CONTAINS CONTENT:
[Possible topics and subjects that may “trigger” people]
When Marielle was awakened by a heavy-handed knock on the door, she briefly panicked because she didn’t recognize the room. Then she laughed at herself because the knock hadn’t even been on her door.
“Right,” she said with a yawn and a glance around the room that she currently occupied. “I’m at Valorant.” Then she remembered the day before, and how Austin was in the room adjacent to hers. He had still been singing as she had fallen asleep, but quietly.
She heard Austin say through the door, “Yeah… I get it. I’ll get on it.” Someone replied, but Marielle couldn’t make out what they were saying. It sounded like Barbara. She was starting to hate that woman. She expected her own knock at any moment.
As she brushed her teeth, she felt her heart speed up a little as the intentions for the day came flooding back to her. She hadn’t been able to talk to Vincent in almost twenty-four hours at this point. Maybe it was the way they had parted or how wounded he might be because of what Valorant had done to him yesterday, but she was terrified to see him or even speak with him.
And yet, she wanted it. She craved it with a deep desire and need that she couldn’t comprehend. Was Austin right? Was she in love with Vincent?
Sighing, she put her hands on the sides of the sink, leaning over it as she spat her toothpaste out. Then she looked herself dead in the eye. “Now, you listen to me… He’s just a man.”
Is he? her inner voice seemed to ask.
“He’s a man,” she assured herself, “and I can’t go ape over him until I know more.”
She growled when she remembered that Felix was at home, wondering where his breakfast was… last night’s dinner, too. Luckily, she’d left him fresh water. She would feed him in a few hours, and he should have had enough dry food to last him through yesterday, but he’d be cranky from hunger.
Marielle’s ears perked up again when she heard Austin say, “I’ll work it out, okay? Just… cool it.” She didn’t like the tone of his voice. She’d never heard it like that before. She tugged on a standard gray Valorant sweatshirt. All of the rooms were equipped with basic clothing for men and women in three different sizes, as well as a large bathrobe.
No sooner had she put her hair back than a knock came at the door. She opened it, surprised to find Sabine. “They’re ready for you,” she said flatly.
Marielle nodded, noting as she left her room that Austin’s door was closed and Barbara was gone. Marielle knew he had a lineup of patients to see, so he must be getting ready for the day.
“Did you go home last night?” Marielle dared.
“I did,” Sabine replied quietly.
There was a brief pause. “Are we ever going to talk like normal people again?” Marielle dared even further as they stepped into the elevator.
“I don’t see it happening anytime soon,” Sabine replied in a toneless voice. The elevator descended rapidly. Today, Sabine sounded more sad than upset. What had her night been like? Marielle had no idea. She didn’t even know where Sabine had gone after the early morning. She didn’t recall seeing her—but then, Marielle hadn’t seen much of anyone after a certain point.
“Felix is okay,” Marielle eventually tried. The other woman exhaled slowly and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “You can come see him anytime if you ever want to, Sabine.”
There was a long pause as Marielle watched the elevator’s floor counter descend.
“Thank you,” Sabine whispered before the doors opened, and Marielle felt her chest tighten. It was one of the only polite things Sabine had said to her since the accident.
There was another long pause after the doors opened where neither woman moved. “How is he?” Marielle pressed.
“He’s painting.”
“No, Sabine.” Marielle sighed, not wanting to push the topic but needing to know. “I don’t mean Vincent… When was the last time you saw John?”
Sabine’s jaw tightened, and she stepped off the elevator and met with Kiritani in the hall. “Take Ms. Chaenes down to Vincent’s room, please,” she said before turning and getting back on the elevator.
Both Marielle and Kiritani were silent for a moment, looking at one another awkwardly.
“She hasn’t changed,” Kiritani observed.
Marielle sighed again. “She seems to feed on my misery.”
“Never show weakness, ever.”
He escorted her down the hall.
***
Sabine rode back to the third floor. Once the elevator stopped, she paused for a moment before she stepping into the hall which led to the medical ward.
She stalked down to Room Nineteen, where she cleared herself with a keycard and a fingerprint, then went inside.
Kirra was there, running further tests. She acknowledged Sabine, who gave her a small nod in return before continuing through the stark white room full of laboratory equipment and cold storage units. At the back, there was a circular room covered by a light shield, and she stopped near the door to put on a paper face mask before keying in a code on the panel.
The light shield peeled back a little. On the other side was a small bed, and on the bed lay a man. The entire room was a dark-blue hue, with just enough light to see him by, although darkness enveloped every corner. Sabine entered and stood at a distance, observing him. He had been a Black man, once. Now he glowed a blue-violet color that radiated from his skin, his teeth, and most of all from his eyes. Little wisps of dazzling purple smoke and dust rose from his skin, vanishing over and over again in an endless cycle.
Multiple machines connected to his face and chest by wires monitored his condition. One of them made a continuous whirring noise, while another machine beeped at steady intervals. An IV in his arm delivered a substance Kirra had designed to keep him from completely falling apart. At present, he could not live without it for more than a few minutes, nor could he withstand sunlight.
His enormous, lightning-blue eyes turned to her. In a distant, gravelly voice, he asked, “Do you know what it means to be truly afraid?”
She nodded and looked down. “I know, John,” she said wanly, wanting desperately to touch his arm or give him some kind of comfort. He had not had any physical contact for over five years now.
“Sabine, look at the monsters we’ve become. At least you have flesh to hide your horror.” He lifted his arm, and it faded away like falling purple dust. Only when he put it back on the table did the limb rematerialize.
“I’m sorry this is how that ended.” She paused for a moment. “I’m still trying to find a way to help you… and Peter.” Her insides twisted at the mention of her son.
“I don’t know if it’s possible, Sabine. I don’t feel Peter the way I think you imagine I do. He may be truly gone.”
She hung her head. “I know, John.” She went to one of the machines and began running a series of tests on him. “Would you like me to tell you about what’s been going on here, John?” He was the only person she showed any tenderness to at all in her tone. It wasn’t much, but she knew he clung to every bit of it.
He said nothing, but she continued to tend to his machines and talk to him even in his silence.
***
Kiritani unlocked Cellblock Two, and both he and Marielle entered. They went to Vincent’s room, where Kiritani opened the door and stood back, gesturing her in. “Thirty minutes.”
Nodding, she crossed the threshold. Sabine had been right: Vincent had set up a canvas and was painting. The back of the painting was facing her, and she could partially see him seated behind it.
Marielle stepped forward. “Vincent?”
He took in a deep breath and sat straighter, his eyes finally meeting hers. His left index finger lingered on his top lip for a moment in thought, then he took a thin paintbrush and dabbed at something on the canvas with white paint.
She took another step toward him. “You’re painting?”
“It helps me to relax,” he explained, glancing between her and the painting again. “I was trained that if ever I experienced something difficult, to put it into something new. Something productive.” He paused. “Something beautiful. It teaches me to breathe meticulously… calmly. And when I finish, I can tell myself I created something good.” He took a deep breath in and slowly released it, then dabbed at the canvas again. “I also play violin and a little classic piano, although I am much more skilled at the violin.”
She smiled at the confirmation that he played an instrument. “May I see it?” she asked.
His gaze met hers, and he nodded.
Clearing her throat, she came to stand by his left side and looked down. The entire canvas was filled with white clouds, big and puffy like popcorn. Each one was outlined in metallic gold and silver paint. In the center, a feminine figure in a long white tunic was also outlined in silver and gold, far brighter than the clouds. The woman was turned away from the viewer as she ascended a golden stairway, and large, silver wings billowed out from her back, covering her face. The wings bled silver at their tips; the metallic liquid collected near her feet and ran into a big pool of what appeared to be blood, although it was made beautiful by its mirror-like quality.
Marielle almost drew back in amazement. Vincent pushed his glasses up, tilted his head back a little, and carefully picked at the very tip of one of the woman’s gorgeous wings.
“I can’t give her a face,” he explained, flicking his eyes to Marielle, then back. “But this is how beautiful she was.”
“Is this your wife?” Marielle ventured, although she already knew the answer.
“Oui,” he said with a soft, sad smile. He dipped a brush in water, swirled it, cleaned it with a paper towel, and continued.
Marielle simply stared at the painting for several moments.Then she sat on his bed and watched him work, adding minute details here and there that gave the painting life. It actually seemed to illuminate the room, although she knew this was an effect created by the colors and shading he’d chosen.
“Vincent?” she asked. There was a pause as he straightened again. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Marielle,” he replied quickly. Then his demeanor shifted to pleasant. “I have a friend here… you.”
She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “What happened yesterday? Who were those people, and why did they try to take me? You said something about… about somewhere else?”
He swallowed. “Marielle,” he said, and this was the most serious tone she’d heard from him. “I am from that somewhere else.”
She felt her heart speed up. She knew this, of course, somewhere in the back of her mind. After all, the strangers had known him.
He picked at the painting with the end of his finger for a moment. “The people who tried to take you, they are doubles of everyone here. They are from another dimension, and they’ve found a way over here. That’s why I’m here…” He paused as he outlined another lovely feather in silver as bright as his tattoos. “To help.”
Marielle put her face into her hands for a moment. Something about what he was saying felt wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. She ran her hands over her hair and looked back at him. “Okay, wait…” Her mind felt like liquid metal, icy and thick, threatening to come dribbling out of her ears.
He put the paintbrush and paints aside and came to her, sitting beside her and gently lifting her chin so that she was looking at him. “I’m here to help,” he repeated.
Her eyes were full of tears, but she refused to cry. “I don’t understand,” she said, meeting his intense gaze. “If you’re from there, and they’re bad, why would you help us?”
“Because I don’t want them to succeed.” He licked his lips, then continued, “Their ultimate goal is to destroy everyone on this side.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re dying. Their world has too much radianite. Everyone was so excited twenty years ago after First Light, but…” He fought for the right words. “It’s slowly killing them all, and now? It can’t be destroyed. They’ve been trying to get to another dimension for years. They almost succeeded over five years ago… here.” He pointed down.
“You mean at Valorant in this world?”
He nodded. “Oui.”
Marielle’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what he was saying. “The accident,” she whispered. “Morgan, John, and Peter.”
Vincent nodded slowly as if he understood. “The others are strong, yes. But in less than ten years, they will begin to deteriorate in different ways. Eventually, life will cease. Their goal is to take over this world by bridging the gap between our dimensions and killing everyone here so they can live on.”
He put his gloved hands to her face, cupping it, and tenderly thumbed her tears away. His brown eyes deepened with compassion for her. She knew he sensed her internal distress and the questions running through her head. He pulled her into his chest, letting her cheek rest against his heart. Its rhythm was strong, steady… alive. “I needed to get here, to talk to someone who would know how to read me. You’re a profiler in my world, too. I knew you’d be able to tell if I was lying. I knew you’d trust me. You were my way in.”
He stood, his eyes roaming over the painting for a moment. “And now we have to tell everyone else, because they’re coming back, and this time, they will bring someone with them who is far worse than most in this building.”
“Who?” she asked.
He sat back down momentarily. “His name is Cory O’Fallon, although his agent name is Nightwatch. You’ve never heard of him; he doesn’t exist here. He and his younger sister, Finola, are from Ireland.” He swallowed hard, and she saw fear in his eyes for the first time. No, it was stronger than that—it was terror. “He is a nightmare.”
He drew a ragged breath and once again pulled her to him in an embrace. “Oh, Marielle.” The sound of him saying her name sent pricks up and down her skin, and she felt a wave of emotions she couldn’t process in her shattered mental state. “I’m here to try and stop him, and their horrible goal.”
She suddenly felt so tired and overwhelmed that all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. What day was it anyway? Thursday? Friday? She knew these questions were her way of deflecting, so she tried to bring herself back to the moment. “Why did they try to take me?”
“Because they can’t succeed without you,” he explained. His tattoos shone as he turned his head. “You are their key.”
“Me? Why me?”
“I can’t explain right now. There is just too much, but you’re in far more danger than you can understand, Marielle.”
Overcome with fear and a swirl of other emotions she couldn’t identify, she clung to him again, and he put his arms around her, enveloping her. She was so small against him that she disappeared inside his embrace. And she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to…