Blackridge Institute (wlw)

Chapter 12

"How do you come to exist? Were you born?"

"Fell into the water, I suppose. And died."

Solomon perched next to her, grasping Casandra's hand. She was laying on the couch in Rook's lab, the one that they had shoved in from the breakroom. She wasn't even breathing. Rook had been concerned about that.

Sol said, "She doesn't really need to breathe. She's just sleeping. Anyway, you were saying?"

"Yes. Enough people die that we don't need to do any active drowning. The science here is that at a certain depth, in certain places, the chemical composition in the water starts preserving instead of decomposing." Rook chuckled.

"Sounds more like magic to me."

"Magic is science we haven't figured out yet."

Casandra didn't really stir awake; instead she opened her eyes fully and tried to stand. Sol pushed her back down onto the couch. She said, "Let me up. He's dead."

"Slow down. You passed out. Who's dead?" This was bewildering news to Sol.

"Ulysses," said Casandra, who had turned grey. Solomon seized her shoulders.

Rook, the voice of reason, said, "How do you know?"

"I felt it. An angel's soul extinguished. It put me under." Casandra, glassy-eyed, continued. "He's not expelled from his vessel, he's gone. Lost to us."

Solomon turned to the Drowned. "Rook. We need those results and we'll be out of here."

Rook crossed her arms, dark veins snaking through translucent skin. "What's this talk of dead angels?"

"You do not want to get involved—"

"The moment you brought those salt flakes into my lab, I was already involved. I need to know." Rook walked over to a console in a corner of the laboratory.

"No," Casandra commanded. "You could die."

"I've died before. And if I die again, I'll come back as something else. And if you want those results, you need to tell me." For good measure, the Drowned slammed her hand down on a button and pulled a lever. Blast-proof shutters rolled down the glass walls and doors.

"You put us in lockdown?" Solomon lamented. "We shouldn't have said anything."

Casandra said, "I panicked."

"Too late now. Do we tell her?"

Rook interjected. "You're not leaving unless you do, or find a way past the defenses and me."

Casandra tried to stand again, and Sol didn't stop her. The angel said to her, "You want those results, don't you? I only hope it's worth it."

To Rook, she said, "Harlan Xate's missing, and so was Ulysses. They worked together here, until Harlan apparently stopped talking to him. And now Ulysses is dead."

"I never liked the Xate man," said Rook. Solomon met Cas's eyes in silent triumph, as if to say, See?

Rook continued, "He was, as they say, a creep. I am still lost, though. What were they working on?"

"We don't know. Only that Ulysses was learning about ascension—human ascension—and Harlan wanted something to do with consciousness."

"I remember. The tangibility of consciousness. Which is an old fantasy, I think. The consciousness is transferable, but there's no precedence for holding it."

"The consciousness is what?" That got Solomon's attention.

"Transferable."

"No it isn't. I would know." Sol had never heard such untrue, inaccurate things before.