and they belonged.
Just like he used to.
Cadaverous followed Abyssinia back to her quarters. When she saw him, she sighed.
“Do you mind coming back later?” she asked. “We just had to execute one of the children.”
“I was there,” Cadaverous said. “You handled it well.”
She sat. “Thank you.”
“Do you think they’ll be ready?”
“Of course,” she responded.
“You’re putting an awful lot of faith in a group of scared teenagers,” Cadaverous said. “You have hundreds of followers now – most of whom would be all too eager to engage in some mindless slaughter for you.”
“But it’s not mindless,” Abyssinia said. “There is a point to it all, even if you can’t see it.”
“You could help me see it. You could explain it to me.”
“When you’re ready, I’ll tell you. Is there another reason you’re here, Cadaverous?”
“There is. But, now that I have you alone, I almost don’t know where to begin.” He took a breath. “We believed in you. We brought you back.”
“And I love you for it.”
“We love you, too. I can say that with absolute certainty because, before you, I didn’t know what love was. I knew it as an abstract thing, something other people said. Something other people felt. But your voice in my head, lying on that operating table … that was the voice of love. And I was hearing it for the first time.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.”
“You’re here because of us, and we’re here because of you. Because of the mission.”
“The mission,” Abyssinia said. “Yes.”
Cadaverous hesitated. “Only … only I think the search for your son has distracted you in recent months.”
The good humour drifted from Abyssinia’s face. “Do you indeed?”
“I have to be honest with you, Abyssinia. That’s what love means, isn’t it? Honesty? I feel, since you returned, that your focus hasn’t been on the mission.”
“I see.”
“The rest of us, the ones who brought you back, we’re starting to feel …”
“Yes? Starting to feel what, Cadaverous?”
“Neglected.”
A ghost of a smile. “Huh. Like children, I suppose? Everyone’s vying for the mother’s love, jealous of anyone she dotes on. Is that what you are, Cadaverous? Are you a child? Should you be in First Wave, too?”
He didn’t answer.
“What would you prefer? Would you like it if I spent more time with you, is that it? Would that be enough for you, I wonder? Would that coddle you?”
Cadaverous bristled. “I’m not asking to be coddled.”
“You’re not? Because it seems like you are.”
“You made promises.”
She rose. “You dare make demands of me, Cadaverous Gant? After everything I have given you? After I called you back from death itself? After I gave you purpose? Now you want more? You think you deserve more?”
“I think I deserve the truth!”
Abyssinia was upon him in an instant, pressing him back against the wall, her open hand hovering in front of his face.
“You insubordinate little nothing,” she whispered. “You deserve only what I tell you you deserve. You have grown disillusioned with me, have you? Well, I have grown disillusioned with you, Cadaverous. You are not the man I hoped for. I have watched you shrivel in these last years, ever since your precious Jeremiah fell from that walkway. Your hatred of Valkyrie Cain has turned you from the path I had set you on. All those murderous urges you gave in to when you were mortal? I allowed you to make peace with them, to channel your rage. I calmed the demons in your head so that they no longer control you — and how do you repay me?” She stepped away. “By doubting me. By questioning me. By betraying me.”
“I have not betrayed you!” he snapped.
“You betray me every day!” she shot back. “With every disappointment, you betray me! You were my loyal soldier! My favourite!”
Cadaverous snarled. “I was never your favourite. Smoke was your favourite, and then Lethe, when he came along. I’m always there, but always pushed to the back by the bright and the new. I should be your second. I should be your lieutenant. Instead, I arrange the food for the convicts and the criminals while people like Avatar and Skeiri waltz in and catch your eye.”
Abyssinia shook her head. “Jealousy does not become you, Cadaverous.”
“You’ve kept us in the dark long enough, Abyssinia. We’re starting to feel as if we’re not on this mission you told us about. We’re starting to feel that you’ve lied to us.”
“Get out,” she said quietly.
Tea and biscuits were already laid out when Sebastian Tao crept into the house through the back door.
It was all back doors these days – back doors and skylights and narrow windows and a lot of sneaking around. Dressed as he was – all in black, with the curved beak mask and the wide-brimmed leather hat and the flowing coat – it was difficult to walk down the street, even at this time of night, and not attract curious stares or invitations to fight. Sebastian didn’t like to fight. He hated violence. He’d had enough of that growing up.
He stepped into the living room. “Hello,” he said.
The small group turned, smiling and nodding.
“Welcome, Plague Doctor,” said Lily. “Cup of tea?”
They laughed. Sebastian chuckled politely. They knew very well that he couldn’t take his mask off. Not that he needed to. His suit provided him with all the sustenance he required – although he eyed the biscuits on display longingly. What he wouldn’t give for a taste.
But no. He had a mission.
“Let’s hurry this along,” Tantalus said, standing up from the floral couch. “Some of us have lives to get back to.”
The others went quiet. Tantalus was the unofficial leader of their little group of Darquesse-worshippers, primarily because he lacked any identifiable sense of humour. He just seemed like the kind of man people would take orders from, although Sebastian had yet to witness any actual leadership abilities.
Tantalus cleared his throat. “I hereby call this meeting of the Darquesse Society to order. Blessed be her name.”
“Blessed be her name,” the others echoed.
“We have gazed into the face of God and we found love.”
Sebastian repeated it along with everyone else.
“All right then,” Tantalus said, scowling at Sebastian, “why are we here?”
Tantalus didn’t like Sebastian, and he wasn’t shy about letting it show.
Sebastian nodded to Forby. “Tell them what you told me,” he said.
Forby, a small man with fantastic hair, cleared his throat. “Um, OK, so, the portal – the portal that all these Leibniz people are coming through. The mortal portal, I call it.” He laughed. “Anyway, I’m on the team. The investigating