Umbra Read online

  Five minutes.

  More than enough time.

  Emma steps out the emergency back door. Axel stalks along after her, his thin tongue flickering hungrily over his heavy lips. I pause. On second thought, there may be more work here than simply fixing calculations. Axel and his buddies might put up a fight.

  I take it back. That’s a lot for five minutes.

  Suddenly, long cracks form in the gym walls and ceiling. Red light peeps out through the fissures, casting odd patterns across the space. My pulse speeds. I’ve seen this effect before, and it means one thing.

  This world is pulling apart.

  On reflex, I scan the nearby faces. Everyone still goes about their business. Punching. Jumping. Lifting. The breaks are only visible to me, thanks to my sentient. Doesn’t make them any less real, though.

  “I got it,” I tell Justice. “The schism centers on a girl named Emma; she just moved into an alley. Some guys trailed her. I’ll go after them.”

  “No way.” Justice’s voice takes on a frantic note. “A bunch of guys sneak into a dark alley and you’re following? You’ve no idea what kind of tech they’re packing. I’m coming in to help you.”

  I prowl across the gym floor. More fissures appear beneath my feet. “Justice, I got this.”

  “No! Your hero complex is plum out of control. Give me your exact placelet location and—”

  I click the earpiece off, ending our connection. As I march toward the back door, my brother’s words echo through my mind.

  * * *

  Your hero complex is plum out of control.

  * * *

  Justice is wrong.

  I don’t have a hero complex.

  It’s more of a death wish.

  My brothers and I make up the royal family of Umbra. We’re expected to wield exceptional powers with sentient. Slate and Justice do; I don’t. That makes me the chipped jewel in an otherwise-perfect crown.

  I’m the extra prince.

  Weak brother.

  Unworthy royal.

  Someone to be pitied as he’s pushed aside.

  Fuck that.

  With each mission, I get one step closer to either proving myself a true royal … or checking out of this game entirely. The question always hangs over me. Am I a real prince or a dead fool? Yanking on the back door, I step out into the darkened alley.

  Maybe tonight’s when things get settled, one way or another.

  Chapter 2

  “There are four kinds of sentient: black for battle, silver for knowledge, blue for visions, and red for schisms. Of these, most believe that red sentient are most powerful. They’re wrong. Battle sentient, when wielded properly, make up the greatest force in the omniverse. ” – Wu Zhao Zetain, The Art Of Sentient War

  Stepping out the door, I enter the back alley. Blasts of hot air swirl around me. To my right, a narrow passage winds between two tall brick buildings. A sliver of night sky arches overhead. Humidity presses in, along with the scent of rotting garbage. Metal trash cans line one wall. Along the other, there’s Axel and his gang. They surround Emma, who’s gripping her books and papers against her chest like a shield.

  Rage heats my veins. What kind of a guy corners a girl in an alley?

  One who’s about to get the crap beaten out of him, that’s who.

  I stalk closer. “Back off the girl.”

  Axel presses his meaty hands against the brick wall so his arms frame Emma’s head. His gaze snaps in my direction. He growls out two words. “Keep walking.”

  Emma’s shaking so badly, her papers rattle. She stares at me, her eyes wide with fear.

  “You want me to leave, Emma?” I ask gently. She shakes her head. I refocus on Axel. “I’m staying.”

  “This bitch turned me down,” grumbles Axel. “Called me an animal.” He leans in until he’s only inches away from Emma’s face, then he boosts his voice to a shout. “No one gets away with that!” Emma gasps.

  I stalk closer. “I said, back off the girl.”

  “No,” snaps Axel. “You come closer, you’ll get trouble.”

  Fresh cracks open along the walls. Thin beams of crimson light slice across the alley. No one else reacts to this change. They won’t know what’s happening until it’s too late. My sentient start sending me a countdown. This is it. Only seconds remain to save this world.

  Forty.

  Closing my eyes, I summon my battle sentient. A moment later, particles rise up from my skin, forming a thin layer of black body armor. In the shadowy alley, no one can sense the change. But the battle sentient do more than protect my body. Energy pulses through my muscles. My mind focuses, dissecting attack vectors and defense plans. I tighten and release my fists, warming up. There are five of them. One of me.

  I like these odds.

  Two of Axel’s lackeys rush in my direction. I knee the first guy in the gut, then pound my fist into the back of his skull. He falls over, unconscious. The second tries to catch me with an uppercut. I dodge the blow and give the guy a head-butt for his trouble. Number two tumbles over, completely out of it.

  The cracks in the walls widen. Thin fissures open up into the night sky. My sentient send a new number into my mind.

  Thirty.

  The third lackey rushes at me. Fresh waves of power speed through my veins as I flip the guy over my shoulder, sending him skull-first against the asphalt. That guy’s out cold, too.

  The forth attacker is Ralph. The young kid’s teeth are rattling, and not from cold.

  “You want to run?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “So run.”

  Ralph passes me, pulls on the gym door, and takes off into the building.

  Smart kid.

  Overhead, huge swaths of red light cut across the night sky. A low rumble fills the air. My heart pulses so hard, I feel its beat in my throat. A new number appears from my sentient.

  Twenty.

  Axel sets his left hand against Emma’s throat, locking her in place. With his right, he pulls out a gash razor. This is new tech. The blade not only slices, it burns through you with the force of a welding torch. This is off-world tech. And the letter K is emblazoned on the handle.

  I step closer. “Where’d you get that?”

  “None of your business.” Axel swoops the blade toward my face; I dodge the blow.

  Fresh images appear from my sentient. Axel recently found the gash dagger in the alley behind the gym. Chances are, Doc Zykin left it for him to find. The Komandir never do anything directly when they can use a patsy, and Doc Zykin really wants me dead.

  Axel lunges for me, the razor gleaming in his fist. I duck out of the way. The blade passes a hair’s breadth from my neck. Grabbing Axel’s wrist, I twist his arm behind his back and press. The pressure makes him drop the gash razor. The weapon clangs onto the ground, useless. I slam my elbow against the back of Axel’s skull. He slumps onto the gravel, unconscious.

  Leaving Axel behind, I turn to Emma. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, thank you so much.”

  The threat should be over. It isn’t though. Overhead, fresh breaks of crimson tear through the night sky. The rumble of thunder turns deafening. My sentient send me a new number.

  Ten.

  I frown. Axel is out cold. The schism should end. My thoughts race. What am I missing? Maybe I need to fix some calculations, like I did with Helen.

  I refocus on Emma. “May I see your papers?”

  She starts to hand them over but stops. “Watch out!” she cries.

  Behind me, Axel hops back up to stand. This time, his appearance has changed. Once again, it’s a difference only I can see. But what I witness? It’s a nightmare that’s come to life. Thin lines of red lightning wind about Axel’s body, the strands fine as spider silk. The faint scent of charcoal fills the air. I’ve seen this before.

  Something is trying to break through.

  Or rather, someone.

  Doc Zykin.

  The Komandir faction wields spec
ial extra power over red sentient. Schism power. They love causing trouble. For years, they’ve tried to assassinate me. Goes with being the weak prince. I’m an easy target.

  Damn. I was right all along. The Komandir are in on this.

  The thin bolts of lightning merge across Axel’s face, creating a new and familiar look. There’s a hat with a rounded top and wide, flattened brim, along with a high collar suit. A long face then comes into focus: beady eyes and a grizzled chin that’s accented with a moustache and goatee.

  Doc Zykin is here, all right. My father’s best friend and greatest enemy, all rolled into one.

  The lightning version of Zykin grins. “Hickory dickory dock, the prince ran out the clock. Time ran out, the world went boom, hickory dickory dock.”

  This isn’t as strange as it could be. Doc Zykin not only likes to plague my missions, he also speaks in nursery rhymes. I hate his fucking guts.

  More of the web of lightning surrounds Axel. This is called bronya bonding. Komandir assassins use this technique to track someone down when there’s no placelet data. Fortunately, I’ve seen this move before. Axel’s body is like acting like a cosmic doorway. If I can close things down before they fully open, then Doc Zykin gets locked out of my reality.

  I need to end this.

  With all my focus, I pump all my battle sentient into my right arm. The muscles there twitch with held-in energy. Cocking my fist, I smack the mixture of Axel and Doc Zykin slap on the chin. The crack of bone breaking fills the air.

  A moment later, the lightning bolts disappear from around Axel. He falls back onto the gravel, unconscious.

  All around me, the red fissures close. Walls solidify. At last, the night sky becomes a single sheath of darkness—no breaks to be seen. My sentient send me an image of the open prairie behind my cabin back home: a rolling landscape covered in sheets of tall grass. It’s one of my favorite views.

  For my sentient, this is their way of saying, it’s over. We’re safe.

  I let out a slow breath and turn to Emma. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “No, thank you.” She offers me her papers. “Do you still want to see these?”

  “Sure.”

  I take the sheets from Emma and give them a quick scan. Her numbers are flawless. She didn’t need her calculations repaired, she only had to live long enough to share them. I flip through more pages.

  “What will you do with these?” I ask.

  “I got a scholarship to Zeta University,” offers Emma. “It’s part of a work study for Professor Hopkins. He’s working on a machine that can open parallel universes.”

  I hold up the sheets. “Before Hopkins opens other worlds, make sure he sees these numbers. People often miss out on stabilizing dark matter and you nail it here. Stuff you do in the future can even ricochet the past, so be careful.”

  “Dark matter,” Emma nods. “I’ll remember.”

  A pair of figures step into the opposite side of the alley, their outline framed by moonlight. Emma waves in their direction. “My parents are here. I want to introduce them to you. Show them what happened. You’re a hero, taking down those guys. Maybe you’ll even get in the local news!” She rushes off to the other side of the alley.

  Beep … beep … beep …

  As Emma rushes away, I tap my earpiece. “Accept comm.”

  “Get back here now,” says Justice.

  “What? No congratulations for saving another universe?”

  “Cole is on his way.”

  That’s my father and he has two modes. When we call him father, then he’s acting like a regular dad. But when we call him Cole? That’s an emperor who’s having his consciousness eaten through by Crown Sentient. More and more, Cole only wants one thing. Blood.

  “You need to close out your mission before he arrives,” adds Justice.

  “Understood.” I click off the earpiece and pull on my sentient. A second later, a hoop of silver particles appears in the air before me. I’d worry about Emma seeing what I’m up to, but she’s still chatting away with her parents on the other side of the alley.

  Pulling on my sentient, I create the beginnings of a drift void, which is how we travel between universes. A circle of silver particles appears before me, which means the void’s created by my knowledge sentient. I pump more energy into the connection. The particles spin in heavier loops until the center transforms into a solid panel of gray. The sight reminds me of a silver plate hanging in mid-air.

  Then I punch through.

  The silver panel smashes into tiny fragments, revealing a hole to another world. With our realities connected, I step between the round opening that now connects our realities.

  Time to face Cole.

  Chapter 3

  “Managing the omniverse is only possible with a Visualization Dome. Through it, sentient graphically show us the most important paths and realities.” – Hammurabi the Seventh, Law of Sentient

  I step out the other side of the drift void and into the royal Viz Dome, a space that feels larger than a hover jet hangar. All around me threads of white light zoom and weave through the darkness. We call these reality bands, and they represent different timelines of parallel universes. The bands dart across the room in a great nest of interconnected worlds. Using this representation, the sentient show us which bands need attention in order protect the omniverse.

  “Guys?” I call.

  No reply from Justice or Slate.

  My brothers aren’t visible in the dome, but that’s typical. When the Viz Dome is showing so many reality lines, it’s like walking through a quickly-moving fog.

  “There in a sec,” drawls Justice at last.

  “Minute,” corrects Slate.

  My younger brother isn’t one for long sentences. One word is about what he gives at any time. And by saying minute, Slate means that he and Justice are examining other threads across the dome, and it will take them longer than a second to finish. In other words, Slate is a stickler for accuracy. I think it’s a side effect of having control over vision sentient. The future is a disordered mess, so Slate keeps his present reality organized.

  “Viz dome,” I command. “Show planet X3894-B, strand BT704.35, and branch point 1T.783-50E.”

  A particular strand glows more brightly. I step closer, examining it with an expert eye. The thread looks stable. No pulse pattern or fading. The color’s good, too. If Emma’s world were still in trouble, the line would show red.

  Thud … Thud ... Thud …

  Someone’s at the door.

  One guess who.

  The illusion of the nest of lines vanishes. In its place, my brothers and I now stand in a large gray space whose walls are made from shifting filaments. Nearby, Justice cuts a hefty figure in his long duster, heavy boots, and scarred face. Basically, he’s a younger version of our father, Cole. Slate stands beside him. My younger brother is tall and sinewy with a long face and shoulder-length white hair. Like always, Slate wears a deep indigo jacket with a high collar and straight cut. Not for the first time, my brothers remind me of a cowboy and preacher from Umbra’s old West days.

  Or maybe we’re based on an Earth version of the West. Hard to tell, what with so many lines of reality. Things get blurred.

  Across the chamber, the wall threads pull apart. Cole steps through, his scarred face angry as thunder. Doc Zykin slinks along beside him. I’m happy to see that the Komandir assassin sports a nice bruise on his jawline. My punch back in Emma’s world clearly connected.

  Doc Zykin rubs his bony hands together. “Three blind mice, three blind mice. See how they hide, see how they hide. They all ran after their father’s life, but he cut off their plans with a carving knife. Did you ever see such a sight in your life as three blind mice?”

  This is Doc Zykin’s way of accusing of trying to kill our father. The guy is a major prick.

  “How’s your chin, doc?” I ask. “Looks like a monster bruise.”

  Cole pauses a few yards away. Like Justice, the Empe
ror wears a long duster. Cole sets his hands on his hips, exposing the gash gun and bullets along his beltline. He rounds on me. “You got a problem with Doc Zykin?”

  I nod. “He tried to kill me again.”

  If our world is based on the old West, then Doc Zykin is a classic snake oil salesman. It’s not easy for father to handle the Crown Sentient. Eventually, every emperor goes mad. Supposedly, Doc Zykin gives father tonic that promote sanity. I doubt the doc’s potions do anything, though. I think father just needs to believe there’s a cure.

  Cole’s gaze flickers between me and the doctor. “I won’t coddle you,” says Cole at last. “You kill him or he’ll kill you. That’s how life works.”

  My heart sinks. No question about it. My father isn’t here. This person before me is one hundred percent Cole. Months ago, my real dad would have told Zykin to back off. Not any more. We’re losing our father my inches. What will disappear next?

  “Enough whining.” Cole scans me, Justice, and Slate in turn. “I tracked you three here for a reason.”

  “The emperor thinks you’re plotting to take his throne,” offers Doc Zykin.

  Cole’s eyes narrow to slits. “Not now, Doc.”

  Doc Zykin bows his head. “Yes, my Emperor.” Only, the fake doctor moves slowly enough that I catch the smug grin on the old man’s grizzled face. It’s the Komandir faction who want the throne, not me and my brothers. Saying that never ends well, though.

  “What do you need, Father?” asks Justice.

  “My knowledge sentient say a request is coming,” answers Cole. “I want y’all to ignore it.”

  “We serve the sentient,” I say. “If they order us, we obey.”

  “This demand isn’t from the sentient.” Cole stares at the floor. It’s what he does when he’s about to lie his ass off. “I’m talking about a promise I made that’s been fully kept. I don’t owe anyone a thing. So none of you act on this, you hear me?”

  My eyes widen. There’s only one promise that Cole can mean here. It’s how he got his Crown Sentient way from the Komandir in the first place. A pair of humans had developed enough drift science to contain Crown Sentient. As a favor to Cole, the humans stole the sentient and hid them in a lab. It worked. The Komandir never suspected the most powerful sentient in the omniverse were hiding in a backwater version of earth. But holding such power took a toll on Truman and Rose Archer. Their minds started to snap. The only way Truman could stay sane was to move to Umbra. His wife Rose is still back on Earth with their two daughters. My mother, Janais, checks on Truman. If a request for help is coming, it probably won’t be from him.