The One made no reply. He remained silent as they entered the Midtown Tunnel. Ernst glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him staring out the window, his expression unreadable.
“Does that particular sigil have a special significance?”
His voice seemed to come from far away. “It belonged to me back in the First Age.”
Ernst stiffened in his seat. What a remarkable revelation. That explained the One’s interest in it when Ernst had mentioned it during his quizzing about Jack.
“If only we’d known, it would have been displayed all these centuries in a place of honor.”
“I am glad it wasn’t. I had thought it lost forever.” He seemed full of sudden determination as he leaned forward. “When we reach the city, turn downtown.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ernst knew better than to ask why. But then the One answered his question.
“I must feed.”
7
“‘It may never happen, Weez,’” she said, quoting. “‘This may all be wasted time and chatter.’”
Jack, behind the wheel, stared straight ahead and said nothing as they cruised north on the New Jersey Turnpike. She’d called shotgun for the trip home. She was too rattled about what lay ahead to concentrate on the Compendium.
She studied Jack. He’d been strangely silent since leaving the Lodge. Something was bothering him. Endangering the baby? She doubted it. That was her worry.
“But, since it is going to happen,” she added, “I guess it wasn’t just wasted chatter. Not that I have veto power.”
He glanced at her. “We all respect your feelings, Weez. There’s just…”
“… too much hanging in the balance,” she said. “I know that. I just…”
“… never believed the end justifies the means.”
Behind them, Eddie laughed. “Are you two going to spend the entire trip finishing each other’s sentences?”
They were, weren’t they. Once again she was filled with such a longing for Jack. What was it? He wasn’t handsome-not ugly, but a long way from a hot guy. He didn’t radiate alpha masculinity; it might be there, but he hid anything that might draw attention.
But he was Jack, and he couldn’t hide what he was from her. And she’d fallen for who he was.
They made a pretty good team too. Didn’t he see that? Well, maybe he did, but he didn’t feel about her the way she felt about him. Not even close. How could he? To him, they were simply… buds-close as could be, with a history that went way, way back, but she didn’t go beyond friend for him. He would never see her any other way, and that tore a hole in her heart.
After a couple of beats of awkward silence, Jack said, “In this case, I don’t think the means are so terrible. The baby won’t know he’s got an Other name.”
“I know. I’ve come to terms with it. The Lady won’t perform the ceremony on anyone else, so that’s the way it has to be.”
Eddie said, “Why not give him a plain old American name right after the ceremony. That way he’ll grow up answering to Tom or Dick or Harry or whatever.”
“Assuming he grows up,” Jack said.
Weezy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Assuming we have the right name, assuming the Compendium has the right ceremony, and assuming the ceremony will do what we hope it will, we all just might see the summer.”
The summer…
Jack was convinced-said he’d heard from multiple sources-that darkness waited in the spring. If Rasalom had his way, if they didn’t find a way to stop him, there’d be no summer.
“If just one of those assumptions is wrong,” he added, “then all this is for nothing.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic, but he seemed so negative lately.
“The Compendium hasn’t let us down yet.”
“But the name…”
Yes… the name. Everything hinged on the name belonging to Rasalom.
“We have to trust it’s his Other Name.”
“Trust? Trust whom? R?”
“Trust what we know about him from Glaeken-that he suffers from a monstrous case of hubris. The Seven served the Otherness, and one by one he eliminated them until only he remained. It fits perfectly with his personality that as he eliminated them he removed their Other names from his sigil-like crossing them off a list-until only his remained. And it makes sense that he kept that sigil as a souvenir of his triumph.”
Jack shook his head. “But does it make sense that he left it in Johnson, New Jersey, where we could find it? Seems just a little too convenient.”
“Now that you mention it,” Eddie said. “It seems a lot too convenient.”
“On the surface, yes, but ‘too convenient’ implies that someone put it there for us to find. Think about that. We first discovered that sigil when we were in our midteens. Rasalom was reborn just a few months before you. That means when you were fourteen, he was fourteen. Do you see him, at some time during his first fourteen years, hunting down his sigil, transporting it to Johnson, New Jersey, and somehow hiding it under the Lodge? And that’s a big ‘somehow’ because the sigil would never fit through that trapdoor we found back then. ‘Too convenient’ requires an awful lot of assumptions, don’t you think?”
Jack mulled that a moment, then gave a reluctant shrug. “Point taken. But I’m still uncomfortable with how convenient it turned out for us.”
Weezy understood. That skepticism made Jack Jack, one of the reasons he had survived so long doing what he did. She doubted she could make him comfortable, but maybe she could make him less uncomfortable.
“I don’t think he had anything to do with its presence in Johnson. But I’ll bet the Order did. What do we know about the sigil? It’s a relic of the First Age, which makes it about fifteen thousand years old. Because it’s made of the virtually indestructible tenathic, it survived the Great Cataclysm that ended the First Age. Because it’s a relic of that time, it was only natural that the Septimus Order-which adopted it as its seal-would have preserved it through the ages. Somehow it wound up in the Pine Barrens.”
“It’s that ‘somehow’ that bothers me. Even if it’s not ‘too convenient,’ it’s one helluva coincidence. And ‘no more coincidences,’ remember?”
“Well, we know from Glaeken that the Order settled in the Barrens and caged the last q’qr there-another leftover of the First Age. Is it such a stretch to believe that they’d bring along this ancient, damaged sigil too? Unless they’ve got some sort of Rosetta Stone, I’m sure they had no idea of the significance of the seven glyphs, or that it had once belonged to the One. But they kept it because it was an antique, a reminder of their salad days. It wound up in the town that was eventually buried, and they built the Lodge over it.”
Jack’s expression remained sour. “Just blocks from the home of the Heir.”
“No, you’ve got it backward, Jack. Rasalom’s sigil was brought to the Barrens long, long before you were born. Probably before the Pilgrims arrived. The sigil wasn’t moved near you-you came to it. Do you know why your folks settled in Johnson?”
He shook his head. “Never occurred to me to ask. My folks got married in the fifties, and moved to Johnson after Kate was born. I have no idea why they chose Johnson. I’m pretty sure it was my dad’s idea-he liked the idea of raising a family in a small town, away from all the crowding and problems of big-city life, and my mother tended to leave those decisions up to him. Wish he was alive so I could ask him.”
“Well, I can see only three possibilities: He was either drawn there, pushed there, or just happened to stop there.”
Jack grimaced. “I’ve been moved around the chessboard all my life. Maybe he was too.”
“So maybe it’s not a coincidence.”
“Maybe it’s not,” he muttered.
He still didn’t seem satisfied.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
Instead of answering, he pulled off the road into a service area and parked near the food court.
“We have to go back.�
��
“What?” Eddie said. “No way. We’re halfway home.”
Weezy was baffled. “Go back for what?”
“I need to see that sigil again.”
Eddie popped his seat belt loose and leaned forward. “But you won’t get to see it again. As it was, we were lucky we weren’t arrested for trespassing or breaking and entering. They’ll be watching for us. We got what we came for. If we go back to that Lodge again we’re sure to get arrested and that’s the last thing we need.”
For once she had to agree with her brother. As much as she hated to side against Jack…
“He’s right, Jack. Risking arrest only plays into Rasalom’s hands. We need to get this name to the Lady and put the Naming Ceremony behind us.”
“Okay, maybe three of us can’t go back, but one can.”
“How?” Eddie said.
“Where the hell are we?”
“Exit Seven-A is ahead,” Weezy said. “Route 195. Trenton, et cetera.”
“Good. Gotta be a car rental place there. I’ll rent something and drive back to Johnson while you continue on to the city.”
He put the car back in gear and started moving again.
She said, “I don’t get it, Jack. I just don’t get it. What do you hope to find?”
“Nothing. I hope everything is just what we think it is. But I…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Give me something. Please.”
“I just don’t like the way everything is falling together so neatly. It feels orchestrated.”
“Maybe it is orchestrated-but by the Ally.”
“Yeah, well, you know how much I trust the Ally.”
Weezy sighed. She had no comeback for that. She knew what the Ally had done to him. She didn’t trust it either.
But she trusted Jack.
8
Ernst checked his watch again. Hours now since he’d dropped off the One.
The One had offered no explanation, simply directed him to an address in the East Twenties and walked into a brick-front office building. A brass plaque was affixed to the wall to the left of the door, but in the fading light Ernst could not read it from the street.
I must feed…
What was he feeding on in there?
Ernst had driven around the block a number of times until a parking space opened with a view of the entrance. He’d left the car and walked over to view the plaque close up.
MRP RENEWALS.
He could find nothing else to give any hint as to what was being renewed, so he returned to the car and called the Order’s office in midtown. He asked the receptionist who answered to look up the organization.
After a short wait she said, “It appears to be a drug rehabilitation facility.”
Ernst stared at the entrance. What possible need could the One have for a place like that?
He watched a few people straggle in and out-none of them looked like the clientele one would expect at a rehab center. Finally the One appeared. He walked to the curb and stood. Ernst started the car and pulled in before him.
Ernst got a brief look at him while the courtesy light was on and was nearly as shocked at his appearance now as he had been this morning. The wounded, haggard, exhausted, depleted man who had exited the car was gone, replaced by someone who looked healthy and rested.
Still scarred, yes, and still missing his left hand, but the scars seemed less prominent, his complexion had improved, and he seemed to have-was it possible?-filled out.
“Sir, you look…” He searched for the right word.
“Renewed?”
Yes. Exactly.
“May I ask-?”
“Not your concern, Drexler. Your immediate concern lies in retrieving the item I entrusted to you for safekeeping before the Internet fiasco. I assume you still have it.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then proceed.”
Traffic was light and he made good time, pulling in front of his building fewer than fifteen minutes later.
“I will wait here.”
Ernst hurried up to his apartment but entered cautiously. What if Jack waited inside? Not an irrational fear-it wouldn’t be the first time. Ernst would have to choose sides right then and there: Tell Jack that his prey waited below, wounded and unsuspecting, or keep the One’s confidence.
But his fear proved unfounded. His apartment was empty and he removed the rectangular box from beneath his bed without incident.
Ernst returned to the car and opened the rear door to hand it to the One, who took it awkwardly with his remaining hand. Then Ernst slipped back behind the wheel.
“One more stop,” said the One.
Only one? And then what?
He gave Ernst an address in the West Eighties. Traffic was heavier there, and half an hour passed before he pulled in before a four-story brownstone. The One got out, carrying his package, and disappeared into the narrow alley running along the side.
What now? More renewal? How long would this take?
Not long at all. The One reappeared less than ten minutes later, still carrying that strange box under his arm. But instead of re-entering the car, he motioned Ernst to lower the window.
“You may go about your business. I have no further need of you tonight.”
That came as both a relief and a disappointment. The One’s presence was intensely discomfiting, but at least he knew where he was and what he was doing… although he had to confess he had no idea what the One had been up to since they’d arrived in Manhattan.
“But where are you going, where will you stay? You have no phone, no money. I will give you the use of my-”
“Not necessary. Events will reach a head in the next few hours or days or… they will not. If they go our way, phones and money will be irrelevant. If they do not, you will hear from me.”
With that he turned and began walking east. Where to? Central Park lay in that direction.
Ernst sat and watched him go, remembering his parting words.
If they go our way…
The One had said “ our way.” Did that mean that Ernst was back in the fold, that he’d be spared the tribulations of the Change? It certainly seemed so.
With a lightened heart, he put the car in gear and headed home.
Strange, how things worked. Had Ernst not sided with Jack last week, Szeto would still be alive. The One’s remarks this morning had made it clear that he’d called Szeto first and, were he alive, Szeto would be ferrying the One around today instead of Ernst.
Always trust your instincts, he reminded himself. And right now his instincts told him to stay as far as possible from Jack.
9
Jack slowed his southward progress on 206 as he neared the light at Quakerton Road. The sun had sunk a while ago and darkness had settled. Eddie’s BlackBerry had found an Enterprise car rental place but it had taken forever to reach it and do the paperwork. Jack figured he’d probably ruined John Tyleski’s credit by abandoning his last rental on the South Fork, so he’d used a new credit card identity to rent a Pontiac G6. Not much of a car, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It meant no one would pay much attention to it.
He let Eddie and Weezy keep the Crown Vic.
Was he doing the right thing, leaving Weezy and Eddie to go on alone? He wasn’t comfortable with that but…
He shook his head. Maybe it was just him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something… something that had to do with that sigil.
As he turned onto Quakerton he saw a pickup pull out onto 206 and head north. Looked familiar. That guy Tommy? What had he come back for? Something big, covered by a drape, sat on the bed of his truck. Most likely some of his equipment, but Jack had a feeling Enough with these damn feelings. Feelings-feelings-feelings. What the hell? They were driving him crazy. He needed facts, damn it.
He reached the Lodge, a pale blob against the darker trees behind it, and not a single light on inside. He parked a block down on the street and walked back. O
ld Town had fewer streetlights than the newer sections on the other side of the lake, and that was a good thing tonight. He’d taken his lock-pick set and bump keys from the Crown Vic and carried them now, along with a flashlight, plus one of Weezy’s Sharpies and a pad, all in a small backpack slung over a shoulder.
He went straight to the back door. He’d noted the brand of the door lock before, so he had his Quickset bumps ready. The third one fit and in seconds he was in. Turning on his flashlight for only a second at a time for guidance, he found the basement door… leaning against a wall. The black rectangle of the doorway gaped before him.
His gut twisted. Not good.
Discarding all discretion, he turned on the basement lights and pelted down the stairs. The basement looked different, rearranged since they’d left. He fairly ran to the opening in the floor. The ladder had been pulled out and lay beside it. He lowered it back into the hole and descended.
No sign of the sigil.
Shit.
Heart pounding, Jack raced back up the ladder. The sigil was too big to hide, so the only explanation was they’d removed it. That guy Tommy had been leaving Johnson. Had he had the sigil in the back of his truck?
What was his phone number? Weezy had rattled it off. She’d know. But as he pulled out his phone to call her, he heard her voice in his head reciting the number. Instead of speed-dialing her, he punched in that number. After two rings he reached the voice mail:
“You’ve reached Thomas Mulliner Excavating and Land Clearing Service. Leave a number and we’ll call you back as soon as possible.”
Got him. Jack left his cell number, said he had to speak to him
ASAP.
So, Tommy was one of the Mulliner clan. The Pinelands were full of them, going back to revolutionary times. Jack wasn’t going to sit around waiting for a call back that might not come till morning. He had to find a Mulliner with an excavating business.
He punched in 4-1-1.
10
The Dark at the End rj-15 Page 31
