Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood (3 page)

"Enlighten me. Please."

"If none of this had happened, I'd still think you were a geek."

Marsh smiled.

"
Actually," Sydney added. "I
still
think you're a geek, but now you're my geek."

"Good . . . I think."

"I love the way you're stepping up," she said, turning serious. "But I also know how scared you are."

Marsh shrugged but didn't disagree.

"We're in this together, Seaver," Sydney said. "I have no idea how this will play out but there's one thing I'm sure of: If my brother is going to finish Damon, then somewhere, somehow, he's going to need your help . . . and you're going to need mine."

She leaned forward and the two kissed.

Marsh held her close, enjoying the last few seconds of sanity before their lives would, once again, be turned inside out.

In spite of his bold promises, Cooper had no idea where to begin his quest.

Though he had all of time and history at his disposal, he felt as if he had to work fast. Damon was a brilliant tactician and Coop had no doubt that he had already formed a plan. The fact that he had resurfaced and gone after Sydney proved it. Damon was very much back in business. In desperation Coop began by trying to track down the spirits that had dis
appeared. He had no doubt that they would somehow factor into Damon's plan, and finding them was crucial.

He first went to the vision of Marsh's mother, Ree Seaver, the spiritual leader of the Guardians of the Rift. From Marsh's house in the Light he stepped through the veil between lives, between the Light and the Black, and entered Grand Central Terminal. Or what was left of it after
the battle between Damon's soldiers and the Guardians. Nothing had changed since he was there last. The vision of the 1970s' version of the train terminal was a wreck. A bombed-out war zone. The train engine that had jumped the track and crashed into the passenger concourse still stood amid the rubble of crushed granite and cement. The entrance to the building was destroyed. The vintage army tank that had caused so much damage still stood where it had fired on the Guardians during the battle. There was an eerie quiet that made the tumultuous scene appear that much more impossible.

Coop walked to the center of the promenade, kicking through the remains of the pulverized information booth, to confirm that the Rift into the Light that Damon had cut cen
turies before was indeed no longer there. Seeing the empty floor where the Rift once existed was the only visible proof of the Guardian's victory.

As he stood in the center of that cavernous building, he was overwhelmed by a sense of emptiness. Ree was gone. The Guardians were gone. It was a dead, abandoned vision. As forlorn a feeling as that was, the fact that it still existed gave him hope. If her vision was there he felt certain that Ree's spirit still existed in the Black. Somewhere.

Cooper descended the stairs to the subway tracks beneath the terminal where Ree's private rail car stood. Empty. There was nothing there to give him any ideas about where else to search for her. He thought of walking to the warehouse where the Guardians had first captured him and Maggie, but knew what he would find there. Nothing. Wherever Ree Seaver was, it wasn't in her own vision.

He thought of Zoe, the daughter of Adeipho, Damon's enemy. With one step he left the train car and
stepped onto a rocky beach on the shore of a calm ocean. The air was warm, the sky brilliant blue, and the sun hot and welcoming. He
turned to see that he was in an ancient fishing village some
where in Greece. Coop figured it had to be the vision of where Zoe lived in the Light when Adeipho fought alongside Damon a few centuries before the year zero. It wasn't much more than a collection of crudely constructed huts surrounded by palm trees. The tranquil beach was scattered with small wooden boats and jumbles of fishing nets.

What Coop didn't see . . . was people. Like Grand Central, this vision was empty. As much as his curiosity tempted him to explore the village, Coop didn't know enough about Zoe to know what clues to look for that might help him find her. Instead he thought of his grandfather.

With one step he was back in the familiar front yard of Eugene Foley. It was a cool fall day, just like always. The autumn-colored trees swayed in a slight breeze. The scene wasn't as eerie as the others, for Gramps didn't normally have other people populating his vision. His white farm
house and tomato garden looked as inviting and normal as always . . . except that Gramps wasn't there. Coop was about to walk up to the house, when he glanced to the house next door. Maggie's house. He turned and headed for it, vaulting over the split rail fence that separated the two properties.

When he came down on the other side, he had made the transition from his grandfather's vision to Maggie's. The sky had grown darker and the season had made the transforma
tion from fall to early winter. The colorful leaves were gone and a chilly wind rustled Coop's hair as he stood between Maggie's house and the barn where her parents had died.

"Hey!" he yelled, not expecting an answer.

It struck him that since he had communicated with the Watcher in Damon's lost vision, he hadn't seen any other Watcher in the Black. Anywhere. He didn't expect them to be observing empty visions, but he had hoped they were still looking out for him. He glanced around, wishing he
would see one of the dark-clad figures standing in the dis
tance in their usual pose, silently observing.

Nobody was there. They had asked for his help and then left him on his own.

Coop strode toward Maggie's house, not at all sure what it was he was looking for. Damon had done something with
these spirits, of that he was sure. Was it for revenge? Or part of a devious plan for a counterattack? The sickening truth was, it was probably both.

Coop was about to climb the stairs that led to Maggie's porch, when his foot crunched on something that sounded
like broken glass. He lifted his shoe to see the remains of the
vessel that had once contained the blood of Alexander the Great. It was one of the six crucibles that were created by
ancient priests upon Alexander's death as a curse to keep Damon from coming back through the Rift. The crucibles had done their job for a few thousand years.

Cooper knelt down and picked up one of the larger pieces. It was all that was left of the crucible that had protected the
Rift in Ree's vision. He and Maggie had stolen it to try and
force the Guardians into a battle with Damon and his sol
diers. Instead Coop's plan backfired and Damon demanded
that he break it or he would kill Marsh and Sydney. Coop would have smashed it to save his sister and best friend, but never got the chance. His grandfather had taken that dif
ficult decision away and broken it himself . . . right there in front of Maggie's house.

Coop examined a sharp piece of golden glass. It had a streak of blood inside that had already dried to a dark
brown. It was a gruesome artifact . . . that reminded him of
another grisly relic. Thousands of years before, in their final battle in the Light, Damon had severed Adeipho's ear and
kept the flesh as a barbaric memento. Damon had given the ghastly artifact to Cooper, telling him that it had a strong
connection with Adeipho (obviously) and by using it Coop would be able to track down Adeipho's spirit.

The crucible had a strong connection with Damon. It had been one of the items that had cursed him for centuries. Was it possible? Would the connection between Damon and the crucible be strong enough to track him down? Coop clutched the glass, feeling the sharp edges digging into his palm. He closed his eyes and thought of Damon, his two sharp teeth and his malevolent laugh. Without opening his eyes he stood up and took a step.

The air grew instantly colder and the sky went dark. Cooper opened his eyes to see that he had arrived in another vision. One he had never been to and wasn't familiar with.

He couldn't help but smile. The hunt was on.

He stuck the glass shard into his jeans pocket and made a slow turn to see that he was in a dense
pine forest. A sharp wind blasted through the trees, whipping the branches about and kicking up leaves that danced through the air. The sky was clear and the moon was full, which made it easy to see. The challenge was to know which way to go and what to look for. He wasn't about to shout out: "Hello? Damon? Ready or not, here I come!"

Rather than pick a random direction that might have taken him the wrong way, he folded his arms and listened. Within seconds his patience was rewarded when he heard the faint sound of music. It was a single flute playing a soft, sad solo.

"Gotcha," Coop said, and headed toward the sound.

Moving through the trees was no problem. The moon offered plenty of light. With each step he grew closer to
the source of the mysterious, haunting tune while his mind raced ahead to what he might find when he reached it. He didn't know where he was, or
when
he was. Whose vision was this? Most important, why was Damon there? For all
Coop knew, Damon had armies hidden throughout the Black. The vision could have been a staging area for a mas
sive counterattack and he could have been walking into a situation that he had no hope of handling without one of the black spirit-killing swords. If he'd had any other option, he would have taken it.

Within minutes he came to the edge of a clearing and a small village that was surrounded by a low stone wall. The collection of huts within the circle were constructed with
stone and earth. They were circular and had thatched roofs that came to a tall point. Wherever he was, it didn't look
like a vision from the twenty-first century. Or the twenti
eth. The structures were ancient-looking. Unlike the pre
vious visions he had searched, this vision was very much
alive, that much he could tell from the smoke that curled up and out of holes in the points of the roofs that acted as crude chimneys. Rather than the welcoming smell of burn
ing wood, Coop was hit with an odor that was more like scorched earth.

Man, what are they burning?
he thought.
Old shoes?

The haunting flute song continued, luring him deeper into the ancient village. He scrambled over the stone wall,
passed one hut, and entered a loose circle of similar huts
that were clustered around a stone well. A wooden two-wheeled cart stood nearby with an empty yoke for a horse or ox. Wooden buckets were scattered about, along with
piles of black chunks that looked like dried cow pies. There were no people, though most of the huts had a warm glow coming from within, which meant that the town was popu
lated but had closed up for the night.

The music was coming from a hut on the far side of the circle. Coop followed it like a moth drawn to a candle. He
thought of walking up to the wooden door and knocking but wanted to know what he was getting himself into first,
so he moved cautiously around to the side of the hut to try and get a peek inside. He circled the round structure, look
ing for a window that would allow him to peer inside, but there were none.

He had come all the way around to the front and was about to reach the door when—

"Stop there!" came a threatening shout.

Coop froze, and before he could react, strong hands grabbed him from behind, trapping him in a bear hug.

Coop struggled to get free but it was no use. The power
ful attacker was in charge. He whipped Cooper around and brought him face-to-face with a massive, bearded man in peasant clothing.

"Who be ya?" the man in front of Coop bellowed through green-stained teeth.

Cooper was too stunned to think of a clever answer. "I . . .
I'm just passing through" was all he managed to say.

"
Passin
' through?" the man repeated mockingly.
"
And
ya just so happened to come right to the home of Riagan?"

"Uh . . . yeah. I mean, I followed the music."

Cooper couldn't move, which meant he couldn't step away and leave the vision. He was totally at the mercy of
these men. While one held Cooper tight, the other strode to the door and pounded it with his fist. Instantly the flute music stopped.

"Come," a voice commanded from inside.

The huge man pushed open the door, and Coop was wrestled inside by the other. Fighting back would have been futile so he didn't even try.

"We found another," the man in front announced.

Sitting on a tall bench on the far side of the hut was the musician. He was an old man with long gray hair and rough
hewn brown clothes. In his hand was a wooden recorder. He too had a beard but looked cleaner and more put together than the two beasts who had jumped Coop. He gave Cooper an appraising look, then nodded to the others.

"Be still, Maedoc," he said calmly. "I will be honoring his visit."

The taller man, Maedoc, gave Cooper an angry glance, then nodded to the guy who was holding him, and Coop was roughly shoved across the room.

Coop managed to stay on his feet and whip around, ready to fight, but the sight of the two hulking men wearing ratty clothes and looking like they had the kind of strength that came from a lifetime of heavy work made him think twice about doing anything stupid.

"We stand ready," Maedoc said.

"Thank you," the musician replied.

The two men left, reluctantly, throwing angry glares back at Cooper.

Cooper smiled and waved back. He then took a quick scan of the hut.

A fire burned in the center, directly under the venti
lation hole in the roof. Crude wooden furniture was scat
tered about. There was a table and a chair that looked as if a heavy weight had landed and destroyed them. The legs were splayed and the wood was freshly splintered.