Darren Shan - Hell's Horizon

“Perfectly,” I echoed quietly. Then, to Bill, “You were meant to take me to them?”

“Learning the truth about me was supposed to be the end of your hardships. They wanted to reel you in when Priscilla broke the news. I told them to leave you to me. I said I’d be able to calm you down.”

“They went along with that?”

He smiled. “I’m the Al Jeery expert. They bow to my knowledge of you.”

“Where do they want to take me?” I asked.

“Underground, I’d imagine.”

My eyes narrowed. “Do they know about…?” My gaze flicked to the concealed detonator. Bill’s spreading smile was answer enough.

I looked up at the two modern-day Incas and gloated inside as I realized I was a step ahead of them for once. They’d been pulling the strings from the start, but it seemed Bill was playing a game of his own, whose rules they weren’t privy to. Life was about to get very interesting.

“Good to see you, boys,” I said smugly, buoyed by the dark sword of Damocles dangling over their heads.

“It is good to see you also, Flesh of Dreams,” the translator replied stiffly.

“You know what happened with Priscilla?” I asked.

“We do.”

“And at Party Central? The Cardinal and—”

“We are fully aware,” he interrupted.

“What’s this about The Cardinal?” Bill asked.

“Tell you later,” I teased, then focused on the genial monsters. “Bill’s been telling me his side of things. Time for your story.”

The younger man looked for guidance to the blind villac , who shook his head. “This is not the place, Flesh of Dreams. Our brothers are preparing for your arrival. Come with us, assume your rightful position, and all will be revealed.”

“Where might that be?”

“On the inti watana . The underground platform,” he added when I looked blank. “It is the hitching post of the sun, the source of our power, our link to the gods. When the bloodlines merge and flow as one, we shall raise the giant stone from where it lies and the city will be ours.”

“That’s my ‘rightful position’?”

“It is the heart of the city,” he said earnestly, “where all blood mingles. The thrones you saw are thrones of power, thrones of blood. One is yours, Flesh of Dreams, by right of birth, right of will, right of blood.”

“Hear that, Bill? They’ve got a throne for me.”

“Very nice,” he chuckled. “Is there a crown as well?”

“ Is there a crown?” I asked politely.

“This is not a joking matter,” the translator growled.

“Murder never is.”

“Forget the murder. That was necessary but is in the past. We need dwell on it no longer.”

“Oh, I think we should,” I disagreed. “In fact I insist on it. I’m going nowhere till you tell me what it was all about.”

The young man looked again to his mentor. The blind priest thought on it a moment, stroking the mole on his chin, then gave the shortest of nods.

“You had to come to us cleansed,” the translator said. “To grasp your future, you had to abandon your past. That meant severing all ties to your old life. It was harsh of us to strip you bare of all you cherished, but we had to push you to the point where you had nothing but us, no family, no friends, nothing to come between you and your destiny, your blood and ours.

“You must join with us, Flesh of Dreams, because only we remain. Without us you are a shell of a man doomed to lonely suffering and death. Those you loved have died or betrayed you. There is no returning to the life you once enjoyed. None but we of the sun will accept you. Embrace your fate and we’ll make a king of you, a leader of men. This city will be yours and your sons will rule when you are gone, theirs after them, and so on.”

“You had Bill destroy me so you could give me a leg up?” I asked incredulously. The translator nodded. “ Why ? Of all the people in the city, why pick on me?”

“Because you are the son of Dreams made Flesh. You are the union of the physical and mental, the product of—”

“—An Ayuamarcan and a human,” I finished, shaking my head with disgust. “You believe that shit of The Cardinal’s?”

“We empowered him. We provided the means for him to take control of this city. He was a nobody until we granted him the powers of a Watana . After that he had the ability to seize the fabric of dreams and mold it into flesh. With our help he created the Ayuamarcans, ghostly individuals capable of responding to the community’s needs and desires.

“That is why you were invited to Party Central,” he went on. “We knew this was the day of The Cardinal’s fall and wanted you there to hear the testimony from his own lips, to make it easier for you to understand and accept.”

“You’re saying he told the truth?”

“As much of it as he knew.”

“Capac Raimi is immortal?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s immortal?” Bill asked, perplexed, but I ignored him.

“In that case, what do you want me for? From what I gathered, The Cardinal’s left Raimi to run things, a successor who can rule the world alone.”

“No man can rule alone,” the translator said, “not even one as powerful and enduring as Capac Raimi. There must be three, a chakana of blood, as we explained before. Human, inhuman, and a mix of the twain.

“The inti watana has been fashioned with three thrones. One for Capac Raimi, whose blood is the blood of Dreams. One for a member of our ranks, a representative of the world of Flesh. And one for you, Al Jeery, son of Flesh and Dreams.

“Our three streams, united in one powerful chakana of blood, will ensure the longevity and majesty of our city. Inti — the god of the sun — will look upon our trinity and bless us. As long as the sun burns brightly, our city will prosper. Though all else crumbles, we will endure.”

“You’re loco,” I said softly.

The translator smiled and pointed to the window behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I noticed clouds of green fog rolling by the panes of glass.

“That’s supposed to convince me?” I scoffed, as if the fog and their power to summon it didn’t perturb me.

“We do not expect you to believe at the beginning,” the translator said. “In time you will learn to accept the truth. Under the folds of this earth you’ll see wonders that will convince you. For now believe only this — however little faith you place in our spiritual power, our earthly power is undeniably real. We control this city. The Cardinal was our puppet. Capac Raimi will bow to our will. Nothing happens here which we do not control. Is this not true, Bill Casey?”

“True as mutton,” Bill said. They were still to his rear and he hadn’t turned to look at them. His eyes were trained on mine.

“We offer a third of all we rule,” the translator said. “If you join with us, this city’s joys are yours. You can have money and women. Politicians will obey you. Businessmen will pay homage. You need not believe in our gods, but believe this — we can fill your remaining time with every imaginable luxury and pleasure.”

“And all you ask in return is my soul,” I said quietly.

“No. We ask only that you accept us as allies, let your blood flow with ours, and be part of our chakana. Later, you may nominate one of your line to replace you, and free yourself of all responsibility if you so desire.”

“A tempting offer,” I mused aloud. And it was.

“A man could do a lot of good with that kind of clout,” Bill remarked. “Build hospitals. House the homeless.” He winked at me. “Rehabilitate the addicted.”

“That’s true,” I nodded thoughtfully.

“Of course they do say power corrupts.”