The Prophecy Machine ftlm-1

by Neal Barrett Jr.

  “Disappearing how? You don't mean dying, you mean just-going, right?”

  “That's it, indeed. And didn't anyone ever know why, ever know how.”

  “And this had to do with the Nuccis somehow?”

  “I'm near certain it did. Everyone thought so at the time. Bad blood is what I'm saying. I've no idea why.”

  Finn took a breath. Lightning forked out of the sky and struck the ground far away. Finn could feel the tingle in his boots. And, for an instant, the Coldies seemed to blink away.

  “Do you know a man here in town named Dr. Nicoretti? He's a Hatter, I don't know much more than that.”

  “I know who he is. I wasn't alive in his time.”

  “And a Mycer seer …”

  “Well, certainly I do. How do you think you found us this night, Master Finn?”

  Before Finn could answer, the ghost of Lucas Klunn began to shimmer and drift apart.

  “One thing more, or maybe two,” said a chilly whisper in his ear. “You might stay among the living, there's a little chance of that. The Newlie, now, I doubt she'll make it through. And hear me, Master Finn: There is something in the Nucci house that's more like us than you …”

  “Wait,” Finn said, “you can't go and leave me with that!”

  Finn scarcely blinked, and Lucas D. Klunn was gone. So was Captain Pynch, and so were all the rest …

  30

  Finn had been so intent on Lucas Klunn that he'd failed to notice the storm had swept over the town. Scudding clouds near touched the earth, and thunder was a drummer far away. Errant drops of rain plunked from ruined timbers overhead. Somehow, the silence now was more frightening than the raging storm itself.

  There was so much stirring in his head that Finn feared it might burst at any time. Foxers, Bowsers, and sly Nicoretti, who was clearly a danger, though he couldn't say how. Dread revelations from the Mycer, doom from the apparition Klunn.

  Reason said put it all aside. Stay alert, keep your mind free until you come safely back to Letitia's side.

  “A fine idea,” Finn agreed with himself, “I'll surely have to try it some time …”

  Finn damned and praised the mess the storm had left behind. His legs were weary from stomping through the muck and mire. Still, this misery was countered by the fact that he seemed to have the night to himself.

  He wondered about the time. “Night” was likely not the proper word now. It had to be the very early hours, not too far from dawn. With this in mind, he quickened his pace as much as the rain-soaked earth would allow.

  A good quarter hour after he left the shades, Finn smelled the strong, salty scent of the sea. Moments later it appeared, a darkness greater than the night, touched here and there with peaks of luminescent white.

  He was very relieved at the sight. If the sea was to his left then he only had to turn a short angle to his right. The road from town to the Nuccis would appear, and he'd be with Letitia long before first light.

  Finn had not allowed himself to dwell on her much until now. She had to be safe, had to be just as he'd left her, just as he saw her image now. Sabatino wouldn't harm her, wouldn't dare. Even that crazed old man had warned his son about that.

  Finn hesitated, closed his eyes and drew in a cold breath from the sea.

  “Bricks and Sticks,” he said aloud, aware at once of the foolish rationale he'd allowed to cloud his mind. “Letitia's all right because Calabus is there? Wake up, Finn, before you go as mad as all the rest!”

  The day was coming much too quickly now. Moments before, Finn had felt secure in the safety of the dark. Now, things gray and indistinct threw off their nightly guise and donned their daytime shapes again.

  He felt naked and exposed. He found a small depression and hunched down nearly to the ground. He could still see a slice of the sea, the low outline of the town etched against a sky tinged with purple, streaked with dirty blue.

  Standing again, moving quickly but carefully across the wet ground, he saw a darkened smudge not far ahead below the last wink of fading stars-

  The house of the Nuccis! It had to be! There was nothing, anywhere, that matched its warped and crooked lines, its odd delineation, its bizarre silhouette. Finn could have never imagined he'd be so pleased to see the place again. The road itself could not be very far. He was tempted to go straight ahead until it appeared. Even after the rain, the way would be easier than what he was crossing now.

  Easier, yes-but more exposed as well. He kept to the low, muddy hillocks, the wet and marshy grass. The cover wasn't good, but it was better than waving a flag and letting one and all know he was there. A little closer, another few yards, and he'd be near enough to run for it, even if someone suddenly appeared on his tail.

  He started walking, even faster than before, and then he heard them howling, huffing, making their way across the spongy earth, a small but noisome army of Hooters, stomping their way toward town before the day began. Finn cursed them soundly, muttered every oath he knew, and pressed himself against the sodden ground.

  They were Hooters for sure. They hooted, hollered and danced about. Some, Finn could see, raising one eye above the mud, wore homemade feathers sewn to their arms. All wore Hooter beaks and goggle eyes, and all carried torches that they waved above their heads even though there was nothing anywhere dry enough to burn. Still, if you were a Hooter, Finn guessed, it was best to carry plenty of fire. One never knew what one might find.

  He didn't move until they were clearly out of sight. They passed very close to the Nuccis, but caused no mischief there. Fortunate, indeed, for nothing he could think of would go up as quickly as that rotted, desiccated corpse the Nuccis called a house.

  At last Finn came to his feet, miserable, cold and wet. He picked up his basket and scowled in the direction where the Hooters had disappeared. Cutting it rather close, he decided. It was nearly daylight now, and that meant Hatter time. Was it too much to hope that the louts in yellow hats would meet the oafs with goggle eyes, and start a religious war?

  The house was closer now, grim and gray as ever, tilting every way but straight. He thought about what the seer had told him, about the blanket spell. Who was responsible for that? Sabatino, Calabus himself?

  No, the Mycer lady had been too impressed. It was a powerful load of magic, and he didn't think either of the Nuccis could handle such as that.

  Who, then? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed a peculiar spell indeed … It clouded a secret that even the Rubinella couldn't see, a secret so strong Finn couldn't even spit it out.

  He'd been pondering that one ever since he left the seer. Why bother to protect the old man's Prophecy Machine, if it wasn't even real, but only a lunatic's dream? Was it something else, then? Something down there besides the mad device?

  “Foxers can get in the house, and possibly anyone else … if the spell is so awesome, why can't it keep them out …?”

  There seemed to be an answer to that, one with a certain sense of reason-if, that is, there was reason in magic at all. Anyone could get in the cellar-anyone who had the old man's key-but once you saw the thing, it clouded your mind, and you couldn't speak of it again.

  So, logically, if you came to harm it, what might it do then? Finn shuddered at the thought. If it could stop your tongue, what could it do to all your other parts?

  Maybe Letitia could see him, he thought. She could, if she was there in their room, if she was looking at the time. The windows were so grimy, so totally askew, Finn wasn't sure he could spot the right one from the outside of the house-

  A high and piercing shriek brought Finn to a halt, brought the hair up straight atop his head. He went to ground again, slipped his blade free, and peered through the stand of brittle grass.

  There was scarcely any cover on that damp and barren plain, other than a thicket of weeds, of dead and tangled trees, huddled close against the house. Finn saw something move there, something very fast fleeing through the grass.

  Another shriek, another horri
d wail. Finn had heard nothing like it, such a grate, such a screech, such a raw intrusion on the nerves, such an unworldly shrill. He came up in a crouch, saw the weeds tremble, saw the twisted branches shake.

  The form moved again-when it did, Finn moved swiftly, determined to cut it off and bring it to a halt.

  The creature had extraordinary senses. It froze the instant Finn made his move.

  “Whoever you are, you can halt right now,” Finn shouted, “I'll brook no more nonsense this day-”

  The words were scarcely out of his mouth before something burst through brittle foliage, shrieking and whining, an assault upon his ears. Finn stepped quickly aside, raised his weapon-stopped in his tracks, stood there and stared.

  Julia Jessica Slagg scuttled past him, lizard legs a-blur, moving at a speed Finn had never imagined she could go. Just behind her came something with a hop, something with a gimp, something that scuffled and staggered and dipped, something dark and damp with a pinched little face and shaggy ears. Something, he saw, no less than Squeen William himself, clutching a wretched broom, swatting at Julia, shrieking and shouting and gnashing wicked teeth.

  “Hold it, you, hold it right there!” Finn took three long steps, grabbed the Vampie by the scruff, jerked him off his ugly feet, leaving him swatting air.

  “I don't know what you're up to or why, but it's over right now. Drop the broom, Squeen, and stop that noise before you ruin my ears for good!”

  Squeen's answer was another shriek, even shriller than before. He spit, spat, ground his razor teeth, stared up at Finn with his fearful Vampie eyes.

  “I can't blame you for being thick-headed, considering who you work for. Now get out of here while I've still got a kindly mood to spare.”

  With that, Finn loosed the wretched fellow, dropped him to the ground, gave him a kick and sent him on his way. The Vampie whined and whimpered, sniveled and yelled, fell in the brush, rose and hit a tree, stumbled to his feet and scampered toward the kitchen door.

  Finn turned away in disgust. “Julia, where might you be? Call out or something, I can't see a thing in this tangle of desiccated grass.”

  “Move an inch with that dirty boot of yours, and you'll step on my head …”

  Finn looked down, startled by the croak, by the too familiar squawk, by the cranky voice right at his feet.

  “Will you tell me what that is all about?” he said, squatting to the ground. “Why is that fleabag after you with a broom? What are you doing out here with Letitia up there all alone?”

  “I'm fine, I'm not hurt badly, thank you for your gracious concern. Would you turn me over, please? This is undignified and crude, a plain humiliation at best.”

  Finn tried to keep a solemn face. Julia did indeed look somewhat improper lying on her back, legs churning in the air.

  “I'll have to look at that,” he said, setting her aright. “I'd guess a balance wheel is somewhat off the track. Possibly a spinner gear, it's hard to tell which. If you wish, I'll carry you back to the house.”

  “I don't wish, Finn. I am quite accustomed to taking care of myself. Which is lucky indeed, since I seldom get any help.”

  “Whatever you like,” Finn said. “And you haven't answered my questions, being so busy crying about yourself-”

  At that instant, a familiar howl erupted from the house, a howl and a scream and some other sounds as well.

  Finn raced for the door, Julia on his heels, slightly off center, but clearly under sail.

  At the entry, at the shabby front steps, Finn paused, listening to the clamor, then raised one foot and kicked the door in.

  The door nearly vanished, crumbled into powder, scattered into pulp, back to basic dust. Finn stopped short and drew a breath, taking in a most peculiar sight. Squeen William writhed on the floor, flailing about, caught in the tangle of a cruel corded net that had dropped from above. The net was laced with barbs, hooks, nails and broken glass.

  Sabatino stood back from the trap, not even looking at Squeen, venomous eyes locked entirely on Finn.

  “Don't stand there gawking, craftsman,” the younger Nucci said. “You've a blade, help me cut this miserable creature out.”

  “This is a terrible deed,” Finn said, guessing at once who the trap was really for. “The poor fellow could've been killed.”

  “True enough,” Sabatino said, shaking his head, “nothing ever works the way it should …”

  31

  He held her very close, so tightly she feared he might crush her in his joyous embrace. He smelled to high heaven, smelled of mold, smelled of onions, smelled of Bowsers and Foxers and primeval sweat.

  Letitia didn't care. She was just glad to have him safe again, glad to have him there.

  “Rest,” she told him, “you're practically asleep on your feet. We can talk after that.”

  Finn, bone-weary and ready to drop, started to babble and couldn't stop. It all came at once, the whole thing from the start: Foxers, Bowsers, Nicoretti and the seer. The Bullies and the stone. The Coldies and the storm, Hooters hooting in the night. And, finally, poor Squeen William setting off the trap Sabatino had laid for Finn.

  “I knew it,” Letitia said, clenching her fists till her palms turned white. “That old man told me his son was up to something. Bragged about it, can you believe that?”

  “I can indeed. That, and any other madness you have to tell.”

  “I couldn't warn you, love. There was nothing I could do.”

  She glanced at Julia, giving her a nasty stare. “I might've had some help, if Miss Julia hadn't run off for fear she'd get taken apart.”

  “What?” Julia raised her snout, blinked her red eyes. “Who's going to take who apart? Anyone tries, they'll come away without a hand!”

  “Don't lie,” Letitia said. “If you lie, you don't get an afterlife. Though I don't know as you would, being what you are …”

  “Wait just a minute here.” Finn clapped his head between his hands. “Who's going to take Julia apart, what are we talking about?”

  “I didn't even know about that. I left when the old man came in. And where was I going, one might ask? I was going to look for you, Finn.”

  “You had better be talking true this time,” Letitia said.

  “What old man? Calabus, you mean? He was in here? You didn't say a thing about that.”

  “Now when would I, dear? With all your tales, who'd get a word in? That man-you won't believe this, I didn't-He wanted me to work with him on that-whatever it is. As if you could get me down there again … Oh, Finn, you don't know what I'm talking about, I scarcely do myself.”

  She paused to get a breath, led Finn over to the bed and sat him down. “You're soaking wet. Get out of those clothes and get into something else.”

  “Like what? I don't have anything else.”

  “I don't care, I'll wrap you in a sheet. Finn, that man is scary. He so much as told me he doesn't know what he's doing down there. All that-that awful machinery, and he doesn't know? He wants help from me? He said he had a dream. I thought I'd come out of my skin, listening to stuff like that.”

  “It simply doesn't make sense.”

  “You think I don't know? That's what scared me to death. Oh, Finn …”

  Finn looked down at his basket and grasped her hand in his. “I'm sorry about the food, I really did my best.” The rain had done its job, and there was nothing left but a soggy layer of mush.

  “I couldn't get you anything to wear. Shops aren't the same over here.”

  “You got back, love.”

  “Captain Pynch said hello.”

  Letitia made a face. “You told me that.” She studied the amulet the Mycer had sent, ran the polished chain through her fingers, touched the tiny stone.

  “I hope she's not angry at me for using her name. I didn't know what else to do.”

  “She's not mad. She's greatly concerned, is all.”

  Finn watched her, trying not to shiver in his clothes. His heart nearly broke with the joy of s
eeing her again. Still, he was filled with sorrow and dread. He hadn't told her, and certainly never would, all the seer had said. That, and the grim account of the Coldie that Letitia would surely perish here.

  He would never let that happen, no matter what. He would see her out of here, safely home again. And who could credit a dreary apparition, a thing with no more substance than smoke? Why, the fellow had no idea if this was tomorrow or today. And even if a seer and a shade had dire things to say, that didn't mean they were so. Especially the dead …

  One thing he believed, a thing he couldn't let go, the words the Coldie had said:

  There is something in the Nucci house, something that's more like us than you …

  He became aware, then, that his thoughts had taken him far away. He glanced up quickly, hoping she hadn't read his fears, that none of the horrors in his mind had come her way …

  “All right,” he said abruptly, as if a great plan had taken shape in his head, “we're getting out of here. I shouldn't have waited, no matter what.”

  He ran his hands through his hair, tried to cast the weariness aside, and, now that he'd begun, wondered what he ought to say next.

  “I take the blame, though that won't help a whit. We have held ourselves hostage here-for as loathsome as it is, it seemed a sanctuary from the madness outside. Our fears were real enough, I don't have to tell you that. There is still great danger out there, danger very real.

  “I am convinced, though, we must face those dangers, for we are surely not safe here. Letitia, Calabus' behavior toward you is alarming enough. The old man's daft. That device down below has scrambled his head. And Sabatino has such a hatred for me-and a lewd obsession toward you-I feel he's a greater menace than Calabus himself.”

  And why don't you tell her there is something so dread and unspeakable here, that even the dead fear it? Are you doing her a favor, keeping her in the dark?

  “There can be no more waiting for a ship. If I knew one would sail into the harbor tomorrow, I would not wait it out. And if we can't stay here, if we cannot stay in that- that open asylum they choose to call a town, then we must go somewhere else still …”