VI-Twilight Madness
Nicholas Gryner took a last drag off of his clove cigarette, holding the butt between his fingers as he turned around, frowning slightly.
"You do realize, dear, that all your whining is getting very tiresome." He flung the butt behind him before stepping off the balcony into his suite, closing the sliding glass door on the chill of the San Francisco evening.
The woman chained to the bed strained against her bonds, gray eyes burning with hate and fury as she spat out curses in her ancient language. She fought even harder as Gryner drew closer, ignoring the painful bruises that had already appeared on the coppery skin beneath the manacles.
His lips quirked upwards in a smile as he stood above her, reaching out a finger to stroke her sepia hair. She was beautiful, true, but he knew better than to push that limit… Besides, the power within her was far more alluring than her beauty.
He turned his back to her, another flurry of curses flying his way as he studied the wall of TV monitors before him. He sighed, throwing back a threat of his own in the ancient tongue. He crossed his arms in satisfaction as the woman fell quiet.
Gryner pursed his lips as he studied the newscasters on the screen. The past twenty-four hours had turned into quite a news day. Maps of the Middle East flashed on some of the screens, generals and politicians on others, frightened citizens on one, footage of planes taking off from a carrier deck and bombing victims on a few.
Tensions. Conflict. Standoff. The words ran circles in Gryner's head, inspiring anything but fear.
He turned back to face the woman, his eyes boring into her anger-filled ones.
"I think it's time that we ended our little standoff and broadened the scope of things. Lets say," his finger twirled in the air for a moment, "North Korea. If troops started crossing the DMZ, things could quickly escalate out of control…"
The woman said nothing, her lips pressed together in a thin line, her body stiff in rejection.
Gryner was at the side of the bed in an instant, full of simmering anger. The Smith and Wesson handgun was in his hand in a flash, the muzzle resting against the woman's temple.
"Do it," he whispered through gritted teeth.
The woman trembled as if her mind were resisting some sort of intrusive force, her eyes blazing with even more hatred.
"I don't have to remind you that if I splatter your brains all over this bed, that's it. You won't survive that, here. A million years of life, then bang! Nothing." He leered down at her, shoving the cold weapon against her skin. She barely twitched, looking at him.
"Do it!" he roared. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sound of his voice.
He screamed as he tilted his wrist, pulling the trigger.
Gryner replaced the muzzle beside her head, looking pointedly at the scorched bullet hole in the headboard, inches away from the woman's head.
"Don't think for a second that I'll spare you again. Do. It."
Every muscle in the woman's body clenched as she tried to resist whatever was going on in her head. Then she went limp, her eyes snapping wide open, the chains to her manacles clinking against each other.
Gryner smiled gleefully, straightening as he replaced the handgun in his coat pocket. He faced the TVs, nearly holding his breath as he waited…
Barely five minutes passed until the newscaster on CNN held a hand to her earpiece before relaying her terrible message to the world: fighting in Korea, the DMZ was a battlefield. Another thirty seconds passed before every newscaster was talking hurriedly, tickers along the bottoms of the screens exploding in a frenzy of bold type.
His smile grew as he spared a glance for the woman on the bed, his fingers brushing against the small metal statue in his other coat pocket.
The entire world was rushing unimpeded toward total war.
Behind him, the woman on the bed stared up at the ceiling, unblinking. And for the first time in more than a millennia, the goddess felt helpless.
~~~~~
Lara could hear voices, talking softly just above where she was lying. She thought about opening her eyes, but a gentle thought trickled through her mind, telling her to keep them closed. She followed the suggestion, not really knowing why.
"I wish you'd stop doing that; she knows more than she should. Your actions aren't helping us in any way." An old man's voice, deep and powerful but tinged with bitterness.
"She's entitled to know, especially if we ask this task of her." The voice of the young man from Maddox's bedroom.
"A dangerous task." Another young male voice, full of compassion. "She has already suffered much because of our inadequacies. And such a heavy burden already on her heart, so alone…"
"Ah, but such a spirit. There is fight left in her—if she survives." A female voice, lilting yet strong.
"She will survive, I've seen to that." A man's voice, older than her 'friend's' and firm with conviction yet tempered by a slight worry. "My sister needs to be returned to us."
"And soon. Twilight is drawing near for them all." The old man. "I want you to watch over her, help her when you can. Try to keep her from harm, we will not be able to save her if she is brought to us a second time."
"I will do all I can." Her 'friend' and now, apparently, appointed guardian, sounded firm.
There was a sound like the rustling of cloth and then silence.
Her guardian's voice was close as he crouched beside her. "Listen carefully, Lara. You have to go to Greece and find the key before you can stop this madness." He took a breath. "Now open your eyes, Lara…"
Open your eyes….
The first thing she saw was white, and then a steady beeping.
She looked to her left, catching sight of an EKG. The pieces rapidly fell into place as she looked around. A hospital.
The rustle of cloth drew her attention, and she caught sight of the young man from that night with Maddox, her new 'bodyguard', standing by the door, holding her clothes in one hand.
She could have laughed in pure joy as she sat up, effortlessly sliding from the bed and padding across the room to grab her clothes. She just smiled instead as the man averted his eyes, looking at the ceiling.
"How long have I..?" she asked, her stomach flip flopping at the thrill of wiggling her toes as she laced up her boots.
"Three days of your time," he answered. "Much has happened since then, none of it good. We are running out of time." Lara tapped him on the shoulder and he brought his eyes to hers.
"What's happened…?" she trailed off, questioning.
"Marc, call me Marc for now." He grinned slightly, the glimmer returning to his eyes. "And I'll fill you in on the plane." He paused, opening the door and leading her out into the hall and into the elevator. "That is, if we can still get a flight out of here."
Lara looked at him quizzically as the elevator doors shut, but held her questions. For the moment.
The moment the pair stepped out of the hospital, Marc let go of a mental thread, and the EKG alarm back in Lara's room went off, squealing as the flat line from the disconnected leads appeared. A nurse came racing in, stopping short when she saw the empty bed. She stepped up to the bed gingerly, checking the chart before staring in disbelief at the discarded hospital gown lying on the floor.
Above her head, CNN was showing a map of the world. Some countries were shaded blue, others red, and still others remained unshaded. Photos from a recent rocket attack flashed on the screen, tanks racing past the crumbled mud homes.
While the bewildered nurse ran to get the doctor, while Lara and her companion were flagging down a cab to the airport, the world was picking sides.