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

by Justin Bloch

  (Bertha on a checked blanket at her wedding, sipping wine.)

  (a small black box with a red sigil on it, and two hands, opening it for her.)

  (one of the Great Pyramids, still under construction.)

  Nova righted him and let go, and the rush of images vanished. He gaped at her. She gave him a quizzical look, her head cocked to one side.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a moment more, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered. “Just didn’t expect to fall, I guess.” He paused, shaken. “Thanks, you know, for helping me.”

  She gave him a hesitant smile. “You’re welcome. We can’t have you injuring yourself.” She flicked her eyes from side to side, then put a hand beside her mouth and stage whispered, “You’re kind of a big deal.”

  He forced a laugh and realized that she had no idea what had happened. “Are you going to sleep out here?” he asked, desperate for a change of subject. The feeling was coming painfully back into his foot.

  “Yes. This’ll be fine for me. Robber’ll keep me company.”

  He nodded. “Goodnight, Nova. And sweet dreams.”

  “The same to you, Nathaniel.” She sat back down, then slid the feline forward to the edge of the cushion so that she could lay behind him. She pulled a blanket off the back of couch and covered herself with it.

  Nathaniel hobbled into his room and shut the door, leaned against it. He was breathing hard. He believed he knew what had happened when he’d touched Nova and he didn’t know how he felt about it. Some connection had been forged by their brief contact, like peering in a window to her thoughts and memories. It was interesting, but he didn’t like the feeling of prying into her mind like a peeping tom. Most of what he had seen was just fragments that hadn’t made any sense to him, and he didn’t think he’d seen anything too personal, so that was something at least.

  But he had felt something interesting.

  Nova had always been Sol’s confidant, his sounding board, but when Bertha came along, that ended. As far as Nova was concerned, Bertha had stolen her brother away from her, and because of the seraph’s jealousy, she had never liked nor trusted the Gatekeeper.

  On the third day after his dream of fives, Nathaniel Valentine was awoken by sun pouring through his window. He had forgotten to lower the shade before he’d gone to bed and now he felt like he was drowning in the flood of light.

  He rolled out of bed and dropped the shade, then padded across the floor to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went. He showered and pulled on some clothes, a red t-shirt, a pair of jeans, a black zip-up sweater.

  He went into the living room, where Sol and Nova were eating croissants and talking quietly. He didn’t have any idea where the pastries might have come from, but he grabbed one and chewed it sleepily. He had skipped dinner last night, enthralled by the karma policeman’s tale, and he was ravenous.

  “Good morning,” the siblings said in unison, then turned to each other and smiled the easy, practiced smile of family.

  “Morning,” Nathaniel replied around a bite of croissant. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Well enough,” Sol said. “We’ll be leaving after breakfast.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Neither replied for an instant and Nathaniel caught the pair exchange a quick look, but Nova spoke up before he had a chance to question them about it. “Thanks to the Shine and Son, we know how the Allamagoosalum is choosing its victims. Son said it was the same as before. The Shine told us that it is killing in circles. Apart the clues don’t make much sense, but together they let us know who the next target is. Or at least how to find out who it is.”

  “The Allamagoosalum is killing the reincarnated souls of the people who Raymond murdered,” Sol explained. His speech quickened with every word he said, his voice rising. “He has killed five people so far. The next will be Elizabeth Cummings, the girl with Stella. I want this thing stopped before it goes any further.” He paused, then slammed a fist down onto the end table. “There is no other choice.”

  Nova jerked and coughed a little around her bite of croissant. Nathaniel’s bewilderment lasted only a moment before he realized why Sol was so adamant. After the sixth death would come the seventh, the final person Raymond had managed to kill before the karma policeman had shown up: Stella.

  But the story had changed things, pieces that had seemed as if they belonged to entirely different puzzles suddenly fit together, and Nathaniel’s mind made a connection. “But you visited Stella in Limbo,” he protested. “When we talked to Bertha, you went into Limbo to visit her. You took her flowers. How can the Allamagoosalum kill her if she hasn’t even been reborn yet?”

  The karma policeman said nothing, still and silent as an abandoned building. It was Nova who finally answered. “She has been reborn.”

  Nathaniel looked at Sol. His face was drawn, his fists clenched.

  “When I went into Limbo, she was already gone. I spoke to the Divinors, it had just recently happened. I will not allow her to die a second time. We will finish this long before that happens.”

  “How do we find the Allamagoosalum, then?” Nathaniel asked.

  “There is someone,” Nova said slowly, shooting sideways glances at her brother. “She may not have returned with the others, but if she did, then we know where to find her. She will know the answers to the questions we need to ask.”

  Nathaniel narrowed his eyes and looked at the pair of angels suspiciously. “Who are you talking about? Who are we going to see?”

  They stayed silent for several moments, and Nathaniel had begun to believe that this would remain just one more mystery when Sol spoke up.

  “She is called Magdalene,” he said. “The last Horseman of the Apocalypse.”

  “Death,” Nova finished.

  A length of Nova’s yarn had been laid in a circle on the living room floor with the trio at the center. Robber Baron watched with vague interest from the window sill. Nova had filled his water and food bowls.

  It took only a single pulse to dislodge them from the world. They entered the shelter space and immediately sped toward the nebula, each seraphim with a hand around Nathaniel’s wrist. They were more powerful together, and the mist swirled around them, curled into looping vines and trailed behind them in long, iridescent braids. It was the first time Nathaniel had seen Nova burning, and he felt his cheeks grow warm, and he turned his gaze away reluctantly; in their true forms, the angels were naked, and as curious as he was, he felt like it was cheating.

  And then the nebula fell behind them and Nathaniel was left alone in the void. When he came fully into the world, Nova and Sol stood beside him, straightening their dark jackets.

  They were in an alley. The sun beat down upon an adobe wall on his left, and Nathaniel leaned against it and stripped off his sweater. It was hot, arid. The sky was pale, the color of pages from an old book.

  The karma policeman walked to the end of the alley and looked both ways. When he turned back to them, he was smiling. “A spot of luck,” he said.

  Nova returned his grin. “You’re kidding, we’re in Nod?” The karma policewoman clapped her hands together with delight.

  “Easier with the two of us.”

  From against the wall, Nathaniel asked, “Nod?”

  “When Cain rose up and killed his brother Abel, the Source marked him and he was sent to the Land of Nod,” Sol explained. “This is the city Nod. We’re not very far from where we need to be. A day’s travel at most.” He looked once more beyond the alley, shading his eyes with one hand. Nathaniel roused himself from the wall and went to stand beside the karma policeman. Nova joined them a moment later, putting a hand on her brother’s back. Together, they took in the city.

  On first impression, the town seemed peaceful, quiet. But Nod was more than just hushed, was beyond silence. It was a vacuum of sound. The buildings, like the one he had leaned against, were all constructed of tan adobe, and the street t
heir alley emptied on was packed, yellow dirt. It reminded Nathaniel of mining towns out west, coughing out the last of their lives in the middle of wastelands after the gold had run out. Some of the buildings had porches, but the wood had the look of desiccated, ancient age, as if a single touch might crumble it to powder. In front of one building was a hitching post with a slim piece of rawhide dangling from it. Nothing stirred, not even breeze enough to kick up some of the dry dust of the road. The town looked utterly deserted.

  But to Nathaniel, it did not feel deserted.

  He could sense eyes watching them from windows, could almost see them, in fact. He scanned the buildings across the street for signs of life, but nothing moved, and every window was nothing more than a square of deep, complete blackness. His mind inserted vague, colored forms and humped shapes. He thought at first that it was his imagination at work, then realized that there was something in the windows. There were things observing them, and though he couldn’t see them with his eyes, he could see them with his mind.

  “We’re being watched,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” confirmed the karma policeman. “By shades. They won’t bother us, they’re less than ghosts.”

  “What are they?”

  “The remains of the living. Something happened here that trapped them.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head, moved out into the street.

  Nathaniel rubbed absently at the ‘p’ on his hand. He didn’t like this place. And he didn’t understand what was happening to him, why he could see the things if he couldn’t see them. Sol had spoken of the Cipher having powers, but he didn’t understand how being able to feel the presence of Inhabitants would do him much good when he went up against the Allamagoosalum. What he did understand was that he wanted to be gone from this town, and soon. They were not welcome here.

  The karma policeman walked to the center of the street, looked both ways. Inside the buildings, Nathaniel felt the shades draw back from the windows. Nova pointed and led them down the road toward a pair of large, wooden gates. From either side of the gate a high wall ran, smooth and solid, also adobe. Sol stayed behind Nathaniel, watching, one hand in his pocket.

  Their footsteps scratched along the road. The sun was sweltering, oppressive. Nathaniel couldn’t believe the seraphim could stand to wear their long jackets, but found it even harder to imagine the siblings without them.

  Just before they reached the gates, the buildings pulled away to form a sort of town square, and they tarried for a moment to take a look. The buildings here were larger, dusty adobe baked almost white by the sun. Rough ladders made of chalky wood lay propped between the levels. Still there was no noise, no breeze. At the far end of the square there was a church made of white-washed boards, just beginning to peel and reveal dry, flaking gray beneath. On top of the steeple a wrought iron weathervane sat motionless, pointed west. Within, the sun heliographed on the bright silver of a bell. One door hung drunkenly open, a hinge broken away. The other lay in the dirt like a child’s toy dropped and forgotten during a hasty departure. It was this more than anything else that frightened Nathaniel. Whatever had happened here had reduced the sanctity of the church, the only building that seemed as if it had been cared for, to nothing.

  On the other side of the square, directly across from the church, was a gallows. It too was made of wood, but it looked nothing like the dust dry porches. The wood here remained strong and the highest beam, the one to which two ropes were tied, looked as if it would stand for thousands of years before splintering. Both trapdoors had been dropped. Beneath the gallows stood a mound of bones, heaped upon each other until they reached nearly to the edge of the fallen doors. A fat raven, the only living thing they had seen thus far, sat upon the tip of the golgotha. It did not cry or caw, but simply watched them from its place, a king of bones. They moved on.

  When they reached the gates, Nova unlatched them and pushed, one hand on either door. They rasped open, rust grinding against rust on the hinges, brittle red flakes floating down to the sand. Beyond the gates stretched a desert, rocky, bright and harsh. Shimmering heat mirages wavered at the edge of Nathaniel’s vision.

  The karma policeman raised one hand, pointed. “There,” he said. “That is where we are going.”

  Nathaniel squinted and could just make out a tiny dark smudge near the horizon. The distance seemed incredible; he didn’t know how he would make it all the way. He started to protest and looked at the brother and sister on either side of him. He shut his mouth. They wore identical expressions of determination. Nothing would be able to convince them that he was not an angel, that he was merely a man. He saw in their faces that they would carry him, if need be. That they would drag him, if it came to that.

  “Come on,” Nova said. “We should get moving if we want to make any ground by nightfall. Put your sweater on, Nathaniel.”

  Nathaniel started to protest that it was too hot, but Sol gave him a stern look. “You’ll see,” he said, then reached into one pocket and withdrew two large bandannas. He halved one into a triangle and tied it around the Cipher’s face trail hand style, then did the same with his own.

  Nova had also covered her face with a bandanna. She was holding three pairs of slim, dark sunglasses, and she divvied them out. When Nathaniel had put his on, she turned and stepped out into the desert.

  The tail of her jacket immediately jerked away from her, caught in a strong wind. Sol followed his sister, his own coat billowing, and Nathaniel, not wanting to be left behind, left the bounds of the city. The wind hit him instantly, grains of windblown sand striking his skin like tiny needles. He’d been in the wind only a few seconds and was sick of it already.

  They began walking. The desert was hard pack, pale earth that reflected the sun back up at the travelers, and despite the wind, the heat was overwhelming. After the first half hour of watching the distant spot and not seeing any improvement in their proximity, Nathaniel turned his gaze to his feet and trained it there. Hours passed, although it made little difference to the desert and to the wind. The trio shared torn bits of sand-sprinkled manna the color of walnuts to keep them going and quench their thirst. They did not speak.

  The sun arced above them through the cloudless sky and dipped toward the horizon directly before them. Nathaniel reached behind him to tighten the knot holding the bandanna to his face, and when he did, gained at least a bit of hope. The smudge they were heading toward had grown to a blob now, and Nathaniel thought he could make out peaks and swells. Trees, maybe? He wasn’t sure, but the spot was closer at least. He returned his gaze to his feet.

  The distance slipped away beneath their steps.

  They continued walking even after the sun had disappeared in a brilliant blast of red, turning the sky a riotous blend of tangerine and rose madder. Sol and Nova had drawn away to one side so they could speak. Nathaniel trudged on. The air turned cold, bitter, and the desert floor began to give up some of the sun-warmth it had gained during the day. The wind died down some, coming in scattered breaths instead of a constant barrage, but it was frigid now and cut the skin like broken glass. Nathaniel was able to remove his sunglasses, though he kept the bandanna around his nose and mouth. He didn’t want to breathe in any more of the sand than he had to. Plus, it made him feel cool and dangerous, like he was going to rob a stagecoach.

  The seraphim finished their palaver and made their way back to him. The blob had grown to a dark blur now, barely visible in the failing light. Stars began to blink into existence in the sky above, twinkling like tiny movie projectors set high in the cosmos. Nathaniel marveled at how clear the air was here, how many stars there were to see. He looked for familiar constellations and could find none in the jubilation of stars overhead.

  “There’s a place up ahead where we’ll stop for the night,” Sol said. “It’ll be warm and out of the wind.”

  Nathaniel looked forward and could see nothing but flat, unmarked desert, but if the karma policeman said it was there, it a
lmost certainly was. He turned his attention back to his feet, which he’d developed quite an affection for over the long hours of staring at them.

  They plodded on for another hour still before they came upon the shelter, a stairway cut into the ground and descending into shadow. Scrawled on the top step in slanted, clumsy letters was the word ‘haven.’

  Nathaniel eyed the dark opening mistrustfully, but neither of the karma police seemed perturbed. When they started down the stairs, he followed them. Where the tiny bit of starlight that had illuminated the first stairs began to fail, a large, crude candle was set in a shelf carved into the wall. Nova took it from its place and held one finger over it. Her finger wavered, as if Nathaniel were looking at it through a fish bowl, then burst into flame, and she touched it to the wick. The candle gave off a surprising amount of light and Nathaniel saw that there were only another dozen steps to the bottom of the stairwell.

  All three of them hurried down to where the stairs ended, uncovering their faces as they went. They were in a small room, warm, just as Sol had said it would be. There were five beds, two along one wall, three along another, a table and chairs. In the center of one wall, a spring of water fell into a stone basin, gurgling pleasantly. On the basin’s edge were a few beaten copper cups.

  Nathaniel plopped down on the nearest bed, allowing himself to fall backward. His feet throbbed in his shoes, and he kicked them off without sitting up. Nova sat beside him on the bed, her thigh pressed against his. He watched her profile in the flickering candlelight as Sol filled three of the cups with water and handed them out. Nathaniel drained his and the karma policeman refilled it for him. This one he sipped from, already able to feel his body renewing itself. The water was cool and fresh and wonderful in his throat, with a slight mineral taste.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “An oasis,” answered Nova. She put one hand on her knee, her ring and little fingers resting against Nathaniel’s leg, and left it there. “Built here to aid travelers venturing across the desert from Nod. The sand sprites watch over it.”