The Apocalypse Script (34 page)

The other man smiled darkly. “No.
Fiela is to be mine. She is my reward.”

Nizrok understood that to mean
that Fiela would be offered the choice of marrying Moros or being
brutalized. Surely the man didn’t think it would be so easy,
though? The girl would die before allowing either to
happen.

As off-handedly as possible, he
said, “It goes without saying that we shall
both
be present for the surrender of
Lilitu.”

Looking offended, Moros spread his arms wide and
said, “My friend, we shall share that glory. In fact, you are to
escort dignitaries of the other Houses to Steepleguard so that each
of the seven kingdoms may share in the victory that marks the end
of this epoch.”

“
And the start of the next,” added
Nizrok.

“
Of course,” said Moros, studying
the back of his hand. “That, too.”

“
Is everything in order?” asked
Fiela, wiping her mouth with a napkin and looking at the script Ben
held in his hand. As usual, she had placed her chair only inches
from his, but today both of her feet were propped up on a stool
with an ice bag applied to the soles.

“
I wouldn’t call
it
order,
”
replied Ben. Ridley had brought
him the script the evening prior and the researcher had made a
point of reading every entry and comparing it to the latest news on
the internet.

Last night there had been no
matches, though a few news articles suggested that events would
unfold as the script required. This morning, reviewing the dozen or
so newspapers that Mr. Fetch had brought him, in addition to
articles on the internet, Ben found over a third of the events
prescribed by the script had happened while he slept.

He reviewed the list of matches he had scribbled on
a piece of paper:

United States and China exchange
harsh words. U.S. Congress votes to prohibit all imports from China
until South China Sea conflict resolved. China promises ‘grave
repercussions’ to American interests in Asia and has stated that
exports to the U.S. and its allies are suspended indefinitely.
Russia cuts off oil shipments to Europe to protest ‘foreign
intervention’ in latest Baltic row. Venezuelan economy crashes
after world currencies falter. Anarchists take credit for explosion
at Center for Disease Control in Atlanta.

“
More
like
disorder,
”
he said moodily. Dropping the
script to the table, he turned. “Are you feeling
better?”

“
Yes, Mutu. I am sorry to have
bothered you last night.”

“
Bothered me? Fiela, I’d have been
upset if you hadn’t sent for me. What did you say you dropped on
your feet?”

“
A barbell. I was exercising. It
just slipped out of my hand.” She pantomimed dropping the weight
with her open palm.

“
That’s why you should wear shoes.
You’re lucky you didn’t break any toes. Why don’t you put the ice
bag on top of your feet?”

“
It’s too cold there.”

“
Huh,” said Ben, bending over to
inspect her injuries. “You’re not even bruised. It must be those
super genes of yours.”

“
Must be.” Wanting to change the
subject, she said, “Lilian told me she found you asleep in your
study last night.”

“
Yeah, I was more tired that I
realized.”

“
She said you were
moaning.”

Ben nodded. “I had a dream. I
don’t remember much.” He looked at her. “I think you were in it,
though.”

“
Really?” asked Fiela excitedly.
“What were we doing?”

Ben noted that she didn’t say,
“
What was
I
doing?
”
She immediately assumed they were
both
in the dream. He tried to
remember and came up only with an image of Fiela walking across a
bridge of some kind. Her hands were covered in blood. He had a
feeling she was looking for him but he was behind her, and when he
called out to her she couldn’t hear him. He thought maybe Ridley
was there, too, and another man, whom he didn’t know, but who
seemed to know him. It was one of those dreams that wasn’t a
nightmare but that had a very negative vibe to it.

He said, “You and I were having a
picnic in the park. Ants were on the food.”

The girl seemed mildly
disappointed. “That’s nice. You were probably thinking of our trip
the other day.”

“
Probably.” Yawning, the unshaven
man pushed a half-eaten plate of burnt scrambled eggs away just as
a flash of lightning shot in from the dining room window, making
him wince. It was gloomy outside and rain was slapping the window
in ham-fisted waves. A storm had moved in and was forecast to
remain in the area for the rest of the day and most of the
evening.

The girl put her head on his
shoulder and picked up the script, turning to the Cuneiform
version. She read for a moment before saying, “Uncle told me you
were good with languages. Are you trying to learn Agati? I wish you
would. I know my English sounds funny.”

Ben laughed. “Your English is
perfect, Serretu. Far better than most native speakers. That’s what
gives away the fact that you’re not a native speaker,
actually.”

“
I read a lot,” the girl
explained, “but some of the writing is outdated. Poems from a
hundred or two hundred years ago. The structure is different, and
the words. I didn’t complete my courses because of the
war.”

Looking out the window at the purple and black
clouds, Ben reviewed his discussion with Ridley the night before.
“Perhaps you would read them aloud sometime.”

“
Read what aloud?”

“
The poems.”

“
I do.”

“
No,” he said, “to me.”

Fiela pulled back.
“Really?”

“
Why not? If you’re so fond of
them maybe I’ll like them, too.” He didn’t actually think so, but
it seemed wrong that Fiela should be so taken by her poems and have
no one with whom to share her interest.

The Peth was suspicious of her
good fortune. “Truly, Mutu, you would
want
that?”

“
Well,” he replied, pretending to
lose interest, “not if it would inconvenience you.”

“
It wouldn’t,” she replied
promptly.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Then
why not?”

“
I shall, then. We shall go to the
Great Hall each evening and I shall sit in your lap and read to you
until you can take no more.”

Ben scratched at his stubble,
wondering at the wisdom of his decision. “Hmmm.”

A few seconds later, Fiela said, “Mutu, do you not
find me attractive?”

Ben squinted at her. “Fiela, you
can’t be serious.”

“
But you do, right?”

“
Without question.”

“
Then why have we
not...”

Embarrassed, the man said, “Well, it’s only been two
nights, Fiela.”

“
Three
nights we have lain together,
and what is wrong with the day, also? Why must my sister have a
monopoly on your affections?

“
Serretu, she doesn’t, trust
me.”

The Peth studied the tablecloth
and said, “Is it my scars? Do they repulse you?”

“
Of course not. You’re a beautiful
young woman, Fiela.” He took a sip of his coffee and tried to
change the subject. “You had nightmares last night, didn’t
you?”

“
Yeah,” the girl admitted. She was
embarrassed at how she had clung to him in the early hours of the
morning, her body covered in a cold sweat. The terrors had been
particularly vicious, sensing she was weak from Lilian’s
application of the rod.

Ben said, “You’re sleeping next to me again
tonight.”

“
Lilian will not permit
it.”

“
Yeah, well, apparently I’m the
king and all that, so, you’re sleeping next to me. She’ll be
fine.”

In fact, he wasn’t sure Lilian was
fine, even now. The woman had seemed unusually unhinged last night
when she had come to his study to tell him of Fiela’s accident. She
seemed distracted and confused, her eyes darting about the room as
if there might be a predator hiding among the bookshelves. Then at
two in the morning he’d awoken to the sound of a piano being played
across the hall in the Queen’s Suite, a former VIP room that Lilian
had transformed into a private “girl cave.” He knew the song -
Jelly Roll Morton’s
The Finger
Breaker.
Lilian had pounded the keys at an
angry, inhuman speed.

When she returned to their bedroom she had reeked of
bourbon.

Fiela said, “You will not tell her I asked for
this?”

“
You didn’t, it’s my
decision.”

“
Thank you, Mutu.”

“
And
now
you’re making me self-conscious…” he said, picking up a
newspaper.

She kissed him on the shoulder and
he readied himself for some additional pleas that they consummate
the marriage, but Fiela simply gazed at him. There was something
about her expression that gave him pause. It was an expression
of…what?

Love, he thought. A foolish and
unrequited love. And resignation. He wanted to tell her it was his
growing feelings for her that made it impossible to do what she
asked. With Lilian it was all business. She needed her throne; he
needed the tablets and the money she offered him. The sex was just
part of the deal they had arranged to give each other what the
other wanted. No harm, no foul.

Fiela was not Lilian. The notion
that he should start a sexual relationship with her merely to check
one of Lilian’s boxes was abhorrent to him. Yet he was, he
realized, breaking the girl’s heart.

So that’s when he did it. Without
even thinking and without warning he grabbed her and gently pulled
her down into his arms.

Fiela let herself fall into Ben’s
arms and shuddered when she saw his eyes, which for a millionth of
a second were as brilliant as stars. Before she could question what
she saw, he lowered his lips to hers.

The kiss took her breath away.
This, she realized instantly, was what a
real
kiss must feel like. Born of
love and not lust. A three-dimensional kiss in a two-dimensional
world. A kiss that was not a prelude but was instead its own
celebration. A kiss that was better than even killing.

If a kiss was like this, what
might sex be like?

She dropped the tablet and reached up, putting her
arms around the man’s neck to join the dance he had started, to
kiss him as he kissed her.

Then she felt it.

The change.

Not now! Oh gods, please not
now!

Her body ignored her pleas. She
could feel her muscles constricting and her mouth going dry and the
pain that always signaled the change. She could feel the taste of
blood in her mouth and knew what that meant.

Panicked, she recoiled and went stiff in the man’s
arms.

Misunderstanding her reaction, Ben
lifted his head. “Sorry,” he said, returning her upright to her
chair. “I got a little…” He ran a hand over his face. “Ah…what am I
doing…?”

“
I’m sorry, Mutu!” she said,
swallowing the blood that had pooled in her throat. She could see
the pain and humiliation in the man’s face.

He seemed not to hear her. “Don’t
be. You don’t have to please me, Fiela. I know that’s what you’ve
been taught, but it’s not true. It’s just Nisirtu propaganda. I’d
convinced myself that you…” He grunted, disgusted. “Never mind.
Lately I’ve convinced myself of a lot of things I should be
questioning.”

“
But I want to!” she protested,
reaching for him.

Ben stood hastily and put his
hands on her shoulders. “No, you don’t. Not really. I took
advantage of you. I’m sorry, Fiela.” Ashamed, he turned his head
left and right as if he suddenly wasn’t sure where he was. “I need
to find your uncle,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’ll talk
later, okay?”

Fiela shook her head as the tears
came but he wouldn’t look at her.

She reached for him again, but he
was already gone.

At mid-morning a new caravan of
cars, trucks, and vans began rolling into the Steepleguard parking
lot. They brought with them dozens of room attendants, cooks,
florists, and others needed to prepare the Great Hall for the
reception and to tend to the wants and needs of the guests. The old
hotel’s courtyard was a beehive of activity as men and women in a
variety of uniforms hustled in and out of the main building
carrying crates of food, wine, chairs, bed linens, towels,
tablecloths, candles, and hundreds of other items, large and
small.

Lilian, dressed in jeans and a
turquoise sweater, her hair in a ponytail, made her way through the
swarm anonymously. She navigated toward a trail that started at a
far corner of the estate and zigzagged up a forested hill, hidden
from those below. She had walked this trail often as a girl,
brooding over her future and concocting outlandish plans to gain
her father’s stolen throne. None had been as outlandish as the one
she had settled on as an adult, however.