“Sorry,” she said, taking a breath. “That sometimes happens when I’m nervous.”
“How new are you?”
“I’ve been a Farsight Mage for ten years and a Daughter of Bast for twice as long,” she said, pushing out her chin defiantly. “What of it?”
“Ten years a mage?” I said. “Officially?”
“Yes. Black Orchids take much longer than the other sects to advance,” Jessikah answered. “We have to master several disciplines before we can become ranked mages.”
“What rank are you?”
“I’m not,” she said, looking away for a moment. “Daughters of Bast are not allowed to be ranked.”
I could sense she was upset by the topic and let it go…for now.
“Rank isn’t everything,” I said. “Especially out here on the street.”
“It is in the Black Orchid,” she said after a moment of silence. “I’ll get my signature under control. Give me a moment.”
“Good plan,” I said. “I’d prefer not to cause an incident in Ezra’s. This is Peaches’ favorite pastrami place. Meat is right up there with breathing, for hellhounds. That makes Ezra’s extremely important. The last thing I need, or want, is an upset hellhound.”
“Understood,” she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. After a few seconds, I could barely sense her energy signature. “Better?”
“Much. Once we cross the threshold, we’ll shift over. Let’s go.”
FIVE
The runes on the threshold blazed with orange energy as we crossed it and stepped into Ezra’s. I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, letting the tingle of energy wash over me as I scanned the floor. I didn’t want any surprises, even though I doubted anyone would try something inside Ezra’s.
Ezra was particular about maintaining the peace in his spaces. I still remembered the meeting with Ken in the deli’s basement. The amount of power Ezra commanded staggered the imagination. Aside from the incredible amount of runic defenses in place, he was able to shut everything down with barely any visible effort.
Not something I wanted to go through again.
The energy of the deli shifted slightly when we entered. By now, most of the customers were used to seeing Peaches and me come in. The pause was caused by Jessikah, or rather what she represented.
It was a barely discernible hiccup in the ambient energy of the deli, almost as if the entire place just held its collective breath. It was subtle, but I sensed it. Paying attention to fluctuations like that had saved my life on more than one occasion, especially after meeting Monty.
I looked in the corner, saw Ezra poring over a book, and started moving in his direction. Several sets of eyes were fixed on Jessikah as we crossed the floor. It wasn’t until they saw where we were headed did that they began to look away.
Some of the observers kept their gazes on us indirectly, using the reflective surfaces situated around the interior. I was aware of the tactic, using it often myself. Knowing about it didn’t mean I was at ease. Some of the eyes belonged to heavy-hitters with angry expressions focused on Jessikah. It was one of those hatred-by-association situations. I doubted any of them knew Jessikah personally, but I was certain they knew of the Black Orchid.
“Have they never seen a member of the Black Orchid?” Jessikah said under her breath, as we made our way to Ezra’s table. “I’m not here to accost them.”
“I think the stares are because they have seen the Black Orchid in action before,” I said, focusing on Ezra. “Just keep moving. No one would dare oppose Ezra in this place…or any other, I would imagine.”
She gave me a brief nod and kept walking.
Ezra was sitting at his usual table. I looked around but didn’t see Mori. She must’ve been in the back, or out on whatever business it was she was responsible for when Ezra was in the deli. I made a mental note to ask Ezra what Death’s PA did when she was out. Did she scout out the potential deceased? Look out for hot spots? Hang around cemeteries? It was a puzzle. If Monty were here, I’d have asked him.
Ezra, as was his custom, had an enormous book on the table before him. The seats around him were empty. He wore his usual pair of half-moon glasses, and peered at me over the lenses for a few seconds, before slowly closing the book. He beckoned to us with a hand, and then pointed to the chairs.
Ezra was dressed in his regular white shirt, with black vest and pants, and his rune-covered yarmulke, which gave off a faint violet glow. I glanced down at the tome; it was easily a foot thick, which placed it squarely in tome territory. To my surprise, the title was legible. It read: Ziller’s Principles on Advanced Paradoxes and Entanglements of Interstitial Dimensions. Looked like he was doing some light reading.
It was easy to confuse Ezra with an elderly scholar, or a professor of some kind, and not the personification of Death—until he let you feel a minuscule amount of his massive, fear-inducing energy signature.
He was releasing some of that energy right now, probably in response to Jessikah’s arrival and the reception she received. It was basically a subtle, Back off or I will completely obliterate you, message of warning. The deli exhaled and went back to its normal flow of energy after that.
No one challenged Ezra for long…and lived.
Once we were closer, he motioned for one of the many servers crisscrossing the tables.
“Come, sit,” he said, “It’s almost time for lunch.”
“Ezra, it’s still morning,” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “We can eat—”
“A healthy pastrami on rye for you,” Ezra said, cutting me off, “and a special salad for you, miss.”
“Thank you,” Jessikah said. “I’m not really that hungry.”
“But you will eat,” Ezra answered. “Then we talk.”
“Right,” I said. “The usual.”
“Correct,” Ezra answered, pushing up his glasses. “Now, let me look at you. You’re wasting away. Are you eating? How was Kali?”
I had stopped being surprised by his questions long ago. Ezra just seemed to know things without having to be told. I guess that was one of the perks of being Death.
“Kali was extra grumpy,” I said. “Not very helpful.”
“She’s always been a bit cranky,” Ezra admitted. “I keep telling her to get out more.”
“She smashed me into a stone wall and nearly disintegrated me,” I said. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“I’m certain you deserved it,” Ezra answered. “She’s not impetuous. At the very least, you’re still here to tell the tale. She must have been in a good mood.”
“My energy signature…”
“Is all jumbled,” Ezra finished, shaking a hand in the air. “No one can fix that but you, Simon. You know this. Stop looking for help outside when it’s inside.”
“I understand, but…”
“But nothing,” Ezra continued, staring at me. “You must deal with this, or it will deal with you.”
“That would be great if I knew what ‘this’ was,” I said. “As it stands, I’m still looking…”
“Simon,” Ezra said, “you have everything you need. Think inside the box.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that.”
“Then maybe you should pay attention, eh?”
“Sorry. Where are my manners? Ezra,” I said, looking at a slightly stunned Jessikah. “This is—”
“Jessikah Onuris, Farsight Mage and a Daughter of Bast,” Ezra finished, with a slight nod. “Welcome. You must forgive Simon. His mind is otherwise preoccupied.”
Jessikah sat with a perplexed expression.
“How did you…?” she asked, then looked at me. “You met Kali…the Kali? Did you tell him about me?”
She reminded me of myself, when I’d first met Monty and found myself thrust into a world beyond anything I could imagine. Shocking doesn’t begin to describe it.
“Didn’t need to,” I said. “As far as I know, he pretty much knows everything I’m about to sa
y.”
“I’m not omniscient, Simon,” Ezra said. “Just well informed.”
Peaches gave off a small whine from under the table, and Ezra held up a finger before I answered. He waved a hand, forming a large titanium bowl inscribed with a large letter P on the side. It was filled with pastrami—too much in my opinion, even for Peaches.
“You don’t think that’s a little much?” I said, looking at the overflowing pastrami. “Even for a bottomless hellhound? He’s going to get immense.”
“Anton briefed me on your plan to put a growing hellhound on a diet,” Ezra said, scolding me as he shook his head. “All the pastrami in this place is healthy pastrami. I added an extra portion because he needs it. If you starve him, he will become irritable; that’s never good when it comes to hellhounds. Especially the puppies.”
My vibrating hellhound fixated on the bowl, before gracing me with his puppy-dog eyes. I nodded and he proceeded to inhale the contents of the bowl with a velocity that hurt my brain to watch. I wondered where all the meat went. When he was done, he turned in a circle several times and plopped down under the table with a satisfied chuff. The snoring started a few seconds later.
“Starve him?” I said, glancing under the table. “He can barely fit in the Dark Goat.”
“He’s a puppy?” Jessikah asked. “I would hate to see what he’s like when he’s fully grown.”
“They can be a handful,” Ezra said, waving our words away and adjusting his glasses, “but we aren’t here to discuss hellhound care. You’re here because you want to know about Tristan facing his yetzer hara.”
“His yetzer what?” I asked, confused. “If that means going all Darth Monty…then yes, his yetzer thing.”
“His shadow self,” Ezra translated. “You want to know what you can do, now that he is embracing his darkness.”
SIX
“Is that what it’s called?” I asked. “Embracing your darkness? Are you saying he’s not fully dark yet? More importantly, can I get him to break this embrace? He’s making a large amount of people twitchy…powerful people, who would prefer to see him dead rather than dark.”
“If anyone can do it,” Ezra said, “it would be you—his shieldbearer. Do you know how?”
“I don’t even know where he is,” I answered, frustrated. “How would I know how to get him back?”
“He has to want to come back,” Ezra said. “The allure of darkness…is powerful.”
“I know he may be close, but he isn’t dark completely. Not yet.”
“Tristan Montague has gone dark,” Jessikah said, firmly. “The elders of my sect sent me here to stop him.”
“The elders of your sect sent you here to perish,” Ezra said gently. “Surely you understand that by now?”
“She’s getting it…slowly,” I said, giving Jessikah a hard look. “What is a yetzer hara?”
One of the servers—not Anton—arrived with a large tray of food. The smell overpowered my senses, suddenly making me ravenous. For a second, I thought I was going to pull a Peaches and drool all over the table.
The server placed an enormous pastrami sandwich before me with deft expertise. The sandwich, which was at least two pounds of pastrami, with the illusion of some slices of bread, defied the laws of physics. It teetered on the brink of collapse, only held in place by large toothpicks. Jessikah’s salad threatened to spill out of her plate and looked delicious. The meal was capped off with two industrial-sized egg creams.
Jessikah looked down at her plate and slowly shook her head.
“There is no way I could…” she started, stopping when I gave her a look.
“Thank you, Ezra,” I said, barely managing to get my hands around half of the sandwich. “This looks and smells delicious.”
“Thank you,” Jessikah said, picking up her fork, still unsure where to begin. “This looks absolutely excellent.”
“Good, good,” Ezra said. “You two eat, and I’ll explain.”
I took a large bite of the sandwich, barely diminishing its size. My taste buds did a happy dance as I chewed. Ezra’s was the best. I could totally understand why Peaches loved this place.
Jessikah took a few tentative forkfuls before joining me in appreciation for the food, with a small groan of her own.
“This is so good,” she said after a few more forkfuls. “I’ve never had anything this good.”
Ezra nodded, evidently satisfied that we were enjoying the food.
“Is there a way I can stop Monty from falling deeper into this yetzer thing?”
“The yetzer hara, or shadow self, isn’t something he’s falling into,” Ezra said. “It’s still Tristan. Everyone possesses a shadow self…everyone.”
“Even you?” I asked. “I mean, how could you possess one?”
“Let me correct,” Ezra said with a small smile. “Everyone who is mostly human possesses a shadow self.”
“Are you saying I can’t stop him from going dark?”
“Why do you want to?” Ezra asked. “What does it mean to go dark?”
It was still too early to be hit by Zilleresque questions. My brain hadn’t been fully caffeinated, but I knew those two questions were important.
“He will become evil,” Jessikah said, with a certainty rooted in myopic conditioning. It was her Black Orchid training talking. “Any mage that goes dark eventually surrenders to evil and needs to be neutralized…before it’s too late.”
“I expect that answer from the Black Orchid,” Ezra said, then turned to me. “What say you, Simon?”
I gave it some thought. Monty and I had come across plenty of powerful, dark beings; some of them were mages, some of them were more than human. Not all of them were evil. Dangerous and scary as hell, yes, but not inherently evil.
“Darkness doesn’t equal evil any more than light equals good.”
“It has been my experience that at some point in every life, a radical choice is given and a radical choice is made,” Ezra said, tapping his nose lightly. “One that alters the course of that life.”
“A ‘fork in the road’ kind of thing?”
“That’s a simple way to see it. Think more along the lines of a pivotal choice that impacts a timeline,” Ezra answered, tapping the book beside him. “You can’t stop the flow of time, merely divert it…like a river.”
“Rivers can be dammed,” I said, thinking I was clever. “We can stop the flow of a river.”
“Rivers are diverted. A dam without maintenance is called rubble.”
“So we can’t stop time, just like we can’t stop rivers?” I asked. “Merely divert or alter the course?”
“Eventually, rivers return to their natural course,” Ezra answered. “The same with time; you only have the illusion you can stop time.”
“Does that mean Monty has to go through this?”
“Right now, he is standing in the schism, this fork you mentioned—walking the razor,” Ezra said, holding out a hand perpendicular to the table, as if about to shake hands. “If he slips”—he turned his hand palm down—“he could slip into full darkness. Does that mean he becomes evil?”
“Yes,” Jessikah said quickly. “Slipping into darkness will only result in his becoming evil. He will surrender to his base nature and destroy everything and everyone around him.”
Ezra gave her a gentle smile as I stared at her in disbelief.
“The brashness of youth is only exceeded by its limited perspective on the deeper aspects of life,” he said. “Not everything is so neat and tidy as good and evil, or light and dark. Despite what the elders at the Black Orchid believe. This world is full of gray, which, if you want to help Tristan, is where you need to go…to Grey.”
Jessikah looked confused. I was really starting to worry about my exposure to mages, because I understood what Ezra was trying to share with her, and where he was sending us.
“Don’t you have some ‘stay away from darkness’ rune I could use?” I asked, really not wanting to go see Grey. “Something in
an easy-to-use form, like a hammer. Then I could just tap Monty on the forehead with it.”
“No,” Ezra said with a small chuckle. “You need to see Grey.” He pointed at Jessikah as he stood. “This one needs to meet a dark mage who isn’t trying to kill her, and you need to find out where Tristan has gone. He can help.”
“He means Grey Stryder?” Jessikah asked. “I’m not authorized to…”
Ezra and I both looked at her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and continued her salad. “Habits.”
“Will Grey know where Tristan is?” I asked, dreading the visit. “Maybe I could just call him?”
“He will know where to point you,” Ezra said, grabbing his book. “He may even be able to help with your confusion.”
“Confusion?” I said, confused. “I’m not confused.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Ezra said as he shuffled off. “Please enjoy the meal. Give my regards to Grey, and tell him he needs to pay me a visit.”
“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that.”
Ezra headed off to the kitchen with a wave.
“Am I supposed to finish this entire forest?” Jessikah asked, looking down at her plate. “It feels as if there’s no end to it.”
“It’ll sustain you,” I said, after taking another bite of my sandwich. “We may not get another chance at food this delicious for some time. Especially if we’re going to go see Grey.”
“Why? Does Grey live in a wasteland where food is difficult to locate?”
“No,” I said. “I have a feeling Ezra wants us to go see Grey for…reasons.”
“Reasons?” she asked. “That makes no sense.”
“Welcome to my world,” I said, removing the bread from my sandwich and placing it on the table. “I moved into the state of confusion long ago. You get used to it. Right now, we need to go see Grey.”
“What are you doing?” she asked when she saw me dismantle my sandwich. “Is that how you eat your food? By deconstructing it?”
“I’m cheating,” I said, taking my plate and placing it down near my ever-vigilant hellhound, who proceeded to disappear the remaining pastrami. “Sorry, he doesn’t eat salads.”
Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel Page 4