Wickerman Cove

Part 40: The Lion's Den

Rightly, Mak wasn't okay with stopping in the middle of a long corridor with no cover or turns. Most of what Steph had assumed were corridors were shallow storage spaces, empty of whatever they'd held when the factory had been in operation. The only cover was at the end of the corridor, where it turned to the right, past the magical cell, but that meant passing the entrance to the factory floor, where Mansfield and the Guide were starting to get somewhere in the ritual.

So, they moved. Mak took point, and Renard trailed behind, as Penny and Steph signed rapidly between themselves.

You should be able to use the voice, Penny said, but I don't have time to teach you. You can move through space the way we do, you can even do things I can't – nobody I know has ever stood in two places at once.

Okay, Steph said, painfully conscious that she was signing with both hands. Mak's knock-off AR-15 and the bullpup bouncing on her back as she walked, their slings threatening constantly to tangle. So, what does it mean? Why do they want you? Or me?

The statue is a key. They should have been able to come through here already – I've rarely seen a place where the wall between worlds is weaker, Penny signed. With the key, there's no question. If they didn't have the statue, it's possible the ritual could use the way we move and open the gate anyway.

They were almost at the door. After that, there would be the catwalk, spanning the width of the factory floor, and a single, agonisingly long flight of stairs that wound down to ground level. Mansfield's voice echoed from below, her low, three-packs-a-day growl pronouncing phrases in Latin, Sumerian and languages that Steph had never heard spoken. The remaining cultists parroted her when they could and fell silent when they couldn't, leaving deafening silence where the ritual had obviously been meant for a call and response.

It didn't matter as much as Steph would have expected. The power from what they were doing was strong enough to have a taste – tin and rotten meat. It clung to her skin like rancid beef juices.

What if they have both? Steph asked, signing.

Penny shook her head slowly. It wouldn't be a gate. The membrane between this universe and theirs would simply cease to exist. Space would fill with countless monsters. Suns would be instantly devoured. Life on this planet would survive, at best, for minutes, then the Envious would have crushed and devoured everything that wasn't themselves.

And the Guide would win either way – if they came in all at once, they'd be hungry soon, and they'd send him to find another world to eat. If they trickled in through the gate, the waiting trillions would just scream for another opening, either on this world or somewhere else.

"I can't help admiring someone who successfully makes themselves indispensable," Steph said, making eye contact with Penny, then Mak. "Are we good to go?"

Mak eyed her suspiciously. "A less charitable man would be worried about the tone of the conversation you just had, but otherwise, yes. If whatever you just discussed becomes important, and I survive, I want you to know that you'd better hope you don't."

"Okay," Steph said, her voice so low she couldn't hear it over the thundering of the Envious' heartbeats. "They can use Penny or me to break the border between worlds wide open. Like, there won't be a difference between our world and theirs anymore, and everyone in this universe will die."

"Then you shouldn't be here," Mak said, unhesitating.

"I agree," Steph said, checking her pistol and then stowing it in her jacket pocket again. "Do you have another option that doesn't involve setting off a nuke?"