The Everborn - Nicholas Grabowsky [178]
The currents of Salvatia’s lower torso ceased in their movement, disappeared. The body of a young woman, naked and newborn baby pink plunged onto the concrete ground. The entirety of what had been Salvatia’s freshly-converted Watchmaid skin, long black hair and hollowed eye sockets, fell to the floor in a mound alone like a latex body suit, vacated and spiritless, never again to do any harm.
The human young woman that had been Salvatia, sprawled face-up upon the terrace floor, opened her frail brown eyes to the beings assembling above her.
And she let out a piercing scream.
One by one, the beings surrounding her took hold of her, lifting her body up above their heads. She did not fight against them; perhaps she was incapable. Perhaps, in the turmoil of a rebirth into her old self of centuries past, she did not want to fight.
And yet, she continued to scream. Even as the Watchers carried her, past the tables, up, over the railing and down the embankment, hen screams echoed into the night and for all eternity.
The majority of Watchers did not retreat, however, for Salvatia’s demise was not all that they had come for; if they’d come for anything else, by the looks of their collaborated advance, they’d come for Scratch next.
Scratch, looking about and realizing he was doomed as they diligently closed in on him, brought his gaze upon Bari. “What is to become of me? Am I still to be reborn?”
“You were never to be reborn,” Bari told him. Then, on second thought, she decided to elaborate. “If you posses any soul at all, perhaps the essence within you, in which dwelt some degree of good, will survive.”
“You go to hell!” Scratch cursed her. “We’re all screwed! You’re a Magdalene now and my brother is dead, and Camelia’s Ralston is dead, and so is Polito and his very estranged wife soon, it appears.”
“Simon BoLeve, you misunderstand,” Bari corrected. “Misunderstand what? That we’re all screwed??” “No. You misunderstand, for one thing, that I had a nice opportunity to converse with this wonderful clan of Watchers here before Ralston had fallen into my lap and they told me to trust them. They told me all I had to do was to allow you to take my beloved Andrew’s life and all would be fine. I do trust them, because...well, they’re Watchers for godsakes, the Master Magicians themselves!”
“But....”
“Oh, and look,” Bari said with enthusiasm to prove her point.
And Scratch dared to look.
Before the Watchers could overtake him, he chanced to gaze over the railing and down the embankment. Other Watchers were already at work with Andrew’s severed head, bringing it up carefully as others upon the terrace orchestrated the removal of Erlandson’s body. Over the railing the body went, ever so carefully, until the body and the head were reunited and tended to by the several dozen Watchers encircling about them like bees.
In the distance from this, Scratch spied Ralston walking towards the ship, flanked by many of these Watchers and shouldered upright by several as he went, as though he’d suffered a mere minor injury.
To Scratch’s left, another group of Watchers proceeded towards Max Polito’s body, to his right they dealt with the ufologist’s wife.
“You see, Simon,” Bari uttered explanatory parting words to him, “the Watchers here have been after Salvatia for centuries, but the only way for them to take her down was to get her into an enchanted location such as this diner and then for her to become physical enough to be overcome. It was all too easy, as soon as they let me in on the whole scheme. And, by the way, if they can revive Max Polito from death to life, they will surely do likewise with my Andrew. And don’t forget: Max Polito and Ralston Cooper are destined to live, for it is their book that predetermined this all.”
“Hi, how are you?” said one Watcher to Simon BoLeve,