by Joey Ruff
“Right,” I said. “It’s all good in theory, except that we can’t bloody well find Ezra. The sacks only work if you have a connection to the person what’s gone missing. We don’t.”
“I do,” Hux said. “As it turns out, I still have the presence to activate the sack.”
“Give that doll a cracker,” I said.
“We walked the yard,” DeNobb said. “Near as we can tell, Ezra is north. Probably in town. Nadia’s somewhere to the south.”
“Funny thing you mention town.” I didn’t so much as look at DeNobb as I said it but looked straight at Hux. “While I was bumbling about, as you so succinctly put it, I stumbled across an army of Alfar heading directly for town. They were armed, Hux. As for war.”
“It’s Ezra,” he said. “I had a feeling.”
“The Alfar are the good guys. In a manner of speaking.”
“What are the Alfar?” DeNobb asked.
“Light Elves,” I said. “What do they want with Ezra?”
“Since the factory, I’ve given the subject considerable thought,” Hux said. “If what I believe is true, Ezra has found a spell to reverse her aging, giving her a youthful appearance. However, with the amount of power that she would need to conduct the spell, she and her coven had tapped into a Ley Line, as we had discussed. Once the members of the coven were chased off, she continued the spell, but by herself was unable to contain the collateral bleed.”
“What does any of that bloody mean?”
If it were possible, Huxley took a deep breath and sighed. But it wasn’t, because he didn’t have lungs to breathe with. “Ley energy is spiritual energy. Spiritual perversions bleed over into Eldamar, which is a spiritual plane.”
“So since she’s polluting their waters, they’re coming to shut her down?”
“Essentially.” He was quiet for a minute.
“Then this is all your fault,” I said.
“How so?”
“Because you fucking cheated on her, Hux. She didn’t feel good enough. You know women. Maybe she thought if she were young and pretty, you wouldn’t stray. Then you died, but the damage had been dealt already. You shattered her bloody esteem.”
“I… I hadn’t thought of that,” Hux said. “We have to stop them. We have to save her.”
“No. We have to find Nadia. Ya know, your bloody daughter. Did you forget about her?”
“Nadia will be fine, Swyftt.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the Seeker Sack doesn’t work on the dead.”
“So we just put our search on hold for…what? To ease your guilty conscience?”
“Because the Alfar will destroy the town looking for her. They have a singular purpose. Millions will die just for standing in their way.”
“I don’t think there’s a million people in the town,” DeNobb said. Hux and I both turned to look at him. “Right. Not the point. Sorry.”
“Fine,” I said. “How in the bloody hell do you propose we do that? I have little ammo. DeNobb doesn’t know shit yet, and you’re a foot tall, Hux.”
“But what if I weren’t?”
“Great. Pointless guessing games. Let’s waste our time talking about hypotheticals while the town burns. Let’s just sit and play the fucking fiddle while we’re at it.”
“Swyftt,” DeNobb said. “We have a plan. We’ve already kind of been working on it.”
I stopped and looked at him. “What?”
DeNobb picked Huxley up and turned, walking back into the shed. I shook my head as I realized what they were talking about.
I followed them into the shed. “This is a bad idea,” I said to Huxley. “If Ezra, with all her borrowed, dark power couldn’t get this bloody thing to work, what makes you think you can? I didn’t think you had the power anymore?”
DeNobb was kneeling in the middle of the shed, right at the feet of the golem. The creature had been exposed, the tarp pulled completely off, and the golem was just sitting there in its childlike pose, legs out in front, hands on its knees. It was bulkier than I’d remembered, with wider shoulders, a thicker torso. It was bigger than a normal man, but I couldn’t tell how tall from the way it was sitting and slouching.
Unless I’d missed it last time, the golem had also been newly decorated. The arms and chest were covered in tribal and cultic symbols. For the most part, they weren’t unfamiliar to me.
I stopped just behind DeNobb and watched what he was staring at, the blank slate of its puppet face. He picked a black sharpie marker from the floor, along with a folded square of paper, and started tracing the lines.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Huxley said from behind me. When I turned, I saw him standing on the work bench. “Ezra’s problem with the golem wasn’t a lack of power. It was a lack of desire, lack of will. She went through the motions to create the shell, but she didn’t really know what she was doing. She was going off a story I had told her eleven years ago. A tale of a Jewish rabbi.”
On the table beside him, I saw a few of the boxes had been opened. One in particular was the one I’d found the Mandrake in previously, which they’d undoubtedly used for the Seeker sacks. Huxley was standing near the smallest box, the one with the ornate letter H on the side.
“While she didn’t know the first thing about constructing a golem, Ezra was an expert at creating poppets.”
I looked back at the golem, remembered my earlier thought about it looking like a marionette without strings. “You’re saying she made a giant voodoo doll?”
“Indeed. A large doll. Then she slapped mud and clay over the top to give it a hard shell and wove sticks and burlap to complete the appearance. The problem is, the poppet is blank. She never fashioned it, bound it, to anyone. What you need to do is complete it.”
“How? Like I know the first thing about that shite.”
“Everything is ready. DeNobb has been preparing the outside. You just need to add the taglock and say the proper incantation.”
“Taglock?”
“A piece of the person you are binding it to.” He motioned to the box with the H. “These three teeth and the sprig of hair is all that remains of my body, Swyftt.”
“Seriously? And you want to, what? Help us fight?”
“The golem will provide muscle.”
“This is just a working theory,” I said.
“He says it will work,” DeNobb said. “I believe him.”
“You’d believe it would snow tomorrow if your little radar thingy told you so.”
“It will work,” Huxley said. “Ezra did her planning. She wanted it to support its own weight. She used two-by-fours to build a sort of skeleton and then wrapped it with green branches. She stuffed it with cotton, dry leaves, and most of the wardrobe I had left behind.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“It is the best option.”
I took a deep breath. “Fine. What do I do?”
He told me.
I rolled my eyes and said, “I can’t believe I’m bloody doing this.” I picked up a box cutter that was lying on the corner of the work bench. Then I walked up to the golem. “Where?”
“The back of the neck, I should think,” Hux said.
I walked around to the back and popped out the blade, setting it against the hardened clay and drawing it across horizontally. It took a few strokes to wear a groove in. It was like cutting dry wall. Once I’d established the first line, I drew a line straight down from each of the corners, and then connected them at the bottom, carving what was nearly a symmetrical square. DeNobb handed me a screwdriver, and I pried up the patch of clay, finding a layer of burlap underneath that. I cut an X into that, though the blade was pretty dull by this point.
I poked the burlap through, finding the leaves and strewn cotton fibers he had mentioned, along with some shredded denim and bits of leather. From what I could see, there were also colored glass beads. “Alright, DeNobb. Give me the shite.”
“The taglock?”
“Whatever you want to call it, just give me the teeth and hair.”
He brought me the H box and I took the contents, shoving each one into the opening. I took a minute and repeated the little incantation Hux had taught me over each piece before depositing it. I had no idea what I was saying, as it was in Latin or French or something. After that was finished, I looked at Huxley. He nodded his approval. “What now?”
“Now, you sew it shut.” Hux said.
“Seriously?”
DeNobb took a needle and thread from Huxley and handed them to me.
“Fine.”
I was never the best seamstress, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t sew. I’d sewn my share of hems and wound sutures, but I hated doing it. I threaded the needle and went to work on the incision. It only took a few minutes.
“Now say what I told you,” Huxley said.
I set the needle down and walked around to the front of the golem. DeNobb had finished drawing the sigils and symbols across the front. When I saw everything drawn together, I realized what the symbols were. “Those are your tattoos,” I said. “Or, were. Ya know, back when you had them.”
“More energy is needed to go into a poppet the bigger it is. I would have preferred bodily fluids also, but such things are not available any longer.”
I took the marker from DeNobb and drew an all-seeing eye on the golem’s forehead and upside-down triangles under where its eyes would have been, if it had eyes instead of just sunken indentions under a thick-lined brow. I even colored a little facial hair in. Hux never had much, just a little soft fuzz on his chin. Then I stepped back and said, “That’s more like it.”
Huxley didn’t say anything, but I could almost feel him smiling at me.
I set the marker down and held the thing’s cheeks in both of my hands and said, looking into the smooth dips where its eyes would be, “You are…” I sighed. “This is stupid.”
“It is part of the ritual,” Huxley said. “Stupid or not, it is how this is done.”
I shook my head and tried it again. “We made you,” I said. “And your name is Solomon Huxley.”
There was no crack of thunder, no flash of light, no sudden gush of wind, and the golem didn’t stand and say, “Happy birthday.”
“Did it work?” DeNobb asked.
I shrugged.
Huxley said, “Only one way to find out.”
I unhooked the amulet from the waist of the doll, and the little poppet collapsed limply against the table. Then I moved behind the golem, wrapped the amulet around its head, and tied it off.
33
Ape
Eventually, the Foo stopped running. I wasn’t sure how fast it had run or how far it had taken us. I’d been blinking in and out of consciousness. When it stopped, it turned a circle and knelt, setting me on the ground and allowing London to climb off.
I stood and brushed myself off. Looking around, I saw the trees all around us and realized we were in the thick of a forest. As I turned around, the foo let out a strange, little mewling noise and took off in a series of bounding leaps, quickly disappearing into the darkness.
London stepped over to me, handing me my cane. “That was fucking wild, brother.”
I nodded, trying to get my bearings, casting a long, slow glance around at our surroundings. While it was dark, I could still make out a break in the trees not too far ahead and what looked like the rumblings of a few hills not too far beyond that. In the distance, the sky beyond was just beginning to spark with color. That meant morning was coming. I took a deep breath. It seemed like this night would never end.
We moved toward the open area, passing among a thick patch of tall, white birch trees. I stopped just before the clearing, taking note that the final tree was different. The dark bark and thicker limbs were a stark contrast to the birches we had just passed. I rubbed my hand along the rough bark.
“What is it?” London asked.
I motioned to the trees all around us. “Notice anything strange?”
“They’re trees.”
I pointed to a few different species I could see along the path we’d just come. “Birch, yew, hawthorn.” I patted the darker perimeter tree that I was still leaning against. “Gopher.” In fact, as far as I could see, the edge of the forest in both directions was comprised of nothing but gopher trees. They ringed in the open area like a perimeter fence.
London appeared at my side, taking note of the tree line, also. “Perfectly fucking spaced,” he said. “Like they were hand planted here on purpose. Why?”
“To keep wildlife out.”
“Maybe they keep something else in?” London said.
I walked beyond the trees and into the open air. The clearing was, as far as I could tell, a perfect circle, roughly the size of a football field. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noticed that the hills I’d seen before were actually part of a small chain that developed gently to either side of me and curled around like horns to form a crescent-shaped range. In the center of the crescent, which was roughly one hundred yards directly across from where we stood, the hills grew drastically in elevation, almost boiling up into a craggy outcropping. It wasn’t nearly tall enough to be considered a mountain, but the earth rose to a peak a few hundred feet up, with a giant, willowy tree perched at the highest point. The area felt very contrived, like the courtyard before a large office building.
In the span between the crag and where we stood, was a glossy, reflective surface. It looked like ice or marble, at first, but as I continued to look, I noticed a slight wave ripple across its surface, and realized that it was a large pond.
“Where did the lion go?” London asked. “And where the fuck did it take us?”
Slowly, I realized where we were. “This is the grotto. I… haven’t been here in years. It was once part of the property, but it was sold off.”
London followed me. “Why do you say that like you just saw a fucking ghost?”
“Because I haven’t thought of this place in a long time. Nadia brought it up just the other day, and now here we are. This…can’t be a coincidence.”
“So what does it mean?”
“It means that we’re supposed to be here.”
“That’s deep, brother. But for what?” I didn’t say anything. “Think those clown dicks will come for us?”
“I hope so.”
I turned the cane over in my hand, looking down at the Japanese symbols carved into its length and pulled the blade out just enough to see the metal blade smile at me. Truth was, I had a feeling that not only would they come for us, they were already on their way.
I looked at London and his bag of guns. “How are you holding up?”
“Been better. Been worse, too.”
“How’s the leg?”
He stretched it out, kicked it a little. Pain was evident in his eyes. “It’ll hold up.”
“You have something in your bag that’s accurate from a distance?”
“Does the Pope shit in a golden toilet?”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but thought he probably meant yes. I nodded. “Find a spot to hide and cover me.”
He just looked at me for a second before he said, “What the fuck are you planning? You can’t take them all on, brother. That’s fucking crazy. They pushed back at least one of the Foo.”
“London,” I said. He just looked at me. “Trust me. I’m tired of running. We’re going to end this. Back my play.”
“Fucking A.”
He took the flamethrower from my feet and stuck it in his bag. Then he pulled out something small and handed it to me. I took it, realizing it was a pair of sunglasses. “Thanks,” I said.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder and moved to say something, but stopped, nodding instead, then he slung his bag over his shoulder and started limping off toward the low hills on the right. I stood there for a minute, watching him go. I felt a sense of luck and pride well up inside of me. Maybe I hadn’t wanted him to come in the beginning, but I was thankfu
l to have him at my side now.
I pulled the handgun from my belt just to reassure myself I still had it. It hadn’t fallen out. The magazines were still in my pocket. I felt the weight of the gun in my hand, the cold steel between my fingers. I slid it back into my belt, not thinking I would need it. Hoping I wouldn’t, anyway.
I looked back at London, saw him cresting the low hill he’d been aiming for, a tall gopher on either side of him. I spun around in place, taking stock again of the scattered trees that were lined around the perimeter. They were all Gopher trees. It had to have been why the Foo didn’t stick around. It was an animal, and gopher wood had a sedative property against it.
I walked toward the nearest edge of the lake and stopped. Kneeling, I felt suddenly very thirsty and took a long drink of the water. It was strangely cold for as hot as the weather had been, but it was good. After another drink, I leaned heavily onto my cane to stand, then turned to face the trees in the direction we’d come and committed myself to wait. I didn’t think it would take long.
It didn’t. Maybe five minutes later, I heard the purr of a quiet engine, and then headlights came into view, small at first, but getting closer, bounding around between the trees like the eyes of some great forest guardian.
I thought of Omri’s bow and knelt down. I didn’t want to give my position away too soon. My plan only worked if I had a chance to talk.
Another minute, and the Rhino crept beyond the tree line. I stood and whistled. The Rhino came to a stop at the edge of the clearing, the lights shining directly at me. I heard laughter. Then a whistle answered me, but I realized, almost too late, that the whistle was from an arrow that had been fired. The blur of motion registered in the headlights just in time. I wasn’t sure how I noticed it, or how I moved as quickly as I did in response, but my cane came up, striking the arrow midair and deflecting it into the ground at my side.
“Omri!” I yelled. “Face me!”
I was answered with laughter. Another arrow whistled toward me, but I was expecting it and side-stepped with little effort.
The Rhino was just over forty feet away. I was mostly in shadow at the perimeter of the Rhino’s beam lights. To them, I was a silhouette, at best. I couldn’t even see them.