The Burn (16 page)

"Where are all of your friends? Did they leave you here like this?"

"Like what?"

"Cecilia, Jesus."

"I have new friends now."

He paused, looking down at her. "What new friends?"

"It's a big secret." She laughed. "Shhh."

He stared at her, a sickening feeling forming in his stomach. "Are your new friends in this camp?"

"Seth, fuck, stop talking to me like I was two," she snapped, swaying on the couch then smiling as two women walked by. "You're so beautiful," she murmured to them.

They smiled back.

"Do you remember what you took?" he asked.

"Of course I remember. You want some? I have another tab. C'mon Seth, I want to touch you, you know? We can have sex. God, it would feel so good right now. Why not, you know, like we used to? Like old times."

"Stop it," he said harshly.

"What? Now I disgust you or something?"

"That's not it."

"Then what? It's her? Is that it?"

"It's you and I," he said carefully. "That's just not where we are any more."

"C'mon," she replied, smiling. "Don't be so serious. We're here, right now, the two of us. That's where we are."

He held her gaze then shook his head. "I'm somewhere else."

Her smile faded, her eyes narrowing. "Fine. I've got someone else anyway, and he's deeper than you, way more interesting than you. He's not some guy who shows up to Burning Man and tries to score with the first girl he sees. He's got more class than that. He's rich too, and he gets it. He understands—"

He barely heard her, his attention distracted by a quick struggle of movement from behind the stage scaffolding. Shapes appeared and disappeared in the darkness, the motion of their bodies strained and violent. A raw shout rose above the music, then cut short.

Seth stood in place, unsure of what he had seen. Then a few of the shadows seemed to disperse before his eyes, cloaked figures slipping from the space behind the scaffolding and vanishing into the crowd.

"Pete," Seth said between his teeth, feeling the nauseating drop in his stomach.

"Because he's in charge of this entire camp," Cecilia yelled at his back. "And everyone here respects the hell out of him. He's a participant, you know? He gives back to the burners. He's not some sculptor who doesn't get it, what it means to be a Burner. So many people don't get it. You just have to tell them how it really is. But you… you've always had your head up your ass. This was the biggest mistake of your life and you're gonna figure it out too late. You're—"

"Stay here," he told her, still focused on the darkness under the scaffolding. "Right here."

She cursed at him and he ignored her, cutting into the throng of dancers and shouldering his way to the scaffolding. He ducked under the metal supports and peered into the darkness around him, seeing nothing. There was no one there.

He released a tense breath, expecting to feel some measure of relief that refused to come. He could have been mistaken, could have misinterpreted what he saw, but something in him knew that wasn't the case.

Turning back, his gaze caught a dark stain on one of the supports. He froze, then crouched down, touching the wet metal with his hand. A moist blotch smudged under his fingers, its texture oily and red.

He drew back, glaring into the surrounding shadows.

No one was there.

Grimacing, he glanced across the dance area, his gaze seeking Cecilia. Through the movement of dancers, he could make out a young couple kissing on the couch, the faded cushions around them vacant.

She was gone.

"Cecilia!" he yelled, climbing out from under the scaffolding. He pushed through the crowd, jostling the writhing crush of dancers, the press and sweat of their bodies jammed against him.

He turned in all directions, breathing hard through his teeth as he searched for her. The speakers behind him pounded an aggressive rhythm through his chest, the dark bass tones playing to fear and adrenaline.

Cutting his gaze to the Gate, he could see her on the stairs, heading toward the entrance. Her gait was halting and uneven, her balance failing her. She pushed ahead, determined.

"Cecilia," he growled, forcing his way through the crowd. "Don't you do that. Don't you go in there to find him."

Cecilia disappeared through the dark entrance.

He swore, knowing that it was a trap, knowing that they would be waiting for him and he shouldn't just follow her in like this, right through the entrance. He simply had no choice.

* * *

Ducking into the tight metal hallway of the Gate, Seth drew a careful breath, his attention focused on the shadows ahead. The heavy bulkheads reflected a dull shine from the lanterns, a soft hum reverberating through the walls and floor grates. The air was thick, humid and metallic.

Cecilia was nowhere in sight.

He walked slowly down the corridor, trying to ignore the ghostly sound of whispering that seemed to follow him. Glancing at the intricate symbols marking the metal, he felt a chill of recognition, Miranda's hushed explanations surfacing from the dark.
Their souls are ingrained in the metal.

"Souls," he repeated, forcing his gaze away.

It was impossible to accept that this thing was what she had described, a crypt, a machine, a gate between worlds that was somehow powered by captive souls. How could anything like that exist? Who could've built it?

It didn't make sense, but neither did the memory of her vanishing in his arms, a breathless apology lingering in her place. The reality of what was possible was of no use to him now.

The doors along the interior wall were closed. A spiraling staircase appeared at the end of the corridor, its railings sculpted to appear like human figures reaching for each other, their bodies elongated and distorted by an artist's vision.

Seth glanced back down the hallway, then focused on the stairs. Unless she was hiding behind one of the closed doors, Cecilia couldn't have gone anywhere else. He put his hand on the railing, then snatched it back, feeling an arc of hot electricity snap against his skin.

"Shit," he muttered, then stepped down onto the staircase.

Cecilia's voice echoed from the walls as he descended. He paused on the lower floor, crossing into the corridor as quietly as he could. The walls pressed tighter, lit by a series of glowing blue lamps, no more effective than moonlight.

One compartment was open. In the dim glow beyond it, a larger door appeared, its metal gears and locks glinting. Seth stopped before the open chamber, listening as Cecilia's words became distinct.

"Please, it's what we talked about," she implored. "Last night, you said there would be a perfect time. I want that time to be now. I want to sit with you and feel your energy around me, you know? Out there, where everyone can see us. I want everyone to know that I'm with you, the most amazing man on the playa. I want you to be touching me in front of everyone."

"If I touch you tonight, I will hurt you," the Necromancer replied. "You may enjoy it, you may not. Either way, I will not stop until I am done."

She replied with a breathless laugh, as if she thought it was a joke. "You mean like some kind of crazy scary sex? That'll have everyone looking at us, right?"

Lowering himself against the riveted doorframe, Seth edged closer and angled his view into the compartment. The two of them were there, standing close together, the golden walls around them covered with interconnected symbols.

Cecilia had her back turned toward the door, her skin bare under the straps of her bra. She looked frail compared to the man before her.

The Necromancer stood in silhouette, his white hair falling in waves down his chest. He held one arm across stomach, as if protecting a wound that had yet to heal. He watched her as she moved closer, his pale eyes glowing.

"I just want everyone to know," she said, pressing wantonly against him. "I want everyone to see us."

"You want Seth to see us," he corrected.

"Yeah, maybe. Why not?" She shook her head and almost lost her balance in the process, too drugged to stay on her feet easily. "Why shouldn't he see what he's given up? You're ten times the man he is and you're totally into me. He should see that. He should be made to see it."

"And what would you do, if he were watching now?"

"Now?" she swayed, stumbling a few steps away from him. She sat down and reached for her purse, drawing out a cigarette and a lighter. Then she smiled, managing to slip the end of the cigarette between her lips with drunken effort.

The lighter scratched to life in her hand, its tiny spark wavering as she put it to the paper. Firelight danced in the dark pools of her eyes, highlighting the thick sweep her lashes and her delicate brows. She winced, drawing a long breath, then nibbled at the chewed edges of her nails.

Seth narrowed his gaze, gauging the possibility that she might walk out on her own.
C'mon Cecilia, see him for what he is and come a little closer to the door. If I have to come in there, it's going to get messy for all of us.

She laughed again, exhaling an acrid stream from between her teeth. "If he were watching? I'd say let's go. Show him what we're all about."

"Then imagine he is watching, Cecilia."

She considered him a moment, then acquiesced with a shrug, rising to her feet. She unhooked her bra with practiced ease, letting it slip from her shoulders to the floor.

She approached him and stood with her high heels spread apart, cigarette in hand and smoke curling from her fingers. Lifting her face to his, she kissed him deeply, letting him taste the acid nicotine on her breath, then stepped back toward the altar, leading him by the hand.

Cecilia, Jesus!
Seth rose to his feet, preparing to go into the chamber after her. She didn't give him time, laying back on the altar and wrapping her long legs around the man above her. The Necromancer leaned over her, kissing her harshly, shoving her back against the metal surface until she cried out in discomfort.

The cigarette dropped to the floor grate.

Cecilia squirmed and pushed at his shoulders in protest but he wrenched her hands away and pinned them beneath her. Lowering his head, he thrust against her, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of her shoulder.

She screamed in pain.

Seth was through the door before he realized it. The Necromancer rose and Seth grabbed onto him, slamming him against the wall. The Necromancer let out a hiss of laughter through blood stained teeth.

"I'm going to kill you," Seth growled.

"Only one of us can die."

"Seth!" Cecilia cried. "Don't fight him!"

Don't fight him?

The Necromancer kicked Seth in the stomach and tossed him back, his strength now effortless and inhuman. Seth felt himself careen through the air. He crashed on the metal floor grate and slid on his shoulder, feeling a sharp crack in his ribs. He sucked a strained breath through his teeth.

Cloaked figures appeared in the doorway, grabbing onto him, some hitting, some kicking. He swore, lurching up onto his feet and dragging one of his attackers to the ground. The man screamed underneath him.

A punch landed to Seth's broken ribs and he doubled over. Another hit snapped his head to the side and he fell back, unable to count the blows that followed.

"No!" Cecilia yelled, her voice raw.

"Enough!" the Necromancer shouted. "It is too soon to spill his blood."

His attackers released him. Seth collapsed on the floor grate, a hot rush of pain flooding his ears. His vision was blurred. He clenched his teeth, focusing on the slender outline of Cecilia seated on the surface of the altar, her breasts loose and blood staining the skin of her shoulder.

The Necromancer loomed above him. "All these centuries of running from your destiny, yet all the paths you have taken have merely led you back to it."

Seth clenched his teeth.

"Don't worry about little Cecilia," the Necromancer added. "She may cry a little at first, but in a few hours, I'll have her singing just like the others. By the end, she'll see only me, obey every word I say, and believe with all her heart that serving Rathvam is the truest purpose under Heaven. It's what she came for, isn't it? To find her destiny? It is a glorious destiny that awaits her now, I assure you."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Seth swore, grabbing for him.

He was kicked again from behind, strong hands drawing him back and latching a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

The Necromancer turned away, and for the briefest of moments, Seth saw Julie standing in the background, her delicate hand poised over her mouth in anguish, her bright eyes blurred with tears.

He was lifted, half-carried and half-dragged into the corridor. An open chute appeared in the wall ahead and he was forced down onto his knees and pushed over the side. He slid a few feet then dropped into darkness.

A
t times, he thought Miranda was lying next to him, the whisper of her voice warm in the darkness. He thought he felt her hair against his shoulder, as if she were sleeping safely in his arms. Then inevitably, he would come awake reaching for her, only to confront the same darkness, the same pain.

He wasn't sure if he was sleeping or passing out at that point. There was no way to measure the length of time that stretched between waking periods, no way to know how badly he he'd been hurt. He only knew that the place he was in remained pitch black, and that his body grew colder, his muscles more difficult to move as time wore on.

Eventually, it seemed like the darkness itself spoke to him. The whispering that had seemed so faint before somehow became distinct in his mind. Different languages, different people, and yet he understood them as if they were a singing in a surreal choir, as if they formed a soft music of consciousness that he could tap into when he focused on it.

They told him about the Gate, things he didn't understand at first, then came to, in a sense. They told him about the metal, about its purpose and its shape, about their names and the sequence that controlled everything. They told him that he would have help soon.