Book of madness, p.28
Book of Madness, page 28
Yes, yes, yes! Then you will kill the others and their spirits shall join the ranks of your Wraiths. And afterward, you and I will take our rightful places among the most powerful beings the Omniverse has ever known!
Ghostmaker considered the Blade’s plan and came to a decision.
All right. Let’s do it.
He gripped the Blade’s handle as tightly as he could and turned toward Neal—
—who chose that moment to shoot his Nullifier at Bad Jack.
Nullifier beams appeared as rippling distortions in the air, making them hard to see and even harder to follow. But Ghostmaker was an experienced Maintenance agent. He knew what to look for, and he saw the beam shoot toward Bad Jack and hit him directly between the eyes. Ghostmaker was impressed. It was a hell of a shot. Unfortunately, it had no effect on Bad Jack.
The entity shook his head in mock pity.
“Guess I should say it tickled so you would feel like you accomplished something, but truth is, I didn’t feel a thing.”
Neal’s Nullifier was jerked out of his hand and flew toward Bad Jack, who caught it easily.
He won’t try that with us, the Mortuum Blade said. He’s strong, but he has no power over me.
The Blade sounded far from certain of this, though, and Ghostmaker wasn’t reassured. He was about to communicate this to the Blade, but then Bad Jack turned, locked eyes with him, and said, “I don’t need power over you, Blade. Not when I can exert power over your wielder.”
Bad Jack opened his hand, and the Nullifier in it shot across the room so fast that it was a silvery blur. Ghostmaker felt an impact, as if some invisible fist had struck him hard. He looked down and saw that the Nullifier had embedded itself in his right shoulder, piercing both his suit jacket and his shirt on its way. He felt no pain at first, but rather, a numb tingling down the length of his arm. His fingers felt like thick, useless lumps, and he lost his grip on the Mortuum Blade. The weapon slipped from his hand and fell toward the floor, but before it could hit, it darted through the air toward Bad Jack. It stopped inches from his face, and the Blade rotated slowly so that he could examine it.
Blood soaked the cloth over Ghostmaker’s wound, and he felt the pain now, a searing agony, as if his nerves were on fire. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when facing such a powerful entity.
“Magnificent,” Bad Jack said. He looked at Ghostmaker. “You came a very long way to deliver this to me. Thank you.”
One of the ivory spheres on the table behind the sofa rose into the air. The Blade flew toward it and disappeared inside, leaving no trace of its passage. The sphere then lowered itself to its previous position on the table.
Ghostmaker had not been separated from the Mortuum Blade since the moment he’d picked it up at the Stygian Market. He couldn’t always carry it out in the open, sure, but it was usually on his person somewhere or close by. But now it was . . . gone.
Blade? Can you hear me? Blade!
No answer.
Ghostmaker had never felt so alone.
Gina was struggling to stay focused, but all she could think about was how much pain Juliana must be in. She was bleeding profusely from the wounds to her mouth and fingers, a crimson rain that pattered onto the laminate floor. Gina didn’t think Juliana’s injuries were life-threatening, but she wanted to stanch the blood flow anyway, just in case. She removed her tie, cast it aside, and then quickly unbuttoned her shirt. She took it off and wrapped it tightly around her sister’s hands.
“Press the cloth to your mouth—gently!—to deal with the bleeding there, too.”
Juliana did as Gina said, wincing when the cloth touched her injured lips. Blood soaked through the cloth immediately, but if Juliana kept up the pressure, she should be all right.
Gina realized then that all the men in the room, Bad Jack included, were staring at her.
“It’s called a bra and it supports my boobs. Grow the hell up.”
The men all looked away, and Juliana gave her a grateful look. She could almost hear her sister’s voice. Thanks, Gi.
Now that Juliana was taken care of for the moment, Gina quickly assessed the situation. The Witch Lady and her son still sat on the couch, watching what was happening but making no move to interfere. Had Bad Jack placed them under some kind of spell or were they waiting for a moment when they might turn the tide in their favor? She wondered if the link between her and the Witch Lady was still active, and she tried reaching out to the woman’s mind. Her vision blurred and then she was looking through the Witch Lady’s eyes, seeing herself, Juliana, Neal, and Donnie. With two of their group wounded, they looked as if they posed no threat to Bad Jack whatsoever.
Gina felt the Witch Lady’s consciousness pushing against hers.
Get out of my head!
What happened to the Insanitarium? Gina thought.
Bad Jack stole it from us and stuck it in one of those white spheres, just like he did with your friend’s knife.
Gina withdrew her consciousness from the woman, her vision blurred, and she was once more looking through her own eyes.
She wanted to get Bad Jack talking so she could stall for time to come up with a plan.
“That offer of tea still good?”
Gina sat on Bad Jack’s left, holding a cup of steaming oolong in both hands. He’d placed his Carapacer on the floor to make room for her. She was cold without her shirt, and the heat from the tea felt good. Juliana sat next to her, an untouched cup of Earl Grey on the coffee table in front of her. Gina had convinced Bad Jack to remove the barbed wire—using his paranormal powers and not by yanking it out—but he’d refused to heal Juliana’s wounds, so she continued to keep Gina’s shirt pressed against her mouth. Juliana was watching Bad Jack with a steely gaze that Gina knew all too well. Her sister was pissed, and she was thinking of ways to get revenge on Bad Jack.
Neal sat next to Juliana. He didn’t like tea, so Bad Jack had conjured him a cup of black coffee. Given how Neal must’ve felt about the man, she was surprised that he not only held the cup but took a sip from it now and again. Neal had freaked out when he’d first seen Bad Jack—she’d have done the same in his position—but he’d recovered fast, and now he looked calm, relaxed even. It was a façade. Neal was watching and listening intently, taking everything in, down to the tiniest detail, searching for any scrap of information that would give them some advantage over Bad Jack.
Donnie sat next to Neal, and he looked like shit. The Nullifier was still embedded in his right shoulder, and that arm hung limp and useless at his side. He was pale, perhaps from blood loss or fear, but Gina wondered if it might be something else. She didn’t know the exact nature of the mystic knife Bad Jack had taken from him, but she felt fairly certain that it helped him create and control Wraiths. Hence the name Ghostmaker. Power that dark inevitably took its toll on the user, and now that Donnie had been separated from the blade, she wondered if he was going through something like withdrawal from a drug. Bad Jack had conjured a black tea for him, with cream and sugar. He held it in his left hand, which was shaking so much that tea occasionally spilled onto his pants leg.
Gina still couldn’t get a read on the Witch Lady and her son. It was impossible to tell what the Witch Lady might be thinking by looking into her multiple insect eyes, and her son’s face was devoid of any expression. He might as well have been a wax figure for all the emotion he displayed. They’re doing the same thing as Neal, she decided—taking everything in and hoping an opportunity will present itself. An opportunity for what, though, she wasn’t certain. Escape? Reclaiming the Insanitarium? Both?
The TV continued playing horrible scenes of torture, debasement, and dismemberment. Occasionally something particularly awful took place, and Bad Jack would chuckle. Bad Jack wasn’t drinking tea or, at least, not anything Gina recognized as tea. He held a huge mug of some greenish-brown swill that smelled as if it had come from a clogged sewer, and every time he drank from its foul contents, he smacked his lips with satisfaction.
No one had spoken for several moments, and the silence was starting to get to Gina.
“You haven’t introduced us to your other guests,” she said.
“Where are my manners?” Bad Jack said. “Apologies. This is what comes from mostly living alone for millennia.” He gestured toward the Witch Lady and her son. “Melanie Banks, my baby mama. Randal Banks, our baby.”
Now that was a surprise.
“So, the portal to Low Town was in the Witch La—in Melanie’s house because . . .” Gina trailed off.
“Booty calls!” Bad Jack said.
The Witch Lady giggled at that, and Randal’s face turned red.
Juliana pulled the blood-soaked shirt away from her mouth. She spoke with difficulty due to her injured lips, but her words were clear enough.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Gina winced, expecting Bad Jack to do something else horrible to Juliana, but this time he ignored her.
“We met in the woods one day,” Melanie said. “My marriage to my first husband was officially dissolved that morning, and when I got back from the courthouse, I decided to go for a walk to clear my head and mark the beginning of a new start, you know? I’d worn a skirt and jacket to court, so I changed into regular clothes, put on my sneakers, and hit the sidewalk. As I walked, I thought about my ex. All he ever did was yell and hit me—a lot. I was glad to be free of him, but it burned that he would never pay for what he’d done to me. Not unless I could find a way to make him pay. And I’m not talking money.”
Neal glanced at Gina. She thought he was going to give her a look acknowledging the absurdity of their situation—listening to a monster talk about her love life in a black tower in a backwater dimension adjacent to the Gyre—but instead he directed his gaze downward.
At the Carapacer on the floor.
Gina responded with a nod so slight that only Neal—who knew her better than almost anyone else—would recognize.
“But then I met Jack,” Melanie said. “I’d walked so far that I’d come to the woods outside of town. My feet hurt, but I wasn’t ready to go back to the house, so I found a path and took it, and continued thinking dark thoughts about my ex. I soon saw Jack coming toward me, carrying that weird-ass gun of his. He had blood on his clothes—a lot of it—but for some reason I didn’t mind. In fact, I kind of liked it.”
Bad Jack grinned as he looked at Neal and Donnie.
“That blood came from your families, boys.”
Neal’s jaw muscles tightened in anger, but Donnie just sat there, sipping tea and trembling.
Bad Jack smiled at Melanie, showing his sharp white teeth. “It was love at first sight. Or maybe it was lust. I honestly can’t tell the difference, but then you humans don’t seem to be able to either. I could sense the anger roiling within her, feel her hatred. It was magnificent. We started walking together, and soon she told me about her marriage and how her husband had treated her. We had our first date that night.”
“We went to my ex’s place,” Melanie said. Now it was her turn to display her sharp teeth in a grin. “Jack showed me how to hurt him in both mind and body, and how to make the pain last. When he was dead, we fucked for the first time, covered in my ex’s blood and shreds of his flesh.”
Gina was glad she’d thrown up several hours ago, otherwise she would’ve done so then.
“I’d originally planned on leaving Ash Creek that day,” Bad Jack said, “but after meeting Melanie, I decided to stay. I’d been living here in Low Town for centuries, so when I moved into Melanie’s house, I created a portal in the basement that allowed me to go back and forth as I wished—and bring Melanie with me for visits. Periodic exposure to Low Town’s special brand of entropic energy—not to mention regular infusions of my, ah, essence—eventually transformed Melanie into the magnificent creature she is today.”
“Less than a year after Jack moved in, my idiot son was born,” Melanie said. “A couple years later his sister Della came along. She was stupid too, but nowhere near as bad as him.”
Bad Jack looked at Randal. “Where is your sister, by the way? It feels like ages since I’ve seen her.”
Randal looked away from his father, as if he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze.
“She had to go into hiding,” he said. He pointed at Gina, Neal, Juliana, and Donnie. “Because of them. Maintenance found our house. They captured Mama and put her in a cell. I told Della to hide so they wouldn’t catch her, too. Then I used the Insanitarium to help get Mama free. Afterward, we came Low Town so Mama would be safe, and I set the portal to close once we were through.” He scowled at the agents. “I guess it didn’t close fast enough.”
Bad Jack frowned. “Why didn’t Della come with you? She would’ve been safer here than in Ash Creek.”
“Well . . . You know how much she hates the cold—and it’s always cold here.”
Bad Jack’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his son. Gina thought Bad Jack might say something, but he remained silent.
“You’re one of the Multitude, aren’t you?” Gina asked.
“Yes,” Bad Jack said. “One of the factions.”
“Factions?” Neal said.
Bad Jack gave him a sharp-toothed smile.
“My people don’t play well with others—including themselves.”
Gina thought about meeting Rachel on the Nightway, how the woman had taken Gina to the Athenaeum and told her that one of the Libri Tenebrarum was now in Ash Creek. Rachel hadn’t told her this out of the goodness of her heart. She’d done it to get back at Brother Nothing to, as she’d put it, throw a very large wrench into his latest scheme. As far as Gina had learned from her encounters with members of the Multitude, each of them was a faction unto themself. Why would Bad Jack be any different?
“We have our . . . disagreements from time to time,” Bad Jack said. He gestured to the X wound on his face. He turned to Donnie. “This was caused by the Mortuum Blade. The wounds it creates can never be healed, not even by gods.”
That brought Donnie out of himself. He leaned forward and peered more closely at the cuts on Bad Jack’s face.
“Can the Blade make Wraiths from members of the Multitude?” he asked.
Bad Jack scowled at him. “Don’t get any big ideas. Besides, your toy is now sealed away in the Rondure, along with the Insanitarium, and several other items of interest.” He nodded toward the white spheres on the table behind the sofa.
“Rondure. . .” Neal said. “I think they taught us something about that at the Homestead. It’s a kind of mystic battery, isn’t it? One made of spheres like those.”
“Exactly like those,” Bad Jack said. “I spent the last thousand years or so preparing for a rematch with the bastard who cut me. I came to Low Town for two reasons. First, none of the Multitude would think to look for me here. No self-respecting member would set foot in this place. And second, I knew that of all the lost objects that flow down the Salmagundi, some would be artifacts of power. Few and far between, of course, but my kind live forever—or nearly so—and I had nothing but time. I built Blackhaven and became ruler of this domain. Its inhabitants—the Remnants, the Dreggers, the Factory—all do my bidding. They search for objects of power, and on those very rare occasions when they find one, they bring it directly to me. The Never-Ever, the Deepsoul, the Umberstone, Bloodflame . . . They’re all part of my Rondure. This must be confusing for you, Neal and Donnie. After all, I appeared to you both as a hunter originally, but the truth is, I’m a predator. And like many predators, I both hunt and scavenge, depending on my needs. And today has been an excellent day for scavenging!
“I have to admit that I was surprised when two objects of power appeared one after the other. I sensed the Insanitarium as soon as it entered Low Town, and I commanded the Remnants to bring both it and whoever held it to me. I was even more surprised to discover the book was in the possession of Melanie and Randal. It really is a small Omniverse, isn’t it? Then the rest of you came, and just as with the book, I sensed the Mortuum Blade and ordered the Remnants to acquire it for me. It proved a bit harder to obtain—you agents were more resourceful than I expected—but in the end, it was mine. And, as it turned out, there was one more surprise waiting for me. You, Neal. Or rather, what’s hiding within you.”
Bad Jack gestured and the images of torture on the TV screen were replaced by a scene of two boys walking through a forest. Neal and Donnie, Gina realized. Suddenly a black-and-silver shape—something with wings, Gina thought—flew towards Neal, struck his chest, and then vanished.
“Let’s look at that again, a bit slower this time.”
Bad Jack gestured a second time, and the scene reversed. When it reached the point where it had started, it resumed moving forward, only much slower this time. When the black shape appeared, Bad Jack held up his index finger and the image froze. It was a naked, hairless humanoid with dark-blue skin and glowing white eyes. Its features weren’t quite human—the eyes too wide, forehead too high, mouth too large and set too low, small fleshy nubs for ears. Most striking of all were the silver wings protruding from its back, formed from a substance that appeared to be equal parts glass and metal. It was completely alien, and the most beautiful thing Gina had ever seen.
The scene returned to normal speed, and the winged creature flew into Neal, and it didn’t emerge.
“That’s an Umbral,” Neal said in a stunned voice. He reached up and touched his chest, as if he might somehow feel the being inside him.
Gina couldn’t believe it. Neal—her Neal—was host to an Umbral, the beings that had founded Maintenance?
“One of the Dark Angels, yes.” Bad Jack said. “I was hunting it, and it hid in you to camouflage itself from my senses. Clever, I’ll admit. It was to be the crown jewel of my Rondure for, with the power of an Umbral to draw on, no one in the Multitude could stand against me—not even the vaunted Brother Nothing.”
“Who was the one who used the Mortuum Blade on you,” Donnie said.
