F Wilson - The Dark at the End

Weezy said, “And if he knows we have the Compendium, and knows the Compendium contains the Other Naming Ceremony…”

“… then the last thing he wants any of us knowing is his Other Name,” Jack added, nodding. A thought struck. “Could that be why he put Dawn across the hall from you?”

“To spy on me?”

“Or to steal the book.”

Weezy looked offended. “She wouldn’t! Tell me true, Jack. Do you really think she’d do something like that?”

“I’m reaching the point where, except for a very select few, I’m wondering if anyone is incapable of anything.” He caught her glare, so he added, “Oh, all right. I don’t think she’d do that to you.”

“Thank you. I like to think I’m a half decent judge of people.”

“Well, then, does your judgment tell you why she was moved in there?”

“Eddie gave us a possible explanation.”

Yeah, one that had made Jack very uncomfortable.

“I might have another,” Eddie said. “Maybe the One had some way of influencing Dawn or tapping into what she knew.”

Jack stopped and stared at him. Weezy did the same.

Eddie looked embarrassed. “Hey, just tossing it off. This guy is supposed to be more than human and I-”

“No-no,” Jack said. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds. She lived in his house for most of her pregnancy. Maybe…”

Weezy said, “Well, if he knew I was studying and cross-referencing the Compendium, and he learned from Drexler that you and I had been in the buried town-”

“Wait!” Eddie said, waving his hand. “What buried town?”

“Long story.”

“According to you they’re all long stories.”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me before?”

Jack and Weezy replied in unison: “Because you were a blabbermouth.”

And then they both cracked up.

Eddie wasn’t laughing. “Real funny. A riot.”

Jack turned and stepped to the edge of the deep hole in the basement floor. When the underground corridor below had flooded back in the eighties, a lot of silt must have washed in from the lake, collapsing side walls, burying everything.

“Ras must have decided the safest course was to dig up the special sigil and either destroy it or find a safer place for it. He assigned Szeto the job, Szeto hired Tommy and his crew, but Szeto became… incapacitated and couldn’t follow through on paying the workers. So there’s good news and bad news.”

Weezy and Eddie joined him at the edge.

“What’s the good news?” Weezy said.

“They didn’t find it.”

Eddie said, “I think I can guess the bad news.”

“Right. We get some shovels and replace Tommy and company.”

Rasalom barely recognized the face in the mirror. His right cheek and ear had been severely burned. They were healing but would remain scarred. The disfigurement did not matter in and of itself. He was not vain. And once the Change began and he was transformed, the scars and loss of a hand would not matter. He would be renewed.

But until then, these scars would attract attention. He did not like the idea of people staring.

Well, it would not be for long.

Then again, it might be a very long time if he did not locate that baby. He had to return to the mainland-now.

He left the bathroom and made his way through the front room, feeling stronger, and somewhat steadier on his feet, but still nowhere near who he had been forty-eight hours ago. He needed to lean on the furniture.

“Where are you going?” the cow said as he passed her.

She remained on the floor beside her dead dog, caressing the fur of its carcass. How long would she stay there? Until it rotted?

He didn’t answer her. Instead he opened the front door and stepped outside. The air was icy but still, and the sky a speckled black dome. With so little light pollution here, he could make out the crowded stars and dust lanes of the Milky Way arching above him.

If his plans held, all this would change-day would become night, and the stars would mutate into new formations.

The South Fork of Long Island glowed faintly straight ahead and to his right. He raised his arms to each side, spreading them like wings. He stood swaying, a human cross, then willed himself to rise.

Nothing happened.

He tried harder, but remained earthbound.

Unease filtered through him. Was it because he was still so weak?

He lowered his arms and stared at the stump of his left wrist. Or had the loss of his hand affected his mastery over gravity? Through the years he’d used that mastery judiciously and with caution-it wouldn’t do to be seen floating in the air-and had found it of limited use. An occasional convenience. But now, when he needed it, it had deserted him.

“What are you doing out there?” the cow called from behind him. “Come in here right now before you catch your death of cold.”

No, he would not catch his death from a cold or any other infection. Viruses and bacteria had no chance against his immune system. But a too-low body temperature could stop his heart like anyone else’s.

Perhaps it was just as well he couldn’t lift in his weakened condition. The ability might fail him while airborne. He needed more strength.

He could go back inside and begin slow work on the cow with a knife. No one would hear her screams as he fed on her agony and fear. But he saw no guarantee that would be enough. He would most likely have to take the boat back to the mainland anyway. That meant witnesses. And if evidence were found in the house, he would be subjected to the inconvenience of a police investigation.

All reasons why he rarely harmed anyone himself. So much better to induce someone else to commit an atrocity.

Patient… he must be patient.

He returned to the house.

“How much farther, do you think?” Eddie said, panting.

Jack and Eddie were both in the hole, digging their way east along the dirt-filled subterranean corridor. They’d fill buckets with the excavated dirt, which Weezy would pull up on ropes and dump into the basement.

Jack had driven down to Spurlin’s Hardware and bought shovels, an aluminum ladder, lanterns, and the rest of the equipment. Then he’d picked up sandwiches and drinks at the Krauszer’s down on 206.

“We should be getting close,” Jack said. He looked back and up toward the hole in their ceiling and basement’s floor. “What do you think, Weez?”

Her face appeared in the opening. “If memory serves-”

“And it usually does,” Jack said.

“-you should have just a few more feet to go. If…” She hesitated.

“If what?”

“If the flood didn’t wash it deeper into the passage.”

Jack remembered the force of the water as it had surged against him back when they were teens. Quaker Lake lay to the west, just beyond the other end of the passage. That September, swollen by record September rains, it had broken into the passage, flooding it and nearly drowning Jack.

“If it moved even ten feet, we’re sunk. We’re going to have to find Tommy and company and pay them ourselves. No way the three of us can dig that far.”

“We don’t have the authority to do that,” Eddie said. “This Szeto guy must have cleared it with the Council first. No way they’re going to clear it for us.”

“Who says they have to know? We can-”

“Hey, guys!” Weezy said in a hushed voice. “Quiet for just a minute.”

Jack glanced at Eddie and they shut up. Finally Jack said, “What’s up, Weez?”

Her voice filtered from above. “I swear I heard someone upstairs.”

Jack didn’t like that. He climbed the ladder and retrieved his Glock from his jacket pocket.