Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack) (20 page)

From the back of the room, Jack said, “What he’s telling you is that in the old days we had some heavy backup, but now we’re on our own. This is the Little Big Horn and we’re not the Indians.”

Glaeken’s lips twisted. “You could put it that way. But we might have a chance of calling in reinforcements, so to speak.”

“The necklaces,” Jack said.

Necklaces? Alan thought. What necklaces?

Glaeken nodded. “The necklaces, plus the right smithies, and…” He gestured toward Jeffy. “This little boy.”

“Would you mind being just a little more specific?” Sylvia said. She was speaking through her teeth. “Just what the hell are you talking about?”

Alan’s sentiments exactly.

Glaeken seemed unfazed by Sylvia’s outburst. He smiled her way.

“To put it in a nutshell, Mrs. Nash: We need to let the Ally know that this is not a dead world and that the battle here is not over; that we are still sentient, and that the Adversary is still active and about to take complete control of this sphere. We need to send the Ally a signal.”

“And just how do we do that?” Sylvia said.

“We need to reconstruct an ancient artifact.”

“A weapon?”

“In a way, but what I’m talking about is as much a weapon as an antenna, a focal point.”

“Where is it?” Alan asked.

“It was deactivated more than a half century ago when it supposedly destroyed Rasalom in a Romanian mountain pass outside a place called the keep.”

Alan’s mind continued to rebel against Glaeken’s words, more intensely now than ever, but his heart, his emotions insisted that he believe.

“All right. Suppose we accept all this at face value.” That earned him a sharp look from Sylvia. “How do we go about reactivating the focus deactivated in Romania?”

“We don’t,” Glaeken said. “All the essences that made it a focus were drained off by the act of destroying Rasalom—or what appeared to be Rasalom’s destruction. The remnant of that instrument was reduced to dust when Rasalom started on the path toward rebirth.”

“If it’s gone and we can’t get it back,” Alan said, “why are we talking about it?”

“Because there were two. The other was stolen in ancient times and dismantled—melted down into other things.”

“Oh, jeez,” Jack said. “The necklaces.”

Glaeken smiled. “Correct.”

“What are you two talking about?” Sylvia said. Alan sensed her anger edging closer to the surface.

“The other instrument—the other focus—was stolen and melted down. The melting process dislodged a powerful elemental force within the focus, releasing it to wander free. But a residue of that force remained in the molten metal. The metal was fashioned into a pair of necklaces which have been used for ages by the high priests and priestesses of an ancient cult to keep them well and to prolong their lives.”

“And the elemental force?” Sylvia said, leaning forward, her face pale, her expression tight, tense.

The answer flashed into Alan’s mind. He suspected Sylvia had guessed it as well.

“It wandered the globe for ages,” Glaeken said. “It’s been called many things in its time, but eventually it became known as the
Dat-tay-vao.
”

Alan thought he heard a faint groan escape Sylvia as she closed her eyes and slipped an arm around Jeffy.

Just then a voice broke through from somewhere in the apartment.

“Glenn? Glenn!” It rose in pitch, edging toward panic. “Glenn, I’m all alone in here! Where are you?”

As Glaeken glanced toward the rear rooms, Alan saw genuine concern and dismay mix in his eyes. This was the first time he had shown a hint of uncertainty. He took a hesitant step in the direction of the cries.

“Let me go,” Father Ryan said, moving from his spot behind the sofa. “She knows me by now. Maybe I can reassure her.”

“Thank you, Bill.” Glaeken turned back to his audience. “My wife is ill.”

“Anything I can do?” Alan said.

“I’m afraid not, Doctor Bulmer, but I thank you for offering.” Alan saw no hope in the man’s eyes as he spoke. “She has Alzheimer’s disease.”

Alan could only say, “I’m sorry.”

But Sylvia shot to her feet. “
Now
I get it!”

“Get what, Mrs. Nash?” Glaeken appeared confused.

Sylvia was leaning forward, jabbing her finger toward him over the coffee table. Her core of anger had fully uncoiled, baring its fangs, lashing out.

“I should have known! Do you think I’m an idiot? You want Jeffy here so you can use him—or rather use the power you think is in him—to cure your wife!”

“Not at all, Mrs. Nash,” he said softly with a slow, sad shake of his head. “The
Dat-tay-vao
will not work against a degenerative process like Alzheimer’s. It can cure disease, but it can’t turn back the clock.”

“So you say.”

Then Jeffy tugged at Sylvia’s sleeve. “Don’t yell at him, Mom. He’s my friend.”

That did it. Alan saw Sylvia wince as if she’d been jabbed by a needle.

“We’re leaving,” she said, taking Jeffy by the hand and guiding him away from the sofa.

“But Mrs. Nash,” Glaeken said, “we need Jeffy to reactivate the focus. We need to reunite the
Dat-tay-vao
and the metal from the instrument.”

“But you don’t have the metal, do you.”

“Not yet, but—”

“Then I see no point in discussing this further. When you’ve located this magic metal, call me. You have my number. Then we’ll talk. Not before.”

“But where are you going?”

“Back home. Where else?”

“No, you mustn’t. It’s too dangerous. It’s better that you stay here. I own the building. You can have your choice of the empty apartments. You’ll be safe here.”

“
Here?
” She stopped at the door. “This place is practically on top of that hole out there—all but falling into it. I’ll take my chances in Monroe.”

“This place is protected, in a way. It will be preserved until the end. You and Jeffy and your friends can share that protection.”

“Why? What’s so special about this place?”

“I’m here. I’m to be saved until the last.”

… and then he plans to make you suffer the tortures of the damned!

Alan remembered Nick’s words and wondered why the old man didn’t look more frightened.

“Toad Hall will be protected too. Alan and I have already seen to that.”

Alan turned his chair and wheeled it toward Sylvia and Jeffy. He’d been on the phone first thing this morning and called around until he found a contractor who could immediately start installing steel storm shutters. He’d offered a substantial bonus if the job was completed by sundown. Now he wondered if shutters would be enough.

Why not stay here? It might be a good move. Alan felt at home with this group, had a feeling they’d find safety here among this disparate, unlikely crew.

Something going on here. A subtle chemistry, a subliminal bond.

But Sylvia seemed oblivious to all that. When her anger-core broke free and took the helm, she’d dig in her heels and refuse to budge. Alan knew he couldn’t talk to her when she got like this. Nobody could. He’d learned to recognize the signs and—when the storm came—to sit back and let it have its way with her. When the clouds and winds had blown past and she was cooler, calmer, she’d be a different Sylvia, and able to discuss it.

He might be able to change her mind later.

Sylvia’s anger could be inconvenient, frustrating, even infuriating at times, but the anger was part of what made Sylvia who she was. And Alan loved who Sylvia was.

Jeffy, though, clearly wanted to stay.

“I don’t want to go, Mom.”

“Please don’t argue with me, Jeffy,” Sylvia said in a low voice. “It’s time to go home.”

He tried to pull away from her. “No!”

“Please obey your mother, Jeffy,” Glaeken said softly.

The boy abruptly stopped struggling. The look Sylvia threw Glaeken was anything but grateful.

“There’s something you should realize, Mrs. Nash,” Glaeken said. “The creatures that attacked your house last night are active only in the hours between sunset and sunrise. They must hide from the sun during the day. However, as I’m sure you are all aware, the daylight hours are shrinking.”

“But that can’t go on forever,” Alan said. “Can it?”

Glaeken nodded. “The pattern will continue. And accelerate. Sunrise was late again today. Tomorrow it will be even later. Sunset will keep coming earlier and earlier.”

“But if that keeps up…” He looked at Sylvia.

“You see the pattern?” Glaeken said. “Shrinking daylight hours, lengthening periods of darkness. The hole creatures will have progressively longer time for their feedings, and shorter periods when they must be in hiding. And when daylight is gone completely…”

“They’ll never stop,” Jack said in a hushed voice.

Alan knew from looking at him that no matter what terrors he and Sylvia and Ba had experienced last night, Jack had seen far worse.

Glaeken nodded. “Correct. We are headed for a world without light, without law, without reason, sanity, or logic. A nightworld from which there will be no dawn.
Unless
we do something.”

“Call me when you get the metal,” Sylvia said.

Alan reached out and shook hands with Glaeken as he wheeled past, then guided himself to where Ba stood holding the door.

“Don’t leave,” said a strained voice.

Alan turned at the door and saw that Nick had stepped out of the kitchen. His eyes were bright again, and alive with concern as he stared at Alan.

“Why not?”

“If the four of you leave here today, only three will live to return.”

A chill swept over Alan. He glanced out into the atrium and saw Sylvia, Ba, and Jeffy standing before the elevator. As he watched, the bell dinged and the doors slid open. Sylvia and Jeffy stepped inside. Ba stood waiting, restraining the doors with one of his big hands.

Alan was paralyzed for a moment. The three outside were waiting for him; the four people in the apartment were staring at him. He wanted to stay, but wouldn’t—couldn’t—without Sylvia. And no way was Sylvia moving. Not yet, at least.

He shrugged and flashed what he knew was a weak grin.

“We’ll see about that.”

Then he headed toward the elevator, feeling as if he were rolling himself toward an abyss as deep and dark as the one in the Sheep Meadow outside.

As the door closed behind Dr. Bulmer, Carol said, “I should go too.”

So soon? Bill thought, returning from Magda’s room.

“Why don’t you hang out for a while?”

She shook her head. “I’d better get home. Nelson will be back soon.”

She waved and let herself out. Something going on there. Bill would have followed, but he had Nick.

He guided Nick back into the kitchen. Carol’s behavior disturbed him, but Nick’s even more. He was acting like some sort of Delphic oracle, transmitting threats and predictions from beyond. Was it madness or had his brush with the abyss left him connected, as Glaeken had said, to the chaos encroaching on all their lives?

“Are you trying to frighten people, Nick?”

“No,” he said as he resumed his seat at the kitchen table. His eyes were tortured. “They’re in danger. One of them’s going to die.”

“Who, Nick? Which one?”

If Nick was actually tapped in, maybe Bill could get something concrete out of him before he went catatonic again. Those four people from Long Island—the woman, Sylvia, was a bit of a bitch, but he didn’t want to see harm come to any of them, especially the boy.

“Who’s going to die, Nick? Who’s in danger? Is it Jeffy, the boy?”

But Nick was gone again, his face empty, his eyes blank.

“Damn it, Nick!” Bill said softly. He gave the slumped shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Couldn’t you have held on a few minutes longer?”

No reply, of course.

He felt a surge of anger, but not at Nick. That Nash woman—talking to Glaeken like that. He was only trying to help, and all he was asking was her cooperation to save their own hides. But Bill had to keep reminding himself that the truth was so difficult to accept. He remembered how he’d fought it for years—decades. And Sylvia Nash was afraid of something. He didn’t know what, but was sure he’d seen fear in her eyes as she walked past on her way out.

He heard an amused voice rising in the living room. He went to see what was up.

“Do you hire out?” Jack was saying as he clapped the old man on the back. “I mean, if I ever have guests who won’t leave, will you come over and get rid of them for me?”

Glaeken smiled, and as concerned as Bill was about Carol and Nick and the whole situation, he had to laugh. It felt good, especially since he wasn’t sure when he’d have cause to laugh again.