Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood (19 page)

"Who sent you?" the man asked in a deep, confidant voice.

"
A Watcher,
"
Marsh answered. "A woman. She sent us here to find the Watcher who stopped Brennus from destroy
ing the Morpheus Road."

"Why?" the man asked.

Unlike the other spirits, this spirit showed presence and intelligence.

Coop answered. "Because there's another spirit running around trying to finish what Brennus started."

"Many spirits have come here seeking vengeance for what happened to Brennus," the man said.

The attacking spirits stood still and quiet, like robots that had been shut down.

"Look, chief," Coop called out. "We're not here to bother you, whoever you are. We're looking for some badass Watcher who took Brennus down. So either point us in the right direction or get out of the way."

The man stood still for a long moment, then walked slowly along the walkway toward shore. The leather soles of his black cowboy boots fell heavily on the wooden planks.

The rest of the spirits didn't move or moan. They stood motionless in the water, staring at nothing.

As the man strode across the bridge, he reached down and retrieved Coop's black sword. After examining it like a curi
ous prize, he shrugged and said, "This has no power here."

"Yeah, we found that out," replied Coop.

"Where did you get it?" the man asked as he stepped off the bridge and walked along the shore toward Marsh and Coop.

"There's been a standoff going on in the Black for cen
turies," Coop explained. "Both sides have those swords. We thought the good guys had won, but Damon had bigger plans."

"Damon?" the man repeated.

"That's the spirit who's looking for Brennus," Marsh said. "He's got a weapon that he used to rip open a Rift into the Blood, and another Rift between the Black and the Light."

The man shot a surprised look to Marsh. "You're saying that spirits can travel freely along the Morpheus Road?"

Coop answered, "Yeah, but that's nothing compared to what Damon wants to use them for. Stop with the questions. Who are you?"

The man felt the weight of the sword, then raised it high and drove it into the ground.

"I'm the one you've been looking for," he said. "Now who the heck are you?"

"He ate people's sins?" Coop asked, incredulous. "Like . . . munching on a turkey leg?"

"The power of the human spirit has few limits," the Watcher answered. "I don't know if the whole feasting cere
mony was necessary other than to help Brennus believe he was actually taking on the negative history of the dead. But he thought it worked, so it did."

Cooper and Marsh were sitting in the dwelling of the Watcher. They had crossed the rickety footbridge to the island, where a small door at the base of the clock tower opened to reveal a narrow set of circular stairs leading down. The Watcher led them to a subterranean room that was decorated with bits and pieces taken from many ages and visions. Most of the furniture was wooden and heavy as if it belonged in a mountain cabin. The artwork looked
as if it had come from a museum, with works by past mas
ters that the boys recognized from field trips to New York. Classical Greek busts stood next to a bronze pirouetting bal
lerina that danced beneath an alien-looking mobile. It was an eclectic oasis that showed no signs of the sad decay that characterized every other aspect of the Blood. It wasn't at all what Marsh and Cooper expected.

Neither was the Watcher. He sat in a chair with his boots up on a desk, flipping a basketball back and forth, looking every bit like somebody's youthful dad.

Or uncle.

Marsh asked, "And he kept on eating sins in the Black after he died?"

The Watcher nodded. "It destroyed whatever shred of humanity he had left. When he was finally sent to the Blood, he was in his element. He rallied thousands of des
perate souls with the promise of escape."

Unlike the Watcher who had sent them there, this man spoke normally with his words coming from his mouth. "But you stopped him," Marsh said.

"Many spirits didn't go along with him. A good number fought back because of the trouble he was causing."

"Trouble?" Coop exclaimed with a laugh. "How can this place get any worse?"

"You have no idea," the Watcher said. "With no true order, the visions overlap."

"We've seen that," Marsh said. "You don't know when you're moving from one to the next."

"Exactly. Spirits try to maintain some sanity by keep
ing to their own personal vision, which is bad enough, but when you pile on the horror of other visions, it makes being here unbearable. Brennus agitated the spirits and moved them around, which created chaos by jumbling multiple visions together and making it impossible for any spirit
to stay within their own space. So yes, he made the Blood worse than it already was."

"He made it hell to be in hell," Coop said.

"I guess you could put it that way," the Watcher said. "A group of spirits banded together to try to return some sense of balance. They captured Brennus and put him in a place where he can't use his influence. He's in a prison within a prison."

"Why didn't you just destroy him and be done with it?" Coop asked.

"I would never end a spirit's life," the Watcher said with total conviction.

"So what exactly
do
the Watchers do?" Marsh asked.

"We help spirits evolve. That's what the Black is all about. Every spirit's journey is different. There's
no set time to spend in the Black. One spirit could exist there for a very short time, others may be there for centuries. We observe and ultimately decide when they are ready to move on."

"So where do you come from?" Marsh asked.

"We're not an alien race, if that's what you mean," the guy answered. "We're the evolved spirit of mankind. We're you. Unfortunately, not all spirits evolve, no matter how much time they spend in the Black. That's why the Blood exists."

The Watcher flipped the basketball into the air and spun it on one finger.

Coop gave Marsh a "Not bad" look of approval.

Marsh said, "But you seem so . . . normal."

"I'll take that as a compliment," the Watcher said with a laugh. "Coming here put me on the same level as every other spirit. I have no unique powers or abilities in the Blood."

Coop said, "You had plenty of power over those spirits who were trying to drown us."

"Those are some of the spirits who fought back against
Brennus. I think they're afraid of me. I'm not sure why but I'm sure as heck not going to tell them otherwise."

"Why you?" Coop asked. "How did you get this mission?"

The Watcher shrugged. "It wasn't the first time I was called upon. It's rare that we step in to try and offer direct guidance to mankind, but it has happened in a few dire situations. The last time was when one of our own felt he was better suited to determine the path of human events than mankind itself. He caused quite a stir in the Light for a while by working to influence the natural course of entire societies, and not for the better."

"What happened?" Marsh asked.

"Mankind triumphed, as it always does." He gave a sly smile and added, "I just helped nudge it in the right direction."

"If it's so rare, why did you come here to help the spirits of the damned?" Marsh asked.

"Brennus posed a threat like no other," the Watcher explained. "If he had succeeded the entire Morpheus Road would have been at risk, which meant all of humanity was in danger."

Marsh said, "But even if he rallied every last soul in the Blood, it wasn't like he could leave. Could he?"

"Not likely," the Watcher said. "But there's no tell
ing what he might have accomplished with the combined strength of that many spirits. Mankind is always evolving, as is the Morpheus Road. The risk was too great. But I still wouldn't have intervened if not for the fact that so many spirits had already chosen to stop him. That's what tipped the scale. That's why I came to help them."

"And haven't left," Coop said.

The Watcher shrugged. "Like I said, Brennus still exists."

"And the Morpheus Road is in danger again," Marsh said gravely. "Except this time there's a way out of the Blood."

The Watcher's expression turned dark. "You were sent here to tell me everything. So tell me."

Coop and Marsh laid out the whole story: Damon's atrocities in life, his using the poleax to tear open a Rift into the Black, and the cursed crucibles that had kept him away from the poleax. They told him how Ree and Ennis's discovery of the poleax in the Light put it back on Damon's radar and how Damon pulled Marsh and Cooper into his web of horror to try and find it. They told of the battle between Damon's forces and the Guardians of the Rift and how the Watchers intervened to send Damon's minions into the Blood. And ultimately, they told of how Damon finally retrieved the poleax and ripped open two new Rifts.

Coop ended the story by saying, "So Damon is here, looking to team up with Brennus and whatever spirits he convinced to follow him."

The Watcher listened to the saga without interrupting. The only sign that he was disturbed by what he was hear
ing was when he occasionally fired the basketball from hand to hand.

"So that's it," Coop said. "The whole twisted story. What happens now?"

The Watcher shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me."

"But . . . the other Watcher said you'd help us," Marsh said.

"Okay. What would you like me to do?"

"What do you think?" Coop exclaimed. "Stop Damon."

"I think maybe that's
your
job," the Watcher replied.

"What!" Coop shouted. "No! You've got to do it."

"I'm sorry. We don't interfere."

"Yes, you do," argued Marsh. "That's why you came here in the first place."

"I came here to help the spirits of the Blood find their own way," the Watcher corrected. "If you expect me to wave my hand and send the bad guys to oblivion, you're mistaken."

"But . . . why?" Coop demanded.

"Because we only reflect the wishes of mankind."

"Okay, fine!" Coop shouted. "Here's my wish: Destroy Damon. How's that?"

The Watcher chuckled and said, "I'm afraid your wishes don't carry more weight than any other spirit's."

"But don't most spirits want to defeat the bad guys and reward the good guys?" Marsh asked, confused.

The Watcher tossed the basketball to him and said, "Good and bad are subjective concepts. Ultimately spirits like Brennus and Damon decide their own fate . . . no matter how wrong other spirits may think they are."

"So then, why are we here?" Marsh asked. "Why are
you
here?"

"I can guide you into making choices that will help get you what you want," he answered. "That's all we ever do. As to why you're here, well, that's up to you to decide."

"This is just stupid!" Coop shouted, angrily jumping to his feet. "We're facing the apocalypse and all you can say is,
'Well, it
’
s your choice. Sorry.'
Give me a break."

The Watcher said, "When I came here, it was to help the spirits deal with Brennus. I didn't do it myself. If Damon is going to be stopped, it will be up to the spirits here to do it . . . and to you."

Coop and Marshall both stared at the floor, stunned. "So we're done," Marsh said.

The Watcher stood and put on his long coat. "I didn't say that. I'm just telling you that the playing field is level. So what's the deal? Do you want to try and stop this Damon character?"

"Of course!" Marsh replied.

"Okay. Then we should find him before he gets to Brennus."

Coop looked to Marsh, stunned. "This guy is making me nuts."

"So you'll help?" Marsh asked, brightening.

"I never said I wouldn't help," the Watcher chided. "I just said it's ultimately going to be up to you. You need to understand that."

Coop nodded. "Okay. I can live with that. I think."

"Good," the Watcher added. "Who's up for a little hunt
ing?"

Coop grinned. "Dude, now we're talking."

The Watcher looked to Marsh.

Marsh stood up quickly. "I am. I owe that guy."

"Then, let's go find him," the Watcher said, and strode
for the spiral stairs that led up and out of his sanctuary.

"Wait," Marsh said. "What do we call you?"

"Whatever you'd like," the Watcher replied.

"C'mon," Coop cajoled. "You're an evolved spirit. Can't you at least come up with a name?"

The Watcher thought for a moment and said, "Perhaps you should use the name I took when I was last called upon to help. In the Light."

"What is it?" Marsh asked.

The Watcher smiled, as if lost for a moment in a pleasant memory.

"Call me . . . Press."