Disclaimer: Victorious is owned by Dan Schneider; "Green Grow the Rushes, O" is owned by Robert Burns (who, having died 215 years ago, is unlikely to sue – but it never hurts to take precautions).
Present Day
Beck Oliver considered himself a patient man, and he certainly knew that all his friends saw him as such. But right at this moment, he was truly down to his last nerve.
Ever since he and Jade had blundered into Trina, the obviously panicked girl had not. Stopped. Talking. Not for a moment. He hadn't thought he would ever find someone who could outdo Cat in the chatterbox department – but then, this trip had been nothing if not full of surprises.
"So, I'm thinking it could have been an alien, maybe, or a ghost, or a thing from another dimension – there are other dimensions besides the ones we can see, right? I read that somewhere – or a robot, some kind of machine – I'm not sure it could think for itself, not really, it was more like it was following somebody else's instructions – I don't know why I'm saying that, it's just a guess – but it's okay to guess, right? I mean, we need to figure out what it was if we're going to fight it, don't we? I wish I had a gun. Well, maybe not – I've never fired a gun, and I don't know if I would be any good at it; my dad always says – said – that 'they pack a hell of a recoil,'" (she imitated her father's deep voice) "and it's gotta be worse for me than for most people, because I've already got carpal tunnel syndrome. And the bullets might just pass through it anyway – or through them, if there's more than one – oh, God, what a scary thought…"
"Trina!" Beck let go of the shopping cart crammed with tinned goods that he was pushing and turned to face the older girl. "Could you please just-"
He stopped; for he saw her eyes now, for the first time. While there was worry in them, there was also determination, and the crackling energy of someone whose mind is racing too quickly for the rest of the body to keep pace. She thinks out loud, he realized. That's how she operates. She's not babbling – she's planning, mapping contingencies. We should all be doing that right now.
I've sorely underestimated you, Trina Vega.
Jade, apparently, was not so forgiving. "I swear to God, Vega, one more word out of your mouth and this can of baked beans is going where the sun don't shine-"
Beck quickly seized her wrist. "Calm down, baby. Trina, why don't you hold off until the whole group can hear what you have to say? It's important that we all know what we're dealing with."
"Okay, okay. You're the voice of reason, as usual." Her countenance relaxed into an almost-smile – then instantly hardened again as her eyes locked on Jade. "Did you call me 'Vega'? I thought that was your name for Tori, not me."
"Yeah, true. Okay, from now she's 'Vega', you're 'Vega Junior', how's that sound?"
" 'Junior'? I'm the older sister!"
"Words cannot express how little I care."
They resumed their forward march, Jade and Trina bickering all the way. Beck's stomach had begun to growl terribly, but he couldn't honestly say that he was looking forward to dinner. Without electricity, natural gas, refrigeration, or even running water, culinary options were becoming increasingly limited. Fortunately, they had found a community garden that would supply their need for fresh vegetables for the time being; but meat, for one, was only a memory. The lack of readily available citrus fruits also worried Beck; vitamin C deficiency and scurvy would become a problem before too long, and once their immune systems were compromised, there was no telling what sicknesses might follow. He silently vowed to find a pharmacy tomorrow-a chemist's, he instantly corrected himself-and scour the shelves for multivitamin supplements.
Trina had brought up another difficulty: weapons. They'd never bothered to arm themselves before – with no living creature in (at minimum) a fifty-mile radius, self-defense had seemed a non-issue – but they could no longer afford to be so careless.
Maybe, in some strange way, this would be good for them all. As interpersonal tensions grew and squabbles became more frequent over the last couple of weeks, Beck had begun to fear that their little group was losing cohesion; nothing would put a stop to that as effectively as the need to face a common enemy. If nothing else, no one would ever have the luxury of wandering off on his or her own again, and…
Oh, no.
"Tori."
Jade snorted angrily. "What about Little Miss Perfect? Are you daydreaming about her now?"
"We left her alone, and she's injured. If that thing comes after her, she won't stand a chance. We need to get back to base. Now."
"Oh, my God," said Trina. She broke into a jog, then, realizing Beck and Jade were slowed down by pushing their heavy loads, turned back and snapped, "Leave the damn food for now! We can come back for it in the morning!"
"Oh, fine! I don't mind starving!" Jade made a great show, as she abandoned her cart in the middle of the road, of being irritated at the disruption to their routine. But Beck, who knew her as well as she knew herself, could sense the genuine fear she was feeling; and once she began to run, he and Trina suddenly found themselves hard put to keep up.
Too breathless to speak now, they passed silent, lightless houses, forlorn bus shelters strewn with rain-soaked newspapers, and long stone walls which seemed, in the swiftly gathering darkness, to conceal any number of horrors. Never before had the candles burning in the windows of Leighton House been so welcome a sight.
Beck threw open the front door and cried, "Tori? Are you all right?" Please, God…
To the surprise of all three of them, it was the soft, steady voice of André that responded: "We're in here."
They went through into the remarkable room known as the Arab Hall. The house's first owner and namesake, Lord Leighton, was a passionate lover of all things Eastern, and he had decorated this space with marble columns, painted tiles, and an extravagant golden chandelier, to match the homes he had visited in his journeys through Syria and the Levant. In the center of the mosaic that covered the floor was a recess for a fountain – inoperable now, of course, but still peaceful and comforting to look upon. By unspoken common consensus, it had become, the very first day they settled here, the "hearth" around which they all would gather when serious matters needed to be discussed.
A great window on the north wall was covered with metal latticework that permitted only a few streaks of red twilight to fall on the cushioned window seat before it. Here, surrounded by candles, were Tori and André – Tori lying down with her head in André's lap, he sitting upright and stroking her hair. And he was singing to her – a beautiful tune, at once sweet as silk and painfully melancholy:
"Green grow the rushes, O,
Green grow the rushes, O,
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,
Spent them on the lassies, O…"
Leighton, Beck recalled, had been a Pre-Raphaelite painter, fascinated, like all the other members of that circle, with capturing fleeting moments of intense sentimentality. He would surely have loved this little tableau – the knight, home at last from the wars, with his fair maiden by his side.
On the west wall, two pilasters flanked an exquisitely carved wooden screen, beneath a tiled frieze with verses from the Qur'an. Cat and Robbie were on their knees in front of this screen, playing – Beck couldn't suppress a chuckle – jacks. There were times he truly envied Cat's ability to draw endless joy from the simplest of childish pursuits. Sinjin, as always, stood apart, in a shadow-draped corner, silent and unmoving.
It never failed to amaze Beck how differently two people could react to the same emotional stimulus. Sinjin was every bit as broken as Cat was – perhaps more so, if his condition when they found him on the sidewalk that first awful morning was any indication – but where the little redhead made her pain crystal-clear to the world through almost theatrical outbursts of anguish, Sinjin had withdrawn completely into himself. He spoke – but only if spoken to first, and then in clipped monosyllables; he did as he was told without complaint – but showed no initiative of his own. It was as though some demonic hand had reached into him and scooped out all his vitality, leaving a hollow shell that might crumble at the slightest touch.
"Welcome back, y'all. Good hunting today?" said André, as Tori raised herself into a sitting position.
"Bad choice of words," snapped Trina.
"JAAAAADDDDDE!" The ninety-pound rocket that was Cat Valentine dashed into Jade's arms and nearly knocked her flat. "I missed you so much!"
"Uh, Cat? You're the one who wandered off without telling anybody where you were going – not me. Remember?"
"That doesn't matter anymore, silly. We're back together now! That's what counts!"
"Right, sure, whatever. So, did you just get bored and decide to come back?"
"No," and a single tear appeared at the corner of her eye. "I was far away and alone and scared. But André found me. He saved me."
Looking up over Cat's shoulder, Jade mouthed, "Thank you." André responded with an almost imperceptible nod.
Beck realized someone was still missing. "Where's Sikowitz?"
Hunched over his jacks, chin in hands, Robbie answered, "I ran into him around noon. He said…he said he had somewhere to go. He wouldn't be back until tomorrow. And I shouldn't follow. None of us should. He made that very clear."
"Dammit," Beck growled. "Just what we need – somebody else putting himself in the line of fire."
"What's the big deal?" asked Tori. "He'll be fine by himself, unless he does something stupid, like-"
"Like falling down a flight of stairs and breaking his leg?"
"Yes, thank you, Jade." Tori flushed a bright crimson. "All I mean is, there's nothing dangerous out there…right?"
Beck drew a deep breath. The others weren't going to like what they were about to hear – not one bit. "Guys, Trina has something to tell you. Everyone gather 'round, please. I'll light the fire."
By the time Trina finished her tale, dusk had given way completely to the iron grip of night. A waning moon shone amidst a canopy of stars – more numerous and clearer to behold than they had been in centuries, now that they no longer had to compete with the ambient glow of millions of electric lights in the city below. Despite several trips to the woodpile for kindling, and the blankets in which they had all wrapped themselves, the little group was chilled to the bone.
When Trina had fallen silent, Tori, without speaking, rose, hobbled over to her side of the fire, and embraced her tightly.
"Wow," said Cat. "You were so incredibly lucky that you heard that voice warning you."
André nodded. "You've got some good instincts in you, girl. Almost gettin' into Spider-Sense territory there."
"I think it was more than that," Trina said slowly. "I think that warning came from outside my mind. Someone else was there. Someone watching over me."
"Oh, wonderful! So now you're hallucinating monsters and angels! Can you whip me up a unicorn with a saddlebag full of candy while you're at it?"
"Jade? Hush." She seemed about to make a retort, but, suddenly realizing that Beck's command hadn't been in jest, pursed her lips tightly instead.
Everyone waited for Trina to make her inevitable angry outburst against Jade – but, to their amazement, they realized she had instead begun to cry. "I'm not hallucinating. I'm not crazy. Please – we're all in danger! You have to believe me!"
"We do," said Robbie. "At least I do."
"We all do," said Beck, looking meaningfully at Jade. "And I, for one, hope there really is somebody who's got our backs, because we're going to need all the help we can get. We don't even know what this thing that chased you is, or what it wants – "
"To cleanse the Earth."
Sinjin's voice was as unexpected and startling as the crack of a rifle. Beck turned to face him where he stood in the shadows. "What do you mean? How do you know?"
"That's why they came in the first place. To rid the planet of the vile infestation that is mankind. I know – I saw it. They chose me to witness, so that I could become the prophet of their glory."
Beck felt a distinct unease at the back of his mind. "Sinj, buddy, you're not making sense."
"Of course you can't understand. You haven't yet been enlightened like I have. But you will be. You all will be. And very soon, too. You see, they're going to finish what they started."
As the flickering firelight swept over his face, his lips twisted into a hideous parody of a smile.
"Hail, purity. Hail, oblivion. Hail, the new masters of the world."
