In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
Chapter Eighty Five
By AL BRUNO III
Saturday, December 4th 1996
Isobel was a mote, a tiny flicker of thought plummeting through vistas of curved time and angled space.
No, not through.
The very essences of reality were locked against one another like the gears of a great machine. These were the Engines of Eternity and they had long ago ground to a halt.
Of course these impressions were nothing more than illusions, these were her human mind trying to understand the impossible. As she moved through the Spaces Between Isobel likened herself to an ant exploring an engine block, or a worm making its way along a skeleton that had already been picked clean.
“Don’t be afraid,” Hao’s voice said, “you’re not alone.”
But how could that be? How could she have heard a voice when sound was an impossibility?
There were presences nearby. Isobel knew this even though she knew that sight was an impossibility in a place like this. These minds were alien and pathetic, they paid no attention as she passed them by.
She felt herself change direction, her essence moving deeper and deeper into the blinding confusion. Isobel wondered if this journey would drive her insane. Again she asked herself it the exchange was worth it, all this for love.
Something buried deep inside her lit up like a spark at the very thought of the word. A primal reaction she knew hadn’t come from outside her but from within.
Love. Love. Love Love. The word echoed itself into nonsense.
Her mother had always told Isobel that she didn’t have an ounce of common sense, that she would always be a squanderer and a fool. Well, maybe that was right, but her mother had been talking about money, what would she say if she knew that her daughter had squandered lives and mysteries?
Another echo, another flutter like butterflies in her stomach.
Mother. Mother. Mother. Mother.
When would this journey end? Would it ever? Perhaps this was to be her punishment for bringing ruin down on Laurel House to be cast adrift forever in this madness.
A shudder swept through the Spaces Between. It was like the sound of an explosion heard from far away. It was like a death rattle.
“Too late!” Hao’s impossible voice was a cry, “Too late!”
Something black rose up out of the nothing, it was like a cloud of debris that squirmed and squealed. It was a tidal wave ofscreams.
It swept over them.
And in her blindness and terror Isobel felt her grip on the others loosen and give way.