Sandbags formed a towering wall on either side of us, narrowing the walkway so we had to troop single-file behind Private Molly. She was moving at a brisk pace, shotgun slung on a strap across her front and the light from the flashlight in her hand bobbed as she jogged. Occasionally the beam would sweep over pale, dirt-smudged faces of other Private Mollys hunched at the bottom of the trench. Some were hypervigilant, watching us pass with all the wary dislike of a feral cat. Others just sat with their guns in their laps, staring at nothing in particular. Still more cried.
God my head was a cheery place.
Lara eyed each of the groups we passed with obvious amusement. I half-expected her to produce a tub of popcorn from the deep line of her cleavage and start a running commentary. I had to admit she probably had a point about the theatricality of it all. I'd been psychically roofied and operated on, not sent off to fight the Nazis.
We walked for what felt like hours, staring at fallen soldiers and dodging sucking mud puddles until the path began to broaden. I fell into step beside Lara as the path spilled us into a hub where three central hubs converged. A burlap cover had been stretched over the roof of the tunnel, stifling the light of a handful of lanterns. A trestle table dominated the space and was piled high with yellowed maps. A half-dozen Mollys were hunched over the largest, examining something I couldn't make out. They came to attention as we approached.
"The intruder and the conscious mind have been apprehended as ordered, ma'ams," Private Molly said, heels clicking together as she straightened and gave the war council a crisp salute.
The Molly at the head of the table inclined her head in silent, dignified dismissal. Private Molly turned on one heel, gave Lara a dirty look, and jogged back the way she'd come, disappearing into the gloom.
General Molly regarded us with a solemn frown, gaze flicking between us. There was a weight to those baby blues that mine lacked. They gave the impression of immense age and weariness, despite her youthful appearance. She'd seen too much, done too much, and it showed. I couldn't help but straighten when she rounded the table and crossed over to us.
"I wondered when you'd pay us a visit," she said softly, though her voice managed to carry, even over the continuous chatter of machine gun fire.
"I...I'm sorry?"
It came out more of a question than an apology. What exactly were you supposed to say when your subconscious mind started getting chatty? I was already talking to myself, and begging my own brain for forgiveness was a little self-serving, even for me.
General Molly waved the words away before I'd even finished. "There's no use agonizing over it now. You've become aware of the invasion, and that's what matters. Granted, we'd have preferred you discover the tampering before the programming was tripped, but..." she shrugged. "Nothing for it."
"That's a rather blasé attitude," I said dryly. "You're my subconscious. Shouldn't you all be in a tizzy over this?"
General Molly's lips pursed. "It's unfortunate, certainly, but I'm afraid emotion isn't really my purview. I'm logic and strategy. Besides, we've been under siege for the last six years. Lasciel first, and now this. After a point you become accustomed to it, or you go insane. Even the reactionary id has stopped pitching fits."
She nodded to the opposite end of the table where another Molly stood. She was thin, the bones of her face standing out sharply. Dark circles ringed her eyes, which glittered dangerously. She wore the black uniform of special ops and buzzed her hair short. It reminded me a little of how I'd looked during my time with Nicodemus. I hadn't realized how much weight I'd lost during my time with the Fallen. This version of me looked dangerous, and a touch unstable. The smile she aimed at the General was far from pleasant.
"Watch who you're insulting there, Mrs. Spock. I'm the one who got us out from under Lasciel's thumb if you'll recall. You were bound and gagged from almost the second she moved in. You even sympathized with her from time to time."
General Molly sighed. It seemed like this was a rote argument so familiar it warranted almost no thought.
"You're never going to let that go, are you? Do I have to remind you that we were fifteen at the time? The frontal lobe doesn't reach maturity until the mid to late twenties. She's only now capable of fully anticipating the scope of her actions."
I wanted to snap at them to stop talking like I wasn't here, but came up short when I realized I was pretty much the only one here, excluding Lara. When I glanced over at her I found her watching the exchange with a half-smile.
"This is fascinating. I've met centuries-old beings who aren't aware enough to be capable of this much mental complexity. It's impressive for a wizard your age. You'll be a novel challenge in the future, I'm sure."
Both General and Id Molly bristled at the sound of her voice. The General reached inside her pocket, palming something. A grenade? The signal for a self-destruct failsafe? My Id wasn't as subtle, bringing a rifle to bear the second Lara stopped speaking.
"Shut your mouth, vampire," she snarled.
The General shot a withering look at Id Molly. "She's here to help."
"She's not," another Molly said, voice gone thready with fear. She was hugging the tunnel wall, eyeing Lara like she was about to whip out a machete and do her best Jason Voorhees impression. "She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be here, she's going to hurt us, going to make it worse, she'll-"
"Shut up you sniveling coward," Id Molly snapped. "No one asked for your opinion."
The General pinched the bridge of her nose. "Lower your weapon and stop picking on the amygdala, you psychopath. Distasteful as it is, we need the vampire. If we'd been able to diffuse the bombs ourselves, we wouldn't be in this mess. One trigger is gone, which leaves the failsafe. We know where Peabody stashed the trigger, and now we need help disposing of it."
"Peabody?" Lara and I echoed.
"You know him?" Lara asked.
"Yeah, he was one of the wizards who sprung me from my cell in Edinburgh. He was healing some of the damage Lasciel inflicted." I paused then cursed. "Except he wasn't, right? It was a lie to get me to lower my shields."
"And you fell for it," Id Molly spat. "Stupid. You didn't learn a damn thing from your time with Lasciel, did you?"
Lara made a speculative sound, and it was more appealing than it had any right to be.
"If what you're saying is true, it raises more questions than it answers."
"How so?" I asked.
Her eyes were solemn, her playful smile gone. "Wizards Morgan and Peabody were found guilty of the murder of Senior Council member Aleron LaFortier. It was also revealed that they'd been meddling with the minds of young wardens. Those under a certain age are particularly susceptible to such tampering."
I frowned. "That's terrible, but how is it relevant? Second verse same as the first."
"It is relevant because Warden Morgan used a boon from Titania to evade capture for some time. The Summer Queen will no doubt know of Peabody's treachery by now. So why hasn't she stepped in to ascertain if you'd been affected?"
A chill crept up my spine, and the assembled Mollys shuddered. The amygdala let out a pitiful whimper.
"Titania knew or suspected I was a ticking time bomb," I whispered. "She's working an angle."
Or worse. Maybe Thomas was right. Mab's madness was spreading, the outside corruption spreading from court to court.
General Molly recovered first, shaking herself like a dog shedding water. "The reason is immaterial at the moment. We have to diffuse the failsafe. We can parse Titania's motives later."
Lara gave her an assessing look, then finally nodded. "Where's this failsafe located?"
Id Molly snatched the map from the table, rolling it into a tube before stuffing it beneath her arm. "Behind enemy lines. I'll show you. I'm going to assemble our best. You won't want to go in without backup."
"You know they're all just me, right?"
Id Molly showed her teeth. It wasn't a smile.
"Are you sure?"
And then she jogged away, leaving that ominous pronouncement hanging in the air.