Gregory Grey and the Fugitive in Helika

CHAPTER 16.1

  Lesley's Diary - Feathers - August 15, 1909

  There has to be a limit beyond which your brain says – “One more, just ONE more little feather on THIS camel’s back, and it’ll break on you so hard that you’ll emerge from other side of the hole that was created through the earth from the sanity-breaking explosive force of that weight.”

  My brain is almost there, thanks to both good news, and news-I-don’t-what-to-make-of-but-is-definitely-mind-breaking.

  Good news first:

  Yesterday, I got Winnie alone, and I revealed that I was not, in fact, dead; and her first words to me were:

  “I know you’re the Ghost.”

  She revealed that she, in fact, had known it all along. No, I mean, literally known it all along, not in the sense of not believing in her heart that I could be dead.

  Looking pleased enough with herself to rival any dog that’s just chased its own tail into submission, she tells me that she’s known all along that I harboured a Sentinel within me. Only she didn’t think it was a Sentinel, because nothing that beautiful could have been a force for evil. She saw a glowing-white, angelic looking being that told her to nurture me back to full health. She accepted, of course, and the Sentinel melted into white smoke and infused my body, which then glowed brightly for a few moments.

  Winnie believes a god has touched me, chosen me for a great destiny, and she’ll move heaven and earth to make sure I fulfil my role.

  I don’t know what to make of this, but in the short term that doesn’t matter; the upshot is, Winnie and Emil will do anything I say without question. I’ve instructed them to quietly spread the word throughout the camp to be ready to break the stupid blood census tracker devices the second I tell them to.

  Yeah, power, baby!

  The rest of the camp is very taken with me, if somewhat indirectly; once word got out the escapees had been rescued by an benevolent and invisible spirit, I’ve earned the moniker, “The Friendly Ghost”. When the Friendly Ghost tells you to be ready to break your infernal devices, you better be ready to break your infernal devices.

  Spooks and Ghosts… camps could not get more haunted. Ha ha.

  The news-I-don’t-what-to-make-of-but-is-definitely-mind-breaking:

  I’m not the only Trueblood anymore. There is another in Domremy. He Scryed me, not an hour ago.

  And he doesn’t know… he really doesn’t know, that he has his own Sentinel.

  He’s worried that no one can explain to him why he got a strange fever sometime ago! He says the fever robbed him of his memories! And that it weakened him magically to begin with… but now he’s strong again?

  How does this happen? What does this mean? How stable is he… or whatever is going on inside of him?

  Is he from one of the lost tribes Father and Mother spoke of? Did someone take him somewhere planning to have him trap a Sentinel, but it went wrong, and that’s why it affected his memory and his magic??

  He doesn’t even seem to know he may have Sentinel-granted powers!

  WHEN did this happen? Why didn’t the earth break like it did with ME? Why wasn’t there a Voidmark when it DID happen? Is my Sentinel related to the Voidmark at all? It can’t just be coincidence that I open a Cradle and a Voidmark hits at practically the same moment! It can’t!

  Then what in the world was his version of the Voidmark?? How did it happen without anyone knowing about it?

  And the Blood Census… God’s above, it’s a DOMREMY and HELIKA project? We cooked that up? Why? I didn’t even know that was going on! Why didn’t I know?

  What can I do about this?

  Priority: Save the refugees. Even if Father is pushing for an international tribunal like the Trueblood said he is, I have a feeling it still won’t be healthy for us to stick around for too long.

  For if I was in Helikan shoes, I’d simply let all the refugees die from the lack of an antidote, and then claim that they destroyed the existing stockpile fighting over themselves for it. The only silver lining is that they won’t kill us off immediately… not with the world watching the Blood Tree.

  Probably.

  The armband trackers have some use after all.

  But no, we can’t sit like ducks, expect the world to save us, and then congenially keel over when the Helikans arrange for an ‘accident’.

  I’m taking our well-being into my own hands.

  And then, when I get back to Domremy, I’ll see what this other Trueblood is all about.

  Is he with us or is he against us?

  Or is this all an elaborate trap, and he plans to capture me in his web as soon as I walk into his parlour?

  Well, we can’t let him run around on his own. I feel bad for lying to him about the effect the Sentinel had on my magic, but I can’t lay all my cards on the table… after all, I’ve no idea what he wants from me.

  Now, another interesting happened and I’m not sure what to make of it:

  The Sentinel protected me. When the Trueblood tried to Scry me, I felt my face go numb, and my mouth and tongue began shuddering on their own.

  Then the Sentinel stepped in and somehow, I was in control again. I felt it take control of the spell. I felt it stop the Trueblood like an elephant stops traffic.

  When he said he knew I’d been sick, I almost killed him… and I think the Sentinel would have helped me.

  It let us speak, and when we were done, it broke the connection.

  I should be touched; an ancient demon cares for my well-being.

  Why couldn’t I sense his Sentinel? Shouldn’t it have protected him from mine, as mine protected me from him?

  But why does mine care? What do you want, demon?

  Addendum: He said I speak as if I were in a book so I just went back over everything I’ve ever written, and I’ve come to a rather depressing conclusion: I have most unimaginative writing style. I wouldn’t read it. I don’t want anyone else to ever read it because I’d be so embarrassed I’d die. I’d burn everything I’ve written so far, but that would be horribly depressing.

  There’s only one thing to do… one day, I’m going to have to go back and revise everything. That’s a promise.