Monster Mansion 2 by Dante King (most interesting books to read TXT) 📕

placed her hand against it. Her body shimmered and then vanished through. I glanced at Astrid, who shrugged and followed. I took a deep breath, and pressed my hands against the portal.

The transition to the space on the other side was less disorientating than it had been before. I stepped into the walled garden on the other side of the portal to find it changed. It was no longer snowing. Instead, it was fall, with golden leaves being swirled around on a warm, blustery wind, and the last growth of tall flowers dying off.

Kyrine stood a little in front of us, her hands pressed to the side of her head.

“If I can just find how to apply these memories to this scene,” she muttered. Astrid looked at me, and I nodded reassuringly, but kept quiet.

“Ah, that’s it,” said Kyrine with satisfaction. “I knew I could do it, I just didn’t know how.”

The garden around us began to fade. The light dimmed and the space shrank, until we found ourselves looking down on a long, dimly lit, low-ceilinged room. The floor was bare boards, and the walls were concrete. There were no windows. The only light came from a single row of flickering strip lights in the center of the ceiling. The place had the feel of a bunker.

Astrid, Kyrine, and I were standing side by side with our backs to one of the walls. I tried to move, but I found that my view of the scene was fixed. We must be looking at the scene from the ghost drone’s point of view.

In front of us, there was a long table. On a plastic chair facing us, a terrifying figure hunched over a tablet computer, the light from the screen shining steadily on his face. I heard Astrid’s gasp of indrawn breath as she looked at his mutilated form.

He was a cyborg.

Flesh had been melded with steel, plastic, rubber, and exposed circuitry. He was encased in it, like a black suit of plastic and metal. Tubes and wires ran in and out of his skin, covering one of eyes and most of his head. His hands were still recognizably human, despite the circuits that I could see through the near-translucent skin on the backs on his hands. The hands lay perfectly still, flat on the table, one on either side of the screen.

Was this the Technomancer? But no, I realized suddenly. This was one of his servants. The Technomancer was wanted for his crimes, and this was the most heinous crime of all—creating cyborg minions from the bodies of naïve young cultivators who hoped for a quick advancement. He drew them in with promises of power or by getting them addicted to stim potions, then performed these vicious experiments on them, creating cyborg servants. It was rumored that he had perfected the process, and this creature who sat in front of me now was the proof of it.

“My lord, the army is not ready,” said the cyborg to the screen.

A petulant, threatening voice crackled out of the tablet’s speakers in reply. “Why not? My orders were very clear.”

“The process takes a set amount of time, my lord,” said the cyborg. “We are working as quickly as we can.”

The voice from the screen sounded disgusted. “I know how long the process takes, fool. I designed it. How many losses this week?”

“Nine, my lord. And sixteen successes.”

“Hmph. I suppose that’s acceptable. Any unplanned mutations?”

The cyborg raised a finger to the tablet’s screen and seemed to be consulting a note. “There were… three unplanned mutations, my lord. Two were unviable, and the subjects were recycled. One has been retained for further study.”

The voice on the screen must be the Technomancer himself. I’d have given a lot to be able to get a look at his face just then, but the scene was fixed. We were viewing a recording here, and only data actually in the ghost drone’s memory would be accessible.

“What’s the total count now, then?” asked the Technomancer’s voice from the screen.

“Three hundred in stasis, my lord, not including the mutations. We’re retaining a further seven mutations and testing for stability. We expect to produce many more in the coming weeks.”

The Technomancer grumbled. “It will be at least a fortnight before we can move, and every day Kyrine will be getting stronger. I wish I could come to the lab, but it’s too dangerous.”

“As you say, sir,” agreed the cyborg. “We would benefit from your presence, but the risk is too great.”

“Any news on the Keeper?” asked the Technomancer.

“Only that he exists and has successfully bonded with the dungeon. Our scouting parties have reported nothing further.”

The recording flickered and then grew still. Then, there was a lurch in our view, and the recording began again.

“My lord,” said the cyborg, “the army is not ready.”

I held up a hand. “Enough. Kyrine, switch it off.”

The scene faded, and we were back in the fall garden again. We looked at each other.

“Well, we know that he’s coming, but we also know that he’s still a few weeks away from being ready to attack,” I said. “We have time—time to think about how we’re going to defend the mansion, and time to build up some new strengths as well.” I sighed. “I need to think about this. Come on, let’s go back to the mansion.”

Back in my workroom, Astrid excused herself to go and talk to Selena in the kitchen, and bring her up to speed with what we had found out. Kyrine looked tired and worn.

“Do you want to rest?” I asked Kyrine after Astrid had left.

She nodded. “I think I will return to the dungeon core for a while,” she said. I kissed her, and she smiled as she faded from view, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I went downstairs and