Chapter 67 Chapter Thirteen

I spent two weeks at the Sanatorium of the Shrike.Burns healed, scars removed, foreign metals removed, skin transplanted, muscles regrown, and nerves reprogrammed.And I still hurt. Everyone has lost interest in me, except Priest Shrike.The kernel is convinced that Johnny is dead; his trace in the kernel is nowhere to be found; his cyber body is also dead. The authorities took my notes, revoked my license, and tried their best to make things right.Huanwang News reported that gangsters on the first floor of the garbage broke out and stirred up the central square.Several gangsters and innocent bystanders were killed.It also includes the police.

A week ago, word came that the Overlord had allowed Yggdrasil to take Pilgrims to a war zone near Hyperion.I used the teleporter in the temple to teleport to the arrow of revival, and then spent an hour searching for the Dao file alone. The files are held in vacuum squeeze, so I can't touch them.The handwriting was Johnny's; I'd seen his handwriting before.The paper is yellowed and fragile due to age.I found two paragraphs of text.The first paragraph reads: The day is gone, and all that is sweet is lost! Sweet voice, sweet lips, crisp breasts, slender fingers, Warm breaths, soft basses, whispers,

Bright eyes, beautiful figure, soft waist! faded, the beauty that my eyes have seen, Withered, the beautiful form I held in my arms, Withered, soft, sweet, pure, happy— All this fades inappropriately at dusk, When the twilight, the twilight of festivals, the night of love Beginning to weave the dark sutra to cover hidden joys with a veil of incense; But today I have read the missal of love, When he sees me fasting and praying, he will let me sleep peacefully. The handwriting of the second paragraph is very wild, and the paper is even rougher, as if it was scribbled on a notepad in a hurry:

The hand of life, warm and able, earnestly eager to grab, But if in the cold and silent tomb, this ice hand still wants to go, How cold the day is, how miserable the dream night If you want your blood not to flow, Willing to let my red blood flow again, I can see your peace of mind, and I hold you tightly in my arms. I'm pregnant.I think Johnny knows.I'm not sure. I got pregnant twice.Once with Jonny's child, and another with his memory in the Shukron Ring.I don't know if there is an intentional connection between the two.The baby is still months away, and in a few days I'll be meeting the Shrike.

But I vividly remember those minutes, after Johnny's battered body was brought out in front of the crowd, before I was taken away for medical treatment.They were all there, standing in the dark, multitudes of priests, acolytes, exorcists, gatekeepers, devotees... and they began to chant in unison, in the red haze under the spinning statue of the Shrike, Their voices echoed beneath the Gothic vaults.What they sang were words like these: "Bless her, Blessed be the mother of our Saviour, Blessed are the instruments of our redemption, Blessed be the bride of our creation, bless her. "

I was hurt and shocked.At the time, I didn't understand.Now, I don't understand either. But I knew that when the time came, when the Shrike came, I would face it with Johnny. It was nearly night.The cable car travels among the stars and the hail.The group sat there in silence, save for the creaking of the cables. After a long time, Rainer Hoyt said to Braun Lamia: "You also wear a crucifix." Lamia stared at the priest. Colonel Kassad leaned toward the woman. "Do you think Hat Masteen was the saint who spoke to Johnny?" "Very likely," Braun Lamia said, "I don't know."

Kassad stared at him. "Did you kill Masteen?" "no." Martin Silenus stretched and yawned. "Sunrise is a few hours away," he said. "Would any of you want to sleep?" Many people are nodding. "I don't sleep, I'm on guard," said Fedman Kassad, "I'm not tired." "I'll accompany you," said the Consul. "I'll make some coffee," Braun Lamia said. When the others fell asleep, Rachel cooed softly in her sleep, and the three of them sat by the window, watching the stars high in the night sky glow coldly in the distance.