The Ehrich Weisz Chronicles: Demon Gate

by Marty Chan

  “We’ll start with a little test,” Mr. Serenity said as he placed a glass globe over Ehrich’s head and attached wires to his forehead. “My world’s musicologists learned certain combinations of notes can open neural pathways. All you have to do is play the right ones.”

  He pressed his fingers on the keys, and the black shade on the cabinet began to revolve as the light within came to life. A tuneless melody filled the room.

  “Your mother’s hair was long and purple,” Mr. Serenity said.

  “What?”

  He repeated the statement.

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  Ehrich tried to picture his mother, and an image of a blue jay appeared on the wall. This was the bird that perched on the window outside his dormitory bed on Devil’s Island. The one he fed crumbs to every morning.

  “This is not a good sign, Amina. The music usually conjures images of loved ones.”

  She turned to Ehrich. “The story you told me about stealing the pie. Concentrate on this memory.”

  He took a deep breath. Mr. Serenity played again.

  The image of Dash appeared; he sat at the kitchen table with crumbs all over his lips. He denied eating the pie to their mother. This was not the hardened Dash doppelganger Ehrich saw amid the exoskeleton machines, but the doting brother who adored Ehrich so much he imitated his every gesture. On the wall, ahead of him, the projection of his memory appeared. The image switched to another memory; now, his brother balanced on the makeshift high wire between two trees. Ehrich stiffened as Dash fell on the ground. He closed his eyes, and the image shattered like a broken mirror into shards of other memories.

  “Remember the apple pie,” Amina said.

  Mr. Serenity played another series of notes. A new set of images flashed on the wall. Dash donning a new cap in the apartment belonging to his parents. His father scolding Ehrich. A disappearing handkerchief. A marble inside a chalk circle.

  “Now focus on the medallion. Did you ever see Dash with it?” Amina’s voice cut through the fog of images like the blast of a lighthouse horn.

  “The medallion?”

  “Yes. The one with the chimera.”

  “I like ice cream.”

  Mr. Serenity’s voice drifted on the edges. “His mind is starting to fragment, Amina. We can’t continue.”

  “Ehrich, listen to the sound of my voice. Do you remember the medallion that your brother wore?”

  “I’m trying.”

  Mr. Serenity handed Amina the medallion. “Sense memory may help.”

  “Hold this, Ehrich.” She pressed the medallion into his right hand. The images on the wall exploded into slashes of multi-coloured light. A thousand voices shouted in his mind. The images splintered into scenes of green-skinned Dimensionals falling before giant iron exoskeleton machines. Then an ocean world where gilled women gasped on a beach. They made no sense to Ehrich at all.

  “Ehrich, focus on the pie. Your brother is eating the apple pie.”

  He tried to focus on the memory of sharing the pie with his brother, shutting out the alien images fighting for space in his memory. On the wall, the images finally coalesced into a cemetery. Was it the one on Devil’s Island? No, it sharpened into the country graveyard where Ehrich had last seen his brother. Dash flicked on the device that opened the gateway into New York. He turned to face Ehrich but in this image, his eyes were dark and menacing.

  Mr. Serenity gasped. “He’s a Dimensional.”

  “What?” Amina asked.

  “Look. That’s a portal,” he said.

  A flurry of images followed. The portal, alien landscapes, his brother, the fight. The medallion slipping out of Dash’s shirt and into Ehrich’s hand. For an instant, a different face superimposed itself over Dash’s cherubic face. The ethereal face belonged to a man with deep-set eyes and a crooked mouth. His eyes were cold and black as he stared ahead.

  Then the image switched to the fight in the Bowery. Dash rushed into the crowd and staggered back with a knife in his belly. The images on the wall disintegrated into tiny points of light. Ehrich’s body arched as he screamed.

  Mr. Serenity tore the electrodes from Ehrich’s head. “Look at me. Concentrate on my face. Shut everything else out. Breathe and keep your eyes on me.”

  Finally, his vision settled and he could focus on reality once more. Mr. Serenity unstrapped the restraints.

  Amina asked, “Why didn’t you tell us the truth?”

  Ehrich opened his mouth to answer, but he vomited instead. He tried to stand up, but everything seemed to be spinning. All he could see was the floor rushing up to meet his face; then nothing but darkness.

  j

  When Ehrich awoke, he had no idea of how much time had passed. He rested on a divan in Mr. Serenity’s study. He stared up at the constellation map on the ceiling and for a second he thought he was under the night sky. The clattering sound of a cup of tea beside him broke through his reverie, an offer from Amina.

  “Feeling better, Ehrich?” she asked.

  “Dizzy. Headache. Oh.”

  “Sorry,” Mr. Serenity said. “The pain will go away eventually.”

  Amina crossed her arms. “You should have told us the truth. Were you ashamed?”

  “I didn’t know how.”

  Mr. Serenity patted Ehrich’s hand. “Or maybe she didn’t ask nicely.”

  Amina sniffed indignantly and walked away.

  Ehrich propped himself up with a shoulder. “Did it work? What did you find out?”

  “I think I know what the medallion is,” Mr. Serenity said.

  Ehrich asked, “What?”

  “If what we saw on the hypermnesium is accurate, this is the Infinity Coil.”

  “I don’t know what that is. What does it mean?” Ehrich asked.

  “It means your brother is here,” he answered, tapping the medallion.

  “Impossible,” Amina said. “That’s only in legend.”

  “And like long-lasting legends, the story is likely based in some truth,” Mr. Serenity proposed.

  “Someone want to tell me what this is?” Ehrich asked.

  Mr. Serenity motioned Amina to sit. “This is a piece of technology from the Fallen Age, when our scientists pursued knowledge without a thought to consequences or conscience. They created weapons of mass destruction. They experimented with the genetic code of humanity. They explored the fabric of existence. It was rumoured that the sum total of all their knowledge led to the invention of this device, the Infinity Coil.”

  Ehrich raised an eyebrow. “In English, please.”

  “Imagine a soul catcher which allows the user to replace the essence of a person with his own.”

  “You mean so they can take control of a person’s body?”

  Mr. Serenity nodded. “Not just the body, but the memories and personality.”

  Amina shifted in her seat. “According to legend, an assassin used the coil to jump from one body to another in order to carry out political murders.”

  “They called him Kifo, but no one knows his true name or his original form,” Mr. Serenity added.

  “My grandmother used to tell this story to scare us when we were little. How can this be true? He would have to be ancient by now,” Amina said.

  “This is why the Infinity Coil is so dangerous. The user can be immortal as long as he captures souls and uses their bodies. Ehrich, I believe Kifo has taken your brother’s essence and assumed his body as his own.”

  “All those times I heard his voice, I thought they were my memories taunting me.”

  Amina’s eyes widened. “You can hear your brother?”

  Ehrich nodded. “What does it mean? Does it mean he’s alive?”

  “I can’t be sure about this,” Mr. Serenity said. “I think he’s alive in a manner of speaking. His body is here on this plane, but the essence which makes him your brother is somewhere inside the Infinity Coil. Who knows how many other souls are trapped in here?”

  “Then get him out!” For the f
irst time, Ehrich felt more than just dread when he thought of his brother. He felt hope. He could save Dash.

  “I don’t know how,” Mr. Serenity said. “The secrets of this technology died with the fallen. The only way to rescue your brother is to convince Kifo to give up the body.”

  Ehrich didn’t know how he would do this, but he knew that he had to try. He had a new purpose in his life, and, this time, he would not fail his brother.

  Catching the Train

  Margaret had never wanted to be a hunter. She would have been happy as a sentry or a processing agent, even a gravedigger, but thanks to her excellent marksmanship scores, she found herself on Charlie’s squad. She didn’t mind the cold nights or the long hours. What the girl hated about the job was the risk. She had already lost Louis to a Dimensional. Now Charlie was fighting for his life in the infirmary because of the traitor, Ehrich Weisz, who seemed to be in league with other Dimensionals. Two years on the squad had made her sick to death of demons. Their filthy bodies had created a permanent reek on Devil’s Island. The smell reminded her of the rotting potatoes she’d forced herself to eat when she used to live on the streets.

  In the heat of an unseasonably warm autumn afternoon, she detected that scent now. She raised her teslatron rifle at the couple jogging under the Ninth Avenue railroad line. One was the dark-skinned fugitive Commander Farrier had described to the hunters. She wore a pair of magenta goggles over her eyes, an ill-fitting disguise. The figure beside her had his back to Margaret.

  “Don’t move!” she shouted.

  The fugitive’s companion spun around—Ehrich Weisz. He grabbed Amina’s hand and bolted down the street. Margaret hadn’t fully believed Farrier’s claim that Ehrich had betrayed Demon Watch, but seeing him run with the fugitive, Margaret now knew he had betrayed his own race. She pressed her cheek against the teslatron rifle as her trigger finger twitched. A horse and carriage rolled through her sightline and she lowered her weapon.

  “Amina, keep running!” Ehrich yelled at his bespectacled companion.

  They hurried down the street, dodging horse-drawn trolleys and skirting past the pushcart merchants. Ehrich had to vault over a stack of newspapers belonging to one of the newsies on the corner.

  A bolt of energy exploded the wall to the right. Ehrich ducked instinctively as he followed Amina through the crowd of screaming nighthawks. They sprinted toward the stairwell, taking two steps at a time until they hit the top.

  Margaret waved at Gino and Wilhelm down the street and shouted, “I have the fugitive! Over here! Train platform!”

  Ehrich kicked a trashcan down the stairs. This bought them a few seconds at best. Amina scanned the empty platform with her magenta goggles.

  “I remember they ran along the tracks,” Ehrich said.

  “Which direction?”

  “That way.”

  Amina jumped on the tracks and ran north. Ehrich heard a shout and turned. Margaret, Gino, and Wilhelm arrived at the platform. He sprinted after Amina. A shrill whistle blasted the air as a train rounded a corner and rolled straight at the pair.

  “Which track were they on?” she yelled as she sprinted along the railroad tracks.

  “The one with the train coming at us.”

  Amina grabbed Ehrich’s hand and hauled him toward the oncoming train. He tried to shake himself free, but her grip was too strong. A bolt of energy singed the track to the right. Wilhelm had taken a sniper position on the platform to fire on them. The train whistle blasted again.

  “I see it!” Amina yelled.

  “See what?!” Ehrich shouted.

  The engine chugged toward them, the wheels screeching as the brakes engaged, but there was no way the train would stop in time. Just as Ehrich was about to give himself up for dead, he suddenly felt the tracks give way underneath his feet. All he could feel was Amina’s hand grasping his wrist. He floated, untethered from the earth, free from gravity. He saw nothing but an inky void with no end. Just as he was getting used to the weightless feeling, gravity returned with a vengeance and his body plummeted downwards. Light blinded him and pain shot through his legs.

  He landed unceremoniously on a smooth jade floor, sprawled out on his back. Amina rolled up, slipping the purple goggles off her head. Red pillars circled a large chamber. Silk sheers festooned floral print walls. At one end of the room, on a raised marble platform, was a canopy bed with mahogany posts and sheer netting. Emerald, bell-shaped lanterns hung from the pillars, bathing the chamber in a soft, green glow.

  “Where are we? What happened to the train?” Ehrich asked, completely confused. Had they passed through a portal?

  “It’s a fold in space,” Amina answered.

  “What?”

  “It’s hard to explain. A dimension can be like a shirt. When portals open up, they push the space over, creating folds.”

  “So it’s a portal?”

  “No. You can’t go through them, but you can go in them and hide from prying eyes. The fold existed in between the tracks of this railroad line. The opening was probably the width of one of the wooden ties across the track.”

  Ehrich remembered Robert Houdin’s memoir and a reference to the Enchanted Portfolio, a thin folder meant only to hold large photographs or artwork. Yet, from the apparatus, the French magician could produce bonnets, birds, and even a boy. The trick was in masking the items’ true location and creating the illusion that they were contained in the thin portfolio. This fold in space was Robert Houdin’s trick on a grander scale.

  “How did you find the fold?” Ehrich asked.

  She twirled the goggles by the leather strap. “I had some vision enhancement, but you pointed me in the right direction. Otherwise, it would have been like looking for a strand of hair in tall grass.” She stood up and surveyed the room. Her eyes widened and she slowly raised her hands above her head.

  Ehrich cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

  Amina directed her gaze to the bed. Ehrich turned and saw the barrel of a telescoping derringer emerging through the netting. He raised his hands as well.

  A red hand parted the netting to reveal Ning Shu, the crimson-skinned girl from Amina’s Kinetoscopic Codex. She stepped off the bed and rose to her full height. Her powerful red leg poked through the slit in her form-fitting cheong sam. Scars from countless battles snaked up her bare leg. She held the derringer with a steady hand.

  “You’ve made a fatal mistake,” Ning Shu said.

  House of Qi

  Ehrich inched back until he was pressed against Amina. He tensed, ready to spring. Behind Ning Shu, a man groaned as he tried to sit up in the bed. He grabbed onto the bed’s post, which featured an ornate carving of a dragon spiralling to the canopy. A bandage was wrapped around his neck and his linen shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach, revealing brown stains of dried blood down his hairless chest.

  “Who are they, Ning Shu?” he asked.

  She flicked her braided queue over her shoulder. “I recognize this one, Hakeem. He’s the one who chased us.”

  “What are you doing here?” the man asked as he stood up.

  “Looking for you and her,” Amina said. “We were waiting for you at the Museum of Curiosities.”

  “I don’t know you,” Ning Shu said.

  “My name is Amina. Mr. Serenity sent me. He told me to thank the House of Qi for being a friend to our cause, and to say that your jade tael has an interesting motto.”

  “A friend of the House of Qi would know the motto. Tell me.”

  “Death before dishonour.”

  “Where is Mr. Serenity?” Ning Shu asked. “My deal was with him.”

  “We’ll escort you to him.”

  “Hakeem is in no condition to travel. Bring Mr. Serenity here.”

  “Whatever weapon you promised us, we need now. Ba Tian is here in this dimension.”

  “What? Not possible. My father has no interest in this dimension.”

  “Demon Gate,” Amina said. “A stable portal Ba
Tian can use to send his armies through. What weapon do you have against your father?”

  “Hakeem,” Ning Shu answered. “He was my father’s chief engineer. He designed the exoskeleton machines. He knows their weaknesses and can build you better ones—machines that can crush my father’s army. But not until you guarantee our safety.”

  “When we defeat the warlord, everyone will be safe.”

  “She’s right, Ning Shu,” Hakeem said. He buttoned his shirt and combed his hand through his thick mane of black hair. In Manhattan, he would have been easily mistaken as one of the Italians in the Bowery, with the exception of his pupils, which were silver. He tried to walk, but lacked the strength. Ning Shu gave him her arm to steady himself.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Amina asked.

  “Someone shot him. It was a small wound and I’ve stopped the bleeding, but he is weakening with every minute.”

  Hakeem said. “Every time I exert myself, I feel worse. I think I just need more time to rest.”

  Ning Shu gently pushed her companion to sit on the bed. He placed his hand on top of hers and gently squeezed it.

  “What was the weapon?” Amina asked.

  Ehrich answered, “A small dart—shot from a rooftop.”

  “We kept the dart,” Ning Shu said. She picked up the crossbow bolt from the rosewood night table. The projectile was barely longer than her index finger with a sharp needle and hollow cylinder. She handed it to Amina, who sniffed the tip. Her nose wrinkled at the acrid smell but she betrayed no emotion as she turned to Hakeem.

  “Have you been running a fever?” Amina asked.

  “His forehead burns like a furnace,” Ning Shu said.

  “Do you have cramps on your right side? Where your appendix is?” she asked as she indicated her abdomen.

  He nodded.

  “How often does the pain come?”

  “Whenever I exert myself. When the pain comes, it feels like I’m being stabbed. When I rest, the pain subsides. I need some rest, then I can meet with Mr. Serenity.”