Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (9 page)

“Apparently I’m a medical mystery.”

Pridament studied Gwynn.

“Are you just being released?”

“No, I’ve been out for a few days.” The reason for Gwynn’s visit, Sophia’s terrible condition, hit him hard. He said in a cracked whisper, “I was here visiting a friend.”

“Sophia Murray?”

Gwynn just nodded.

“I heard about it.” Pridament’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry. You look shaken. Did she say something to you?”

Sophia’s frantic words played through Gwynn’s mind. No matter how he turned them around, they made no sense.

“It was just gibberish.”

“Tell me something Gwynn,” Pridament’s eyes and voice were intense, “have there been some, um, odd things going on with you the past couple of days? You seem a bit disoriented.”

“It’s just been a bit much. I think I just need some more rest.”

Pridament didn’t seem convinced. “Do me a favor, take my card. I’d like the chance to finish our talk. Sooner than later, okay?”

Gwynn took the card and slipped it into his pocket. “Sure. Right. I’ll call soon. Seeya.”

Gwynn plunged through the hospital doors into the biting November air. The cold wind stabbed his exposed flesh leaving it feeling raw. On a normal day that would have been annoying. Today he imagined the cold eating away the darkness that clung to his skin.

Forget a cab. He didn’t need the risk of someone being chatty. He opted for the quiet anonymity of the bus.

The bus arrived with just a few passengers congregating near the front. Gwynn went for the solitude of the back seat. The swaying rhythm of the bus moving through traffic soothed his battered soul. He closed his eyes, drifting in the between places of waking and sleep.

A growl.

At first, Gwynn dismissed it as traffic noise. The next time it came, it sounded nearer, urgent. Gwynn snapped his eyes open. The passengers at the front of the bus were looking at him with hungry, feline eyes.

Gwynn
rushed from the hospital. Whatever had transpired between him and Sophia had left the boy rattled. Pridament had inspected Sophia’s chart after his first meeting with Gwynn. There’d been little of significance noted about her injuries and nothing noted about her mental state. That had changed two days ago when she had returned because of an emotional breakdown. But how did he miss news of Gwynn’s release? Could someone be keeping things out of official channels?

Pridament made his way to the elevator. He reached into his pocket, reassuring himself that he still had his forged identification. The world operated on simple rules—if you looked the part, acted the part, and carried the right pieces of laminated paper and plastic, you could access anywhere.

The elevator doors shuddered as they opened. The hallway, white and oppressive in its facelessness, lead to a double door where a pin pad waited to allow access. Pridament punched in the code and waited. The doors swung open with a low electric hum. On the other side, an orderly sat at a desk. Pridament approached the man and flashed his credentials.

“I’m here to see Sophia Murray.”

The orderly raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re not a doctor assigned to this ward.”

Pridament had played harder roles. One rule served him in all of them; never appear flustered.

“Yes, you’re right. See, the girl came in a few days ago to the emergency.” Pridament leaned in closer, his voice hushed and conspiratorial. “When I found out she had been readmitted, I just wanted to check on her.”

The orderly wore a sly smile. “Just making sure you didn’t miss anything doc?”

If only his credentials were real, just so he could report this useless excuse for an employee. Breathe, he told himself. Remember the rules. Pridament gave the man a wink, “I’m in the clear bud, but the other doc on with me, well, you know how it is.”

The orderly nodded knowingly. It’s not me, it’s my friend. Power lay in using cliché excuses. For whatever reason, it always made people more understanding. Maybe because they had used it themselves, or because it made them feel a small part of the deception. People, no matter the world, liked being a part of conspiracies, especially if they could do so from a safe distance.

The orderly led Pridament down the hall. To his right, a small waiting room where a woman, a visitor, dozed in one of the chairs. He caught sight of her for a brief moment, but he recognized the agony in her posture. A parent, thinking her child was lost forever. Yes, he knew the signs of that pain all too well.

“Popular girl today.” The orderly said. “You’re in luck. We made her presentable for her last visitor. She doesn’t seem to care much about her looks nowadays.”

Pridament mustered a weak smile.

The door shut behind Pridament, the orderly promising to return in ten minutes. If the girl noticed him, she made no sign. He took in the display of art on the walls. He shuddered as he recognized some, and felt thankful he had never run into others. The bulk of the art shared a dark swirling pattern. Pridament knew it well. He pitied the girl. Lovecraft had been right, “When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you.”

Still, it made little sense. If Gwynn’s account of events was true, the girl had been within proximity of the tear for a few minutes. How could it have fried her mind in such a short time?

Pridament knelt in front of her. He almost fell back when the girl’s eyes locked onto his with a fierce intensity. Her gaze held him in place, pulling deep at the essence in his core.

“Know Thyself.” She said.

“What did you say?” Pridament trembled.

“He will go with them, and you need to let it happen.”

“Who? Who’s going and with whom?”

“You cannot finish his journey with him, but he will lead you to the end of yours.”

Pridament couldn’t speak. Then the connection severed, and the girl’s gaze fell onto some distant place that Pridament couldn’t see.

“Sophia?” She was gone, lost to whatever inner demons tormented her.

Pridament stood up and moved behind her. “Sophia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I just need to check something. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Pridament pulled the girls hair up to inspect the back of her neck. Hidden just above her hairline, he found the birthmark. His stomach lurched.

“What the hell have they done?”

He let her hair drop at the sound of someone approaching the door.

“Everything okay doc?” The orderly asked as he entered.

Breathe. How could something so vital and natural be so easy to neglect?

“Yes, fine. Seems my friend has nothing to worry about.” Did the orderly notice how he forced his smile?

The man smirked and escorted Pridament out of the ward. The doors groaned as they closed behind him. The arteries in his neck throbbed with the racing of his pulse. This was bad. No, beyond bad. He had sensed that first day with Gwynn that someone had been orchestrating events. But to this extent? He had some answers, but those were leading to more questions, which all led somewhere dark and frightening.

He pondered his next move when his phone started buzzing. He picked up and listened to the frantic voice on the other end.

“Gwynn?”

§

Gwynn leaped to
his feet and pulled hard on the emergency signal. The bus came screeching to a halt, throwing the passengers who had started to creep toward him back. Gwynn dashed for the closest door and fell out of it.

He hit the ground hard and scrambled to twist and face any potential attackers. Only normal, confused, human faces greeted him.

Gwynn drew his breath in ragged gasps. It seemed an eternity before the doors shut and the bus continued on its way. He fumbled in his pockets until he found Pridament’s card. The phone number listed was unlike anything he had seen, just a series of numbers that formed no familiar pattern. He pulled out his cell and dialed.

When the line connected, Gwynn didn’t even allow the person on the other side to speak. Words fell out of his mouth; mad rantings about monsters and shadows. After he’d spewed out a number of sentences, he managed to grab hold of himself and take a desperate breath.

“Gwynn?” Hearing the warm, baritone voice on the other side of the phone loosened the tightness in his chest.

“Pridament,” Gwynn tried to control the anxiety in his voice, “I lied. I need help. Can I meet with you?”

A moment of silence on the other end. Despite Pridament’s affection for Gwynn’s parents, he had to be weighing the pros and cons of getting further involved with their insane son.

“Where are you now?” Pridament asked.

Gwynn made a frantic search for street signs.

“Queen and Highway 10.”

“There should be a strip mall on the corner. I’ll meet you at the coffee shop there in ten minutes. OK?”

“Sure. Yeah. Thanks.”

Gwynn snapped his phone shut and crossed the road to the strip mall. It took him a while to find the coffee shop. It wasn’t even big enough to qualify as a hole in the wall, the kind of place that stayed open through sheer force of will. Inside did little to inspire him to sample their pitiful display of pastries and doughnuts. Someone had pasted mirrors on one wall in a sad attempt at making the space appear larger. Perhaps it would work if someone cleaned off the grime. The parts of the walls that were painted had numerous chips and scratches. Gwynn shuddered at the thought using the washroom.

Gwynn ordered a large coffee. Not that his nerves needed any caffeine. But being the only customer, he didn’t feel comfortable sitting without having something.

The lone employee seemed far more interested in a phone conversation than her workplace.

Within five minutes, Pridament arrived. He ordered something and joined Gwynn at a back table.

“I remember this place being a lot nicer.” Pridament said.

“Maybe twenty years ago.”

The older man laughed. “You might be right. Still…” He sipped his coffee. “The coffee tastes just as good.” Pridament adopted a serious air. “How can I help?”

“When I met you the first time,” Gwynn’s voice wavered with anxiety, “you started telling me a story. I need you to finish it. I’ve been seeing things… I… I’ve been feeling out of control. I need to know what’s going on.”

Pridament leaned forward and rested his head on his steepled fingers. He remained silent, his eyes probing Gwynn, who squirmed in his seat. After a few minutes, he leaned back and shrugged off his jacket.

“Perhaps the first thing you should know,” Pridament pushed up his sleeve. Symbols similar to those on Gwynn’s arm formed a circle around Pridament’s forearm. “You aren’t alone. What I’m telling you I’ve learned because I’ve lived it as well.”

Gwynn inspected the symbols on Pridament’s arm.

“Why do mine cover my entire arm? At least yours just looks like some crazy tattoo.”

Pridament gave a dry chuckle.

“Among our people, you’re considered the lucky one. Mine is incomplete. I’m just a Fragment. Yours is the full deal; a Script.”

Gwynn tore at his already tangled hair.

“Let’s get something straight. I’m losing my mind, okay? I’m not interested in riddles or names. I just want to understand what is happening and how I stop it.”

“You don’t stop it.” Pridament’s eyes held compassion, but his voice left no room for negotiation. “This is who you are. Before, I started telling you about the history of our people, but I’ll cut straight to the chase. The symbols on your arm are the story of creation.”

Gwynn sighed and let his arms flop on the table. His coffee shuddered as the table wobbled on the uneven floor. Why couldn’t this just be like going to the doctor and handed your diagnosis? ‘Gee, Gwynn, you have freakitis. You’ll grow three heads and die alone in a cave.’ Done. Simple. Straight forward.

“You can’t make this simple, can you?”

Pridament shook his head. “Nope.”

“Fine.” Gwynn waved his hand. “Keep going.”

Pridament cleared his throat. “What do you know about the soul?”

Gwynn blinked. “What?”

“The soul. The energy within you.”

“Wait.” Gwynn’s voice elevated. “First you tell me some nutso story about being a god, and now you want to talk about my soul? What kind of crazy religious shit are you trying to sell?”

“The kind of crazy that’ll save your ass. So answer my damned question.”

Gwynn froze in stunned silence. Pridament’s voice hovered just above a whisper, yet every word carried an intensity that battered Gwynn like physical blows.

Pridament’s eyes drilled him with expectation. Gwynn’s mind played with options. He almost persuaded himself to walk out, but the man’s presence, his force of will, kept Gwynn rooted. Despite his growing apprehension, he had to admit that only Pridament seemed capable of helping explain this mess. He drew a long breath and let it out slowly, ticking off the seconds until his lungs were empty. He reached ten. Another breath.

“The soul is some kind of energy. It’s supposed to be what makes us who we are.”

Pridament nodded. “Good. But you don’t believe any of it, right?”

“Not really.” Gwynn shrugged. “Probably because I don’t follow any religion.”

“The concept of the soul, or life energy, is widespread. There’s Chi, Atmas, Jeeva, Hun and Po, just to name a few. You’ll find that myths, legends, and even some religious ideas like a soul, have some basis in reality. Regarding the soul specifically, I can say it is true. Our physical forms contain the threads of an energy that is far greater and more powerful than our frail bodies can hold. The bulk of that energy lives within the Veil.”

“The what?”

Pridament shook his head. “So much to explain.” He rubbed his temples. “In this world, the Nazis lost World War Two. Can you imagine a world where they won?”

“I don’t think I’d want to.”

“Well, you don’t need to imagine it. Because a version of Earth exists where the Nazis did win. Just like there’s a version of Earth where the dinosaurs still rule the world. There are countless versions of Earth. Maybe as many as every choice any person ever made. The Veil is what keeps those different realities separate. The Veil is a realm of pure energy that we can’t see. The Veil is the seat of the soul, the energy of creation, and those symbols on your arm connect you to it like a plug in a socket.”