Ten Thousand Skies Above You
Page 68
Even before the figure far behind him steps into the light, I know it’s Paul.
He wears a gray so pale it almost seems white. Unlike most of the men in this dimension, Paul keeps his hair short—even shorter than at home. His long coat hangs past his knees; his boots are the first shoes I’ve seen in this dimension that look like they’ve touched the ground.
Paul gives Theo a look. “Is the gun really necessary?”
“How can you even ask that?” But when Paul gestures, Theo hmmphs and puts the weapon away.
“Thank you,” I say.
Paul acknowledges this with only a nod. “We need to talk. Obviously you understand that, or you would never have come Below.”
“Yeah, we do.” I glance upward, imagining I’d be able to glimpse some pale sliver of the sky—but nothing. Down here the world is black on black. “Can my parents trace me through the Firebird? Could Conley?”
“It would take awhile for them to manage it, this far down,” Paul says, with approval for my caution. “Come on. We’ll talk.”
Theo looks at the two of us, almost comically angry, but he makes no move to stop us, or oppose Paul. The other members of their gang—four women, three men—don’t seem much happier than Theo, but none of them protest.
They lead me down the final set of steps. When I first set foot on the ground, it feels momentous. Forbidden. Maybe it is. But Paul’s gang is used to it, quickly taking me along the crumbling, uneven path to the base of one of the huge monolithic skyscrapers. Apparently whatever corporation is housed there doesn’t use their lower floors—and hasn’t for years. I see squatters’ laundry hanging on lines, smoke coming from windows, perhaps the product of makeshift stoves.
We walk into the low-ceilinged, dark rooms, which are lit only by a handful of small lanterns. The air smells familiar and almost comforting: dirt, leather, old books. Theo leans against the wall, folding his arms across his chest in exaggerated satisfaction, “Now what?”
“Now,” says Paul, “we talk.”
He steps closer to me, lantern light slowly illuminating his features. This is the first time I’ve been able to really look at Paul’s face, and I draw in a deep breath. A pale, jagged scar runs along one side of his jawline, but otherwise, he reminds me so much of every other Paul I’ve known.
And yet this moment I don’t see the Paul of the Mafiaverse, who shot Theo’s knees. I don’t see Lieutenant Markov. I don’t see the besotted soldier I betrayed in a San Francisco under siege; I don’t even see my own Paul.
I see one man—one unique person, a stranger to me. This is the person I need to understand.
Because we have an opportunity, one none of us should waste.
“You know I’m not the Marguerite from this world,” I say. They couldn’t have found me without Theo’s Firebird, otherwise; they wouldn’t have known what to look for.
Paul nods. “You are, nonetheless, Marguerite Caine, the daughter of Doctors Henry Caine and Sophia Kovalenka, and a traveler through the dimensions.”
“Just like you’re Paul Markov, my parents’ protégé and Triad’s enemy.” I nod toward Theo. “When do I get my version of him back?”
Slowly, Paul smiles—a genuine smile. “Not long now. You like your version better?”
“He never had a gang, or let anyone hold a gun on me.”
This world’s Theo has begun to scowl. “What are you doing with all the chitchat? We need answers from her, little brother.”
Again, they’re that close. I might not like this armed-and-dangerous Theo, but at least there’s something within him I would recognize.
Paul says, “Be patient, Theo.”
“What answers do you want?” I offer. “If you guys are anti-Triad, and I’m guessing you are, then we’re on the same side.”
Theo, Paul, and the others all exchange glances. It’s Paul who says, “They’re your parents. Conley was your sister’s fiancé.”
“My parents are grieving, and misguided. Wyatt Conley can’t be trusted, no matter what his motives are. And Triad—they’re trying to yoke together three dimensions so they can dominate all the rest. That’s not going to happen. Not if we help each other.”
Theo shifts on his feet, restless. “She’s just saying what you want to hear.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not telling the truth.” Paul gestures toward a battered metal chair.
I don’t sit until he does, too. His chair is farther away than I’d like for a conversation—it makes this too much like an interrogation. But I can work with it. This room obviously has no designated purpose; the furnishings in here run from office desks to these metal folding chairs to an honest-to-God wooden four-poster bed in the far corner. These guys are winging it too, which gives me more confidence when I ask, “What do you want to know?”
“Your story, as you’d tell it.”
So I hit the basics: My parents being opposed to Conley, in this world and the other tied to Triad. The kidnappings. The hijacking of Theo’s body, and the subsequent Nightthief poisoning. Paul’s deliberate splintering. Conley’s demands that I work for him, and his ultimate plan. Deciding to finish with a flourish, I say, “In my universe, you and I are in love.”
“In love.” Paul shakes his head. I can’t tell whether he doesn’t believe me, or he simply can’t picture it.
“Madly. Deeply. But somehow, this is the second time in a few days that guys working for you have held me at gunpoint,” I add. “Which I’m sick of.”
“You came looking for your Theo,” Paul says. “You’ll have to excuse ours for being so cautious.”
Apparently Theo doesn’t like being spoken about in the third person any more than I do. “We still don’t understand what she wants.”
Paul nods as he gives me an appraising look. “If you’re so in love with this other version of me, why haven’t you run to rescue him yet? Obviously your Theo doesn’t need saving. We wouldn’t keep him here even if we wanted to.”
“Which we don’t,” Theo adds. He gestures at the Firebird around his neck with disgust. “Knowing that guy’s all zoned out inside me? Creepy as hell.”
“I didn’t come here to save Theo. Just to talk with him, and—” How do I put this to make them comprehend? “This is the Home Office. The universe where Triad started. That means the whole conspiracy started here. My parents and Conley have told me what they want—and I believe they told me the truth—but not the whole truth. There’s more to this, isn’t there? And this dimension is the only place I’ll ever get the answers. You guys are the best source I’ll ever have.”
To my satisfaction, that catches Theo short. But then he switches tactics. “We could use more Firebirds, and she’s wearing an extra.”
I put one hand over my chest; the Firebirds press against my palm. “The second one isn’t extra. It’s for putting my Paul back together, and bringing him home.”
“On behalf of my other self, I appreciate your commitment.” Paul leans forward, studying my face by lamplight.
He wears a gray so pale it almost seems white. Unlike most of the men in this dimension, Paul keeps his hair short—even shorter than at home. His long coat hangs past his knees; his boots are the first shoes I’ve seen in this dimension that look like they’ve touched the ground.
Paul gives Theo a look. “Is the gun really necessary?”
“How can you even ask that?” But when Paul gestures, Theo hmmphs and puts the weapon away.
“Thank you,” I say.
Paul acknowledges this with only a nod. “We need to talk. Obviously you understand that, or you would never have come Below.”
“Yeah, we do.” I glance upward, imagining I’d be able to glimpse some pale sliver of the sky—but nothing. Down here the world is black on black. “Can my parents trace me through the Firebird? Could Conley?”
“It would take awhile for them to manage it, this far down,” Paul says, with approval for my caution. “Come on. We’ll talk.”
Theo looks at the two of us, almost comically angry, but he makes no move to stop us, or oppose Paul. The other members of their gang—four women, three men—don’t seem much happier than Theo, but none of them protest.
They lead me down the final set of steps. When I first set foot on the ground, it feels momentous. Forbidden. Maybe it is. But Paul’s gang is used to it, quickly taking me along the crumbling, uneven path to the base of one of the huge monolithic skyscrapers. Apparently whatever corporation is housed there doesn’t use their lower floors—and hasn’t for years. I see squatters’ laundry hanging on lines, smoke coming from windows, perhaps the product of makeshift stoves.
We walk into the low-ceilinged, dark rooms, which are lit only by a handful of small lanterns. The air smells familiar and almost comforting: dirt, leather, old books. Theo leans against the wall, folding his arms across his chest in exaggerated satisfaction, “Now what?”
“Now,” says Paul, “we talk.”
He steps closer to me, lantern light slowly illuminating his features. This is the first time I’ve been able to really look at Paul’s face, and I draw in a deep breath. A pale, jagged scar runs along one side of his jawline, but otherwise, he reminds me so much of every other Paul I’ve known.
And yet this moment I don’t see the Paul of the Mafiaverse, who shot Theo’s knees. I don’t see Lieutenant Markov. I don’t see the besotted soldier I betrayed in a San Francisco under siege; I don’t even see my own Paul.
I see one man—one unique person, a stranger to me. This is the person I need to understand.
Because we have an opportunity, one none of us should waste.
“You know I’m not the Marguerite from this world,” I say. They couldn’t have found me without Theo’s Firebird, otherwise; they wouldn’t have known what to look for.
Paul nods. “You are, nonetheless, Marguerite Caine, the daughter of Doctors Henry Caine and Sophia Kovalenka, and a traveler through the dimensions.”
“Just like you’re Paul Markov, my parents’ protégé and Triad’s enemy.” I nod toward Theo. “When do I get my version of him back?”
Slowly, Paul smiles—a genuine smile. “Not long now. You like your version better?”
“He never had a gang, or let anyone hold a gun on me.”
This world’s Theo has begun to scowl. “What are you doing with all the chitchat? We need answers from her, little brother.”
Again, they’re that close. I might not like this armed-and-dangerous Theo, but at least there’s something within him I would recognize.
Paul says, “Be patient, Theo.”
“What answers do you want?” I offer. “If you guys are anti-Triad, and I’m guessing you are, then we’re on the same side.”
Theo, Paul, and the others all exchange glances. It’s Paul who says, “They’re your parents. Conley was your sister’s fiancé.”
“My parents are grieving, and misguided. Wyatt Conley can’t be trusted, no matter what his motives are. And Triad—they’re trying to yoke together three dimensions so they can dominate all the rest. That’s not going to happen. Not if we help each other.”
Theo shifts on his feet, restless. “She’s just saying what you want to hear.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not telling the truth.” Paul gestures toward a battered metal chair.
I don’t sit until he does, too. His chair is farther away than I’d like for a conversation—it makes this too much like an interrogation. But I can work with it. This room obviously has no designated purpose; the furnishings in here run from office desks to these metal folding chairs to an honest-to-God wooden four-poster bed in the far corner. These guys are winging it too, which gives me more confidence when I ask, “What do you want to know?”
“Your story, as you’d tell it.”
So I hit the basics: My parents being opposed to Conley, in this world and the other tied to Triad. The kidnappings. The hijacking of Theo’s body, and the subsequent Nightthief poisoning. Paul’s deliberate splintering. Conley’s demands that I work for him, and his ultimate plan. Deciding to finish with a flourish, I say, “In my universe, you and I are in love.”
“In love.” Paul shakes his head. I can’t tell whether he doesn’t believe me, or he simply can’t picture it.
“Madly. Deeply. But somehow, this is the second time in a few days that guys working for you have held me at gunpoint,” I add. “Which I’m sick of.”
“You came looking for your Theo,” Paul says. “You’ll have to excuse ours for being so cautious.”
Apparently Theo doesn’t like being spoken about in the third person any more than I do. “We still don’t understand what she wants.”
Paul nods as he gives me an appraising look. “If you’re so in love with this other version of me, why haven’t you run to rescue him yet? Obviously your Theo doesn’t need saving. We wouldn’t keep him here even if we wanted to.”
“Which we don’t,” Theo adds. He gestures at the Firebird around his neck with disgust. “Knowing that guy’s all zoned out inside me? Creepy as hell.”
“I didn’t come here to save Theo. Just to talk with him, and—” How do I put this to make them comprehend? “This is the Home Office. The universe where Triad started. That means the whole conspiracy started here. My parents and Conley have told me what they want—and I believe they told me the truth—but not the whole truth. There’s more to this, isn’t there? And this dimension is the only place I’ll ever get the answers. You guys are the best source I’ll ever have.”
To my satisfaction, that catches Theo short. But then he switches tactics. “We could use more Firebirds, and she’s wearing an extra.”
I put one hand over my chest; the Firebirds press against my palm. “The second one isn’t extra. It’s for putting my Paul back together, and bringing him home.”
“On behalf of my other self, I appreciate your commitment.” Paul leans forward, studying my face by lamplight.
