Chương 354: Book Eight, Chapter 21: Side Story: The Astralist Part II

The men sat in the smoking room, continuing to talk about their lives, but Logan could see that Simon's heart was not in the conversation. He was fidgety and distracted, constantly looking toward the door as if wondering whether his wife might need his aid. Logan couldn't imagine being in such a position. He almost spoke out and gave Simon permission to leave the group, but he figured it was better to let Simon come up with the idea himself. It didn't take long.

"You'll forgive me," Simon said as he stood up, placing his whiskey down on the table between the men.

"I should check on Anastasia. The weather agitates her. It won't be long." He gave a faint smile and left the room.

"You have to wonder if being dependent on her caretaker agitates her as well," Logan said in a whisper. Time went by as the men waited for Simon to return, not wanting to exclude him from any of the riveting conversation about the war or the current state of astral science and the speculation that it might even be used as a method of spying on the enemy abroad. But Simon didn't return. Logan continuously glanced up at the clock.

"Feels like he's been gone longer than he promised," he said. Still, they waited as the wind howled and the castle managed to creak as the air pressure from the storm moved through the place, rattling doors and billowing curtains.

"Surely Avery would have come and gotten us if there was a problem with Anastasia, right?" Logan asked.

"She would," Andrew said.

"She is a sensible woman. I imagine Simon is simply taking his time to get back here. It is easy to wonder which one of them is more dependent on the other by this point." He crossed his legs and took a big sip of whiskey. Logan thought he looked ashamed at what he had said, but didn't see why he would. It was a good question. There was no way that caring for his ailing wife hadn't changed Simon, and possibly for the worse.

"Anastasia has always been a social butterfly, ever since we were kids," Michael said.

"Her conva… convasl… the time it's taken her to get over this sickness in this castle in the middle of nowhere, must have been driving her crazy. I'm glad you could bring Avery to keep her company."

"Yes, Simon and Anastasia were an odd match at first, weren't they?" Logan asked, eyeing Michael with a hint of a smile.

"It seems she was the only woman he was ever willing to change for… I wonder where they are." Logan finished his glass and set it down on the table.

"Alright," he said.

"Field trip." The three men wandered the halls of the great castle, checking all of the logical places for Simon, Avery, and Anastasia to be. The Conservatory, where the women had been listening to music, was abandoned, and the record player was still spinning soundlessly in the corner. The other likely rooms, the parlor, the sitting room, and the study, were all empty as well.

"Avery!" Logan called out, listening to his voice echo through the stone halls.

"Avery!" he yelled louder, to no response except the wind.

"Maybe Anastasia was tired," Michael suggested.

"They could have gone upstairs. They did come from the master bedroom, didn't they?" At that suggestion, the three men quickly climbed the great staircase and found themselves at the ornate door of the master bedroom, which opened easily to reveal a dark room.

"Avery," Logan whispered, fearing that he might wake Anastasia if she was there. When there was no answer, he flipped on the light to reveal that the bedroom was in a state of untidiness he could not have imagined. There was dust everywhere, including on the made bed, cobwebs on the ceiling, and covering the banisters.

"I'm starting to think they overpaid the maid," Logan said. Andrew ran one of his fingers across the top of a dresser, creating a distinct streak and cutting deep into the dust.

"No one has used this room in months, years even," he said.

"Then where has she been lying sick this whole time?" Michael asked, worry and annoyance covering his face. Logan went and opened up the closet to find moth-eaten clothing.

"I am going to guess that there is some kind of infirmary," he said.

"In Anastasia's state, navigating the stairs would be an unneeded burden."

"But they arrived from upstairs," Andrew said.

"Simon is as blue-blooded as they come," Logan responded.

"He would try to keep up appearances for Anastasia's sake." Around them, the castle seemed to creak once more.

"All I know is I would feel a lot better if I knew where they were," Michael said. ~ This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. All Avery could see at first was white. And then, as that faded, all she could see were the stars. They hung up above her, so brilliant and shining, but unlike the stars she had seen before, they were moving. A quizzical look came over her face as she tried to understand what she was looking at.

As she rose back into consciousness further, she realized that she was lying down on a metal table with straps keeping her held steady and immobile. She did her best to move her eyes, with her head held in place, to get some sort of idea where she was. All she saw were large machines with blinking lights and other metal tables like the one she felt beneath her. Above her was a stone ceiling, much of it covered by a strange collection of mirrors that, from what Avery could tell, contained vast galaxies.

She struggled to free herself from the straps but was unable to.

"Help!" she cried out.

"Who's there?" She did her best to turn her head to the left and right until she finally saw someone when she pushed hard enough. It was Doctor Simon Halle, the host of the evening. He wore a lab coat over his clothes; his eyes were hard, though they strained from exhaustion. Anastasia stood next to him, holding herself up against a machine, doing her best to stare down at Avery while also keeping an eye on what Simon was doing. Under the lights in this room, her skin appeared like wax paper.

"Simon!" Avery called out.

"What is this? Let me go!"

"I can't do that," Simon said.

"Not yet." Avery strained, trying to recall the circumstances that led to her being tied up, but all she got back was a numbness and a pulsing pain from her head that indicated to her she had been struck.

"Avery," Anastasia said in her most sincere and sad voice.

"I am so sorry. Truly." Avery eyed her as best she could. It was as if Anastasia was trying to cry but was unable to produce the tears. Still, she did seem truly emotional.

"Anastasia, what are you doing?" Avery asked. The thin woman let go of the machine she was using to hold herself up and carefully stepped forward over to Avery's side, now supporting herself with the very table Avery was strapped to.

"I think you deserve to know what you're getting into," Anastasia said.

"Call it a parting gift."

"She does not need to know anything. It's best if we get it over with," Simon instantly retorted, as if they had been arguing about this before.

"There is no use straining your faculties with grief once you've decided to act."

"Simon," Anastasia said, "you were always honest with me. That was the only reason I never felt afraid of my fate, because you always let me know what to expect. You were so good to me. Why should it be any different for her?" Simon thought for a moment, still pressing buttons on the machine that Avery was unable to see.

"If you insist that she knows, so be it," Simon said. Anastasia reached out and grabbed onto Avery's hand so tenderly.

"Simon really is a miracle worker," she said.

"He won't tell you that; he refuses to see the beauty of his creation. He only cares about the science. All geniuses are like that. But that's the price of falling in love with one, you sometimes have to remind them that the reason they do what they do is as important as the fact that they are able to."

"You are my sole motivation," Simon said with a desperate breath. Anastasia looked back at her husband and then down at Avery, smiling, her thick layers of makeup now giving up the ghost and falling down to the ground.

"Sole motivation," she repeated.

"You have a way with words, my love. As good as Simon is in the field of astral science, he wasn't a match for my illness. All he could do was make me comfortable as I wasted away. Well, that wasn't all he could do. He was capable of something that no other man was; he could prepare for what came next: my death. And when it came, he was ready. He fished my soul right back out of that." She pointed up at the mirror of stars above.

Avery realized now that the stars she was seeing were not stars at all but souls, just as brilliant and beautiful as the night sky. But the longer she stared at it, the more she feared her fate.

"Simon put me right back in my body," Anastasia continued.

"I was among the stars for no more than a few months before I returned to the world of the living. Though his technology could sustain my life, he was unable to put breath back in my lungs or blood back in my veins. But it was life all the same. This shell, though, is tired. It's had its time." She gestured over her body, and for the first time, Avery saw it as it was—a corpse.

To look at a sick person and see their body betray them, the eyes and the mind searched for signs of life, and once they found them, they clung to them, ignoring signs of death. Perhaps that was Avery's biggest mistake: ignoring all the signs of death.

"The astral procedure worked," Simon said, as if he had to reclaim his dignity after his failures had been revealed.

"Partially," he added.

"Her soul anchored, but her body refuses to cooperate. Cell regeneration is limited. Further research is needed." He walked over to where Avery was lying down and restrained her arm further, as if fearing that Avery might break through the leather strap and attack his wife.

"You're strong," he said.

"Healthy. And your soul is resonant with hers. You're suitable." Avery's eyes widened as she looked up at her captor.

"Suitable for what?" she asked.

"To continue with the experiment," Anastasia said.

"For me to live… for us."

"No," Avery said.

"Whatever it is you're saying, you can't. Please, don't."

"It isn't my first choice either, Avery," Simon said.

"You must believe that. But I have tried everything else."

"You're talking about killing me," Avery said. Anastasia laughed, but her body didn't. It was a deep laugh, an awkward-sounding laugh. Avery had heard it many times at dinner and never thought to comment on it because that would be incredibly rude. But now it was clear that her body simply wasn't able to laugh. That must have been more difficult than speaking.

"No killing," Anastasia said.

"No death. You will move on peacefully, and your heart won't skip a beat. In a way, I will be you. I'll live on through you, and you will live on through me. Don't you understand?" Anastasia leaned in right over Avery's face. She looked down at her with pity.

"There's a place between, a place beyond: the astral plane," she said.

"It's beautiful. Gentle, like floating in warm water full of voices you love. It doesn't hurt there. Everything is wonderful, and there is no time, only peace." Her words did not have a comforting effect on Avery, whose tears began to pour so hard she could feel them pooling down at the back of her head.

"You're asking me to just give you my life?" Avery asked.

"No," Simon said.

"I'm taking responsibility for both of you. You will not be lost. You will simply exist otherwise." He led Anastasia around to another metal table and laid her down gently, fitting her with all of the same wires and equipment that were attached to Avery.

"Simon, please," Avery cried.

"You don't have to—""I do. I do have to," he responded hastily.

"I won't lose her again." He moved to the control panel and started pressing buttons. The mirror of stars up above on the ceiling started to move, each of its panes of glass rotating and re-angling themselves.

"You won't be alone over there," Anastasia called from where she had been strapped down.

"I promise." All Avery could do was cry and scream as the humming of the machine built.

"Try to relax," Simon said.

"It's better if you don't fight it." Finally, he reached for a large switch, and with one last look of contemplation, he pulled it. And all Avery could see around her was white light.