Throne by Phil Tucker

Author:Phil Tucker [Tucker, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Urban
ISBN: 9781469981949
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-02-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Darkness, warm and velvety, the kind found in the back of old closets behind dusty coats when the doors are pulled closed. So many different ways to move through the world, thought Maya. Upside down wells, through distorted closets, through trees…Moving slowly, hands extended before her, feet shuffling through twigs and leaf mulch, she moved into the heart of the tree. And though it was great, a vast trunk, there was no way it could be this deep; she should have pressed her hands against its far side, but no; still she shuffled forward, blind and alone.

Then: a wall of vines, of brittle leaves, thick and fibrous. Pushing against it, Maya decided she could slip through with a little effort. She wedged herself in sideways, stuck a leg out, her shoulder, and then wrested out her head. Paused, surprised, but was pushed from behind by an impatient hand, and so stumbled out into the miniature playground, rounded on all sides by looming buildings.

Guillaume was awaiting her, perched atop a seesaw, his weight insufficient to cause it to drop. Maya, brushing dead leaves from her hair, drifted forward, stopped. A small courtyard, with room enough for a set of swings, a slide, and two seesaws. A chain link fence with an open gate leading out to the street, smooth gray walls rising up on the other three sides. A bench across from her, a heavy set Japanese man frozen, hot dog held before his mouth. He stared at her through his thick, old fashioned glasses, unable to believe what he had just witnessed.

“Fuck it’s cold,” said Kevin, shouldering out after her. He rubbed his hands together vigorously, and then up down his arms. “Any chance we could get a drink before looking for this Asterion?”

Guillaume leapt neatly down from the seesaw and brushed past them both. “Come,” was all he said, his voice abrupt, commanding. Like a trail of smoke he led them out through the gate, leaving the forlorn little courtyard behind.

Night, banished by the lights and furor of Manhattan. Buses yet trawled their way down the avenues, endless cadmium yellow cabs blared their horns and swerved like dog fighting pilots from World War I. Heavily coated pedestrians rushed along the pavement, ducked into bars and restaurants, processed themselves through revolving doors that led into glittering lobbies.

Kevin leaned his head back and looked up at a great banking building. Many of the windows were still lit, despite the hour. “Man, I hate Manhattan,” he said. “Place gives me the creeps. It’s like the Terminator.”

“The Terminator?” asked Maya, stepping up next to him. “It’s a killing machine?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s a machine all right, hidden beneath a layer of cosmetic flesh and hair. You think it’s human, you think it’s a good place to be, for a laugh or whatever, but it’s not. Cold metal and laser eyes, it’ll chew you up and grind you down.”

Maya laughed, and then saw that Kevin was serious. “Huh,” she managed. “Guess you’ve had some bad experiences here.

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