Chapter 8: You Must Be Mad

“Shall we revisit the idea of not stepping to each other’s threadbearers.” Tailuur’s voice was a low grumbling thrum inside Warden’s head as he spoke to Loomia, who had been silently observing from the room above. The pressure Tailuur’s voice put on the officer’s eyes made him close them in case they tried to pop out of their sockets. Loomia had faded through the floor and snapped the thread. She made it look effortless, but Warden felt the considerable strain it put on her to cut the connection. At most she could probably manage to snap three or four connections before draining her strength to nothing.

“Her clumsy usage of her primal essences is tearing at the seam in the room above. If I had let her continue, she would have ripped it open.” Loomia spat back.

Warden pushed on Dr. Sharp’s shoulder and slumped her back into the chair, he caught her lulling head and propped it comfortably while she slept. He could feel it from her too. The resonance of her presence in the room. She felt heavy when she burst through the door. Warden had sensed something coming close, but he couldn’t have imagined it was her until he saw her. He saw her as she was, the way that everyone on the streets couldn’t see. The edges of her form were hazy against the Fabric, she was pulling it towards her. She was a magnet to the subtle essences that hung in the air, drawing on it considerably. She kept grabbing her head and blinking something away, she looked to be in considerable amounts of pain. Then when she fell asleep it was like the world snapped back into place.

“If I recall, it was you that forced this bond.” Tailuur said.

“I was upholding Reeth’s decree. That is all.” Loomia stood firm. “That doesn’t mean I will sit idly by while your threadbearer is putting mine in danger.”

“Your memory manipulation isn’t holding.”

Loomia didn’t reply. Whether it was disbelief in Tailuur’s claim because he was the one to do so, or she couldn’t believe her abilities might come up short, Warden couldn’t tell. The prophet pushed her lace into Dr. Sharps mind to check for herself.

Loomia pulled back her hand ripping the lace from Dr. Sharp so aggressively it threw the woman’s head forward. “She has wrecked much of my work. Her mind is extremely dangerous to try and traverse right now. She has ripped apart the memories I placed and has taken a battering ram to the protections. Her mind has made its own connections and is discarding anything it doesn’t see fit.”

Warden caught Dr. Sharp and placed her back in the chair. “Can you remove the memories and take down the barriers.”

“No, her mind attacked me. I don’t know how she awoke, but the memories didn’t have the time to anchor themselves, and now her mind is attacking itself.”

“Well, what do we do? She’s going to hurt herself.”

The room went silent as the three pondered the ordeal. Warden thought on his own mind, poking around at the things he knew were real and the ones that weren’t. He never thought about it before. He knew he was a drunk, he knew he hurt his ex-wife, but he didn’t know how or why, or what even happened to her. He thought about her face, what she looked like, how she smiled, but there was nothing of substance to the thoughts. Just faceless facades. He knew what he had done was terrible, but what was it? Why was he just fine with losing the thoughts of a woman he loved so thoroughly?

“We have to get her to dream.” Tailuur stated softly.

“The dreamscape is off limits to threadbearers.” Loomia protested.

“Yes, but dreams are how humans do memory consolidation. If her mind is bent on ridding her of the false memories, then there will be no stopping it.”

“Why is the dreamscape off limits?” Warden asked. He realized that once he had become a threadbearer he had stopped dreaming. Did he not notice? Or did he just not care?

“The dreamscape strips threadbearers of all their essences and it is completely untouchable to prophets. Demons prey on dreaming humans. Once a demon has been welcomed into a human’s dreamscape they can start traveling through dreams, driving people mad. They are difficult to track and even more so to banish without harming the human. Allowing her to go into the dreamscape we run the risk of a demonic entity latching to her mind and hiding in plain sight.” Loomia explained.

“Can someone go with her? I know you two can’t go, but I could. Make sure no demons enter her mind.” Warden offered.

“Out of the question. If you enter her mind you run the even greater risk of being extinguished like the rest of the false memories she is trying to get rid of.” Loomia made her stance clear.

“Loomia, she is my threadbearer. If her mind is as strong as you say it is, strong enough to ward even you off I trust she will be able to navigate the dreamscape without harboring a demon.” Tailuur stood firm and silenced Loomia’s intent to protest with a glare. “We need a safe place for her to dream. She didn’t feel safe at the hospital. She stated a man named Harold was summoned to do something called an ‘inkwell interrogation’ on her.”

“Harold? Bastard. Depending on how it’s done an inkwell interrogation can be fairly invasive.” Warden spat. Harold shouldn’t have been the one informed that Dr. Sharp had awoken. Warden was the one heading the investigation, and it was his office that should have been contacted immediately. Harold must have run interference at the hospital and headed off the information train. Warden knew Harold could be a bit of a handful, but from Dr. Sharps reaction to his involvement and now the fact he had intended to interrogate him herself had proven to Warden that he was more than just a nuisance. He was a problem.

“We could take her to her flat, but I don’t know where she lives.” Warden looked to Tailuur for some sort of guidance.

“You had spoken to some of the acquaintances of hers from the card club.” Loomia chimed in.

“Yes, but I don’t want to get them involved. I don’t think they would understand the idea of being discretionary.”

“Cordelia.” Tailuur’s thrumming voice echoed. “The two seemed to share a relationship that understood discretion.”

“That’s Harold’s assistant.” Warden pointed out, cocking his head.

“Yes, Cordelia was feeding her information. Suspected Harold might have caught on.” Tailuur responded.

“Huh, that’s interesting. I guess I’ll give her a call.” Warden walked over to his office telephone and pulled the earpiece off. He hummed at the idea that Dr. Sharp was maintaining that sort of connection.

When Cordelia answered she dodged Warden’s questions expertly. She refused to tell Warden where Dr. Sharp lived, and feigned any knowledge about the fact the coroner was even out of the hospital. She even went as far to state she didn’t know her personally and would have no idea. Warden finally told her that Dr. Sharp had collapsed in his office, and he was uncomfortable taking her back to the hospital to get cornered by inspector Harold, and that Sharp had requested he call Cordelia.

“I’ll be right there. I have a motorcar.” Cordelia flatly spoke and hung up the phone.

It wasn’t long before Warden heard the bubbling clammer of a car’s motor stop before his office. A young woman’s face popped into the window and her scowl peered into the room with suspicion. Her animated face twisted in curiosity as she inspected the state of the office and then burst into surprise upon seeing Dr. Sharp asleep in the chair. The young woman sidestepped into the office and quickly locked the door and closed the curtains over the window.

“For a trained officer you’re awfully silly for just letting every Joe see what’s happening through the window.” The young woman’s motions were large and exaggerated. She had a bag draped over her arm that she set down on the desk and made a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Cordelia, I assume.” Warden stated as he watched the young woman begin pulling things out of her bag. A silk scarf, some clear vials, and some wrapped up food.

“Oh officer, your powers of observation are quite obtuse. Of course I’m Cordelia. You’re Warden Shaw, DFE officer assigned to this post three months and twelve days ago, before that you were a constable in Ebonport in the Venrine district. You were married for six years to Re—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Warden cut off her ramble. “I understand you know a lot about me.”

“I know everything about you.” Cordelia spat the words in such a way that made Warden’s stomach twist violently. She knew. This woman that stood before him knew things even his own mind had betrayed him. It struck him, the thought that she had information about his own life even he didn’t remember. Why did he choose not to remember? He supposed for a while they were just useless things that held him down. It must be, otherwise he would have chosen to keep them. No fool in their right mind would choose to remove all the memories of their beloved if it wasn’t for a reason. He resolved himself that this was the case. The memories were just useless things.

“Whatever it is you think you know, understand this. I moved away from that life and right now I want to keep Dr. Sharp safe. I just want to take her home.” Warden tried to disarm the girl. She remained tense in a pensive stare before letting the tension dissipate.

“You can’t take her to her flat.” Cordelia hummed. “I wouldn’t do you much good anyway, I don’t even know where it is. Though, I have my suspicions, but it’s not my place to meddle in her life. She will have to go to your place as I think mine is being watched. I’ll help you load her into the car. I’ll take the night shift, and Layla will take the day shift. I haven’t informed any of the nurses of her whereabouts, but they have already discovered she is missing. If we need medical assistance there is a medically trained midwife not too far from here. She has access to most of the supplies we may need.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll take care of her.” Warden’s statement was met with a haughty snort from the young woman who smiled and shook her head.

“Leave you to house an unconscious and very pretty woman in your home completely unsupervised? You must be mad.” She waved her hand passively. “No, no, don’t be a silly goose. You will accept our help, or I am taking her somewhere else. I don’t need your help. You’re just more convenient because I suspect someone is also watching the places of her other friends. I know Sam is definitely being watched and I suspect Layla is to… and well Finn is dead so he’s out, but they are still watching his place.”

“Who’s they?” Warden asked.

Cordelia shrugged, “Beats me. Not anyone known to my current connections.”

“Who are your connections?”

Cordelia responded to the question with a big crooked toothy grin. It would have perhaps been less unnerving to Warden if it were a sly smirk or a wry feminine smile, but the grin spelled something entirely different for the man. He hadn’t met Cordelia before in his dealings with Harold. The old investigator may have just been keeping her abilities close to his chest, but Warden suspected it was something else entirely.

Warden shuffled Edwina into the car seat and settled in next to her. Cordelia had wrapped the silk scarf around her head to obscure the coroner’s identity and took side streets towards Warden’s flat. He suddenly became painfully aware of the fact Cordelia would witness how much of a mess his home was as they pulled up to the alley that housed the discrete door into the back stairwell. Cordelia held the doors open for Warden as he carried the unconscious woman in. He immediately regretted getting a top floor flat. The young investigator ran ahead up the stairs, skipping steps as she athletically leapt from one foot to the next. She called down for Warden to join her. They continued this exchange until they reached the top.

The apartment smelled of dust and stale tobacco. Warden still hadn’t fully unpacked from moving in. Boxes were scattered around, over the ground and on half covered furniture that came with the flat. Cheap ornate rugs covered the ground in a mauve pattern that had been clumsily stitched into place. It clashed wildly with the diamond patterned walls that continued onto the ceiling. A plush purple couch sat in the center of the room, and a bentwood rocking chair faced the window. There was a small kitchen just inside the door, with a gas stove that went unused. A brick fireplace lined the right wall and a door on the far end of it led to the bedroom.

Cordelia wasn’t shy about leaping into action clearing the couch for Warden to place Dr. Sharp down. He rounded the apartment and lined up. He held the woman, her face tucked into his chest. Her cheeks flushed with exhaustion and her eyes twitched behind her lids. The gentle curve of her neck into her collarbone made Wardens heart flip in his chest. For a brief moment, even with the fatigue of carrying her up the stairs Warden didn’t want to set her down. He shut down that line of thoughts and gently laid the coroner on the couch, placing her body and arranged her limbs into the most comfortable position. Warden looked up to Cordelia’s skeptical glare.

“So, how long have you been working for Dr. Sharp.” Warden quickly asked a question to break the silence.

“I don’t work for her.” Cordelia scrunched her nose in disgust.

“Does she pay you for information?” Warden teased slightly.

“She will reimburse me for expenses and trouble, but I’m not on her payroll, I do things for her on my own accord. I don’t have to be bribed to do the right thing.” The young woman began making herself at home. She started in the kitchen, sorting through the hanging pots, checking the drawers for supplies, and examining the contents of the icebox, or lack thereof. “Do you even eat?”

“Not here, generally.” Warden began the process of clearing away the boxes he had long neglected to unpack. He thought on her statement as he gazed back to the sleeping woman. The puzzle pieces didn’t fit. Sharp was working with an apprentice investigator, and for some reason had a home, but no one knew where it was. She spoke with such conviction in the office, like she knew something, or really everything. Cordelia was also under the impression that whatever she was doing for Sharp was “the right thing”, even if it circumvented the law and was shrouded in secrecy. Then there was that moment when Sharp’s voice went cold. The word “good” made the hairs on Warden’s neck stand up. She seemed perfectly uncaring, teetering dangerously on the edge of spiteful, when she uttered that word.

Warden winced at the feeling of the seam that was on the roof above him, stretching as Tailuur and Loomia arrived. They couldn’t pass through the seam, but their presence put strain on his sensory essence and that was the thinnest part that lay barrier between the Material and the Fabric. Tailuur hung in the corner of the room, with a certain patience that Warden couldn’t unravel.

“Does this woman truly insist on staying?” Loomia bemoaned. Warden subtly nodded his head, as he couldn’t respond out loud lest he give away to the prophet’s presence. “I will traverse the city and check on that budding tear. Tailuur will stay here. Contact me if anything changes, and don’t let Tailuur usher her into the dreamscape while I’m not here.”

Warden didn’t look back, but he felt the pin prick of Loomia establishing a small communicative connection. The strand was exceptionally thin, just enough to contact, but an exchange of any powers was impossible through such a slender thread.

“You got quiet.” Cordelia interrupted Warden’s thoughts.

“Yes, I suppose I did.” Warden muttered realizing the young woman had commented less on the fact he had stopped talking and more to break his distant stare towards Dr. Sharp. He set the box down again and continued the ritual of rearranging the mess of boxes instead of actually doing anything of substance with them.

“How long have you known her?” Cordelia asked.

Warden went to open his mouth and realized he had never formally met Dr. Sharp. He knew nothing about her in a personal sense. Cordelia’s eyes burrowed into his thoughts as he scrambled to produce a reason that would allow him to maintain a close proximity to Sharp. He couldn’t think of anything, at least nothing that would get past an apprentice inspector.

A zip rung through Warden’s arm and he felt the rushed pull on the thread that connected him to Loomia. The officer looked back at Tailuur who would feel more subtle changes in the Fabric as he stood within it.

“I feel a tear.” Tailuur confirmed, in a tone Cordelia couldn’t hear, Warden’s suspicion with how urgent the pull on the thread was.

“I will go get us something to eat. I’ll be back soon.” Warden rushed out the door grabbing his coat. He ran up the stairs to the seam that hovered over the building.

He braced himself for the uncomfortable stretching and twisting of his body that it took to open a seam and traverse through. Tearing at his skin as he moved through the weave into the Fabric. His sensory essence flooded with sensations. It felt so clear when he was actually in the Fabric itself. When the lights of the weave seeped into his inkwell and widened his eyes.

His inkwell read with the information he could only gather from within the Fabric realm itself. It was hard on the physical body to exist there for too long. Sigils signaled to Warden the amount of time before the Fabric would begin to take effect on his body. Sigils shifted as he focused on the surrounding area, a map fading into view as marks on his skin, moving as he followed the little line to Loomia. The end point lead to a centralized park in the middle of town. Wicked jagged lines tore through the image as a tear ripped. It made his sensory essence run through his body and his tongue tasted of copper. His connection to Loomia rung with urgency, and the sigil line connected to her rippled and faded with pain. She was fighting. Warden’s cotton shirt unwove, the threads changed and reformed into his chiffon. He focused and bounded towards his prophet.