One of the
heavy fellows had a tattoo. It was a tattoo of that diagram, with
something that looked like a black crown of thorns hovering over it,
and a single circle blacked out – the 'top' circle of the diagram.
The name of that circle, she said, is Kether.
And the
nightkind served Kether-Kinal, the crown of midnight.
"So,
what does that mean? I mean, absolutely, I get the connection. I
don't think it's some amazing coincidence. But... what does it
mean, exactly?"
"Educated
guess? Ambrose and his boys are a cult, and they worship
Kether-Kinal."
"Right.
Makes sense. So, how does that connect to the hives we kicked the
crap out of?"
"Dunno.
But you want to place a bet that they aren't connected, somewhere,
coz?"
"I'll
keep my money, thanks. Also, speaking of money, new kinds of ick on
the money we just got."
"Yeah.
Just like that."
"Also,
speaking of ick, how much do you think Ray knows about what they
really believe?"
"Educated
guess, again? A big stack of lies. Most cults built around the
horrible stuff are mystery cults; the further in you get, the more of
the truth they tell you. But I'll ask. Tonight."
I stayed
quiet, and the street rolled by, taking us back to the apartment.
There, I pulled out a full dose for Gina... And half a dose, for
myself.
"Looking
for a little solo lucid time, coz?"
"A
little. Thought you and Ray might want some time, too. Come find
me, the both of you, after a bit. Or we can talk in the morning, if
you want the night."
"Decent
of you. But what about your dosage numbers?"
"It's
your night anyway, so that's fine. And whatever we get from me is
going to be wild information, anyway, you know? I can live with it
being pretty off-kilter."
"Good
enough, then. Let's crash."
