Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) (43 page)

Imagine my delight when I found out, in my hands I held such
power.
What was once billed as the world’s miracle machine”—he raises his arms—“was, in truth, a silent killer.

People flocked in droves and paid great sums of money to lie beneath the Ray, believing it would cure them, when actually it was nothing but a cruel joke. The Ray wasn’t saving them, it was slowly killing them.

And now, not only will I possess the power to decide who lives or dies, I’ll hold the secret to the antidote, too. Just think how much people would pay to cure themselves, once they realized they’d been such fools.”

“You’ll never own it. I’ll never give it to you.”

“You’ll give it to me,”—he pulls a gun from his pocket, and cocks it next to Urlick’s head—“or I take his life.”

“Don’t give it to him, Eyelet,” Urlick shouts. “He won’t shoot me! He’s too much of a coward!”

“Shut UP!” Smrt smacks him in the head with the gun.

Blood bursts from Urlick’s temple.

“Hand it over, or he dies.”

“Don’t do it, Eyelet! He’s only bluffing.”

I gasp, my head swinging between the two of them.

“Your choice.” Smrt moves his finger to the trigger of his gun. “Your pendant in exchange for your boyfriend’s life. Or death for the both of you.”

“Wait!” I shout. I un-loop the chain from my neck and toss it across the room.

“No, Eyelet!
Don’t!”
Urlick screams.

The vial lopes, tumbling slowly through the air, too far to the side for Smrt to be able to catch it. My plan all along.

Smrt lunges for it. Urlick leaps on his back. They spin, Urlick clawing at Smrt’s eyes. “Shoot him!” Smrt shouts.

Flossie’s gun goes off, grazing Urlick in the leg.

I race at her, heart pounding, and kick the gun from her hands.

Eyelet!” Urlick screams, Smrt on his back driving punches into his side. “The journals!”

I turn to see Flossie racing from the room, my father’s journals pressed tight to her chest. I hitch up my skirts and charge after her. “Urlick!” I turn back at the door.

Smrt’s hands are on Urlick’s throat. Urlick’s back is draped over the controls. The Illuminator’s panel is flashing—red.

“I’ve got this!” Urlick shouts. “Go after the journals!” He throws a solid left into Smrt’s jaw.

F
ifty

Eyelet

I turn and race up the stairs, out into the Vapours, no time to search for a mask, and chase after Flossie through the splotchy fog, hurdling logs, tree trunks, and bushes. It soon becomes clear I’ll never catch her—Flossie’s gotten too much of a lead. I slow, my eye catching on something glinting in a stand of trees on the outskirts of the Core. White bone wrapped in brambles.

“Bertie?”

The cycle whimpers, his frame shuddering. He rears and bucks but can’t get loose. Someone has tangled him up in the thicket and left him to fight his way out. “Smrt,” I grumble as I race toward Bertie, “it had to be him.”

I reach the base of the trees in seconds. Thorns stick me as I try to part the branches. “Hold on,” I say to Bertie, yanking the nail file from my pocket. I hack and slice at the branches with the file’s edge.

Bertie jounces, breaking himself free, spilling breathless out onto the path.

“Good boy!” I say, patting his handlebars. “Though I’m positive Urlick told you to stay put,” I lean over, whispering in his ear, “I’m glad you don’t listen to him either. You up for a little chase?” Bertie trundles. “Good, because we can’t afford to let her get away.”

I throw my leg over the seat and jump on the pedals, guiding Bertie off through the woods at a magnificent speed. Steering through the tangled underbrush, maneuvering past rock and tree, through the blackening fog.

I give a fleeting thought to the Infirmed, but then erase it. Whatever it takes, I can’t let Flossie get away.

Within seconds I have Flossie in sight, spotting her sapphire coat shimmering through the foggy drape. Gaining on her, I pull up to a stand, pedaling harder, pushing Bertie to his limit. Using a rock as a ramp, I yank back on the handlebars, launching Bertie and I up into the air over her head.

Flossie cranks around, her face awash with panic.

I lean out from the cycle, and jump.

Her skirts pulled high, Flossie pours on the speed.

I pounce, catching her by the knees. My chin bounces off the ground as I haul her to the earth, journals spilling from her hands. We roll in a tight ball of tangled arms and legs, journals scattered across the forest floor, pages fluttering in the wind.

When at last we stop, I punch her hard in the stomach and scramble to my feet, lunging after the journals. Stuffing them down the front of my jacket—I hear the cock of a gun.

“You don’t know when to give up, do you?” Flossie seethes.

I whirl around to find her behind the snout of a lady’s silver pistol. Her eyes are small and mean. Twigs sprout like wires from her hair. Muck streaks her sapphire coat. Her harelip is torn and bloodied.

“Stubborn little bitch, aren’t you?” she spits.

“I could say the same of you.” My eyes narrow.

“But you won’t, because in a moment you’ll never speak again.” She stalks toward me, closes in, pistol wobbling in her shaky hands. “Pity Urlick isn’t here to see this.” She squeezes one eye shut, sizing me up over the barrel of the gun. “I so wanted to see his expression as I put a bullet through your
heart.
Or perhaps I should wait and kill you both together, like the traitors you are. So much more Romeo and Juliet that way, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You know very well what you’ve done. Before you, Urlick and I were perfectly happy.” Her brows dance wickedly over her eyes. “All my life I’ve wanted only
one
thing. Someone to love me. I always thought that someone would be Urlick—until
you s
howed up and ruined
everything!
You
and your
pet
name and your
fancy
face and your
whorish
way of dress!” Her eyes traipse up and down my frame, stopping to judge my short skirt in the middle. “Everything was fine between us until
you
came and
stole
his affections from me.”

“I stole nothing. You never had them—”

“That’s not
true!”
Her bloody lip quivers. “You know nothing of him! Nothing of me! Nothing of us—”

“I know even with me out of the way he will never love you, because he never
did
—”

“
Shut up
and hand over the journals you filthy, lying wench.”

“What do you want with the journals? I thought you only wanted me dead?”

“Stop talking and hand them over.” She cocks the hammer of the gun. Something rustles in the trees.

Behind her head I see the lights of their eyes glowing white through the darkness. A thick grey cloud forms behind her, rising wave-like out of the fog. Gnarled fingers curl, reaching for her. Lizard-like tongues lick the air.

I search the trees over my head to see more peering down on me. Fiendish eyes track our every move.

“Flossie,” I say, breathlessly. “You need to listen to me—”

“I’m done listening to you.”

“It’s the Turned,” I say. “They’ve tracked us. You must believe me.”

A low, throaty moan spirals past, splitting into two by the end of the clearing, doubling back. Flossie’s head jerks, tracking the sound as it swoops back over her head.

“We can’t let them surround us.” I shiver. “If we don’t move soon, we’re dead.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I speak the truth and you
know
it. Now put the gun down and run with me. It’s the only chance we’ll have.”

“And if I don’t?”

“We’ll both be eaten.”

“You
lie!
Just as you always have.” She raises the gun and prepares to shoot me. Another moan ricochets through the trees.

Flossie’s head shoots up. A hand lands on my shoulder. I twist away. Laughter breaks through the trees. Before either of us can draw another breath, the mist behind her comes alive. The faces of twenty or more gape-mouthed ghouls swoop and swirl about her head and mine.

They cackle and howl, poking us, taunting us, like cats worrying mice before a feast. Flossie screams, punching at the air, dropping the pistol to the ground.

I lunge for it, sending a warning shot off above my head to clear the air of spirits, and turn to run, but Flossie drags me back. I've no choice. It's either her or me.

Turning, I throw my hands into her chest, saving myself—sacrificing Flossie to the Turned.

A look of horror etches across her mole-ridden face as I turn to run. Bertie catches up with me by the end of the clearing. I throw a leg over his frame and ride away as fast as I can, haunted by the sound of Flossie’s screams as they drag her off across the forest floor to feed.

F
ifty one

Eyelet

My feet are as wobbly as jelly beneath me. It’s all I can do to pedal. I push on for the Core, praying Bertie’s got enough wind left in him to get me there. We don’t dare stop. He takes over quickly, sensing my exhaustion, doubling our pace through the trees.

“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning over him.

Bertie groans, then sighs with relief.

He zigzags his way through the forest, avoiding stumps and slicks. I’m thankful he knows where we’re going. At least I hope he does.

The air suddenly grows too hot, too thick, too hard to breathe. The lining of my lungs burns. The forest is steadily growing hotter, yet there’s no sign of fire. I don’t understand what’s happening.

I pedal on, the lace trim on my skirts withering to nothing in the infernal wind, as if they’ve melted off the fabric’s edge.

“Bertie!” I shout. “What
is
this? What’s happening?”

Bertie shudders, struggling to breathe, the lacquer from his handlebars peeling.

I look up to see a green beam of light radiating through the trees, shooting up from the ground in a perfect circle. It cuts through the dense fog, illuminating the heavens above in a ring around the Core—or what’s left of it—creating a halo around the rubble. Heat emanates in waves from it sides, scorching out into the forest.

“Oh, no,” I gasp. “No. No no. This can’t be happening. We’ve got to get there, Bertie. We’ve got to stop this, quick!” I jump on the pedals, leaning out over the handlebars, my skin bubbling from the heat.

A churn of gears, and the earth on either side of the door to the Core tears open, revealing two giant holes. The Crookes tube appears through a third, in the middle, just behind the door. The earth cracks and breaks all around it. The ground trembles as the Crookes tube rises up out of the burrow, cradled in its metal stand, the needle-nosed snout aimed at the Heavens. “Good God,” I gasp.

I race harder, Bertie gasping as I pour on the speed. The closer we get, the more the sulfuric stench of the Vapours turns metallic, stinging my nostrils and pulling away my breath.

Tree limbs steam and smolder. Voltage jumps.

“Oh, God! It’s happening!” I fall back on the seat. “The machine, it’s been activated!”

The ground shakes beneath, throwing the cycle’s tires into a wobbly mess. I nearly lose control. From out of the slats in the earth around the entrance to the Core rise two gigantic mechanical arms. Massive hands stretch from the ends of them, reaching creakily skyward. Each holds an enormous brass bar—a conductor—like the ones mounted on the front of the original Illuminator. Circular canisters of silver powder appear next, as long and tall as rooftops.

“Fairy petrol,” I say, in disbelief. “Hundreds of thousands of pounds of it.”

I bend my head into the scorching wind, driving Bertie forward. My hair blows back from my shoulders, from the force of the massive spinning disks as they rise.
The Illuminator.

We’re running out of time.

Wires crackle at the sides of the disks. Sparks leap. Lightning jumps the length of the wires onto cables connected to the main structure.

“Urlick!” I power the cycle forward in a burst of speed. “Urlick!
Get out of there!”

Bertie balks as we approach the rim of green light. I leap from the cycle, dashing through it alone. “URLICK!” I scream, searching for him.
“URRRRLICK! NOOOoooooo!”

My eyes land on him struggling with Smrt near the edge of the ravine, backing slowly toward the frothy black cauldron of Embers.