Guardian (Bonus Asylum Epilogue)

‘I will not let you take them.’

‘It’s not your decision.’

‘I’m in charge here. It is solely my decision.’

At Vicente’s words, the three Spaniards behind him withdrew their pistols. Dust placed a hand on Eddie’s arm, knowing he would not react well to the threat. If the humans were not careful, blood would be spilled.

A growl rumbled in Eddie’s throat, low enough for only Dust and Pippa to hear.

‘I will not let you take them,’ Vicente repeated.

Dust replied in song.

When she sang, her audience was captivated. By adjusting the tone and timbre, the lilt and lyrics, the pitch and precision, her siren voice infiltrated souls. Listeners were defenceless to her commands.

The henchman holstered their weapons and, with Vicente in tow, marched to the entrance of the catacombs. Vicente tapped numbers on a keypad and placed his eye against the retinal scanner. The gate soundlessly lifted, disappearing into a recess in the ceiling.

Beyond the opening, a dozen cryptids gazed out. Two goblins held each other tightly, each bearing a hole in their left hand. A giant serpent recoiled, unfurling six wings which sprouted along the length of its body. A creature which resembled a badger with an elongated body reared on its hind legs, shielding three of its kin.

‘You’re free now,’ Pippa said in Spanish as she moved forward. She held her hands out, ready to drain the non-humans of any suspicion or fear. ‘There are no conditions. You can join the free cryptids in England or live on your own. The choice is yours.’

Within the hour, the Asylum for Relocated Cryptids of Barcelona was empty. Another ARC cleared and a further success in the worldwide independence of all cryptids.

*

The passengers behind her were irritating. Their conversation was delivered in nasally, drawn-out words and clipped sentences that fell between rude and incredulous.

A pain had developed behind Dust’s eyes as soon as the flight to Rabat reached cruising altitude. It was now accompanied by a steadily increasing case of tinnitus. She saw no point bothering Eddie or Pippa with her condition; it was probably just an effect of the air travel.

The voices of the two men only served to aggravate her discomfort.

‘NASA has made recordings of sound from the sun.’

‘I thought there was no sound in space?’

‘There’s no medium to transmit soundwaves. The movement of gasses creates x-rays.’

‘But we can’t hear x-rays.’

‘They transform them into an audible noise.’

‘What do you think its saying? “Wear more suncream?”’

With a groan, Dust lay her head back. She closed her eyes and tried to tune out the pseudo-scientists.

*

The drive from Rabat to Fes was just over two hours. From there, it was another two to reach Tazekka National Park. Their destination was on the outskirts of the park, before the entrance, so they were only in the hire car for a little over three hours. Even so, Dust was relieved to reach the Moroccan ARC.

A winding dirt road cut through the underbrush, leading to an unassuming wooden shack. The track ended, discouraging visitors from driving further. Beyond the building, the Middle Atlas mountains rose in increasingly steep slopes.

‘Looks like something from a horror movie,’ Pippa said, eyeing the ramshackle building. ‘Are you sure this is the place?’

‘I’ve never been here before.’ Dust replied. ‘I’ve never even been to Africa before.’

‘These are the directions Andrea gave us.’ Eddie’s voice was level, a calming influence on Dust. To date, Andrea’s connections with the Horatio Foundation had led them to six ARCs.

‘Are we trusting her now?’ Pippa asked.

‘Jordan is keeping an eye on her,’ Dust said.

Pippa smiled. ‘Him, I trust.’

Eddie stepped onto the porch. The wood groaned under his weight. When he knocked, the door swung open onto a single room. On the left, a battered dining table lay before a kitchen range. Two mismatched sofas sat on the right, forming an L that didn’t fit flush with the corner.

‘No one’s home,’ he said as he entered.

Dust stumbled as she followed him, the ringing in her ears affecting her balance. She steadied herself on the jamb, glancing at Eddie to make sure he hadn’t noticed.

‘Someone’s been here,’ Pippa said. ‘There’s no dust.’

‘Fridge is working too,’ Eddie added from the kitchenette.

‘Where are they now?’ Dust asked. ‘Hiding behind the sofa?’

Pippa chuckled, her eyes automatically glancing in that direction. Her laughter stopped abruptly. ‘You may be on to something.’

Dust moved forward, half believing the vampire was pulling her leg. When she reached the brown settee, she understood the reason it was not pushed up against the back wall: to allow access to a trapdoor.

‘Another underground Asylum,’ Eddie muttered as he pulled the door open.

A short wooden staircase took them into a concrete corridor. Dust walked easily, the ringing in her ears eased. In thirty yards, they entered a large lobby. Eight doors led from the room on the right. To the left stood only one portal; a wide, high steel door with an impressive locking system. Opposite the corridor was a reception counter, complete with a framed picture behind, a water cooler to one side and a young man who smiled at them.

‘You must be the English delegates.’  His voice was even but his words were fast, betraying his nerves. ‘You have arrived sooner than anticipated.’

‘You were expecting us?’ Dust asked

The man nodded as he tapped on a keyboard hidden behind the desk. ‘Monsieur Baudin is aware of your… activities and has made preparations.’

Further along the lobby, a door opened and six people marched out. Dust swallowed, preparing to sing should a fight ensue. Eddie took a half-step to one side, positioning himself between Dust and Pippa and the newcomers.

With eyes full of wariness, and a touch of fear, the group walked past the reception desk and into the exit corridor. As she passed, the woman at the rear whispered, ‘Allah have mercy.’

‘I must go now, as well,’ the receptionist said. ‘Monsieur Baudin will be along in a moment.’

‘Wait,’ Dust called as the man followed his colleagues. ‘What’s happening? Why are you leaving?’

He turned back to them and paused. For a moment, Dust thought he was about to speak. Instead, remorse flooded his eyes and he hurried away.

‘That was unusual,’ Dust said.

‘Our reputation precedes us,’ Pippa suggested.

‘I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,’ Eddie added. Suspicion clouded his face.

‘It depends on your point of view.’ The new voice was clipped and precise, like that of a robot.

A tall figure approached them from the door through which the evacuees had appeared. Above his loose t-shirt, his neck and the left side of his face were riddled with scars. He pressed a small, cylindrical device to his throat from which the mechanical interpretation of speech emanated.

‘I am Jacques Baudin,’ he said through the electrolarynx. He led them to the steel door, spun the locking wheel and pushed the door open. Beyond was a wide cave which led to the open air.

‘I thought there’d be more locks,’ Eddie said.

‘I knew you’d be here soon enough. There was no point in delaying you.’ Baudin waited until they had all entered the cave before closing the door. He took the few steps to the opening and, with a sweep of his arm, added, ‘Welcome to my Asylum.’

Dust took in the impressive vista. An area of around seven square kilometres was surrounded by cliff walls which climbed to the high Middle Atlas mountain peaks. There was a whole ecosystem before them; scrubland, dense forest and marshes.

Fifty yards to their left, a boulder blinked at them with a dozen eyes. At the forest edge, a pack of small wolf-like creatures skittered into the darkness under the trees.

Maybe it was the combination of fresh air and the eclectic landscape that made Dust’s head swim and her ears buzz.

‘Do you know why… why we’re here?’ she asked with a stammer.

‘You have issues with the Horatio Foundation,’ Baudin replied. ‘A sentiment I share.’

With a motion for them to follow, he set off into the Asylum. He moved with the assured grace of one who spent much of his time in the wilderness. By comparison, Dust stumbled like a child. Pippa steadied her on occasion, for which Dust was equally embarrassed and grateful.

Carefully winding his way around the swamp, Baudin took them toward the forest. He did not pause, heading under the canopy of trees. The branches overhead were so thick they blocked out much of the sunlight.

They trudged through the twilight until they came to a manmade pool of clear water. Beneath the surface, two dozen snakes glided and thrashed around one another. He dropped to his haunches and placed a hand over the water.

Dust’s vision dimmed. A sensation filled her head, not pain but not pleasant. It passed as quickly as it came, leaving her tense and anxious. Her pulse increased. She glanced around, looking for the source of danger.

‘Like you,’ Baudin said, ‘I know that the Horatio Foundation is foolish to protect cryptids.’ The electronic words conveyed no emotion, but his eyes were filled with scorn.

Eddie took a step closer to Dust and Pippa, unconsciously shielding them.

‘You mean they’re wrong to detain cryptids,’ Pippa questioned. ‘We’re striving for their independence.’

‘I know your goals,’ said Jacques. ‘But one rebellion does not a coup make. The cryptids should have neither independence nor protection – they should be destroyed for the monsters they are.’

Dust’s spinning head and fuzzy hearing made the moment feel surreal. Had the Asylum’s leader truly just advocated genocide?

Eddie’s customary growl rumbled forth like thunder and grounded Dust.

‘I came to Africa,’ Baudin said, ‘because this is where mankind first rose. We are the dominant species, the first sentient life. Cryptids are nothing but aberrations. They have no place in our world and need to be eradicated.’

The lightness in Dust’s head swelled. She felt she was floating over them all. Her mouth screamed, ‘Lies,’ then she was back in her body.

As Eddie turned to Dust with concern, Baudin snatched a snake from the pool. It wriggled and coiled frenziedly, but he gripped it tight near the head. The snake’s open mouth bore two large fangs.

‘Eddie,’ Pippa cried, but the warning was too late.

Baudin sprang forward and thrust the snake fangs into Eddie’s upper arm. Eddie yelped in surprise and spun on the man.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Dust told Baudin. ‘You’re just going to make him mad.’

Baudin dropped the serpent into the pool and backed away, his face showing glee instead of fear.

‘I know who you are, Edvard Thorssen. These sea snakes,’ he indicated the writhing mass within the pool, ‘are descended from Jörmungandr itself.’

Eddie moved closer to Baudin. The Frenchman inched further away, hands reaching for his own ears. Before Eddie could take another step, his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground. The skin around the twin punctures was red and swollen. Crimson lines threaded from the wound.

In Dust’s years with him, Eddie had suffered many injuries – including battling a giant centipede and being shot in the cheek – and had always recovered in a matter of days. A mere animal bite, whether venomous or not, should not have this effect on him.

He had once told Dust that he was a demigod, the offspring of a Norse god and a human woman, which she had thought a fanciful story. Now that Baudin had mentioned the sea monster responsible for the death of Thor, she gave the tale some credence.

There would be an antidote. She would sing Baudin to submission and make him save Eddie.

She opened her mouth and issued a lament laced with sadness and power. It was directed solely at the Frenchman and contained just enough barbs to be uncomfortable to hear.

Baudin gave her a smug smile. In an open palm, he held two tiny devices each with a thin, curled tube. Hearing aids. He dropped them to the ground then traced the scars on his face and neck.

‘The ghūl who gave me these, also took my voice and my hearing. You have no command over me, siren.’

Dust stopped singing. Her one supernatural talent was useless against him.

‘That’s why you made everyone leave,’ Pippa said. ‘So Dust couldn’t control them to overpower you.’

Baudin ignored her, which was no surprise. His eyes were fixed on Dust.

Despair flooded through Dust. She was floating again, gazing down as Eddie squirmed in pain. The ringing in her ears was thunderous.

‘Open air,’ she said, though she had not bid the words.

Back in her body, she knew she had to get Baudin out from under the trees. She had no idea how that could help them, she only hoped an opportunity would present itself.

‘Stay with Eddie,’ she called to Pippa, then lunged for Baudin.

The Frenchman was quick, dodging her easily. He jumped to the side, moving further into the forest. If she continued to advance on him, she would only succeed in pushing him in deeper.

Maybe a taunt would work.

‘You have signed your own death warrant,’ she said, mouthing the words clearly in the hope he could lipread. ‘When your people come back, I will have them hunt you down and skin you alive. I will then make them turn on each other. You have killed everybody under your command.’

Baudin smiled. It would have looked evil even without the mass of scars.

‘They will not return,’ he said. ‘There will be nothing to come back for once I have massacred every cryptid here.’

‘Then I will find your residents and orchestrate a mass hunt.’

The smile faltered, a sliver of doubt entering his eyes. ‘You… you can’t.’

‘Watch me.’ Dust took a heartbeat to savour Baudin’s fear, then turned and ran for the treeline.

A glance behind confirmed he was following, fast. He caught her before she broke free from the trees, clutching at her hair. Fire reigned along her scalp as he tugged. She lost balance, skidded and would have lost her footing had she not hit a nearby trunk. The collision forced the breath from her, but she pushed away without pausing.

With strands of her silver hair in his hand, Baudin bounded after her. He was spry and was used to this terrain. There was no way she was going to break cover before he reached her.

The sense of vertigo returned and once more she was looking down, watching her futile attempt at escape. The noise in her ears changed pitch and tone, becoming a continued buzz of different sounds.

The version of Dust that was running lengthened her stride. Baudin kept up with his quarry, not gaining ground.

The ever-changing noise held a familiar quality. Not something she knew or understood, but a pattern recognised on an instinctual level.

Then she was in her body, out of the trees and out of breath. Her thighs and calves burned, and her chest was tight. With no energy to continue, she collapsed to the ground. Baudin was on her in an instant. She tried to resist but was too weak, unable to stop his hands clamping around her neck, helpless as his thumbs pressed into her throat.

His face loomed over her; eyes burning with anger, lips twisted into a hateful snarl. She didn’t want his vitriol to be the last thing she saw. Her vision blurred, all colour leached from sight as the light around them intensified to a painful glare.

Then she was looking down, seeing the two of them caught in a sunbeam as bright as a spotlight. She watched as the Frenchman squeezed the life from her. There was no pain from this vantage point, only the buzz at her ears. The sound she now recognised as conversation.

She could not discern the words, but she felt their meaning. Her body was being controlled by a foreign intelligence. Information was being relayed to her but she did not have the lexicon to absorb the lesson.

On the ground, Dust’s hands reached up to Baudin’s cheeks. Tendrils of steam drifted from beneath her palms. Baudin released her throat and tried to tear her hands from his face, all the while issuing a scream his body could not articulate.

The jumbled conversation quietened. Even had she known the language, the volume was now too low for her to detect any words.

‘This is my world,’ the Dust on the ground said.

Dust was not a mother but she had a sudden rush of maternal attachment to a rock spinning through blackness.

Baudin’s skin around Dust’s hands blackened.

‘My people inhabit.’

Hosts of creatures flooded Dust’s mind. Dogs and ants, chrysomalls and shug monkeys, diplodocuses and zebras, chupacabras and shekas, whales and butterflies, hindi-ardilyas and manticores.

The blackness extended across Baudin’s face.

‘You are uninvited.’

She saw flares light up the sky, a dozen fireballs plummeting to the continent that would later be known as Africa.

Hair sizzled. Eyeballs shrivelled.

‘Invader.’

Beings rose from smoking craters, bipedal and upright. Humans.

The skin of Baudin’s face melted. Flesh peeled from his skull.

‘I will protect.’

Dust returned to her body in time to see Baudin’s head implode. Flames as bright as the sun danced momentarily between her open hands before receding into her palms. She lay on her back, choking in breaths, seeing nothing but cloudless sky.

Millions of miles above her, the sun shuddered and the murmur of unknown speech bypassed her consciousness and directly entered her soul. Freedom.

* * *

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