Gravity Rises (S3)

PP: Part Fourteen

It was a very good thing that Pacifica wasn't driving the snowmobile. She felt like she could barely stay on the machine as it was. She gripped the dagger in one hand; her other arm was wrapped around the servant who drove the snowmobile. She held tightly to him, her face buried in the back of his shoulder, trying not to listen to the oppressive sound around her.

But it was hard to ignore Mabel's screams.

The spirit was pulling out all the stops. Screaming — screaming terrible things, terrible degrading things that wormed their way into Pacifica's mind and lodged there like leeches. Mabel's attacks sent shivers down Pacifica's spine and across her arms, made her fingers tremble, made her hands clammy and slick on the dagger even through her gloves. Pacifica pressed herself against the servant, hoping to cushion the dagger between them if her traitorous hands let go. She could not lose the dagger. Not now. Not before she got to Mabel.

The forest rushed by in a dizzying blur; the snowmobiles were moving at full throttle. The speed, mixed with the screaming, mixed with the shivers, made Pacifica feel sick. She squeezed her eyes shut.

If any other supernatural creatures came to stop them, Pacifica didn't see it. The snowmobiles never stopped. There was some turbulence — running over rocks, maybe, or the occasional gnome; Pacifica didn't know. She only had ears for Mabel. Only had thoughts for the mental anguish that the spirit was putting her through. It was what happened most nights — except now it was during the day, under the sun, while Pacifica leaned against the snowmobile driver and tried not to fall off the machine from the pain.

She thought she saw flashes of light through her tightly closed eyelids. Flashes of magic? Attacks from supernatural creatures? Mabel, creating some kind of horrific display for Pacifica alone to see? She didn't know. She didn't want to know.

They were moving fast. They'd get to the Museum soon. But not soon enough.

"You'll never succeed!" Mabel insisted. "You'll only hurt yourself by trying to get to me! And while I certainly wouldn't mind seeing you get hurt, I'd rather do the hurting myself." Her words were shrill and amplified; the volume hurt. Pacifica wanted desperately to cover her ears, but she didn't have any spare hands. Besides, covering her ears never worked. Mabel's screams came from inside Pacifica's head as much as from outside.

I can't do this, Pacifica found herself thinking. I have to do this — I need to stop her — but — I can't—

Mabel seized on those thoughts. "Of course you can't do this. You never could do anything to me. I'm protected, Pacifica. I have my family and friends around me to protect me. Who do you have?"

No one. Pacifica had no one.

No! Another thought forced its way into Pacifica's mind. No, I'm not alone! I have the Northwest servants. I have Bill!

Mabel would have none of that. "Oh yeah? And where's your precious Bill now?"

Where was Bill? Pacifica's thoughts — what little coherent thought she had left — started calling out to Bill for relief. Please, Bill. Please, Lord Cipher. I can't do this on my own. I need you!

A warm glow shone on Pacifica's eyelids. Was that Bill? Was he here? Mabel's screams were forced back by another voice: a calm, confident voice. "I'm here," Bill said.

Pacifica didn't open her eyes, didn't say anything, but relief swept through her.

"Caleb is on his way to Yingtai now," Bill told her. "You're down to four snowmobiles and four servants. And the minotaurs and other creatures are gathering at the Museum. They're probably using the hamadryads to travel through the trees."