by Sienna Skyy
25
LOUISIANA
BRUCE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR and, after several moments, Jamie appeared to let him in. He scanned the flowered and papered guesthouse room and saw no sign of the others.
“Where’re Emily and Bedelia?”
Jamie cocked her head at the window, her eyes not quite their usual silver-dollar brights. “Em was antsy so Bedelia took her out for a stroll. She said they’d be around Jackson Square if we wanted to join up. I was just . . .” She flapped her arm at the room. “I really need to try to contact . . . my . . . you know.”
Her voice was gravelly and a line creased the skin from brow to ear.
Bruce frowned. “Have you been sleeping?”
“I, what? No! Well . . .” Jamie’s head dipped two inches. “Okay. I guess I must have dozed off.”
“I thought you were going to contact your guide, Jamie.” He tried to wrestle the tension from his voice, but he was getting frantic. Every hour that passed felt one step closer to losing Gloria.
“I’m sorry, Bruce. I tried. For a while. It wasn’t any different from the other times.”
Her hand went to the back of her head, and she kneaded her long neck with frustration. Her eyes glistened. She turned and walked away from him, slumping into the chair at the little desk at the far corner.
“Sometimes it feels so impossible,” she mumbled. “I feel like I’m trying to catch a single drop of steam with a fishing net.”
The glistening in her eyes bubbled and Bruce could see them filling at the corners, even from across the room. He sighed, stepping toward her, his frustration giving way to gentleness for his lifelong friend.
“It’s all right, Tink. Everyone needs to catch a snooze every now and then.”
The tears spilled over at that, leaving streaks down her face. She looked like she was about to say something, but she pressed her lips together and only snuffled.
Bruce knew that way about her. She was thinking they weren’t going to make it. She wouldn’t let herself utter those words, but that’s what she was thinking.
He laid his hand on the back of her neck and kneaded the balled masses in her muscles. Her bony frame swayed under the pressure of his hand and she closed her eyes.
“You’ve been working hard to try to figure this thing out, Tink, and I appreciate it. It felt like we were on the right track for a while. But now I don’t know.” Bruce’s eyes drifted to the window, where a geranium bloomed red in potted soil. “New Orleans doesn’t feel right. But I don’t know where else to go.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” Her eyes were still closed as she spoke. “If I could just call up a visitation from my Auxilium friend, she could tell us where to go next. I don’t understand why it’s not working. I can only guess something is blocking us. Half of me wants to just go back to New York.”
“We’re not giving up.”
“I don’t intend to give up,” she said quickly. “But what if we’re supposed to go back to New York?”
Bruce shook his head. “I don’t see how. We’re supposed to find the Four Pillars of Humanity and so far we haven’t even found one.”
Jamie lowered her head again. “I feel like that time when we were in high school and you were working on the school play. It was right after I had that first visitation and I was determined to watch out for you.”
Bruce smiled. “Is that the time you got locked in the closet?”
Jamie sniffed, and though he stood at her back while she sat, he could see her smile form in the reflection in the mirror.
She bent her head to the pressure of his hands. “Yeah. I was going be your guardian angel, full of this sense of purpose. So I’d been hanging out, making sure everything was safe in the prop room. I was all paranoid that there’d be some accident or something.”
He laughed. “All this time, I always wondered what you were doing in there.”
“So now you know. I still don’t understand how that closet door could get locked from the inside. I felt so stupid.”
“How long were you in there?”
“Six hours!”
Bruce shook his head. He tried not to laugh but couldn’t help himself.
“Go ahead. It was funny.” Jamie’s grin broke wide.
She tilted her head back again and her eyes were back to silver dollars in blue. He planted a kiss on her forehead and released her neck, turning toward the bed, where he sat down.
“Thanks,” she said, rubbing her shoulders and moving her head from side to side.
Bruce laid back, feet still on the floor but his back now stretched across the bedspread. He groaned. “Oh, man. I can see why you took a catnap. I’m beat.”
“I just wish I knew more about what to do. I felt useful at first right after Enervata abducted Gloria. But now it’s like I’m going nowhere.”
“Well, you’re not locking yourself in a closet again, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His speech slowed. He rubbed his face.
“You might have been put here to watch over me, Jamie, but you’re my buddy, and I’d love you regardless of whether you’re a guardian angel or a fruit bat. Doesn’t make any difference.”
Jamie returned a smile that seemed both quiet and private. She turned back to the desk and lit a candle and he watched the reflection of its wavering flame in the mirror. It reminded him of that night not so long ago when he’d made love to Gloria in “the clouds.” He closed his eyes.
He thought of Gloria’s eyes, so strong and sure. He thought how frightened she must be. Or perhaps confused by this whole thing. She didn’t have Jamie to explain what was happening. Candace was lost before she even had a chance to help her.
He imagined Gloria standing before Enervata and he imagined himself stepping between them, arms spread to protect her, staring down into the eyes of a thousand-year-old demon. His fingers curled into fists.
There came an urgent pounding on wood.
Bruce drew in his breath and sat upright, rubbing his eyes. Jamie darted to the door. He must have fallen asleep, because the sky was now colored three shades darker and the candle had worn down.
Jamie turned the handle and Forte entered with Shannon in tow.
Forte strode to Bruce. “Something really weird just went down, man. I’m not sure, but I think I just battled for my life with a Stratocaster!”
THE DEAD GOUGE
Enervata entered the Gouge using the energy state of his natural being, as was the custom in meetings such as this.
Presenting oneself in this energy state allowed for a one-way interaction with the environment. In this case, the Dead Gouge was certainly better suited to one-way interactions, as it glowed red with the molten rock of the Earth’s lithosphere.
Enervata found the Gouge a place of comfort. The core, the place where the planet could most easily swallow its hijackers. It wanted to draw all things into its molten center, swallow them, and homogenize their proteins into its mixture. How fine it would be to watch those in Bruce’s party melt away into the shifting tides of a place such as the Dead Gouge. They would feel the cold, dead wind at the surface. And then as they plunged deeper and as the Earth stretched out its invisible tongue of gravity to draw them in, they would begin to feel the heat, and then the heat would increase until it penetrated their simple lifeforms. Cooked them before it ate them.
Yes, this was a place of comfort indeed.
When two powerful Maculs such as Enervata and Kolt come together for a private audience, only the most secluded of parlors would accommodate. This one lay miles below the Earth’s crust, situated at a gap between two divergent tectonic plates. The East African Rift ran along a vast north-and-south trail, and the Dead Gouge burrowed into the Arabian tectonic plate along the eastern side. Were they to rendezvous at the same grid of the Earth’s surface, they would be standing in the middle of the Dead Sea, or under it, as it were; hence the name Dead Gouge.
And though in this state interaction with the environment transpired only as
a one-way endeavor—Enervata’s physical being knew no damage from even the molten lava—he was still able to communicate freely with Kolt in a limited two-way interaction. He could pick up a stone and hurl it into the lake of fire, but should that lake of fire creep toward him he would know only a buzzing of new energy.
Similarly, because they both appeared only in the form of energy, he and Kolt could see each other and converse, but they lacked the ability to touch, or better stated, harm each other.
Were this not the case, they would likely not be meeting.
Enervata had agreed to this rendezvous solely out of curiosity. He had effectively neutralized Kolt’s target, the philanthropist Jonathon Raster. Whereas Enervata’s target, Gloria, remained enticingly within reach.
Enervata had come early, relishing the solitude. He stood at the mouth of the Gouge, looking down into the whispers that swam up from the mantle. No color existed save for red and black.
“I am pleased that you came.”
Kolt appeared at a deeper corner of the Gouge and, like Enervata, the energy likeness presented him in his natural state. No need to cloak oneself in human form. After all, they were, in a perverse aspect, members of the same brotherhood.
Enervata nodded. “No harm in a small social call.”
Kolt slithered toward the mouth where Enervata stood, his claws barely adequate to lift the bulk of his trailing nine-foot frame. If one were to observe him only from the shoulders up he would almost look human but for the absence of ears and the bluish tint to his skin and eyes. Inside the Gouge, however, the blue appeared magenta, and his eyes burned with orange reflections of the inferno beyond.
Kolt peered down into the roiling abyss. “So. You have taken an interest in my philanthropist, Jonathon Raster. And,” he stole a sidelong glance at Enervata. “My lieutenant Jachai, for that matter.”
Enervata managed to keep his expression neutral. At face value, the insult of desecrating one’s lieutenant should garner a vengeance paid only in blood, and doubtless Kolt would endeavor to pursue it. But as they stood in this neutral theater, Kolt could not hide a glint of admiration.
Enervata rolled his shoulders. “You would expect nothing less from me, I presume.”
Kolt rasped a rueful chuckle. “No, I would expect nothing less from you, the Macul of Love Maligned. A blow it was to me. One that resulted in a small setback. But I shall recover. And already I do recover.”
Enervata’s laugh took a derisive edge, spidering with sarcasm. “Then you have my heartfelt congratulations on your presumed victory over humanity.”
Kolt’s reptilian teeth, short and pointed, gleamed amber. “Mock me then. But be warned, I do recover, Macul, I do indeed. And I daresay the dark forces favor me. Jonathan Raster was raised by his aunt, and that aunt has been stricken by an incurable illness that imparts a slow, painful death. I only regret I didn’t think of such a thing myself.”
He grinned, a snake peering into a nest full of eggs. “We are on the same path, you and I. Parallel trails that lead to the same end.”
“We have all been on that path, Kolt. For the span of a millennium. All of us bidding for the same end. Some of us have simply advanced closer to that end.”
Kolt stiffened and Enervata could see that he wrestled to contain his notorious temper. To provoke him was for Enervata so tremendously entertaining that he wished he could somehow bottle the experience for his Hall of Amusements.
“Oft one thinks one has advanced, only to find that the trail ends before the destination is met,” Kolt said. “There is talk among the brethren. And strange they find it, that Hedon has not been seen in the company of his brother Glueg for quite some time. Hedon and Glueg have been otherwise inseparable, much like Isolde and Rafe. How are my old friends, Isolde and Rafe, by the way?”
The aluminum and silicon walls of the gouge formed millions of agate-sized, jagged black mirrors, reflecting back upon one another in infinite replication.
Enervata did not reply.
“Then the rumors are true,” Kolt said with a gleam. “You have killed Rafe. And Isolde the Fair, what shall become of her? I remember those days of their youth, when you ruined my plans for dear Isolde. Such a pure heart she had. Selfless and righteous. But I nearly had her, had only to appoint Rafe’s constableship in the king’s company and she would have laid all aside for him.”
Enervata remained silent, his fury building.
“She would have done anything for him. Anything. How she must burn, now that Rafe is dead.”
Enervata barely contained his annoyance. “You speak of an incident from six hundred years ago as if it were yesterday. I can assure you, Isolde no longer bears a heart of purity, nor of selflessness, and certainly not of righteousness. And Isolde and Rafe had long since forged a healthy hatred for each other.”
Kolt sneered. “Perhaps you don’t know the fissures of your own weaknesses, my Macul brother. There are those who laugh at the foolishness of sacrificing Pravus lieutenants at such a critical point in your mission. And yes, all are aware of your current mission.”
“Really, Kolt, have you something you wish to discuss with me? I find your reminiscent drivel quite tiresome.”
Kolt’s eyes lit and Enervata knew his fury had begun to percolate. Perhaps this meeting might prove entertaining after all.
But Kolt demurred. “I invited you here to discuss a matter of strategy. As you know, our brethren share our ambitions, though none is currently as close to success as we are. I trust you heard the rumors that Nor, the Macul of Maligned Temperance, has managed to weaken a boy in Amsterdam.”
Enervata nodded, though in truth he did not know this. Such an egregious lack of intelligence gathering likely stemmed from the thinning of his staff of lieutenants. Not for the first time, he regretted having lost both Glueg and Rafe. “Nor is a fool.”
“Indeed.” Kolt rasped a chuckle. “And so it is quite interesting that now, after a millennium of striving, two should come so close to achieving the ultimate power, and that those two should be you and me.”
“Which makes us archadversaries.”
Kolt advanced two slithering paces. “Or allies.”
“Hmm.”
Enervata had suspected as much from Kolt. Having doggedly pursued a constant objective for more than a thousand years, few things surprised him. Centuries had passed since he had known any new sensations, discoveries, or ideas. Though with Gloria, some sensations indeed felt different.
Kolt seemed to misinterpret Enervata’s reverie for a gleam of interest. “Imagine: no more worry of another advancing to our place at the throne. No need to struggle quite so much. With you and me in alliance, we are guaranteed success! The world is at hand, waiting to do our bidding.”
Enervata considered. “In the past, Macul alliances have never succeeded.”
“Of course not. But those were quite different from what I’m suggesting. Past alliances have formed only in the interest of ruining another Macul’s success, and once that occurs, the alliance naturally splinters apart. Never before have two Maculs joined in the interest of mutual success.”
“You seem to be overlooking one significant detail. For me, success is inevitable, and the world is already within reach. Your situation lacks that guarantee. Unless, of course, you were to convince me to join with you.”
Kolt’s face dismantled to a black hatred. “You speak with a salient lack of respect, Macul brother!”
“Perhaps that is because I have no respect for one who comes crawling, or in your case, belly-slithering with pious talk of alliances. Where were you when you had the upper hand, Macul brother? Do you really expect me to give away half the Earth when I can just as easily have it all?”
Kolt’s grimace of fury stretched to the full extent of his jawline. “You are so certain. And yet I seem to recall a time two hundred years ago when you were also very certain. Even with the assistance of a treacherous handmaid, you were not able to successfully corrupt a bond-recherché.”
Kolt’s voice lowered with guttural derision. “And when you tasted failure you threw a hemorrhaging fit, killing all involved, the girl, the man, your Pravus lieutenants. You even wiped away the mouth of the handmaid who had assisted you. Rafe and Isolde would never have advanced as officers in your force were it not for your temper.”
“Curious you should ridicule my anger, Kolt, when our brethren laugh at you, the Macul of Corrupted Compassions, and refer to you as the Macul of Conniptioned Passions!”
Kolt’s eyes flew wide with rage, jaw working. But he caught himself, seeming to rekindle his objective. He even laughed. “So. Do they now? Conniptioned passions? Perhaps they are right, and perhaps even you are right.”
His nose wrinkled involuntarily, drawing in his upper lip. “Perhaps under the circumstances, a more enticing division would be a one-third to two-thirds split. More than fair, considering I am not the only Macul who is aware of your seduction efforts; others are even now plotting your sabotage. You must admit it is an extremely generous offering on my part.”
Enervata made a show of considering this. “Perhaps. Though I am not so certain that would be a fair reflection of success. Suppose we were to divide the Earth’s spoils in a ninety-nine to one percent balance. I would be willing to entertain that. So long as your one percent does not impinge upon my vast domain.”
Kolt’s eyes blazed and he crept forward until he was within inches of Enervata’s energy field, speaking between tiny razored teeth. “You, Enervata, have the arrogance to mock me? You believe that because you have enjoyed some modicum of success that already the Earth is yours? Your pomposity, like your dare, is beyond imagination!”
Enervata chuckled openly. “There, now for your insolence your kingdom just shrank to a small island, not even one percent. Perhaps in my generosity I’ll give you a speckled rock off the coast of San Francisco in America: Alcatraz Island.”
Kolt roared with fury, swiping his claws toward him. But his nonphysical form passed straight through Enervata’s without harm. He reared on his haunches, bellowing and flailing, growing ever more frustrated at not being able to lash out properly.