Histories of the Void Garden, Book 1: Pyre of Dreams (32 page)

As his father
paced the floor of the oval office, Tiernan wondered when he had
really stopped thinking of him as a father figure. The process had
been gradual, starting with his earliest understanding of his
father’s fallibility; a rationalization and acknowledgment of the
many mistakes his father had made. His first meeting with West was
a turning point, certainly. Never before had he met a man who was
more powerful, more in touch with the world than his father.
Perhaps this was the reason he still felt such a burning desire to
know what West was doing.

He gazed at the
woven carpet, the patriotic iconography, the trappings of the
presidential office and he felt his impatience grow to a shivering
fever pitch. “David Beach has fled Washington.” He looked up and
made eye contact with his father, “Is it Julien Beach? Did he come
to his son’s aid?”

“I don’t think
so.”

Tiernan’s eyes
fell back to the carpet, “Then you think it’s West?”

Lucas Miller
shifted his weight uneasily, taking a step back from his son,
“Ahken, two FBI agents were taken out of action, both Blood-Brood,
both hand picked by you. They called me a little under an hour ago
… I called you, then I called the others. Agent Carmichael informed
me that their assailant offered extreme unction, before introducing
himself rather grandiosely as the grounds keeper of the void
garden.”

“Where are they
now?”

“They’re
heading back to report in. After they left, Hicks sent me a text to
say the FBI picked up a call from Hannah Beach, and preliminary
traces indicate that David is in New York. That information marries
up rather well with Carmichael’s other tidbit.”

“Which
was?”

“An exotic car
with New York plates was parked outside the Beach’s residence.”

“I take it
you’ve tasked a squad from Arctum?”

Lucas Miller
exhaled slowly, “The DC Bureau has been handling this investigation
so far. They don’t have an exact location on Beach yet, but if we
just let them do their jobs, we can have an infill squad from
Arctum meet up with them.”

Tiernan’s voice
came softer now, and more menacing for its stillness, “You should
have killed David Beach at the first opportunity. This is your
failing.”

“We needed to
know if he was in league with Julien.”

Tiernan brushed
his hands over the smooth surface of the desk, “Why? What does that
matter? I told you in March that whether or not Julien had involved
his son, killing David would only further the narrative.”

Lucas Miller
stood motionless, mesmerized by his son’s lack of humanity. Of
course, there had never been a moral compass. His son had been
brought up with the teachings of Antrusca, narrow and clear,
allowing no room for questions of faith. Antrusca’s word was
science, fact and law. When Allim fell, Ahken had turned to his own
dream, the Somnium Mirificum to guide him, but there was no
morality there. For Ahken, the events of the great dream became his
covenant, and any attempt to pervert the dream was heresy. His son
had never needed him, because he had lived beyond the scope of
morality. He stared into his son’s cold blue eyes, “What narrative?
The dream is over Ahken. There is no narrative anymore. You’re just
marching towards damnation, and you’re bent upon taking the whole
bloody world with you.”

“How do you not
understand this ? Hmm?” Sitting calmly behind the desk, Tiernan
continued, “We have been delivered to them so that they may
worship. The dream ended with the world in our hands, the children
of the delvers enthroned, the bastards of the void bent to our
desires. We’ve watched for eons as they refined and whittled away
at their philosophies, ever searching for a Saviour who could lead
them, ever grasping at straw gods. Why were we delivered upon this
time if not to be raised up?” He licked his lips, savoring his
father’s turmoil, “How perfect, that we should be returned to them.
How righteous shall be our rule. That narrative father. The only
narrative that doesn’t make calamity of so long a life.”

Lucas Miller
watched as his son’s eyes took on a glassy, forlorn look to them.
He couldn’t help but wonder if this was mere manipulation on his
part. Even if he believed in Ahken wholly, he knew that he must
challenge his reasoning. Without someone standing as an advocate
for the devil, he was certain that his son had the capacity to
believe unswervingly in his own place in the universe, “You’re not
a god Ahken. You’re barely even a man. You’re blind to the
devastation that will be wrought by your ambitions. You think that
the people of this world are so easily swayed in their faith,
because you’ve never had faith in anything but yourself.”

Allan Tiernan
leaned into the chair back, smiling dryly, “You aren’t
responsible.”

“Pardon?”

Tiernan
smirked, malice whistling white noise in his ears, “You think
you’ve created a monster, and you’re forgetting that I was a
monster of my own making, many times over. I am as I have ever
been. My redemption will come in their salvation.” His eyebrows
arched impishly as he watched his father make to leave the office,
heading towards the impromptu conference which had been called for
White house correspondents, “Prepare my way father. Today is born a
new pantheon.”

Stephanie Beach
dragged Stanwick in tow, her hand trailing out behind her as her
feet slapped short, fast footsteps. Stephanie didn’t know where she
was going, but north on Madison Avenue seemed as good a bet as any
in her search for a deli. Her eyes passed quickly over the glowing
sign for a 7-Eleven, dubious that their hallowed cooler cabinets
would be home to anything resembling a good cut of steak. Onward
she marched, fueled by a delirious third wind, sniffing the air in
some vague hope that she’d be led like a cartoon dog on the trail
of an enticing scent.

West felt
disinclined to mention that they were walking away from several
fine grocery stores; his mind was filled with the bleary morning
chatter of the city, the voices of a million world weary souls
dragging themselves into action. He wondered how much longer it
would be before their world was turned entirely on its head. For
some of them it had already began. He heard Tiernan’s name on the
wind, felt the growing buzz of hearts awakening to the possibility
that there was something magical in their world, something
spiritual beyond the scope of their overburdened imaginings. He was
thrilled. He knew that Stanwick felt that same quickening, her
heart pounding with the first distant shots of the battle.

Their fearless
little leader headed west on 36th, then south on 5th avenue.
Charlene called ahead to Stanwick, alerting her to the presence of
a deli on the far side of the street, and with a gentle tug in the
right direction Stanwick guided Stephanie’s attention to her mark.
With wide clean windows boasting deliciously stocked cooler
cabinets, and nestled as it was between two cheap gift shops which
catered to clueless tourists, ‘9th Street on 5th’ seemed completely
misplaced. West shopped there often enough, and was given to wonder
which city had lost it’s beautiful 9th Street deli, because he knew
it certainly wasn’t Manhattan.

“Can you believe this
shit?”

The deli clerk
didn’t turn away from the flat screen when the door chimes alerted
him to customers. However, the sound of a child’s feet slapping
excitedly across the tiled floor did give him pause, “Pardon my
French,” he turned his head slightly, eyes still riveted on the
news reporter, “but this is some nutso way to start the day.”

West stopped at
the counter by the door, watching the worker as he waved his hand,
long fingers fidgeting carefully as he summoned up a dizzying array
of smaller images, rows of news stations all broadcasting the same
image; President Lucas Miller standing behind a small podium, an
American flag hanging behind him on the left of each little screen.
West took hold of Stanwick’s shoulder as she made to walk past him,
and she came to a standstill, with Charlene and David both huddling
beside her. All eyes on the TV, the worker pointed to one of the
small images, and it filled the screen now.

“Do you folks
mind?” He finally turned to see who had graced his establishment
with their presence. He leaned over the counter, squinting at West,
“Ho ho holy crap… Rapunzel no more.”

West shook his
head, “You mean Rasputin?”

The clerk
looked at West like he was a moron, “Rapunzel dummy… chick with all
the hair. Who the fuck are you talking about?” He leaned further
across the counter, “I’m just shitting you bro.” He offered a hand
of friendship which West accepted gladly. Pleasantries exchanged,
the clerk’s eyes flitted impatiently in the direction of the TV.
West nodded, feigning indifference.

“Don’t mind
us.”

Raising his
hand with his palm facing the ceiling, the worker turned up the
volume of the TV until Lucas Miller’s voice filled the store.

“ … Members of
the House of Representatives and fellow Americans, thank you for
your patience, your courage and your faith this morning. As a
nation, we find ourselves in an unusual position today. Barely has
any
one
of us had time to come to terms with our grieving
over the loss of President Tiernan, a man who filled each one of us
with a passioned sense of hope … hope for America’s future … hope
for the growing spirit of cooperation between the nations of the
world. Barely have we begun to understand how to take those first
steps towards healing, as a nation. We have all looked for sense …
for peace in the aftermath of a tragedy which has effected every
man, woman and child on this planet.” He paused, resting both hands
on the podium as he allowed his words to ferment in the minds of
his listeners.

“Our nation
awoke this morning, as if from a dream of mourning a loved one; we
awoke to confusion and questions. We are not alone. Fifteen other
nations awoke from that same dream …”

He paused
again, his eyes unwavering as he looked at the array of
cameras.

“There have
been events throughout the history of our nation that have given
rise to insidious whisperings of conspiracy and subterfuge. If, for
reasons of national security, an administration is unable to
disclose all of the information available to them pertaining to a
matter of public significance, there will
always
be people
who fill those gaps in understanding with that hateful utterance,
‘conspiracy’. As I stand before you today, I intend to put paid to
any such talk about President Allan Tiernan and his
administration.” Now, he made sure he took some time to look
directly into the lenses of each of the network broadcast cameras,
“On March 10th, Sixteen of the world’s presidents and prime
ministers
were
assassinated by what we now believe to have
been one man acting alone. On this day …”

President
Miller bowed his head, readying himself before looking back to the
cameras, “On
this
day, those sixteen men and women, each of
them taken from their people before their time … Each one of them
has returned to their people; returned from whence it is not in my
power to say. Let this be a matter for theological discourse … Let
this be a subject for philosophical debate. My fellow citizens, in
years to come do
not
discuss these events in hushed and
conspiratorial tones, rather remember today’s events as a rebirth,
a renaissance of consciousness. On
this
day …” He raised his
right hand from the podium and started to emphasize his words with
strong gestures, “
Your
president … President Allan Tiernan …
has been returned to you …”

The deli clerk
waved the TV into silence, muttering to himself, “They can keep
him, wherever he’s been.”

West laughed,
“You weren’t a fan?”

The man pulled
on his waist band as he turned, “Nah, he don’t give a rats ass
about the little man, ‘n Miller’s no different.” He picked up a
bottle of disinfectant and wiped down the counter in front of him
as he talked, “I ain’t no Wall Street economist, but I sure as shit
know that one world currency malarkey don’t wash.”

Stanwick smiled
and nodded, patting West’s back as she followed Charlene and David
down one of the small isles of groceries. West hitched his thumb
towards the cooler cabinets, “Your steaks fresh in?”

“Four O’clock
delivery bro. What kind of establishment do you think I’m running
here huh?”

West smirked,
“I don’t come here because you’re cheap, that’s for sure.”

The man nodded
in the direction of the isles, “Family?”

“Of sorts.”

“Say no more.
Who’d have ‘em eh?”

West smirked as
he tried to recall some small detail about the clerk he’d met
numerous times before, “How’s your better half?”

The man rolled
his eyes, “You’re looking at it, and you god damn know it. My
lunatic alter ego is out window shopping with her rat bastard
sister.”

“Well, as long
as it’s window shopping right?” West laughed.

“Yeah, except
her whole family thinks window shopping is where you go out and buy
every piece of crap you see in the window.”

West tilted his
head towards the isles, “With those words of wisdom in mind …”

The man nodded
knowingly, “Yeah bud, you go keep ‘em in check.”

They waited until they
were out on the street, groceries in hand, before any of them
broached the subject of the news broadcast. Charlene, who had been
fighting the urge to grab West by his shoulders and shake an
explanation out of him, somehow managed to subdue herself and ask
in a rushed whisper, “Does someone mind explaining what we just saw
in there?”

“Breakfast.”
Offered Stephanie, rather unhelpfully.