Now what ? Would they dismember him? Would the straps get tighter and crush his lungs? Instead, the men began to argue. It was in Yiddish, of course, Hebrew being only for prayers, and it took Jack a moment to catch what they were saying. It was about someone they called the Rescuer, and ancient texts detailing what to do to this person if he ever showed up. Kill him? Let him live but never release him? It didn't take Jack long to realize the Rescuer was himself.
One said the Rescuer was innocent because he did not understand his crime. Another claimed that only actions matter, not knowledge or intent. A couple then said they themselves were the guilty ones, for they did not try to correct him. But still another said to tell was useless. "As it is written," he said, "'You shall hide your treasure from the stranger, for the stranger will come with eyes painted over, and ears filled with stone.'"
Enough of this bullshit , Jack thought. The treasure they were holding was a woman's soul. He couldn't reach any of his weapons or tricks, but he didn't need to. He had something better. Jack had once met an old-fashioned golem, the kind made out of dirt by some rabbi. The thing is, the rabbi got so excited, or maybe guilty, that he fell down dead of a heart attack just after the creature came to life. With no master to obey, and stuck in a room full of books, the golem began to study. There were Talmudic texts, but also books on magic. By the time Jack had met him, the golem had become a world famous scholar. Kabbalists, Sufis, and others would travel thousands of miles to study with him.
Jack had come for something simpler. Names. Jewish magic was based on the secret names of God, and just knowing one or two could give you great power. Jack served the golem for twenty-eight days. The idea of a human taking orders from a golem amused the creature so much he kept thinking of new commands just to watch Jack obey them. Finally, the Mud Rabbi, as some called him, gave Jack three names. One to create, one to destroy—and one to escape.
Jack called out the escape name. To his surprise, it hurt his throat, but the effect on the men was more extreme. They cried out and fell to their knees, hands over their ears and yelling curses at him. " Schwartze sorcerer!" he heard, but ignored them as the leather straps fell from his body. He weaved his way through the men to the ark.
Finally he opened it. At first it looked empty, and Jack felt ready to smash something. Then he looked again and saw a small figure, a girl about three inches high. She sat on what looked like a stone chair, with her hands folded in the lap of a shapeless dress that might have been made from animal skin. Despite her tiny size the onyx ring shone brightly on her finger. "Please help me," she said. "They've kept me here so long ." Jack could hear the tears rather than see them. Once again, he thought of Genie.
"It's all right," Jack said, "I've come to take you home."
"Hurry," the girl said.
But before Jack could reach for her, a strong woman's voice called out, "Shade. You don't know what you're doing."
What the fuck now ? Jack thought. He wanted to grab the girl and run, but didn't dare, so he turned and saw what he first thought was an old man in a white robe of heavy wool, with a long white beard, and white hair down his back. Then he looked closer and saw it was a woman. He thought for a second of Abby, the Bearded Lady at the carnival where Jack had worked long ago. Jack had dated her for a while, and when they kissed, Jack sometimes felt like Abby was the man, and Jack the woman, a sensation he found oddly exciting.
In the room, the dupes, still on their knees, called out " Der Wisser Rebbe! Der Wisser Rebbe! "
Jack looked at this "White master" and wondered if he could ignore her, or shove her aside if she tried to stop him. Probably not a great idea, he decided. He had a vial of Vatican holy water in his tunic. Maybe he should douse her and announce her baptized in the name of Christ. Instead, he said, "I know exactly what I'm doing. Bringing back a soul that was taken a long time ago."
In the ark, the girl pleaded "Don't listen to her. She's crazy! She holds me and hurts me."
The Rebbe said, "Mr. Shade, this is your last chance. Please. Turn back."
"Tell me why I should do that," Jack said.
Sadness, and maybe fear, clouded her face a moment, then she said, "I cannot. The Ancient of Winds has ordered silence."
"Well, that's fucking convenient."
The Rebbe closed her eyes and began to sway, as if in prayer. Suddenly, images, sounds, smells swept through Jack's senses. They came and went so quickly he couldn't really identify anything, but there was a great wind somehow smashing into a stone wall, and blood, and burnt meat. And laughter. Then it was all gone, and Jack found himself staggering back from the Bearded Lady. "What the hell was that?" he said. "What did you do to me?"
"More than I should have. More than I'm allowed."
Jack glanced at the miniature child on her chair in the Ark. Why didn't he just take her and run? As if she could sense his confusion the small voice pleaded "We have to go. Now! She's trying to take over your mind. Please . No one's ever come this far before."
Jack shook his head a moment. No one —had Carol Acker hired someone before Jack? Did cousin Jerry actually try before he gave Carol Jack's card? Something was wrong—he looked at the White Rebbe. Her eyes stared at him, unblinking. Of course. The girl was right, the old woman was trying to hypnotize him.
He closed his eyes and grimaced, then shook his head. When he looked again, the Rebbe seemed to have shrunk slightly, her gaze more sad than dangerous. Jack said, "Actually, it doesn't matter if I believe you or not. I have a kind of curse. It's called a Guest. I cannot refuse anyone who brings me a special token. A woman hired me to find her missing soul and bring it back to her."
"Her soul ?" the Rebbe said. "That's the word she used?" She inclined her head toward the ark. "For that ?"
"Yes. And it doesn't matter if she got it right or wrong. I have no choice."
The woman said something in Hebrew. Then, "So. You took a vow, and now it holds you prisoner."
"That's pretty much it."
She glanced at Jack's right boot. "You have a knife. If you cut your throat your Guest would have to leave."
"Don't bet on it."
"Ah, but even if your curse torments you beyond death you would no longer be able to do what should never be done."
And no longer able to bring back my daughter, imprisoned in the Forest Of Souls . Jack moved his eyes from the Rebbe's stare, and suddenly he was sick of all this. These creatures, or Powers, or whatever they were, had taken part of a girl's soul and locked it away behind layers and layers of illusion. It was time to take her home.
He took a golden needle from his survival tunic and moved it across the doorway, conscious all the time of the Rebbe standing motionless alongside him, the dupes behind them. If the end of the needle turned to iron Jack would have to identify whatever was dangerous before he could reach inside. With a smugness that made Jack want to slap her, the Rebbe said, "Don't worry, your Dialectical Needle will stay pure. It's not the ark that threatens you."
Jack finished his examination, then put the needle away. Finally he reached inside the box. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his arm didn't burn up or turn to stone. "Hurry," the girl said. "You don't know what they do."
"It's okay," Jack said. "I won't let them hurt you anymore. I'm going to put my hand around you, but don't be scared." The last thing that Jack saw before he took hold of the girl was the White Rebbe, her eyes closed, her mouth set in a smile that seemed to express the sadness of centuries. Then the whirlwind hit.
Tight swirls of power, so intense they felt more like wires than gusts of wind. The room was gone, and there was stone all around,. But Jack couldn't worry about that. He managed to get the hand holding the girl next to his face, and said above the screeching winds, "There is a tree in my pocket. When I put you there hold on tight to the tree and you'll be safe." The tree was a six-hundred-year-old sequoia Jack had gotten as a gift in the Miniature Forest. He'd thought he might plant it somewhere as an offering, but this wa
s the best use for it. Now they had to get out of there.
There wasn't much time. He could feel the lacerations on his face and wrists, anywhere that wasn't covered. Jack closed his eyes and mouth and didn't dare breathe. Somehow he managed to reach a hand into a long shallow pocket and take out a crow feather. Every year, on no set day, thirteen such feathers appeared on the unmarked grave of Peter Midnight, the early New York Traveler buried in Manhattan's Inwood Hill Park. There were people who spent weeks camped out in the park in hopes of getting one, but Jack had received a message this past year from the Queen of Eyes, telling him the exact moment the feathers would drift to the ground from a high-flying murder of crows.
With his left hand Jack moved the feather counter-clockwise, in flat horizontal circles. At first he could only do it right in front of him, but slowly the winds backed off and he could turn his whole body around. He stopped when an opening appeared in the air. It was clearly a way out but all it led to was some kind of cave, and Jack was done with hopping world to world. Using the feather as a kind of paintbrush, he drew a doorway where the rough opening was. At the same time he called out a set of numbers. They were like GPS coordinates, except they included more dimensions. And were much older, invented by an Italian Traveler who'd had to rescue a foolish poet who'd accepted an offer of a tour of Hell.
Jack's office materialized on the other side of the doorway. The air appeared thick, almost congealed, but Carol Acker was there, still on her chair in the circle of roses. A couple of hours must have passed, because he could see it was dark outside the windows, but Carol looked peaceful, her eyes closed, her hands in her lap.
Though Jack knew the tiny figure in his pocket couldn't hear him above the angry winds, he said, "Be brave, little soul. You're almost home." With a twist of his body he propelled himself through the doorway.
He landed hard on the floor, just outside the circle. "Jack?" Carol asked, and lifted her head but kept her eyes closed.
"Yes, it's me. Don't open your eyes just yet." He turned on a desk lamp so he could see her more clearly. When he glanced at the digital clock on his desk he discovered even more time had passed than he thought, for it was nearly nine o'clock. He frowned. Had she been sitting there all that time?
Carol said, "Did you—"
"Yes. I have it." Jack hoped these were not empty words. What if the girl—Carol's soul—had not survived the winds? When he reached in his pocket he could feel her still clinging tightly to the sequoia, so he lifted out the tree, with her attached, and set it on the table. He whispered to her, "It's okay. You can let go now." As gently as he could he pried loose her arms, then placed her on his left palm. She looked up at him with a mixture of hope and fear. "Get ready for something wonderful," he whispered to her, then louder, "Carol, something's about to happen. It may feel like a jolt, but it's okay."
"I'm ready," Carol said.
As Jack moved his hand closer to Carol, the girl on it became even smaller, no more than a quarter-inch tall as he brought his palm close to Carol's ear. With a sharp puff he blew on the girl and she vanished into Carol's ear canal.
Carol spasmed, and gasped, but she kept her eyes closed, and her hands clasped. And then she didn't move. Jack pulled up a chair to face her, then waited a full three minutes before he said softly, "Carol? Are you all right?"
For another twenty seconds or so she didn't answer, but then the left side of her mouth turned up a slight smile, and she said, "Oh, yes. That's much better." The voice sounded the same as before, but with more notes and undertones. Still in her seat, Carol opened her eyes. They were the same as before, only deeper, with new subtleties of color. Jack found that if he looked long enough he could see flickers of red deep inside her.
She sat back and looked at Jack, a slight smile on her face. "So," she said, "you met Der Wisser Rebbe ." He must have looked startled because she laughed and said, "Did she make you feel like a young girl again, Jack? That delightful beard. She really is quite old, you know. Well, not as old as me, of course. But all those rules . Things you can say, things you can't say, how does she keep track? I wonder, dear Jack, my hero, my rescuer—if she'd allowed herself to tell you the full truth, would it have made a difference? I doubt it. I imagine plucky Jack Shade still would have brought back timid Carol's missing soul." She stood up and stretched.
Jack tried to stand, but she flicked her fingers and he discovered he couldn't move. When she picked up her purse she said, "Did I pay you? Yes, of course, prudent Jack got his fee up front. Maybe I should double it. You did go through a lot. And I certainly won't want for money. But no. A deal is a deal, and we wouldn't want to spoil you."
At the door she stopped and said, "Oh, and Jack? Remember how you told me to envision a homecoming cake? I just want you to know—I blew out all the candles ." And then she was gone.
* * *
Jack stayed frozen in his chair a long time. The night passed and the dawn came and still he couldn't move. When he was finally able to get up it was seven in the morning. He raced to the bathroom, then ignored all the debris and went straight to his laptop. Usually, if he needed to know what was going on, he opened Djinn.net, the dark web service for Travelers and Powers. But something told him he needed the outside world, so he went to the standard internet.
It didn't take long to discover what he didn't want to know. CNN.com burst forth with the headline, "Breaking news! Grisly Double Murder In New Jersey Suburb!" The live feed showed an ordinary ranch house surrounded by police cars. In front, a young correspondent, her face set to "grim" to hide her excitement, said, "We still don't know much yet, Wolf. The police have released the names of the victims, Jerry and Marjorie Acker." Jack began to shake. The woman went on, "According to one policeman I spoke to—and Wolf, I have to tell you, he looked very shocked—the bodies were, quote, 'torn to pieces.'" She paused, as if to convey her own horror, then added, "And one strange detail. Apparently, the killer, or perhaps killers, used the blood, maybe even body parts, to write a cryptic message on the wall of the murder room. Just two words, Wolf. 'Much better.'"
Jack closed his laptop. Still shaking, he reached for the phone.
2.
"FEEBIE" SAM HARWIN and Dean "the Fed" Margolis, so-called because of their ability to impersonate FBI agents, showed up at Carol and Bob Acker's home on Long Island only half an hour after Carolien Hounstra had called them. Though Carolien had said she did not expect Carol to be there, she also told them to bring every level of protection they could manage—etheric body armor, spells written on their faces, clothes, and genitals in invisible ink, entire cans of demon repellent sprayed on their bodies, and whatever charms and weapons they could carry in their conservative FBI suits. Sure enough, however, it wasn't Carol who opened the door, but her grief-stricken and confused husband.
"Is this about Jerry?" Bob Acker asked, and Sam said yes. "But why would I—I haven't seen Jerry in months. Well, Carol—" He stopped himself.
Dean asked, "Is Mrs. Acker here, sir?"
Terror crept into Bob's eyes. "No, she—she was so upset—hearing about Jerry and Marge's death—she said, she said she needed to be alone for a while."
The two Travelers looked at each other. Sam turned to Bob and asked "Did she say anything else?"
Bob looked down. "Yes—she said, she said I and the kids and our grandkids would be safe. That no one would bother us." Now he raised his eyes. "What did she mean? Officer, I mean agent, how could she know that? I mean, did the killer speak to her? Was she going away to save us somehow? She's not—she's not going to get hurt, is she? He's not going to do to her what he did to— oh God ."
Dean cast a glamour over the poor man to erase such thoughts from his head. In a voice enhanced by Basic Persuasion, he said, "There's no need to worry, Mr. Acker. These kinds of cases never work that way."
Acker looked confused. "These kinds of cases?" he said, but then his voice trailed off, and a moment later said, "Oh, thank you. That's so good to hear."
; "We're sorry for your loss," Sam said, and then the two men headed for their car.
"Oh, excuse me," Bob Acker called after them. They stopped, turned. "Do you guys have an agent named Jack Shade?"
"Fuck," Dean said, under his breath. All they knew was that Carolien had called them at the New York Travelers Aid Society and asked them to check on this Acker guy. Something to do with his cousin's death. And that they should protect themselves, and if the wife was there, to be prepared for trouble.
To Bob, Dean said, "Yes, we do. New York office. Do you know him?"
"No, no, but my wife asked me, she said if anyone came asking about her, to find out if they knew this Shade person. And if they did, to give them a message for him. For Mr. Shade, that is."
"So what's the message?"
"She said to tell him she was just getting started. Warming up."
"Were those her exact words?"
"Yes. Yes, I think so."
"Thank you," Dean said, and then, "Mr. Acker, look at me, please." Acker's face slackened. "Good. Now this is important. It's for your country. You do love your country, don't you?" Acker nodded. "Good. You will forget the name Jack Shade. You will forget us . You will forget your wife's message. All you will remember is that you and your family are safe. Will you do that for me? For your country?"
"Yes," Bob Acker said.
"Very good." Dean walked to the car, where Sam already had the engine running.
As their black Altima jerked away from the curb, Dean said, "Jesus fucking Christ. Jack Shade . What the goddamn hell has Johnnie Reckless done now?"
* * *
Jack's phone call to Carolien had been only three words. "I need you." When she arrived, seventeen minutes later, and saw Jack just sitting there, so clearly frightened, and the other chair inside the remains of a rose petal circle, she grabbed a third chair to sit down right in front of him, and took his hands. "Tell me," she said.
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