Dream Chaser (Bailey Spade 3)

Sure enough, the masks have people’s features depicted on them, a bit like the sex-worker zombies’ masks did.

“So the members of the Parliament aren’t here in person?” I ask, my eyes darting from giant to giant.

“Nope,” Rowan says. “Each Parliament member sees through the eyes of the helper dedicated for his use and hears through his ears. Think of it as a videoconference, only designed to make you feel small and insignificant.”

Felix whistles. “Zoom has nothing on this.”

Puck. There goes Valerian’s plan to kidnap one of these people in case things go south. Despite Rowan saying she’s engaged to one of them, it’s clear that kidnapping her wouldn’t do much good; as she said, they don’t seem to care about what happens to her. If they did, they would’ve asked her to use a zombie proxy instead of dealing with us face to face.

The best we can hope for now is that things don’t go any more south than they already have.

One of the giant zombies stands up and says something in a booming voice.

“Should I translate?” Rowan asks Dylan.

Dylan shrugs.

Taking it as agreement, Rowan points at the zombie with a mask that has a hawkish nose. “That’s Keyser, and he insists I use the word ‘demand’ when I ask you why you came to this ‘magnificent’ world.”

We all look at Dylan.

“That’s pretty much what I heard,” Dylan says. “Except the original had more aggrandizements and flowery language.”

Valerian steps forward. “We came to help. An organization called Icelus is trying to rouse fear throughout the Cogniverse. Their agents are on this world, trying to infect your citizens with a deadly disease.”

Rowan’s shoulders tighten. “Is that what the masks are for?”

“Exactly,” Dylan says.

Rowan rounds on her. “And that’s the long story? I could’ve made time for that—especially since it took you all of two seconds to explain.” She pivots to stare at Stanislav with widening eyes. “Is he—”

“We learned that at the same time as you,” Dylan says. “He caught it from Nulen. You should be safe because he has a mask on.”

Keyser’s booming voice drowns any further discussion.

“He demands to know what we’re talking about,” Rowan says.

Valerian plants his feet wide. “Translate what I said, but not a word about Stanislav.”

“Disobey him, and I’ll rip you to shreds,” Fabian adds, his German accent stronger than ever.

“Since you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?” Rowan says and starts to translate, with Dylan hanging on to her every word.

I feel a little guilty about the threat on Rowan’s life, but desperate times and all that.

Keyser’s reply is curt and loud.

“You lie,” Rowan translates. “I assume you want me to skip the accompanying insults.”

Valerian’s hands flex as he looks up at the giant. “You saw Nulen die of the virus with your own eyes.”

“They saw him through their helpers’ eyes, but I’ll translate,” Rowan says and speaks Necronian for a few seconds.

Keyser’s reply is a bit longer but no less angry.

“He insists you killed Nulen with your vile otherworldly powers,” Rowan translates.

“Why would we come here, putting ourselves at your mercy, and do that?” Valerian shouts.

A giant with a small goatee replies this time.

“Even if there is a virus, how do we know the organization you’re talking about exists? How do we know you didn’t bring the disease with you?” Rowan darts a furtive glance at Stanislav as she says this last bit. “Most importantly, what do you want?”

Valerian looks at Stanislav, then at the currently standing giant. “I want you to capture the Icelus agents and give them to us. In exchange, we’ll provide the cure for the virus.”

“Wait, what?” Felix says. “Didn’t we want to catch Icelus ourselves?”

“These necros seem to hate outsiders too much to let us do that,” Valerian says, and Rowan nods in confirmation. “More importantly, we need to take Stanislav back to Gomorrah as soon as possible. As much as I hate Icelus, they’re not worth his life.”

“Must be nice to have friends,” Rowan mutters. Louder, she asks, “Can I translate now?”

“Please,” Valerian says.

Rowan speaks Necronian.

The giants begin a discussion among themselves.

As they go on, Dylan whitens. I’m guessing we won’t like the translation when it comes.

Indeed, Rowan gives us an uncomfortable look when the giants stop speaking. “Some of them say your deal is so outrageous, they don’t see why you’d come here to make it,” she says. “Keyser, on the other hand, says you’re either crazy or very clever—and has called for a vote to decide your fate.”

“A vote?” Ariel adjusts her mask.

“If the majority of them stand up, you’re going to be killed,” Rowan says, not meeting our eyes. “Otherwise, they’ll hear more about your deal.”

How fun. My fate is again tied to a ruling body’s vote. I’m definitely getting the next one for free.

Keyser’s giant stands up.

The one with a small goatee follows.