by Tim Waggoner
“But we have more important things to deal with right now,” Nicola said. “You know Emory isn’t dead, right?”
Sudden anger cut through his numbness, and he whipped around to face Nicola.
“What the fuck are you talking about? We saw her goddamned head!”
His voice grew louder as he spoke until he was yelling. The other patrons in the bar turned to look at him for a moment, then turned away, as if his outburst wasn’t interesting enough to hold their attention.
Nicola remained calm as she went on. “Do you remember what happened to the head after the Harvest Man picked it up?”
“I’ll never forget it. He did something to it that made it liquefy.” Once more he saw the Harvest Man get down on his hands and knees, saw the creature’s long black tongue extend, heard the soft, wet sounds of it lapping at the viscous substance that had been his daughter’s head.
“The Harvest Man didn’t do that to her,” Nicola said.
Jayce was so caught up in the horrible memory of the Harvest Man ingesting Emory’s remains that it took him a moment to understand Nicola’s words.
“It sure as hell wasn’t a natural process!”
“A very unnatural one,” she said. “Both Ivory—” She stopped then, eyes glistening. She grabbed another shot glass, downed its contents, and then wiped tears from her eyes. “Sorry. Ivory and I weren’t close, but I considered her a friend. At any rate, we both noticed patches of green skin on the head. Did you see them?”
He didn’t want to revisit the image of Emory’s severed head, but he forced himself to picture it anyway. He saw the Harvest Man holding it in his palm, saw the greenish patches on the flesh.
“Yeah.”
“The head was already in the process of liquefying when Ohio Pig brought it into the club. It’s a telltale sign of the Underborn. It’s what happens when one of them dies.”
Jayce almost stood, turned his back on Nicola, and walked away. He’d experienced so many bizarre things in the last day, been introduced to too many strange concepts and ideas, and he didn’t think he could take any more. But he made himself remain seated and listened. For Emory.
“What are the Underborn?” he asked in a tired voice.
“I don’t know much about them,” Nicola confessed. “If Ivory were still alive.…” She gave her head a single shake, as if to refocus her thoughts. “They show up in Shadow from time to time. They look like real people, walk and talk like them, but they’re artificial. Robots made out of flesh and blood instead of metal and circuitry.”
“So that wasn’t Emory’s head? It was the head of, what? Some kind of clone?”
Nicola nodded.
“Like I said, I don’t know much about them. Mostly I’ve just heard rumors. They’re supposed to act a little odd sometimes, as if they don’t quite understand real people and aren’t sure how to interact with them. Among Shadowers, if someone does or says something awkward, one of their friends might say, ‘Don’t be such an Underborn,’ that kind of thing.”
Jayce wondered what constituted odd behavior to a Shadower, but he decided not to ask.
“I don’t know what the name means,” Nicola said. “My best guess is it’s a reference to them being less than human. They’re born to be under us.”
Jayce could feel himself starting to hope again, and that scared him as much, if not more, than anything that had happened to him in the Cannery so far. He wasn’t sure he could take hoping that Emory was still alive, only to discover he was wrong again. The moment that Ohio Pig had tossed her head – a duplicate’s head – onto the table had been the absolute worst moment of his life, and he didn’t think he could go through another experience like that without it killing him. But he couldn’t stop hope from rising within him. He was Emory’s father. He loved her and he’d do anything to help her. Even if it meant his hope would turn on him and destroy him in the end.
“So you think one of these Underborn copied Emory somehow?”
“Yes. That’s what they’re supposed to do, at least according to the stories. But they’re imperfect copies. That’s why they dissolve shortly after they die. Whatever they’re made of, it can’t hold together without a lifeforce animating it.”
“Where do you suppose Ohio Pig found Emory’s doppelgänger? If we knew, it might give us a lead on where the real her is.”
“He could’ve encountered the duplicate anywhere,” Nicola said. “There’s no way of knowing.”
Jayce was sorry he’d attacked the man, not that the fucker hadn’t deserved it for the way he’d tossed Emory’s – no, the Underborn’s – head onto the table in front of him, but because now the Pig wouldn’t be motivated to help him anymore.
Jayce’s anger had mostly left him now, and he felt a pleasant warmth from the shot he’d drank. It felt so good, in fact, that he took the opportunity to down his second. It didn’t hit him as hard as the first, but the warmth inside him intensified, and he felt himself relax a little. Now that there was a possibility that Emory was still alive, his mind turned toward the memories that had come back to him while Nicola had been getting them drinks.
The first memory – the night he and Mackenzie had told Emory they were getting divorced – was the most painful memory he had. He sometimes thought that, if there was a Hell, for him it would be reliving that night over and over. The hurt he – and Mackenzie, too, of course – had done to that little girl could never be undone, not even in a realm like Shadow where dark miracles were not only possible but a common occurrence.
But the second memory, the one of coming home sick to find Emory in the basement engaging in some sort of occult sex act, that one had been hidden from him, and given how disturbing it was, he wished it had remained so. It was further evidence of Emory’s seduction by Shadow – quite literally, in this case – but as bad as that was, the way he’d dealt with the Sanguinem Seminis was far more disturbing to him right now. He assumed the memory had been triggered by seeing the Harvest Man in Crimson Splendor, and more to the point, seeing the way he killed people – perhaps even fed on them – by breathing darkness. Jayce had done the same thing that day in the basement. He hadn’t tried to, it had just happened. And then, as was usual with such experiences, he’d forgotten it almost immediately. He almost wished he could forget it again, forget everything that had happened since he’d set foot inside the CrazyQwik. But he needed to remember now, for Emory’s sake, if no other reason.
Had the Harvest Man done something to him that day in the mall restroom, changed him somehow? Made him into a monster like him? Or at least kind of like him? Jayce had used the darkness inside him to help Emory, and as far as he knew, he’d never used it again. He had no way of knowing how many other memories he’d repressed over the years, and how many more might return to him when he least expected it.
The thought that he had the Harvest Man’s darkness inside him terrified Jayce. It was like discovering his body was riddled with cancer. What would that darkness do to him, what had it already done? Nicola had told him that Shadow changed people. If he stayed in the Cannery searching for Emory, how much more would it change him?
“Something wrong?” Nicola asked.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.” He gave her a weak smile. “It’s all a lot to process, you know?”
She nodded her understanding. Jayce didn’t intend to tell her about what had happened in the basement or about what he feared lived inside him. He was afraid she wouldn’t trust him if she knew, might even refuse to help him search for Emory anymore. He needed her help, and he didn’t want to say anything that might scare her off. He knew that wasn’t fair, that she deserved to know he could possibly be a threat to her. But finding Emory was his main – his only – responsibility, and he’d do whatever it took to fulfill it. So…he was a monster, at least partially. He decided to put that aside for now and concentrate on Emory. He’d had a l
ot of experience not thinking about uncomfortable things over the years, and if he wasn’t going to forget that day in the basement again, he could at least do his best not to dwell on it. He had work to do.
“I can’t believe the Harvest Man’s real,” Nicola said. She downed another shot, then she looked at him for a long moment before speaking again. “Do you think the Harvest Man showed up because of you? Trevor said you smelled like him.” Her tone was casual, almost too much so, as if she were making a deliberate attempt not to sound suspicious.
“I think he might’ve been the being I encountered in the mall restroom when I was a kid. Maybe that’s what Trevor smelled. Otherwise, I don’t have any connection to him.”
He thought of the single word the Harvest Man had ‘spoken’ to him.
Soon.
He thrust the thought from his mind and concentrated on keeping his expression neutral.
Leave it alone, Nicola, he mentally urged. Please.
She looked at him a few seconds longer, as if trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. Finally, she smiled. “It was very brave of you to attack him like that. Suicidally stupid, but brave.”
“Thanks – I think.”
“Whatever the reason the Harvest Man appeared, I think we should keep an eye out for him – just in case for some reason he is following you.”
“Agreed.”
Who knows? Jayce thought. Maybe having some Shadow inside him might turn out to be an advantage. If it helped him find Emory, it would be worth it, even if it meant he would never be fully human again.
“Someone else we’re going to have to watch out for is Ohio Pig,” Nicola said.
“Why?” Jayce asked. “If what he killed was an Underborn masquerading as Emory, then he didn’t hurt her, right? It was a real dick move of him to bring the head into Crimson Splendor, but.…” He paused. “Oh. He’s probably pissed that I broke his nose. And his teeth.”
“You think? Right now, your name is at the top of his shit list, and I doubt it’ll matter to him that you’re not a Shadower. Sooner or later he’s going to come looking for you, and when he does.…”
“So I’ll just have to hope for later,” Jayce said. He wondered what the Pig would do if he knew of Jayce’s connection to the Harvest Man. Scratch that. He didn’t have to wonder. The lunatic would kill him without a moment’s hesitation.
“What do we do next?” Jayce asked. “Ivory said she was going to ask around about Emory, but that’s not going to happen now.”
Nicola swallowed another shot. Her hands no longer shook and she was calmer than when they’d got here, but otherwise, she showed no sign that the alcohol affected her. How much was she used to drinking? Jayce had only had two shots of that stuff, and that was more than enough for him right now.
“We could try the bookstore,” she said. And when Jayce gave her a blank look, she added, “Where Emory bought her copy of The Book of Oblivion.”
Jayce remembered the bookmark folded in his wallet. He nodded.
“We can also try the place where she purchased the Pink Devil.”
Jayce didn’t like the sound of that, especially after what Emory’s monstrous sex toy had done to him. But at this point he was willing to give almost anything a try. He nodded again, although this time with less enthusiasm.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Nicola finished the last of her shots, and then she looked longingly at the ones Jayce hadn’t drank. He thought for a moment that she might down those too, but she stood. Jayce did so as well, and the two of them headed for the door.
No one paid any attention to them as they left.
* * *
As they stepped into the night, Nicola lost her balance. She grabbed hold of Jayce’s arm to steady herself, smiled, and said, “Sorry,” but she didn’t let go of his arm. He didn’t think too much of it. He figured the booze had caught up with her, that was all.
“I know a shortcut,” she said, and before Jayce could react, she steered him into the alley next to the bar. After encountering the dog-eaters last night, Jayce was less than comfortable venturing into any of the Cannery’s alleys. He started to tell Nicola this, but before he could speak, she turned and pushed him against the alley’s brick wall.
At first, Jayce thought Nicola was attacking him, that she’d never really been interested in helping him find Emory, that she was just another predator hunting in Shadow, and she’d finally decided to take down her prey. But then she pressed her body against his, reached up to take hold of his head with both hands, leaned forward, and kissed him.
Jayce was caught off guard, and for several moments he did nothing. He didn’t kiss her back, and he made no move to touch her. Her body felt hard against him, as if she worked out, and her hands held his head in a firm grip. Her woody acorn scent suffused his nostrils, along with the tang of sweat and arousal. Her lips were soft and moist, and she kissed him so gently it was like being touched by a cloud. Her tongue flicked out to gently brush his lips, but she didn’t try to insert it into his mouth. His conscious mind might have been too shocked to respond to her, but his body had no difficulty doing so. His cock swelled and stiffened, achieving full erection faster than he had in years. He was still sore from the Pink Devil’s ministrations, and the erection brought with it a dull ache that, in its own way, wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
It had been so long since Jayce had kissed a woman that he’d almost forgotten what it was like, the simple but powerful feeling of closeness and connection. His hands moved to her waist, and he leaned into her and finally returned her kiss. It didn’t go any further than that. He didn’t move his hand to one of her breasts, and she didn’t grab hold of his crotch and start kneading his swollen cock. They just kissed, and after several moments, Nicola gently pulled away, smiling.
“Shortcut, huh?” Jayce said.
Nicola’s smile became a grin. “I lied.”
She took his hand and led him back to the sidewalk, and they started walking north.
Chapter Ten
Nicola led him deeper into the Cannery, where the shadows became darker and seemed almost alive. As they walked, Jayce kept watch for both the Harvest Man and Ohio Pig. He saw no sign of either, though, and the two of them reached the bookstore without incident.
Tainted Pages had no sign or display window. Its name was painted on the door in simple black letters that were neat and precise. The door looked old, and Jayce expected it to creak when Nicola opened it, but it made no sound. They’d continued holding hands after leaving the alley, but now Nicola released his hand as she stepped inside the store. He felt a mild pang of disappointment and then chided himself for acting like a horny teenager. He followed Nicola inside.
The smell of decaying paper hit him first, so strong that he imagined he could feel particles of wood pulp scratching the inside of his nasal passages as he inhaled. The next thing that struck him was how cramped the place was. The shelves – all of which were crammed to overflowing with books, scrolls, and tablets made from paper, vellum, parchment, cloth, wax, and even stone – were set so close together that there was only room for one person at a time to move between them, and not a particularly big person at that. There were no signs to indicate separate sections, and no labels on the shelves, either. Many, if not most, of the works were written in languages other than English, but as near as Jayce could tell, none of them were alphabetized. The ceiling lights were uncovered low-watt bulbs that did little to illuminate the place, and he wondered how anyone was supposed to find books if there wasn’t enough light to read by. Then again, he imagined the denizens of Shadow weren’t overly fond of light anyway.
Nicola led the way through a twisting, turning maze of shelves, and although there were no stairs or obvious inclines or declines, Jayce had the sense that at times they were ascending or descending. They occasionally came across browsing customers, and they
were forced to make their way awkwardly past them as best they could. As they walked, Jayce found himself thinking about the darkness that had emerged from the Harvest Man – the same darkness that had come from inside him when he’d discovered Emory in the basement being fucked by those things. What was it? Was it inside him right now, lying coiled somewhere deep within his being, quiescent, waiting patiently for when Jayce brought it forth again? And what if it decided to came out on its own? He hadn’t willed it to emerge and attack the Sanguinem Seminis. It just had. The darkness hadn’t made an appearance when the dog-eaters had hassled him or when he thought Ohio Pig had beheaded Emory. It hadn’t even emerged when the Harvest Man showed up at Crimson Splendor. And if the darkness hadn’t come forth any of those times, he figured the odds were good that it would remain sleeping inside him. Maybe the shock of seeing Emory being held in midair by the creatures she was fucking – coupled with how ill he had been – had lowered whatever defenses he had in place to keep the darkness from coming out. He needed to be careful, sure, but it wasn’t as if he were a bomb ready to explode at any moment.
Keep telling yourself that, Mother said. Repeat it often enough and you might even start to believe it.
Jayce had no sense how long they traveled through the store, but eventually the space between the shelves began to widen, and they came to an open area containing a circular counter behind which a man stood. An old-fashioned cash register, the kind of thing with large keys to press down instead of buttons, rested on the counter next to him.
As Jayce and Nicola approached, the man gave them a smile and said, “Can I help you?”
“They call him the Bookman,” Nicola whispered in Jayce’s ear. “No one knows his real name.”
The Bookman was in his forties, wore glasses, a light blue shirt with a blue striped tie, and sported a neatly groomed black mustache and goatee. He put Jayce in mind of a high school English teacher, the kind that all the kids liked, even if his class was boring.