Flux Page 14

  With a grim smile, Nellie stepped through to her home level and sealed the gate. She had five boxes of pastry, a dry place to sleep, and as far as she knew, no one currently on her tail. Things could be worse. Taking up a position by the window, she munched her way through a soggy cream doughnut, and waited for Deller to put on an appearance.

  FROM HER POSITION BY the window, Nellie watched Deller and his mother. The rain had let up an hour ago and the sun was out, riding a brilliant bank of clouds. Up and down the street puddles glittered and threw out light, and the air sang with a fresh clean scent, but the two figures standing in front of the Skulls’ headquarters were oblivious. Hunched in the entranceway, Deller stared at his feet while his mother gazed down the empty street, a magazine tucked under one arm and repeatedly calling Nellie’s name. Behind her the black skull leered in lopsided spray-painted fashion on the wall. Before entering the warehouse she’d given it a single disgusted glance, and had emerged with the magazine tucked under her arm. From the ramrod shape of her shoulders, Nellie had the feeling the woman had never before seen the warehouse or known of its existence. Deller would definitely be up for another little chat when they got home.

  Dense and merciless, the sun beat down. Heaviness dragged at Nellie’s brain and her tongue was a pulpy mass in her mouth. It had been hours since she’d had anything to drink and her body was whimpering for water. Pressing her cheek against the windowframe, she sucked her phlegmy tongue and watched.

  “Nellie, Nellie.” The calls came clearly through the broken window at the room’s far end, the sound slightly delayed so it didn’t quite match the movement of Deller’s mother’s mouth. Abruptly the woman left off calling and began arguing with her son, waving the magazine in his face. Ducking to avoid a swat, Deller turned slightly and Nellie let out a gasp. There on his back she could clearly see her knapsack, the tip of the statue’s blue-robed head poking through a gap at the top. Greedily her eyes followed his every fidget and shuffle as he gave his mother monosyllabic replies. Here before her eyes was the sign she’d been waiting for, proof of the Goddess’s great love for Her lost and lonely daughter. How it must have pained Ivana to stoop to using a heathen such as Deller to deliver Her divine message. And how obvious that She was asking Nellie to rescue the statue, the sooner the better. Softly Nellie began to bump her head against the window frame, keeping time with her thoughts. It’s mine, the Goddess gave it to me. You’ve got your own mother, it’s mine, it’s mine. The sun pressed its great weight through the windowpane, the air spread its heated wings and beat against her lungs. She had to get the statue back, she had to.

  With a final wave of the magazine, Deller’s mother turned and walked down the street. For a moment Deller stood watching her leave, then ducked into the Skulls’ headquarters. Rising to tiptoe Nellie peered out eagerly, whimpering as she tried to stare through the cardboard that covered the Skulls’ single window. Jitters claimed her arms and legs, and she forced herself to calm down, narrowing herself into the slits of her eyes. This could be her last chance to get the Goddess back. Soon the rest of the Skulls would converge on their headquarters, and who knew what would happen to the statue then? She had to get it back, she had to get it back now.

  Slipping through a broken window on the first floor, she crept around the back of the building and peered out into the street, but nothing moved. Quickly she darted through the dazzling slash of heat that ran the middle of the road, then snuck into the alcove that led to the Skulls’ headquarters. A listless fly buzzed her ear and she waved it away. No sound came from inside the warehouse—no pacing, fidgeting or creaking of chairs. What was Deller doing? Waiting, of course. For her.

  Head up, Nellie let out a scream and rocketed through the open doorway. The sudden darkness was blinding, but she’d prepared for it, holding her hands over her eyes and counting to thirty before she’d dashed. Two blinks and the room came into focus, the statue poised on the table and Deller tilted back in a three-legged chair beside it, his weasely eyes fixed on her.

  “Give it to me,” Nellie hissed.

  “Come and get it,” Deller replied.

  Fury exploded through her. As she lunged, Deller’s chair came crashing down and he sprang. For a second the statue teetered on the edge of the table, now in his grip, now hers. Breath tore at their lungs, they clawed and scratched as it slipped between their sweaty hands. Suddenly Deller wrenched the blue-robed figure from her grasp. Swinging it above his head, he brought it in a magnificent crash against the edge of the table. Instinctively Nellie raised an arm to her face as shards of ceramic flew everywhere and the air filled with a thick sweet-smelling powder. Coughing and choking, she staggered backward. By the wall it was better, the air clearer, and she could watch the dusty cloud above the table drift aimlessly about the room.

  Huddled against the opposite wall, Deller peered over his own arm. Wordless, the two watched each other through the swirling drifting cloud. Forget the missing finger, Nellie thought coldly, her rage clear and clean within her. When the dust settled, she was going to claw the eyes from his head, then hone in on his brain. For the Goddess was gone, of this there was no doubt. In the moment the statue had shattered against the tabletop Nellie had felt a divine presence lift, agonized and desecrated, from the splinters, and flutter through the crack in the cardboard that covered the window. And Ivana wasn’t coming back. She’d been betrayed twice, once through the loss of the remembering dress, and now through the destruction of the statue. Goddesses didn’t hang around, giving Their devotees endless chances at showing respect. This was Lulunar, month of the twins. Nellie had been given two chances, she’d blown them both, and the Blessed Mother had just given her her walking papers.

  “It was just a stupid statue,” Deller muttered, staring at Nellie over his arm. “Not like my brother.”

  She stared back, unblinking. She was going to kill him, no question. Given enough time, she would figure out how and when.

  “There was something in it.” Deller shifted uneasily under her gaze. “Did you notice?”

  She said nothing, continuing to stare. What did she care about what he thought had been inside the statue? The Goddess had been inside it. How—she was thinking about how and when.

  Most of the powder had settled, leaving a fine haze in the air. Pulling his T-shirt over his nose, Deller crossed to the table and ran his finger through the white film that covered it. With a muffled oath he yanked down his T-shirt, lifted his finger to his mouth, and tasted the powder. Incredulity crossed his face. Glancing at Nellie, he said, “It’s erva.”

  “What?” she snapped. All thoughts of his pending death vanished. Lowering her arm, she sniffed the air. It did smell like the drug. Automatically, out of habit, she shrugged. “You’re lying,” she scoffed.

  “You ever done it?” asked Deller.

  “Course I done it,” Nellie jeered, rubbing her runny nose on her sleeve. In the initial weeks following her mother’s disappearance, she’d accepted small doses of erva from several men. The multi-colored mind trips had entranced her until she’d seen other girls her age, working just to get their daily dose. Magazine stuff.

  She wasn’t a magazine girl.

  “Come over here and taste it,” Deller said impatiently. “Just a bit, so you don’t spin out.”

  Approaching the table, Nellie touched her finger to the powdery film and licked it. Carefully she hid her shock. Deller was right. The powder did have the sweet high-singing taste of erva. “So?” she shrugged again, keeping her face deliberately bored.

  Deller gaped. “So it came out of the statue you got from the Sanctuary of the Blessed Goddess. It looks like that priest has more than one career going. He baptizes babies and registers their births for the Interior by day, then reports to the Elfadden by night, and pushes erva on the side.”

  “No,” protested Nellie, her mind balking at the enormity of it. “He serves the Goddess. She’d strike him dead before She let him desecrate Her holy house.”

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nbsp; Deller let out a twisted howl. “She didn’t strike him dead when he was kicking and punching my double.”

  “That was in another level,” Nellie said defensively.

  Deller rolled his eyes. “How many crates of those statues did you see in that storage room?”

  “I dunno.” Taking a step back, Nellie crossed her arms. She didn’t want to think about things going wrong in the Goddess’s house of worship. She just didn’t want to.

  “Well, I saw lots,” Deller said hoarsely. “The room was stuffed with them. Y’know how much erva that makes?”

  “You don’t know they were all full of erva!” Nellie shouted angrily. “The door was unlocked. Anyone could’ve snuck into that room and put erva into one of those statues—the janitor, or some crazy case off the street.”

  “The room was locked,” Deller said flatly. “I unlocked it from the inside before opening it. Then I left it unlocked when we went out so we could get back in.”

  Wordless, Nellie watched the erva haze settle onto his clothes.

  “Okay,” Deller sighed. “We’ll go back and see. You and me, in this level. We’ll check the other statues in the crates and see if they’re loaded too.”

  A last desperate possibility exploded through Nellie’s mind. “It was you!” she blurted. “You took the statue and filled it with erva before you brought it here today, just so you could make me stop believing in the Goddess. Well it won’t work, pagan. Nothing will ever make me stop believing in Her.”

  Deller’s face disintegrated into absolute shock. “You are nuts!” he shouted. “Out of your lulu mind.” He made the doubling sign, spinning his fingers against both of his temples.

  Finally Nellie gave in to the knowing that rose through her like a deep-sea swimmer surfacing for air. Deller was right. The erva in the statue was connected directly to the middle-of-the-night meetings that were being held in the Sanctuary of the Blessed Goddess. She’d known all along that something ugly was going on there— that was why she’d started spying on the men in the first place. So why was she fighting the truth now?

  “Okay,” she said gruffly. “We’ll go back.” She had to, she knew that. The message from the Goddess was clear—She wanted Her devotee Nellie Joan Kinnan to return to Her divine sanctuary and clear Her holy name.

  Deller’s shoulders collapsed so suddenly that Nellie flinched. “Really?” he asked, his voice skyrocketing. “You will?”

  She could see his lower lip begin to tremble. Sharp tears pricked her own eyes and she glanced away. “And I’ll help you look for Fen,” she mumbled. “Until we find him, or know what ... happened to him.”

  Deller ducked his head and took a long shuddery breath. “Let’s go tell my mom,” he said.

  Slowly she followed him through the doorway.

  Chapter 12

  NELLIE WOKE IN THE BEDROOM at the back of the second story, her eyes fixed on the arrow of moonlight that lay suspended along the floor. This time there was no ooze of confusion, she knew immediately where she was and why she’d come awake. Slipping out of the bed’s warmth, she stepped onto the arrow of light and followed its trajectory across the floor. At the closed bedroom door she tuned into the molecular field and the gate to the next level came into view, a dark hairline seam woven through the dance of energy that surrounded it. Sending her mind into the gate, she drew it open. No flash of pain accompanied this gesture, and she stepped through the gate to find the next level as it had appeared the previous night—shadowy and quiet, with only her double’s breathing disturbing the stillness. Without pausing Nellie opened the next gate and passed through it, repeating the process until she’d progressed several more levels. Then she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall that led to the rest of the house.

  Deller’s bedroom was two doors down and to the right. She’d caught glimpses of it as she’d passed, enough to leave a hazy impression of model airplanes suspended from the ceiling, grubby sports equipment and scattered clothing. Since their return to the house earlier that evening, they hadn’t had a chance to talk privately. As they’d come up the front walk, his mother had descended upon them and the evening had been engulfed by her questions: How did Fen look? You said he had an electrode here, on the right side of his head? How many doctors were there? Where did the hallway lead? Did you look through a window to get an outside view?

  There had been some discussion about a meeting with the Jinnet the following night, and then Deller had muttered something about phones being tapped and left the house. Seated at the kitchen table, his mother had chain-smoked her way through question after question. Only after Nellie was consumed by four consecutive yawns did she relent, handing her another voluminous nightgown and sending her up the narrow staircase to take a bath. Nellie had skipped the bath. It had been only twenty-four hours since her last one, and she figured civilization wouldn’t come crashing down if she waited a week or so for the next.

  The door to Deller’s bedroom—Deller’s double’s bedroom, Nellie reminded herself—stood ajar. No arrow of moonlight slanted through the windows on this side of the house, but the curtains stood completely open, and the room was a well-defined series of grays. Suspended and motionless, the planes took on eerie silver outlines. Beneath them lay Deller’s double, splayed on his back in a T-shirt and cotton pyjama pants, his bandaged hand cradled on his chest. Gone was the usual weasely look. A lock of hair fell lazily across his forehead and suddenly, bewilderingly, Nellie wanted to take it into the softness of her fingertips and brush it off his sleeping face.

  Transfixed, she stood in the silver-gray silence, listening to him breathe. What were the thoughts that blew across his brain, what made him from the inside out? And how could she get at it without showing too much of herself? Tonight before she’d fallen asleep a longing had come to her, a thin heated twisting desire to get past her own claws and Deller’s weaseliness and just talk, as if the real reason for talking lay in the talking itself, words opening like hands and touching whatever came to them.

  The solution had come to her as she’d lain in bed, watching sleep settle into corners of the room. What if she talked to one of Deller’s doubles, and asked him the questions she wanted to ask Deller? His doubles must think the same as he did, and there was always the chance they wouldn’t be quite as weasely. Sure, it was going behind his back, almost like mind reading, but what did it matter if he didn’t know about it? Talking to a double was like talking to an idea of a person, sort of like imagining a conversation.

  She’d decided to go several levels in case anything leaked back to Deller, like a conversation heard through a wall. Fortunately the door to his mother’s bedroom was shut, but even so Nellie leaned carefully against Deller’s double’s door as she closed it behind herself, begging it not to creak. Then she turned to whisper his name, letting out a hiss when she found the boy in the bed already awake and watching her, his eyes steady in the silver-gray light.

  “D’you really think we can get Fen back?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

  “I dunno.” Hunching her shoulders, Nellie retreated behind a scowl. Lying in bed pretending to be asleep, and all the while secretly watching her—this double was weasely, maybe even more weasely than Deller.

  “Why did you come home with me today?” Motionless, the boy lay on his back, studying her face.

  “I dunno,” Nellie repeated, trying to calm the wingbeat of fear in her head.

  “You don’t know much, do you?” the double said quietly.

  “No,” she replied.

  “That makes two of us.” Sitting up, he swivelled and placed his back to the wall. “Your hair’s starting to look better. It’s growing a bit.”

  Nellie’s hands zoomed to her bristly scalp. She’d forgotten her kerchief. How was she supposed to hold a conversation of significant meaning, looking like a shaved rat? “How’s your finger?” she asked, patting down the stubble on her head.

  “Gone,” shrugged Deller’s double.


  “Can I see?” she asked, thinking it would be polite to show more than a passing interest.

  “No,” he grunted, and an awkward pause stiffened them both. “But you can sit down if you want,” he added after a moment.

  The space at the end of the bed loomed ominously. Nellie’s eyes darted around the room. To her left stood a small desk and chair. Hitching the hem of her voluminous nightie, she straddled the chair back to front and faced the bed. “Just so you know,” she said, clearing her throat delicately. “I didn’t come here for any magazine stuff.” This had to be absolutely clear.

  Deller’s double shrugged and his mouth quirked. “Better keep it down then,” he advised. “You’ll wake Mom. Believe me, she doesn’t want any magazine stuff either.”

  Nellie sniffed and rubbed at an itch in her nose. Deller’s double was getting weaselier and weaselier. Oh well. It was what came natural to him. “I want to ask you about something,” she said, clearing her throat delicately a second time. “Well, a bunch of things.”

  “Sure,” said Deller’s double, crossing his arms. “Shoot.

  ” Suddenly Nellie was breathing hot scattered breaths, her heart thundering, thundering. “Why don’t you believe in the Goddess?” she blurted, leaning forward.

  Deller’s double looked startled. Then his eyes hooded and a very weasely expression snuck across his face. “I never said I didn’t believe in Her,” he said carefully. “I don’t believe in priests or any of that church crap, but I don’t know what I think about Her. Maybe She’s real. I just haven’t seen anything to prove it.”

  “But She has to be real,” Nellie protested. “I feel Her like my heart beating inside me. I just know She’s real.”