The Triad of Finity (11 page)

Nearby, Phlox and Sebastian’s coffin popped open as well. Phlox started up, pulling a sleeping mask off her eyes. “Oliver, what is it?”

“Illisius,” Oliver croaked.

“You had a demon dream?” asked Sebastian wearily.

“He—he …” Oliver could barely get the words out.

“Honey, just relax. What time period was the dream?”

Oliver nodded. “It … late eighteen hundreds …”

“Oh,” Phlox sighed, “that’s a relief. That’s still a decent ways off—”

“No, Mom!” Oliver suddenly shouted.

“What is it, son?” asked Sebastian.

“It’s …” Oliver couldn’t believe it, wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard the words that his ancient demon had spoken, but he had. “Illisius is on his way to Arcana.”

Chapter 9

The New Architect

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Illisius goes to Arcana?”

“He’s on his way there on March fourteenth,” said Oliver as they hurried down a warmly lit sewer tunnel. “Emalie said it was the thirteenth in her letter. He’ll be there in two days. And they don’t know he’s coming.”

“Do you think he’s going there for her?” said Dean.

“Yeah. And probably to stop the Orani from learning about the Triad.”

“Dude,” mumbled Dean. “That’s really not good. What are we going to do?”

“Go there,” said Oliver.

They pushed through double doors into the Underground Center. It was a busy Saturday night, the ringed levels bustling with well-dressed vampires. The large waterfall that tumbled through the central space into a deep chasm below was sparkling with holiday lights that hovered in the cascading water.

Oliver and Dean hurried toward the nearest gap in the levels. Dean was wearing a t-shirt again, the mess of skin on his arms causing offended vampires to literally jump away in disgust. It actually made their travels easier.

“Duck,” said Oliver as they passed the food court, and the entrance to L’organo Sanguinante. Oliver spied Phlox standing by the door, a clipboard in hand. He’d told his parents all about the dream and they’d been worried, but their response had been predictable:
There’s nothing we can do
. And there wasn’t, not with Half-Light listening. Phlox had made Oliver promise not to try anything dangerous, but she’d said it like she had known better than to think he’d really keep such a promise. Still, it was best she didn’t see him now, if for no other reason than it would make her responsible for his actions. If she remained at work, clueless, then she couldn’t be blamed.

They were headed down to the Yomi, which was strictly off-limits under Oliver’s probation. As soon as they dropped off the last level of the Underground, his ankle shackle would certainly start sounding.

They reached the first gap. Oliver levitated down as Dean leapt beside him.

“I know you want to do something,” Dean was saying behind him, “but isn’t Chronius just going to say ‘no’ again?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Oliver. “If he does, maybe someone else down there will help us. We have to try.”

“Yeah, I get that,” said Dean, “but … what if that’s exactly what Illisius wants you to do? You know, what if it’s a trap?”

“Whatever.” Oliver couldn’t keep considering every possibility. All it ever led to was them doing nothing. Two years of it. And that just wasn’t an option anymore.

They dropped to the next level.

“Oliver!” Dean called as he landed.

“Just come on, Dean! I’m not arguing about this anym—”

“No, Oliver, wait!”

“Dean—”

“Just LOOK!”

Oliver paused just before dropping to the next level and turned. Dean’s back was to the gap. He was pointing behind them. Now Oliver saw it, too: a crowd of vampires, all gazing at a cheery storefront. Bright white light beamed out from its glass walls. Even before he had read the neon sign, Oliver was struck with worry. He knew the location of that storefront; he’d glanced warily at that very spot every time he’d been in the Underground over the last two years. But each time it had just been dark, the glass dusty. Now, it was open for business.

Désirée
, thought Oliver—

Only then he saw a bright sign in the window:

UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT

He glanced up at the sign above the store:

Dexires’ Drug and Alchemy Emporium

“Dexires?” Dean wondered aloud.

“A new Architect for Earth,” Oliver guessed, “to replace Désirée.”

Oliver was about to move on—he had to stay focused if they were going to get to Emalie in time—when a voice spoke in his head: Oliver. Please come in. We need to speak.

It wasn’t Désirée, but the voice was similar: smooth, calm, and persuasive.

“He wants us to come in,” said Oliver.

“Who?”

Oliver nodded toward the store. “The new guy.” He started toward the door. As far as he could figure, the Architects were on his side. Then again, he’d thought Désirée was on his side …

He pushed through the crowd and reached the front. Everyone stood in a shallow ring looking at the store, yet no one entered. Oliver stepped into the space. It felt like breaking a barrier, and he could feel the eyes falling on him, but he kept moving and pushed through the revolving glass door, Dean behind him.

The store looked like it had an almost blindingly bright white light, orderly aisles of boxes and black bottles, the clean tile on which footsteps made no sound. There was a stuffy silence, a thin string of tinny music drifting through it. Oliver felt a familiar twinge of worry. This place was unsettling, but it maybe seemed somehow less sinister now. The corners and recesses no longer held that dark sense of decay that they had when Désirée was in charge.

Oliver and Dean headed for the back counter. Oliver could already see the Architect standing there, a black-scaled creature with short yellow horns, mug-sized gold coin eyes, ten legs and sixteen arms with eight fingers each. All eight hands were resting on the high counter, all one hundred twenty-eight fingers tapping their pointed nails. It sounded like a rain of pebbles. As Oliver reached the counter, the Architect smiled, revealing enormous, translucent saber teeth.

“Welcome, Oliver, Dean,” said the Architect. “I am Dexires. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Why’d you call me in here?” Oliver asked brusquely. He was determined not to get into some kind of cryptic conversation.

“Yes, I agree,” said Dexires, as if reading his thoughts. His voice was smooth like chocolate. “We should be clear with one another. Unlike my sister, I have no desire to deceive you.”

“Good times,” said Dean.

Dexires continued, “Not really. Oliver, your cohesion has begun. Time has grown short.”

“I noticed,” muttered Oliver.

“Yes, which is why you do not have time to waste visiting Chronius or trying to find a way to Arcana.”

Oliver bristled. “Yeah, well, sorry. That’s where we’re headed. Is that all?”

“Not quite,” said Dexires, his voice growing more serious. “Listen: Chronius will not grant you the time-travel permissions you seek. Not just because he’s a ruthless businessman, but also because he knows, like I do, that going to Arcana is not your best plan to undo your prophecy. Going there would, as your friend here already suggested, merely deliver you to Illisius sooner.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” Oliver asked, his frustration mounting. “Hey, I have an idea. You’re an Architect. Why don’t you and your people just undo the prophecy? You made the universe! Can’t you just flip a switch and turn the prophecy off, or something?”

Dexires seemed to smile. His teeth clicked together. The lights in the mirror behind him glowed brightly. “That would be nice, I suppose, but when we built the universe, we did not give ourselves access to its fundamental operation. We can’t, as you say, turn off a switch, or rewrite the code, or whatever metaphor you prefer.”

“Why not?” asked Dean. “Wouldn’t that have made sense?”

“On the contrary,” said Dexires. “It would have been cheating. The point of the universe is to see what happens, not to control what happens. That’s the art of it.”

“But you say you can’t change things,” said Oliver, “and then you set up these shops and give advice and stuff. How is that different?”

“It’s completely different. Most obviously because you have the choice whether or not to accept our assistance. We have opinions, of course, preferences as to how we’d like things to go, and part of the thrill of the whole construct is to see what we can influence and what we can’t. We are participants in the universe, not operators.”

“You make it sound like the universe is a game,” said Oliver.

“Not exactly a game, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s something of an experiment. For everything we designed so carefully, once we set the universe in motion, it became a creation of its inhabitants and their choices. We participate by making our choices, then you make yours, back to us, and around it goes. Now, can we get down to specifics here?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Here is some of my influence which you, as free beings of the universe, can choose to take or leave. Now, I believe you know about the coming Great Radiance and its importance for you.”

“Yeah,” said Oliver.

“Well, the Radiance presents the path of least resistance for bringing you to Nexia in one piece. It’s not easy to transport matter multi-world. This alignment is a big reason why your prophecy is unfolding now. You could say that hundreds of years of preparation have all been aimed at next Tuesday at eleven-fifteen P.M.,” said Dexires, “and twenty-three seconds.”

“That’s not even four days from now,” Oliver said quietly.

“Yes, tick tock,” said Dexires mildly. “That is why I am here now. It’s time for you to prepare.”

“But how do I prepare?”

Dexires smiled. “There are two things you need. One is the Triad of Finity.”

Oliver felt his entire body tense with frustration. “Wait, so, I’ve been trying to figure out what the Triad is for two years, and now you’re just going to show up and tell me? You couldn’t have done that before now?”

“Oh, no, not me,” said Dexires. “I actually don’t know what the Triad of Finity is.”

“How could you not know?” said Dean. “You made the Universe!”

“As I explained, we set the universe in motion, but it has made its own rules and secrets since we created it. Much like parents, we learn that our children have lives of their own. Again, it’s part of the fun, and the surprises are one of the things we Architects derive the most pleasure from. The Triad of Finity is one of those mysteries. Even the Nexia Prophecy is somewhat mystifying to us. Probably the only thing that isn’t a mystery is why these things have happened here, on Earth.”

“And why’s that?” Oliver asked.

“Because this world, Earth, is where life is strongest. Of all the designs in the universe, life is the highest achievement of the Architects. It was as much Désirée’s idea as anyone’s, actually.”

“I thought living beings were looked down on by the higher worlds,” said Oliver. “I’ve been taught that my whole life.”

“They may be, but that’s just because the dead and the demons don’t fully understand what a living being truly is, what it is made of. Its capacity to feel, not just emotions, but stimulus, even time … its extremes of joy and pain … those qualities are more intense here than anywhere else in the universe. It’s astounding. If something was going to be powerful enough to open the Gate and destroy the universe, it would most certainly be created here on Earth.”

“I was alive once,” said Dean sarcastically. “It wasn’t that great.”

“You have to see it in context,” said Dexires. “A vampire or a zombie may seemingly have more powers, like being able to jump high, but a living being has a power in its heart that nonliving beings can never know.”

Oliver could believe that. He thought of how Nathan made him feel, or Emalie. But still … “This doesn’t help us,” he said. “If you don’t know what the Triad is, then what good are you?”

“Now now, let’s keep our manners, shall we? I may not know what the Triad is, but I can tell you the other thing you need to do to prepare.”

“What’s that?”

Dexires reached under the counter.

“Is this the part where you give us some strange bottle or something?” Dean asked.

“Close.” Dexires placed an object on the counter. A white moonflower in a glass vial.

“Lythia’s group is using those,” said Oliver.

“Yes,” said Dexires, “and their meeting is tonight at the sewer club called Pele’s Lair.”

“We know that,” said Oliver.

“It is vitally important that you attend that meeting,” said Dexires. “Ideally unobserved. To that end …” He reached beneath the counter and produced a little glass jar. He removed the top and a little white creature rolled out, its smooth body about an inch long and slippery.

“What’s that?” asked Oliver.

“Albino Dampening leech,” said Dexires. “Place it on the back of your neck. As it feeds on your force energy, it will emit a frequency that blocks the Half-Light tracking device. You’ll be invisible to them.”

Oliver picked up the little squirming creature between his fingers. He frowned.

“I wouldn’t suggest leaving it on for more than a couple hours, otherwise you might start to feel a bit lightheaded. But that should be all the time you need for the meeting.”

“But,” Oliver began, “why should we go there? Who cares about what Lythia is up to when Emalie—”

“Again,” said Dexires, “I am just telling you these things. You will choose what to do. But I am saying that what is happening at Pele’s Lair is vitally important to the coming fruition of your prophecy.”

Dexires glanced back at the glowing mirror behind him. The lights bobbed around in circular motions. Oliver knew that these lights were the other Architects. The mirrors were how they communicated. “We all urge you to attend,” Dexires added.

“But Emalie is—”

“Yes, Emalie,” interrupted Dexires. “We have watched the young Orani girl, and I have even met her mother, and one thing I know for certain is that she can take care of herself. Your arrival in Arcana would only complicate things, if you could even get there, which you can’t. So please, don’t waste your time.”