Game of Ash and Bone

Chapter 6 - I discover I have been straightwashing myself

I am dreaming again. Dreaming of Lex.
I am in bed. Tangled up in soft blue sheets. Again. I can hear the sound of a wind chime. And waves in the distance. A hand curls through my hair.
"I should go," I say, face in the pillow, looking at the slave tattoo on my wrist. I'm a bedslave? "this is your fathers' house you know what they say."
"I sent away the staff. It's fine," Lex says, putting a hand through my hair, "We got in a few hours ago."
"Yeah but we're not meant to look it," I say, rolling over, smile on my face.
"No but I could have been busy all night," he says, kissing my lips. Slowly.
"Are you actually all right? Your fathers—knowing?" I ask.
"Last year when I turned sixteen my dad said choose your sins. I have," Lex says, kissing me, "I don't care."
"I haven't told my father."
"Your father's different. He cares about you and your future," Lex says, slowly kissing my neck.
"Don't make me laugh," I laugh, tickling his ribs.
He laughs, collapsing over me, we're twisted in the bed, legs happily intertwined.
"Nyx, look at me. I'll fight your father for you too. You know that," he says.
"I know that, it's okay," I say, cupping a hand against his cheek, "I promise I'm fine."
"Good. Because we have actual crimes to commit," Lex says, kissing me.
"If you're trying to seduce me by talking about criminal activity it's going to work," I say.
"Good it'd better. I get you for two more hours then put on some very slutty clothes lunch with my father back to the casino," Lex says.
"Deal," I kiss his mouth strongly, bracing my hands on his shoulders.
"I meant it, you know, when I said it," he says, softly.
"I love you too," I say, then I kiss him again.
I wake up to the feeling of absolute shame.
Well.
That explains a few things.
I am not in fact married. I was his bedslave somehow. He loves me. And I love him. That's why I woke with his name on my lips. That's why I can't stop thinking about him or the sunlight in his hair or the way he tips his head to smile just at me or —
I get it. I should have gotten it earlier. But. I am embarrassed to say.
Mystery solved how I died. So I was his bedslave we actually liked each other grew up together, whatever, wrong person got a hold of me, murdered me. Male consorts aren't looked well upon. Lex is probably upset. He likely doesn't know my corpse got sold. He probably couldn't stop it. He's some lower family, he likely thinks I've been buried by now. Well I soon shall be. More than likely.
And I'm just not going to share this revelation. I don't know how the others would react and honestly my first story was more passable. Tove can stick with that and my poor wife and all that that sounded fine. I'm going to let this one go.
I sit up, slowly. The others are waking. Dawn is just coming to the labyrinth.
"Hungry?" I ask, moving my bag a little.
"Uhuh," Lyra says, hopefully.
"Do we have enough?" Arthur asks, rubbing his face as he sits up.
"Here, for the kids," Nemo tugs a protein bar from his bag. He tosses one to Arthur.
"We're good," I nod in thanks though. We did sort of row last night. I get out part of the MRE and hand the peanut butter to Lyra.
"I like this kind," Arthur says, quietly, looking at the wrapper in his filthy hands, "My mom—when she couldn't be home she'd let me have one of these. As a treat."
I look over at the packaging. It's a decent brand of meal bar. I don't really recall ever having them but I feel like I've seen them.
"I get decent supplies," Nemo shrugs. He's having peanut butter himself, "Keep your strength up."
"Can you show me how to be a psychic?" Arthur asks, hopefully.
Nemo nods, "Yeah, once we start walking."
We get ourselves sorted, and agree to walk down in the maze, then come up in the evening. It's not worth getting shot at by drones with the kids, while Nemo and I might risk it they are certainly not worth the risk.
Getting off the wall takes a moment, Nemo and I can jump down the sides, but Tove and Arthur simply don't know how. In the end, Nemo hops down, and I lower Arthur and Lyra down to his arms. That's easiest. Tove wants to try to learn the jump so she'll follow me. I don't know how I know how to do that but I assume shenanigans and lightly blame Lex.
Lyra thinks being tossed is fun, thankfully, and Nemo catches her easily. Arthur's a bit bigger and argues for a moment that he can jump himself, then gives in and lets me lower him part of the way while Tove holds my ankles. Then I toss him the last distance to Nemo's arms. Nemo isn't a tall man, or built, but he catches the boy with easy confidence, letting him fall fully into his arms.
"Got you, there," he sets him down quickly, putting a hand on Lyra's head.
I show Tove how to bounce off the walls, and she does, falling the last distance but rolling to a dencent landing. We agree to teach Arthur how later, though I doubt if the slight boy has the necessary strength. He's been severely malnourished, I'd guess his mother was trying with those bars while she worked, but it wasn't enough for a growing kid. I know by comparison I'm terribly well fed, with thick muscles. Turns out I'm a bedslave, that's why mystery solved there I'm not going to talk about it.
We set out, Lyra insists she can walk but I suspect I'll have to carry her. I take my backpack. Ideally we'll find supplies or weapons here, but if the cannibals are as prevalent as last night, then it's all going to be picked over.
"How much do you know? About psychic abilities?" Nemo asks.
I raise my hand.
"I was not talking to you."
"Fine," I mutter. I didn't know anything I'm obnoxious.
"My mom used to tell me to focus. She said I was special, so she knew I could. But when I tested at the Academy they said I was useless they wouldn't even let me try, cause of my tics, the most I can do is hold gaze," Arthur admits.
"Holding gaze is the gateway. You take someone's gaze and then you move through it, enter the mind. Imagine their gaze as a gate. You simply have to let yourself in," Nemo says, spreading a hand, then he slowly curls his fingers together, "once you're inside, grasp the mind."
"Okay," Arthur frowns, "Then what?"
"It's a feeling. And it takes practice. To start out you'll have to hold the gaze a minute, maybe two. At the Academy they'd have captives forced to look at you so you can practice it. Animals are a bit more humane. Lock gaze, then journey on," he says.
"Not everyone can do that," I put in. Psychics are dangerous but I know that controlling a mind fully is rare, rare enough that there are few safe guards.
"More people than you think, we just don't get the proper training, or don't use it," Nemo says, dismissively, "outside of here I'm a menace. No one knew I could do all this before. I was average."
"You controlled what? Four or five at a time?" I ask.
"Yes, Puppetmaster," Nemo smiles, his voice full of malice again. "Always."
"How though? Once you're inside?" Arthur asks.
"It's like—different screens. You can see different things happening all at the same time, through their eyes, and your own. Psychics can drive themselves mad, that's why I can't do it for long," Nemo explains.
"But you're really good—so that's why you were a guard?" Tove asks, frowning, "You had to have been fairly important."
"Like I said. I didn't let them know what I could do," Nemo shrugs, "I'm only doing it here to stay alive. I wouldn't otherwise."
"Well maybe I can help," Arthur says, "Next monster we see, I want to try to hypnotize it at least."
"It takes years to perfect it, you can start slow, but don't go too fast and—entering a mind is pain. Beyond staying alive, I don't recommend it," Nemo says.
"Is it?" I ask, frowning. I thought it was more of a high. But I could be wrong.
"Yes," Nemo says, "It's another creature's pain. I feel them all die as I kill them. I don't wish it on anyone."
"How many years did it take you to learn?" Arthur frowns.
"Forty," Nemo winks, actually smiling at the eager boy. So he must be forty. Huh I was way off.
"Really? Wait that's like your whole life," Arthur says.
"I've been practicing my entire life," Nemo nods, "It takes that. All I'm saying is work slow, we'll practice hypnosis."
"I remember that—psychics who could control the enemy went to war on the continent—didn't they go insane? Or most of them did?" Tove asks.
"That was a hundred years ago, hundred and fifty, during the last Portuguese wars. They sent them all to the front, most of the powerful families sent psychics it's where the tradition of the Academy started, to train them," I say, before I think of why I know it. Lex told me? More than likely he was always reading aloud to me in the memories. And he was rich enough to have a bedslave I guess history would come up.
"They all went insane. Yes. That's why psychics like me were content to be just guards. Never push the limits of our powers," Nemo explains, "Those brave soldiers saved our navy, won the war, won a win for shipping trade. And paid the price."
"You sound resentful," Tove frowns.
"They were men like me committed to an institution mad out of their minds from controlling hundreds. They didn't deserve that they were all conscripted, most didn't even get their sanity back. Yes I'm resentful it's what my kind went through," Nemo says, "That part of the story doesn't get told to the masses but it's still there."
"Well we are all here, in this fight to the death so—," I'm not feeling terribly sorry for people who died over a hundred years ago.
"Yes! And you're slaves, you probably have your own lore, except you lost it all with your memories, whatever your people went through Scots are generally upset," Nemo waves a hand to illustrate stories he wasn't told or doesn't care to remember.
"You're a slave too," I say, frowning.
"Guard isn't the same as whatever got either of you murdered," he points out.
"Yes," I say, quietly. Except I didn't have it bad. Every memory I've been happy with Lex.
"You got in trouble though," Arthur says.
"Oh I'm here as a direct result of my own actions," Nemo says, dryly.
"I thought psychics were lucky," Tove frowns.
Nemo scoffs a bit.
"My mom always said I was a gift," Arthur says, quietly.
"She did?" Nemo looks surprised. I have the gut instinct baby psychics are trouble.
"She always said I was a gift and special, always," Arthur shrugs, "Now she's probably dead."
"Why do you say that?" Tove asks, gently.
"I haven't seen her in a year. The brothel she was at they didn't treat her good and she was a slave she couldn't leave. She begged them to let me go to test at the Academy because some high end client was my father or something. She didn't' know who but I'm psychic so she swore I was special. The academy kicked me out after a few months they got around to figuring out I'm like this. Then I got sent down to have half my life sucked into him," Arthur points at me.
"Half our life could be long," I say, generously.
"It's been like a year. And she'll see the TV," he gestures to the cameras, "If she's still alive."
"Fortunes change. Perhaps she even made her way out or got bought. You never know," Nemo says, generously. I may revise my mistrust of him he is being nice to this sad kid.
"Or she's still getting fucked up by shitty clients, and I'm not even there to scare off the ones who'd follow her home," Arthur says.
"Ugh," Tove winces.
"You did that?" Nemo asks, shaking his head, in obvious disgust. I get it. He, like me, was having a cushy affair. Seems we both got caught. We weren't on the rough end of life like these guys and it's pretty sick to think the kid was doing that while were innocently getting bedded.
"Little hypnosis, they'd run, minute I got an eye lock. I couldn't hold it," Arthur shrugs.
"The god is kind, perhaps another angel was sent to look after you mother," Nemo offers. He's trying to help I know but it's not realistic.
"You believe in the God of Death?" Tove asks.
"No, but what else is there? Religions have been founded and discarded over millennia one God remains, the God of Death, and he has his angels. That's where psychics come from, servants of the God, or so they say," Nemo says.
I try to remember religion then come up blank. My priority in life was a beautiful boy not understanding religion or math.
"It's the stories they tell you to make the world seem better," Nemo says, shrugging.
"Isn't he—like coming back though—? That's how it goes isn't it?" I ask.
"All the gods fell but the god of death," Lyra says, obediently, "That's what they say in church."
"All the gods fell but the god of death. And one day he'll return to the land in the form of an angel, to claim all the race of men. The race of angels shall be exempt and they shall begin a new world of peace," I say, quietly. Mine didn't come from church. I don't know why I know it. But it appears I spent a lot of my time being homosexual while a beautiful boy read aloud to me. So I assume that's how I know it.
"That's like a chant or something isn't it?" Tove asks, "And the psychics say they're the angels."
"Right so he's already come back, and we're fucked. I don't know, did last night seem angelic to you? No, it's only stories," Nemo says.
"I have to pray to the God," Lyra pipes up.
"Not here you don't," I mutter.
"My mum used to make me. Every night. It was stupid, it always felt so empty," Arthur agrees.
"People tell stories to make them feel better about their world. A god of Death brings comfort so they cling to it," Nemo says.
"I don't recall ever worrying about it," I frown. I don't think that entered my thought process. Ever. I've had quite a few memories now they're just being delightfully homosexual while reading old poetry. Or things of that nature.
"I do, I remember being told to pray to the God, going to church, I know what that is," Tove says.
I shrug.
"You probably went," Tove says.
"Ah—maybe," I possibly should tell her my realization about my life. She's been nice. And I could admit I'm a bedslave.
"I hope my mum isn't watching," Arthur says, looking up.
"Why?" Nemo asks, very gently considering.
"Only see me get killed," Arthur says, shrugging.
"Hopefully none of our loved ones are watching, whoever they are—he has a wife at home," Tove says, very nicely.
"Does he though?" Nemo asks, more judgmentally than necessary.
"Yes that's what he remembered," Tove says.
"Yeah definitely," I lie oh well it's said now. "I remember it." That didn't sound genuine. Oh well.
We make decent progress, winding our way through the maze. We double back only once, the rest of the time we make decent calls about which turn to take. Nemo is characteristically unhelpful with that it seems he's on this ride for fun little else. He's helpful with the kids though, which I suppose is an asset. Arthur in particular responds well to him, he's clearly never had the attention of another psychic before and Nemo is patient with the boy's questions.
By midday we have found no weapons or helpful items, and are being stalked. We think by an animal but we aren't fully sure. Nemo puts in that the cannibals don't usually hunt during the day.
"If we have enough kills in this sector won't they set it on fire tonight?" I ask.
Nemo nods.
"Meaning we could lure the cannibals back in?" Tove realizes.
Nemo nods, "They're usually a little smarter than that. But."
"But worth a try! I'm happy being bait," I say, raising my hand to indicate how happy I am to volunteer.
"Of course you are," Nemo breaths, with a mixture of contempt and I don't know what else. An emotion I cannot name or place and it's quickly gone from his face which shows little but practiced calm.
"Let me try to hypnotize one of them," Arthur volunteers.
"With me there. It could prove useful," Nemo agrees.
"it's been following us all day. If we turn around, meet it on its terms," I say, shrugging a little.
"Better than being come upon, I agree," Tove says.
"What do we think it is?" Arthur asks.
"I don't know but rest assured Nyx here will misidentify it," Nemo says, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile.
"I'm sorry I get my knowledge of animals from—," ancient pottery, "—something I can't verbally articulate but I'm choosing to believe was accurate," I say.
"Did you hear it?" Tove asks.
"Yeah but I'm sticking with it."
We're being stalked by a zebra-panther. But I'm sure I'm not going to get to talk about that. Technically we're being stalked by a group of zebra-panthers, about six of them to be more exact. Lean, and hungry, with bones jutting through dull fur, eyes glowing as their mouths drip with foam. They catch up with us within a half an hour of formulating the plan, near a significant slope up in the labyrinth path.
"Before we begin I want the record to show those are completely normal tigers," Nemo breaths. (That's not a real animal).
"Zebra panthers," I correct nicely.
"Wish we knew where he's from," Tove mutters.
The zebra-panthers slash their spiked tails, growling low in their throats.
"Scary stuff!" Lyra declares, covering her face with a hand.
"One of these days she's gonna say that and none of us are going to know what she saw and it'll be so creepy," I giggle, axe in hand.
Nemo looks over at me with absolute concern.
"Shouldn't you be making eye contact?" I ask.
"My skills have progressed to the extent that I can side eye a total idiot, and be prepared to defend myself at the same time," Nemo says.
"I'll take right," I say, shifting to be prepared for the first one to charge.
"Center," Arthur says, focusing on them, clearly trying to catch their eyes.
One charges, Tove dives left to attract the others. I leap forward with my axe.
Two immediately turn on the others, victims of Nemo's puppetering no doubt.
I get a blow in on mine, but not fatal. I'm sprayed once again with blood, and the beast turns, rounding on me, growling. I spare a glance over at the kids. Lyra is standing actually smiling hand over her eyes. Arthur is a few feet from one of the monsters, hand up, eyes white as he makes full eye contact with the beast, which is not charging him.
They are alive and I don't have any more time to spare, I turn back to my zebra-panther right before it charges, this time I roll to the ground to avoid the blow, raising the axe up to try to hit soft belly.
The immediate waterfall of blood and organs rewards me, as I blink blood from my eyes, washed in the foul stuff I console myself with the idea that at least this is probably disguising my scent.
The monster lands just past me, hitting me with a back leg as it falls lifeless to the earth. I'm knocked sprawling and immediately scramble for my axe to defend myself, but that's unnecessary.
Nemo's two have dispatched all the others, and are now tearing each other apart. Tove is still standing, bloody axe in hand, looking around as I am to check the others. Lyra is still perfectly fine and hiding her eyes. And Arthur is standing before his zebra-panther, hand out, staring into its eyes.
It slowly lowers to the ground, resting its head on its paws. Arthur's eyes are rolled up in his head.
"Is that okay?" I ask Nemo, with enough anger in my voice I hope he knows I'm holding him personally responsible if he's led the kid astray. I don't think it should go on this long. Nemo nods the slightest bit.
Arthur kneels down, hand out to the creature's muzzle as it closes its eyes. The monster sighs a long breath. Then does not take in another. Dust and ash rises from its last breath.
Arthur stands, eyes slowly fading back to their normal blue, "I felt it—I didn't want it to hurt. So I told its heart to stop."
"What?" I ask. Controlling a sensitive any involuntary organ? I don't think I was ever an expert on psychics but that feels a bit complicated. And dangerous. He did that relatively quickly, albeit painlessly.
"Good job," Nemo shakes his shoulder.
"You made it die," Tove checks my face. She knows I know a little bit more about the psychics than she does. I don't fully know how I know I am blaming association with Lex.
"Yes, I didn't want to feel its pain," Arthur says.
"Don't. So long as nothing eats you, you're fine—all psychics are different, it's rarer to in tune with bodily process I don't, but a guard I know did," Nemo says, dismissively, when he sees Tove's and my faces.
"Hm, feels weird though," I say.
"It's fine," Nemo growls, glancing at Arthur. Okay good point. If the kid is good that's only an asset no reason to scare him.
Tove comes to the same conclusion. She goes over to Lyra, "Scary stuff is gone love, if you don't look that way—yeah."
"Incoming," Nemo moves infront of Arthur who's still looking at the corpses.
A drone is circling overhead. Tove and I both react violently, raising our weapons and moving in front of Lyra.
But it's merely dropping a parcel. Supplies?
"Festus does love us," I observe.
"Festus got paid," Nemo predicts, "be careful sometimes they send traps just to do it."
I undo the package. It's much needed first aid supplies, actual liquid soap, and packets of food. Not MRES. Food. A couple of bags of cookies, chocolate covered. And even more appealing foil packs of tuna, and salmon, as well as olives and figs. All prepackaged but my mouth is watering at the thought.
"Can I have it?" Lyra asks, picking up a packet of cookies.
"Go for it," I say. I'm too hungry to suggest rationing. Or anything mature like that. After our day and night the treats seem well desevered. "Will you eat this? The fish is good for you."
"What are these?" Arthur picks up a foil pack.
"Figs—they're sweet, fruit. Good on their own or drizzled in honey," I say.
"Nice diet for a slave," Nemo says. I assume he's implying a bedslave. I'm offended. He's right. But I'm offended.
"I think I've had olives," Tove says.
"What's it taste like?" Arthur asks, suspicious.
"Oily, and a bit salty, it's an acquired taste a bit," I say, ripping open a pack of salmon. It's packed in olive oil. At the moment much needed calories.
"Here," I scoop out some and hand it to Lyra, "Try it—much better warm but still."
The little girl shakes her head, "I don't like it."
"Here," Arthur hands me the packet of olives, "Are they good for you?"
"I don't know," Tove says.
"Not really I don't think, the oil will have some calories but they're more a treat," I say, as I do I look up and Nemo does too. We both realized at the same time.
"Odd thing to include in a package," he says it first, damn.
"I agree," I say, thinly.
"Stop it you two—I know distrusting each other is a fun hobby or something, but it's obvious some deranged rich person sent this because they are the ones watching! And their priviledged asses don't understand survival items they probably just picked at random from some list," Tove says, helping Lyra open a packet of cookies.
"True," I say, savoring a plump olive. It tastes like, summer by the ocean. Looking at chemtrails. Red rubies on bare skin. Slick olives being pushed into my mouth by cold fingers. I have led an unusual life I think.
And this is the second time food has held a personal memory.
"Those are different," Tove tries an olive.
"It's an acquired taste—the black ones are milder," I say, as she frowns.    
"Here these are plain, just a little sweet," Arthur offers Lyra a fig piece but she shakes her head.
"Strange items to include," Nemo says. He's eating just a packet of tuna, but now he picked up a small vial of soap, "Peppermint scent. How quaint."
"Again this is a stupid rich person," Tove says, "Just be glad it's not—peopleSoap."
"Can we NOT talk about that?" Arthur asks.
"PeopleSoap? Why?" I ask.
The boy laughs, "It's so gross!"
"So are you," I poke his arm. He laughs, trying not to choke on the salmon.
Nemo actually cracks a smile, opening a packet of olives. He eats them without hesitation. Interesting he's had that before too? But he said he was a guard.
"Here, take your rich person non-human soap," Tove puts the vials in our pockets, "At the least we can clean out our injuries."
We finish our lunch, packing extra into my bag and stuffing our pockets in case we lose the bag. That done we clean our injures as best we can. The care package contained big bottles of water as well as purification tablets. Beating the alligation that the sender totally didn't know what they were doing. It was mostly useful. But we don't bring that up. Nemo and I would but we don't dare bother Tove again, when she's already told us to get along. And she's right. If either of us were up to something it's not like we'd admit it. And we've all saved each other more than once.
The first aid kits get the kids fully patched up, and Tove and I mostly. Nemo isn't badly injured and he takes a roll of gauze to deal with himself. Tove and I rapidly strip and let the other clean us up. I've got a couple of good bruises and several scrapes but nothing serious. She has a laceration to her ribs but cleaned out it ought to be fine. The kids it was primarily skinned knees, hands, and blisters, though Arthur at some point took a bad blow to his shoulder, a deep enough cut that I wash out with cleanser, then soap, then bandage.
We've only barely started out before another drone finds us. This one pretty much damns the first. It's no water, just purification tablets. A host of meal bars, better looking than our MREs but equally nutritious, sugary candies, those are fortified I expect, water purification tabs, anti-biotics, flashlights (something I hadn't thought of but would prove useful), as well as a couple courtesy packs of chips and cookies. The kids dig into those immediately and we don't stop them. When we could die in a few hours none of us have the heart.
At the bottom of the bag is a clean, new machete, and a couple of thick jackets.
"These are asbestos, sewn into Kevlar, they'll be nearly bullet proof, and flame proof," Nemo is narrating this.
"That was very useful, someone is rooting for you guys," Tove tells the kids.
"You're more likely to get injured," Arthur frowns at me, "I'm always staying back anyway."
"It's your size, and anyway, I'm fine," I say, checking the black jacket. It's long, with a hood. He could completely curl up in it and be protected from fire, and at least it'll prevent the odd wound from a knife, it won't stop a blade.
"Take it, and the blade," Nemo recommends, packing a couple of mealbars into the outside of his bag.
"Do you have room for more?" Tove asks.
"No, I came well supplied," he purrs.
I roll my eyes, stuffing my pockets with what I can. We make short work of the treats, and the rest we pack away for later. I'm glad Arthur has a decent weapon, and they both have the coats.
"Specific," I note, helping Lyra put on hers.
"Some sponsors have brains," Nemo says, shrugging, "they know we're protecting the kids as long as we can."
"Are you sure that's what's its made out of?" Tove asks.
"It's the same as his shirt," Arthur says, observing the fabric.
"I've won three times I get decent supplies," Nemo shrugs, "It's not perfect but it's better than regular fabric at least it won't actively catch on fire."
"Here, you don't take this off, okay?" Tove asks, fixing Lyra's hair, "It'll protect you."
The little girl nods, "It's hot."
"Won't be for long," I say, looking up at the stormy sky.
Within a half an hour it's begun to rain, and not just a good english drizzle no. A torrential downpour where are we Paris? This is absurd. The rain immediately soaks us to the skin. Nemo's bag looks waterproof. Mine isn't and I know the contents is getting soaked.
"Here," I take the Winnie the Pooh book out of my bag, and hold it out to Nemo, "Can you wrap this up?"
"You just assume my bag is waterproof?"
"Oh my god you're the most combative person alive ISNT' IT WATERPROOF SIR PREPARED FOR EVERYTHING I'VE WON THREE FUCKING TIMES?"
"Lower your voice. Yes of course it is," he stuffs the book in the top, zipping it quickly.
We keep walking. Our only method of marking our trail, marks on the ground, our own footprints, or a mark on the wall we remember, are nearly impossible to find in the pouring rain. The ground is a bed of ashes, from hundreds of past fires incinerating fallen contestants, that ash becomes thick mud in the rain. Lyra trips and falls twice, the second time crying when her knee hits a rock.
"Cosmo, give me the backpack," Tove says, holding Lyra up as she sobs.
I put the little girl on my shoulders. Scrawny as she is she still weighs more than the backpack. I take her, my axe on my side, and Tove takes the bag. Arthur still has his bag which is loaded with food. We don't need water but I contemplate filling up a bottle anyway. We have purifier tabs, but unfortunately I don't want to have the extra weight. It's not like London is known for dry spells. We'll likely experience another storm.
With the rain nearly blinding us, Tove suggests we stop, and I concur.
"We could be going in circles," I point out, "We have no way of knowing, why wear ourselves out."
"Those drones are a death sentence. Others saw that, now they know about where we are. And that we have fresh food, and we are fresh food. We need to keep moving," Nemo calls, over the driving rain.
"How will they know where we are, when we don't know where we are?" Tove asks.
"Oh believe me," Nemo says, "They'll know."
Of course he's proven right within a few hours.
The rain doesn't quit, and our progress is naturally slow. I switch Lyra from my shoulders to my chest, but either way I'm sore and miserable. I think I was in pretty good shape to start out, but a night on the ground, multiple injuries, plus walking all day carrying a backpack or a kid, hasn't done me any favors. My feet are chaffing, I'm soaked to the skin. Each step by now is painful. Nemo aside, the others aren't in much better shape, in fact dare I say they're worse.
Lyra is shivering with cold and other than cuddling her to my chest I have no way to warm her up. We're all coated in ash and dirt, and the dressing and ointment we put on our injuries is long washed off. Tove, while she too was probably fairly fit to start out, is suffering under the weight of my bag. I'm sure she's not used to it I'm not used to it, and conditions are and have been poor, besides which her death wounds were multiple shots to her chest.
Arthur, for his part, was malnourished to begin with, sounds like the kid barely left an apartment let alone ran around outside like this. I'm sure his boots are chafing, and without proper sleep or food plus scared? He's shivering he's so cold, and while he doesn't complain he's obviously uncomfortable, stumbling a few times. The second time Nemo actually gains a conscience. While the professional psychic isn't suffering as bad as the rest of us, his clothes and shoes fit fine, the water is annoying at best and conditions are undeniably poor.
"Let me carry you a while," Nemo offers Arthur, "Or I'll take the girl and let him but you nearly fell."
"I'm fine," Arthur says, resolutely, "I'm not a baby."
"Not saying you are. I'm saying those shoes don't fit and you've fallen twice," Nemo sighs, brushing water from his face.
"I'm fine," Arthur says, walking past him.
I shrug as much as I can. Arguably we need the psychic as free as possible, both of them, but Arthur's clearly struggling. We all are, I don't have the energy to argue or present another solution.
And it is in that state that the next cannibal hoard finds us.
We're stumbling through the ashes and mud, me carrying Lyra on my shoulders as she shivers with cold. We are all completely drenched. And exhausted. Our last meal was hours ago, and we're running on a few hours of sleep.
And they come from both sides. Perfect formation. Probably been waiting for us. At least twenty in front of us then another fifteen or twenty behind. This group has crossbows.
"One move, and we shoot you where you stand," the leader steps out. Ragged clothes, face smeared with blood. A bit too gaunt. And already twitching. Too much human flesh.
We size them up and Tove and I exchange a glance. If we do move we'll be shot. I'd fight, but I know the others aren't up for a fight.
I set Lyra down, slowly, moving her next to Tove. I realize after a moment we're soaking, and the rain likely obscures the tattoo on Nemo's neck. They don't know who he is.
"If it isn't the puppetmaster. How did you get involved in a group of amateurs?" The leader of the cannibals asks. Okay, so they do know him.
"Nice seeing you again Lyle! Been a long time, god you're looking terrible," Nemo says, lightly.
"None of your mind tricks, you probably can't see fifty feet ahead in this rain. And you certainly can't see out of the back of your head," the leader says.
I'm going to guess that's true or they'd already be dead.
"Everyone, meet Lyle, Lyle was on my first time first time down here. I betrayed him and escaped, I think he's chosen to view that incident negatively," Nemo says, incredibly magnanimously given the sentence.
"I'm going to give you the courtesy of breaking the children's necks, for old time's sake," Lyle says. Weird name for a cannibal but I feel like I'm not going to get to talk about that.
"Why is that a courtesy?" Tove asks, stalling for time. We don't have a plan. But I'm forming one.
"Because I saved his life twice before using him as a diversion," Nemo says, not overly quietly. He's tipping his head the slightest bit, I don't know if he's gotten eye contact or not. Arthur's clearly trying.
"Oh, good, he remembers," Lyle says.
"Lyle? Lyle right? Weird name I think given your chosen profession," I say, setting down my axe and taking off my shirt.
"Stay back—," Lyle says, raising a knife.
"Why? Why? You're going to eat me right? Fucking eat me then, come on, I want you to. What are you afraid? Why? I'm a great meal," I say, stepping forward again. I start to take off my pants as well.
"Stop right there—DON'T LOOK HE'S—"
The cannibals, behind and infront of us, promptly turn on each other. They scream as they die, killing one another and then slitting their own throats. Lyle crumples to the ground, strangling himself with his own hands.
I pick up my shirt, watching to make sure they're all dying.
Nemo's eyes flash, then he shakes his head a bit, freeing himself from the vision, as the cannibals die in their own blood.
"What the fuck?" Tove asks, she was covering Lyra's eyes.
"Not his first maneuver with a psychic," Nemo snarls.
"What?" Arthur frowns, "What did—,"
"By doing something, they were all going to absolutely look at, he could get eye contact. Which is common fucking sense," I say, fixing my clothes, "A strip tease isn't the ideal way to do it but bloody effective wouldn't you say?"
"That did work," Tove admits because she's normal.
"You said your record was nine that was like fifty people?" Arthur says.
"Thank you," I say.
"And we're all still alive. So what?" Nemo asks, rubbing his head.
"It's making him sick," I realize.
"And you don't know anything about psychics?" Nemo snarls.
"I don't know anything about anything, I'm literally dead," I say, hand on my chest.
"Okay, stop arguing. We're all still alive, that's a win, let's keep going," Tove says.
"They are both lying," Arthur says, looking between us.
"I'm not lying! I don't member how I know anything—and on a side note this isn't arguing but isn't Lyle a weird name for a cannibal?" I ask.
"No, what does that even mean?" Tove asks.
"Yes now that you mention it," Nemo nods.
"What are you talking about—he got named before becoming a cannibal," Arthur argues.
"Yeah but he could have changed it," I say.
"I did bring that up to him last time I saw him, he wasn't appreciative," Nemo says.
"Were you—abandoning him to escape the level and possibly die when you were suggesting it?" I ask.
"The circumstances of the suggestion are really irrelevant, Nyx."
So I take that as a yes. I feel little bit better that this asshole shouted suggested alias's over his shoulder while abandoning the guy to certain death. That means this personality is not for my benefit he's really always Like This.
It's probably nightfall but we continue on. It's too wet to try to get ontop of the wall so we'll have to spend the night sleeping, in shifts. We grimly agree that we'll have to just find a wall somewhat out of the rain and hope for the best.
Cold meal bars don't seem like such a treasure now, but the kids bolt them down anyway. I swallow one dry and then take a sip of water, passing around the bottle. We set out a couple of bottle to refill with rainwater, and try to lean against our soaking gear.
"You'll get trench foot, take your shoes off," Nemo recommends, taking his own boots off, and socks, "They won't dry out but it helps to let your skin breath, trust me. If the rain clears in the morning we'll go ontop of the wall and try to dry off."
I'm too tired to argue like I want to. No reason just to argue I think it would be relaxing and I'm not sure why.
We sit down in the shadow of the wall, shoes off admittedly feels good, filthy as I am. Tove and I lean against each other with Lyra in between us, trying to shelter her with our bodies. Arthur sits on my other side, hood pulled up, between me and Nemo. Nemo is sitting head down, hands before his face.
"How'd you get the guys behind us?" Tove asks.
"What?" He mutters, when we're all silent for a moment.
"How'd you get the guys behind us? You didn't turn around. Ever."
"I had them to begin with, when they came up we all turned. They didn't know who I was. I was missing enough in front they spotted me and turned ahead. Why? You don't trust me now?" Nemo snarls.
"Would it be a good idea, to trust you?" Tove asks.
He doesn't answer, face still in his hand.
"I'll take the first watch," I say, he's clearly ill. And as combative as I am I know we probably wouldn't have gotten out of that without him.
They don't argue, Tove and Lyra curling up together, the little girl mostly sheltered from the rain. Nemo is still clearly suffering, he didn't eat either. Arthur stares ahead, miserable and soaked.
"You all right after that tiger this morning?" Nemo asks, him quietly. I assume I'm not intended to hear so I ignore it.
"Yeah," Arthur says.
"Stopping it's heart like that—isn't easy. What made you think do that?" Nemo asks.
"Because it didn't feel cruel. It felt—like peace. It felt like going home," the boy says, quietly, "Is it bad?"
"No. No. It just gets strange in your head sometimes. So I'm checking on you," he says, "We take care of each other."
"Yeah, my father didn't, he's the reason I'm here," Arthur scoffs, "My mom was sure he'd come back for us. But he's the one who sold her there."
"He's likely dead. Many psychics died in the wars, if not lost their minds," Nemo says, a bit gently.
"You sound like my mom. Not everything is okay. Sometimes in fact usually, people are fucking awful," Arthur says, folding his arms.
"Yeah. And sometimes we're all right. You're very brave. Your father would be a fool not to be proud of you," Nemo says.
"Oh yeah? Is your dad proud of you?" Arthur asks.
"That—is not a good example of what I'm trying to illustrate and is honestly a very different situation—,"
"Forget it," Arthur turns away a bit, putting his head down on one knee.
I look over to see hurt register on the psychic's face, and I wonder for a moment if it's due to the boy's ill mood or memories of his own family, or just the fact that he can't even comfort this kid who will probably die in a few days. I've felt the last one. I catch his eyes and not a little, half smiling. Nemo looks a bit surprised but shrugs a little. A silent acknowledgment that I appreciate he's being nice to the kid. I certainly can't help when I have no memories.
My watch is uneventful, except for the pouring rain, and after a couple of hours I wake Tove gently. It was supposed to be Nemo next but we already agreed to let the psychic sleep. We need our rest but it's only going to do so much good at this point. The longer he can keep us alive, the better, and the longer he's inclined to do so, the better.
Tove wakes up, we both drink some water and then put the bottles out to fill up. Hydrate while we can. And then I take over leaning half curled over Lyra, blocking her from the rain. Nemo and Arthur both fell asleep, the psychic curled up with his head on his knees, arms around his legs, sword in hand, leaning on his bag which he almost never takes off. Arthur started out slumped and is now leaned against the older psychic's side, both are completely passed out, despite the uncomfortable conditions.
As before I don't feel like I'm going to drop off. So I focus on memories of Lex, his face, the sunlight in his eyes the way his fingers would brush through my hair. And relaxing in those soft memories, I drop off to sleep.
After my day I was fully ready for a 'being ambiguously homosexual and reading old poetry' memory. But that isn't what I get.
It's a noisy casino, dim lights, the shout of laughter and rattle of dice. I'm shirtless and well dressed like a bed slave, in loose pants, and jewels around my neck little else. There's a couple of others with me, and we're with Lex, who is wearing a see through mesh blue top, pink bra, and tight glittery pants. He's wearing a metal choker which I'm sure is platinum, and has numerous piercings in each ear. This feels like typical Lex.
"I don't like this place," one of the other slaves mutters, as we walk in.
"Oh I'm sure, the number of 'underground casinos that allow psychics where we can launder ten grand in under ten hours'. Are incredibly limited," Lex says, hand on his chest. He's wearing dark mirrored glasses.
Oh.
Wait.
A.
Fucking.
Minute.
"You didn't have to tell them you're psychic. Aren't Academy drop outs purged from the records?" I ask.
"Yeah use your psychic powers on them," the other slave says.
"You're both hilarious I'm going to go lose at Poker. Aimes is in position," Lex says, slapping our bellies with the backs of his hands.
He's fucking psychic? That's how I know about them. And why I have no inhibition staring Nemo down I'm used to it and hell he probably practices on me. This has to be a more recent memory we're old enough to be here and apparently laundering money? Why? Well we were on stake out earlier. It is occurring to me I don't lead a legal life.
"Nine thirty," Lex whispers.
I immediately move blocking line of sight, "You've got the glasses."
"Yeah, I know but I'm getting a read, sad sack third chair in, at blackjack," Lex mutters.
"What? How dare another psychic be stealing or laundering money at a club we are trying to launder money at?" The other slave laughs.
"Do you know who it is?" I ask, scanning the room trying to pick out who he means.
"No, but I feel him, let's go to a different floor we don't need to be noticed," Lex says, hand on my back.
And then I do see him. Sitting at a blackjack table, no glasses, hair longer yes and in fine black silk clothes, is the psychic in question.
Nemo.