The Black

by D. J. MacHale

  "What did you do?"

  Maggie's eyes dropped to the ground. "Nothing. I told myself that he had gotten out. After all, the door was unlocked. He would have escaped at the first sign of trouble. That's what I believed to be true, but I would be lying if I said I didn't hope I was wrong."

  "When did you realize he was trapped?" I asked.

  Maggie turned around and sat down on the ground, sobbing. I couldn't imagine the guilt she was feeling, even if her father was a vicious creep.

  Through labored gasps she said, "I knew when I saw my mother run up to the barn to try and save him."

  "Oh man," I gasped.

  "It was a nightmare. She ran from the house to the barn. I saw her fumble with the lock. That's when I knew I hadn't opened it after all. I shouted to her that it was unlocked, but she couldn't hear over the roar of the fire. She eventually got the lock off and threw the door open—"

  Maggie buried her head in her hands but continued. "It was like an oven. There was nothing but flame, but she went in anyway. After all he'd done to her, to us, she still tried to save him. I finally left the window and ran downstairs. It felt so far away. Three floors. I ran to the barn, screaming for my mother, hoping to see her staggering out of the door with my father. Or without him. All I wanted was for my mother to be safe."

  Her voice trailed off. She didn't have to tell me what had happened. Or didn't happen. I didn't know what to say. That it wasn't her fault? That she didn't mean for it to happen? That it was a mistake? That it was her father's fault she didn't open the lock because he had knocked her silly? Nothing I could say would have made it any better.

  Maggie took a minute to get herself together and then finished the story.

  "They decided the fire started with a lantern that had fallen over. My father often worked by lantern light instead of paying for electricity. But he used so many different paints and solvents that a small fire could be disastrous. He knew that, but didn't care. He must have fallen asleep on the couch and didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. They found him at the foot of a ladder. He was trying to climb to the windows on top. My mother never got close to him. They found her just inside the door. I don't believe she suffered for long. It's amazing that the structure didn't burn. Just the inside. From out here it looks like a normal barn. I guess it's kind of like people. You never know what's on the inside."

  "So you were left on your own?" I asked. "Did you have any other family?"

  "None that I knew of. People pretended to be concerned about me, but I knew the truth. They thought I deliberately tried to kill my father. But nobody could prove it, or bothered to. My father was not a popular man. If not for my mother having died, they probably would have considered me a hero. But she did die. So they called me a murderer. Not to my face, though. I went to live with a woman from our church. She was nice enough, but I always felt as if she was watching me in case I tried to hurt her. I never did go to school. Instead I worked at a local mill as a felt cutter." "You worked at the National Felt Company? I know that place."

  "It was an empty existence. The work was mindless and I couldn't make friends. Nobody wanted to be seen with a killer. But I had an escape. Whenever I got the chance, I rode my bike up the river road to a spot where the water widened. It was my own private swimming hole that was away from everything and everybody. The suspicious stares. The whispering. I loved going to that spot in the river. To be alone and to float in the cool water. Far away from fire."

  "I think I know that spot you're talking about."

  She gave a sad chuckle and said, "It's where I died. They say you should never go swimming alone and they were right. I slipped on a wet rock and fell, hitting my head. It was just a dumb accident. It wouldn't even have been a bad injury… if I hadn't landed in the water. I don't know who found me. I didn't go back to see my funeral. There might not have been one. They don't bury murderers on church grounds. I ended up here. This is my vision of the Black. The most horrible memory I could imagine. I'm forced to live with it until I move on. So you can see why I'm not afraid of going to the Blood. Nothing that could happen to me could be worse than what I live with here, constantly reminded of the worst mistake a person could make."

  "But it was a mistake," I said. "You can't be punished for all eternity because of a mistake."

  "No?" she asked. "Tell them."

  I looked to the barn, where two Watchers stood. I thought about screaming at them to come and listen to Maggie's side of the story, but realized it would have been a waste. They would just disappear.

  "Thank you," she said. "For listening, and at least pretending that I'm not evil."

  "I'm not pretending. And thank you too."

  "For what?" she asked.

  "For telling me the truth. And for the kiss."

  She smiled sadly.

  "There's one thing that's clear to me now," I said. "I get why you're here and not in the Blood. You may have wanted to hurt your father, and it sounds like he deserved it, but you changed your mind. You meant to open the lock and that means you aren't a murderer. You're here to work that out and I believe you will."

  "Thank you, Cooper."

  I added, "But that means I can't let you help me anymore."

  "But . . . why?"

  I stood up. "This is my problem and I could be going about it all the wrong way, but that's my choice. I won't let you risk your own future anymore, now that I know you really have one."

  Maggie got up to face me. The tears were gone. "You can't tell me what choices to make. It's my life. My afterlife."

  "I know. You'll do what you've got to do. It just won't be with me."

  I leaned forward and gave her a kiss.

  "When this is done, I want to take you to Playland again."

  She scowled at me. My charm wasn't working.

  "Cooper, you can't—"

  "See you soon," I said, and stepped backward into my own cloud of color . . .

  To arrive on the lawn of my family's cottage on Thistledown Lake. In the Light. It was a sunny day. Nobody was around. My plan was to find Marsh or Sydney or anybody in my family to see if they'd finally figured out what had happened to me.

  The search didn't take long. I heard a horrified scream come from our boathouse farther down the shore. I knew that scream. It was Sydney.

  Damon was true to his word.

  He was not going to leave them alone until he got what he wanted.

  18

  I followed the sound of Sydney's scream, sprinting along the shore toward the boathouse.

  "Damon!" I shouted.

  When I got closer, I heard muffled voices coming from inside. Scared voices. And splashing. No, more like thrashing. There was more than one person inside and they were in trouble. Was it Marsh in there with Sydney? When I got to the door, I saw that the padlock was locked. I had a quick flash of Maggie's barn. Bad image.

  I was about to act like a spirit and walk through the wall when I saw something seeping out between the boards of the hut. I took a step back and scanned the wall to see liquid drooling from every crack and seam. Red liquid. The building was bleeding.

  More panicked voices and splashing came from inside. I'd heard enough. I walked up to the wall, stepped through . . . and entered a world of red. It was totally disorienting. It was like the boathouse had been filled up with blood, but that was impossible. It had to have been one of Damon's illusions.

  The blood was so dense that I couldn't see Sydney and whoever else was with her, but I sensed movement everywhere.

  And panic. I saw an arm flash by, and a cooler. It may have been an illusion, but for them it was real. If the illusion drove them down into the real water, they could drown. I had to try and get them out of there.

  I floated through the red . . . whatever . . . until I was outside again. Like I did when I searched the lake for the remains of my boat, I floated around the outside of the boathouse until I was in front of the double boat doors. They were closed tight and
locked. Blood flowed from every crack as if it were under pressure. I expected the whole place to explode like a ripe tomato with a cherry bomb inside. The blood may have been an illusion, but the closed doors weren't. There was only one way out of that death trap. Sydney had to swim down to the lake bottom and move under the double doors. But with such a turbulent mess inside, there was no way she would know which direction to swim in.

  Unless I showed her.

  I dropped down into the water and moved under the doors into the dark red of the illusion. I felt another body flailing around. Was it Marsh? I never should have trusted Damon. I reached out in desperation, hoping to grab on to an arm or a leg and tug them in the right direction, but my hand passed through them as smoothly as it passed through the blood. I needed to do something to get their attention. What was there? Sound? I didn't know how I could make any kind of sound, let alone something that could be heard underwater.

  I moved back out under the boat door, thinking I would have more luck finding something outside than in the illusion where there was zero visibility. I broke the surface of the lake and looked around to see . . . nothing. I was losing my mind. Sydney was running out of time and I was helpless. My experience with being a spirit was limited. I didn't have the tools or the knowledge to save them. Damon, on the other hand, had centuries of practice. How could I compete with that?

  I thought back to some of the things he had done to influence the living. There was no way I could create an illusion. I wasn't in that league. I couldn't do much physically either, like blow open the doors. I didn't have that kind of power. Not like Damon. Then I remembered the trailer.

  George 0.'s house. Light. Could I somehow bend light in some way so that they would see it? Maggie told me that the stronger the connection between the spirit and the living, the better chance there was of using that energy to make things happen. My sister was near death. I had to believe the possibility was there.

  I dropped below the surface and moved close to the boat doors, but didn't go inside. I wanted Sydney to come to me. I wanted to create a beacon that would cut through the murky water and give them a target to lead them out of the illusion. I sat on the lake bottom, looked up, and saw the blurry sun through the few feet of water between me and the surface. I felt like an idiot, but I tried to push negative thoughts out of my head. If I didn't believe it could happen, there was zero chance it would. I kept my eyes on the sun, trying to suck its rays down to me.

  Nothing happened. I don't know what I expected. A laser beam of light that would streak out of the sky? It felt hopeless. Sydney was going to drown in an illusion. Maybe Marsh too. I was already planning on how I would get my revenge and make Damon suffer for what he had done.

  That's when I saw a figure swimming toward me. It was Marsh! He had hold of Sydney's shirt and the two of them were kicking in my direction. I didn't know if they had just gotten lucky and picked the right direction, or it was something I had done. There weren't any laser beams of light flying around. What had happened? Maybe they could see me! I motioned for them to follow, and saw my hand. It had a faint glow. I looked at my other hand, and that too had a slight glow. Looking down, I saw that my entire body was pulsing with light. It was like I had gone nuclear. I think I can best describe it as saying I was giving off energy. I felt as if I had willed my body to absorb sunlight and give it back out.

  I quickly turned and moved along the lake bottom to lead them out from under the boathouse. The water was growing brighter like a murky cloud of muck was being washed away by a rogue current. Sydney pulled away from Marsh and swam harder. Her lungs must have been screaming. Marsh grabbed her arm and pointed up. He knew they had cleared the boathouse doors and were in open water. Sydney followed and the two of them swam for the surface. I went up too and broke out of the water at the same moment that Marsh and Sydney did. Both gasped for air.

  Alive. Once out of the water, the glow from my body was gone. No problem. I didn't need to be neon anymore.

  Sydney turned back to the boathouse. "My god," she said through deep breaths.

  Both Marsh and I looked to see that the illusion was over. Blood no longer oozed from the cracks. All was normal.

  "C'mon," Marsh said, and swam for shore. Sydney swam right behind him.

  I couldn't be sure if they'd seen my glowing self or not, but I had to believe that they had. Once again I had gone against the rules and influenced events in the Light. I didn't care. I was going to do whatever it took to protect my family and friend.

  As I watched them crawl out of the water and up onto the grass, I saw that someone else was onshore. Damon stood laughing as if my friend's near-drowning was a show put on for his amusement.

  I flew toward shore. Literally. Faster than I had moved before. I willed myself to be there, and in less than a second I sped past Marsh and Sydney and slammed into Damon, hitting him and driving him off his feet. We both landed, hard, but not on the grass near the cottage.

  We hit the dusty ground of Damon's vision in the Black. We were back in the ancient town square. I sat on his chest and wailed on him, throwing punches at his face. It didn't matter that I couldn't really hurt him. My anger had taken over and I wanted him to suffer for what he had done. All he could do was throw his hands up to protect himself.

  Before I ran out of gas I felt strong hands grab me from behind and pull me off. Two of Damon's soldier buddies had come to his rescue and it took both of them to hold me back. That's how fired up I was.

  "You lied!" I screamed at him. "You tried to kill them!"

  Damon rolled onto his side and touched his face. I hoped he was in pain and I had added another scar to his collection. He was surprisingly calm for somebody who had just gotten the snot beaten out of him. He then looked at me and smiled, revealing his two pointed teeth.

  It turned my stomach.

  "You're an animal," was all I could say.

  "I did not lie," he said. "I told you I would leave him alone if you helped me and you have not."

  "So you tried to kill him? And my sister? What is wrong with you? How is killing them going to help you get your weapon?"

  Damon stood up and casually brushed the dirt from his tunic as if nothing worse had just happened to him than getting a little messy.

  "Assistance," he declared.

  The soldier ran up to him and while Damon stood there with his arms out, the soldier brushed all the remaining dirt from his robe like he was a regal king and they were his slaves.

  "I would not have let them die," Damon said matter-of-factly. "At least not the boy. The girl means nothing to me."

  I pulled away from one of the soldiers to try and get another shot at him. Damon didn't even flinch. The soldier was bigger than me and quickly grabbed my arm again, locking it behind my back.

  "What is the point?" I screamed in anger.

  "I want him to be afraid . . . to wonder when the next horrifying image might appear. It is quite the art, you know. It is not only about what I show him but what he fears I might show him."

  "You're just cruel," I spat.

  "Cruel, and effective. When someone has been reduced to a primal state of fear and paranoia, they will do anything to make it end. To return to normal. When I believe he has reached that level of desperation, I will offer him salvation. He will be more than willing to find the poleax."

  Damon strolled casually to the fountain, reached down, and scooped some water to wash his face.

  "Besides," he continued, "even if he is stronger than I believe, haunting him has the added benefit of forcing you to do what I want. Though I have to admit, you have not performed as I expected."

  "I found Adeipho," I said.

  Damon looked genuinely surprised. "You went to his vision of Ehalon?"

  "I don't know about any Ehalon. I went to a city. It looked like New York."

  "I do not understand. You used the ear to find Adeipho and it took you to a modern city?" he asked.

  "Didn't I just say that?"


  He seemed genuinely surprised. It wasn't an act. Damon paced, staring at the ground, trying to understand the implication of what I was saying.

  "You are certain it was him?" he asked.

  "How many guys do you know with one ear and a killer sword?" I asked. "Besides, he knew you. He wants another shot at you, by the way. What did you do to piss him off like that?"

  "Interesting," Damon said, thinking out loud. "That cannot be his vision. Not a modern city."

  "Maybe it was the vision of one of his friends. He has plenty. They're all freaks."

  "Traitors," Damon spat. "Every last one of them. None would have a modern city as their vision."

  "Well, somebody does," I said. "Maybe it was the guy in charge."

  Damon threw me a quick, surprised look. Again, it wasn't an act. "Adeipho does not take orders from anyone."

  "Well, yeah, he does. If that guy hadn't stepped in, Adeipho would have done me with the sword."

  "Who was this person?"

  "Adeipho said his name is Ree."

  Damon's face went blank. Then he smiled, and laughed. "Ree! Of course!"

  "Who is he?" I asked.

  "Someone you must deal with in order to find the crucible," Damon replied. "I should have realized. Ree is protecting it, along with Adeipho and the other traitors. We are so close."

  "No, we're not," I said. "They were all over me the second I showed up. Adeipho wasn't the only one who had a black sword. Those guys are serious. When we escaped, they followed me into my own vision and attacked me."

  "You must have allowed it."

  "I didn't allow anything! There's something going on that doesn't fit the rules. If I go back, I'm done, so I'm not going back."