The Unwritten Sin

Chapter 43

The pillars were marble, shaped squarely but intricately, and the floor matched them. Beyond the first shelf of books, the room opened up, and there was another wall full of windows looking out onto the western sea. The sunlight streamed in, casting the orange shapes of the windows onto the floor. Looking out of the windows on the west wall, the bookshelves wrapped around into three stacks, with a carpeted area and a lectern in the middle of them.

"Wilder?" October's voice was tiny in the huge room. "Look out!" Wilder was pushed to the floor, and he saw a flash of black shadow rushing towards him. He watched in shock as a psychonaut ran through October, who immediately doubled over in pain. "James! How do we fight these things?"

James poked his head around the stack of books, unaware of the danger in the room.

"Stay down!" he said, rushing to October. "Like I said earlier, the cross keeps them away."

October glared at him. "I'm not wearing a fucking cross."

"And I can't shoot them at all," Wilder said. "You don't have anymore crosses to give out; I wish there was a way."

James drew a deep breath, and moved into a cross legged position on the floor. "I think they are flooding the Great Hall with them. They moved on from physical destruction and are now doing it on a soul level. That's dark. It makes sense though, if I were Abel, I suppose I would understand."

"We can stay in here for awhile," Wilder said. "But eventually we will have to move back underground or into the Ministry."

"Wilder," James sounded panicked. "I need to read all of these books. I have to understand."

"What good will it do," October said, picking at a bloody scab on their naked foot. "You already had your chance to make the big speech. Surprise surprise, it didn't work, so you're out of time, altar boy."

They flicked the scab at James, and stood up, walking to the window to stare at the setting sun.

James shoulder's slumped.

"Do you think it would help if we did a protection prayer?" Wilder asked in a quiet voice. 

James shrugged. "I would love to say yes," he said, gesturing to the books on the floor around them, "but I'm coming to think that nothing I believe is real."

"I'm not staying stuck in here with you dopes," October said, meandering back towards them. "I'm hungry. I'm going to go see if I can find a kitchen or a storeroom or something."

"People don't live in here, October. It's an empty hall."

"Fine, then I'll go back to the whorehouse and have a nap. What do you care. I was going to bring something back, but I don't see the point in all the extra work."

"You know, October," Wilder said, feeling his face burning, "I have no idea why Neptune even likes you. He's head over heels, and all you can do is be flippant and rude and throw everyone under the bus. And why? You're probably miserable. I see you try and flirt with other people, and god only knows what they see in you, but you're only doing it to get a rise out of Neptune. And it's not fair to him. I don't care if you never even see him again. That kid deserves better. His heart may be misguided, but he really, really fucking cares for you. If nothing else, can you try and see something in you, something like he sees?"

Wilder took the second gun from his chest strap. "I'm probably going to regret this," he said, "if you're going back, take this. The Machine is guarded right now, if you were going to die again, you wouldn't be able to get back down here. Defend yourself, please. Do something right in your life."

October glowered at him, stuttered for words, and a hot angry tear ran down their face. They snatched the gun from Wilder, and struggled to yank it from the holster.