The Complete Adversary Cycle: The Keep, the Tomb, the Touch, Reborn, Reprisal, Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack)
Page 188
Rasalom’s fingertips hovered a hairsbreadth from Glaeken’s unflinching skin.
“You’d welcome this, wouldn’t you?” Rasalom said. “Then it would be all over for you. But as much as I would love to reach inside you and rip out your spine one vertebra at a time, it’s not going to be that easy. No, Glaeken. I’m deferring that pleasure. I’m going to break you first. You’ve fought me for ages to protect this so-called civilization of yours, so I’m leaving you alive to watch how quickly it crumbles.” He held a balled fist before Glaeken’s eyes. “Your life’s work—millennia, Glaeken”—he flicked his fingers open and snatched his hand away —”gone! And you’re helpless to stop me. Helpless!”
“No,” Glaeken said, showing no sign of fear. “You are helpless. Because there’s still the Lady.”
Bill had no idea what he was talking about, but it seemed to infuriate Rasalom.
A tremor ran through the floor. He looked into Carol’s frightened, troubled eyes and knew she felt it too. The tremor graduated to a shudder. Outside he heard a roaring sound, in the skies, growing louder. Suddenly all the windows exploded inward. Bill dove for the floor, taking Carol with him as a million shards of glass knifed through the air.
From the floor where they huddled, Bill chanced a peek at the two men in the front room. They were barely visible through the tornado of debris that whirled around them. And then came another explosion, this one outward. It slammed Bill’s head against the floor, stunning him for an instant. He was aware of masonry cracking like rifle shots, of wall beams snapping like bones. And then the walls blew out.
When he lifted his head, Bill saw Glaeken and Rasalom standing as they were before. Rasalom turned and looked at Bill, and in that instant he saw what was to come, a world of eternal darkness, a nightmare existence devoid not only of love and compassion, but of logic and reason as well, a nightworld of the spirit.
Rasalom smiled and turned away. He made a mocking bow toward Glaeken, then strode toward the blown-out front wall.
“I’ll be back for you, Glaeken. When your precious civilization is dead and the remnants of humankind are little more than maggots feeding upon its putrescent corpse, I’ll be back to finish this. Once the Lady is gone, watch the skies. It will begin in the heavens.”
And then he disappeared into the rain.
Carol began to sob against Bill’s shoulder. He moved her away from the canted doorway to the ruined living room, away from the bodies of Renny and poor, twisted, tormented Lisl. As she huddled beside him, Carol looked up into his eyes.
“That’s not Jim’s son,” she said with a quaking voice. “That’s not my child.”
“I don’t think he ever was.” Bill held her close as he turned his attention to the old man who still hadn’t moved.
“Glaeken?” Bill said finally. “Is that what I should call you?”
“It will do,” the old man said. “No more need for me to hide.” He swung his cane angrily at the air. “What a fool! What a prideful idiot!”
“Who?” Bill said.
“Me! What was I thinking? I never should have come! Now he knows the truth. He thought he had to worry about me and the Lady. Now he knows it’s only the Lady!”
“Who is the Lady?”
“Someone we must protect at all costs—now, more than ever. I will explain on the way home.”
“But he said ‘she’ll be gone by morning.’ What—?”
Glaeken’s expression was bleak. “She might well be.”
“And if she is? Can he do what he says?”
“Oh, yes.” Glaeken’s blue eyes locked with Bill’s. “From the start he has sought to claim our world for the power he serves, to make it a fit place for the Otherness. So many of you these days think of this world as a terrible, violent place, but it is better now than it has ever been—believe me, I’ve seen the changes. But still more than enough hatred, bitterness, malice, violence, viciousness, brutality, and everyday cruelty exist behind our closed doors to make Rasalom strong enough to convert this world into a place suitable to his sponsor’s needs. He will provide a fertile environment in which to germinate the seeds of evil in all of us. Love, trust, brotherhood, decency, logic, reason—he will sap them from humanity until we are all reduced to tiny islands of wailing despair.”
“But how? Maybe he can cave in these walls, but that doesn’t mean he can wave his hand and turn us all into beasts. We’re tougher than that.”
“Don’t count on it. He will start with fear, his favorite weapon. It brings out the best in some, but in most by far it brings out the worst. War, hate, jealousy, racism—what are they but manifestations of fear?”
Carol lifted her head from Bill’s shoulder.
“And nothing can stop him? You stopped him before. Can’t you—?”
“I’m not quite the same as the last time the Adversary and I met,” Glaeken said with a sad smile. “The Ally is barely involved of late, and it becomes less involved every day.”
“Then there’s no hope?” Bill said.
He’d already been down where there was no hope. He didn’t want to go back there again.
“I didn’t say that.” Glaeken’s blue eyes focused on Bill again. “As long as the Lady survives, there is hope. But she will need help—my help and yours. I think it would be quite fitting if you joined me. And you, Mrs. Treece? May I call on you both should I need you?”
Carol seemed to be in shock, but she managed a nod. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Excellent. I have a few other recruits waiting at home.” Glaeken turned toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
“What about … them?” Bill said, glancing toward the bedroom door.
“We’ll have to leave them.”
Lisl … Renny … lying there like slaughtered cattle.
“They deserve better than that.”
“I don’t disagree, but we can’t afford to become involved with the police who are undoubtedly on their way as we speak. They’ll detain us, perhaps even jail us, and we haven’t a moment to lose.”
Reluctantly, Bill was forced to accept the old man’s logic. He and Carol followed Glaeken outside into the rain. Shivering with the chill of it, he glanced up at the low, gray lid of clouds pressing down on them.
In the heavens … Rasalom had said it would begin in the heavens. What would happen up there? He had a feeling that looking up would become a reflex in the weeks to come if something happened to this “lady” he spoke about?
“But what can we do against a power like his?”
“There is someone up north. I’ve been holding him back. I believe the time has come to release the reins.” The old man’s eyes narrowed with anger as he tapped the tip of his cane on the pavement. “’Helpless,’” Glaeken said in a low voice, his blue eyes blazing for an instant. “No one has ever called me that. We shall see how helpless I am.”
THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE WORLD
The preponderance of my work deals with a history of the world that remains undiscovered, unexplored, and unknown to most of humanity. Some of this secret history has been revealed in the Adversary Cycle, some in the Repairman Jack novels, and bits and pieces in other, seemingly unconnected works. Taken together, even these millions of words barely scratch the surface of what has been going on behind the scenes, hidden from the workaday world. I’ve listed these works below in the chronological order in which the events in them occur.
Note: “Year Zero” is the end of civilization as we know it; “Year Zero Minus One” is the year preceding it, etc.
The Past
“Demonsong” (prehistory)
“Aryans and Absinthe”** (1923-1924)
Black Wind (1926-1945)
The Keep (1941)
Reborn (February-March 1968)
“Dat Tay Vao”*** (March 1968)
Jack: Secret Histories (1983)
Jack: Secret Circles (1983)
Jack: Secret Vengeance (1983)
Year Zero Minus Three
&nbs
p; Sibs (February)
“Faces”* (early summer)
The Tomb (summer)
“The Barrens”* (ends in September)
“A Day in the Life”* (October)
“The Long Way Home”
Legacies (December)
Year Zero Minus Two
“Interlude at Duane’s”** (April)
Conspiracies (April) (includes “Home Repairs”)
All the Rage (May) (includes “The Last Rakosh”)
Hosts (June)
The Haunted Air (August)
Gateways (September)
Crisscross (November)
Infernal (December)
Year Zero Minus One
Harbingers (January)
Bloodline (April)
By the Sword (May)
Ground Zero (July)
The Touch (ends in August)
The Peabody-Ozymandias Traveling Circus & Oddity Emporium (ends in September)
“Tenants”*
Year Zero
“Pelts”*
Reprisal (ends in February)
Fatal Error (February) (includes “The Wringer”)
The Dark at the End (March)
Nightworld (May)
The Secret History will end with the publication of a heavily revised Nightworld in 2012.
*available in The Barrens and Others
**available in Aftershock & Others
***available in the 2009 reissue of The Touch
ALSO BY F. PAUL WILSON
Novels of the Secret History**
Black Wind
The Keep
Reborn
Jack: Secret Histories*
Jack: Secret Circles*
Jack: Secret Vengeance*
Sibs
The Tomb*
Legacies*
Conspiracies*
All the Rage*
Hosts*
The Haunted Air*
Gateways*
Crisscross*
Infernal*
Harbingers*
Bloodline*
By the Sword*
Ground Zero*
The Touch
The Peabody-Ozymandias Traveling Circus & Oddity Emporium
Fatal Error*
The Dark at the End*
Nightworld*
Other Novels
Healer
Wheels Within Wheels
An Enemy of the State
Dydeetown World
The Tery
The Select
Virgin
Implant
Deep as the Marrow
Mirage (with Matthew J. Costello)
Nightkill (with Steven Spruill)
Masque (with Matthew J. Costello)
The Christmas Thingy
Sims
The Fifth Harmonic
Midnight Mass
Short Fiction
Soft and Others
The Barrens and Others**
Aftershock & Others**
Quick Fixes*
Editor
Freak Show
Diagnosis:Terminal
*Repairman Jack
**See “The Secret History of the World“.
PRAISE FOR THE ADVERSARY CYCLE
The Tomb
“A riveting combination of detective story and horror fiction … This thriller is fast-action fun!”
—Publishers Weekly
“The Tomb is one of the best all-out adventure stories I’ve read in years.”
—Stephen King
“F. Paul Wilson weaves spells with words.”
—Dean Koontz
“F. Paul Wilson’s Repairman Jack is a cultural icon. If you haven’t crossed paths with him, you’re out of the loop. Get with the program.”
—David Morrell, creator of Rambo
The Touch
“A superior supernatural excursion from the author of The Keep and The Tomb … Hair-raisingly plausible ideas, winningly developed, set in a well-paced, gripping narrative.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“[Not] a horror novel in the usual sense, and variations on this idea have been used before, but rarely with the skill and entertainment value of this fine novel.”
—San Francisco Chronicle
Reborn
“[Reborn has] a brilliantly ghoulish finale.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Fast-paced, violent, provocative.”
—Publishers Weekly
Reprisal
“First-class … Wilson’s most gripping yet, with his strongest characterizations.”
—Kirkus Reviews
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
REPRISAL
Copyright (c) 2005, 2011 by F. Paul Wilson
This revised edition was previously published in 2005 by Borderlands Press.
All rights reserved.
A Tor(r) eBook
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor(r) is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wilson, F. Paul (Francis Paul)
Reprisal / F. Paul Wilson.—1st Tor ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7653-2166-4
1. North Carolina—Fiction. 2. College stories. I. Title.
PS3573.I45695R46 2011
813’.54—dc22
2011024287
First Tor Edition: December 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-9492-7
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to the usual crew for their efforts: my wife, Mary; my editor, David Hartwell; Steven Spruill; Elizabeth Monteleone; Blake Dollens; Alex Cameron; and my agent, Albert Zuckerman. And as always, special thanks to Becky Maines.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Nightworld ends the Secret History.
The novel picks up a couple of months after the horrors of The Dark at the End. I hope you’ve read the rest of the Adversary Cycle by now. The two story tracks—Jack’s tale and the Cycle—have merged and this is the grand finale. (See “The Secret History of the World” at the end of this book for how everything fits together.)
I have extensively revised Nightworld since its initial publication in the early ’90s. Jack’s role has been expanded—he is now a major player—but he remains one of many. Characters who didn’t exist when I wrote the original must be dealt with. Nightworld is an ensemble novel with characters drawn from across the Secret History. It ends both narrative tracks, as well as the Secret History itself. More stories remain to be told, but the timeline stops there. I will set no stories after Nightworld.
However …
In response to pleas (and occasional threats) from readers (you know who you are), I’ve agreed to write three more Repairman Jack novels from the period between his arrival in NYC and The Tomb, just to fill in those gaps. They’ll trace how he comes to know Abe and Julio, and how he becomes the guy you meet in The Tomb. After those books, it is over. You will then know all I know about Jack and I’ll have nothing left to say. I need to move on.
—F. Paul Wilson
the Jersey Shore
CONTENTS
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Rasalom went …
Part I: Sunset
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Sunday
Part II: Twilight
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Part III: Night
End Play
Part IV: Dawn
Friday
The Secret History of the World
Also by F. Paul Wilson
Copyright
R
asalom went to the mountain.
Rasalom is not his birth name, not the one his mother bestowed on him. He discarded that back in the First Age when the Otherness held more sway in this sphere. When he tapped into that mother lode of power and strangeness he took on a new name, a True Name he had protected like a wolverine guarding her young. But the time for secrecy is past. He can now shout his True Name anywhere on the planet and it will not matter.
From here atop Minya Konka, through a break in the clouds, much of what is now called China spreads out four and a half miles below him in the darkness. His birthplace is not far from here. It is bitterly cold on the mountaintop. Gale-force winds shriek and howl as they swirl the frozen air about his naked body. Rasalom scarcely notices. The power within protects him, fed by the delicious woes of the world below.
The horizon brightens. Dawn does not break at this altitude—it shatters. Rasalom stares at the glint of fire sliding into view and focuses the power he has been storing since his most recent rebirth. Eons of frustration fall away as he finalizes the process to which he has devoted the ages of his existence. No gestures, no incantations, just elseness, otherness, vomiting out of him, spreading out and up and around, seeping into the planet’s crust, billowing into its atmosphere, saturating this locus in the multiverse.
Soon all shall be his. No one and nothing opposes him, no power on earth or elsewhere can stop him.
He drops to his knees, not in prayer but in relief, elation.
At last, after so many ages, it has begun.
Dawn will never be the same.
PART ONE
SUNSET
WEDNESDAY
Nicholas Quinn, Ph.D.
Manhattan
On May 17, the sun rose late.
Nick Quinn heard the first vague rumors of a delayed sunrise while filling his coffee mug from the urn in the lounge of Columbia University’s physics department. He didn’t pay them much mind. A screwed-up calculation, a missed observation, a malfunctioning clock. Human error. Had to be. Old Sol never missed appointments. It simply didn’t happen.