Page 86 of The Devouring Time

She and Dr. Yurevich help me sit up, then stand. My legs feel shaky, and everything has an odd sense of unreality. As though I’m still half in the past, back there with my fellow captives, my friends.

The tears start up again, though I’m past caring who sees. Mary and her cult seem laughable compared to the Swarm.

Mary unlocks my handcuffs with a warning I barely hear. We pass back through the tunnels into the house and she leaves me in Dr. Yurevich’s care. He escorts me to the bathroom on the second floor so I can brush my teeth and drink a glass of water. Once that’s done, we go back down to the keeping room.

Dawn has broken outside, the sun slipping fingers of light between the gaps in the curtains. Adrian and Helen sit at the table, Thurston and Dorset standing behind them.

As soon as he sees me, Adrian leaps to his feet. Dorset puts a hand out to stop him, but Adrian evades his grasp and runs to me. “Sterling! Are you all right?”

I fall into his embrace. His familiar smell grounds me a bit more in this time, as do his strong arms. I don’t bother to hold back my sobs of grief for my long-dead friends, and his arms tighten around me.

“What did you do to him?” Helen demands. “I swear to the dark gods, Mary, if you⁠—”

“Calm down, Hellion, we just helped him remember. Which he wanted us to do, if you recall.”

“They didn’t hurt me,” I manage to say, in case Helen decides to start casting spells. “It’s worse than that. So much worse.”

Adrian draws back and peers down at me, searching my gaze for answers. “What did you remember?”

“Nothing good.” I start to wipe my eyes with my fingers. Adrian produces a handkerchief and does it for me, before handing the cloth over for me to blow my nose. “Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”

It takes about two hours for me to relate and explain all I now remember. Halfway through, Mary grabs a bottle of scotch and pours a tumbler for everyone, even though it’s well before noon. When I finally reach the end of my tale, no one speaks for a long moment. I look around at their pale faces and frightened eyes, and the despair from my time in isolation returns.

Helen finally rouses herself. “All right. So, when we spoke to Dr. Dane at the university, she said the date Bianca predicted for the return of the Swarm was September 25, 1927. They should have already come through.”

“We’d know if they had,” I say with a shake of my head. “They would have replaced us en masse. I would probably never have returned at all, the Swarm scout would have just kept my body.” A horrible thought occurs. “A body it’s used to. It means to replace me again, only this time permanently. That’s why it left money in my wallet and tried to orient me when I returned—so this body will still be here, in good shape for it to inhabit again.”

Adrian’s eyes widen and his lips part in horror, but he doesn’t say anything.

“If they’d emerged, they would have replaced the poor wretches whose wills they’ve already suppressed with the Chrysalis.” Mary pours herself another drink and tops off everyone else’s. I haven’t touched mine, too shaken to even want alcohol. “The fact they haven’t means we still have time. Your friend Bianca was wrong about the exact date.”

Dr. Yurevich clears his throat. I’ve almost forgotten about him; he’s taken up residence in a comfortable chair in the corner. “While you were sleeping, Mary filled me in. I believe she said Bianca Giuliani was a Renaissance artist?”

“She was,” I confirm. And so much more.

“Was she writing before or after the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar?”

The question hasn’t even occurred to me. “Before. Which means…” I do a quick calculation in my head. “Add thirteen, and September 25 by her reckoning would be October 8 in ours.”

Adrian’s brown skin shades toward gray. “That’s today.”

58

My heart drops and the world seems to spin around me. The Swarm are coming and there’s nothing we can do to stop them. Any moment now, I’ll find myself back in the body stolen first from the Tschchch, facing whatever apocalypse the Swarm are fleeing.

Back in this time, the Swarm will burst forth unexpectedly, slaughtering everyone they haven’t taken over without warning or mercy. They’ll colonize our time, as they’ve done so many others. Pawns like Zebulon Hart will live, held captive as their reward, watching as the Swarm play at being human. Nothing new will ever be built, but they’ll clumsily attempt to repair what we leave behind, because they have no true culture of their own, only what they steal from others.

Human children will be born, raised to adulthood, and switched into aging or dying bodies so the Swarm can continue. The cycle will go on, until extinction once again threatens, and the Swarm find their next victims.

Helen puts her head in her hands. No one else moves. All of our struggle has been for nothing.

We’re doomed.

If only I could travel back in time and warn Bianca, warn Khephnes, and most of all warn myself to stay away from the Hall of Records. We could have remained in ignorance, and Khephnes could have lived, even if only as a captive.

Except it wouldn’t make any difference, would it? Bianca would still push forward. Still try.

I know she was still fighting, even when they put us in isolation. And what trials had she faced once she returned to her proper body? What had she sacrificed to leave me a final message?