by

Yanick Champoux (38%)

Lee Watts (18%)

Josip Nað (17%)

Michel Lacombe (16%)

Dorian (4%)

goldkngt55 (3%)

Andrew Avila (2%)

Marten (1%)

Oliver (1%)

Part 23

Yanick Champoux (20/12/2001)

Magdalena's eyes snapped open. Her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Her throat was too dry, her tongue too thick. Panting like a wounded animal, she waited for the icy hand of terror to loosen its grip on her heart.

Another bloody nightmare? came the voice in her head. The Kraken again? Sweet mercy. Can't you give it a rest? People are trying to sleep, in here.

"I can't help it," croaked Magdalena. "It was so real, so vivid..."

Yeah, yeah. I know. I saw parts of it. The voice climbed a few octaves, becoming a cruel parody of Madgalena's own voice. 'Oh no! A big monster with tentacles! It's going to eat me and the ship I'm in. Help!'

Magdalena closed her eyes. "Well, can it?"

Excuse me?

"Could a Kraken come after us?"

Hell. Don't you listen to your own dreams? Of course it will not. Gargoyles repeal Kraken. Which means any ship that has you on-board has nothing to fear. Of course, it might not stop them if they are hungry enough, but I doubt anything could get hungry to that point. I mean, starvation is not so bad a faith when you--

Demuel's voice stopped. Magdalena was crying. Tears were spilling from her open eyes as she was biting her lips in a vain effort to stifle sobs.

Uneasiness washed over Demuel. In normal circumstances, he would have shrugged and walked away from his victim and her fountain impersonation. Something he was no longer at liberty to do. To make things worse, her feelings and her crippling sense of despair were so strong there was no way to ignore them, no way to shut his mind to her pain.

Why are you crying? he asked. And as he wasn't getting any answer, he repeated again, his tone almost gentle. Why are you crying?

"MY WHOLE LIFE'S A NIGHTMARE!" she screamed at the empty room. "I killed a Vorox. I'm a criminal, a murderer . My life with the Reeves is over. I'll never be able to return home. My body's been filled with techonocratic devices and a fucking bastard is squatting in my mind. Yes, I'm a stupid girl. Yes, I'm ugly. Yes, I'm a boring, frigid bitch. But I never wanted any of this. I was just on my way to a blind date. Was that so great a sin? WAS IT?" Magdalena curled into a tight little ball, crying her soul away.

Demuel remained silent for a time. When his voice came to be heard, it was strangely subdued.

You're not stupid. Nor a frigid bitch.

Magdalena shook her head. "That's not what you were saying earlier."

Forget what I said. I didn't mean it.

"Unlike now?" snarled Magdalena. "You already tried this trick before, in case you don't remember."

It's different, now. I swear. If you don't believe me, look at me with your mind's eye.

Magdalena's first reaction was to refuse to listen to the wheeler, but something made her think otherwise. She rubbed the tears away from her eyes and closed them. Since the Vau had brought her her unwelcome guest, her mind had shimmied as far as it could from his. For the first time, she forced herself to peer at him, and found to her own surprise that she could catch glimpses of superficial thoughts, and fragments of deep memories. Greater surprise still, she saw that he was speaking the truth. She also saw the reason why Demuel had been so harsh on her. Not because he was despising her, or that he was holding her in contempt, but because

"you are afraid." She was astonished to find her own feelings echoed in his mind. "You are scared out of your skull."

Demuel almost replied that no, he had been electrocuted out of his skull, which had subsequently exploded, been burned to crisps and, later on, jettisoned into the Void. But Magdalena had seen into his mind, and there was no point in trying to hide the truth under snarls.

Fuck yes I am. I'm dead. My body is destroyed. Not had a heart attack, not been holed a little bit, but got deep-fried by an electric whiplash and a chemical fire. It's gone for good. All that remains of me is a lousy virtual copy of my mind. I'm dead, I'm just too pig-headed to accept it and let it go. So here I am, in the back-seat of a body that isn't mine, doomed to stay around until the Vau get me to do whatever job they want done or you find a way to flush me out of your head. I was maybe not acting exactly like it, but I wasn't looking forward to my death. I would have liked to... live a little longer.

Magdalena blinked. Having the wheeler's persona tucked in her brain had been less than a pleasant experience, but she never took the time to think of how things were looking, from his point of view. She had to concede that his situation would probably rake a three digits score on the suck-o-meter.

"But you're not dead. It's at least that."

Demuel's voice was bitter. Oh yes. I'm alive. I'm just without a body. Life has become a movie for me. I can only watch, and make witty comments. That's real sweet.

"I saw in your mind, you could take over and control my body..."

No. I could wrestle your body out of your control, but then it would put you in my situation. You said it. I'm a fucking bastard, but even I know right from wrong. I will not do that.

Magdalena paused. She knew that if she was to speak now, a line would be crossing, and that there would be no turning back. "Who talked about fighting for control? We could... share?"

Share?

She gave a small, tentative nod. "Share. I think we started on a very bad note. But it seems we are, to put it mildly, stuck together for the better part of the foreseeable future. Perhaps... it's time to wipe the slate clean and start again? I'm ready to put efforts to make our... cohabitation as comfortable as it can be if you are willing to do likewise. We are probably too different from each other to make this an agreeable experience, but at least we can strive not to make it worse than it has to be. What do you think of it?"

Magdalena felt Demuel's mind ponder on this, felt something akin to hope flicker at the core of his soul.

I... would like that.

Relief washed over Magdalena. It was a first step. The chances were that all good intentions would be forgotten once the morning would have come, but still, it was something. She breathed deeply, and forced herself to relax, to get back to sleep, although she still feared her nightmares to return, her terrors to slither back into her heart.

Don't worry. I'll stay awake. I can pick images from your dreams. If it turns to something unpleasant, I'll wake you up.

Magdalena started at the unexpected proposition, oddly touched by it. "Thank you," she whispered, meaning it. A mental gruff was the only answer she got. She wasn't expecting anything more. Slowly, she let herself drift into the realm of dreams.

Demuel, true to his word, remained awake, and kept a silent vigil on Magdalena's sleep. He was a discorporate prisoner, locked in a cage that would never see any light. He was alive for naught but the whim of aliens following an unfathomable agenda. He knew that the situation was bad, rotten bad, and would get far worse before it would get better.

But he was no longer alone.