The Far Shores (The Central Series) (57 page)

She stood carefully,
uncertain of her balance until she confirmed her relatively minimal state of
disorientation. She tiptoed across the room to the door, testing the handle
gently, and found it locked. She looked out the window and discovered she was
on the fourth floor of a rather generic modern building, with a view of dusty
hills and scattered clusters of scrub brush and coastal sage. The sky was endlessly
grey, which told her nothing more than she was still somewhere in Central – if
her kidnappers were to be believed, most likely at the Far Shores. The window
was simply a pane of tinted safety glass in a metal frame set in the wall, with
no mechanism or latch, clearly designed to remain closed. Eerie tapped it with
painted blue fingernails thoughtfully, then put her ear to the glass and
listened.

She heard the door
unlock and turned to face whatever came with an impassive expression, her hands
balled into fists at her sides.

Dr. Graaf let himself in
with a smile, wearing a white lab coat, flanked by a middle-aged Asian man with
a receding hairline and a comb-over, dressed in the same way, who locked the
door behind them. They both held clipboards, and their coat pockets were
stocked with a liberal supply of pens. Dr. Graaf’s black shoes were polished to
the point that Eerie caught a brief reflection of her own face in them as he
walked across the room to one of the chairs, indicating with a gesture for her
to sit on the examination table. Seeing no other option, Eerie hesitantly
complied, resting on the edge of the crinkling, paper-covered mattress, her
hands balled between her legs.

“Good afternoon, Eerie.
I, as you might remember, am Dr. Graaf, and this is my associate, Dr. Tsu. I
offer my sincere regrets for the circumstances of your arrival,” Dr. Graaf said
cheerily, as if he were apologizing for a bumpy bus ride. He paged through the
paperwork attached to his clipboard, nodding to himself as he read. “We took
the opportunity to make a brief examination while you were indisposed. You will
doubtless be glad to hear that you appear to be in excellent health.”

Eerie recoiled at the
statement.

“What did you do?”

Dr. Graaf looked hurt at
the implication of impropriety.

“Nothing invasive, I
assure you,” he said, his tone wounded. “A routine check of temperature, blood
pressure, and weight. We drew two blood samples to conduct a few standard
tests, and gave you a supplementary injection for safety reasons. Additionally,
we conducted a series of X-rays and took a few MRI images. The results, I must
say, were fascinating...”

“You did not have my
consent,” Eerie stated flatly. “That is wrong.”

Dr. Graaf appeared
genuinely flustered, while Dr. Tsu looked at him in obvious confusion.

“Again, I offer my
apologies,” Dr. Graaf said earnestly, setting his clipboard aside on the
counter. “I did not intend to offend your sensibilities. I merely seek the
advancement of science, and you, my dear girl, offer a wealth of knowledge
otherwise unobtainable. Sometimes social niceties must be set aside in the name
of the greater good. I am certain that you understand.”

“Understanding is not
important,” Eerie said, with a slight shake of her head. “Consent is.”

“Dr. Graaf, perhaps
another injection?” Dr. Tsu produced a wan smile as he made the suggestion, his
voice soft and in keeping with his delicate features. “The patient appears
perturbed...”

“Not ‘the patient.’ My
name is Eerie, and I am a person. Not an object to be studied.”

Dr. Tsu looked at her
with evident puzzlement.

“You are entirely wrong,
child,” Dr. Graaf countered gently. “Your status as a person is very much in
question, at least from a strictly human perspective. And we are all objects
for study, regardless of any other factor. Because of your unusual parentage,
however, you are a particularly fascinating object of study – your unique
biological and genetic makeup could well provide insights that might otherwise
never be gained. You should take pride in that, I think.”

Eerie said nothing,
regarding them with her dilated eyes and expressionless face.

“For example,” Dr. Graaf
continued enthusiastically, “are you aware that there are at least three
previously undiscovered cellular bodies in your blood? Our microbiologists
assure us that they have never seen anything of the sort before. One in
particular is intriguingly similar to other terrestrial microbes, quite
possibly a separate living being in its own right, perhaps existing in
conjunction with your own system in a symbiotic relationship. Assuming that
this is an independent creature that inhabits your bloodstream, and that it
provides some form of health benefit or biological function, imagine the
implications for medical science! Perhaps it could be transplanted or grown in
cultures and injected...”

“I would like to go
home,” Eerie stated. “Can I have a phone, please? I want to call Rebecca Levy.”

Both doctors blanched at
the name, exchanging a look whose significance was lost on the Changeling.

“I’m afraid that is
impossible, at this particular moment.” Dr. Graaf nodded to Dr. Tsu, who left
the room quietly. “Are you familiar with the Far Shores, Eerie? The work that
we do here?”

“I want to go home,”
Eerie repeated. “Now.”

“As I mentioned, at the
present, that is impossible. Clearly, however, I have erred in my approach and
presentation of your crucial importance to the work that we are doing, here at
the Far Shores. Allow me to rectify that.” Dr. Graaf stood and gestured for
Eerie to accompany him. “Perhaps a tour of our facilities, of the many
fascinating and positive developments that are happening on our campus, will
help set your mind at ease as to our intentions. There are so many amazing
things that I wish to share with you! If you will come with me...”

“No.” Eerie folded her
arms. “I want to call Rebecca.”

“That isn’t going to
happen.” Dr. Graaf smile never wavered. “Come along, please.”

“I don’t want a tour. I
want to go home.”

“Eerie, I insist.” Dr.
Graaf again beckoned for her. “Let’s not make this more unpleasant than it
needs to be, shall we?”

***

Alex was lying on the sidewalk,
staring at the back of Katya’s legs. The pain in his head had diminished to
nothing worse than a typical headache, and the nosebleed had stopped, though
when he wiped his hand across his face, his nose and lips were caked with
partially dried blood. His vision slowly cleared, and the sounds around him
gradually clarified from undifferentiated rushing into two identifiable voices.

He turned his head, too
weak to stand, and realized that Katya was standing between him and the Witch,
one hand filled with needles, the other holding a grenade, her thumb encircled
by the pin.

“You take another step,
and I’m going to perforate your brain,” Katya warned. “If that doesn’t kill
you, I’ll pull the pin on this. It’s high explosive layered with anti-personnel
shrapnel. One way or another, you will die.”

“You are within the
blast radius, Auditor.” The Witch’s voice was warm and resonant, her tone full
of good humor. “As is the boy you are protecting. You would both die in the
explosion. Are you even sure that it would harm me?”

“Try me,” Katya
suggested, “and we’ll both find out.”

The Witch threw her head
back and laughed.

“Fortunately, such an
extreme response is not necessary. I intend no harm to you, or to your amnesiac
friend. I am here to offer the Auditors assistance, and I come bearing gifts.”

“Funny,” Katya growled, “you
don’t look like Santa Claus.”

“You are a witty one,
girl,” the Witch said. “Commendable. Now, if you would, please call the one of
your number named Mitsuru. My name is Yaga, and she can vouch for my
intentions. I will also need to speak to Alice Gallow.”

There was a confusing
jumble of movement, as a black-haired woman stepped out of the Witch’s shadow
and snaked her arm around the Witch’s neck, drawing it tight in a vicious choke
hold.

“That’s original. No one
ever
wants
to talk to me. I usually have to make them talk.” Alice tugged
the hold tighter while simultaneously lifting the Witch off of her feet,
causing her to gag and kick futilely against Miss Gallow’s armored shins. “Hey,
Mitzi. This the Witch you talked to?”

Alex glanced behind him,
and Miss Aoki – actually, it was Mitsuru now, he reminded himself – was
extending a hand, Chike watching with concern in the background. She glanced at
Miss Gallow and nodded, then carefully helped Alex back up. Katya replaced the
cap on the grenade with a sigh of relief. Michael must have apported in with Chike
and Mitsuru, because he hurried to Katya’s side.

“Are you good, Katya?”

“Fine, fine,” Katya
said, waving his attentions away. “Worry about Alex.”

“I’m okay,” Alex said,
taking a damp cloth that Mitsuru proffered and using it to clean the blood from
his face. “All clear.”

“Okay,” Miss Gallow
said, lowering the Witch down to the ground, and relaxing the hold slightly, so
the Witch could take several shuddering breaths. “It’s not my usual policy to
suffer a Witch to live, but I guess this time I might make an exception,
assuming you have a real good reason for being here.”

Miss Gallow released the
Witch, who went tumbling to her knees, her face gradually returning to its
normal shade while she coughed and clutched her neck. Before she could stand or
speak, Miss Gallow rested the muzzle of her shotgun against the nape of the
Witch’s neck.

“I’m gonna warn you,
though – I’m feeling jumpy and impulsive today. You do anything that makes me
even slightly nervous, and this is gonna be a very short conversation.
Understood?”

The Witch nodded, still
attempting to regain her wind.

Alex finished cleaning
his face, and tossed the bloody rag aside. Michael approached him, looking
concerned.

“Are you alright, son?
What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Alex
snapped, not sure why he felt annoyed and embarrassed at the attention. “It’s a
long story, but it doesn’t have anything to do with that Witch, or the mission.
We’ll talk about it later, okay? Right, Katya?”

Katya glanced over at
him from where she stood, watching the Witch, still holding her handful of
sewing needles.

“Yeah,” she agreed
reluctantly, averting her eyes. “Sure.”

Michael looked from one
of them to the other, bewildered.

“Spill it,” Miss Gallow
said, nudging the Witch with her gun barrel. “What brings you to Kiev on this
lovely, sunny day?”

“The same thing as you,”
the Witch responded, one hand covering her bruised throat. “The Anathema. I am
pleased that you heeded my advice, despite your lack of gratitude, and your
brutish behavior.”

“Be careful,” Miss
Gallow said, prodding her with the gun. “You don’t wanna hurt my feelings.”

“I doubt you would be so
quick to kill me.” The Witch smiled at Miss Gallow. “After all, without my
help, your operation will fail, and all of you will die.”

“That sounds a little
bit too much like a threat.”

“It isn’t a threat.” The
Witch rose slowly and gracefully, seemingly unconcerned with the gun touching
her neck. “It’s an act of charity.”

“Okay, we are already
following up on your last gift,” Alice snarled. “Why are you so urgently
generous?”

“Because they have
rooted a sapling of Yggdrasil, the World Tree,” Yaga explained calmly. “And if
you do not act to stop them before it is aligned, then you will not be able to
stop them at all. You people!” Yaga exclaimed. “Don’t you know anything about
Norse mythology?”

***

Dr. Graaf couldn’t judge the
impression he was making on the Changeling. He had steeled himself against the
temptation to confuse her with a human being, to project the morals and
rationales of humanity onto a canvas apart from those concerns, but that
particular conundrum never presented itself. Instead, he found himself
wondering how she had lived so long in human society – to the extent of making
friends and having romantic relationships, if reports were to be believed –
when she did such a poor job of imitating humanity. The injection had not yet
taken effect, if he was any judge of such things, though he could not be sure –
it was untested, to say the least.

He would have understood
fear. He had arranged for the girl to be kidnapped, after all, and force had
been involved. He had separated her from everything she knew, and he had not
been shy about his intent to use her to further his own studies. She had been
subjected to a medical examination while she was unconscious, and had been
refused the opportunity to contact those who she purportedly cared about. Yet
the Changeling evidenced not even trepidation, even when she toured the
biological laboratories, with their caged experimental animals and necessarily
cruel practices and instrumentation. Dr. Graaf had concealed this place even
from the students amongst the Audits program, for fear of the reaction it would
provoke, but the Changeling offered no comment on observing a ward full of
monkeys dying of venereal disease or an experiment designed to study the
breakdown of society in a colony of starving rats.