The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) (42 page)

“Eliza, please.”

“I’ve worked here for too long. My affliction has grown worse—even worse than when it took hold of my sister. I’ve begun hallucinating, hearing voices, seeing shadows.”

“It doesn’t have to take you over completely. Hormesis is treatable.”

“We don’t have time for treatment any longer. I’m going to finish the Ladder Project and I really hope, I pray, that you can do this with me. This is something I’m going to do. I told you to bring the weapon because I trust in your judgment more than I trust my own.”

She opened a door at the end of the staircase to a dark room that smelled horrible.

“If you think I should be stopped from going through with it, that weapon in your hand is the only way. If I’m alive, I’ll make sure the third world exists, with me in it. If it doesn’t, it’s because you ended my life. I will not live to see humanity die under Lys.”

Tara’s hand trembled as she squeezed the gun and she shook her head. “Please don’t make me do this, Eliza. I’m begging you. You’re my friend.”

Dr. Mizrahi ignored her and hit a switch. Lights began to illuminate the inside of the room. She held her breath, covered her mouth, nauseated by the sight.

“This is going to be the future.” The madwoman raised her hands, turned towards Tara. “Pull the trigger, if you think otherwise.”

Tara Blanchard raised the gun, which she couldn’t hold still, and Dr. Mizrahi closed her eyes, waiting for its thunder.

ф

There was not much left of Clairvert or anything in it. The cupula had shattered, and the roof that once protected them now lay in pieces, crushing all that was left of the city proper.

Only the Creuxen remained: Lazarus, pinned to the wall by Milos Ravana’s sword; Quantum Ares, flat on its back and armless by the entrance; finally, Milos Ravana itself, standing outside the city.

He narrowed his eyes to see; the light had become blinding.

As everything shattered all around him, light had begun to bleed from the ground in glowing wisps. It was warm light, as though heaven itself was coming for them from beneath. But no one, not even Garros himself, believed in its promises of geniality.

Covering his eyes, avoiding the stems of light, Garros flanked the dozens of citizens as they ran away from the chapel.

“Outside! Go out of the city!” the soldiers yelled, ushering the people out before it all fell apart.

Even more light exploded into the fractured dome as another piece fell, and he could see the night sky, the clouds gathering around the peak, and the stars.

Then came the roar.

The Heath creature’s cage—its master’s sanctum—had begun to shatter sooner than Garros had imagined it would. He could already see its bulk through broken segments in the northeastern wall of the city.

There were still people in the city, too many to quickly funnel through the small cave leading to the outside. If the creature wasn’t stopped, the last of them would meet their end.

He would meet his end.

I’m not going to die until I understand.

The wall protecting them from the Heath creature shook as the monster began to pound against it with all its strength, screaming with each blow as though they hurt.

“Get as far away as you can!” he yelled at the soldier, who appeared to be waiting for him. “I’ll try to stop it, you get them all as far away from here as possible! Go!”

When the terrified soldier nodded and turned back to join the others, Garros looked at Ares. He’d have to pilot it. Even without its arms, he could use its mass to fight; he’d be able to deal some damage, certainly more than he could do without it.

Hearing as more pieces of the wall cracked and shattered under the monster’s strength, Garros scrambled towards Ares. His hands were shaking, barely strong enough to grip at the pieces he used to crawl up his mechanical big brother.

I’m not going to die until I understand.

The creature’s roar was louder, angrier. He knew it would be free to attack any time. Garros ran down Ares’ chest and found the open Apse. He took one final breath of air, looked at the city, which had become almost completely covered by tendrils of light sprouting from the floor like vines, and jumped into the darkness.

I thought you’d be gone
, said Ares.
I thought we were gone
.

One last time. We’re doing this one final time. I know it hurts.

Garros . . . Garros . . .

The voice that called his name—it wasn’t Ares.

When he felt his spirit go into the giant Creux, Garros rolled using Ares’ legs. Twice he attempted the roll until the colossal Creux was flat on its stomach. He moved its helmet-like head up to see:

It was time. After one final blow against its prison walls, the monster rose to reveal its full size. It was far larger than he had seen it being just minutes earlier. It had grown in the span of minutes.

He couldn’t stand. He had never trained to stand without the use of Ares’ arms. It was impossible. Garros tried using the strength on the creature’s back—

The monster took its first step into the city.

—to lift its upper body. He slipped and fell.

Garros
. . .

The monster stepped into the city and stood at its full height. It was still growing, inching in on the ceiling.

He tried again. Once more he fell on its shoulder. It hurt.

The arachnid monster began to walk towards him.

. . . Garros
. . .

Finally he managed to plant Ares’ right foot on the floor. Then his left. Ares stood straight and took a defensive stance just in time for the monster to reach him.

. . .
Garros
.

Quantum Ares received the charging monster, and its sheer power sent it crashing against the rocks that had crushed Phoenix Atlas. Unsatisfied by the damage, the creature charged at Ares again. It destroyed the boulders.

Ares fell on its back outside and rolled violently on the wasteland. Garros hoped that all the citizens of Clairvert had been standing far away.

Looking up at the shifting clouds in the sky, unable to move, Garros felt electricity in his stomach. It wasn’t the warm energy that fueled Quantum Ares; this hurt, hurt so much he knew that there had been irreparable damage.

As the monster broke through the remaining boulders and took its first steps onto the outside world, Garros lifted Ares’ head to see. There was blue fire on Quantum’s stomach, not far from the Apse. The T-Core was damaged.

Garros.

Erin?

Milos Ravana.

It was Erin’s voice, pouring through the T-Core, interrupting Quantum Ares’ attempts to whisper into Garros’ mind.

Go to Milos Ravana.

Erin—Erin, baby, where are you? I can’t see you.

Go to Milos Ravana.

Erin, please.

Go to Milos Ravana. Go to Milos Ravana. Find me there.

Okay.

And then:
We shared the beginning, and now we share our end. Farewell
.

Those were the last words he heard in Quantum Ares’ voice.

Garros felt as though every piece of him was being removed from his body as the Heath creature began to slaughter Quantum Ares viciously.

When Ares’ T-Core finally extinguished, its eyes went dim and Garros was released. The Apse opened, and from the darkness within, he could see the creature’s many sharp spider-like legs crashing down on Ares, poking holes into its iron flesh. Two massive human-shaped arms had grown from the monster’s chest, and now tore off every piece of Ares’ armor.

It was too big and too strong, but its size was such that Garros could emerge without being seen.

Pieces of armor were still being torn off as he jumped out of the Apse and landed on the deceased Creux’s spongy black flesh. Twice he felt the wind of hands and legs crashing down near him, nearly obliterating him.

“
You’ll give me your everything
!” the creature roared, still using its many limbs to tear Ares apart. It was as though it was furious at Ares, angry that that measly Creux had dared challenge it.

Garros took a plunge and fell on the wasteland’s floor, which had grown wet with the Creux’s blood. He had no time to cry over anything; he had to follow Erin’s voice. She was in Milos Ravana. Somehow, she had found her way there.

No, it didn’t make sense, but they didn’t know anything about the Creux.

Davenport had left the Armor of God down on one knee outside of Clairvert, and as Garros ran towards it, he saw that the citizens of Clairvert had been intelligent enough to clear as far away from the city as possible, and were still running away. He could tell they were headed towards the ruins of Kerek.

“Come to me!”

Garros turned around just as he began to climb up Milos’ boot. The monster stood next to the wreckage that had once been Quantum Ares, and it had spotted him.

He could hear the booming sounds of spider legs and giant arms crashing down on the floor as the Heath creature began to move towards him. He couldn’t look back, only climb.

The Apse was open.

Garros looked back. The monster was coming to him.

Trusting Erin’s voice was his only drive now. If he went inside and Milos Ravana took him as it had taken so many before, he’d die following the voice of the only person he had ever loved.

He jumped in, and the hatch trapped him inside.

ф

Poole was having trouble breathing as Ezra cradled her in his arms.

“I need help!” he yelled and looked for Jena; she had run off. “Poole, hold on, help is coming. Just keep your eyes open—it’s . . . it’s not so bad.”

She had put her hand on her wound, which was still bleeding, so he put his hand on hers to apply extra pressure, to give her some comfort.

“Ezra—I’ll be okay, right?” she said, and coughed up blood. “Right? It’s just that—Zenith is too far away.”

“No, hold on. Maybe I can take you to Clairvert—maybe they can take care of you there,” he said, tightening his lips, doing everything in his power not to let her see him cry. “You can make it.”

“Yeah,” she said and laughed, flashing blood-red teeth. “I know.”

Ezra had carried Poole—
she was so light
—to the forest at the edge of the clearing. The Fleck that was rising from Farren’s grave had not seen them yet. It finished crawling out of the floor.

How could they not see this coming? How could they be so blind?

It was the most humanoid-looking Fleck he had ever seen—so much so that he barely appeared to be a Fleck, even if it had many of its characteristics: overgrown size, rock-hard skin, remnants of what it used to be before infection. This one, however, was just an enormous hairless human, almost as tall as a small Creux. It was disproportionately muscular, with overgrown pieces of bone sticking out of its rotted flesh. Its face was an eyeless human skull, giant teeth grown long and sharp, mostly buried between strips of muscle and cartilage that stretched from its shoulders.

“We brought that thing here,” Ezra whispered, and looked down at Vivian, who had begun to shiver. “This is on
us
.”

The Fleck turned around. It had heard him.

In one blink of Ezra’s eyes, it was standing just at the edge of the clearing, mere feet away from Ezra and Poole. Startled, he screamed.

The trees around him cracked and shivered as the Fleck pulled them up and threw them back, roots and all, as though it had just plucked flowers. The Fleck couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, but it knew they were there.

It surveyed the area with the fast swing of a giant hand that passed two feet over Ezra’s head.

Weakly, Poole covered Ezra’s mouth with one hand. He looked down at her and she shook her head, bringing her finger to her mouth.
It can hear us
, she mouthed.

The Fleck was distracted as many other noises reached the holes on the sides of its head. The sound of dozens of screams. The sound of a Creux rising to its feet. Of birds taking off. It appeared to want to scream, but its mouth was buried beneath layers of bone and muscle.

It raised its hand to survey the ground again but just as it was bringing it down, a beam of light pierced its stomach.

Iron Seraphim appeared from his right and tackled the Fleck. Both monster and Creux rolled on the clearing, destroying the healthy earth beneath them.

Ezra took the chance and picked Poole up. She screamed in pain.

He didn’t know from where it was that he summoned the strength, but Ezra began to run, Poole bleeding in his arms, back towards the encampment. If there was any hope of saving her life, it would be there.

“God dammit. Dammit!” he said, fighting to catch his breath.