Dominion by John Connolly Read Free Book Online Page A

syllables. And as he spoke, a translation appeared in the air before his face, rendered in the letters of the Illyri alphabet.
    â€œWelcome,” he said. “It is a”—pause—“pleasure to have you. Here.”
    â€œWho are you?” asked Paul.
    He had almost asked “What are you?” but that seemed impolite.
    â€œWe are Cayth.”
    Meia was circling the being, examining him. He appeared untroubled by her attention.
    â€œSyl?” Meia said.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI can hear no heartbeat.”
    Meia’s faculties were far more acute than those of humans or Illyri.
    Syl reached out with her mind to the one who called himself Cayth, trying to get some sense of him, but found nothing. He was like a skinned, walking corpse.
    â€œIt’s just something for us to focus on,” she said. “It has no life.”
    â€œIt’s a composite,” said Meia. “I see aspects of Illyri musculature and bone structure, but human too. And then there are the eyes. They’ve created a fusion of both species, probably from the scans they made of our bodies.”
    â€œYou told us they were coming, Syl,” said Paul. “Is this what you meant?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œNo, they’re here. They’re all around us. I can feel their presence.”
    â€œThey’re invisible?” asked Thula. He looked unhappy. Skinless bodies were bad enough; unseen beings peering over his shoulder were another matter entirely.
    â€œIt’s more than that,” she said. “I don’t think they have any physical form at all.”
    â€œWe are Cayth,” repeated the being before them, but his movements and gestures had changed. They were less mechanical and mannered than before. Syl saw an expression on his face that reminded her of Paul, a little flick of the left eyebrow that he used when he was amused, or skeptical.
    â€œIt’s learning from us,” she said. “It’s imitating our gestures, our expressions.”
    â€œWe want you to be. Comfortable,” said Cayth. “We want to communicate.”
    Then it tried switching to Illyri, but no equivalent translation into English appeared in the air.
    â€œWhat’s the deal?” asked Thula.
    â€œIt’s simply repeating what it already said,” Meia informed him. “I think it learned English from listening to us talk on the Nomad , and some Illyri the same way. Perhaps it picked up the Illyri alphabet from the ship’s systems, but it has no idea how the English alphabet might look.”
    Seeing Thula’s puzzled expression, Cayth returned to English.
    â€œWe wish to communicate,” he said, again. “We want you to be. Unconcerned.”
    â€œSkin might help,” said Thula. “And maybe a pair of pants.”
    Cayth’s body jerked, his back arching to such a degree that his face turned to the ceiling. He stretched out his arms and legs, and his feet left the floor, so that he became a crucified figure hanging before them.
    And then he was gone. He fell apart before their eyes, muscle, flesh, and bone reduced to a thick red soup that fell to the floor and was reabsorbed into the body of the ship.
    â€œWas it something I said?” said Thula, looking appalled.
    â€œClearly that wasn’t working for anyone,” said Paul.
    â€œIs this preferable?”
    The voice came from behind them, deeper and more organic than the unfortunate Cayth’s. They turned.
    Before them stood a dense hologram, easily seven or eight feet in height. The creature it depicted was black and exoskeletal, like a shadow version of the ship itself. It resembled a hybrid of a predatory insect and an armored knight on horseback, with six long, armored limbs arrayed in pairs. Those on its upper body ended in sharp, striking talons that, as they watched, flared into a delicate star pattern, each phalange capable of independent movement, so that the alien could