more strange was the absence of her black thick-rimmed glasses, which she must have had to leave behind at Auri.
Eleanor looked straight past Cinn to Julien. “I’m still not entirely clear what you and Darcy are doing here,” she said pleasantly enough, but the edge to her undertone made Cinn’s stomach tense.
Darcy’s gaze fell to the ground like a reprimanded child’s, but Julien remained unaffected. “How can I support MEET in developing motetech to handle these umbraphages if I’ve never seen one? ”
“Ah, so the director of MEET approved the paperwork? Funny how Jonathan Steele managed to do that, within ten minutes, while being out of the country.”
Darcy now looked like she wanted to die, to sink into the ground and never return.
Cinn stepped forward. Cleared his throat. “It’s my fault, ma’am. Darcy came to take me to the Baths, and I panicked about going alone. I begged them to come with me. Sorry if they should have checked with you first.”
Julien didn’t blink an eye at his lie, but Darcy looked up, looking even more horrified.
Eleanor made a clucking sound. “Well, we’re all here now. But this isn’t a school trip. You’ll follow the instructions from the unit commander to the letter. These things are dangerous. The two umbraphages have already killed six people, one of them ours.”
“Elliot—” started Darcy.
“Is fine. Now follow me.”
The three of them fell into step behind Eleanor, who left the vicinity of the van to march them down the road. For the first time, Cinn took in their surroundings—a residential area, three-storey terraced houses on either side of them. When they reached the end of the road, a line of orange blockades prevented access to the left.
“We’ve evacuated every house in the surrounding blocks, citing a critical gas leak,” Eleanor said. “We were forced to use the LMDs on a couple of residents who saw too much.”
“Lumimeld Memory Disrupter,” Julien said quietly. “My team and I designed them.” The evident pride in his voice made Cinn smile to himself.
Two turns in the road later, the first traces of noise became audible. Shouting mainly, but some other indistinguishable sounds as well. Cinn’s pace slowed as Eleanor’s quickened. He really wasn’t sure what to expect from these elusive creatures that Auri believed he held the magic key to turning the tide against. What he did know however, was that they were likely to be very disappointed when he turned out to be useless.
What would happen if that happened? Would they send him back to London? With his golden band on, he wouldn’t be a danger any longer.
Although, when he imagined himself slotting back into his old life—well, he’d probably need to find a new restaurant to work at—a pang of loss twinged through him. Which in turn triggered a wave of guilt, because Tyler needed him there.
It had alarmed Cinn to get a phone call from Tyler yesterday. Just past nine a.m., but Tyler joked he hadn’t been to bed yet. Cinn hadn’t found the manic note in his laugh funny at all. When he’d accused Tyler of being high, Tyler had muttered something under his breath before hanging up on him. Cinn knew Tyler better than the back of his hand. Tyler felt abandoned, and confused about what exactly Cinn was doing in Switzerland, and hurt by the lack of information he could offer him.
“Hey, this is exactly where that umbraphage attacked the other week, isn’t it? Outskirts of Seville?” said Julien. “I recognise it from the video you showed me.”
“Yes,” replied Eleanor. “We dissipated it, but it’s returned to the exact same place, which is unique enough as it is. But this time, it’s brought company.”
The noises increased in volume until it was clear they’d almost arrived. Turning the last corner, Cinn braced himself.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
His breath caught, and he reached for both Julien and Darcy’s arms simultaneously as he observed the spectacle unfolding before him. Two of the creatures, suspended in mid-air above a sea of navy-blue uniforms—Auri’s gendarmerie. The umbraphages, black silhouettes that emitted a dark, otherworldly glow, writhed and contorted like shadows come to life. Their formless bodies ebbed and flowed, a dance of darkness that seemed to mock the efforts of the brave team confining them below.
The gendarmerie formed a circle in the wide road, and enclosed the creatures in a barrier made of, or at least powered by, some sort of motes. Millions of tiny flecks of vibrating movements, all working together to create a half sphere of protection.
“They’ll compress the light net smaller and smaller until the umbraphages disintegrate,” Eleanor informed them. “It’s only a temporary measure, however. They’ll be back. We’ve started recording the tiniest individual difference between them, you see. Each of them emits a unique energy signature. That one on the right is the same one that was here before. The other is new.”
As the combatants clashed, tendrils of inky blackness lashed out, and occasionally momentarily broke free of the glowing light barrier, unleashing a round of panicked shouts as more effort was required to channel motes to fill the gap in the barrier it created, and to push the tendril back inside.
Julien gestured towards something, prompting Cinn’s confusion until he clocked Elliot’s wild hair at the far side of the action. Elliot had his feet planted firmly on the ground, left leg bent in front of the other, but he was clearly feeling the strain of whatever he was doing to support the light barrier, as his outstretched arms trembled.
“We’re not going any closer.” Julien positioned himself slightly in front of Cinn. Hilarious, as the chances of him charging into battle like a knight in shining armour were as improbable as a snowman dancing in hell.
A long inky tendril suddenly whipped out of the fractured barrier, the scent of sulphur increasing as it did so, and an umbraphage succeeded in wrapping itself around the upper arm of some poor fighter. The man made a harrowing sound: a scream that reverberated through the air, before punching straight into Cinn’s soul. A spray of blood decorated the concrete before the team could push the umbraphage back into the light cage.
Falling to the ground, the man wailed in agony. Two gendarmes lifted a shoulder each to carry him away, towards where the four of them stood. Dashing towards them from the left were two paramedics, and Cinn jumped backwards to allow them quicker access to their patient.
Eleanor stepped forward to examine the wound over the shoulder of the doctors. “See that?” she said, as one paramedic cut a sizeable chunk out of the officer’s uniform to allow access to his entire limb.
The laceration that the umbraphage made ran deep into the man’s arm. Scarlet-red blood ran freely from it, dripping onto the ground. And then, Cinn saw what Eleanor was talking about—tiny flecks of black ink swimming in the blood, as if alive. Looking even closer—as close as he dared—it appeared that the veins around the injury had blackened too.
“It makes the wounds a nightmare to close,” said Eleanor. “Occasionally, some of our gendarmes have needed full blood transfusions because so much of the stuff got into their bloodstream, it poisoned them.”
The man fell to his knees, clutching both hands to his head, to the dismay of the medics who’d been trying to clean out his wound. Without warning, the man’s wailing suddenly increased in volume and he shook his head violently, as if trying to clear it of something. Cinn shuffled back.
“And this,” continued Eleanor, as if giving a lecture. “Is another side effect of our lovely new friends. If you get too close, or if one strikes you, it can sometimes trigger the person to experience delusions. We’ve even had some reports of them projecting nightmarish visions into the minds of their victims. In rare cases, the affected individual has become trapped in a state of psychosis. Even if you’re a fair distance from the umbraphage, they can intensify feelings of fear, sorrow or anger in their proximity. ”
Were they a ‘fair distance’ from them right now? Perhaps the light barrier was protecting them. Even so, the umbraphages emanated a chilling aura, tainting the air with an oppressive weight.
Cinn cautiously retreated from the disturbed man sprawled on the concrete. Paramedics hovered over him, administering an injection while Darcy whispered something to Julien.
Taking small, uneven steps, Cinn stumbled backwards until he hit a garden fence.
These umbraphages. They were… too much.
Eleanor… Julien, Darcy, Elliot… the rest of Auri, hell, potentially the rest of the world , were relying on him to sort this out? No chance.
The reality of the challenge slapped him in the face like a bucket of icy water. He crumbled against the fence, crumbled under the weight of everyone’s expectations.
Julien and Darcy approached.
“This is why—”
Darcy interrupted Julien with a sharp, “Don’t.”
“So, are they similar to what you saw that day in my cottage, Cinn? When you shadowslipped?” Darcy asked.
Cinn glanced over to the action again, where the ongoing struggle with the umbraphages was still unfolding like a desperate ballet, light battling darkness on a blood-soaked stage.
“Similar. Not exactly the same, no. But they… feel the same,” he said, his voice trailing off to a near whisper. “I’m so sorry, but I really don’t think…” He stared over at the two deadly creatures of darkness throwing themselves at the barrier.
Darcy dropped to the ground beside him, with Julien following closely behind. “ Please don’t worry about that right now,” she said.
Julien nodded, his lips tightly pressed together. “Let’s go home. I’ll talk to Eleanor. You’ll never have to see them again, if you don’t want to. ”
“Don’t promise him that, Julien!” snapped Darcy.
Cinn looked away from the pair of them, up into the sky. The sun was still visible, but its light appeared dampened, diminished.
Another scream, another person down, this time a woman.
As Eleanor walked towards them, frowning, Cinn climbed to his feet.
“I think we’d all better return to the va—”
Before Eleanor could finish her sentence, an almighty inhuman screech tore through the air, and everyone’s heads snapped towards the light circle, where one umbraphage had fashioned its form to create two long limbs, working them together to create a rip, a tear in the barrier. Within a heartbeat, it had completely freed over half of its shadowy existence, causing a wave of outcry from the gendarmes below.
“We need to run,” Julien said, yanking Cinn’s arm so hard that a jolt of adrenaline shot through him, his heart pounding in sync with the urgency in Julien’s voice.
It was too late.
The umbraphage was completely clear of the barrier, not a single wispy trace of it left behind. Several gendarmes came together to create a flat surface of light, one last futile effort of defence, but it easily surged upwards, rising high until it was above the chimney line.
Distantly, his mind registered Darcy and Julien’s shouts, but Cinn tuned them out. Because the umbraphage was… looking at him. He couldn’t explain how he knew this; the creature had no face, no eyes with which to seek him. But it knew him.
And it was coming for him.
Like a bird of prey diving for its next meal, the umbraphage flung itself towards the ground.
An agonising heat seared through Cinn’s left wrist, and he tore his eyes away from the umbraphage to his warding band. It had become lava-hot, radiating scalding heat, and all at once it was as if molten sunlight coursed beneath his skin. As the inferno deepened, already causing blistering red marks, he unleashed a primal scream. He tried to rip off the band with his other hand— stupid, stupid! —which only doubled his pain when the flesh of his fingers and palm joined his wrist in burning, practically melting his flesh away.
“Give me your wrist!” shouted someone— Julien? —but Cinn had enough sense to spare them his agony, and swung his arm in the opposite direction.
Then, a new sensation began. One of terror. One of dread, creeping slowly through him.
Limbs failing him, he tumbled to the ground, looked up to find most of his vision consumed by black, the umbraphage’s form spreading out in front of him like an angel of death.
And then, all pain, all the noise, every single sensation faded away, as he slipped away from the world.