Song of the Day | History Eraser - The Merindas | Spotify | YouTube
When Soda cracked her eyes open again, they were crusty with blood and debris. Every part of her ached, and several deep gashes felt like hot brands were being pressed into her. In fact, she recalled with a wince, hot coals had showered onto her at one point. While she mentally took inventory of her battered body, she squinted up from where she was laying, and realised she was surrounded by people. They seemed to be arguing. To one side was Rowan, standing next to a large man with a ginger beard she didn’t recognise, wearing track pants that were about three sizes too small and nothing else. On the other side were Feds in suits. The sounds approached her slowly through the fog.
“We all felt it! There was a major temporal event just now!”
“The Enclave will not have you dictating a narrative until we have established some facts!”
“Evangeline tried to destroy the world and Soda stopped her! That’s a fact!”
“With our main witness dead, you have very little to offer here!”
“And what are we then, pork chops?”
“The epitome of unreliable witnesses!”
Gingerly, Soda patted the strange man’s foot to indicate that she might not be as dead as previously imagined. He screamed in horror and recoiled, then cursed and leaned down close to her. He had a broad, handsome face and crinkly green eyes that looked very familiar…
“All the whores in Hell! Soda! You’re alive!”
“…Red?” She croaked.
“Yes lass! Don’t you remember?”
He was kneeling down close now, laughing incredulously. She smiled and then winced as her lip split some more. He brushed her hair off her face, and then laughed again as tears dripped into his beard and onto her cheek.
“Evangeline?” Rowan bent down and fixed Soda with an intense stare. Soda could see the top of Rowan’s right hand, and the Hand of Fate tattoo glowed there briefly.
“Dead,” said Soda softly, though she hadn’t meant to. It just came out. She tried again. She’s safe, she tried to say, but it came out, “she’s dead”. She put her hand on Rowan’s and looked pointedly at the tattoo. Rowan glanced down at it, then nodded in understanding.
“Good,” she murmured.
One of the Enclave suits’ faces appeared over hers. “Soda Jones, I demand to know what happened here!”
She croaked something they didn’t hear, so they leaned closer.
“You’re… welcome,” she wheezed. “No problemo…just saved…all your arses and… the Covenant…”
Big Red made himself even bigger, blowing out his chest, and boomed: “GET BACK! Give her some room you scum sucking sons of whores!”
Which, of course, sent everybody rushing over to see. A riot of commotion rippled out as word spread she was still alive. Everyone seemed to be temporarily forgetting which uniform they were wearing. Talk about a weird house party crowd.
After that, things got blurry.
Someone was gently stuffing Soda into the shower on a stool. She was vaguely aware of aprons, and scrubs in a bright dotwork pattern. Hands were lovingly holding her, murmurs in her direction told her things were going to be fine, everything was fine. Then some brisk discussion of dressings, and the white hot flash of alcohol wipes over fresh wounds. That was too painful so she blacked out again.
Someone had put fresh sheets on her bed, and put her in it.
“Drink this pet,” said a familiar voice.
“North Star?” She mumbled.
“You can call me Norm,” she thought he might have said, as she drank some tea and dribbled it on herself.
She slept heavily and didn’t dream.
When she woke up next, Rene Mwangi was sitting in a chair next to her bed. In deference to the Brisbane heat, he was wearing a pastel pink linen suit, his white shirt scandalously unbuttoned. He had one leg crossed loosely over the other, and was reading an old book that looked like it had been plucked from Frank’s office. Soda sighed heavily and he glanced up over a pair of rimless half moon glasses.
“Miss Jones. Welcome back.”
“One day, I’m going to catch you in your jammies all sleepy and rumpled. And I’m going to make you feel untidy and unprepared,” she grumbled hoarsely.
He pursed his lips and closed the book. “I sincerely doubt that, but you may enjoy your victory, should you ever earn it.”
“Is Gigi okay?” Soda asked after a long struggle to sit upright. She touched her face gingerly but found her nurses had done a very good job at patching her up.
The Patron paused for so long Soda began to worry. But then he gave a small nod.
“Loup was able to get to her in time,” he said. And then, after another long pause, he added, “thank you.”
“I think,” said Soda with a crooked grin, “I think this means you might owe me one, eh? Is that why you’re here alone?”
“One of the reasons, yes. I will not tolerate such a personal debt. It jeopardises my role as Patron.”
“Sweet, does that mean I get to ask you a favour?”
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I have an offer to make you, and it’s the only offer you will receive. So you will take it, and consider the debt paid.”
“I dunno if that’s how it’s supposed to work!”
“Here is the offer,” Mwangi continued. “You will not be charged for your various crimes, nor will you be held legally responsible for the contents of this house. Your friends will also receive pardons.”
“Wow. Stop, your gratitude and generosity is overwhelming.”
“This is a significant concession that cost me political capital to secure. There are plenty who assume Rowan and associates are all guilty somehow.”
“That’s not fair!”
“How quaint. Your naivety is endearing.”
“You’re a cold motherfucker.” She thought about her friends and sighed. “Does it include the siblings?”
“You mean the Sevenkin?”
“Lune and all the rest.”
Mwangi frowned.“They have their own rules, very generous ones already, which they have broken repeatedly. They ought to be put in their places.”
“You ought to be put in your place!”
His eyes flashed dangerously, and Soda felt invisible power wash around the room. She clutched at her neck, but the Stone was gone.
Mwangi smiled mirthlessly. “Oh yes, no goddess to protect you now, and your ambrosia seed is worn out entirely. You might want to watch your mouth from now on.”
Soda scowled, but it was to disguise a sudden stab of fear. She vowed to get stronger. He wouldn’t be able to threaten her forever.
But he was already sighing, like he was in a boring meeting. “You’re a petulant lout, but you’ve been useful, and that has value. The Sevenkin will be reprimanded but not imprisoned.” He paused. “There’s also a cash bonus.”
“Heeeeey, maybe you’re alright!”
“If you accept the cash bonus, you will be considered an employee of House Orleans.”
“Oh! I don’t uh… no offence but… man. How much is the bonus?”
He told her, and she gritted her teeth together. That was.. a lot of money. But the voice of Frank echoed in her chest as a warning. So much money! Too much money. She wasn’t ready to be bought by them so quickly, and that kind of money always came with further obligations.
“Thank you for your generous offer,” she said carefully, “but I can’t accept that money, or employment from House Orleans. At the current time. Thank you.”
“Are you sure Jones? Last chance,” he said smoothly, but was that a flicker of a smile?
“You’re the devil.”
“You are lucky I am not,” he said. “The other thing I need in exchange for your rare unfettered freedom is your agreement on what went on here, and its implications for the Covenant. Our tests show the Covenant is still intact. Is that correct?”
“As far as I know.”
“And Evangeline Lorenze has perished?”
“Yes.” I guess that’s the narrative Fate is going with anyway.
“What did you see beyond the veil, Soda Jones?” He said it suddenly, hypnotically, his voice ringing with magic. Soda’s body became rigid, and though she didn’t know it, her eyes flooded with golden light. She spoke against her will, words spilling out in a harsh monotone:
“The ordeal must be experienced, it cannot be told,” she intoned. “The bond will not be broken.” Then it was over. She sucked in a big gasp of air. “That was unpleasant!” She said indignantly. “What just happened?”
“What I was anticipating.”
“Have you seen that before?”
“No, but I’ve read about it. The Hand of Fate. Fascinating. This means the Enclave could not torture an answer out of you even if they wanted to. And some definitely want to. People will want answers about what has happened. So we shall give them one.”
Soda rubbed her face, then winced at various tender spots. “Right. What are you going to say?”
“Evangeline Lorenze was possessed by an evil spirit and criminally insane when she crossed the threshold.”
“Not even a lie.”
“Everyone came together to finish the ritual.”
“Also mostly true.”
“The door closing cast a powerful healing effect across the area, healing all those involved, including the mutated New Brigade members, and the many killed in battle.”
“That was me though!”
“And do you think you’ll get a moment’s peace if people know that? We’ll be casting a strong holding hex across everyone who was present here to prevent further discussion of the battle. And we’ll be working an emergency clause in the Covenant that creates a sort of forgetting in the general public. The Enclave prevailed, the tear was sealed, the Outsiders present have been generously compensated.”
“Are the centaurs and all the other Diaspora going to be mad that the Covenant wasn’t broken?”
“Yes, another mess to clean up. So if you’ll excuse me. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Stay out of trouble.” He stood as Soda glared at him balefully, but she was distracted by her bedroom door opening.
Loup entered the room, smoothly bearing an old-fashioned service tray with a silver lid. In his other hand he shook a folding table till its legs popped out, and expertly arranged it all on Soda’s bed. He poured some coffee, and removed the lid. Underneath was a pile of hash browns and silky soft scrambled eggs, like the kind you might order from the diner in heaven. Soda sighed and breathed in the smell of fried potatoes.
There was a small folding card that just said:
Cheers – Gigi
“Nice, tell her thanks a bunch,” she said to Loup, who nodded once, sharply, then left in a small puff of hearthfire smoke smell.
“My daughter is a rare gem,” the Patron said as he made to leave the room. “I don’t trust you. Stay away from her.”
Once they’d gone, Soda noticed a little tube under the heavy plate’s lip, and found a pre-rolled joint inside, labeled ‘El Presidente’. She laughed, then wheezed. Her chest hurt.
THE END! Chapter Twenty-four: Cleaning Up
Unreliable witnesses, all the whores in hell, eggs from the diner in heaven