Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood

by D. J. MacHale

  Reality had returned, quickly. Sydney nodded sadly and put her head on his shoulder. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

  Marsh wasn't used to getting around in the city, so when they arrived at Grand Central Terminal (the real one, not Ree's vision in the Black), Sydney took charge and found them a cab. It wasn't difficult. Sydney was hard to miss in her jean shorts, and a cab nearly caused a huge accident by careening across three lanes of traffic on Lexington Avenue to get to her. Sydney and Marsh hopped in with a cabbie who didn't try to hide his disappointment when he realized that Sydney was with a guy.

  "Where to?" he asked dourly.

  "You know McSorley's?" Marsh asked.

  "Doesn't everybody?" was the cabbie's sharp reply.

  "Then let's go," Marsh commanded.

  Marsh wasn't sure of Ennis's exact address. He'd been there several times with his mother but she had always led the way. He only knew it was near a place that was considered the oldest saloon in New York City. McSorley's Old Ale House.

  Sydney watched Marsh as he stared out the window. Though she felt he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, she also wanted to help.

  "What do you think he'll say?" she finally asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

  Marsh didn't answer right away. Sydney wasn't sure if he was ignoring her or thinking about his answer.

  "Marsh?"

  "I don't know," he finally said, keeping his gaze out the window. "Hopefully he's got another piece of the puzzle."

  "But you've already talked to him about the crucibles. What makes you think he'll tell you any more now than he did before?"

  Marsh snapped a look to Sydney. His steely gaze surprised her.

  "I don't know," he said curtly. "If I could think of something better to do, I would do it."

  Marsh's harsh answer surprised Sydney. She didn't take attitude from anybody, and her first instinct was to fire back at him. Instead she took a breath and let it go, telling herself that it was the stress talking.

  They didn't speak again until the cab stopped in front of the old tavern. Marsh paid the cabbie and got out. He knew exactly where he was going. Sydney followed, walking east. The tension in his body seemed to grow with each step. Sydney saw that he was clenching his fists. She chose not to ask him about it.

  They finally came to a ten-story brick apartment building. Marsh stopped in front and looked up to the highest floors.

  "This is it," he said to nobody in particular.

  He climbed the few steps of the stoop to the front door and entered the vestibule. Sydney followed without question and watched as Marsh scanned the rows of buttons on the ancient security panel. Each had a name penciled in next to the number of the apartment. Marsh scanned the list until he found the name Mobley.

  "10H," Sydney said, reading. "Top floor, of course. The elevator better work."

  Marsh pressed the button on the call panel. They waited. No answer. Marsh pressed it again, harder.

  "He could be off on an assignment," Sydney offered. Marsh was about to press the button a third time when an elderly woman came out of the door that led to the lobby.

  Sydney grabbed the door before it swung closed and gave the old lady a disarming smile.

  "Forgot our keys again," she said sweetly.

  "Welcome to my life," the old woman growled, and continued on out to the street.

  Sydney winked at Marsh and the two went inside. To Sydney's relief the elevator worked.

  "You okay?" she asked as they slowly rose in the creaky old lift.

  He nodded.

  Sydney didn't believe him.

  They got out on the tenth floor, where Marsh led them down the narrow corridor to the door marked 10H.

  "Smells like boiled cabbage," Sydney said, wrinkling her nose.

  Marsh pressed the doorbell and waited. "Ennis?" he called. No response.

  "He's probably not here," Sydney offered.

  Marsh dug out his cell phone. He punched in a number, and a moment later they heard the electronic chime of a ringing phone coming from inside Ennis's apartment.

  Marsh looked to Sydney and smiled with satisfaction.

  "If his cell's here, he's here."

  For a brief moment Sydney saw the old Marsh, who was tickled at his ability to be an ingenious sleuth. He knocked on the door again.

  "Ennis? It's Marsh. I've been trying to get hold of you for days."

  Still no answer.

  "Suppose something's happened to him," Sydney said soberly. "I mean, what if he's in there but . . ."

  She didn't finish the thought as Marsh pounded on the door in frustration. "C'mon, Ennis! It's me!"

  He was about to try and force the door open, when he stopped suddenly and put his ear to it.

  "What?" Sydney asked, confused.

  "I heard something. Somebody's in there," he replied, then shouted, "Ennis?"

  They heard a whisper that was barely loud enough to reach through the door.

  "Marshmallow?"

  The voice was faint, but unmistakable.

  "Yes! It's me. Open the door."

  The door didn't open.

  "C'mon, Ennis," Marsh implored. "We gotta talk."

  In a voice so small it sounded as if it could be that of a frightened child rather than a forty-year-old man, Ennis said, "How do I know it is really you?"

  "Who else would it be?" Marsh argued impatiently. He gave Sydney a "What is his problem?" look.

  "What do you expect?" she said in reply. "He's been dealing with this longer than you."

  Marsh thought for a moment, then softened.

  "It's me, Ennis," he said. "I promise."

  "Who is that with you?" Ennis asked.

  "My friend Sydney. You know her. She's Cooper's sister."

  "Hi, Ennis," she said.

  Marsh added, "If it wasn't us—I mean, if it was Damon—we wouldn't need for you to open the door. We'd just come in. Right?"

  "That proves nothing," Ennis replied. "I have seen too many tricks."

  Marsh and Sydney exchanged worried looks.

  "Something happened to him," she said.

  "C'mon, Ennis!" Marsh shouted with frustration.

  Sydney put her hand on Marsh's shoulder to calm him, and said, "Ennis? If it was Damon out here, would we have the crucible you gave us in the cemetery?"

  There was a long pause, then Ennis asked, "You have the crucible?"

  "Yes," Marsh said, giving Sydney a big smile and a thumbs-up.

  Sydney beamed.

  "Show me," he said while tapping the door near the peephole.

  Sydney dug into her shoulder bag, pulled out the golden orb, and held it up to the lens in the door. Seconds later the door was unlocked and yanked open.

  "Quickly," Ennis commanded.

  They both hurried inside, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Ennis slammed the door shut and locked it tight. "What's going on?" Marsh asked.

  Ennis threw his arms around Marsh.

  "I am so sorry for that. I no longer know what to think and who to trust."

  Marsh patted Ennis soothingly on the back. "It's cool," he said. "I get it. I really get it."

  Ennis was crying. Sydney kept her distance, not wanting to intrude on the emotional moment. She glanced around the apartment to see that it was empty. There was no furniture, lamps, rugs, or anything else that would normally be found in a home. The only sign that a person actually lived there was a dirty blanket lying in the corner surrounded by empty Doritos bags. It looked more like the temporary shelter of a squatter than someone's home.

  "You moving out?" Sydney asked.

  Ennis pulled away from Marsh and tried to compose himself by wiping away his tears.

  Marsh was shocked to see that Ennis was a mess. His mother's friend and associate was normally an impeccably neat guy who ironed his clothes and kept his hair trimmed short. Ennis hardly looked like the same person. His clothes looked as though he had been sleeping in them for weeks, with grease st
ains on the front of his normally arctic-white shirt. His hollow cheeks were unshaven. Worse still, his eyes were bloodshot and tired, his dark skin gray. Flecks of gray had appeared in his black hair.

  "I am not moving," he replied. "I have gotten rid of everything other than what I need to get by."

  "Why?" Sydney asked.

  "To give him less ammunition to use against me," was his grim answer.

  Sydney and Marsh exchanged dark looks.

  "You look bad, Ennis," Marsh said. "What's been going on?"

  Ennis collected himself and cleared his throat, trying to regain whatever dignity he had left.

  "I gave up the crucible," he said, pointing to the golden ball that Sydney clutched. "That left me, how should I describe it? Exposed."

  "Damon's been haunting you?" Marsh asked.

  Ennis managed an ironic smile. "'Haunting' is a gentle way of putting it."

  He led them into the bedroom, where there was a single mattress on the floor, along with more empty bags of chips. He quickly closed the door behind them, which shut out most of the light since the window blinds were closed tight.

  Sydney stayed close to Marsh. She didn't fear Ennis as much as what he was about to tell them.

  "This has become my world," Ennis explained. "I do not leave the apartment unless it is absolutely necessary. Mostly it is to buy food."

  "Why all the chips?" Sydney asked.

  "Soft bags cannot harm me," he explained. "I cannot say the same for glass jars or metal cans or sharp utensils. I was afraid of what I might be tricked into doing with them, so I got rid of it all. I know, that sounds like the ramblings of a madman."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Marsh asked. "You could have come to Stony Brook. The crucible could have protected all of us!"

  "I considered it," Ennis admitted. "A few times I even left for the train station. But each time I was turned back by . . . circumstances."

  "Damon," Sydney said with a gasp. "He's keeping you isolated."

  "Why don't you answer your phone?" Marsh asked. "Because I never know who might be calling," was his sober answer.

  Marsh knew what that meant. He'd gotten plenty of unwanted phone calls courtesy of Damon the Butcher.

  "Have you told your father about Damon?" Ennis asked.

  "No," Marsh answered quickly. "And I'm not going to. The more who know, the more will be in danger. I've heard that way too many times, and I believe it."

  "You cannot battle this alone," Ennis warned.

  "I'm not. I've got Sydney . . . and Cooper."

  On hearing the name of Marsh's dead best friend, Ennis's eyes opened wide.

  "You must tell me all that has happened," he implored.

  They sat down, though Sydney and Marsh chose the floor over the soiled mattress. It took only a few minutes for Marsh to relate the story of his battle with Gravedigger and Cooper's adventure in the Black. Ennis listened without interrupting. He soaked up every word. Nodding. Understanding. Every so often he winced, mostly when Marsh told him about what his mother had been through in the Black.

  Marsh's tale ended with Sydney's near death at school, and their plan to find Damon and destroy him.

  Marsh finished with, "Hearing it all like that makes it sound so incredibly impossible."

  "Yet we know it is not," Ennis said, tired. "Words cannot begin to express how miserable I feel over what I so foolishly started."

  "Don't be sorry," Marsh declared. "Help us."

  He took the golden ball from Sydney, held it up and continued, "You discovered the poleax and the crucibles in the tomb that protected the Rift. There were six. Three are broken. This is the fourth. Do you know where the other two are?"

  Ennis looked uncomfortable, as if it were a question he didn't want to answer. He stood and went to the window to peer outside in case someone might be listening in, even though they were ten floors up. Satisfied, he closed the blinds and then went into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

  Sydney whispered to Marsh, "He's gone off the deep end."

  "We all have," Marsh replied.

  Ennis came back into the room and said, "I do not know where they might be. When I left the tomb in Greece, I brought out only three."

  "You told me the one I broke belonged to my mother and you promised her you'd give it to me to keep me safe. But that wasn't how it happened, was it?"

  "No," Ennis admitted. "I told you that so you would appreciate its importance. I did not divulge the whole story because I was holding out hope that you would not be touched by this horror and never learn the truth. It was foolish of me to think it would be that simple."

  Sydney said, "So what about the other crucibles?"

  Ennis rubbed his chin nervously.

  "One has to be with the poleax," Marsh declared. "That's why Damon can't see it. My mother believes you took the weapon out of Damon's tomb, Ennis. Did you?"

  Sydney and Marsh stared at Ennis, waiting for a response.

  Ennis kept his eyes on the floor.

  "C'mon, man," Sydney blurted out impatiently. "Did you take the poleax and hide it with a crucible or not?"

  Ennis frowned and nodded. "I did."

  Hearing those words and the reality they revealed made Marsh's head spin. "My god," he said, stunned. "All this time. Damon's been coming after me but you're the one who knows."

  "And I will not tell you where it is," Ennis added. "That knowledge would only put you in more danger."

  "More danger?" Sydney bellowed, and jumped to her feet. "Are you serious? How can we be in any more danger than this?"

  "You have no idea, miss," Ennis said. "Look at me. I cannot sleep because he invades my thoughts with such horribly vivid visions that it is impossible to know if I am awake or dreaming. I have been tortured by visits from my dead parents, who implore me to tell Damon where his weapon is hidden. I know they are only shadows, but they are torturous just the same. He has shown me images of a fantastic feast, knowing how hungry I am. He has sent me home to a glorious, warm beach, enticing me with the promise of paradise, but it is all an illusion to further the torture. I have not given in because I know that if he finds the poleax, it would create horrors that go far beyond what I have had to deal with. I consider this my punishment for disturbing the tomb . . . for forcing your mother to disturb the tomb. For that I deserve whatever horror he sends my way. But I will not let him beat me. The secret of the poleax will go with me to my own grave."

  Marsh stood up and looked Ennis square in the eye. "That's noble, Ennis, but taking the secret to your grave won't end it. Your dying would only move you closer to Damon."

  Ennis snapped a surprised look to Marsh. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Marsh saw a spark of clarity in Ennis's otherwise dead gaze, as if a thought had come to him. Something he hadn't considered before.

  Sydney said, "Kinda hard to wrap your brain around, isn't it?"

  "Perhaps," Ennis replied thoughtfully.

  "So then, what about the sixth crucible?" Sydney said, pressing.

  "I am afraid that I do not know where it is," Ennis admitted. "That is the truth. My guess is that it went

  through the Rift during the earthquake and is somewhere in the Black. If not, it could be buried in the rubble near the Necromanteio."

  "Swell," Sydney said, deflated. "So to find it we either have to mount an excavation project in Greece . . . or die."

  Ennis nodded knowingly. "If it has gone through to the Black, perhaps Cooper will locate it. Find it, and you will have even more leverage over Damon."

  "It's not about leverage," Marsh argued. "Damon must be destroyed and I think we'll need the poleax to do it."

  Ennis's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Is that why you want to locate the weapon? To use it against Damon? Please do not tell me that is your plan."

  "It's a thought," Marsh answered with a shrug.

  "Whoa, wait," Sydney cried. "That's news to me."

  "I want to know where it is, Syd," Marsh said adam
antly. "We can't keep guessing."

  "Yes, we can," Sydney argued. "As long as Damon is guessing too. If we don't know where the poleax is, he can't force us to get it."

  "Tell that to Damon!" Marsh shot back. "That hasn't stopped him from terrorizing us."

  "And what happens if we find it?" Sydney argued. "There'd be no stopping him from coming after us."

  "Except that we'd have two crucibles. And maybe we could turn the poleax on him. That's what Coop was thinking."

  "No!" Ennis cried. "It is far too dangerous."

  "But it might be our only chance," Marsh argued.

  "Then there is no chance," Ennis said soberly. "Please. I want you to go now."

  He hurried out of the bedroom, headed for the front door. Marsh and Sydney followed.

  "Come with us," Sydney said. "This crucible can protect you too."

  "No," Ennis said with finality. "I do not wish to be shielded from Damon. I want to confront him. I need to confront him."

  "You can't fight him," Marsh argued. "You know that."

  "Perhaps not," Ennis said. "Or perhaps I am stronger than you think."

  "I think you're incredibly strong," Marsh cried. "We need your help. Please come with us."

  "I will help," Ennis said calmly. "In my way."

  For the first time since they had arrived, Ennis looked at peace. It actually troubled Marsh to see the sudden change in his attitude.

  "What are you going to do, Ennis?" Marsh asked suspiciously.

  "What I must," he replied. "As must you. Take care of yourself and do not seek out the poleax."

  Marsh searched Ennis's eyes, looking for a clue as to what was going through his mind.

  "I want to know what you're thinking," Marsh said.

  "Do not worry about me," was Ennis's reply. "Concern yourself with making the best use of the opportunities that present themselves to you. That is what I plan to do." Marsh nodded.

  "Wait. That's it?" Sydney interjected. "We can't leave him here! As soon as the crucible is gone, Damon will go after him again."

  Ennis gave Sydney a warm smile and said, "And I will welcome that."

  Sydney looked to Marsh and cried, "He's crazy."

  "Maybe a little," Ennis said. "But for the first time since I pulled myself from the rubble of that tomb, I believe there will be an end to this nightmare."