The Black (33 page)

I finally saw signs of life from the circle of clown riders.

There were whispers and gasps but nothing I could understand. Seeing the golden orb had definitely gotten a rise out
of them. The big guy raised his hand quickly and they fell silent.

"The marks on your hands," the guy said. "How did you get them?"

I looked at my hands to see the reddish brown stains
that had come from the golden ball that shattered in the tomb.

I held out the second golden ball. "From one of these."

I tossed it into the air and caught it casually. It was a simple move, like tossing a tennis ball, but from the way everyone responded you'd think I was handling anthrax. There were
frightened shouts and gasps as several made a move forward as if trying to catch the ball before I dropped it.

Whatever this little ball was, it gave me power over these people.

"I won't drop it," I said innocently. "I've got enough stains on my hands."

There were more stunned whispers.

"
A crucible was broken?" the guy asked, his voice cracking with tension. "That is what caused the stain?"

"Yeah. There were six of them. For all I know they all broke when the earthquake hit."

The group erupted, screaming in protest. Whatever the golden balls were, they meant a lot to this bunch.

"Look," I said. "I'm going to leave now. Don't try to stop me or I'll break this thing."

"You cannot!" the big guy bellowed, but it was more like a plea than an order.

"Want to bet?" I shot back.

The guy reached up and took off his mask. I was surprised to see that he was a handsome olive-skinned man. Seeing a
normal face beneath the clown mask was almost as disturbing as anything else I'd seen. It made the situation seem less
like a nightmare, which wasn't comforting. A hallucinogenic nightmare made sense. The idea that this could actually be
real, didn't.

"Where did you find it?" he asked calmly, as if speaking
to a crazy person.

I wasn't sure what the smart answer was so I told the truth.

"In an underground tomb. In Greece."

"Why were you there?" he asked.

"My friend discovered a myth about the tomb and we
wanted to see if it was real. Simple as that."

"Do you know who lies in the tomb?" he asked.

I felt like I was being interrogated by a detective who already had all the answers but was testing to see how much
I knew.

"An ancient general named Damon," I answered.

I sensed the people around me shift uncomfortably.

I continued, "He was supposedly a sadistic killer from the time of Alexander." I held up the golden orb and said, "These things were meant to keep him in that tomb, from coming back to life, but that can't be true."

"Why is that?" the dark man asked.

"Because there wasn't a body in the tomb. There was—"

"A weapon," the guy said, before I could finish.

"Yes," I said. "A black battle-ax. You already know this,
don't you?"

"I should," the man replied. "I sealed the weapon there
myself."

I tried to process what he had just said but there was
nothing logical or understandable that I could grab on to. "This must be a horrible dream," I finally whispered.

"This is no dream," he said. "Whether by accident or
design, you broke the first crucible that sealed the Rift."

"Rift? What rift? You mean that hole under the sarcophagus? The earthquake uncovered it."

"The disruption of the seals uncovered it," the guy spat
at me, angrily. "The blood on your hands is proof of that. The blood of Alexander."

I looked at the brown stains that covered the backs of both of my hands.

"Blood of Alexander?" I repeated, numb.
"The
Alexander? This is the blood of Alexander the Great?"

"Captured in six crucibles upon his death. They alone
have sealed the Rift and kept the spirit of Damon at bay. Until now."

"But . . . Damon wasn't in the tomb. There was only the battle-ax."

"The very weapon Damon used to create the Rift. We
have guarded it for centuries for fear that this moment might come."

I staggered backward as if his words were physically pummeling me.

"What moment?" I mumbled. "What happened?"

"You have uncovered the Rift," he said. "And with the destruction of a crucible you have loosened our grip on Damon. He will return now. There is no doubt of that. And
he will do everything in his power to control the Rift."

"Tell me what the Rift is," I begged.

"It is a portal that Damon will try to use to travel back along the Morpheus Road."

"Morpheus Road?" I asked, delirious. "What is that?"

"The byway between life and death."

"Life and death," I repeated, numb. "I fell into the Rift. Does that mean—"

"You have left the Light and entered the Black. You may
have taken an unnatural route, but the result is as you suspect."

"So I'm . . . dead?"

"You have moved into the next life, as we all have."

"Who are you people?" I demanded.

"I am Adeipho. In life I was an ally of Damon's. A friend. But we took different paths and now find ourselves here. We
all
find ourselves here. Our stories may be different but fate has brought us together for a common purpose. We protect the
balance between life and death by guarding the Rift. And now that challenge has become even greater, thanks
to you."

"But . . . I didn't intend to break anything. Or reveal any rift."

"But you have."

Adeipho lunged out and grabbed my hand, holding it up for me to see.

"You have been marked with the blood of Alexander and have brought a crucible into the Black. The course of your future has been set. When Damon comes to claim the Rift, and he will, you will be here with us to stop him.

"What? No! I'm not stopping anybody!"

"Then Damon of Epirus will be free once again in the Light and the blood you have on your hands will be but a drop compared to the destruction he will bring to the life you have left behind."

21

"I know that picture you took," I said. "Of the temple. It's hanging on Marsh's bedroom wall."

"That means my camera survived, even if I didn't," Ree said wistfully.

She told me her story as we walked through her vision of Grand Central, back to her private
train. So much of what she said was incredible, but it answered a lot of questions.

"How did you end up in charge here?" I asked.

She held up her stained hand. "I've been marked. Or blessed. Or cursed. Depends on how you see it. Alexander's blood is sacred to these people so I guess you'd call me a living crucible."

"Yeah, if you were living," I corrected.

"Adeipho is their practical leader but they look to me for spiritual guidance. It's why the Rift is in my vision. And
you know what? That's okay. After what happened it's the least I can do."

"So my best friend's mom is responsible for keeping a murderous spirit from ripping open a hole between the worlds of the living and the dead that would let him return to the Light and pick up where he left off centuries ago?"

"Uh, yes, that pretty much sums it up," she said.

"Oh. Just checking." I dropped down into one of the cushy chairs in the subway train and added, "I knew you weren't like the other moms, but geez, I didn't see this one coming."

"But the Rift was already open," she said. "I was just foolish enough to uncover it. I think it's what started the whole myth about the Oracle of the Dead. All those pilgrims who were tricked into thinking they were visiting their dead ancestors didn't realize there was an actual opening to the next life only a few hundred yards away."

"That Damon created," I said.

"Yes. With the poleax. The ancients believed that the essence of a victim's spirit remains with the weapon that took their life. Damon murdered thousands, so do the math. The last time he used it was
to defend himself when his own people turned on him."

"Why did that happen?"

"Apparently Damon was a brilliant general but he was more about forming battle strategy than actually doing any fighting himself. He would direct his troops from somewhere safe rather than lead them into battle, which is what Alexander and Adeipho did."

"So he was a coward?"

"Maybe, but a successful one. He had many victories, but never received the accolades that Alexander or Adeipho did because he never got blood on his own hands."

"Yeah, except when he was executing prisoners or eating the hearts of generals. Did that really happen?"

Ree shrugged. "So they tell me."

"Man," was all I could say.

"Living in the shadows of Alexander and Adeipho made him resentful and angry. When Alexander died, he tried to take control of the entire army. It led to a showdown between those loyal to Damon and those who sided with Adeipho. In the course of the fight, Damon used the power of the poleax to create the Rift, sending many of Adeipho's men into the Black. But Adeipho had greater numbers and Damon's own men became victims and tumbled through the Rift as well. It finally came down to Damon and Adeipho. Damon was no match for him and Adeipho sent him through the Rift."

"So Adeipho was the last man standing?"

"Yes. He hid the Rift by building the catacombs and a tomb that supposedly held Damon's remains. But
there were no remains. The tomb contained the poleax, along with the six crucibles with Alexander's blood."

"And the blood is what kept Damon away?" I asked.

"The ancients had beliefs and customs that we can't begin to understand."

"You get no argument from me. I totally buy it."

Ree said, "The last act of Adeipho's life was to move through the Rift himself."

"Seriously? He chased Damon into the grave?"

Ree nodded. "Adeipho is a noble soldier. He's been in the Black ever since, protecting the Rift, and the poleax, from Damon."

"So all those guys on bikes are Adeipho's original soldiers?"

"Not all. Many spirits have found their way here over the centuries. Some simply pass through, while others chose to stay and become Guardians."

"What's with the clown masks?" I asked.

"Anonymity. Many spirits stumble upon this vision accidently and are encouraged to move on. But not everyone is so innocent. Damon has sent scouts. The Guardians do not want to put their loved ones in danger, either in the Black or the Light, so we wear the masks. So far it hasn't been a problem because none of Damon's scouts have escaped."

"What happened to them?"

"You've seen what the black swords can do," she said
soberly.

"They're spirit-killers," I said. "How is that possible?"

"They came through the Rift during the original battle. They are unnatural to the Black, which makes them dangerous. Damon's soldiers have several. As do Adeipho's men. Without them we would not be able to protect the Rift. The standoff has lasted for centuries and would have continued . . . if I hadn't broken that first crucible."

"But why was that such a big deal?" I asked.

"It empowered Damon and put him on the trail of the poleax. Until Ennis and I entered that tomb and broke the crucible, Damon had no idea where it was because the power of the crucibles shielded him from seeing it."

"He still doesn't know where it is," I said. "That's why he's haunting Marsh.

It was
Ree's
turn to sit down. "Tell me what's been happening," she said.

"Why can't you see for yourself?"

Her eyes began to well up. "I told you, we're in isolation here. My vision acts as a buffer between the Light and the rest of the Black."

"Because of the Rift?" I asked.

"Yes. The very existence of the Rift threatens the natural order of life and death. Imagine if spirits could travel freely between both worlds."

"But we can," I argued.

"Not as physical beings."

"Whoa, you mean if a spirit went through the Rift, they'd become physical beings again?"

"That's the theory. Nobody has tried. The Guardians have seen to that."

I was beginning to understand how Damon planned on getting his life back, and giving me mine.

Ree added, "Spirits can observe the Light and learn from their former lives, but they can't play a physical role."

"Tell that to Damon. He
freakin'
killed
me and he's been tormenting Marsh. I don't understand why he thinks Marsh can help him find a weapon buried in Greece."