“Zoras, my Guardian. My Holy One, we are so close to completing our goals. We must see this through. A transition at this crucial moment would be disastrous.”
I am still close to achieving my goals. Your part of the journey has ended… You rarely heeded my wisdom, believing yourself an equal. It was tolerated as long as you saw success. However, the longer you walk along the edge, the higher the odds of your inevitable fall. I had warned you years ago to be careful of your place among the Genjix, Enzo. There is only one penalty for extreme failure on the Council.
“But Zoras…” Enzo found himself at a loss for words as his destiny – so assured a few days ago – was taken from under him. He felt true fear for the first time in his life – fear of failure, fear of unfulfilled fates, fear of this new reality. Mostly, he felt this new fear of dying. Throughout his life, he had thought himself not only special, but a prophet. Now, he knew the truth, and it killed him more than any physical death could.
As if given a hidden signal, Palos – the vessel with the unwavering loyalty, who had watched over him since the very first day Enzo had become a vessel – approached and fell to one knee next to Weston. He held up a tray in his hands. On it was a glass of water, a cyanide pill, and a serrated knife.
“Praise to the Holy Ones,” those in the room chanted.
“Praise to…” Enzo began the prayer reflexively, but couldn’t quite get himself to finish it.
The Edmonton Long-Term Veterinary Care Center was one of the nicest animal hospitals in all of Canada, except that it had only cared for four animals in its seventy-year history; three dogs and a cow that happened to have been hosts. It was also one of two remaining long-term medical facilities for the Prophus in North America, Canada being relatively ambivalent in their policies toward the Quasing, and Arizona being relatively ambivalent toward the policies of their government.
The cover for the hospital, a large unadorned brown building an hour north of Edmonton, was perfect for the constant stream of medical supplies that were drop-shipped in. The hospital’s supplies were being strained this week, as over sixty injured Prophus agents now called the center their home, at least for the next few weeks, if not months.
Cameron Tan stared out the window while a nurse re-sewed a cut on his brow, courtesy of the beating that Jacob Diamont had given him. Twice now. He had gotten the cut during their first fight, and it seemed Jacob found joy in repeatedly bashing him in the same spot over and over again in their second. Maybe he was just an eyebrow hunter.
That is what I would do if I were Jacob.
“You’re very brave to hold so still,” said the nurse, an elderly woman. Cameron had never heard an accent like hers before and wondered which part of the world the Prophus had recruited her from. As for being brave, it was more because of the local anesthesia. He couldn’t feel the top part of his face right now. She could be tattooing it for all he knew.
He had had another nightmare last night and had split the cut open when he woke up flailing and fell out of bed. This was the third consecutive night he had had dreams about the attack on the Genjix base four days ago. The first night, he was too exhausted to dream. Now, while he waited for the nurse to finish her work, his mind wandered back to the terrible events that had happened there.
So many people he knew were now gone, people he had grown up with. Uncle Dylan and Faust were almost family. No, they were family. Uncle Faust was Dad’s best friend and Cameron saw him every holiday. Uncle Dylan was an important man, but he was also Cameron’s godfather. Then there were all of Mom’s people at the farmhouse. They were his babysitters, friends, and playmates. Everything that he had known, his entire life over the past few years was gone. Almost everyone he cared about was dead, and it hurt.
It is not an easy life. This war will claim many loved ones. I have lost more people I care about than I can count, hosts and Quasing alike.
Cameron’s thoughts moved from the friends he had lost to the people he still had. Thank God Mom and Dad were still alive, though Dad was now more mummy than human. Both his arms were in monster casts with fiberglass going all the way past his shoulders. He wore a neck brace, had his chest wrapped in plaster, and one leg wrapped past his knee. The nurses in the hospital doted on him and called him the Golem. Dad loved the attention.
Uncle Marco was scheduled for another surgery tomorrow. This would be his third in five days. They were still hoping to save his leg, and he would have a terrible scar along his chest. Needless to say, he was probably retiring from active duty after this. Cameron had tried to see him a few times, but all he did was sleep. Medically-induced coma they said, and Ahngr, his Quasing, was ordered not to take control for fear of further injury to his frail body.
Rin, the scientist, was recovering alongside a handful of other civilians caught during the Genjix evacuation when Jill’s team was able to cut off their escape route. She had suffered a broken leg and was now recovering in the same hospital down the hallway from Dad.
That left Alex. Just the mention of her name made his chest contract just a little. Of course he wasn’t going to see her at the base. In fact, he had forgotten all about her while he had been fighting there. Like they would send a fourteen year-old girl to fight anyhow. Well, Cameron had gone, but it was against the wishes of his parents.
He was being foolish; he knew that. It was stupid of him to have let her influence his going to the haven. What was he going to do, confront her? Ask her why she would stab him in the back like that? Ask if their time together – that one whole week – was even real, or just one big lie? Would he have just shot her or something? It was all just very immature of him; Cameron knew it and felt ashamed for being so selfish. Good people had died, and all he could think about was the girl.
No, Cameron. There is no shame. You were betrayed and have a right to be hurt. You know better now. Learn from it. Alex is the enemy. If you ever see her again, do not make the same mistake.
“I’m just so stupid, Tao.”
It is an unfair burden to place on you. You are still young. Maybe it will be best if we pull you out of this for a while longer. You were robbed of a childhood. Perhaps we can give you some peace in your teenage years. Perhaps relocate you to Switzerland or England to finish school. Perhaps even go to college.
It was enticing, that thought of a normal life. Cameron almost agreed on the spot. The war should still be here when he was ready. He could just join and help the Prophus later, right? However, that would leave his parents and remaining loved ones fighting while he was gallivanting in safety. Could he live with himself? He knew the answer to that.
“There you go, dear,” the nurse said. “The glue should hold better this time. Try not to split it again.”
Cameron stood up and stared into the mirror at his bandaged head. Nurse Sheung at school would never believe he fell off a tree looking like this. He looked like, well, like he had just come out of a pitched battle. He thanked the nurse and headed to his father’s room. They had placed him in a private room on one of the top floors, since he was pegged for long-term care. He found Roen awake and seemingly in a cheerful mood. Mom was sitting next to his bed, and they were laughing and holding hands. Both of them brightened even more when he walked in.
“The prodigal hero returns.” Roen lifted a club arm and waved. “Ow.”