Worlds Without End Read online

  In a few moments I had a tray all set to take upstairs. Sheer decadence to dispel the night fears. Tea and scones while taking a hot bath. Maybe later I’d read—from a real book with pages.

  I’d just settled into the tub when the telecom beeped. Happens every time. As the machine picked up, I heard Caimbeul's voice.

  “Aina, I know you’re there.” he said.

  I gave a universal gesture for contempt and went back to drinking my tea. I hadn’t heard word one from him in eight months. Frag him if he thought I was going to get out of a nice warm bath.

  “Look.” he said. “I’m en route to the UK. I should be landing in about an hour. Things have been happening. Things you need to know about. I have it all under control now, but we need to talk. I’ll be up to Arran in about four hours.”

  I closed my eyes. The uneasiness that I’d almost dispelled was back. For Caimbeul to come here out of the blue meant something was up. Something big. The dreams came back to me. I shivered. The water had gone cold and I suddenly didn’t like lying there naked and vulnerable.

  Quickly, I finished washing my hair and got out of the tub. As I dressed, I tried not to dwell on Caimbeul’s unexpected visit. Whatever the reason for it, I would know soon enough.

  And I doubted the news would be good.

  It is dark.

  A blackness so thick and heavy it feels like a weight against her eyes. It is suffocating, this darkness. It feels as though she is being swallowed up by it. Being turned into it ...

  4

  Caimbeul was late.

  Though I wasn’t surprised, I was annoyed. It wasn’t as though I were looking forward to seeing him, but if you drop in on someone with “important” news, you’d bloody well better be on time.

  I’d made tea with all the things Caimbeul liked. Scones, of course, with lemon curd. Those ridiculous little sandwiches with the crusts cut off, slices of cake, tarts. He had a sweet tooth. But now the sandwiches had gone hard and the cake was stale.

  I’d switched from tea to sherry, then to scotch. And still no Caimbeul.

  Finally, six hours after he’d said he’d arrive, I heard the crunch of tires across my gravel.

  I waited until I saw him emerge alone from the car before opening the door. Even though I had security sensors, you can’t be too cautious.

  “Prompt as usual, I see.” I said.

  “Ah, Aina, still charming as ever.” he replied. “No ‘How are you? Why are you late?’ You wound me.”

  I snorted.

  “Please, spare me the usual dancing.” I said. “It’s cold out here. Come inside.”

  I turned and went into the house. Behind me I could hear him getting his bag and shutting the doors to the car.

  “Lock the door and switch the system back on.” I called over my shoulder.

  He muttered something under his breath, but oddly enough he did as I asked. I went into the great room where I’d started a fire earlier that evening. Sometime between the sherry and the scotch.

  “Did you leave that woman at home?” I asked. “Yes.” he said as he shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the couch. He flopped down into one of the wing chairs in front of the fire. I handed him a snifter of brandy and poured myself another scotch.

  “I’m surprised. I’d’ve thought you’d bring her along to iron your shirts. Or something.”

  “Or something?” he asked. Coy, that one. “Whatever it is you do with girls young enough to be your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great—”

  He held up his hands. “I get the picture.”

  “Oh, please, I don’t want to hear about your peculiarities in that area.”

  “Do you care?” he asked. “What goes on between us is none of your business.”

  I turned away from him, stung by his remarks. Of course his life wasn’t my concern. It hadn’t been for centuries. But old habits die hard. '

  The silence stretched out between us. Once I enjoyed them. But now it felt awkward and tense. I longed for things to be as they once had, but it was far too late for that. As usual.

  “I had a terrible time getting through UK customs.” he said at last.

  “Were you carrying anything?” I asked as I turned and walked toward him. He gestured for me to sit across from him as though this were his house and not mine.

  “No.”

  “Made any enemies in the UK lately?”

  He smiled then. I was glad he wasn’t wearing his makeup. That awful mask he’d adopted out of some perverse sense of humor. Wicked Caimbeul.

  We chatted then about meaningless things. Things to distract us from the free-floating tensions of a failed romance and too many years of history.

  The fire had begun to die down and we were both a little muzzy.

  “So.” I said. But it came out more like “show.”

  “Why all the mystery about your visit?”

  Part of me, foolishly, hoped that his surprise had to do with the sudden realization that he’d been momentarily insane all those years ago when he’d left me.

  “I beat them.” he said, his voice dropping into a slightly drunken, conspiratorial tone. “You’ve been saying that NAN would bring them back with all that blood magic. And you were right, Aina.”

  I felt a cold finger touch my heart. Suddenly the alcohol warmth fled and I was wide-awake sober.

  “What are you saying?” I tried to keep my voice from shaking, but I failed. He didn’t notice, though.

  “They tried to get back, but I stopped them.” he said. “Ah, well, I did have some help. A group of shadowrunners I enlisted. We went and played our little games on the metaplanes. God, it was fantastic. I haven’t felt so alive since—I don’t know when. Can you imagine it? Just my wits against them.

  “Oh, there was some business with them recently in Maui, but that was easy enough to handle.”

  He gave a pleased laugh. Full and rich. I hadn’t heard that tone in his voice in so long I’d almost forgotten he could sound that way. Had it been anything else to bring this joy about I would have been delighted, but all I wanted to do was shake him. Hard. Laughing and enjoying this . . . this catastrophe.

  It was just like him to think he’d finished them off. What hubris. What ego.

  “. . . And then I told them the story about Thayla.” he was saying. “And I sent them on a quest to find her voice.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Of course it did.” he said, indignantly. “What do you take me for? A dilettante? I know we’ve had our disagreements, but even you can see what a feat this is.”

  “What I see is your ego is out of bounds again. In your endless fascination with being involved in the machinations behind things, you’ve missed the point. As usual.”

  “You’re jealous.” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Of what?” I was baffled at this sudden turn in the conversation.

  “Of me. Of my power. You couldn’t stand it when I surpassed your abilities.”

  “Don’t be asinine.”

  “Oh, do you deny it?” he asked. He had a competitive, smirky expression on his face that I wanted to slap off.

  “I won’t even dignify that with an answer. The things which you pursue, Caimbeul, are vainglorious and, ultimately, irrelevant.”

  “That’s something else you do.” he said. “You always call me Caimbeul. I haven’t been called by that name in three hundred years.”

  “Very well, Harlequin.” I said. “But this is all beside the point. The point is you think the Horrors have returned and that you have beaten them single-handedly, don’t you? Or at least once. I have no idea what actually happened in Maui because you always leave things out when it’s not all about you.”

  He gave me an annoyed look.

  “Very well, Aina.” he said sullenly. “There was a group of kahunas using blood magic on Haleakala. They managed to open a portal�
��some of the Enemy even managed to get through. But they were stopped in time. They were sent back into the void.

  “See, nothing to worry about.”

  “Let’s see. First, you encounter them on the metaplanes. You manage to ‘defeat’ them there. Next, some of them manage to breach this plane. And you think they’ve been dealt with?

  “Well, I’ve been having dreams lately and I think you’re wrong. I think you failed.”

  He laughed.

  “Aina has a dream and we’re all supposed to tremble in our boots. Is that it?”

  “I had forgotten this charming side to your personality, Caimbeul. I’ve been right before.”

  “And you’ve been wrong.”

  “Not often.”

  He didn’t have an answer for that.

  “I thought you would be thrilled at this news.” he said at last. “You’re the only one who still understands what it was like. Back then. During the Scourge.”

  I shrugged. “There’s always Alachia.” I said. “And Ehran. Oh, but I forgot about your tiff with him. Surely they remember.”

  “Alachia sees it differently than we do. She always has. And Ehran isn’t worth a pimple on a troll’s butt. As for the others—”

  “Don’t hold back, Caimbeul, how do you really feel?”

  After giving me a nasty look, he went and refilled his glass.

  “Bring me some water.” I said.

  In a moment, he placed a tumbler in my hand and settled himself opposite me again. Another long silence played out between us. The water was cool and washed the strong taste of the whiskey out of my mouth.

  “Tell me what happened.” I said at last. “The first time.”

  He didn’t answer me for a moment. Then he spoke.

  “They were constructing a bridge, of sorts, using the energy spike from the Ghost Dance as a locator. They are as foul as I remembered, Aina. No, perhaps worse, for it has been so long since I’d seen them that they’d begun to blur in my memory.

  “I had to test the runners to be sure they had what it took to stand against the Enemy. For the most part they succeeded. One fell during the trials, but they accomplished what I set them to do. They retrieved the Voice, but didn’t make it back to the bridge before a man named Darke captured me. The bastard was working with the Enemy and had been following me across the metaplanes the whole time. And I’d thought I was tracking him.

  “He was performing blood magic to corrupt the site. How many children were sacrificed I’ll never know. But Thayla sang and the enemy fell back, and now we’re safe.”

  I almost choked on my water.

  “Wait a minute.” I said. “That all ties up a little too neatly. Thayla may be able to keep them at bay, but who will protect her from people like Darke?”

  “Oh, some of the runners stayed with her.” he said casually.

  “But you didn’t volunteer for that duty.” I said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” he said. “I’m far too valuable to be tied to one spot like that. Besides, as long as she’s there, they can’t get through.”

  “Not there, at any rate.” I said. “And you’re sure the creatures were driven back in Maui?”

  “Of course.” he said.

  And how I wanted to believe him.

  I stared into the fire. Long ago, according to our legends, Thayla’s voice had driven the Horrors off. She had sacrificed herself for her people, like any great monarch would. Perhaps Caimbeul was right. Maybe he had accomplished it. Maybe he had driven them back. For now.

  I relaxed a little. Maybe now there would be time to plan. To prepare. To warn those who needed to know.

  The telecom beeped, startling me out of my thoughts.

  “Who could be calling at this hour?” I wondered aloud.

  “It might be for me.” he said. “I left this number.”

  Oh, splendid, I thought. Just what I need, Caimbeul’s little friends with my restricted number.

  “Hello.” I said into the old-fashioned videoless receiver I’d had installed in this room.

  There was a long pause, then a loud burst of static. I jerked back, dropping the receiver onto the floor.

  “Aina.” I heard. The sound filled the room. An impossibility. And, oh sweet mother, I knew that voice.

  “Aina.” it said. “I have come back. I have come for you.”

  Then the line went dead.

  “What was that?” Caimbeul demanded.

  The room was cold. Colder than the dead of winter. Colder than the grave. For I knew from long experience that there were things worse than death.

  “That,” I said, my voice shaking, “was the past come back to haunt us, Harlequin. You didn’t stop them from coming through on Maui, my dear. One of them is here. Now. And he’s coming for me.”

  She is standing on a cliff overlooking the sea. The gulls dive for fish, crying with their broken voices. Below on the beach, a boy and girl play. They chase each other, leaving footprints in the sand that are washed away by the incoming tide.

  The children’s high-pitched voices float up to her, but she can’t make out what they’re saying. Then, as she watches, the sea turns red and bleeds onto the beach.

  5

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Caimbeul said.

  “Are you deaf?” I asked. “You were here. You heard it.”

  “A prank, perhaps.” he said.

  “That was no prank and you know it.” I said. “I know that voice.”

  I turned away, running my hands over my arms to warm them. It had been so long. A time out of mind. Even so, I would never forget that sound. The sound of Ysrthgrathe’s voice.

  Like chalk on a blackboard. Like the whisper of a child. Like breaking glass. Like the dear departed. Whatever would be most effective.

  A fine, cold sweat broke out on my back. No, I thought, I’ll not give way to that so fast. I clamped down on the panic. He’d be expecting that. No, I’d have to be careful and deliberate.

  “It’s only one.” Caimbeul said. “We can deal with one.”

  “It’s not just one.” I said angrily. “Don’t you remember anything I told you then about him? I seem to recall that we did spend some time talking all those years ago. Or is your memory as convenient as it ever was?”

  “I thought we agreed not to discuss that time.” he said. “But you keep bringing it up.”

  “I’m not discussing that time. I’m asking you if you remember what I told you then about Ysrthgrathe.”

  “That’s a roundabout way of doing it.”

  “Will you shut up and listen? Frag it, you are so oblivious to everything but yourself. Didn’t you hear a word I said then? Oh, I give up.”

  I spun about and strode from the room. I had to get to my grimoire. There were preparations to be made.

  * * *

  When the last of my defenses was in place, I began to relax a little. It concerned me that I might be making even more of a target of myself. Strong magic stuck out like a sore thumb these days. But it didn’t really matter, he’d already found me.

  Caimbeul knocked on the door to my study.

  “Go away.” I said.

  “Don’t be difficult, Aina.” he said. “Let me in.”

  “No, no, dear Harlequin.” I replied. “I don’t wish to trouble you.”

  I heard him sigh. Loudly and dramatically so I would hear.

  “Let me in.” he said.

  I walked over to the door and opened it.

  “Oh, it’s the great Harlequin come to pay a visit to the poor unenlightened masses. Oh, please show us your bountiful insight. We are honored by your presence. May we kiss your hem?”

  “I was a bit . . . difficult.” he began.

  “No, you were an ass.” I said.

  “Very well, an ass. You always did get sarcastic when you were upset.”

  “How insightful of you.” I said. “But you’ve got it a little wrong. I’m not upset. I’m scared. And if you had a bit of sense, you’d be frighte
ned too.” He began to circle my study slowly, gently touching the books, totems, scrolls, and other bits of arcana I’d carefully catalogued. Some was only theory, some was practical. I knew he had an impressive accumulation of his own, but I also knew that I had been at this longer.

  “What’s this?” he asked, pulling a thick tome from a shelf.

  “That,” I said as I walked over and plucked it from his hand and stuck it back on its shelf, “is none of your concern. I’m certain you have five or six just like it at home.”

  An annoyed and interested expression crossed his face.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so worried.” he said. “You’ve dealt with him in the past. As I recall, Vistrosh told me the most amazing story about how you vanquished him.”

  Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I sighed.

  “Did he tell what really happened?” I asked. “Or was it turned into some of kind of ridiculous tale? Let me see if I can recount his version: ‘And then Aina threw her arms wide to the skies and caused a blast of heavenly fire to consume the monster. The creature gave one last wail of angry despair and vanished into the void.’ ”

  Caimbeul dropped into my heavy leather wing-back chair and put his feet up on my desk.

  “Yes.” he said. “It was something like that.”

  “Well, you know as well as I that that’s not exactly how these things happen. Oh, certainly I managed to overcome Ysrthgrathe, but it wasn’t the simple matter Vistrosh would have had you believe. It almost killed me and I sacrificed more than you can possibly imagine.”

  “Like your grimoire?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I replied. “I unmade myself. You remember what I’d done. All those scars. The years and years of blood magic. Everything. I gave it all up to send him back. To imprison him. And now he’s returned.

  “Then I had so much power. Look at me now. What are you doing?”

  He had picked up my grimoire and was leafing through it, making interested noises every few pages. I grabbed it from his hands, shocked at such a breach of etiquette.

  “And I don’t expect you to be any help.” I said. “You’re too damn selfish.”

  “The Enemy was stopped or we’d be dealing with more than one of them now. You’re letting something that happened millennia ago affect you now.”