Black Fall

by D.J. Bodden

CHAPTER 15

  I can’t believe that worked, Jonas thought. He lifted the lid to the inner compartment. The bottom side bore the inscription, “We see through a glass, darkly,” which, knowing his dad, had to be some kind of inside joke. Inside the compartment, there was only one item, a half-inch thick leather-bound book, about the size of a composition notebook. Jonas recognized it as one of his father’s journals. He wanted to read it right then, but knew Linda would be back at any moment, so he lifted his coat, stuffed the journal into the back of his waistband, and closed the false bottom. Then, he put everything back in the box exactly as it had been.

  “Jonas! You should have told me you were coming; we could have done this in my office.” Marcus Fangston was leaning against the doorway, with a very nervous looking secretary behind him. “Did you find anything? Were you able to open it?” Fangston said, advancing into the room. Anger rolled off him like a heat wave, and Jonas smelled… sulfur.

  “You’re the demon,” Jonas blurted out. He didn’t have time to curse himself for speaking the thought out loud, because Fangston grabbed him, mentally, and shoved him back through his own barrier.

  ♟

  Jonas stumbled backward, but Sam caught him, lifting him to his feet. They were on the parapet of his walls and a strong, hot wind was blowing in from the edge of his consciousness. Jonas could see the glow of a massive fire on the horizon that filled the air with orange, red, and black smoke. The smell was overwhelming, and made him want to retch.

  “It’s brimstone,” Fangston said, looking out over the wall with his back to Jonas. Sam shouted an order, and several guardians rushed forward with weapons drawn. Fangston merely waved his hand and they died, burned to ash like paper in a bonfire. Jonas felt as if someone had just stabbed a needle into his brain, above his right eye. “We need to talk, Jonas. There isn’t much time.”

  “I don’t see that we have anything to talk about,” Jonas said, and tried to throw Fangston off the wall, like he’d thrown Phillip around. It didn’t work.

  Fangston raised a finger, then pointed at one of the six-foot-tall crenellations. Jonas was jerked from his feet and slammed into the wall. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be gentler, convince you to trust me, let you ask all of your angry little questions and say we’d save the world together. But, there’s no time for that. I’m your mother and father’s oldest friend—”

  “You’re a demon.”

  Fangston sighed. “No, I’m the idiot who thought I was strong enough to contain a demon within the walls of my mind. It was a mistake. Can we move past this?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Fangston sighed, waved a hand, and a tower exploded, raining dirt, stone, and timber all around it. Pain lanced through Jonas’ head again, stronger than before. “Couldn’t do that before I trapped the demon. Had to use tricks, like Viviane, only I wasn’t a puppeteer either,” he said, “but I couldn’t keep the damned thing contained, and it’s been fighting me for control ever since.”

  “So that’s it? You wanted more power? That’s why you betrayed my parents and attacked me?”

  Fangston turned to face him. He was wearing an old black raincoat that flapped a little in the hot breeze. He looked tired, his face gaunt and slightly sunken. “The world is bigger than you realize, Jonas. It’s not just about you, your parents, or even this city. Alice never understood that, either. It’s about human governments and corporations growing bigger and more demanding every decade, placing greater restrictions on us, requiring more agents for missions or experiments, making threats… they’re going to herd us into camps one day, or find a ‘cure’ to make everyone normal, like them, so they don’t feel threatened. Only we won’t go quietly, Jonas, I can promise you that. There would be war the likes of which they have never known.

  “To prevent that, there has to be a balance of power they understand. It isn’t enough that we keep the peace and protect them from demons, warlocks, and things like Doris that would ruin their tidy little lives. Appeasement doesn’t work on humans, Jonas, you need a stick big enough to keep them in line. No one else was willing to act, so I did. I’m not ashamed of that.” He shrugged. “As for your parents, I forbade Victor from investigating the Order, and I’ve tried to keep you and Alice out of it, too.”

  Jonas thought about it, trying to be objective. “You tried to stop me from training here, didn’t you?”

  “Yes! But then you blabbed about Madoc pointing the finger at me, and the demon wanted you close so it could watch you. You’re just like your father, down to his stubbornness and narrow definitions of right and wrong!”

  Even though he knew Fangston meant it as an insult, Jonas felt absurdly pleased. His hand closed on his father’s coin, and he rubbed it between his thumb and index finger.

  The wind carried an angry bellow over the parapet, and the horizon flashed with repeated lighting strikes.

  “It’s breaking loose,” Fangston said. “When you wake up, pretend I caught you before you opened the box, and leave as quickly as you can. Find Madoc. Take whatever you found to your mother and tell her what’s happened. If anyone can kick this thing out of me, it will be her.”

  “What about my father?”

  “Alive when I last saw him, but I don’t know what happened to him after that. I hide things from the demon, and the demon hides things from me.”

  My father’s alive, Jonas thought, then felt himself being hurled back out of his own head.

  ♟

  “Well, Jonas? Did you find anything in the box?” Fangston asked, probing his barrier.

  “No, sir.” Jonas said, truthfully. But he had found something in the compartment underneath it. His father had always said that an honest man never lied, and a wise man knew when to keep his mouth shut. “You came in before I could really look at everything. I thought one of these coins might trigger the slot at the bottom of the box, but they don’t fit.”

  Fangston frowned. “We’ve tried those, and the ones from your apartment, too. You didn’t find his special coin? The one he was always playing with?”

  Jonas looked at Fangston’s face. It was twitching, like he was trying to make two facial expressions at the same time. “The only thing I found in my father’s possessions that even came close, was a plain old quarter. The special coin must have been on him when he… died. You didn’t see it?”

  Fangston hesitated, then looked at Jonas like he was seeing him for the first time. “All we found were ashes, Jonas. Surely, you remember?”

  Jonas winced, the memory still as vivid as if it had just happened yesterday – standing in the shower, trying to wash the grit from him hands, face, and hair. “I remember, sir.” But it wasn’t him, he thought to himself, then said, “Well, I guess if you’ve already tried the other coins, I should be heading home.”

  “Yes, you do that. Oh, and Jonas… next time you have an idea of something new to try, wait for me. I might be able to help.”

  “I will, sir,” Jonas said. He walked out of the office, the journal pressed tightly against his back.

  ♟

  All the way home, Jonas kept thinking about how he was going to approach his mother. If I can just convince her that Dad is still alive, and all she needs to do is exorcise Fangston or whatever you do to get rid of a demon, it might be enough to snap her back to reality. Then maybe, just maybe, with Fangston back to normal and the journal safely in hand, they’d be able to find out where his father really was.

  “Mom?” Jonas said as he walked in the front door. He reached back and pulled the journal out of his waistband — he’d left it there during the walk home, in case the demon was having him watched. “I think I found –” He paused, seeing that Phillip had followed him inside.

  “Oh, hey Phillip… can you wait outside for a minute? I need to—”

  “Bert’s been here today,” Phillip said, pushing past Jonas. He touched a deep gouge in the wall, and added, “Practically sprayed the place.”

  Phillip walked
down the hallway, with Jonas close behind, and knocked on the door. “Mrs. Black?” When she didn’t answer, he ripped the handle out, and pushed the door open. “She’s not here,” he said. “No ash, no signs of a struggle. You think Bert could have forced her to leave?”

  Jonas weighed whether he should trust Phillip or not. He’s seen the journal, and I know about Kieran. He shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  “Then she followed him of her own free will or she’s using him as a puppet.” Phillip said, his huge hands clenched into fists. “Either way, they’re both gone.”

  ♟

  After an hour of studying the journal, Jonas slammed it shut in frustration. It was useless. All the entries were in some kind of code, or a language that Google knew absolutely nothing about. There were drawings of runes, some etched into objects, and others laid out in spirals and geometrical shapes. But Jonas had no context to place them in. There were also what looked like chemical formulas that popped up in the middle of paragraphs, but they didn’t match anything Jonas could find online either.

  Phillip had left to follow Bert’s trail. The apartment didn’t feel that different than it usually did. The rent, utilities, cable, and phone bills, were all paid automatically out of his parents’ account. He had no access to it, but it would keep functioning unless his mother canceled it. In the past, the automated flow of money seemed comforting. Now, he realized, it was almost terrifying. His mother didn’t have to come back. He could go on without her and be just fine. She didn’t have to feel guilty… if guilt was even an issue. For all Jonas knew, she thought her dream world with his dad was real and Jonas was, in fact, the illusion.

  She left me, he thought. She hadn’t called, left a note, or sent word. She’d just left, either following Bert or dragging him along with her. He’d spent the last year trying to keep it together for her, to do his duty as a son, and she’d just left. She hadn’t needed him at all. Why did I even bother? he thought, angry that his dad had raised him to believe it was his responsibility in the first place.

  He closed his eyes, fists clenched on his thighs, and took a deep breath. I did the right thing. It wasn’t wasted. He needed to hold onto that. His mother was grieving, angry, and vulnerable. He had to figure out where she’d gone.

  She’d left in broad daylight. How? Jonas wondered how long she’d stood outside, the day he found her scorched. Two minutes? An hour? How much exposure did she need to be able to tolerate to make her getaway? With Bert along, she could probably make the trip in a… The box! Before, when he’d found her catatonic in her room, there’d been a wooden crate at the foot of her bed. He quickly checked her room… gone. She’d obviously been planning her escape for days.

  At least she’d come through for him in one respect. He now had a mini-fridge in his bedroom, stocked with blood packs. Her fridge had been emptied. Guess she wanted snacks for the road, he thought. Maybe she was planning on being back by now, Jonas told himself. Not that he believed it. Most likely, the same people who took his dad took her as well. So if he found her, then maybe… One problem at a time, he thought.

  ♟

  He couldn’t talk to Amelia about what happened. He couldn’t talk to Eve, either. He needed to stick to his routine and stay away from the Agency during the week. Hopefully Fangston could keep his demon at bay. He wondered if the Director had known about the coin all along — if knowledge of it, and now the journal, were the last parts of his mind he’d been able to hang on to. After all, he’d said he was keeping secrets. Maybe that made him brave, but it still didn’t make up for letting the demon in and betraying Jonas’ father in the first place.

  Jonas sat on his bed and contemplated next steps. Phillip was still searching for Bert… or Alice, whoever turned up first. He recalled what the specter, Madoc, had said about not trusting the wolf. If only he’d been a little more specific, Jonas thought. For a moment, he considered going to Edwards for help, but he had a feeling the hunter would be less than discriminate about how he handled supernaturals, if he agreed to help at all. I’d better have a good, clearly defined target before I open that Pandora’s Box, Jonas thought.

  He took out the journal and thumbed through it again. This time, as he flicked through the pages, he noticed one was a little thicker and heavier than the others. He picked at it, and it finally came apart. Apparently, his father had dabbed a small amount of glue along the edge to keep them together. It was toward the end of the journal. The left page was blank, and the right page contained a small note, addressed to him in his father’s neat handwriting:

  Jonas,

  If you’re reading this, something’s happened to me. They probably haven’t killed me, because they need what’s in this journal. Make sure they don’t get it; my life depends on it.

  You remembered the coin I “gave” you when you were younger. I was hoping you would. By now, you’re probably going through some changes that might seem scary, and that’s okay. Believe me, I’ve been scared many times over the past 350 years. I wish I was there to help you, to teach you how to handle yourself, but it looks like you’re the one who’s going to be helping me. I’m very proud of you, son.

  Tell your mother I was investigating the Order of Shadows. She’ll laugh, but tell her I found proof. Tell her that Marcus did what we always cautioned him against, and she’ll know what to do.

  If for some reason your mother has disappeared too, find Madoc. You can trust him to do what’s in the Agency’s best interests. He stays on the move, but you can reach him in the center of the Whispering Gallery, at 4 p.m. every Friday, until I come home or they find me dead.

  Have faith, but make sure others earn your trust. If I’m dead, don’t blame yourself. I didn’t train you soon enough. Your mother and I wanted you to have as normal a childhood as we could provide, short of leaving you on someone else’s doorstep. It was sentimental and, perhaps, in retrospect, a little foolish, but we did it because we love you.

  If you’re owed any favors, or if you’ve made friends you can depend on, now would be the time to call them in.

  -Dad

  Jonas read the letter three times, to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. As tears streamed down his face, he smiled and thought… It’s going to be okay, Dad. I’m coming.

  ♟

  At 3:59 p.m., Jonas stood nervously in the center of the Whispering Gallery, with the Oyster Bar Restaurant at his back and one of the Grand Central information booths in front of him. Tourists stood in the corners of the space, seemingly talking to the wall, but Jonas knew that by a trick of the room’s acoustics, you could hear a word whispered in one corner from the opposite one. He’d even seen someone propose that way.

  The booth in front of him had a clock over it, and he watched as the minute hand clicked over to vertical. There was a gentle push on his barrier, and he allowed it in.

  ♟

  “Jonas Black?”

  “Yes. My father instructed me to meet you here.”

  They were in the gatehouse of Jonas’ barrier. Guardians looked down from the guardrooms on either side, and Sam stood slightly behind Jonas, a crossbow not-so-casually cocked and ready to fire. The specter floated a few inches off the ground.

  Jonas had imagined he would look cool and a little scary, like a translucent grim reaper with glowing eyes and a few chains that clinked when the wind blew. Instead, Madoc looked like a skinny accountant with gray skin and thinning hair. He wore wireframe glasses and a long, striped scarf that wrapped around his neck, and draped down over a battered sweater. He was clearly agitated, wringing his hands.

  “Does anyone know you’re meeting me here?” Madoc asked.

  “No,” Jonas answered. He watched as Madoc licked his lips and glanced anxiously at the closed door behind him. Then he looked over his shoulder at Sam and said, “Open it.”

  “You sure about that, sir? There was that time in the street, with Ms. Amelia, and—”

  “It’s okay, Sam. I don’t think he can do much harm
.”

  Sam scowled and made a hand gesture to one of the guards, causing Madoc to whimper and shrink back a little.

  “It’s okay, we’re just… he’s telling them to open the door,” Jonas said. “Why are you so jumpy?”

  Madoc’s voice was high-pitched and plaintive. “I’m fragile, in case you don’t know. Bad enough you almost shattered me that day in the street, gripping me like that.”

  “What? But all I did was—”

  “Shattered. Do you know how much time it took to piece myself back together after that? All because I trusted a vampire, and that cretin had a demon inside him! And now you tell me not to worry, while weapons are pointed at me, and wards are all over the city—”

  It was an avalanche of words. Jonas was able to catch more from the ones Madoc emphasized than the rapid-fire chatter in between.

  “—and you completely disregarded my warnings about Edwards, Fangston, and Macready. You practically gave the hunter a map of your head.”

  “Wait, Phillip? He’s the wolf I’m not supposed to trust?”

  “Not Phillip. The younger one, Bert. Waist deep in the Order of Shadows, that one. He stinks of betrayal, and you sit there bantering with him. Don’t you know he hates vampires? I blame his mother, really, but it’s all because of what happened to her father. And—”

  “Stop!” Jonas yelled, causing Madoc to flinch and dart back toward the door, where he cowered like a frightened dog with his hands clasped in front of his throat. “Please,” Jonas said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You’re talking so fast about so many different things, I don’t understand half of what you’re saying. Are you always like this? I thought specters were master communicators.”

  Madoc pressed his lips together, and raised a finger in what looked like the beginning of a scathing retort, but he must have heard something because he spun around and peered at the darkness outside. “Umm… could we… close those, actually?”

  Jonas looked at Sam and nodded. Sam rolled his eyes, but gestured at the guard and the doors began to swing shut. Madoc floated down to the ground and sat with his back to the wall, hugging his knees to his chest. “Thank goodness. I haven’t felt this safe in over a year. Could we go somewhere else? Anywhere is fine. I’ll just sit here, where your figments can see me. It’s just nice to not be so afraid for a change.”

  ♟

  Against Sam’s protests, Jonas agreed to carry the specter out of the terminal, inside his head. He was wary, though; Madoc seemed harmless enough, but Fangston had been on full alert and the demon had still taken control of him. At the slightest sign of trouble, he was prepared to jettison the specter from his mind. To tell the truth, considering how fragile Madoc seemed to be, and how jumpy Sam was about having a hitchhiker, the specter might have been safer outside anyway.

  What did you mean when you said you’d been shattered? Jonas asked, as he left the Gatehouse of his barrier and made his way through the terminal with the specter in tow.

  I meant shattered. Broken in pieces. Scattered to the winds, Madoc replied.

  Why are you still here, then?

  Specters are tied to the physical world by a phylactery — some blood, some hair, a magical focus. We’re fragile, but if something breaks us we just pop back up near our phylactery. As long as it’s intact, that is. We’re like a poor man’s Lich.

  What’s a Lich?

  Usually a dead wizard, sorcerer, or warlock. Big fans of robes, underground lairs… they’re very powerful. Doesn’t take long for that power to burn out their minds, though, and they turn nasty. Wasn’t for me.

  Jonas wrapped a scarf around his neck, as he walked up the marble slope and pushed his way through the crowd. It was always busy in front of Grand Central. Busses loaded and unloaded tourists, and people switched trains to go to Times Square or dallied in the bookstores and clothing shops, before continuing on their way. The floor below was a dining concourse, filled with every food imaginable, both prepared and unprepared. People were everywhere. It was a world unto itself, and behind the sound of conversations and heels on marble, Jonas picked up the hum of people’s thoughts, in every language imaginable. It was pleasant for a moment, like the babble of a stream, but it never stopped. He could see how public spaces would become unbearable to someone like Viviane.

  Once outside, Jonas took two lefts and headed uptown, bodyguards in tow. Phillip had sent two of his other sons, Ryan and Sean, to keep an eye on Jonas while he and the rest of his family combed the city for Bert and Alice. The new bodyguards were twins and wore identical clothing down to the color and brand of their shoes. Like Kieran, they weren’t as wide as Bert or their father, but they were adults, easily in their late twenties. They didn’t say much. But Phillip had said they were trustworthy, and Jonas took his word for it, although he missed the constant banter he’d had with Bert and Phillip.

  So what should I do now, Madoc?

  What do you mean, ‘do?’ You run. You put as many miles between you and the demon as you can, and you take me with you.

  Jonas frowned. That’s not what I meant. My mom is missing—

  They have her, Madoc said. She’s somewhere in the warded area, which means she’s probably in the catacombs, same place your father went before he disappeared.

  The traffic light was blinking red, so Jonas jogged across the street. What’s the warded area?

  Madoc sighed.

  Once on the sidewalk, Jonas took about three steps before smacking into an invisible wall. “Ouch!” he said, as he staggered back and fell. Ryan and Sean were immediately by his side, helping him up. One of the twins walked cautiously past the point where Jonas had struck the wall. He didn’t see or feel a thing, and looked around curiously. But when Jonas eased forward with an outstretched arm, to keep from hitting his head again, it was still there. Even when he put his entire weight against the wall, it wouldn’t budge an inch.

  That’s the warded area, Madoc said.

  Jonas almost dumped the specter from his mind, right then and there. But he remembered how frightened Madoc had been. How about warning me next time.

  Sorry. You’d have run into it halfway through the explanation, anyway.

  No, you could have just said stop, Jonas told him, reproachfully.

  Ah, yes. Tell you what to do. Because that’s been working so well for me. I believe I told you to leave town.

  Jonas stepped aside and rested against a building, realizing that if he kept leaning against the invisible wall, people were going to take him for a street performer. “I’ll be here for a few minutes,” he told Ryan, or Sean — whichever of the twins it was. He nodded, and then both of the werewolves walked nonchalantly to opposite street corners.

  Okay, Madoc, Jonas said, let’s get a few things straight. First of all, leaving is not an option. My mother’s missing, and I’m not going—

  Your mother’s in there, Madoc said, his tone getting louder with every word. She let herself be carried in like luggage, and now she’s there – along with the wolf, the demon, that half-lich zombie receptionist, and lots of other things I want nothing to do with. So just let me out. The only thing I wanted from there was my phylactery. Your father was supposed to get it, and—

  In where? Jonas interrupted, not wanting to go through another one of the specter’s long-winded tirades.

  The Agency. Everything’s inside the Agency.