I swung open the door.
A figure stood before me, possibly the one I’d least expected to see.
“It’s cresting,” Joseph commented with a childlike smile.
CHAPTER 23
Joseph continued to smile and stare at me. I pulled him inside. He was dressed in a simple brown suit and white shirt that Barnaby’d probably bought for him, a suit not at all sufficient for the cold weather. His skin felt as cold as I would’ve expected from someone who’d been outside for a while.
Shutting the door, I brought Joseph to the couch. He didn’t get the cue when I stood him near it, so I ended up manipulating him like a doll until I had him sitting.
Claryce had set aside her revolver and had gotten a wool blanket for Barnaby’s son. She covered his shoulders with it. Joseph finally showed some life by pulling the blanket tighter. The grin didn’t leave his face at any moment.
“Is this a trick?” Claryce asked. “Is there someone outside right now, do you think?”
“Don’t see why Holmes would pull a stunt like this. Looks to me like Joseph slipped free.”
“In his condition?”
I waved a hand in front of his face. He paid it no mind. He also hadn’t blinked once since showing up. “Might be the only reason he was able to slip free. Holmes probably assumed he’d stay docile.”
“What was that he said at the door? I didn’t catch it.”
“It’s cresting,” Joseph offered helpfully, making both of us start.
“Just that,” I grumbled as the dragon snickered in my head. “He must be talking about the wake. Don’t know if that’s the right word for what it’s doing, but either way, things’re coming to a head.”
She leaned close. “How did he know to come here? He’s never been here before. Are you sure this isn’t a trap?”
“Doubtful. I can’t see this benefiting Holmes in the least.” I snapped my fingers in front of Joseph, which finally got his attention. “As for how he got here, I think he sensed I was here. Joseph had innate skills. He could’ve been someone very great. Instead, he chose to try to become infamous.”
“You still really, really despise him. I can hear it.”
“I don’t forget treachery easily. Diocles would vouch for that if you could hear him. Not too saintly, but that’s me. The Joseph I chased six years ago deserved that loathing. Barnaby’s the only reason I didn’t leave him to die with the rest.” I glared at him. “And if he doesn’t want me to regret that decision even more than I already do, he’d better start saying something.”
“The Beast rises within, the Beast rises without,” Joseph promptly answered.
Eye could scare the truth out of him, if you let me . . . or we could perhaps burn him a little . . . just a little, I promise. . . .
“No thanks,” I muttered. I knew right after I’d spoken that Claryce’d heard me, but she didn’t say anything. She’d already become accustomed to my manner in that regard. A shame.
“Any idea what we should do with him? Should we bring him back to Dunning until Barnaby recovers?”
“I doubt there’s time left. Besides, Joseph’s our only clue to where Holmes is doing all this. We just need to get him to show us . . . somehow.”
“‘Somehow.’” Grimacing, Claryce grabbed her purse and started to put the revolver back inside.
Something dropped out of it. It hit the floor with a clatter, then rolled toward me.
Joseph’s hand shot out. Whatever had fallen from the purse flew from the floor into his palm. He grinned as he looked at it.
“Shiny.”
Startled by his use of magic, I almost dismissed his new toy. Joseph’d been skilled, but he hadn’t shown much ability since losing his mind. I wondered how long he’d had even this much power.
Then I got a good glimpse of the object.
The coin Cortez’s Maria had asked him to give to Claryce. The coin . . . with the side honoring a certain saint on top.
“Michael . . .” Barnaby’s son added cheerfully.
I fought back a curse. “You know Michael, Joseph? Is Michael a friend of yours?”
In response, Joseph rose. Clutching the medallion, he stared at the door.
I joined him. “Did Michael help you escape? Can he help you help me to find out where you were?”
Joseph flipped the coin as someone might to make a decision. I tried not to get suspicious. When he’d been himself, Joseph had on occasion liked to flip a coin while he thought. I stared into his eyes, but only saw the same emptiness I’d seen since after the crash.
“Nick, try opening the door. I’ve got my coat. If he does anything, we can follow.”
It was certainly worth a try. No sooner had I done as she’d suggested than Joseph started out.
We followed. Joseph went to the street, then turned left.
I quickly grabbed his arm. “Let’s drive, Joseph. It’ll be fun.”
He didn’t give us any trouble as we led him to the Packard. There, though, I turned to Claryce. “I think we’d better make certain that Fetch and Kravayik meet us there. Go back up and call Holy Name at this number.” I gave her the one I knew only he would answer. “Tell them that we’ll pick them up there. I suspect that no matter where we drive from, Joseph’ll be able to lead us to where he was held.”
“All right.” She hurried off.
“Into the car, Joseph,” I encouraged him, giving Barnaby’s son the front passenger seat. I quickly slipped around to the driver’s side. The moment I was inside, I started the vehicle.
She will not like you tricking her like that. . . .
“It had to be done. I’m not going to apologize for it.”
Did Eye say you should? Eye would have done the same. . . .
“Great.” That made me regret my subterfuge even more. The last thing I wanted was approval by the dragon.
I drove around the nearest corner, then looked at Joseph. “Which way?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look my way, but kept staring to his right. I took that as a hint and turned again. Sure enough, Joseph looked forward.
We drove for several minutes on the same street before Joseph found interest in our left. I did as he indicated. Once more, his attention returned to the path ahead.
I’d slept most of the day and part of the night since Claryce and Fetch had brought me back. We were now deep into the night, which meant little traffic. That hardly surprised me at all. Holmes would need to perform his spellwork at night, when the moon and energies were at their optimum. Magic, especially on the human side, could involve all sorts of necessities, which was why so few here could follow the craft to any useful level. Joseph, with his aptitude for calculating when the potential for success was greatest, had far outdone his father in the arts. Had he kept to what the unknowledgeable called the “white” side, he could’ve accomplished miraculous things.
“But you just couldn’t, could you?” I blurted. “You had to have more and more, didn’t you?”
Joseph said nothing. His grin wide, he stuck his head out the window. Never mind the chill wind. None of the weather appeared to bother him. I finally refrained from trying to pull him back in.
And then . . . we turned onto West Sixty-Third. Of course. I felt like I was caught on a merry-go-round with no end to the ride. I’d been here. I’d just been here. There was nothing.
Nothing.
I tested Joseph by pretending to turn right. He kept his gaze on Sixty-Third. That was enough to convince me that we were still on the right route . . . and that we were heading to the site of the old Murder Castle.
A short time later, we came within two blocks of what remained of the sinister structure. I pulled over and guided Joseph out.
He immediately started down the street. I followed closely, purposely letting him go his own way.
As he walked, he occasionally flipped the coin. He also began gazing into the sky. Once, he stopped and studied the air as if fascinated by something just above a bui
lding, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what.
And slowly, very slowly, we edged toward what I was certain had to be our ultimate destination.
When he reached the street corner across from where Holmes had set up his torture and murder sanctum, I thought I might be wrong. Seeing it even in the dark of night did nothing to make it any more sinister. Perhaps once it’d been a place of the darkest evil, but now it was just another street, maybe only worse because of the gangland activity it’d just suffered. Of course, there weren’t many streets in Chicago that could brag they were innocent of bloodshed these days. Even before O’Banion’s murder in his flower shop, Chicago had seen a regular flow of blood, dating so far back as “Big Jim” Colosimo’s mysterious death five years back. That would conveniently allow his second, “Papa Johnny” Torrio, to take over just as Prohibition was turning bootlegging into a lucrative enterprise that Colosimo supposedly had rejected.
The only signs of the slaughter of Holmes’s dupes were some marks on the street and some bits of glass swept over to the curb from the shattered windows, which hadn’t been boarded up yet. I watched Joseph as he looked from the ruined stores to the building where Claryce and I had met Holmes, and then farther down Sixty-Third as if seeing something there more interesting.
Eye will show you. . . .
The dragon’s gaze smoothly overtook mine. Unfortunately, even then I couldn’t make out just what so fascinated Barnaby’s wayward son.
He then looked east, toward the general direction of Lake Michigan. At some point, he’d apparently pocketed the medallion. One hand suddenly went up and began drawing invisible symbols in the air. After a moment, I realized that Joseph was doing mental calculations. It was another surprising hint at just how active his mind was. I didn’t like that. Right now, he might be like an innocent child, but I didn’t want any chance of the original Joseph returning. If that even looked remotely like it might happen, then I’d probably have to do something for which Barnaby’d hate me forever. I wasn’t about to let Joseph find himself again; the world couldn’t risk that.
For several seconds, he continued to draw in the air. Then, he looked up again in the direction of the lake. After that, another glance farther down the street.
“What the hell’re you looking at?” I growled as I rejoined him. “What?”
“The crest is coming. The shadow lingers while it grows,” he responded simply, as if that answered everything.
He is madder than all Feirie. . . .
“Won’t argue with you there. You aren’t holding back anything, are you?” I asked the dragon with some suspicion.
Nothing. . . . Eye swear on our life. . . .
That didn’t really assuage me, but I chose to take it as true. Holmes’s spellwork had already proven a threat to not just me, but him. I knew him well enough to be fairly certain that now he wanted the Beast destroyed as much as I did, if for more personal reasons. He hardly cared about either realm. All that mattered was his existence, even as slight as it’d become since I’d slain his physical form.
Joseph lowered his hand and took a few steps down Sixty-Third. He nodded, then turned in a complete circle.
I grew more exasperated. I could imagine Holmes laughing at us. For all I knew, he might actually be doing that.
Trying not to let my frustration get the best of me, I grabbed Joseph by the shoulder. “Listen! If you—”
I stopped, stunned. The entire scene abruptly changed. Now, instead of just seeing the world as the dragon could, I was finally getting a glimpse at what Joseph was seeing.
A different Chicago greeted my widening eyes, a Chicago that had and hadn’t existed since some three decades before. Updated buildings now reverted to what they’d surely been during the exposition. There were even faint figures of people moving back and forth, people dressed as I remembered the time. These, though, didn’t strike me as active ghosts, but rather mere memories. Holmes’s memories.
But there were two differences that made everything else pale in comparison. The first was the sky. A huge shadow hung over it, a shadow with a distorted but still recognizable arch to it.
The Gate. I was staring at some all but invisible shadow of the Gate. It stretched for miles, stretched farther than the Gate itself by far. It wasn’t quite black or gray. There was a crimson edge to it that pulsed consistently and seemed to be growing in intensity each time.
And slowly . . . ever so slowly . . . it was moving across Chicago, enveloping more and more of it in the process. Wherever it touched, the same unsettling crimson edge outlined what I could see. It was so massive, we’d even driven under it a good part of the time. Hell, almost all of the time during our investigation of Holmes.
I silently cursed the Gate, cursed the Frost Moon, cursed my ever having ridden against the dragon. That last, in turn, rewarded me with a snort that resounded in my mind. He’d been guardian of the Gate long before my coming. Where I’d had to put up with it for centuries, he’d done so for millennia.
And then, even the great shadow . . . created by the Frost Moon’s wake, I had no doubt . . . was dwarfed by that which I’d searched for, if only because I knew it to be the locus of all the danger. It stood several stories tall, towering over all other nearby buildings and spreading an entire block . . . and the dark energies I saw radiating from it sent a chill through me.
The lair of the Beast of Chicago stood in all its hideous glory, larger than in life, more dreadful than in legend. There were windows on each floor, but all were barred to prevent escape. It had a squat, brick design that further led to its sense of a prison, a trap from which no one could escape. Even the storefronts below looked different. At the moment, I didn’t know which of them, if any, had an actual store, but I suspected that Holmes had designed things so that those inside would remain innocent of what was going on above them. They, in turn, would provide him with camouflage.
Without thinking, I took my hand off Joseph’s shoulder. Holmes’s unsettling world vanished.
I quickly put my hand back again. Things returned to their awful magnificence.
“Almost there. Just a little longer,” Joseph murmured cheerfully. “We should board the airship now. It’ll be a fun ride.”
I quickly looked at him, but only saw the vacant stare. It shouldn’t have been surprising that little bits of his past might still exist. He thought he was getting ready to hatch his plot on the Wingfoot.
“First, we have to stop inside this fine place here,” I answered, pointing at the Murder Castle. “Isn’t that right?”
In response, he grinned. “I wish Father could see this.”
With that, he headed on toward Holmes’s sanctum.
I kept my hand on his shoulder. At some point, there had to be a way to keep everything in existence without holding onto Joseph. Otherwise, that’d make it more than a little awkward to face Holmes.
Slowly, we closed on the building. For the first time, I noticed that while there were doors, they were all sealed at the edges. I wondered how we were supposed to get inside.
Joseph didn’t share this concern. He kept walking as if he intended on colliding with the sealed entrance. I trusted in his decision even though I also kept expecting him to crush his nose against the door.
But instead of colliding, he walked through the blocked entrance. I nearly lost my grip on his shoulder, but succeeded in keeping it enough so that when I reached the door, I, too, walked through it as if it didn’t exist.
The interior was a macabre parody of a hotel lobby, with walls covered in some festering moss and a floor covered in marble segments each cracked in the center. There was a desk where one signed in and even a guest book open for use.
A couch and three chairs sat to the side, the leather an odd shade. I wanted to take a closer look, so I steered Joseph toward it.
As I neared, I noticed that it had a tanned leather covering. I hadn’t seen leather like this, though. Still keeping my one hand on Joseph, I reached down with the
other to feel the material.
A howl filled my head. I stumbled back as a very human cry faded away.
Catching my breath, I returned to the couch. Slowly, I reached out to touch it again.
Have a care . . . the dragon warned. From his tone, I could tell that he was very loath to repeat what’d just happened.
And again came the scream.
This time, I forced myself to keep my hand on it. The scream subsided to a consistent sob.
I recoiled. I understood what I was sensing. I also understood just what material this was which with Holmes’d covered the furniture.
I also understood that it’d taken more than one victim, too.
“All right, Joseph,” I muttered as I attempted to wipe the image from my mind. I’d come across monsters in both human and Feirie form before, but Holmes guaranteed to be one of the worst and certainly living up to his infamous title. “Let’s you and I get—”
Two things gave me pause. One was that I finally noticed that I wasn’t holding onto him and yet still remained in Holmes’s world. That solved that problem.
Unfortunately, the other thing was that Joseph was gone.
Cursing, I tried to figure out which direction he’d headed. There was a winding set of steps heading up to the next floor and beyond, but the steps were covered in moss that should’ve made impressions of his footprints. To the side stood a rusted elevator, its open doors not at all inviting. A regular door, not in any better shape than the elevator, hung slightly off its hinges.
I wasn’t sure if all this was for effect for anyone unfortunate enough to enter Holmes’s sanctum or if it was this way because it was an extension of the Beast’s twisted mind. Whichever the case, I knew that I had to make a choice and make it quickly.
I was probably making the wrong decision, but I decided to take the stairway. It was wider and gave me a better view of what I was heading toward. As I started up, I drew Her Lady’s gift. Anything that got in my way was going to meet its point quickly. All that mattered was reaching Holmes, preferably without him knowing I was here.
Of course, for all I knew Joseph’d already returned to him. If that was the case, Holmes was probably setting up a trap.
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