"Now, I'll ask you a simple question," he said. "The Anunnaki known as Adrastia came here not long ago. I want to know why."

How could he know? Did they have a traitor amongst them?

"I don't-"

Marie howled as Cain's foot crushed down on her hand, breaking several bones.

"Let's be clear," Cain said, "you already have several internal injuries. If you don't get them tended to soon, you will most likely die. But until then, you still have numerous bones and organs I can crush. We are both Anunnaki. We're practically...family." A sly, mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "I take little pleasure in causing you pain. I just want a simple answer, and I'll be on my way. Then you can use as much of that wonderful Veil energy as you wish to heal yourself."

He lifted his foot from her crushed hand and returned to his chair.

"There's no need for you to die. I know Adrastia isn't here any longer, or I'd be having this conversation with her. I just want to know why, after years of being trapped with me in the Veil, she would come here first? What was so important she had to wallow in this filthy place?"

Marie coughed, an audible rattle came from her chest. She spat out blood and a tooth.

"She wanted us to help her steal some information," she said.

Cain clapped his hands together three times.

"Very good," he said. "You're already far more useful than either of those two. And what kind of information was it?"

Marie chanced another look at the masked face. She could hear his voice changing, alternating between patronization and a near parental coaxing. But his eyes remained changeless-cold and dead. With everything else hidden by his mask, it gave the disconcerting feeling his words came from somewhere else. She could move so fast, yet he moved faster-like he was everywhere at once-his body in front of her, his voice somewhere, everywhere, else.

"Myths," she answered.

She could probably summon enough strength for a final burst of speed. Even if she missed, even if he killed her, it would be preferable than just lying here helplessly answering his questions. But what would her death gain? No one in Fenrir was on this level. She doubted anyone anywhere was. He would just indiscriminately kill until he had his answers, or was knee deep in bodies. Better her pride receive a mortal blow than let any more of her people die.

"She said they were about Ragnarok-that they could help us defeat Woten."

Cain leaned forward.

"She never believed in prophesy before. What made her change her mind?"

"I don't know. She just said it was going to happen." Every word came out in a gasp. Every gasp hurt like a new stab wound.

"And where are these files?" Cain asked.

"In the computer, next room over."

Cain pointed toward the wall behind her.

"Over there?"

"Yes."

He stood and walked past her line of sight. She couldn't summon enough strength to turn her head.

There was a rumble and rocks falling to the ground. A moment later, Cain stepped back in front of her.

"This computer?" he asked.

She didn't need to look, they only had one. A computer couldn't give them light, water, food, or transportation, so it was an unnecessary luxury.

"Yes."

Cain sat in the chair and rested the computer on his knees. He tapped away at the keyboard and stared at the screen.

"Ah, I see. Herodotus."

Cain laughed.

"All these years. The answer was right here. I ignored it for the same reason Adrastia did-this man was an old fool with lousy research methods. But it appears I underestimated him."

He snapped the laptop shut.

"Thank you," he said. "See, things are so much easier when we're honest with each other. I'm going to leave now. Once I'm gone, you feel free to heal yourself."

He came closer to her face.

"What was your name?" he asked.

"Marie."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"I'll remember that."

Reality rippled around him and he disappeared from sight.

Marie tore into the Veil and gorged herself on its healing energies. When she felt safe enough to move, she reached for the tooth she'd spit out. Her hands started to shake as soon she saw the blood covering them. Not even her own blood. She couldn't force herself to look at Richards.

She leaned against the wall, easing the flow from the Veil, but not yet healed enough to cut it off entirely.

The stone barrier Cain had blocked the entrance with rumbled and exploded into the room. Brandt charged in, his hands encased in his gauntlets. Caelum followed closely behind with his bow drawn.

"s.h.i.t," Brandt said, surveying the room and the bodies of Davies and Richards.

Seeing Marie, he rushed to her side.

"Geezus, Marie. Are you ok?"

She nodded.

"I just need a few more minutes," she said.

"Caelum, check her out."

Caelum let his bow fade back to the Veil. He placed his hand gently against the side of her head-it felt soft and warm. After a minute, he moved his hand to her shoulder, and then her outer thigh.

"She's fine," he said. "But from what I'm sensing, she must've been pretty badly injured."

"Where is the son of a b.i.t.c.h?" Brandt said. "I'll kill him."

"It was Cain," Marie said.

Brandt's bravado fell.

"Cain? d.a.m.n."

"What was he doing here?" Caelum asked.

"He wanted to know why Adrastia paid us a visit. I told him. He took the computer and the USB stick."

Brandt punched a hole in the wall.

"So unless Jason miraculously comes back with Takeda's Solution, we've come out with s.h.i.t."

Marie smiled.

"I said he took the computer and USB stick. I never said anything about the hard copies I had made."

20.

Knitting Fates

A plump, fleshy hand, delivered a series of soft taps against Gwynn's cheek.

"h.e.l.lo?" a feminine voice said. "We know you're still alive in there, child. How about you open your eyes a bit."

Gwynn's eyelids creaked open, as though fighting the glue of days worth of sleep.

"Who are you?"

How long had he been here? Where was Xanthe?

The woman who'd been tapping away at his face leaped off the shoulders of a much older woman. The two sat down at a table set several feet from the foot of the tree where Gwynn was pinned.

A third girl-because she was many years younger than the other two, perhaps in her early teens-sat at the table with knitting needles clicking away. The other two women joined her. The slappy one could've been the teen's mother-full hips and bosom, a woman not overweight, but no stranger to taste-testing her concoctions in the kitchen. The third filled the role of grandmother-stooped forward with age, her hair thin and silver, hanging down, partly covering her face.

Gwynn tried to summon any moisture in his mouth to bring life back to his constricted throat.

"Who are you?" he said again, a little stronger.

"No one," the young one said.

"Everyone," the mother said.

"The only one who matters," the grandmother added.

"I don't understand," Gwynn said.

The three laughed in unison, a chord of bell-like highs, deeper, fuller mids, and husky, raspy lows.

"You should've seen us first," the oldest one said. "Young people today...you're always trying to skip steps."

"Now, now," the mother said, "the boy just doesn't know the way things were done before. Besides, just because he did things in that order doesn't make it right. It just makes it his way of doing things. This boy, he's going about things the way he wishes."

"I doubt he wished to be stabbed through the chest and pinned to a tree," the young one said.

The middle aged mother figure pursed her lips and studied Gwynn through scrunched up eyes.

"You're probably right," she said with a shrug. "But if we want to get somewhere, we have to follow the road, regardless of how b.u.mpy."

"I'd call that more of a pot hole," the old one said, followed by a dry cackle that degenerated into a coughing fit.

"Do you ever just answer a question?"

"Sometimes," the young one said, wearing a coy smile.

"Always, when it is pertinent," the middle-aged one answered.

"Every single one, only people are too stupid to know when we have," the old one sneered.

The young one put her needles down and started dancing about, her pale yellow skirt a twirling tornado around her.

"We have so many names, they're unimportant. Stop asking the obvious question and ask the important ones."

Gwynn's body felt weightless, as though he'd lost all sensation below his neck. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even been awake or aware of his body. Xanthe skewered him, pinning him to this tree. What had he done since then? Was he sleeping? Dreaming? Was this a dream? No, he wouldn't ask them, they'd pa.s.s it off as unimportant. He couldn't feel below his neck. Had Xanthe severed his spine? He ached to see Sophia and Allison one more time, to say goodbye. Because if he was paralyzed, they should leave him for Cain and run as far as they could. If Cain found Gwynn alone, they'd be safe. If he couldn't protect them by being stronger, then he'd protect them through sacrifice.

"You're not paralyzed," the older woman said without lifting her eyes from her clicking needles.

"How did you..." Gwynn cut himself off-he figured it was another useless question.

The older one didn't seem to mind. Instead, she smiled knowingly to herself.

"You're human, it's obvious you'd think those things," she said. "Besides, we're currently bouncing around your soul. There're few things we don't know about you, or what you're thinking."