White Space

ERIC CRASHED INTO Casey, smashing the smaller boy down against the rocky floor. Casey’s head struck hard; the man-shadow bleeding from his skin swirled and then draped itself over Casey’s bulging eyes. From her place by Rima’s broken body, Emma had the crazy, wild hope that this—the emergence of this other, the shadow—would be enough. But then Casey screamed again, and his voice still belonged to the whisper-man.

There was a pressure around her hand, and she looked down into Rima’s ravaged face. “D-door,” Rima whispered. Bright blood-bubbles foamed over her lips. “Make a door into … into the D-Dark Passages … Eric c-can’t … h-hurry …”

“Emma!” Eric shouted. Casey was thrashing, bucking and kicking, but both the shadow-man and Eric had the smaller boy pinned, and Eric was close enough to touch. The shadow had whatever power a whisper possessed, but Eric was real. He was solid and strong—and more: Eric was the force and the power of love. “Do it now, Emma, do it now!”

“I WON’T LET YOU!” the whisper-man boomed. “I WILL BIND YOU, BLOOD OF MY BLOOD, I WILL BIND—”

Together, then, and that was as it should be. They were linked in space and time and an eternity of words, bound in a single purpose to a solitary hope. Tightening her grip on Rima, she reached for Eric’s outstretched hand. His fingers closed around hers—

And Emma screamed. A stinging red charge, scorpion-bright and viper-quick, bit into her mind, because blood—all their mingled blood—binds.

YOU SEE? The whisper-man boomed through the cavern of her skull. You CAN’T FIGHT ME, EMMA. YOU’RE NOT STRONG ENOUGH, BLOOD OF MY BLOOD, AND I WON’T NEED YOUR BODY. I WILL TAKE WHAT I WANT; I WILL HAVE YOUR ABILITIES. I AM TAKING THEM NOW. YOU FEEL IT, DON’T YOU? MY POWER, MY STAIN SPREADING THROUGH YOUR BODY, AND YOU, BLOOD OF MY BLOOD, I WILL BIND YOU—

Go. Not Rima or even Eric, but the shadow-man, the other whisper, the one concealed in Casey’s body. Hurry, Emma.

And she thought, Push.

The cynosure fired. The purple maw gaped, and she felt the change as the rock thinned and pulled apart, and then the chains of light that were Rima and Eric and Emma and, yes, even Casey’s many colors flared to life—but there was a faint smear of red that Emma knew.

Bode? A jolt of surprise and joy. Bode! Is that—

In part. I am Battle, and what remains. His secret, and gift. The shadow-man’s thoughts were as airless as the fading images of a distant dream. Hurry, Emma. You don’t have much time.

She saw what it meant, and felt it, too. A seeping black stain was working its way through their chain, because it had Casey and so did Eric. So did they all. A whisper left a stain, and they were all bleeding, their blood mingling because they were willing to sacrifice for one another. They were willing.

Emma! It was Eric. The blue and gold of their mingled chain pulsed with urgency. Go, Emma, go! Break this place wide open, and do it now, Emma, do it now!

She pushed, and the mirror-room groaned under the effort. All of a sudden, a door blistered and broke open in a great, convulsive shudder as a glistering bolt of light, more powerful than the hottest sun, erupted from the cynosure. A nanosecond later, the Peculiar exploded, shattering in a blistering halo of energies—

2

AND THEN THEY were through and falling fast into somewhere, somewhen, completely new.

It was like nothing that had come before. There was light, not only the brilliant path laid by the cynosure but the hard, bright diamonds of a crowded galaxy. Those must be the many worlds and times of the Nows, and this, the Dark Passages, a hallway with infinite branch-points. Above, below, all around, the way spread itself in a dizzying cluster of galaxies, and they rocketed through, sweeping past worlds; past doors and realms and an infinity of Nows. Choose a door, any door, and push; pop onto the White Space of another story, a different timeline, a new—