Chapter 52: Valdemar #1

  [Time Plane Memory #7]

  A masked Valdemar sat alone in an empty tram car, his head resting against the seat in front of him. In his hand he held a red ribbon – a simple hair accessory, though the way his red visors lingered on it suggested it wasn’t something simple for him.

  Night pressed against the window outside. The exact hour was impossible to tell, but the empty streets made it clear it was extremely late – past midnight for sure.

  Despite the full helm obscuring his face, Valdemar looked thoughtful – his body language alone was enough to suggest that.

  A few silent minutes later, the tram slowed. He rose, stepped to the doors. Shortly, the tram came to a full stop, the doors hissed open, and he leapt out.

  A man waited for him at the stop - tall, broad-shouldered, with a small, yet deep scar on his right cheek.

  “You shouldn’t be riding alone, V,” the man said, sounding genuinely worried.

  “I’m fine, Riven,” Valdemar replied with his mechanical voice. “How is she? I swear, if she’s missing even a single fingernail, I'll make his family pay for it."

  Riven cleared his throat and followed as Valdemar strode forward, already moving toward their destination.

  “Well, she’s…” He hesitated. “I think it’s better you see for yourself. But, V – what you said just now. That’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to act impulsively.”

  “I know…” Valdemar muttered. “And I won’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t worry. He fucked up and he'll pay for it. But it'll be on my terms.”

  His voice modulator released a muffled sound – probably a deep sigh.

  “We’re close, V,” Riven said, trying to sound encouraging. “I know it’s hard…always keeping cold and calculating despite everything that’s happened. Everything that’s happening. First Collin and Nate. Then Cecilia. Now Thea – “

  “Is there a point to this, Riven?” Valdemar cut in, tone sharp.

  Riven shook his head. “Sorry. I just meant – you don’t have to carry this all alone. Outwardly, I know you have to constantly project confidence and control; our entire operation depends on the way you carry yourself. The moment people start sensing you’re not fully with us is the moment we lose them. The moment we lose. Period.” He glanced at the masked man beside him. “Inwardly, we could pair you with someone who’ll listen. To the real you.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Valdemar replied flatly. “Things like that are useless to me.”

  “Of course.” Riven nodded, then shifted, though not far from the initial topic. “And how are you holding up physically?”

  “Better than ever,” Valdemar said coldly.

  “Don’t lie,” Riven pressed. “You’ve been sleeping what – an hour a night for the past month? I’m surprised you’re even functioning. Most people would’ve – “

  “I’m not most people,” Valdemar interrupted. “There’s only one me.”

  “That's for sure.” Riven chuckled lightly. “But still, you can’t keep this pace. We humans are fragile things, all things considered. You’ll die – and that’d be an awfully lame way to go.”

  “Rest easy, Captain,” Valdemar said. “Only I decide when I die. And I have no intention of doing so anytime soon. Not before we secure the future."

  Riven smiled, clearly impressed by the man’s unshaken resolve and mental fortitude.

  "Just make sure we have everyone's blood at the End Date," Valdemar added.

  "I know, I know. Working on it. Whatever'll be missing would be acquired on that date," Riven said, sighing tiredly.

  “Is the perimeter secured?” Valdemar asked abruptly, shifting the focus away from himself.

  “Of course,” Riven answered with confidence. “We’ve got men all around. If word of your arrival leaked – which I doubt – we’re more than ready to fight.”

  “Even if a Crow shows up?” Valdemar’s tone tested.

  Riven’s smile widened. “If one comes, Dalton Rose will learn they’re not as invincible as he thinks.”

  “Good,” Valdemar nodded just as they reached their destination – an old, five-story building. Nailed beside the door, half-splintered and weather-worn, hung a small wooden sign: Northern Orlinth Mental Asylum.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Riven asked. “I’m not sure we can trust Dr. Prosthetics over there.”

  Valdemar shook his head. “We can’t. But I don’t need you – he can’t kill me. Stay here and keep watch.”

  Riven nodded. “As you wish.”

  Valdemar pressed the handle and stepped inside.

  There, pacing back and forth, the fingers of his prosthetic hand twitching nonstop, stood none other than Dr. Emmerick Skarn. The moment his eyes landed on Valdemar, he froze.

  “I couldn't believe it at first…” Skarn muttered.

  “I’m here,” Valdemar said, moving forward without hesitation. “Thank you for calling us. Your cooperation won’t be forgotten.”

  A wide smile spread on Skarn’s face – ear to ear – before he fell silent, as though waiting for something.

  Valdemar sensed it as well.

  “Don’t worry, Doctor,” he said evenly. “I’ll keep my end of the deal. This place won’t be shut down – I guarantee it. And soon, just as agreed, big changes will come – you can rest easy knowing that.”

  Skarn nodded gratefully as Valdemar closed the distance, stopping a step away.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Which room is she in?” Valdemar asked.

  “Fifty-five,” Skarn answered. “Fifth floor. I’ll show you – “

  “No need.” Valdemar cut him off. “I’ll manage. Just make sure the door’s unlocked. Her COG?”

  “It’s in the room as well,” Skarn replied. “One of the cupboards.”

  Valdemar nodded then stepped toward the desk and vaulted over it with one hand, landing silently on the other side.

  “Open it,” he said.

  “Oh, yes, of course!” Skarn fumbled, as though just remembering only he had clearance. He hurried to the desk’s wooden hatch. It was jammed, forcing him to wrestle it until it creaked open.

  “It’s incredible, though,” Skarn rambled as he moved toward the terminal. “How did you know they’d bring her here? When you approached me two months ago, I didn’t know what to think. But when it all happened exactly as you said – then I understood why so many risk their lives following you.”

  “I know Dalton Rose too well,” Valdemar replied. “I knew he’d shuttle her from one Orlinth clinic to another until I found her. You weren’t the only one I reached out to. This wasn’t the only place I prepared for. But luck chose you to be the first she was sent to. The first and last.”

  Skarn shook his head, smiling, still disbelieving, as he reached his COG toward the terminal. It beeped – the lock clicked open.

  Valdemar wasted no time, already pushing the door inward. Suddenly, he paused, glancing back. “How is she?”

  Skarn blinked. “Do you want me to answer as a professional…or as a simple man?”

  “Both.”

  Skarn exhaled, shifting to his serious persona. “Well, I’ve definitely seen worse cases of Aetheris-therapy damage. But yes – it isn’t good. If you want her to resemble even half of what she once was, you’ll need patience. A great deal of it.”

  “Patience is something I have in abundance,” Valdemar said.

  “It still might not be enough.”

  “I’ll make it enough.” His voice carried finality. He stepped inside fully. “I’ll knock on my way out.”

  Skarn gave a simple nod, smiling faintly. “Good luck.”

  Valdemar said nothing in return. He stepped down the hallway toward the staircase, then ascended to the fifth floor. It didn’t take long to find the room he was looking for.

  Through the small window on the door, he saw her.

  Thea.

  He pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked – Skarn had made sure of that from afar.

  Thea sat in the far corner of the room, knees pulled close, her back pressed against the wall. She was mumbling under her breath, frowning, tapping her head lightly against the wall in a rhythmic, mechanical motion – every two seconds. Her fingernails were bitten to the quick, fingers already bleeding.

  Her long dark hair was tangled and unkempt – far beyond messy. Bruises, yellowing and healing, dotted her young, freckled face. She wore a standard patient’s uniform: plain blue pants and a matching short-sleeved top layered over a long white undershirt.

  Valdemar stepped inside slowly, carefully.

  “Thea, it’s me,” he said gently – his voice might’ve sounded warm and worried, if not for the distortion of his modulator.

  She froze, stopped hitting her head, and looked at him.

  Then she laughed loudly. “I’m imagining things!” she cried, and resumed the head-tapping, faster now.

  Valdemar crossed the room in two long strides and crouched beside her – but instead of grabbing her, he raised his hand and placed his palm against the wall, exactly where her head had been striking.

  She hit his palm once. Then again. Then paused.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re real! It’s really you!”

  She shrank back, pressing herself tighter against the wall, trembling. “Don’t hurt me…please! They said you’d kill me!”

  Valdemar stayed where he was, crouched low, his masked face tilted toward her.

  “Why would I ever hurt you, Thea?” he asked softly. “It’s me.”

  “Because – because I – “ she stammered, then broke into tears. “I didn’t tell them anything! I swear! They tortured me, but I stayed quiet! I kept you safe!”

  “I know you did,” Valdemar said.

  He pulled off the glove on his right hand, reached toward her face, and – slowly – wiped away the tears running down her cheek.

  “I’m here now. And I won’t let them hurt you ever again.”

  She sobbed harder. Then, suddenly, she flung herself onto him, wrapping her arms around him – and began hitting his back.

  “Why didn’t you come sooner?!” she cried, striking him again and again with her fists. “It hurt so much – but I endured – and you never came!”

  Valdemar didn’t stop her. He accepted the blows and simply wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hadn’t saved you earlier.”

  She kept hitting him for minutes, until her strength gave out and she collapsed against him, now hugging him tightly.

  Valdemar rose, lifting her along with him, still in that embrace. He carried her to the empty table nearby and gently sat her down on it.

  When he tried to pull away, she clung tighter.

  “No, no, no,” she said, her voice pleading. “Please, don’t go.”

  “I’m still here,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to give you something.”

  He reached into the pocket of his black coat and pulled out the red ribbon.

  “She always said you had struggles keeping your long hair in shape,” Valdemar said, circling behind her. “May I?”

  Thea didn’t respond. Instead, she asked her own question. Her voice was small.

  “…Is Mom...dead?”

  “Yes.”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “D...did she suffer?”

  “No.”

  She nodded slowly, solemnly. And when Valdemar moved again to reach for her hair, she recoiled.

  “I don’t want it,” she muttered.

  “Are you – “

  “I said I don’t want it!” she shouted angrily.

  Valdemar didn’t flinch.

  Thea’s eyes widened at her own outburst. She jumped down from the table and turned to him, panic and tears flooding her face.

  “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to yell – I didn’t mean to hurt you – I just – “ her voice cracked. “I can’t control my emotions!”

  Valdemar didn’t scold. He didn’t speak. He simply placed the ribbon on the empty table and then rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. We’ll leave now – and everything will be okay.”

  But Thea shook her head, tears clinging to her lashes.

  “No…I can’t leave!” she cried. “Prime Vorrick said he’d find me! That he’d always find me!”

  Valdemar’s mechanical voice dropped into something low and cold.

  “Casten Vorrick will choke on my blade for what he did to you. That – I promise you.”

  He stepped away then, toward the cupboards in the back of the room.

  “But for now,” he added, opening the doors one by one, “let me show you a trick I’d learned.”

  A moment passed. Then he found what he was looking for.

  A COG.

  He turned and Thea shrank back at the sight of it.

  Valdemar immediately lowered the bracer, adopting the voice of a worried father again – calm, patient, firm.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll use this handcuff to fool the enemy.”

  “…How?” she whispered.

  “With my knowledge of the Aetherprint,” Valdemar said, watching her. “And if you want – I can teach it to you too. It’s like wielding magic without using a single crystal.”

  Thea said nothing. She didn’t nod. Didn’t shake her head. Just watched him in silence.

  Valdemar proceeded.

  He reached toward his shoulder and plucked a long dark strand of hair – Thea’s. It must’ve clung to him during their embrace. He held it out for her to see. “Almost like Baxter, right?”

  Thea instinctively touched her own hair, a soft, fragile smile forming on her lips at what sounded like an inside joke.

  Then, Valdemar reached into his right sleeve with his left hand and pulled out what looked like a long needle. With practiced precision, he slid it into the COG’s Integration Port, twisting it slightly before inserting the strand of hair.

  The COG – a device known to remain inert without its unique human host – suddenly flickered to life.

  Thea’s eyes widened. “How…how did you do that?”

  “I’m a magician,” Valdemar said simply, and she smiled again.

  He continued, tying the red ribbon to the now-activated COG. “This will make their tracking devices go haywire. Then we’ll also leave decoys – stolen COGs with more strands of your hair. We’ll plant them all over Orlinth and the Foundry.” He looked at her. “They’ll be chasing ghosts. They’ll never find you again. I promise.”

  Thea’s lips trembled as tears filled her eyes. She rushed forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, crying wildly. “Thank you! I love you so much!”

  Valdemar hesitated – but only for a second – then returned the embrace with one arm, gently petting her with the other.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered after a few minutes.

  “Wait!” She clutched him tighter. “I’m scared…”

  Valdemar didn’t hesitate this time.

  “Hey, look,” he murmured, and she pulled back enough to look at him.

  He reached up beneath his hood. With a faint hiss, his helm detached, though his face remained hidden from view. He gently brought the mask to her face. Then, with the press of a button, the helm resized, sealing itself snugly around her head.

  “You see?” he said, his voice now soft and human without the modulator. “You’re me now. That means nothing can hurt you.”

  Then, lifting her gently, still holding her close, Valdemar turned to carry her out.

  But before his face could come into view –

  [Time Plane Memory #7 - End]