The Triad of Finity (19 page)

“Dexires!” Emalie called into the mirror.

A single sphere of light bobbed closer and came into sharp focus.
Of course
, Dexires said in their minds.

The cars were skidding to a halt. The birds diving, dissolving into smoke and forming vampires.

Brilliant white light burst forth from the mirror, and Oliver and Emalie disappeared from Twilight Lane.

The light faded and Oliver and Emalie found themselves in Dexires’ shop, standing at the base of the high counter. He loomed over them, leaning forward on his many hands. His fingers were still. It was quiet, warm. The faint music wafted with the scent of ammonia.

“Welcome back,” said Dexires.

“Thanks,” said Oliver. “So, do you know where we need to go?”

“Yes, I heard. And are you feeling prepared for the journey?” Dexires asked, and Oliver thought he sounded different somehow, hoarse or something. And it smelled different in here, too; the ammonia was stronger, almost nostril-burning.

“Yeah,” said Oliver. “We’re ready. The sooner the better—”

“Tut tut, Oliver,” said Dexires, only that sounded even less like him, in fact—“Let’s not rush through the pleasantries, shall we? After all …”

Dexires seemed to lean farther forward, too far—

He tumbled over the front of the counter. Oliver and Emalie leapt backward as the mass of arms and legs crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

“Oh no,” Emalie whispered, looking up.

Oliver followed her gaze. The red hair. The white coat. The lavender eyes …

“It’s been so long,” said Dead Désirée smoothly. She looked around her shop with an expression of dissatisfaction. “This place needed a good cleaning.” She looked down at them. “But no matter. Now, you’re here. And we have so much catching up to do.”

She thrust out her hand, and Oliver was blinded with golden light.

Chapter 15

Upon Ancient Plains

Oliver’s eyes blinked open. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep or unconscious, but it seemed like it had been awhile. Distantly, he could feel his arms and legs aching, his head throbbing, his eyes burning like he’d been staring at a bright magmalight for too long. But those sensations were still up on the surface, and he was somewhere inside his head still. …

The golden glow that Désirée had created slowly dissipated, scattering like a swarm of luminous fireflies, and Oliver perceived a dark room: the one in his mind. He saw the bookshelves. There were many more leather volumes now. Entire rows were filled in. He saw the wide window. It had changed again.

The view of Nexia was still gone, only now the window was flashing with one quick moment of action after another in a blurring stream. Oliver saw flashes of hundreds of moments: battles, explosions, earthquakes, eruptions, people running and screaming, floods.

“Hello, Oliver.”

Sitting in the desk chair, the short flashes of imagery covering him in an ever-shifting mask of color, was Illisius. “Amazing, isn’t it? My whole history on fast forward, dumping into your brain.” Oliver looked to either side and saw books popping into existence on the shelves, filling row after row.

“This will probably give you a headache,” said Illisius, “but we have to work fast. Time is short.” He turned and folded his hands on the antique desk. A blue china cup of steaming tea sat before him. “It’s nice to see you.” Illisius smiled. Oliver noticed his white sharp teeth, his clean face and orderly black hair. His eyes gleamed like old bronze weaponry. His smooth fingers were interlocked on the desk.

When Oliver didn’t respond, Illisius continued. “It’s almost time.” He sighed deeply, then swiveled in his chair and gazed out the window. Images of crumbling buildings flickered on his cheek. “You’re almost to Nexia, and when you arrive, we’ll join and do the great work of our kind.”

“I don’t want to,” said Oliver. He knew it sounded pathetic.

Illisius nodded. “You’ve been so confused. Pulled in so many directions. It was an impossible job, really. Your human roots, a lingering soul, the Orani girl, all these things pressing the desperate yearnings of Finity onto you like greasy fingerprints. But fear not: after we open the Gate, you’ll get over it.”

“I don’t want to get over it,” said Oliver, thinking of Emalie, Dean, his parents. “I don’t want to lose them.”

“Ahh,” Illisius waved his hand, “give it a few millennia. You’ll see how uninformed those thoughts are. It’s so small-minded. The living always think they’re the most important thing in the universe. As if there haven’t been billions before them, and billions to come after them. As if there weren’t trillions of other living beings in parallel worlds right now.” He waved his hand at the flashing imagery. “This is just one anthill, if you know what I mean. You widen your gaze enough, and you see how silly all those human emotions are, how silly it is to think that lives
mean
something. But when you’re trapped on Earth, you can’t see it. You’re governed by all these things that you
feel
.” Illisius said the word as if it was toxic. “It’s not your fault.”

Oliver had nothing to say. He thought about that idea: of feeling. Dexires had said it was important, but Illisius made it sound so pathetic. Oliver thought of the night on the bluff when Nathan had given him the ability to feel his sadness over Bane, to cry over it. He thought about the other times: feeling hope for the future, feeling what he felt for Emalie, frustration with his destiny, and how all those feelings were so out of step with the other vampires. And yet …

Maybe it was yet another mark of how screwed up he was, but those were all times he remembered so vividly, and, maybe the times when he felt … alive?
But you’re not alive
, he told himself. Well, they were at least the times when he felt good, in a way. Something like content. Would he really want to give those up?

“Just think,” said Illisius, “you’ll be the last true vampire to be created. I’ll be the last prisoner. And then the Gate will be opened by a vampire: the very kind of creature that the Architects created to keep their universe safe.”

“How exactly am I going to open the Gate?” Oliver asked. No one had ever actually told him that part, and Illisius seemed to be in a chatty mood. Maybe Oliver could figure out what was about to happen, not that he had any hope of stopping it at this point.

“Actually, that’s the easiest part,” said Illisius. “You’re the vampire of the prophecy, and prophecies are simply universal laws that have been revealed, like the code that runs the program. All you have to do is command the Gate to open, and it will. Think of the Gate as needing a password. Well, you’re the password. It’s as simple as that.”

“But I don’t want to tell the Gate to open,” said Oliver, again hating how useless it sounded.

“Not yet,” said Illisius with a smile. He chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.” He turned back to the flickering blurring window. Oliver saw images of roadside bombs exploding in desert sands. Almost up to the present …

Oliver came to in more darkness. Felt the pains in his legs and arms more acutely. And Illisius was right; he had a throbbing headache.

The world around him was shuddering back and forth. He felt vibrating in his feet and teeth. He was sitting on something metal. There was clanging around him, a weird sound like tearing, and he felt nauseous. …

Oliver bent forward and wretched. A stream of blood and chocolate splattered against a metal floor. There went dinner. He looked around, his vision swimming. Some kind of metal-walled cell. Judging by the size of the bolts, the walls were thick, possibly lead. A small oil lamp was affixed to the wall, a white flame flickering in a glass globe, beside the impression of a door. There was no handle.

The world vibrated again with a loud hum, and Oliver felt it down into his bones, almost like his entire body was about to disintegrate atom-by-atom. …

A hand slipped into his. Suddenly the feeling abated. Oliver looked over to see Emalie beside him. She was sitting on the same bench, slumped against the wall. She looked at him with half-open eyes and smiled weakly. “I’m the one who got Anointed, remember? I have the, what was it called?”

Oliver leaned back, half against the wall and half against her shoulder, grateful for relief. “Transdimensional energy,” said Oliver. “The Anointment was supposed to make this trip possible, or something.”

Emalie’s eyes slipped closed. “Who can even remember, anymore,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel all that great, but I’m keeping my dinner down. Does my hand help?”

Oliver had an immediate reply, held it back, thought to say something else, then decided, what the heck, they were on their way to end the world, the least he could do was say what was on his mind. If there was one thing he’d learned from Emalie, from Dean and Nathan, from
life
, it was to say what he felt. “Your hand always helps.”

“Mmm.” Emalie’s smile grew. “You’re sweet.” She stretched her legs and grimaced. “Everything hurts, though. How did we get in here?”

Oliver looked around the cell. “Désirée. Big flash of light.”

“Where do you think
here
is?”

The whole room shivered again. There was a distant crashing sound like thunder. “No idea,” said Oliver. “But I think we’re a long way from Earth now. I saw Illisius in my mind. He said we were close to Nexia. So, I guess it’s Tuesday.”

“I’ve been trying to contact Dean,” said Emalie, “or the Orani. Anybody. All I can hear is static.”

She pulled his hand and took it in both of hers. “I’m glad I’m here with you. Glad you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I missed you,” said Oliver.

“I missed you, too.” She leaned over and kissed him, their lips touching for a second. …

Two … warm, radiating energy through Oliver’s entire body, making bright sparks in his mind.

Three … then she leaned back against the wall.

Oliver just stared into space. He wanted to be happy about that, the kissing, how amazing it felt, how natural it was, like it was meant to be, and yet, how could he be? That kissing was a part of a world that, in a matter of hours, they were doomed to end.

“We didn’t get the Triad,” said Emalie.

Oliver just shook his head. “Nope.” What hope did they have now? He thought back to his prophecy, hearing it in Selene’s wispy voice, years ago.

He recited it softly: “
There will come a young demonless vampire who has garnered a power never before known among them, and who will at maturity be able to open the Nexia Gate. The moment of choice will require a vessel so strong it can overcome the most powerful forces of the Architects. This triumph will free the
vampyr
, and establish a new order.”

Oliver glanced at Emalie. She was supposedly the power that the prophecy referred to, and yet Illisius hadn’t mentioned what Emalie’s role in opening the Gate was. Maybe they were supposed to command it open together. And, Illisius hadn’t said anything about a moment of choice. What choice?

“Weird,” Oliver said aloud.

“Hmm?” said Emalie.

“My prophecy says there will be a moment of choice.”

“Like, whether or not to open the Gate?” Emalie thought aloud.

“Maybe,” said Oliver. “Crevlyn said something about a choice, too.” What had it been. … “He said the Oldest Orani was always saying triplets of words. Um … Earth, Eve, Dawn. And Light, Dark, Choice.”

“Those are triads,” said Emalie. “I mean, threes right? Maybe they’re code. Code for the Triad of Finity.”

“Yeah but, what do they mean?”

The room vibrated again. There was a wicked splintering sound from somewhere above them, and the room lurched. Oliver was tossed into Emalie. He felt his bones shuddering, felt like he might throw up again. She squeezed his hand tighter. It helped. Oliver looked around, wishing he could see out.

“Well,” said Emalie. “Eve is like Dark. Then, Light and Dawn are similar. Earth and Choice don’t match up at all, though.”

There was a shrieking sound, and their room seemed to bounce roughly off something. Oliver felt their velocity slow. He wondered if they were arriving.

“Wait,” he said. “The Orani: You said they called you Eos.”

“Yeah, for dawn,” said Emalie. She sat up. “Oh, and … you live by night. What if you’re dark? And I’m dawn. And a third person could be Earth. …”

Oliver met her wide eyes. “What if Earth means, like, ground? Dean crawled up from the earth. And he didn’t have a choice about his existence, because of having a Master. …” Oliver couldn’t believe what he was thinking. “Could it be … us?”

Emalie nodded. “Maybe we’re the Triad.” She smiled at the idea. “But what does that mean? What would we do?”

“Selene said to gather the Triad, and that we’d be able to resist opening the Gate.”

“Well, Dean is on his way. Oliver, this could be it! It’s US! We—”

“Shhh!” Oliver threw a hand over Emalie’s mouth, feeling the warm wet of her lips and breath but he had to ignore that because someone was coming.

The door squealed open. Désirée stepped in. She was wearing high boots, khaki pants and a long, black leather coat. It was singed in places. Her blood-red hair was tied back, and she had thick aviator goggles pulled up onto her forehead. Oliver noticed a black mark, like ash, on her cheek.

“Hello, children.” She motioned out the doorway. “It’s been quite a journey. We left a little before the Great Radiance actually began so things have been a little rough, but all is aligned now and it’s safe to come out. We’re arriving at Nexia. I thought you’d like to see,” she started out.

Oliver held Emalie’s hand tight and they both stood. They ducked out of the tiny room and found themselves in a low-ceilinged hallway. The violent sounds from outside had ceased, and Oliver could feel a gentle swaying. Emalie took hold of the back of his sweatshirt with her free hand, as she had on their first adventure into the Underground. Oliver had to fight back a shudder. It hurt to remember that beginning, now that they were at the end. Hurt to consider that this could be the last time she grabbed his sweatshirt, and yet, he reminded himself, if they were right about the Triad, then maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off.