Dearest Mother of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #6)

Dearest Mother of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #6) Page 3

He returned a level look, which seemed to bore into my very soul, as if deciding whether he should kill me now, or simply kick me out of his building. "There is an aura about you, Mr. Slade. A peculiar magnetism that makes me want to trust you."

I almost made a joke about my deodorant, but figured a being like this wouldn't particularly appreciate it. I took a deep breath and put on my best sincere look. "How can I stay out of your way if I don't know what to watch out for? Or are you afraid to tell me because you're really up to no good?"

"In truth, I see little disadvantage to informing you," he said. "Though I must deflate your sense of self-importance first." He stood, and walked to the window, staring out. "You have only a tiny notion of the scale of Daelissa's manipulations, or how many I have defused over the years. Your mind cannot even conceive the complexity of my operations. We are reaching a critical juncture. Others of my kind who survived the Desecration grow stronger with every passing day. Most of them wish a return to the old days. Others simply wish to return home to regain their dwindling sanity."

"Desecration? Are you talking about when the Grand Nexus blew up and husked everyone?"

He nodded.

"I've seen how crazy Daelissa is," I said, not giving him a chance to change the subject. "Are you losing your mind, too?"

"No. Balancing the light with the dark keeps me sane." He clasped his arms behind his back. "The others regard the dark as filthy and won't touch it. That is why they lose their grasp on reality. They refuse to draw upon both essences, even though it happens naturally in our home realm."

I felt myself slipping into confusion, as I usually did when trying to understand the difference between the dark and the light. In my world, it was cut and dry—good was light, and dark was evil. Not to the angels. "What's with the dark and the light with you guys? Darklings, Brightlings—what's it all mean?"

Mr. Gray turned from the window, an amused expression on his face. "Is that not always the question, Mr. Slade? I suppose I should make allowances for one such as you—an entity of three worlds. Part Seraphim, part Daemos, and raised as a human—you are unique. Your sister was raised to believe only in the word of Daelissa, and lacks the perspective you gained." He walked to a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of amber liquid. "Care for a drink, Mr. Slade?"

"I'm underage."

The Seraphim raised an eyebrow. "You see? Human perspective. It is, perhaps, one reason you're such an agent of chaos." He took a sip. "There are two primary essences in this universe: dark and light. Our souls are the containers of this essence, which gives us the true spark of life. Even though the aether in the air around us and in the ley lines beneath us roars with this lifeblood, there is something about the soul that transforms it into rarified form. As aether, we use it to wield magic. As part of a soul, it is something quite different."

I'd made a tenuous connection between aether and the two spectrums. After all, I'd seen plenty of ultraviolet, white, and even gray clouds of aether floating in the air when I switched to my incubus sight. I'd also wondered if it had anything to do with soul essence, given the little I knew about how angels fed. Daelissa had fed on Elyssa once, drawing light essence from her. But I'd seen Meghan feed Nightliss glowing white soul essence as well.

"I'm following you," I said, only partly lying.

He nodded. "Neither the dark nor the light is evil, in and of itself. All of my kind are capable of feeding from either spectrum, but as we age, our bodies naturally take on an affinity for one or the other."

I waited, expecting a shocking revelation. His matter-of-fact explanation left me feeling disappointed. "That's it? Why do Brightlings think Darklings are evil? Why did the Brightlings treat the Darklings like slaves?"

"Quite simply, prejudice," he said.

I thought back to everything I'd been through. To the strange visions I'd suffered, demanding I choose either the light or the dark. His explanation made no sense in that context. In other words, Mr. Gray was hiding something from me. I waffled, uncertain if I should call him out on this. Even if he knew the true meaning behind the whole Dark-versus-Light thing, would he tell me?

Mr. Gray took another sip of his drink. "There is, however, a much grander scale to this, as I'm sure you've realized." His eyes met mine. "The choice in Foreseeance Forty-Three Eleven pointed to a choice between the dark and the light. As Lornicus stated, it is my belief the conditions for the foreseeance have been met. The decision was made. You were not the one who decided."

This was something I already knew, or at least those of us in my extended family had surmised. I'd had a chance to betray Ivy. She'd had a chance to let me die. In both cases, we'd chosen each other. Whether that meant our choices were a wash or not, I had no idea.

He paused, as if letting the import of his words sink in. I wanted to hear what he thought before I said anything.

"Which side did she choose?" I asked.

"As with any foreseeance, it is rather unclear." Mr. Gray finished his drink, and set the glass down on the granite bar countertop. "Though the universe has long waxed and waned between periods where one essence was slightly more powerful than the other, it has enjoyed a remarkable period of relative neutrality."

"Between good and bad?" I asked.

"Good and bad are moral absolutes, Mr. Slade. I thought you understood they bear no connection to the Murk and the Brilliance." Despite his rebuff, his face held no disappointment. "Darklings bear the mark of the Murk. Their wings are ultraviolet. Their magic utilizes the dark spectrum of aether more easily than the light. The Brightlings are the opposite."

"So, we're not talking Yin and Yang here," I said, confused.

He traced the air with a finger, forming a perfect circle of pale light. He drew a line down the center, flicked a hand. One side filled in ultraviolet, the other pure white. "Is this what you imagine the balance to look like?" he said.

I almost blurted out a resounding yes but, miraculously, managed to keep my mouth shut to allow my brain a few extra seconds of processing. I only needed to consider the speaker to realize what he thought the balance looked like. "Everyone carries a bit of the Murk and Brilliance in them," I said. "That would mean we're all mostly gray."

He looked almost as pleased as one of my professors when I managed to say something smart. "Precisely. Too much of one or the other causes imbalance. This causes actions which one might judge as good or evil. Imbalance is imperfection."

"What you're saying is the universe is fifty shades of gray?"

"What I am saying, Mr. Slade, is an oversimplification. These two colors are simply the way our eyes translate the two most primordial forces in the universe." He folded his arms across his chest. "Creation and Destruction."

I almost made a quip about the good versus evil analogy being spot-on, though technically, neither of those forces was good or bad within themselves. "So, which is what?" I asked.

"The Murk creates. The Brilliance destroys," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "The Murk is cold like space, the Brilliance burns like the sun."

"Considering what you and your Brightling pals did when you were in control, I suppose I could see that," I said. They'd nearly wiped out human civilization with their war games. "If the Brightlings are so big into destruction, how'd they manage to build the arches and the Grand Nexus?"

"The Brightlings did not build the arches," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "The Darklings did?"

He shook his head. "The Grand Nexus already existed. We merely found it."

I felt my mouth drop open. "But that would mean…"

"We are not alone in this universe, Mr. Slade."

Chapter 3

Mr. Gray checked his watch. "I'm afraid we've run out of time."

I gulped, and wondered if this was it for me. Then again, why would he go through the trouble of educating me if he only meant to kill me? "I still have questions," I said, deciding to press my luck.

"I'm sure you do. I am undecided about your future." He pressed a button on a phone.

"Yes, Mr. Gray?" asked a woman on the other end.

"Please inform the pilots I will be up to the helipad in five minutes."

"Immediately, Mr. Gray," she said.

"Another reason I'm letting you stay free, Mr. Slade, is this: Though the foreseeance seems to have concluded, it does not mean your presence is inconsequential. You may yet have a role to play. Until I determine what that role is, I am unwilling to cut your thread short or obstruct it."

"Gee, thanks, Methuselah," I said, heaping scorn into my words. During a conversation with Mr. Bigglesworth, Ivy's deceased shape-shifting pal, I'd figured out Mr. Gray's real name. If I'd expected a big reaction from him, he left me disappointed.

"I haven't heard that name for a very long time," he said, without putting any particular emphasis or surprise into his tone. He touched a button on his desk phone. "Lornicus, our guest is ready to depart. Please collect him, and return him home."

"At once, sir," came the golem's nasal voice.

"What's in this for you?" I asked, trying to glean a little more information before Lornicus collected me. "Are you really happy playing human? Or do you enjoy playing the role of fate more?" His talk of snipping threads and manipulating events to suit his purpose struck me as awfully conceited.

"As I said, Mr. Slade, our time has run out. Until I know more, I see little value informing you further."

Someone knocked on the double doors. A woman opened them. "The pilots are ready, sir."

"Very good." He looked at me. "Until the next time, Mr. Slade." Mr. Gray left, closing the doors behind him.

A split second later, the elevator dinged, and an anxious-looking Lornicus emerged. He raised an eyebrow. "You are still alive. I suppose it's a sign things went better than expected."