Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood

by D. J. MacHale

  Marsh turned and ran.

  Coop asked Press, "What's that about?"

  Press's answer was to take a firm hold on his wooden stave. Coop noticed and grasped the handle of his own sword. Brennus's breathing grew rapid. He let out short, quick gasps that turned into a painful laugh. He looked back to Press and said, "This be true?"

  Press didn't reply.

  "Of course it is!" Damon announced. "My army waits in the Black for my return along with—"

  Brennus threw up a gnarled hand, silencing Damon. Damon was so stunned that someone would dare show him such disrespect that he actually fell silent.

  Brennus glared at Press. "You knew it be coming to this."

  Press shrugged. "It's why I'm still here."

  "You will address me!" Damon bellowed. "Both of you!" They ignored him.

  "Enough," Damon said, his frustration growing. He motioned to the figments and commanded, "Seize the weapons of the Watcher and the boy!"

  The demons didn't move.

  Damon lifted the poleax threateningly and shouted, "Now!" The figments moved, but not toward Press and Cooper. They quickly gathered together and moved behind Brennus. "Uh-oh," Coop muttered.

  Marsh ran up, wide-eyed and out of breath.

  "They're coming!" he announced frantically.

  "Who is?" Coop asked.

  "Spirits. Thousands of them. They're appearing out in the garden and headed this way."

  "Wonderful!" Damon exclaimed. "Exactly what I expected."

  Brennus again looked to Press and said, "Did ya really think there be any other way?"

  "No," Press replied, resigned. "I didn't. This will end badly."

  Brennus smiled, revealing blackened, cracked teeth. "I be counting on it."

  "Time to go," Press said to the boys.

  "Where?" Marsh asked.

  "Anywhere but here," Press replied, and leaped forward, jumping over the empty tomb, headed toward the rear of the cathedral.

  Marsh and Cooper were right behind him.

  "Stop them!" Damon commanded the figments.

  Two demons made a move for Press and regretted it. Press expertly jabbed the end of his stave into the first, then flicked the pole to the right and knocked the second off its hairy feet.

  "Damn," was all Coop could utter, totally impressed.

  The front doors of the cathedral crashed open as spirits began pouring in. They were the restless damned of a dozen centuries, moving forward together as if being drawn by an unseen, irresistible force.

  "Perfect," Damon whispered at the grisly sight.

  Press, Cooper, and Marsh ran past the circle of pews and deeper into the cathedral.

  "Who are they?" Coop asked as they dodged chunks of fallen ceiling that lay in piles on the stone floor.

  "Brennus's followers," Press replied. "They sensed his release."

  "How many are there?" Marsh asked.

  "You don't want to know," was Press's sobering answer.

  Coop added, "And now they've got a ticket out of the Blood."

  His words stung Marsh. Up until that moment the threat of Damon marching an army back along the Morpheus Road was just a frightening concept. Seeing Brennus's army of the damned had made it all too real. The war that could bring about doomsday was beginning to take shape and all because he had given Damon the poleax.

  They ran through winding corridors until they came upon a door that led out of the cathedral. Stepping outside, they entered a ghost town straight out of the Old West.

  Coop glanced back and announced, "They're not coming after us."

  The three slowed but kept moving along the dusty, deserted street while casting quick glances back to make sure they weren't being followed.

  "How did the spirits stop Brennus before?" Marsh asked Press.

  "When I first came to the Blood, he was preparing for a major battle. He wasn't expecting a small group of spirits to challenge him. It wasn't hard for the few spirits who opposed him to get close enough to wrestle him into that tomb."

  "Okay, cool. Let's do that again," Coop exclaimed.

  "This time he'll be ready," Press said. "We'd never get close to him."

  "But we have to do something," Coop exclaimed. "Did you see that guy? I don't know what evil looks like, but if there was a picture in the dictionary—"

  "We fight," Marsh announced with such adamancy that it made the others stop moving.

  "Fight?" Coop exclaimed. "He's got an army. We don't. Do we?"

  Press answered, "There are spirits in the Blood who oppose Brennus, but rallying enough of them to oppose a force like that . . . I don't see it."

  "I'm not talking about finding an army in the Blood," Marsh said. "We already have one . . . in the Black."

  Coop laughed sarcastically. "You can't be serious. There's no way we'd convince the Guardians to come into the Blood. I still can't believe we did it."

  "They wouldn't have to," Marsh said.

  Coop stared at Marsh, uncomprehending.

  "What are you thinking, Marsh?" Press asked.

  "The Guardians protected a Rift for centuries. They can do it again. Zoe could bring them to the mouth of the Rift between the Black and the Blood and stop Brennus's army from coming through. The spirit swords don't work in the Blood. But in the Black . . ."

  "We could wipe them out the moment they stepped through," Coop said, finishing the thought. "It's a small battlefield. The width of the Rift. Totally controllable."

  Marsh added, "And it's not like Damon can create another Rift. The poleax is useless here."

  "What about Damon's soldiers in the Black?" Coop asked.

  "Damon isn't there to lead them," was Marsh's answer.

  "Jeez," Coop said. "Could this work?"

  They both looked to Press, who stared at the ground, thinking.

  "C'mon, man," Coop cajoled. "Unless you've got some higher-spirit kind of idea, I'm thinking this is our best chance."

  Press took a deep breath and said, "It would mean the destruction of so many souls."

  "Not as many as if Damon marched an entire army back into the Black," Marsh said.

  Press nodded thoughtfully and said, "I never thought I'd see the day."

  "What day is that?" Marsh asked.

  "The day I'd leave the Blood."

  "Bonus!" Coop exclaimed. "You get sprung from Trouble Town. Maybe you can get some of your Watcher friends to give us a hand, like the one who gave you that stick."

  "That won't happen," Press said adamantly.

  "Then, all the more reason to get out of here," Marsh said. "It really is up to us."

  Press looked to the two boys, and smiled. "I'm not entirely sure why you two guys got involved in this, but I'm glad you did."

  "That makes one of us," Coop said. "Can we leave now?" Press led the group quickly back through the Blood. Though there was no map and no obvious route through the haunted world, all three knew they were headed in the right direction. They passed through empty towns and crumbled cities, past toppled Mayan pyramids and barren forests, with no obvious borders between visions.

  "This is strange," Marsh observed.

  "You're just figuring that out?" Coop replied.

  "Why hasn't Brennus tried to stop us?" Marsh asked. "If he's got followers everywhere, why haven't we run into any?"

  Coop scanned the surroundings. Up until that moment the spirits of the Blood had been everywhere, wandering through the visions like the lost souls they were. Now not a single spirit could be seen.

  "Jeez," Coop declared, looking around. "Where did everybody go?"

  "They're moving toward Brennus," Press said.

  "All of them?" Coop declared. "How's that possible? The Blood looks deserted!"

  The implication was sobering.

  "How many Guardians do you think Zoe and my mom can gather?" Marsh asked Coop.

  "I don't know. Enough. I hope."

  None of them said what they were thinking: How many was enough?

  It wasn't
long before they saw the silhouette of the Flavian Amphitheater and entered the wreckage of the once mighty stadium.

  "There," Marsh said, pointing to the gash in the wall that was the Rift.

  "That's it?" Press asked. "Simple as that?"

  "Be careful when you go through," Coop said. "There might be some of Damon's Roman pals waiting for us." He held up the black sword and added, "And on the other side, these things have juice."

  The three hurried right up to the tear through dimensions. Press stopped and looked back, taking one last look at the ghastly world.

  "Don't tell me you're getting nostalgic," Coop said.

  "In a strange way I am," Press answered. "I accepted my fate and made the best of it. It's possible to find beauty everywhere, even in the most horrific place that exists."

  "I'll take your word for it," Coop said. "You can visit anytime you'd like."

  "I'll pass on that," Press said. "Let's go."

  Press held his stave up and ready, Coop raised his sword, and the three stepped into the Rift.

  They kept moving forward, though it didn't seem like they were walking. In no time they approached the jagged gray shape that was the other side of the Rift. It grew larger as they drew near, rising up higher than their heads. Without a word, they all moved through . . .

  . . . and stepped into the arena to face three Roman soldiers.

  "Let's go!" Coop declared.

  He immediately went for the soldier closest to him, attacking violently.

  The soldier could only lift his shield to protect himself. He knew what the black sword could do.

  Press went to work on the other two soldiers. They were more aggressive with him, for they didn't fear his wooden stave. Press swung left, clipping one, then ducked down and swung the stave low, knocking out the other soldier at the knees.

  "Why are we fighting?" Coop called. "Go to your vision!"

  "How?" Marsh exclaimed.

  Coop ran to him and grabbed his arm as the colorful swirl appeared in front of them.

  "You'll learn," Coop declared, and all three stepped into the fog.

  22

  Sydney had to force herself to drive safely.

  Getting into a wreck while careening around a corner doing eighty wouldn't have done anybody any good. Least of all her. Still, she pressed her silver Volkswagen Beetle to the limits of her driving ability and prayed that she wouldn't be pulled over. It helped that she was headed to the remote northern end of Stony Brook, where traffic cops rarely patrolled.

  She was angry at her brother, which wasn't unusual. In this case it was because he had the ability to get to Marsh long before she could. He was a spirit and she had to rely on common old ground transportation. She knew it was silly to be angry at him for that but she needed to be angry at someone and Coop was always a solid choice. She originally wanted him to ride in the car with her but agreed that speed was what mattered, so he vanished and went on his ghostly way while she was left to negotiate the winding roads of town in the hope that she wasn't too late to stop Marsh from doing whatever he planned on doing.

  The taxi dispatcher said that a cab had taken him to Stony Brook cemetery. She didn't relish the idea of going back there alone, but if that's where Marsh was headed, that's where she needed to be.

  It was late in the afternoon when she rolled through the front gates, relieved to see that they hadn't yet been closed for the day. She parked the car near a work shed, hoping nobody would notice that there was a late visitor. She wasn't in the mood to offer explanations, or to walk through the lonely cemetery, for that matter, but the fear of what might be happening to Marsh trumped any other concerns.

  "Cooper?" she whispered to nobody, hoping that her brother's spirit might be watching over her.

  There was no answer, ghostly or otherwise, so she steeled herself and walked quickly for her brother's grave. It was the only place she could think of to go.

  She arrived without incident. It was an odd experience to be standing over Cooper's grave. He had been buried only a few weeks before, which was enough time for young grass to begin poking up through the turned soil. Though her brother's broken body lay several feet beneath the earth, it was hard to feel sadness. She was too busy dealing with his spirit, which was every bit as arrogant and obnoxious as his living self. It gave her a strange feeling of comfort to know that life didn't end with the death of one's living body.

  Though, given recent events, she wasn't entirely sure how much longer anybody would be able to rest in peace. Anywhere.

  "You here?" Sydney called out. "Hey? Anybody?" No answer.

  It wasn't a huge surprise. She couldn't think of a single reason why Marsh would have come to Cooper's grave. She was only there because she didn't know where else to go. Sydney was smart. Brilliant. The answers to so many questions that had been plaguing her since the adventure began felt tantalizingly close. It was frustrating for her not to be able to grasp them. As she stood over her brother's grave, she rolled the events of the summer over in her head. Why would Marsh come to the cemetery? He didn't have to hang out there to speak with Cooper. Even in death, Coop was never far away. No, he wasn't there because of Cooper, but he might have been there because of Ennis Mobley.

  Ennis had been buried in the same cemetery that very day. Was that why Marsh had come? Sydney had no idea where Ennis's grave was and knew she wouldn't find it on her own. She decided to find somebody who worked there and hope they had a directory of the dead.

  She had started back toward the parking lot, her mind still churning, when her eye caught sight of something that was oddly familiar. It was a mausoleum. She had almost forgotten about the one other time she had been to this cemetery. It was for Marsh's mother's funeral. She hadn't wanted to go but the Seavers were close friends and her parents insisted she be there, so she sucked it up and went, and hated every second of it. As much as she hadn't wanted to be at the sad service, her heart went out to Marsh who stood next to his mother's coffin in the lower level of the mausoleum. It pained her then, and it pained her now to think about the chain of events that his mother's death had set in motion. So much sadness. So many deaths. Cooper, George 0., Mr. Reilly, and now Ennis Mobley.

  Sydney stopped short. Her mind went back to Terri Seaver's funeral. She remembered standing in the back of the small group that had gone into the mausoleum for the interment. She had to stand up on tiptoes to see what was happening near the crypt. The priest had mumbled some prayers, then Ennis Mobley stepped forward and put something that looked like a tangle of branches on top of the coffin, announcing to the gathered that it was "the wood of life."

  Lignum vitae.

  Ennis's last words to Marsh.

  Sydney turned quickly and sprinted for the mausoleum. She blasted through the trees and ran up the marble steps to the front door. Did they lock these things? She pulled on the handle, and the door swung open easily. She remembered the place all too well, and why not? It was the only mausoleum she had ever been in. She hurried through the meditation area and went right to the door that led down the stairs to the crypt where Marsh's mother was interred. The door leading to the stairs wasn't locked either. That meant one of two things: Either they didn't bother locking the place, or somebody had opened them recently.

  "Marsh?" she cried, hurrying down the stairs.

  She hit the floor . . . and froze. Her heart went into her throat. Sydney didn't know what she expected to find down there, but it wasn't what she saw in front of her.

  A coffin lay on the floor, having been pulled from a destroyed tomb. The lid was open. Lying in a heap on the floor next to it was the owner. Sydney swallowed hard. Was she looking at the remains of Terri Seaver?

  She forced herself to step forward to take a closer look. Fighting back fear and a twisted stomach, she stared down at the remains . . . and realized the truth. Whoever the skeleton was, it wasn't Marsh's mom. It was definitely a man.

  "What the hell?" she whispered.

  Lying next to th
e remains was the tangle of branches that Ennis had placed on the coffin.

  Lignum vitae.

  The coffin belonged to Ree Seaver, though the skeleton did not.

  As grisly a sight as that was, it didn't affect her as much as the sight of the glowing tear in the wall of crypts. She may not have seen one before, but she knew exactly what it was. She was too late. Damon had the poleax and had torn open another Rift into the Black.

  Sydney backed away in a daze from the grisly scene. The pieces of the puzzle were falling quickly into place. Ennis's last words to Marsh had led him to the truth. The poleax had been hidden in his mother's grave. It made total sense. Ennis had brought the poleax back from Greece in the coffin. He wanted to keep it away from Damon and gave Marsh the crucibles for protection. But Damon was too smart. He killed Cooper, haunted Marsh, and tortured Ennis until he got what he wanted.

  Sydney stood looking into the glowing portal in awe of the fact that it was a conduit into the afterlife. What had happened? Where was Marsh? And Cooper? And for that matter . . . Damon? There was no way of knowing.

  Or was there?

  She took a step closer and gazed into eternity. The playing field was no longer in the Light. It had moved into the Black. She figured Cooper was there, doing his best to hunt down Damon. But where was Marsh?

  She took another step closer to the portal. The answers were just beyond its glowing border. The Black. The stories she heard from Cooper sounded as if it was an incredible place, a place out of your own imagination and experience. You could meet and interact with spirits from every time. When the time came for her to enter the Black, she would see her grandparents again. And her aunt Theresa. Or even President Kennedy! She wondered if you would be reunited with your pets. She wouldn't have minded cuddling up with her cat Abigail one more time. Even if it was an illusion. The Black seemed like a place full of nothing but possibilities. You could correct your mistakes and become the best possible person you were capable of being. No more pressure. No more expectations to live up to. It could be whatever you wanted it to be. It didn't make sense to her that Damon was trying so hard to come back into the uncertainty of the Light when the Black had so much more going for it.