Ensi stands at the altar where Mana-ma always preaches. He’s looking up at the window. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for someone.
Water has leaked in. I splash through shallow puddles toward him. I have no idea what to do, what to expect. We have no weapons. Once I stopped concentrating on that knife, it ceased to exist again. I try to imagine it, bring it into being. It starts to appear—it’s the same as the murder weapon from the autopsy report at Zenith, the one Tila may have used—but as soon as I almost have a solid grasp on it, it disappears again. The same happens to Nazarin and his gun. The pews shake, as if in an earthquake.
“What have you done?” Ensi asks. He looks almost as he does in the real world, except he’s pale and shaking. There are more lines on his face, ghosts of the one he would wear if he hadn’t waxworked his features. Still, he moves out from the altar to face us, staggering a little, but standing strong.
“I injected you with a virus. When you kissed me.”
“What does it do?” He sounds calculating, rather than afraid. He’s used to being a victor. He won’t give up so easily. The ground shakes again, rumbling, and dust falls from the rafters.
“It’s eating your world. Gobbling it up byte by byte. When it’s all gone, you’re finished.” I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds good. I guess Kim didn’t plan it as a long con, after all. Makes sense. Why take the risk that he’d discover it and destroy the code?
His eyes glint. “Then I can take you with me.”
Ensi moves toward us, smooth and deadly. A long blade appears in his right hand. He jumps over the shallow steps of the altar, water splashing around his feet. The blade is a replica of the one his Queen—I still can’t process that Malka is Mana-ma in another body—used to kill Nuala. The chapel creaks with another violent shudder.
He lunges for me first. I dodge the blade by inches and jump onto the nearest pew to escape. Ensi grabs my ankle and I fall flat, knocking my cheekbone against the wooden pew. Pain flares like a flame, and my breath leaves my lungs in a rush. I taste blood. He drags me toward him and I scrabble away desperately. Far away, my body in the Chair will have begun to bleed as well, I’m sure of it.
I kick back and his grasp weakens. I kick again, pain flaring in my ankle as I hit his torso. Ensi grunts in pain. Gasping, I turn toward him. Nazarin and Ensi roll on the ground, snarling. Nazarin manages to free an arm and punches Ensi, his knuckles glancing along the other man’s cheekbone.
I try to stand, but the chapel shudders. The world seems to fill with warm, dark green muck, like in Mia’s dream. I don’t know if it’s Kim’s code, my fear, or Ensi’s.
The mud laps at my ankles, my knees, my hips. It rises over my head. If I breathe in, the muck will coat my lungs. I can’t see Ensi or Nazarin, but I feel them, close, struggling against the collapsing dream.
I close my eyes, think of all my Meditation training. I push and push, and let go.
TWENTY-NINE
TAEMA
The green muck disappears, leaving dregs of dried mud. I fall to the ground, landing on my injured ankle. I hiss in pain, drenched and cold, spots wobbling in my vision.
The dream is still broken. The chapel still shakes and flickers, except where I focus my eyes. Nazarin and Ensi still fight, both of their faces bloody and beginning to bruise. My head pounds.
I hold on to a pew for support and move toward them, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming in pain.
I can’t move forward another step. It’s as if I’ve met an invisible barrier I can’t cross. Ensi hits Nazarin again, and his head jerks back before he falls to the floor. Ensi’s eyes flash to me, the corner of his mouth curling in triumph. Like me, he has found a measure of control in this broken world. He knows I can’t come any closer. He moves toward me. I struggle, but I’m stuck fast.
“This is my mind. My dream. Your lucid dreaming may be impressive, but you can never hope to be as strong as me. Whatever you’ve done to the code, I can fix it. This night may have had an unnerving start, but I can still have fun with you and your pet detective. I can still hear my little canary sing so sweetly.”
The chapel isn’t wavering as much. It’s almost as if it’s repairing itself. Was this all a ploy, somehow? A trap within a trap?
It can’t be. Ensi is still nervous, licking his lips, his eyes darting from side to side. He furrows his brow, and the blade that he conjured earlier is back. It’s his weapon of choice, like Mia with her scalpel and Malka with her sword. The steel gleams.
Ensi comes closer, until he is scant millimeters from me. He brings up the knife and holds it against my throat. He nicks it, and I wince at the pain. Blood trickles down my neck.
I look to Nazarin, but he can’t help me. What does it mean to be unconscious in an unreal world?
Think, think, think. I try to remember all I learned while in Mia’s Verve world, and when I experienced Ensi’s earlier Test.