The Nightmare Maker

by Gregory Pettit

  A tendril of writhing blackness burst out of the same gateway that Dana had come through, and I managed to grab her ankle. I smiled. This was what I’d been counting on. I summoned up every last ounce of willpower that I had left and thought of the darkness inside of me, the remnant of evil that had indelibly intertwined with my being when the alien creature emerging from the portal had touched me. It was him! He tricked you and lured you to your imprisonment! I mentally shouted. The puca heard me. Instantly, the pseudopod of darkness lashed out and wrapped around the Senior Auditor’s waist, yanking him toward the gateway to nothingness.

  Brown hit the ground hard but kept his hold on Olivia’s small, limp, blood-spattered form. I tried to move toward my daughter, to seize the opportunity I’d created, but my body was shutting down as I paid the price for violating the laws of physics. Dana and Mia surged forward, but the remaining walking corpses closed in on us. The two women, fighting like Valkyries who were late for Ragnarok, lashed out with bullets and buttstocks, yet they couldn’t break through.

  More tendrils of unidentifiable protoplasm swept out of the portal, fastening on to Brown, who looked like he wasn’t ready to go down without a fight. The twisted sorcerer snarled something incomprehensible and struck out with a spray of acid from his tentacle-arm, severing one writhing strand of chaos-infused flesh, but two more took its place. Next, he ground out a string of mystical syllables, but he’d channeled all of the power from the rioters into Olivia, who still glowed in the crook of his arm, and the incantation fizzled in a puff of smoke. Still more strands of darkness latched on to the Senior Auditor, engulfing his slug-like bottom half and dragging him to the lip of the portal, where he used his sucker hand to cling desperately to the floor—but it didn’t work. He slid slowly into the nothingness. Dana screamed and emptied the last of her bullets on one of the zombies, turning its head into a pink-and-gray pulp. She surged forward. Mia closed her eyes, seemingly unable to watch, and across the chaos of the room, Brown’s terribly human gaze met mine. “Let her go,” I mouthed, too weary to even vocalize.

  He could have done it. He could have at least left us our little girl’s body, and I think he even considered it for a moment, but then he glanced at Mia, weeping into her hands. He bared his shark teeth in a face-splitting rictus and heaved Olivia at the gateway to Mammon’s realm. She arced through the air, and Dana dove after our daughter, but a zombie crashed into her and bore her to the ground under its squelching bulk. That’s why I’m the only one who saw what happened next.

  A woman, tall, with golden hair in ringlets that hung down to her shoulders, emerald-green eyes, and fair, almost white skin strode out of the portal to Mammon’s realm. Her black, two-inch heels clacked on the concrete, unnaturally loud, and her long blue evening gown seemed to flow like water as she effortlessly reached up and snatched Olivia out of the air. Two of the woman’s long strides brought her next to the struggling sorcerer, and she bent her slender, graceful neck down to peer at him. “Oh, John, you poor, poor man. What have you done to yourself?” Then she stomped down on his hand, and he slid into the portal to limbo, taking the alien nightmare creature with him.

  “They hung him for a traitor, they themselves the traitor crew, But his soul is marching on…” the sorcerer howled, his imprecation rapidly dwindling away as he and the demon disappeared from sight. But I thought that I caught, just at the edge of hearing, a faint cry of, “Master!” Mia grunted, and a ripple went through the room, causing the portals to rapidly contract. She crashed to the ground.

  I looked up at the blond woman who held my daughter and tried to speak, but I was too weary to move anything but my eyes. She looked back at me, holding up the little girl, whose wound, I saw with infinite relief, was no more than a shallow slice across her cheek.

  “You’ve not done a very good job looking after your family, boy. Maybe it’s time I took care of Olivia for a while,” the woman said in an imperious but chillingly familiar tone. She walked back toward the quickly closing portal to Mammon’s realm, and I managed to summon up the strength for a single word just as she stepped through.

  “Mom?”

  Epilogue

  So, Dana, that’s all of my official statement to the British Government that you aren’t familiar with. You know that when the Senior Auditor went through the portal, the walking dead collapsed, and by the time you wiggled your way out from underneath them, I was passed out next to Mia. You also know that the Great Bank Riot of 2015 left nearly one hundred people dead of apparent heart attacks and several dozen police injured while, amazingly, no public mention has been made of the fact that a significant portion of the world’s gold reserve has mysteriously disappeared. Finally, you know that as soon as the authorities showed up, Badger’s boss, Superintendent Singh, had all of the survivors hustled out of the building, split up, and detained for the best part of a week. I’m guessing that it must have been then, sitting in solitary confinement, in the dark watches of the night, that you decided you could no longer be with me, the man who lost your daughter. I can’t blame you, but I also can’t just let you go, and I hope that my statement will help you understand what happened, why I did what I did, and let you come to forgive me.

  There are a few other things that have happened since that night that aren’t in the official statement, that I think you should know about.

  **********

  “…ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him, the Lord lift up his countenance upon him and give him peace. Amen.” The pastor stopped speaking, and there was a general murmur of amen in reply. The rain splattered down as I watched from the edge of the funeral service, standing next to Detective Inspector James Badger. A handful of earth was thrown on the coffin, and we walked silently away. Only when we got back to the squad car did either of us speak.

  “Your boss, Richard, was just one of nearly twenty people of whom you were a known associate that turned up dead. What happened inside of the bank will be, must be, swept under the carpet, but I don’t know think that this will be. I certainly don’t have that kind of pull,” the cop said.

  “Everything was kept quiet last time,” I replied, hands shoved into my jacket as we waited for the cold police cruiser to warm up.

  “There was a large, powerful, appreciative organization deploying considerable resources on your behalf last time. That same organization is neither as powerful nor as appreciative this time around.”

  “What about Toscan? He knew a fair number of the people who died, and he was at the scene of the crime. Surely this can all just be pinned on him?”

  “First of all, he wasn’t in the papers last year, and secondly…” Badger paused and glanced down at this point, his eyes made huge by his Coke-bottle lenses. “Secondly, he has disappeared. I wanted to let you know in person. I don’t think you’ll be arrested tomorrow or the next day, but unless you can do something about it, it is coming, and sooner rather than later. I’m sorry, son.”

  “Shit.” His use of that last word made me think of my mother, and I knew where I had to visit next.

  **********

  “Mr. Adler. So very good to see you,” Mia said dryly, and took a sip of tea. She was sitting behind a huge desk of glass and brushed steel, looking every inch the powerful modern businesswoman, just as she had when we’d first met on the street outside of my office.

  “I’d like to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement,” I stated, steepling my fingers and looking into her gray eyes, trying to read her immediate reaction. She could have played poker with Kenny Rogers for all that I picked up in her expression.

  “I’m not sure that you have anything that I or my organization want, Mr. Adler.” She looked me up and down, as if to imply that I was wholly lacking in all possible departments. “Give me your proposal, and I’ll consider it—perhaps in consideration of past services rendered.”

  I’d spent most of my adult life in negotiations
like this, and even if Mia knew one hundred times what I did about the supernatural world, she couldn’t know one one-hundredth of what I did about deal-making. If it had been true that there wasn’t anything that I could offer, then she wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me. Her little game of checking me out had just been a personal cruelty. I guess you deserve that when you’re responsible for banishing someone’s dad to another dimension.

  “I’m sure that we’ll be able to reach a satisfactory conclusion, Ms. Noel,” I said, nodding slightly. “I’m looking for a couple of things: protection and information.” I paused, and she gave me an almost imperceptible pursing of her lips to indicate that I should continue. “As you are almost certainly aware, my personal situation is suboptimal. My employment at the pharmaceutical company was terminated last week, and the police consider me a person of interest. In the wake of the previous episode of extradimensional activity, your organization apparently was able to wield considerable influence on my behalf. I’d ask you to do that again. In addition, you must know that I intend to track down my daughter”—there was no reason to tell her about my mother’s appearance, “and I’d ask for access to your resources to aid me in that endeavor.”

  “What you’re asking is no longer as easy for the Sons of Perseus as it was prior to the latest…incident. We are considerably out of favor in the hallways of power, and one of our key allies has ceased to exist. However, perhaps my previous statement was hasty, Mr. Adler. I believe there is an opportunity that would serve my organization sufficiently to induce us to expend the political and financial capital to make your problems go away and give you access to our knowledge base.” She paused for dramatic effect, and I saw her weight shift as though she were crossing one shapely leg over the other. The desk rather ruined the effect, but I crossed my own leg in mirror of her body language and cocked an eyebrow. “Join us,” she said. “Our ranks in London are rather…depleted, especially since John Brown”—I noted her choice of names—“induced the defection of a number of our trainees and performed a literal head count reduction on a significant percentage of our fully trained agents. We take care of our own.”

  I’d have been a fool if I hadn’t expected her to make the request. It was obvious that the Sons of Perseus actively sought out people with extradimensional abilities, but given the way Jack had spoken about them, I was worried that once I walked in, I’d never be allowed out again. A freak in a cage. I’d also heard how the Senior Auditor had referred to both myself and Mia. I was desperate—just not that desperate. Yet. I still had a few cards of my own to play. Hopefully she wouldn’t know that they were a 7-2 off suit.

  “After the way you used me? If it weren’t for you, I’d never have been in any of this bullshit. You owe me. You said it yourself.” And she had—a rookie mistake. “On top of that, if I’m in jail or deported, then I’m not available next time you need help—”

  “Ahh…in case there’s another dream-based supernatural problem that is best solved by employing an untrained amateur ‘Dreamwatcher’? Yes, those just come up all the time,” she interjected. Her face remained placid, but I could hear the sneer in her voice.

  “Help taking care of some mess that you’ve stirred up. I’d threaten you by saying that I know where the bodies are buried, but we both know that I signed enough papers binding me to the Official Secrets Act that the threat doesn’t carry any weight. However, I do have something else that you want. I can help you find your runaway ‘agents,’” I said, making air quotes at this point. “Just give me some article of theirs, and I’ll find them. After what I’ve experienced, what I’ve learned, I don’t think I’m a Dreamwatcher anymore. I’m done watching. You can call me a Dreamwalker.” I rose to my feet and tossed a card on her desk. It just gave my name and personal number in big Times New Roman font, with “procurement and negotiation specialist” printed along the bottom in italics. I’d had a hundred made up for about two quid, but it was worth every penny as I walked out without another word. She’d call me.

  **********

  It was the first time that I’d been back to Saint Mary’s Hospital, in the flesh or in the Dreamscape, since I’d accidentally led half a dozen people to their deaths at the hands of a possessed coworker. The smell of disinfectant and beep of mysterious medical…apparati? appartus? apparatuses?…mystery medical machines was common to all hospitals, and following the various signs for a few minutes left me sufficiently lost that my latent guilt was pushed to the background. After asking a couple of nurses, I finally found the room that I was looking for.

  I knocked on the door and stuck my head into a fine example of what the NHS termed a semiprivate room, presumably because the extra money paid guaranteed that the number of patients jammed into the room would not exceed the amount that could fit inside of a semitruck. “Jack?”

  “Jules, whaddya want?” the Redderton private eye asked tiredly. I eased myself into the room, noting that the other two occupants were asleep.

  “I need your help. I need to find my daughter, and it isn’t something that I know how to do on my own,” I said, cutting straight to the point. There was literally no point lying to the man, and I could only imagine how tired he must be of people not telling him the truth. So in this case, my best approach was to play my cards face up on the table.

  “I like you, but there ain’t nothin’ for free, Jules,” the P.I. said.

  “I helped you get revenge on the man responsible for your brother’s death.”

  “Yeah, and ya got yer wife back, er—you know what I mean. That was our deal, and we both held up our ends of the bargain. If you got somethin’ new you need doin’, then we can discuss it and agree on a fee. My family business has existed for hundreds of years, but it won’t last too long if I start some crusade to right every wrong pro bono and all. Well, you understand, don’t ya?” he said, his voice slightly dreamy with the painkillers he’d been administered.

  I decided to lay on the guilt while the laying was good. “You know as well as I do that the insurance company demanded their money back when Dana turned up alive, and the house insurance just repaid the mortgage. I’ve got a little bit tucked away from what Dennis gave me, but most of that either went to Becky or is earmarked for lawyers to keep me from being deported. I saved your life, Jack. Help me save my little girl.”

  “Well, you only saved most of it,” he said and held up his right arm. I winced as I examined the bandage covering the stump that ended approximately three inches from where his wrist used to be. Somewhere among the bullets, grenades, zombies, and sorcerers, Jack’s hand had been badly mangled. The doctors had tried to save it, but a couple of days ago necrotizing fasciitis had set in, and they’d made the decision and lopped it off within an hour. The silence stretched for thirty seconds.

  “Please, Jack. Whatever you can do, I’ll be grateful.” I had known when I walked into the room that all I had to trade with was my relationship with the man lying across from me, and although it hurt my pride to do it, I’d beg if I thought it would help me find Olivia. “Please,” I implored, bowing my head slightly and staring, unblinking, into the other man’s eyes.

  Jack held my gaze for at least twenty seconds before he broke. “Well, Jules, all right. I’ll see if I can get one of my interns to take a look at it. I’ll just charge you expenses. Also—there is one other piece a help I can give ya.” He beckoned me in and whispered in my ear. When I was done listening to the information that Jack had provided, I was surprised to discover that a smile had crept across my face.

  **********

  “How in the hell are you still alive, you old bastard?” I asked as I sauntered into the room, only a couple of doors down from the suite in which I’d spoken to Jack Redderton.

  The old man lying supine in his hospital bed didn’t move a muscle, but a voice, stronger than I had expected, rang out: “For Zion’s sake, will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem’s sake, I will not rest, until her righteousness go forth as brightness, and her
salvation as a lamp that burns.”

  I thought about what he’d said for a minute, and then I replied, “So in other words, you’re too fucking stubborn to die until your work is done?”

  “You could put it that way, my son.”

  “Father Michael O’Hanrahan, I told you that you don’t get to call me that anymore,” I said without intonation.

  “Fair enough, Julian.”

  “So when will your work be done? What is it? Did the Sons of Perseus take you back?” I asked.

  “They’re rotten. You should know by now that the whole organization isn’t to be trusted—and they’re weak. I don’t think that they even know that I survived the Senior Auditor’s tender ministrations after he had me removed from their cells.” I looked the man up and down and flinched as I realized that, aside from the bruising that was fading slowly on his old flesh, the most serious wounds appeared to be in his hands and his feet. I recalled Jack telling me of a number of pensioners found nailed to a wall at Ham House, and I wondered if the Senior Auditor had thought it particularly witty to turn Father O.’s faith against him in a similar fashion.

  The old priest wrinkled his brow, drawing his bushy white eyebrows down like the line of an approaching thunderstorm, his scowl etched deep lines around his mouth, and his blue eyes, which I’d always considered merry before, glinted like chips of ice. “I’ll tell you why I held on. Why I refused to let go.” He leaned forward, shaking with the effort. “You are my lamp, and I’m going to teach you how to burn.”