An idea sparked, and hope surged briefly in my heart. So, what you're saying is that we need some terrorists. Someone who could, say, physically smash the black boxes in the subway system. I was thinking of Rebeckah or even the Gorgons.
The page frowned. If LINK-Michael has been unleashed, it might be difficult for me to get a message to anyone.
I'll worry about that. You do what you can to screw up Mouse's system.
The page beamed with pleasure. Okay. Sounds like now you've got a plan.
I nodded, even though the page couldn't really see the expression. We opened the connection to the LINK. Darkness subdued the usual glitter of the space. The angel's presence oozed around us, dampening the normal vibrancy of the space.
Shit, the page whispered beside me. This is worse than I imagined.
Go, I said. I'll get the message to Rebeckah.
With a cascade of light, the page disappeared into the ether. I stepped out into the LINK. The LINK-Michael had infected the crowd through the entertainment and news channel. My avatar interpreted the sensation by showing thick, slimy tentacles undulating through the ceiling of a tunnel and disappearing into the floor. The air held a charred smell, like wet burned toast. I grabbed the nearest feeler and yanked hard. Moist flesh slithered through my fingers.
You're not going to make this easy for me, are you, Mouse? I said. This time I punched at the waving palp. Continuing to pull and punch, I danced through the narrow band, calling him out. Are you afraid to fight me? Are you scared I'm going to kick your ass just like I did Phanuel's?
That got a reaction. Rearing out of the floor, two tentacles reached out. Their slippery wetness enveloped me. Curling around the body of my avatar, the feelers hugged me tightly. At first the feeling was welcoming and warm – dark, but not threatening, like snuggling under a feather comforter at night. Suffocating heaviness descended next. Panic rose in my throat, but the pressure in my skull squeezed tightly, pushing my consciousness deeper and deeper. I fell back into that place that I watched myself from when I was a practicing wire-junkie.
The distinct, floating part of my mind became aware of my body shifting in real time. The LINK-angel twitched my muscles, as if testing out the controls of a new machine. Through the angel's senses, I felt a familiar heaviness in my breasts. Observing my body in this way, I understood what had happened to Rebeckah's male sysops. Most men were still socialized to be able to distance themselves from their bodies – wire-wizards even more so. The more into the machine you could go, the faster your interface was. Thus, the LINK-angels were able to devour them whole.
On the other hand, most women were brought back, once a month, like it or not, to the sensations and needs of their bodies. That's why Sharron had been able to function where Rebeckah's male hackers had not.
Feeling the heaviness in my womb, my body was telling me I was pregnant ... pregnant with Michael's child. Michael had sacrificed to get me here, and I refused to let me down. No matter how hard and how deep LINK-Michael pushed on my consciousness, part of me stubbornly clung to the physical realm. I used that to my advantage now. Opening my eyes in real time, I thrust my back firmly into the corner, resisting the angel's command to stand. My body twisted with the effort and flopped hard against the floor. At the same moment, I sent out a plea for help to Sharron, Rebeckah, or any Malach on the web. As double insurance, I sent out a message to Dancer via Michael's credit counter. I told her that if she could gather enough friends to smash Mouse's boxes in the tunnels, I'd find a way to get her in the front door of some restaurant.
Before I could get a response, I was yanked away by searing pain.
Curse you, McMannus, Mouse said, with LINK-Michael's deep echoing voice. I don't want to hurt you – not really.
Pain cut like a knife across my abdomen. I wanted to disconnect, but I was too far out on the LINK for that move to be safe. Curling around my stomach, I gasped in pain. I tried to stay focused on my body, to think about breathing, the baby, but the pain centers the LINK-Michael manipulated were part of me as well.
Switching tactics, I tried sending another message to the Malachim on broadband.
No one hears you, the LINK-Michael informed me. I can block your pathetic attempts at communication.
The page is headed toward the hub, Mouse, my avatar hissed through clenched teeth. In real time air escaped in bubbles between clenched teeth. We're going to pull your plug. Expose you like Oz behind the curtain.
Bullshit, Mouse spit, cramping the muscles across my back.
I cried out in pain, shinnying along the floor like a crab. You think he won't betray you? I sputtered, You ... you should have told him about the Pope.
Mouse hesitated. I sensed other ears listening intently; the octopus tentacles of LINK-Michael projected our conversation into the minds of the others he possessed.
Using the angel technology to kill the Pope was a stroke of genius, Mouse. Proto-Michael possessed Daniel, didn't he? Feeding his anger ... moving his body like a puppet. Did you attack me just to see if it could be done – directed at a specific person ... ?
My accusations stopped. Prone, I could feel the weight of my back pressing down on lungs that suddenly stopped working. I no longer took in air on my own. Mouse had upped the ante, and I was out of chips.
I'd always hoped to think of something clever at moments like this, but all I could think was: Fuck. Breathe, damn it, breathe. Despite my pleading, my lungs refused to obey my commands. My muscles spasmed as I tried to flop onto my back to relieve some of the pressure. Veins stood out on my neck, tight with lack of oxygen. My head felt light.
My eyes opened, and I saw flames licking at my flesh. The tongues danced along the material of my trench coat, but there was no pain. I smelled the spicy scent of crushed bay leaves, and I knew I was dying. My mind whispered a prayer, my first in years, Let Rebeckah or Dancer get my message.
A year ago, the idea of dying would have frightened me, but Morningstar had kindled the ember of faith left in my heart. I felt myself moving upward, floating toward the surface. The sun-speckled surface of the water Michael's archer shot through glowed above. The dark haze that shrouded the LINK lifted, and glittering stars shone in the sky. Tentacles receded, and I surrendered.
Your faith is admirable, Deidre, but this is an exceedingly bad time to die, a warm, familiar voice said.
Michael? Then, I asked, Morningstar?
The voice didn't answer. I felt something akin to a push, and then I buoyed upward toward ... Consciousness. A harsh gulp of air brought the pain back to my body. My lungs heaved with the effort to make up for lost breath.
I opened my eyes, surprised to be alive. I lay facedown on the polished wood stage. Though the stage lights shone in my eyes, I could see the gathered crowd. They continued to push against the security guards, and in a moment they would overwhelm them. Lifting my head, I could see the angels standing in a tight guard around Rabbi Grey. By nearly dying, I had escaped the LINK-Michael, but, from the blank looks on the faces of the angry mob, he was not gone from the LINK.
I'd escaped, but my plan had failed. I struggled to my feet, just as a collective roar came from the crowd. I ran toward Rabbi Grey and the angels, just as the mob broke over the security guards like a flood over a dike.
"Get him out of here! To the trade tunnels!" I shouted, but I doubted I could be heard over the din. As I was swept up in the flow of bodies, I opened my LINK connection. I wasn't sure what I'd do, but I hoped to reason with the crowd. Before I could hail a broadband channel, an incoming message icon filled my vision.