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— into howling wind, buffeting increasing as I fell, a scream like the slipstream past a jet's windows filling the world. Falling, naked flesh stung by air turned hard by velocity. It was dark, the utter dark of blind closed eyes at the bottom of the sea at night.
In this space there is no up or down, despite the sensation of falling. We call it between because it is; between life and death, earth and Hell, physical and spiritual.
Between present and past.
The greatest danger is forgetting who and what I am, falling into chaos and dispersing, the psyche unable to contain itself without an outside border. But the bracelet of agony closed around my wrist, crimson light spilling between my fingers as the etheric copy of the jewel closed in Saul Dustcircle's fist almost snapped free of my grasp. A long huuuuuuuuuuungh! of mental effort burst out of me, the taste of copper filling my mouth to the brim, and I swallowed. With the jerk of arrested motion came the consciousness of who I was, what I was doing here, what information I sought.
Time means less than nothing in this space, and so does distance. I became an arrow, translated between one spot and the next without the benefit of moving, the reflex of a physical body turning my stomach inside-out. Gagging, choking, trying desperately to remember that I was not in a real body but between and therefore without a goddamn stomach to reject food, I slammed through the barriers and found myself in a howling ash-choked wasteland with pale copies of skyscrapers glittering through a fog that tore into agonized screaming faces at my approach. Flying, through walls and jets of bright psychic moments crystallized by emotion, until the location that pulled me came into view.
It was a mansion, its physical shape common enough for the super-rich and paranoid. Its etheric shape, though, was a howl of suffering and pleasure in that suffering, the psychic fume of death and corruption like the belch of an old cancerous dragon, tinted with dark flame having its origin in hell. Into this maw I flashed, the not-me holding a bloody jewel that twisted like a live snake in my grip, trying to break free of this place of horror and flee back to its real physical home.
The mansion swallowed me.
There they were. The hellbreed was a pale sword of diseased brightness, and the rogue Were a twisted mass of fur and flesh, crouched at her feet. The images overlapped with Cenci's face, hair whipping in pale strands as she fought to contain a massive force spilling through her, lips pulled back in a grimace of agony.
It is its own kind of agony to see between. There is no difference, once you are sideways in that not-space, between the face and the mind behind it, the vessel and the wine. People become smears of reaction, hellbreed spreading vortexes of contagion, hunters straight disciplined arrows of brilliance each with a screaming child on the inside. It is a vision of i
Cenci knelt, the Were bleeding at her feet. The floor was tessellated patterns of darkness, black and white linoleum squares stretching to infinity. Don't worry, she whispered to the hulk of shattered fur and animal growl. I'll take care of you.
The Were screamed with fury, but her slim strong arms came around him—and then, Navoshtay Niv Arkady came.
A tidal wave of etheric force slammed into me, a bat hitting a baseball with the cracking of a sweet swinging-for-the-fences bonebreaking home run. The slippery line between my fingers slid a few inches, my hand loosening, opening, my self flung through nonspace, skidding for the edges of reality.
If I went over that edge…
I heard, from very far away, Arkady's voice. I knew it was his because of the black weight of ice it carried, and the unmistakable stamp of black oily eyes and coppery skin, a hook nose and the smell of heatless acid fire. This is unacceptable. Each sibilant carried a dagger of ice, plunging for the beating heart of whatever living thing it could find. You are my vessel, and I will break you if I wish.
Comprehension blazed through me as I lunged away from the sound of that voice. A hellbreed that old can sometimes see between, and if he caught me spying inside his secrets even Perry might not be able to call him off—
The jaws of the mansion slammed shut as I streaked through, shoulder screaming in pain as the ruby pulled, and my fingers slipped again, hot blood torn loose from my hand in a painless gout as the gem squirted out of my slippery palm.
Falling. I had gone too far, the cord sliding between nerveless fingers, stu
Comprehension flashed through me too late, a map of cause and effect stretching back to one image—slim white arms, bleeding from a hellbreed's claws, clasping with more than human strength as a red-haired man struggled and screamed in agony, his flesh cracking and madness bleeding through.
I fell. And fell. Heart stopping, brain bleeding, breath turned to a death-rattle, I fell.
And was caught, deceleration slapping hard against every atom of me.
— come back—
I hung pi
The part of me that went between slammed back into this body, convulsing, choking, flung sideways like a rag doll, falling—
— until my head smashed into the wooden floor. I lay crumpled in front of the altar, hearing my own hoarse screams as my legs jittered and flopped.
The retching eased, every muscle in my body seizing up and relaxing in waves. I could finally breathe again. I lay against the altar, my eyes closed, vibrating with pain. The scar pulsed, a wave of sick delight spilling up my arm and curling down my back, as if a warm, manicured hand had just stroked along my spine, a linen cuff touching my skin gently.
Of as if a scaled tongue too wet and warm to be human had touched the vulnerable hollow behind my ear.
I flinched, without the energy to cower away. Got myself up on hands and knees, my left hand singing a thin note of pain before the cut, sucked bloodless, closed. I realized, through the ringing noise in my head, that Saul was calling my name, his voice hoarse as if he'd been shouting a while.
"Goddammit, answer me!" He sounded frantic, and the silver light pulsed as if he'd tried to step over the pentacle's borders. It held fast, singing a warning note of crystalline power.
"Hold… on…" I managed through a fresh set of retches and the howling in my head. It was a good thing I hadn't had breakfast.
He subsided, but the rumbling growl coming from him shook the walls. He was one unhappy Were.
Well, I'm not too happy myself. I struggled for a laugh and couldn't find one.
My arms and legs trembled, as if I'd just pulled through a fever. I managed to sit up, propping myself against the altar, and made the gesture that released the double-circle and the pentacle. Silver light folded away, its hum diminishing as it bled into the ground.
Saul's feet slid and slipped in the spreading pool of my blood as he launched himself, the silver glow turning bloody as he broke the weakening barriers and landed next to me, almost crashing into the altar. He fetched up hard and went to his knees, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me, my head hobbling back and forth. Sounds came out of him that I only vaguely recognized as words. I was too busy shaking, choking back more retches, and hearing the roaring noise of between fade too slowly out of my ears.