Inveigle

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Storm

The numbers above the elevator were the only source of light. I walked around the front desk and past the columns in the first floor lobby by waiting for lightning to flash through the windows and memorizing my next steps. The elevator opened as I neared. I felt strangely calm as I entered and pressed floor 35.

Remembering the path to the room where I nearly lost my life twice was easy. Getting in was hard. I didn't have an access card. The lights were off under the door, but a few doors down in the first lab there was a glow creeping onto the floor. I knocked once. A moment later a very hesitant young man cracked the door open, clearly confused that anyone would knock and not use their card. Before he could register panic when he saw me, I channeled Pathos.

"Hello, handsome," I cooed. He was caught off guard. He was still confused, concerned, but he also wasn't about to pull an alarm on me. "You know who I am; it's natural to feel the way you do," I smiled. Then I shifted to Logos, "We both know you don't want to and can't defeat me. I don't want you to get in trouble either. So let's do this the simplest way possible."

I concentrated hard and felt the cool heaviness in my right palm. I began stepping forward into the space. I nodded at the support beam in the back of the room. Without hesitation the little scientist walked over to the beam and wrapped his hands around it. I latched the handcuffs and dug around in his pocket for his access card.

"Shhh," I put my finger to my lips as I closed the door.

I walked the halls back to the other room and held the card up to the door. I heard the lock click and the light turned automatically on. I pushed the cold metal door open. The table I had been strapped down to was still there in the middle of the lab. There were rocks in my stomach at the memory. I skirted around the metal slab and began my search. There were racks upon racks of empty needles. I skimmed each row looking for the one I remembered piercing my neck. The thickest of all the glass vials, designed to be strong enough to somehow hold one of the three entities. I grabbed one...no, better make it two, just in case. I very carefully attached syringes and caps to the containers and placed one gently in each of my pockets. Then I made my way back to the elevator.

I pressed 112, and it glowed red. The plan was to mingle with the rest of the party and get close enough to Persim to attack, to remove Ethos from her, like Pathos had been sucked from me. My teeth ground together at the memory of the drill bit sensation in my neck. More than likely, I would be recognized quickly, so I had to be fast. Knowing Ethos' personality, I was sure President Persim would be in the center of the room, easy for all eyes to find and admire her renewed authority. I knew the moment I had Ethos in the vial I had to inject him into myself. He wouldn't have time to use me because the Secret Service would kill me before I even left the room. Pathos and Logos knew they were about to die, too. They had never still been residing in a mind when the host died, but they knew it was the only way to take their brother out of this world.

The doors began to shut on floor 35 when a perfectly manicured hand was thrust in between them at the last second. The doors slid back and Persim slid in. The glint of a knife caught my attention. It was simple and elegant. The blade matched the hilt in pure silver. The handle was carved in ornate patterns. Clearly this was Ethos' design. A gun would have been much more efficient, much more President Persim. No, the knife was personal. Sibling to sibling. In my left hand I pulled out an extraction syringe. In my right, I held nothing yet. I tried imagining an axe again, but my head hurt. Ethos was screwing with my mind. The pain began behind my eyes, making the white light from the fluorescent elevator bulb too bright. It spread to the back of my head, and I wasn't sure if it was the pain making me hallucinate or if I really could hear the screams of Logos and Pathos.

I saw the flash of silver in the knick of time. I stepped to my left and the knife went past my shoulder. The President looked at me with a wild and crazed look in her eyes. She drew the knife up again over her head to strike. I could only think of that knife ripping into my flesh, and then there it was. The weight I had been waiting to feel in my palm. It wasn't the best weapon, it was the same weapon. The replicated knife was the only thing I could concentrate on long enough to create. I dodged another blow aimed to plunge into my chest, and took a counter swipe at her face. She backed away, my knife missing her nose by a hair.