The Stolen Karma Of Nathaniel Valentine (The Books Of Balance Book 1)

by Justin Bloch

  This is the path to the Library, Robber answered. Nathaniel was no more surprised that his cat could talk than if his mother had claimed she had given birth to him.

  What is the Library? Why are we going there?

  Five, replied his cat.

  I don’t understand.

  No, spoke Robber slowly. But all things balance. And remember that it is just a Story. Stories only have the power you give them.

  And the cat was gone. The shelves dropped down into the floor as if falling into great slots. The dim light vanished, and Nathaniel was nowhere once more.

  He awoke with a start, the covers tangled around his sweaty body. Weak gray light filtered in through the blinds and he sat up, hugged his knees to his chest. The clock on the nightstand said it was 4:34 p.m. He rolled out of the bed, padded across the rough carpet to the bathroom, splashed some cold water on his face. He peered at himself in the mirror, at the dark circles beneath his eyes, and thought about his dream, still clear in his head.

  He showered, shampooing carefully to avoid the knot on the back of his head. After he’d toweled off and redressed, he went into the main room. Sol was there, still on the couch, the television muted. When he saw Nathaniel, he turned it off and took a long look at him.

  “Feeling better?” the karma policeman asked.

  “Some, yeah. Is there any food?” replied Nathaniel, rubbing his eyes.

  “Manna.” Sol dug into one pocket and pulled out a piece, tossed it to Nathaniel. The inside was the color of blueberries, and tasted like them as well.

  “Where are we going next?” he asked between mouthfuls. “To see the Divinors?”

  Sol was silent, staring at the blank television screen. Outside, a light rain had started to fall, and water beaded on the glass. “No, not yet. I need to think more first. I thought we’d go back to Bel Air. You can get clean clothes and see your cat.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Besides, there is business we can attend to while there.” The tall policeman stood, smoothing out the wrinkles of his dark jacket. “Are you ready to leave now or do you wish to rest longer?”

  “No, just give me a minute,” he responded, rushing back into the bedroom. He reemerged a moment later, zipping up his hoodie. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

  The cop stayed motionless. “Come back inside and close the door,” he whispered. He waited until Nathaniel had complied, then went on. “We will not be traveling by normal means today, we haven’t the time. We are going to use the Way of Dust.”

  Nathaniel sighed. He had a feeling that this was the beginning of more questions, more confusion, and more explanations that made only a backwards, insane kind of sense. “What’s that?”

  “There is a network of back roads on this world, hidden paths that can be used to reach destinations more quickly. Like the Spirals on the world beside this one, but far more plentiful. Anyone may walk them, but you must know where to find them.”

  “And you know where to find one, I take it.”

  “Yes. But this particular one isn’t well hidden, so we must take care not to be seen. That’s why I’m telling you now, before we get there.”

  “All right,” agreed Nathaniel. His hand was on the doorknob, his fingers tapping the stainless steel. “So how do we get there?”

  “It’s not far,” replied Sol, motioning toward the door. Nathaniel opened it, held it for the karma policeman, then followed behind him and shut it. They walked down to and through the stairwell and exited the building, a cold wind buffeting them as soon as they set foot on the parking lot. Nathaniel put his hood up and jammed his hands deep into his pockets. The karma policeman’s long jacket blew out behind him, brushing against the wall of the Fives. They remained where they were for a moment watching the gray clouds zip past, raindrops spattering against their faces, then set out back down to the road. Sol led the way across the pedestrian bridge, then strode up the hill toward a set of four tall apartment complexes; a sign near the gate proclaimed them to be Presidential City Apartments. Nathaniel and the cop moved in silence across the deserted grounds to a circle of benches in a small copse of trees between two of the buildings.

  The karma policeman looked around warily, his eyes moving up and down the rows of windows in the buildings. As he scanned, he gestured past them and said, “That tree is the entrance.”

  “What tree?” asked Nathaniel.

  Sol sighed, pointed again. “There,” he said. “Look closely.”

  Nathaniel followed the policeman’s finger, brow knitted. There was nothing there, though, just the space between the benches…but then he saw it, wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before. A tree, about five feet high, centered between the benches, just beginning to get its new spring leaves. The branches curved up and outward from the bottom then curved back in at the top to form a crude sphere shape with the center mostly free of any twigs or sticks.

  “When I tell you to, I want you to walk into the tree. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Sol paused, continuing to check for observers, and Nathaniel found an opening he thought he could slip into just as the karma policeman said, “Go.” He walked quickly forward and slipped between two thick branches. He felt a sharp branch scrape the back of his neck, and then he was completely inside.

  Which wasn’t true, because he wasn’t in the tree anymore.

  He stood on a straight path of dry, yellow dirt, reminding him of every dusty Main Street he’d ever seen in an old western. The path was about ten feet wide, and where it dissolved away near the edges, it was replaced by a uniform, omnipresent pale cobalt color. The ground and sky were all that same unbroken hue, with no horizon line, with no lines at all. It was as if the path stretched on in front of a Hollywood blue screen. It was unnerving, and Nathaniel felt as if his eyes were rebelling against him, insisting that there must be something there, there couldn’t just be nothing. The stubborn part of his mind told him to walk to the edge of the path and step into the blue, to prove that there was substance past the bounds of the yellow dust, but he forced himself to remain where he was.

  Sol emerged behind him an instant later. He glanced to the right and left. “Come on,” he said, walking to the right, although Nathaniel couldn’t see how he knew which direction to go. There didn’t seem to be any defining marks whatsoever on the path.

  Nathaniel fell into step beside him. Soft waves of vertigo washed over him, and finally he resorted to staring at the ground as he walked, blocking out the blue from his vision. “What is this place?” He kicked a pebble. “I don’t like it.”

  “It is the Way of Dust. It runs through the nil expanses of your world, the planes of reality just below the surface. Most Residents don’t care very much for it because of the blankness. Your minds are not built to fathom it.”

  “Are they natural occurrences? The roads I mean,” Nathaniel asked. He kept his eyes locked on the path, not daring to look up.

  “No. The Source created them. These paths have been here almost as long as this world has existed.”

  “Do people ever end up here accidentally?”

  Sol nodded. “Only rarely. The entrances are well disguised. Residents don’t see them.”

  They walked in silence for awhile, their shoes scratching over the dry dirt of the road. It was unchanging, static, the color of corn meal. They had walked for about twenty minutes when Sol said, “Look.”

  They were nearing a crossroads, and a signpost was driven into the dirt at the center of the intersection. As they came closer, Nathaniel could see that there was an arrow on the sign for each of the three directions one could travel, straight, left, and right. According to the sign, the path leading to the left went ‘Somewhere,’ the path leading straight went ‘Anywhere,’ and the path leading to the right went ‘Nowhere.’

  “Which way do we go?” asked Nathaniel as they reached the nexus.

  “To the left, obviously.”

  They set o
ff, scuffing along in the dust. There were no hills, no gentle rises, no downgrades, no curves, no variations of any kind. Sol hummed softly to himself, apparently unaware he was doing it.

  “Sol, what’s the Library?” he asked after awhile.

  “It’s a term for the world beside this one. When the Source created the worlds, it gave names to all save that one. But you can’t have a place without a name, and so over time, it became known as the Library.” He paused. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I don’t know,” Nathaniel replied, shrugging. “I guess I just overheard it somewhere.”

  A few minutes later, the karma policeman spoke again. “Travelers,” he said, nodding his head down the road.

  Nathaniel looked up, momentarily caught off guard by the infinite blueness. He swayed, rebalanced, and hoped Sol hadn’t noticed. He squinted down the path and saw what the cop was talking about. There, much further ahead, were two tiny blurs on the otherwise unchanging landscape. He couldn’t tell whether they were moving toward or away yet.

  “Friendly, do you think?” he asked, watching the black dots grow larger. Coming toward them then, and quick.

  The karma policeman seemed to consider for a moment. “It doesn’t matter. The angels are a higher power.” His hand stole into an inside pocket of his jacket and came out holding the straight razor, still closed.

  The blurs began to resolve themselves into definite shapes within a few minutes, and soon after that, Nathaniel could tell that it was a man and a woman, their hands clasped together. The man was bulky and muscular, the woman slim and of average height. Sol crossed his arms over his chest, the razor hidden from view. Nathaniel fell a step behind the karma policeman like a shy child hiding behind his mother’s skirt.

  “Hail, seraph!” the man called, raising one hand in greeting.

  “Hail, Demon,” Sol replied. The man grinned and lowered his hand.

  As they drew nearer, Nathaniel could see that the woman was taller than he’d realized, almost the same height as he was. She had long, wavy, light brown hair and wore a simple dress of white cotton. Her hair was tied back with what looked like a strip of rawhide, pulled away from the angular bones of her face, the sharp hook of her nose. The man wore only a pair of scuffed black pants, faded gray at the knees and frayed around the cuffs. He was blond and good looking, with a square jaw line and dark eyes the color of garnets. He too was taller than Nathaniel had estimated, towering over his companion and standing at least five inches higher than the karma policeman. His arms and chest bulged with muscles, and thick cords stood out on his neck. A set of blood red horns curved up and back over the top of his head, jutting from either side of his forehead.

  “What brings you here?” asked the Demon, booming with good cheer. He had a huge smile on his face and let go of the woman’s hand so that he could put his arm around her. Next to his hulking form, she seemed only a slip of a girl, a china doll.

  “We travel,” Sol answered vaguely. “And yourself, Asmodeus?”

  “We’re getting married in Las Vegas, or, as I like to call it, ‘Lost Wages,’” he said with the practiced delivery of a well-loved and oft-repeated joke. “This is my bride, the lady Sara.”

  Sol smiled politely and nodded toward the woman. “A pleasure. This is my charge, Nathaniel.”

  The Demon turned to look at Nathaniel, noticing him for the first time. His eyes narrowed and he tightened his arm around the woman. “Pleased to meet you,” he murmured.

  “How many times have you two married now?” Sol asked.

  “This will be…” Asmodeus looked up into the blue nothingness, his eyes flicking back and forth as he worked out the numbers in his head. “This will be our five thousand, six hundred, and sixty-fifth time exchanging vows.”

  Nathaniel goggled at the number, but the karma policeman seemed unsurprised. “A palindrome,” he remarked. “A good omen.”

  “Stop it!” bellowed the Demon suddenly, whirling on Nathaniel and shoving Sara protectively behind him with one massive hand.

  Nathaniel backed off a step, confused. “I don’t know—” he began.

  “Stop staring at her,” Asmodeus spit, moving closer. Veins rippled in his forearms, and Nathaniel felt his throat close up. “She is mine.” He growled the last word, baring his teeth.

  “I…I’m sorry. I wasn’t even—”

  “Do not lie to me,” he thundered, pointing one thick finger at Nathaniel’s chest.

  “A misunderstanding, and I’m sure it won’t happen again,” interjected the cop, stepping between the two of them. “Your bride is beautiful, and he let it get the best of him. How could it not, after all?”

  Nathaniel peeked around the two men to the woman behind. Although he didn’t think she was bad looking, she was no treasure either. She saw him looking and grinned at him, and he immediately pulled back out of her sight.

  “It won’t happen again,” assured the karma policeman.

  “It had better not,” the Demon replied, running a hand over one of his horns as if smoothing his hair. His nostrils flared like those of a bull.

  “How long have you been on the Way of Dust?” asked Sol diplomatically.

  “An hour or so,” replied the Demon, keeping an eye on Nathaniel, who kept both of his trained on the ground between his feet.

  “Will you stay long in Vegas?”

  “A week maybe, or two. It depends on what my darling wants,” he cooed, clucking her under the chin. She blushed and put a hand on one of his biceps.

  “That’s very sweet of you.” Nathaniel looked at the karma policeman, puzzled. He wasn’t acting like his normal, dour self. He seemed genuinely pleased for the couple.

  “I thought,” Sara said then, speaking for the first time, “that my betrothed warned you not to ogle me.”

  Nathaniel looked up at her, his mouth dropping open. She still wore the same mischievous smile, and she blew a kiss to him as Asmodeus covered the short distance between them in two large steps and heaved Nathaniel into the air.

  “I told you to stop staring at her, Resident!” the Demon screamed. Spittle flew from his lips in tiny, hot droplets. “She is mine and mine alone, I slew her seven suitors, and no other shall have her but I!” He raised his free hand to Nathaniel’s throat and began to squeeze. Nathaniel felt his windpipe clamp shut and he beat feebly at the giant hand. Bursts of color exploded before his eyes.

  A glint of metal and Nathaniel was falling. The Demon roared, his jaw dropping open an obscene amount, almost to his collarbones, and exposing several rows of jagged teeth, his sliced wrist clutched to his chest. He spun on the karma policeman, who held the straight razor out. “I have no wish to kill you, Asmodeus, not on your wedding day, but I will,” warned Sol. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pointed the gleaming blade at the girl and added, “And I will have no qualms about finishing her off afterwards.”

  “Are you going to let them treat me like this, my coracle?” Sara asked. “Like I’m some strumpet? Some common harlot?”

  “I will not let either of you sully my bride’s honor,” the Demon seethed, breathing hard. A drop of blood fell from his wrist and struck the pale yellow dust of the path. Nathaniel watched as it was sucked greedily into the ground, leaving only a faded stain the color of pale roses.

  “Neither of us seeks to,” the cop said. “We will continue on our way, you may continue on yours. We want no more bloodshed today.”

  Asmodeus appeared to think it over, shooting glares at Nathaniel. After a moment, his body relaxed and he ran his uninjured hand over the length of one of his horns. “That is agreeable,” he said.

  “Husband! You must avenge my—”

  “Hush, my dove,” he whispered, smiling back at her. He turned once more to the karma policeman. “We go our way, you go yours.”

  Sol nodded.

  “Fare thee well, policeman.” He raised a hand to them and walked past, pulling the woman along behind him.

  When they had moved out of earshot, N
athaniel turned to look at the karma policeman, confused, still shaken, his breath whistling harshly through his bruised windpipe. “Why didn’t you kill him?” he asked. It hurt to speak, but he couldn’t help it. “You almost threw Sylvia into the river because she wouldn’t move out of your way, but you let a Demon go who tries to strangle me?”

  Sol stood quiet, watching the dwindling forms of Asmodeus and his lady. “He did what he did out of love for her.” He paused, then added, “For that, I can forgive.”

  The karma policeman stowed the razor back in his jacket and began to walk again. After a moment Nathaniel followed, his mind turning.

  They traveled another fifteen minutes before coming to a second crossroads. Instead of a signpost driven into the center of the intersection, however, a tree like the one they had used to enter the nil expanse grew. It was larger than the one they had seen in Philadelphia, but it maintained the same roughly spherical shape.

  “Do you know MacPhail Road?” asked the karma policeman.

  “Yeah, sure. I live right off of it,” Nathaniel said, running his fingers through the young leaves on the tree.

  “This leads to the woods that border the road. We should be very close to your apartment. We can stay there tonight. Tomorrow, we have some things that need to be taken care of.”

  “All right,” he answered. He stuck his arm into the empty center of the tree and waved it around. Disappointingly, it remained firmly attached to his shoulder without disappearing. He wondered how the tree worked, how it transported a person across the planes. He stepped between the branches and watched as the cobalt infinity bled to black. The sound of crickets swelled up around him and the wind whistled through the trees above. He was in a forest, the air cool enough to bite at bare skin. In front of him, two circles of white sped by, the headlights of a passing car.

  He took a step forward, meaning to walk up to the road and see what part of MacPhail he had come out on, but was jerked backward. He turned and saw that his hoodie was caught fast on a sharp branch of the tree. He reached behind him to untangle it when he heard footsteps further back in the woods.