23 – Breaking into the Blood-Soaked Bridge

“I feel sick.”

Alarmed, Erika took her foot off the gas and looked at Delilah. “Don’t throw up in here!”

Rick, in the back seat with his laptop out, paused what he was doing to glance up. “Why? It can’t possibly make this thing worse.”

Erika leveled a flat look at Rick before turning back to Delilah, eyeing her out of the corner of her vision as she focused on the road. “We can’t exactly put this off any longer. The Emperor was quite clear on that.”

Rick answered before Delilah could speak, leaning forward with his phone out. “Did you see what she did? I managed to download a video before it got scrubbed off the internet and look at this. She leveled a building in like ten minutes.”

“Yes,” Erika said, shoving him back. “I was there. And I don’t even think it was that impressive,” she lied… partially. A day of distance and some space from The Emperor’s direct presence gave her a better perspective. “I could tear down a building faster than that. So could a demolitions team.”

“Intentional building demolition typically takes weeks of preparation and analysis to find all the right spots to set their charges. You or a bomb might be faster, but all three options would leave massive billowing clouds of dust and debris to clean up. She just left a slate of glass.”

“Maybe I could drop the entire building into another reality. You don’t know.” Erika’s fingers tightened on the rusted steering wheel as she glared out the cracked windshield. “What I do know is that we can’t leave this to The Eclipse.”

Rick shook his head, leaning back in his seat. “From where I’m sitting, they look a whole lot more qualified than us, even with The Puppet’s help.”

“If a bomb or demolition charges or whatever worked on The Mummy, then it wouldn’t be a problem.” Stopped at a light, Erika cast a sidelong glance at Delilah. “Something tells me things won’t be so simple. I need to do something.”

Twenty-four hours of talking it through with Delilah and The Fixer had produced exactly one idea: point her power at its mouth and break the concept of eating itself.

Simple.

They needed to find it first.

“My hands won’t stop shaking,” Delilah said, hands held out in front of her. True to her words, she trembled uncontrollably. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“We’re almost there…” Erika urged. The trainyard wasn’t far off. “Hold it in a bit longer.”

“It’s getting worse the more we drive.”

“Maybe if Erika’s car didn’t shake like it was trying to give me brain damage,” Rick mumbled. “I haven’t gotten any work done.”

“Sorry,” Erika growled. “New car is on the list of things to do. Maybe you could use your big fancy crypto bro money to buy me a nice muscle car.”

“No can-do. My van needs—”

“You don’t need me here, right?” Delilah said, breathing heavier. “Like, you just need Nya. I can go home and Nya can go with you.”

“None of us can see or interact with Nya,” Erika patiently reminded her.

Delilah hyperventilating didn’t help change Erika’s bad feelings about the evening. This wasn’t a problem they had foreseen. At no point in the last few weeks had Delilah given any indication that she had been apprehensive about this plan, and now…

She had a hand clamped over her mouth, still breathing heavily through her nose. Her eyes rolled back into her head before she slumped over, body limp against the car door. The bungee cord holding it shut strained from the added weight, but Rick was quick on the uptake. He grasped hold of Delilah’s shoulders from behind, steadying her in her seat.

“This isn’t good,” Rick said, lightly shaking her to no effect. “We should have taken her on a few ghost hunting trips to warm her up.”

Erika shook her head. They had only hunted one ghost recently and that trip ended with her picking up a hitchhiker. “Nya. Daughter. Are you there?”

“What are—”

Delilah shuddered in Rick’s grasp, prompting him to release her in a hurry. Black, featureless eyes rolled back down, staring straight ahead without a hint of emotion. “Good evening,” Delilah—Nya said in a light, wispy voice. All the strain and stress Delilah had been under vanished with Nya’s presence, leaving her hands steady, her legs still, and her breath easy.

“This is probably better anyway,” Erika admitted.

“Once D reawakens, I will retreat,” Nya warned in her same unconcerned tone. “Stress got to her, not any physical injury, so I doubt I will be here for long.”

“Are you sure you can’t stick around? Just for tonight?” Erika asked as she pulled into the train yard.

“No.”

An array of SUVs sat in a circle in the middle of the parking lot. Members of The Eclipse lingered around, clearly on high alert. Off to the side, Leslie eyed them from afar as he organized the cases of ammo in the back of his lifted truck. Anna assisted while Sofia fidgeted near Anna’s motorcycle.

Simone hadn’t made it, and wouldn’t be coming. Erika didn’t know if there was a change in plans or if The Strategist shut the whole idea down, but none of The Puppet would be here tonight.

“It’d be safer for everyone,” Erika said as she pulled to a stop behind Leslie’s truck.

“No,” Nya said, again without further elaboration.

Erika let out a long sigh. “If Delilah passes out again, how quickly can you take over? Based on previous experience, things are going to be hectic, and her suddenly collapsing while you take your sweet time is going to end up with you and her getting killed.”

“I will be prepared,” Nya offered with a knowing nod, “and will support her from the sidelines as best as I am able.”

“Like you did this time?” Rick grumbled from the back seat, kicking open the sticky rear door.

Erika agreed, but didn’t bother echoing his sentiment. “Whatever, you’re in charge for now. Try to warn us before you switch back, if you can. Might help us catch her before she face-plants into the gravel.”

Turning, Erika started to kick open her door, only for Nya to grab hold of her wrist, wrenching her back to face those onyx eyes. “Harming an aspect harms all aspects,” she warned. “Do not be surprised when you destroy the Carrion Eater and D starts having problems. Keep her safe, because at that moment, I may be unable.”

Erika stared, eyes flicking back and forth between Nya’s steady gaze. When Delilah showed up immediately after the ziggurat, she had been bleeding out, and mentioned being pursued. At the time, Erika thought she had been wounded in her escape. Now, she wondered if the correlation was with the maggot’s demise instead.

“It harms you?” Erika asked. “Is that a problem?”

“I will survive. Even if I don’t, you don’t have much choice, do you? If you wish to end The Mummy, you must destroy the aspects.”

Erika pursed her lips. “I don’t want to kill every aspect… not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to spend my whole life doing this.” She waved her hand vaguely toward the line of SUVs.

The corners of Nya’s lips quirked upwards in a faint smile. Her glossy black lipstick—Erika lent Delilah one of hers—gleamed in a way that made Erika suddenly uneasy. Nya opened her mouth, but her lips dropped and her entire face slackened. Black eyes rolled back and returned with a little more life in them… and a little more nausea.

Delilah’s mouth hung open as she struggled to suck in a breath. She didn’t quite make it before the night’s dinner ended up all over Erika’s gear shift.

Something gave her the impression that Delilah would be passing out a lot this evening. She would ask if Nya had any viable alternatives to hunting down every aspect then.

Erika kicked open her door and took in a long breath of trainyard air that didn’t taste like Delilah’s dinner. The Eclipse had brought in a small army—two dozen SWAT-looking types and a handful of decidedly less human reinforcements milled about the SUVs.

She wasn’t sure if she could explain why they felt human. Maybe she was getting used to being around supernatural and supernatural-adjacent people these days.

Erika started to walk away, over towards Leslie’s truck, when she felt a buzz in her pocket. She pulled out her phone to find a simple message from The Fixer.

The Tower is late. If he takes too long, I’ll head in alone to provide your distraction.

Erika ground her teeth.

You better not, she typed back, fingers dancing across the phone. That’s my mother’s life you’re putting on the line. You wait for backup. We’ll be fine.

Erika stared, watching as her message went to read. She waited a moment, but no response came, so she typed out a quick Good luck, started to slip her phone back into her pocket, but pulled it out and added, love you 🙂. Staring at the message, she quickly threw in mom, not Fixer. She stared a moment longer, guilt creeping into her stomach, and amended, Fixer a little, like, not love. Pursing her lips, she started correcting herself again, only for her phone to buzz in her hands.

Thanks. Stay safe, Erika. We’ll wait for The Tower.

You too, Erika shot back before hurrying over to Leslie’s truck before she could fumble her messages any more.

“You left her behind?” Rick asked as she approached, nodding to Delilah in the junker.

“I think she needs a minute. Anyone else need to throw up?”

Anna’s head twisted just a little too far as she squinted back to Erika’s car. “Sofia might need a little pep talk.”

“No,” Sofia called from the bike. “I good. I’m just over here, wondering how my life ended up like this… and how it’s going to end.”

“We’re trained for this,” Leslie said a little too confidently. Erika wasn’t sure that they had trained for this specifically, but she also thought she had a decent chance of hitting a slow-moving target, so that was an improvement at least.

“Agreed,” Erika partially lied. “The Eclipse is out in force, we’ve got our fancy new equipment, Rick can use his sword without stabbing any of us… probably.”

“Probably,” Rick echoed, a little less enthused.

“We ran into that ziggurat haphazardly and came out fine. We’re prepared this time,” Erika finished, fist clenched.

Leslie offered her a firm nod—she wasn’t sure where his confidence was coming from, but she appreciated it. Despite feeling like she had given a grand, rousing speech to motivate them, the others weren’t looking so enthusiastic.

Low, slow footsteps approached from behind. “Tempting fate, are we?”

Erika’s mood dropped along with her clenched fist. Fixing a neutral expression on her face, she turned to face The Hanged Man. “If tempting fate was real, everyone would just say the opposite of what they want, so all backfires end up working for them.”

The Hanged Man’s lips curled. “You think reverse psychology works on fate?”

Even if Erika liked existential philosophy, she doubted she would ever want to discuss it with The Hanged Man. “Did you come over for a reason? Or just to annoy us?”

“We are to work together. It would be best to gather together.”

Leslie spoke up, cracking open one of the weapon crates. “We’ll be ready in a moment,” he said, hefting up Sofia’s grenade launcher, passing it off to her.

She accepted it with mildly more confidence than when The Warrior originally presented it. “I feel like I should have armor too,” she muttered.

The Hanged Man started to say something else, only to pause and glare at the bandoleer of multi-colored grenades as Sofia slung it over her shoulder. “Consorting with The Puppet again, are we?”

“Like you’ve never ‘consorted’ with The Puppet,” Anna muttered under her breath with audible finger quotes. Her eyes widened as she looked to Erika. “Sorry…”

Erika shrugged, unconcerned. If she cared that The Hanged Man was The Stalker’s ex, she wouldn’t have agreed to date her in the first place. Now that she thought about it, however, she did wonder if The Stalker properly dumped him or if she had just been avoiding him since Carter ripped out her attachment to him.

The Hanged Man’s lips remained firmly pursed, but said nothing more as he turned back to The Eclipse’s group of SUVs.

“Probably shouldn’t bring them up more than necessary,” Rick said, watching him go. “Maybe hurry over too, before they get too impatient.”

“They need me to break open reality.”

“That doesn’t stop them from being impatient,” Leslie responded. “Anna, you armed?”

Anna nodded, slinging the shotgun over her shoulder—only Sofia hadn’t wanted to keep her new weapon. Erika’s hung heavy on her hip, loaded with regular bullets for bird defense until she needed one of the special ones. Once Leslie grabbed his carbine from the back of his truck, everyone was ready to go.

Everyone except Delilah.

Delilah was still in the passenger seat, buckled up, shaking like a leaf. Erika sighed, wondering if this was a normal person’s reaction to marching into a hell dimension.

“I’d give you another minute,” Erika said, opening the door and leaning down, “but I think we’re about out of time.”

“Oh. Nya was talking to me…”

“Did it help?”

“Not really. She promised nothing would happen to me, but…”

“We’ll keep you safe too.” Erika held out a hand, palm up. “Try to look a little confident. Looking the part helps you feel the part.”

Delilah nodded, planting her hand in Erika’s. Her eyes slid down Erika, finding the pistol at her hip. “Can I get a gun?”

“We talked about this… It isn’t that we don’t trust you because you’re playing host to some ancient fragment of the god we’re up against. Leslie just doesn’t think you can handle a gun without hurting someone.” Erika helped her out of the car, keeping hold of her hand for a moment longer, frowning down at it. “Frankly, I can’t blame him. You’re shaking too much.”

“Because this is insane! I was never even allowed outside, and now we’re charging into some bridge of death birds? The way you described it—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Erika waved her off, not needing her to retell her own story. “You’ve got a supernatural cat inside you. When you showed up on our doorstep with your head half hanging off, your cat clawed you back together. So you’re probably going to be fine even if you do get hurt.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Delilah hissed, looking angry for all of three seconds before the queasiness returned. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Try to pass out instead,” Erika said, hand on her shoulder as she led her to the line of SUVs.

The Eclipse were a whole lot more tactical with their gearing up. The roughly two dozen SWAT guys were dressed up with armor, ballistic shields, and assault rifles. The rest, the more obviously supernatural of the bunch, were more or less in their regular clothes. The Hanged Man wore a three-piece suit, The Aeon wore that mirrored helmet and bodysuit, The Adjustment stood clad in her own carapace, though The Art swapped some parts of her porcelain doll for more rugged pieces.

Erika’s eyes paused on a woman adorned with tattoos, heart-rate spiking for a brief moment until she consciously registered that no, Jack was not in the middle of a quiet conversation with The Fool. Although she bore most of her skin, she was not completely naked, wearing a black and gold extravagant array of buckles that criss-crossed over her chest with plenty of gaps between. Matching tassels hung from a band around her waist, covering only her front and back, leaving her thighs completely bare.

The Fool’s darker skin made his blush much harder to see, especially at night, but it was there. Erika could see the way he fought to keep his eyes on the woman’s face, yet still dipped downward anytime he thought she was looking elsewhere. The way the woman’s eyes narrowed in delight made it all the more obvious that her slight stretches and twists were deliberately teasing him.

“Agent.”

The Emperor’s stern voice stopped Erika from watching their antics. Delilah yelped at her side, half hiding behind her. “Emperor,” Erika acknowledged, giving the woman a nod of her head, along with nods at the two flanking her.

The Hermit looked a little more attentive today, lacking a book but smoking from an elongated pipe. Faint curls of violet smoke wafted from its open end. On The Emperor’s other side, a man stood in an uncomfortable iron mask and a contrasting casual blazer. It took Erika a second to realize that he was probably The Hierophant, simply wearing a different mask today.

“No more delays,” The Emperor said, slit-pupils narrowing at Delilah, half hidden behind her circular glasses.

“Good evening to you too. We’re all ready to go,” Erika said, quickly glancing over to The Hunters, who migrated toward The Adjustment and The Art in Erika’s brief absence. It took a second to realize that the entire trainyard had gone silent once The Emperor spoke. “You guys look ready to go. We aren’t waiting on anyone else, are we?”

The Emperor was not amused.

“Fine. No small talk. This way then,” Erika said, dragging Delilah along behind her.

With a small hand motion from The Hanged Man, an uncomfortable number of people started trailing after Erika as she made her way across the gravel lot, heading to where her truck had once been.

Delilah might have been panicking over stepping into a hell dimension, but Erika got antsy knowing how many eyes were on her back. She had tested this once before, alone, just to make sure it would work. It had. But having an audience made things tense.

“Old gods are said to have been sealed off into pocket realities,” The Hermit said from behind Erika, breaking the silence everyone else clung to. “Lately, I’ve been investigating methods of accessing these realities, but have been unsuccessful. How do you plan to do so? By what methodology?”

“Uh, a bobby pin, I guess?” Erika said, wandering around with her hands out, feeling for that seam between the Terminator’s repairs and the rest of reality.

She had informed everyone of the potential for that clockwork angel to appear, carrying on her promise to Leslie.

“Bobby pin,” The Hermit repeated slowly, chewing on the words. “I’m not familiar with that technique.”

“I think she means a literal bobby pin,” The Adjustment said with a laugh. “You know? A hair pin? Like… hair…” She trailed off as The Hermit gave her a blank look. “I don’t even have regular hair and I know what they are.”

Erika pulled one from her pocket, holding it up. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll probably try a baseball bat. That’s my usual.”

“Magical implements?”

“No, not really…” Erika trailed off, fingers brushing over that film. “Here,” she said, shoving the bobby pin in. With a wrench of her wrist, reality cracked. Unlike the neat opening of the portal at the museum, this looked like a pane of glass hit with a bullet, hanging in the middle of the lot.

With a shove, the glass shards of reality tumbled inwards.

Framed in the crack of reality, that bridge stretched onward into the red mist.