Chapter 11: The Rolling Stone

Roche quietly turned his face away. He understood why this had to be done, and he knew Jodie had brought it on himself. Compared with his crimes, having a few fingernails pulled was hardly a punishment at all. But the sight still made Roche uncomfortable.

“My Lord, please save me…”

Jodie sobbed and begged for salvation. Koin took the opportunity to shove the pliers into his mouth and wrench out a front tooth. Jodie screamed. Koin moved on to the next one, the jaws of the pliers rocking back and forth against the tooth.

The pain became so overwhelming that Jodie lost his grip on reality. He began crying for his mother. At times like this, people seemed more likely to call for their mothers than for gods or lovers—or perhaps, in most people’s hearts, a mother was the closest thing to an all-powerful god.

“Pathetic. Do you know who put you in this situation? Your dear mother, that’s who.” Drake’s voice was flat, but his words struck like thunder.

“What?” Jodie looked stunned. So did Roche.

“It doesn’t take much thought to realize that no one could enter this house without finding out about the basement and all the filth here. Rachel even invited PAA in herself. Her excuse was that she’d heard noise in the heating pipes. It’s ridiculous. I don’t think she was tired of living or planning to take a few irrelevant field agents down with her in a last-ditch suicide play. It’s more likely she knew there was no hope of raising a White Flame and had learned through some channel that her project was about to be exposed. So she sacrificed a pawn to save the rest of the board.”

“That way, all she has to say is that her children went astray and she failed to discipline them properly. Besides, you’re an adult now, aren’t you?”

“No! I’m not!” Jodie shouted, baring two bloody holes in his gums. “Dad said you’re an adult when you lose your teeth for the third time and your canine teeth grow in!”

“By your logic, Koin must be the most childish person in the world.”

“Hey, I can still hear you,” Koin protested.

“Think about it. Think hard about whether you want to keep living inside the lies they built for you.”

Jodie stared around in panic. No one came to save him—not even the father and mother who’d favored him most. There were only three strangers here, three strangers who were cruelly hurting him. Jodie didn’t think he’d ever hurt them too. That had been self-defense. His father had said so, just like that time before.

Lulu was screaming in the first-floor hall, all because a brightly colored bird had fallen down the chimney.

“Look how beautiful it is!” Lulu stroked the bird’s splendid feathers. It seemed injured, and only weakly endured her touch. Jodie snatched it out of her arms, snapped its neck, then stuffed it into the fireplace and burned it to a crisp. Lulu cried and threw a tantrum, rolling around on the floor.

That night, Father praised Jodie. He said Jodie had done his duty and protected the family. Jodie always knew what was best. Lulu was still crying, and she got a thorough scolding.

But now, no one came to praise him. No one even came to save him. The blond man calmly pried two more canine teeth from his mouth.

“Fast track to adulthood,” he added with a laugh.

It hurt so much. Blood and saliva poured uncontrollably from Jodie’s mouth, soaking his skirt. He couldn’t believe Mom and Dad had abandoned him just like that. If anyone was going to be abandoned, it should be his useless sister, shouldn’t it? But no matter how he looked at it, everything seemed to be exactly as the black-haired man had said. They’d thrown him away.

They’d thrown him away along with the meaning of his life so far. He’d only done those horrible things because he wanted his parents to praise him—snapping a bird’s neck, refusing to let Lulu read his book, tying people to the altar and offering them to his god.

Jodie abruptly stopped screaming. A despairing silence took its place, like a crying baby growing into a child suffering from learned helplessness.

Koin waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? You still with me?”

Trembling, Jodie buried his face in his arms. “I was only doing what they told me to do. It was all Mom and Dad. They taught me to burn people alive and kill outsiders.”

Koin feigned surprise. “Ohhh, so that’s how it was.”

“Oh, right. You still haven’t answered my other question.” His voice suddenly turned level, cool, and emotionless. “Did you receive a divine blessing?”

Jodie nodded, then shook his head. With his defenses shattered, he had no interest in fighting back. He told them the truth plainly.

“No. I can only get one temporary use of a superpower through a sacrifice.”

“Like—”

He didn’t get to finish. A bullet blasted his head apart.

“Go to hell, you rotten, motherfucking piece of shit!”

Nunnally stood in the doorway, her body covered in burn blisters. She swore furiously, dropped the matchlock rifle in her hand, then pulled out something else: an RPG rocket launcher.

An RPG.

Never mind how she was still alive—was that really a weapon to bring into a cramped room? Did she mean to blow them all into the sky?

“Nunnally, calm down!” Roche hurried toward her. “Jodie’s already dead!”

“I know he’s dead. Oh, right. He’s dead as hell.” The burns had twisted her face into something hideous, like a demon crawling out of hell. “You think I was swearing at him? Stop, Roche. Take one more step and I’ll blow you away too.”

Roche froze. Nunnally held the rocket launcher, but something bright shimmered in her eyes.

“Why? What are our lives worth to you people? Disposable takeout containers? You use them once, then throw them away?”

Koin slowly turned around. There was not the slightest trace of a smile on his face. His voice was as cold as a machine.

“You’d better not waste the chance Nangong bought for you.”

“Wait, wait. What happened?” Roche shouted, his head aching. He had no idea how things had gotten so messed up so quickly.

Nunnally sniffled. “Ask that blond bastard.”

Contrary to what many people imagined, the Linvanx Family estate wasn’t nestled in a quiet, beautiful neighborhood. It had no smooth green lawns glistening with dew, no neatly trimmed privet hedges. Instead, the gloomy estate huddled on the summit of a barren mountain in the countryside, more than six miles outside the city.

Though it was summer, the place was still swept by a cold gray wind. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain to herself, Pester had parked halfway up the mountain, on a patch of relatively level ground, then walked back up the steps along the road.

The house was just as she remembered it. The iron gates were locked, and she hadn’t told anyone she was coming home anyway. Pester used her key to open the heavy iron padlock on the chain. As she stepped inside, she noticed the low mossy grass growing between the stones of the front steps.

The house itself was just as unchanging as ever: low, with unusually thick stone walls and windows so narrow they barely let in any light. It looked like an ancient wedge driven deep into the mountainside.

Her high heels struck the wooden floor with an unusually loud click, each step falling like the heavy blow of a judge’s gavel.

The head of the household, old Mr. Linvanx—Demont Linvanx—turned away from the window. He really was in a wheelchair, one side of his face strangely slack from his stroke. His red hair had long since turned silver-white, but his eyes still blazed with life. Anyone would have said the old man must possess a fierce will to live, and that death was still many years from catching him. But Pester knew the light in his eyes meant more than that.

Her adoptive father’s eyes glimmered with something otherworldly, like the creature from legend that fed on human blood and flesh and haunted graveyards.

A bolt of lightning split the sky, and for an instant the room was as bright as day.

In the reflection of the glass, the same light gleamed in Pester’s eyes.

Her father had taught her many things. Some could be learned from books, and some could not: painting, chess, military strategy, etiquette, the meaning behind what people left unsaid. When she and her father sat together at the desk, Roche was always running around. He preferred to spend the afternoon watching ants carry things in the front yard rather than staying in the gloomy, oppressive house.

But Pester hadn’t learned all those tedious things just to please him. She’d always been quiet by nature, a gloomy child who rarely showed any emotion. Only she knew how much fervor had welled up in her as she studied. Countless times, she’d stared at the chessboard and imagined the future. In that future, the pieces she moved wouldn’t be cold, mindless wooden toys—and her board wouldn’t be confined to such a tiny square.

Now it was time for everything those years had built to bear fruit.

“From this moment on, no one can stop history, Father.”

The thunder only came then, low and unending, like a giant rolling a boulder across the sky. Once it began to roll, it would never stop—not until one day it reached the end of the world, where the sweet seawater gathered into a wall.

And Escher had been no more than the first, insignificant push that set the boulder rolling.

Earlier, she’d called Koin and ordered him to do what should have been done long ago. But, she’d warned him, “Don’t tell Roche. He’ll mess things up.”

Roche was standing there, staring blankly at the hedge. A quick glance was all it took to see that he’d spotted the crazy Escher girl. She thought she was hiding behind the hedge where no one could see her, panting as loudly as a horse. Pester had to put real effort into hiding her disgust with the girl and her family.

“Got it, ma’am. You really do commit to the act, don’t you? It’s so much trouble I ought to ask you for a raise—deeper.” The last word was clearly directed at the person beside Koin. Drake mumbled something back, the words hard to make out but unmistakably unfriendly.

Pester couldn’t be bothered with Koin. All she needed was for him to do his job. If anyone asked, he had his own explanations to spin, one minute talking about “side income,” the next about “blowing off steam.” He might even call it a test of obedience.

“I’m not asking for much,” Koin had said, entirely unapologetic. “Pay me, and I’ll get you into PAA. Otherwise, you can go tend the boiler. Fair trade, isn’t it?”

But Drake, who was already six figures in debt, didn’t have the money. So Koin took something else instead.

“Don’t go too far. I already had his hiring paperwork ready. Try messing him up, and see what happens.” As she spoke, Pester walked toward the hedge. Roche noticed her and jumped, but she didn’t call him out. She rather enjoyed it. “Go on back. Don’t keep everyone waiting. Honestly, no matter where you are, people sneaking around behind everyone’s backs are all pretty much the same.”

“Is that so? Sounds like your place is a courtyard full of sins too,” Koin drawled from the other end of the phone.