He was right. The darkness came, and silence. The last thing I heard was the machine on the desk starting up, and the pulse moving through the hose, my neck, my blood, into my heart and dreams.
I woke up to a taste, and nothing more. It was like tarnished brass filling my mouth, only I had no sense of mouth or tongue. Just a taste, hanging in emptiness.
There was nothing of my body, no feeling of pain, no sense of place or orientation. I could see nothing. Not blackness, as though I had closed my eyes or stood in a perfectly sealed room, but absolutely nothing. The idea of sight was distant, something remembered but unfamiliar.
“There, Jacob, you see? This isn’t as bad, is it? Not at first, anyway.” The voice of Sloane arrived without direction or weight. Just words I knew I was hearing, somewhere.
“Now, before we begin, there’s something I need to show you, Jacob. Pay very close attention to this. Are you ready?”
What followed was nothing like pain. Pain has limits, it has durations and intensities. It leaves scars and teaches lessons. What followed was suffering, pure and simple. It was loneliness and loss, the obsessions of spurned love and the emptiness of lifetimes spent in isolation. It was being alone forever, again and again. It stopped, leaving nothing but the taste of brass.
“There. Do you understand now, Jacob? Emily seems quite concerned. You put on quite a show. Let her know you’re okay, son. Just say yes, Jacob. Tell her you’re alright.”
Speaking without a voice is strange. I fixed it, like some talent I didn’t know I had.
“Ye-”
He hit it again. Five more times before he asked another question. I learned to scream too.
“Do you understand now?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said weakly. Could Emily really hear me, or was my body lying nerveless on the couch?
“Very good. We will start simply. Who on the Council is funding you, and what dealing have they had with the Church?”
“I…” I wasn’t sure what to say. “No one is funding me.”
It started slower, just a background tearing of emotion, an undercurrent of wasted life and depression.
“Someone must be standing with you. Emily is here. Should I evacuate her, see who she’s willing to name?”
“There’s no one, Sloane. Everyone seems to be trying to kill me or capture me. I’m running from everyone.”
The tearing continued for a while, pulsing through me like a thorned rope, then it receded.
“We’ll let that stand for now. How did you get in touch with Marcus?”
“Again, I didn’t. I was downfalls on other business. I saw him on the return trip.”
“You just happened to be aboard that specific ship, on that specific day.”
“Yes.”
Suffering, for a while.
“We know Marcus was in conversation with the city. He told someone his plans, which ship he’d be taking, and when. That he was being pursued. They promised him safety, pledged it, once he got to the city.”
“He didn’t make it.”
“No. Because you were sent to gather him up. And things got out of hand.”
“I wasn’t even supposed to be on that flight, Sloane. I got delayed on my job. It was just chance.”
The next jolt lasted longer, if eternity can last longer. I had a brief, shocking feeling of my body, drifting farther away from my floating consciousness.
“Stay with me here, Jacob. I don’t believe you. This can go on for a long time. It can go on forever. All I need is your body, remember. You don’t need to be in it.”
“Go to hell,” I whispered.
“Of course. But first, I need to understand. You say that you just happened to be on the Glory. Of the thousands of people in the city, the hundreds of thugs who could have been on Valentine’s business, by pure chance, it just happened to be you that he sent.”
“Pure chance,” I repeated.
“Wrong.” Jolt. “Wrong, Jacob.” Shattering jolt, my soul falling apart, my body leaving. “I don’t believe in chance. Not in these matters.” Jolt, less memory and more severing of my body. I was leaving, I could tell, leaving the world for an eternity of brass and suffering. “You will tell me, Jacob, and you will…”
The pain ended. The taste left my mouth, and time passed in darkness. I have no idea how long it was. When I woke up the street outside was bright, sunlight pouring in around the shutters of the front window. Sloane was sitting at the desk, thumbing through a sheaf of papers.
“Ah, good.” He looked up at me, nodded. “Sorry about the delay, Mr. Burn. There has been, well. A development. An interruption to our little discussion. Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.” I spat and looked around. Emily was gone.
“Yes, your friend has been moved.”
“Where is she?”
“Elsewhere. Not here. That’s all I think you need to know. You’ll be moving soon as well.”
I struggled to sit up. He hit me again, and the jagged line of pain in my cheek put me on my ass. As I fell, a loop of belt fell off my shoulder. My arms loosened. I curled up on the couch to cover it.
He stood up and came over, peering at me curiously. “What happened to her, by the way? That surgery for her wound, it was very… intuitive. Primitive, but still elegantly done. You didn’t do that, obviously.”
“Fuck off.”
“This again. You should try harder to offend me, Jacob. It would at least make our conversations more interesting.”
I pulled myself up, best I could. The belts loosened just a little more. It was going to be okay, I thought. It’s going to work out.
“You aren’t worth the effort, Sloane.”
“Ah, well. You tried at least.” He pulled up my chin to look at my eyes. “Yes, I suppose that’s the most I can expect of a child like-”
I swung my arm up and grabbed his wrist. His bones felt like stone.
“Ah, yes,” he said anxiously. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I punched my elbow at his waist, but he pulled back. I stood. He took my arm in both hands and threw me against the wall. It was a well-built house, and I crumpled to the floor.
“This is much better, I suppose. At a different level. Still. Invigorating.”
I struggled out of the bonds, letting them slip over my legs. I wasn’t quite free when he got to me. His fists were steel, and precise. I yelped.
“Okay. I can’t let this go much longer.” He was barely breathing heavily. “Perhaps another few rounds, and then-”
I kicked both heels into his knee. He went down, his face carefully disappointed. I rolled over him and crawled towards the desk. He came at me from behind, cracking my head with both fists. My nose jammed into the floor. I breathed in blood.
“Gods… fuck.” Sloane struggled up, leaning against the desk chair. “You’re making this difficult, Jacob.”
“Fuck off,” I hissed, then slapped the desk over. The papers scattered, but the pistol rolled next to my hand. I took it up in both hands and fired two quick shots through the room. Sloane stopped talking and jumped. I rolled behind the couch.
“This isn’t going to go well for you, Jacob. We have the girl. If you don’t come out, right damn now, we’re going to ruin her.”
I stood and crossed the room. He stood.
“Good call, Jacob. Hand over the pistol.”
I knuckled the revolver and punched him with the chamber tight in my palm. His lip split, and he went down.
“Where is she?”
“Elsewhere, Jacob.” He smiled through bloody teeth. “Elsewhere.”
“I don’t give warnings, Sloane. Where is she?”
He shrugged. The Badge broke in the door. The wood splintered, and I stepped back. Sloane punched me on the inner thigh and I staggered all the way to the couch. Sloane ducked out. I fired another shot, catching him in the shoulder. He lurched into the street, yelling. The Badge looked back at their boss, just long enough for me to put holes in them.
I went to the door. The cold iron carriage was there, the one I had seen earlier at Emily’s apartment. Marcus’s carriage, I realized. I looked back at his crumpled form. The Badge was forming up outside. There had to be a back door.
As I left the room, I paused by Marcus’ metal form. I thought of the timeless suffering, the taste of brass and the tearing of my soul. There was a valve, sealed shut. I got a length of pipe out of the kitchen and tore it off. He rushed out like an exhausted wave on the beach, his spirit washing through the room in horror and relief. When he was gone, I took another shot out the open door, scattering the Badge, then went upstairs. There was a back balcony off the child’s room. I jumped to the next roof and ran.