The Crystal Tower, Page 2

  “Dear patrons, please proceed to the nearest exit in an orderly fashion.”

  He glanced down at Jennifer as the warnings continued through the speakers. She was staring straight ahead at the doors, holding his hand loosely. She appeared transfixed, and his brow creased with lines of worry. He was getting ready to say something when she spoke.

  “Daddy, what was that light?”

  Mason took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said. He continued looking at her. He frowned at the moment of silence that passed between them, for it seemed, oddly, that she had some greater hold over the situation than he did, and it was an inexplicable feeling. He took another few breaths and glanced around at the video feed that played across the elevator’s interior.

  “I saw things in it,” Jennifer said.

  Mason didn’t turn toward her immediately; instead, his head slowly tilted downward as he lowered his gaze to her.

  “Like what?” he asked, at the same time both knowing and not wanting to know the answer to the question.

  “It’s hard to describe. Some kind of tower. Like this one, only bigger…and brighter. And…crystal. Everywhere and everything composed of crystal. And then people. A man in a black cloak was standing on a beach, watching, but…he wasn’t supposed to be.”

  Mason knelt on the ground. At this height, at her age, Jen was a few inches above his eyeline, and he found himself looking up at her. “Are you OK?”

  She frowned. “I’m fine.” She paused and glanced to her left. “What was that, though?”

  “I’m not sure, but it wasn’t good. We need to get out of the city.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Yes, we do.”

  He tried not to betray the mild streak of fear he felt at his daughter’s confidence about this particular matter. It was his responsibility to make such decisions. How could she be so sure of such a thing? “We’ll collect your mother on the way and ask her to come with us.” Mason stood back up and took her hand again as the elevator slowed down.

  “What if she won’t come?” Jennifer asked.

  “I’ll try my best to make her.” The elevator was approaching the ground floor rapidly. As it came to a stop, Jennifer spoke again.

  “I heard voices in the light too, Dad.”

  Mason winced but glanced to his side so his daughter would not see the reaction.

  Still, she spoke again. “Someone was out there. His name was…Zatera.” She had been watching the doors, her eyes distant, but now she turned and looked back up at her father. “Who is Zatera, Dad?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, even though he had no idea how to respond. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the elevator chime and felt it come to a stop. The doors opened and they walked into the dim corridor. He held Jennifer’s hand all the way. When they reached the point where they had to choose between the subway or the on-street exit, by sheer force of habit, Mason moved in the direction of the underground. He felt his daughter’s grip tighten and he stopped, turning to see her standing motionless and pulling on his arm.

  She shook her head and turned toward the sign that pointed in the direction of the surface exit. Then she looked back at him and grimaced. “Not that way.”

  His eyes widened at the sound of foreboding in her voice. Then he gathered his bearings, nodded, and followed her. Together, they hurried to exit the building, with Mason following his daughter’s lead.

  CHAPTER 1

  THE COLD WIND OF DAY

  Jane was sitting on the beach passing handfuls of sand from one palm to the other, watching as it fell between both. She had drawn her legs up beneath her, and wasn’t bothered by the relative cold of the sand underneath. Max was keeping them warm by speeding up the motion of the air molecules surrounding them, so that otherwise, a light, warm breeze drifted over her. Her friends, largely silent now, having already discussed the intense actions of the previous evening at great length, were behind her. Ciara and Mike were asleep next to each other, while Morris was standing at her right just a few feet away and waiting for the sun to rise.

  Jane was focusing intently on Max, although she looked out at him only now and then. He was standing at the shoreline with his back to them, facing the horizon. He had been like that for an hour. Surreptitiously, Jane had been trying to see into his mind. She had actually succeeded on some occasions and obtained pieces of information—just words, some images, and a couple of phrases—but nothing in this allowed her to form a coherent picture of what was happening now, or of what Max seemed so concerned about. She winced slightly against a sudden, chilled breeze as he apparently lost his concentration.

  She had been looking at the sand cascading between her two hands when she felt this, and she glanced up at him. His head tilted by just a couple of degrees as he resumed his focus. When the icy wind chill was gone, Jane took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and calmed her mind, pulling her thoughts away from Max’s. She knew, of course, that he was aware she had been trying to get inside, to see what he was thinking about, but that seemed to no longer matter. She had seen some kind of glimmering surface with strange indentations. It reminded her of the crystal she had seen in the fleeting dream she had soon after they escaped from the first facility. However, there hadn’t been much to the image other than a brief flash of light before Max had gently pushed her away from his thoughts once more. She had felt like a two-year-old then, and as though Max—ever the adult—had drawn her away from some great precipice.

  She turned around and glanced at Morris. He had been looking down the beach to the right and he glanced back toward her when he sensed her gaze fall upon him. She squinted just a little, knowing he would understand her miniscule inflection. He nodded firmly, confirming his approval of her intent, so she turned back around and drew her legs into a tighter position, sitting cross-legged. She closed her eyes and began to focus again. Jane felt her astral body within seconds and she lifted her arm out of its physical counterpart. Then, with the greater confidence that had overcome all four of them, she stood out of her body and walked across the beach in her astral form.

  Everything was different in this state of being. The thin, high cirrus clouds that crossed the sky at a slant now glowed with a multicolored aura she could not see with her physical senses. The sea luminesced with a beautiful azure haze, and the sand beneath her twinkled, as though each grain shone a light and was a world unto its own. She looked ahead again and watched as Max’s flowing black cloak approached her. It fluttered to the left as she walked in front of him. Then, she turned and faced him. She saw that his gaze was locked on the horizon, and his eyes appeared heavy with concentration. Indeed, his gaze was fierce; it seemed as though a thousand thoughts weighed on his mind.

  Jane dared herself to peer deeply into them—an action she would quickly come to regret. As she did, she found her astral body gripped and turned around forcefully on the beach, facing outward. Her pulse quickened in her physical body as she was consumed by the ferocity, speed, and intensity of Max’s thoughts. It seemed as though the sea—the water itself—had become a living entity. An incredible tower glowed on the horizon, but it flickered in and out of existence, as though fate couldn’t decide whether it was real or not. Then her attention was drawn by something in the upper left corner of her vision. Her body trembled with panic as she slowly turned upward to look in that direction. What she saw broke her out of the astral experience completely. A massive sphere of water was floating in the sky. It was hundreds of feet wide, and more liquid was being drawn from the surface into its cascading form. It was growing, and it too flickered in and out of existence, as though, again, the forking paths of the future were still open to the possibilities represented by their very decisions.

  The feeling of power and danger that the scene evoked in her broke the spell. The images faded quickly, and Jane felt her astral body fly backward across the beach. As she reconnected with her physical body, she craned her neck back and gasped, taking in a deep lungful of
air. She felt Morris’s hand on her shoulder and she spoke into his mind.

  I’m fine. It’s fine. Go back.

  His hand withdrew, and she heard his gentle footfalls in the sand behind her as he retreated. Gathering her composure, she brushed aside her unkempt hair and focused on Max again. It was easier now, and she saw an image of his face clearly in her mind as he opened up to her. He was smiling, and his eyes were no longer in a deadlock with the horizon, but had drifted to another part of the ocean on his left.

  Like what you saw?

  The sound of his telepathic voice was like a cold, gentle hand reaching into her mind.

  I don’t quite know what I saw, she responded.

  I know. He paused. Don’t worry about it, he said after a few seconds of silence.

  Was it the future?

  Possible futures. Possible scenarios. I was running through them.

  Is that why you’ve been like that for an hour?

  In a sense. I’ve had a lot to think about.

  Well, do you know what’s going to happen?

  Not completely, but I have a good idea. I know what he’s most likely to do next.

  You mean the entity? The one who occupied Trey’s body? The same one I ran from in the marble hall?

  Yes.

  He turned around to face her. In the time since he had taken up his position at the shore, as though standing guard like a sentry, the sun had risen over the horizon. Now the tip of the glowing orange disc was in the sky just to his right. His face looked beautiful, the coral glow gently crossing his perfect cheekbones. As he walked toward her, the reflection from the sun seemed to meld with the outline of his cloak, creating a ripple effect. Jane knew this was his power—pure psychic energy leaking into the world around him, illuminated by this particular angle of the sun’s rays.

  Still, as he drew closer, the first thing Jane noticed were the new, small lines that creased his face at the corners of his eyes. He still had the appearance of someone who was thirty-odd years old, but things had changed. Max was flesh and blood, even though he clearly had command of enormous power over the physical world. The psychic manifestation of his body that seemed to change in appearance with the flow of his thoughts—which she had known first as a child, and then as a young adult—was gone. As far as she knew, his presence in that form may never appear to her again. As he drew closer, she saw that he had, indeed, seemed to age, if only by a few years. By normal standards (if such a thing existed in this world anymore), that was completely unnatural, but for her and her kin, at this point, it was not. Jane had an idea of why it was happening, but she didn’t allow herself to think about it, or to explore the full range of awful possibilities it represented. They led to only one unspeakable outcome, and it was something she could not—and perhaps would never—face.

  She heard Ciara and Mike stir behind her, as though drawn to a wakened state by Max’s approach. He stopped when he was just a few feet from her. Glancing down, she saw that the edges of his coat had become soaked by his proximity to the water. She glanced up at him and squinted as the growing daylight crossed her eyeline.

  Jane expanded her telepathic reach as she spoke, knowing how pertinent the next question was and wanting her friends to hear the answer. What’s his name, Max?

  Max’s eyes narrowed to slits. Jane could tell the question had caught him off guard. He took a deep, labored breath, then glanced down the beach to his right. Zatera, he answered, his telepathic voice echoing in her mind more forcefully. He glanced back at Jane and looked into her eyes. Zatera Stri.

  Jane looked around to see Mike and Ciara sitting up and turning to Max; hearing this name spoken in their minds had been just the anchor Jane expected. Morris had turned back to them also, his brow furrowed with new concern.

  Max continued. That is the name by which he was most commonly known, but he’s so far removed from that existence now, I don’t know if it matters anymore.

  “And what is it that he’s planning, Max? What’s he going to do?”

  “He’s starting already.”

  Mike approached from behind them. “What is he starting?” he asked, still groggy.

  Max looked at him. “He’s going to build an edifice—a structure—and use it to reach the Nexus.”

  “What kind of structure?” Ciara asked from behind them. She was standing as she said this, and now she walked toward them, rubbing eyes that were still half closed and laden with sleep.

  “I can’t tell the exact form the object will take. He’s already drawing on the psychic energy from your world.” Max turned back around so that, in the flow of his black cloak, he became a near-silhouette in the golden light of the sun. Then he knelt low to the sand and stared out at the ocean once more. “I’ve tried to see inside his mind, to see his exact plan, but I can’t.” He paused and looked down. “He’s become stronger since entering your world, and now that he has a host, who was extremely powerful to begin with, his power will only continue grow.”

  “How will this happen, exactly?” Jane asked.

  “The one thing I did manage to glean from his well-guarded mind is that he is going to draw the most powerful Ethereals from the city of New York to a nearby location.” Max paused for a moment, and his eyes narrowed as he concentrated. “The best I can tell is that the edifice will be constructed on the ocean, built atop an enormous platform.” Jane knelt next to him and looked into his eyes from a sidelong angle. “Then…he’ll draw on the power of those he has chosen to amplify his own.”

  “And all this is to replace the function of the machine?” Morris asked.

  Max glanced at him and regarded his response in silence, surprised at both the abruptness and accuracy of his answer. “Yes.”

  “You mean he really wants to try to open that vortex again?” Jane asked, incredulous.

  Max took a shallow breath as he looked back at Jane. In his gaze, the answer was clear. “You see, there have been civilizations like yours before, but none with so many powerful Ethereals. He didn’t have this level of psionic energy to work with, and so his methods were always focused elsewhere. This kind of power will surpass the control that the Machine would have given him. Although the Atlantic Object would have presented a much more expeditious option for him, he could never have controlled it without you ceding your will to him, Jane…as you now know quite well.” Max glanced at her and paused before returning his gaze to the ocean. “Once the edifice is built—whatever form it takes—and he uses it to focus the psychic energies he draws to him, he’ll be able to open an interdimensional rift again—one that intersects all reality—and reach—”

  “The Nexus,” Jane said in a low voice. She turned away from his eyes, taking a deep breath and staring at the golden crescents of light that seemed to lick the surface of the small waves as they lapped at the shore. It was the white wash of foam, though, that drew her attention the most. She had resumed her slumped position on the sand, and now drew her left leg underneath her, relaxing. For some reason, the things Max had told her didn’t bother her so much.

  Morris walked over and stood beside her. As she looked up at him, he turned toward her and their gazes met. At that moment, she was forced to take in the gravity of what they had just been told; it was right there on her lover’s face. With one more glance at the ocean, Morris lowered himself and sat next to her.

  Max continued speaking without any further prompt. “The Machine was the most obvious answer for him. It was the most straightforward means to open the gateway he needed. That is, once he had control of it, which was severely restricted by the race that built it.”

  “Hold on a second, Max. What’s the Nexus?” Mike asked.

  Max turned to face Mike, who was standing next to Ciara on his left. “The Nexus—which we once thought to be entirely metaphorical—is the epicenter of creation itself.” Pausing, he looked back at the sea. “At one point in the history of my kind—I mean, the existence I lived once my original
mortal life ended—we thought we may have imagined it, or created it through our collective will…”

  Jane watched as Max blinked slowly, drearily, and paused at the thought.

  “…As something to hope for. We had spent so many millennia wondering what our purpose was. Surely there was something beyond ourselves. Surely there was something, or someone, who had birthed us into existence from our mortal lives, we thought.”

  “You don’t remember the transition?” Ciara asked, frowning slightly.

  “None of us do.”

  “But as it turns out,” Morris said, “this Nexus thing is real, right?”

  “Yes, it’s all too real. The voice, the energy, the mind of creation itself, to where, and from where, all psychic energy and thought flows.”

  “But it’s not something that’s simply revealed,” Jane said matter-of-factly, having been told this before.

  “No. It requires vast amounts of power to reach it.” Max winced as he thought about what he had to say. “Opening a gateway that intersects all worlds—all of reality—is no easy task.”

  “Will it work?” Jane asked. “If he manages to amass enough power and open this portal, will he be able to reach the Nexus?”

  “Possibly. I don’t know.” Max’s gaze slowly scanned the sky and the few bright stars that could still be seen in the dim morning light.

  “What would happen if he managed to find it? This Nexus, I mean,” Ciara asked, urging him forward.

  “I’m not sure. But during our many discussions, we theorized—my contemporaries and I—that his acquisition of the object would result in the assumption of vast amounts of power.”

  “Like you?” Morris asked.

  “No. He’s already like me. Although he is a non-corporeal being in the host body of a human, he can still channel the same power I can in this world.”

  A silence fell over them, punctuated only by the sounds of the small waves at the shore. Max tilted his head toward the surface below, then slowly leaned down to it. He reached out his arm and turned his palm downward as he stared at the sand there. A stream of it rose off the surface in a thin vortex, collecting just beneath his hand. The sand twirled, forming a ululating sphere. When it was a few inches in diameter, the upward flow from the surface stopped and the last few grains disappeared within the small globe. As Max turned over his hand, the pace of the sand picked up. It spun in a rapid motion until individual grains could no longer be detected, and it looked like a swirling ball of liquid. Then, without warning, a blaze of light illuminated the orb from within. An arc of blue-white energy moved from the center of Max’s hand and flowed upward into the sphere. The others held up their hands to shield their eyes. There was a low, cracking sound, like that of thunder and breaking ice. As beams of bright light erupted through the veils that swirled around the orb, this was followed by what sounded like crunching glass.