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Shoving aside all thoughts of my mom and my dead sister, I leap to my feet and begin pacing in the small confines of the car. “Start at the very beginning. Why did the Councils look for Nostradamus? When he hinted at doom and gloom, did it have something to do with the Overtaken? And what’s Necronia?”
Valerian picks up his drink and takes a large sip. “Right. From the beginning. You remember Wrakar?”
I stop. “The necromancer who nearly killed us?”
I wish I could forget him. The last time I saw the guy, Kit had him cocooned in a spiderweb.
“The Senate had him questioned,” Valerian says. “We learned a lot.”
Ouch. Questioned is a polite way of saying tortured.
“According to Wrakar, Icelus is a multi-world organization,” he continues, “all united in one goal: to make you know who stronger. Though we stopped the attack here on Gomorrah, the Cognizant in countless Otherlands weren’t so lucky.”
I sit back down, my knees suddenly feeling weak. “They blew up people?”
“On some worlds. On others, they instigated a war. And on some, they worked in a subtler manner. Remember Koshmar, the drug that gives nightmares?”
I nod.
“On one world that’s a lot like Earth, they managed to start a pharmaceutical company and distributed a more lethal version of that drug as a sleeping aid. This has led to millions of deaths and billions of horrific nightmares.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t realize Icelus is so widespread. How many members are there? How do they coordinate these atrocities across the Otherlands?”
“Many of the cataclysms were caused by the same cell. As for world-to-world communication, Wrakar claimed they have a dreamwalker among them for that. At first, it seemed farfetched, but after that attack inside your dream, I believe him on this, too.”
Another dreamwalker.
An Icelus dreamwalker.
That must be who the Nutcracker is.
“How do you know it’s a person?” I ask. “Couldn’t a nightmare deity personally help them coordinate?”
He shrugs. “Seems like overkill. Besides, I think the Overtaken is what happens to people who get too chummy with the one you mention. Most Icelus are independent agents, not puppets with fiery eyes.”
“Right. So you questioned the necro and told the Councils on Earth about your findings?”
“And the Councils on other easy-to-reach Otherlands,” he says. “The idea is to coordinate a defense. This is why we looked for seers. Besides the obvious usefulness of their visions, they can communicate inter-world, albeit only with each other.”
I recall Nostradamus saying how Valerian will never meet him again. “Let me guess. The seers foresaw your interest in them and ran away before they could get pulled into this mess?”
Valerian rakes his fingers through his hair. “Exactly. Which is when everyone started to really worry.”
“What about that cryptic Fate Motif thing he said last? And, relatedly, how do I play detective?”
His upper lip curls. “Seers. I’ve heard of the Fate Motif in the context of music. Specifically, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, also sometimes called the Fate Symphony.”
I know the music piece he’s talking about. It’s one of the best-known compositions of classical music on Earth. One where the opening bars—and the motif—are Da-Da-Da-DUM.
“But what does it have to do with anything?” I ask. “And how do I play the detective?”
Valerian shrugs. “Let’s hope you figure that out when the time comes. Playing the detective might mean using your reasoning skills or something like that.”
“And Necronia?”
“That’s Wrakar’s home world—or more precisely, the world he was exiled from. He and the dreamwalker—whose identity he doesn’t know—discussed that world at length, and Wrakar is convinced that it’ll be attacked by a particularly nasty Icelus cell called the Pales. I decided to head up a team to go there to prevent the attack and capture the Pales.”
I rub my temples. “And I wasn’t going to be a part of this team, was I?”
He shakes his head. “I wanted to keep you safe on Gomorrah, but that’s out the window now. Nostradamus is not a seer you can ignore.”
Great, just great. If that dessert thing’s taught me anything—besides a fear of seers—it’s that I’d better go on this stupid mission. “Did the necromancer say what kind of attack to expect?”
Valerian grimaces. “You won’t like it. He thinks it’ll be via a vicious virus, one that affects humans and Cognizant alike. The Pales apparently specialize in bioweapons and have used viruses on other worlds already.”
A virus.
I can feel all the blood draining from my face.
Why couldn’t it be anything else?
“You don’t have to go,” he says gently.
“He said I’d die if I don’t.”
“Actually, he said my current plans would lead to your death, but what about new plans? What if you stay on Earth?”
I stand up and pour myself a stiffer drink.
I have no idea what to do. Do I trust a seer? And if so, can I physically make myself go to a world where a scary virus is running amok?
