Vesik 04 - This Broken World (22 page)

I thought back to what Foster had said about Jasper. A reaper. A goddamned reaper. I shook my head. I wished I could ask Koda about reapers. That old ghost would answer anything you asked him, no matter how mind-scarring the answer may be. And then there was the book Nixie had given me. What else did Koda know about the Old Man?

I glanced into the back seat at Zola. Her chin rested on her fist as she stared out the window.

“Do you know where Koda is?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him since he gave me the manuscript.”

Zola turned her head and held my gaze. The metal in her braids tinkled as she cocked her head to one side.

“And why would you be asking of Koda now?” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Some new question?”

I nodded and gestured at the backpack beside her. She handed it up between the seats. I unzipped it and slid the book Nixie had given me out of one of the inner pouches.

“Oh, Damian,” Zola said as she carefully lifted the book from my hands. “Did Nixie get this for you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how few of these exist?” she asked.

I nodded. “Nixie said they didn’t make many to begin with, and they only know of three still in existence.”

Zola’s voice was almost reverent as she read the title aloud, “The Deathspeaker, Leviticus Aureas, and the Fall of Atlantis.”

Foster hopped up from the dashboard. “Holy shit. I didn’t think
any
of those were left.”

“Atlantis?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “The Old Man sank it back in the day.”

She cursed and muttered something I couldn’t make out before she finally said, “I’m glad he’s on our side.”

“No shit,” Foster and I said together.

“That’s why I was asking about Koda. I thought he might have some more insight into the Old Man.”

“You have touched the darkest part of the Old Man with your necromancy. You have more insight into him than most would ever want to have.”

“Hadn’t really thought about it like that,” I said, turning my attention back to the flat landscape.

Zola started reading the old book, and the car fell silent again. I couldn’t keep thoughts of the coming war out of my mind. What if we failed? What if Ezekiel unleashed the old and eldritch things onto our world? What if we won? Ezekiel himself was a Seal. What would
we
be unleashing?

I took a deep breath and tried not to think too much as Sam started humming along with some horrendously catchy pop song on the radio. I smiled at my sister and let my eyes fall closed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“D
emon! Wake up!”

Something hit my arm like a sledgehammer. I pried one eye open and found Sam grinning at me.

“We’re in Lexington.”

“What?” I said.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Well, just outside of Lexington in Frankfort. We made awesome time.”

“And we’re still alive,” Zola said. She opened the back door.

“Only three or four near-death moments,” Foster said. “Usually have more than that just driving through Saint Charles with Sam.”

Sam narrowed her eyes and Foster flashed her a grin.

A sign in the gas station window said “Hot Pretzels.”

“Pretzels,” I said from my half-awake state. I stumbled out the door and squinted in the still-bright sun.

“Ah swear you could wake him from a coma with food alone.”

I hopped onto the curb and said, “I heard that.” I held the glass door for Sam and Zola. Foster glided through with me.

We all headed straight for the restrooms. That done, I scoped out the next priority. “Ah, yes.” I opened one of the cooler doors and lifted out two four-packs of Frappuccino.

I set the blessed Frappuccino on the counter while I grabbed some napkins and a few hot pretzels.

“Grab some water, boy,” Zola said as I checked out.

“Good idea.” I handed her the Frappuccino. The clerk rang up four bottled waters along with the rest of our stuff and we hauled our loot to the door.

“I’ll wait for Sam,” Foster said.

I only nodded, since the cashier was still staring at us. I pushed the door open with my back and held it for Zola.

Once we were back in the car, I offered one of the pretzels to Zola.

She shook her head. “Ah’ll stick with Frank’s jerky.”

“Ooo, you brought some?”

She lifted a gallon bag out of the back of Sam’s seat. It was filled with jerky. She opened the bag, and pulled an inner bag out, and then another. When she finally cracked open the bag with the jerky in it, I thought my eyes might melt.

“Just a light snack, I see.”

She laughed and started gnawing through a thick chunk of beef.

I could smell the heat from the front, but I still managed to focus on the pretzels. Granted, they were no Auntie Anne’s, but they were soft, warm, and salty. Sam was still walking around inside the store. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

I shifted in my seat so I could get a better view of the back. “Zola,” I said, and I waited for her to look up at me.

“What is it?”

“Have you read all of Philip’s journal?”

“No,” she said.

“I think … I think you should.” I attacked the pretzel again. “At some level, I think he knew what Ezekiel was doing was wrong.”

Why?” she asked. “What else do Ah need to know?”

I fiddled with the napkin that had been wrapped around the pretzel. “Up until some of the last entries in his journal, it seemed like everything he was doing he thought he was doing for you.”

“Ah know, Damian. Ah know.”

“If that’s true, why would he have let Agnes hurt you? It makes no sense.”

“To us?” she said. “No, it does not make sense. To a man entirely focused on one mad quest? The ends always justify the means.” There was a sadness to her voice, but there was also an acceptance. I think on some level she knew she had to kill Philip when she did, but she also remembered the man he used to be.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked with a small frown.

I smiled. “I was just thinking about some of the stories you used to tell us.”

She nodded. “The past is the past, Damian. Ah’m grateful for the good memories. Philip died the moment he passed judgment on the world. Ah just provided the burial service.”

I didn’t say anything as Zola handed me a Frappuccino. I turned around and saw Sam walking back from the gas station, Foster fluttering beside her. She had a gummy worm hanging out the side of her mouth.

“That
is what took so long?” I asked as she sat down and Foster resumed his post on the dashboard.

“I was looking for the good kind.” She held up the bag. “They had the good kind.”

“Have some pretzel too. Zola’s dieting.”

Foster snickered and I didn’t even see the hand snap forward from the backseat to box my ear.

“Oww.”

“You just be glad we need you in working order. Ah would have done more than smack you.”

Sam laughed as we pulled out of the parking lot. I glanced at Zola, and she wore a small smile. Things felt right as Foster cut little chunks of pretzel off with his sword. Sam didn’t even tell him how gross it was.

***

It wasn’t long before we turned onto a narrow drive called Duncan Road. Ancient trees and wide, green fields flanked us on either side. The leaves were turning, and the autumn reds and yellows seemed more vibrant than what I was used to in Missouri.

“Where are we going?” I asked as Zola told Sam to turn on a road called McCracken Pike.

“It’s an old distillery,” Zola said.

The road was narrow and winding enough that even Sam almost slowed down enough to match the speed limit.

“There,” Zola said as we rounded a corner. “Pull in there.”

I could make out some long, ancient buildings at the base of a large hill. Black roofs and barred windows were set into weathered stone, three stories high. There were some newer structures further away, but the old gray shutters flanking each window kept my attention on their elders.

Something moved in my peripheral vision. My head snapped to the right, but whatever had been there in the third story window was gone.

“Did you see that?” I asked.

“Didn’t get a good look,” Zola said. “Something was up there.”

A dark form peeked around the far edge of the stone building and vanished again.

“What the hell?” I said.

“Stop the car,” Zola said.

Sam started to slow. We were still up on a slight hill that sloped down and vanished into what looked like a shallow creek. Something moved, deep within the shadows.

“Aeros?” I reached out to open the door. “Who’s with him?”

“Looks like Alan,” Foster said. “Why is he here and not with the wolves?”

“Let’s find out.” I hopped out of the SUV as soon as it came to a halt.

“Ah’ll check the building,” Zola said.

I nodded. “Sam, wait here until we know what the hell is going on.”

“Seriously?” Sam said. “Don’t go into the unknown. Wait here in the empty car? Oh, and for the record, I’m a
vampire.”

I blinked.

“I’ll go with Zola and Sam,” Foster said. He glided out of the SUV behind Zola.

“Damn straight,” Sam muttered. She hopped out and slammed her door.

“I’ll, uh, meet you down there,” I said.

Sam cocked an eyebrow as she walked by.

I waved once to Aeros and he waved back with one rocky arm. I jogged down the hill. The closer I got, the better everything smelled. I didn’t know what, exactly, they were distilling, but damn it smelled good. A rich, yeasty scent followed the light breeze.

I walked along what looked like train tracks, but a glance down the tracks showed barrels sitting on them instead. I guessed it was some rudimentary conveyance system running between the buildings, but I didn’t really know.

Up close, the buildings were obviously old. If I had to guess, I would have said right around the time of the Civil War. The stone wasn’t uniform, and I was amazed that the builders had managed to assemble a rectangular structure out of the motley assortment of roughly hewn stone.

I turned to my right at the next corner, and could clearly see Aeros down in a shallow creek bed. Alan was talking to him from the edge of the creek, just past what appeared to be a very large, stone-lined well.

“Alan.” I smiled at the hulking werewolf.

He extended his hand and our forearms smacked together. “Good to see you, Damian.”

“Likewise,” I said. My eyes trailed to Aeros. The water was quiet, splashing slightly as it flowed around his massive legs.

The Old God nodded to me and I nodded back. His hands were tucked behind him, which I thought was odd.

“Have either of you noticed some shadows creeping around this place? We saw something in the window when we pulled in.” I glanced between the two.

“Yes,” Aeros said. “He is nothing to be concerned with.” His red granite form was a stark contrast to the pale stone of the short bluff behind him. Aeros’s face fractured into a craggy grin as I splashed down into the shallow water. The cold soaked into my shoes. A crawfish scuttled backwards on a flurry of legs and disappeared into a submerged log.

I crossed my arms and cocked an eyebrow. Sam wasn’t the only one who knew eyebrow warfare. “And what, exactly, are you not telling us? And why, exactly, didn’t Glenn just tell us to meet you here?”

Alan chuckled at our exchange.

“Damian,” the old rock pile said. His voice was incredibly deep, and it vibrated the earth and water around me. “Is Samantha with you?”

I raised both my eyebrows. “Yeah, you want me to get her?” I asked, pointing toward the one of the old buildings.

The boulder that made up the god’s head ground as he nodded.

“We’re safe here?” When he nodded again, I turned around, cupped my hands over my mouth and yelled. “Hey, Sam!”

A faint clack echoed off the buildings as a heavy door fell closed in the distance.

“I could have done that,” Aeros said, his hands still behind his back.

Sam skidded to the edge of the creek. “What’s up?”

“Greetings, Samantha.”

“Greetings, rock,” Sam said, leaning forward. “Has my brother irritated you enough yet to be smashed into the ground and have his name carved into your wall?”

Aeros laughed quietly, but the sound still sent vibrations through the cold water. The fish that were slowly regrouping around us scattered. “I wanted to introduce you to a friend. An ally, really.”

He shifted his hands out from behind his back. In his right palm sat the largest, furriest, toothiest dark gray dust bunny you could ever imagine.

“His name is—”

“Jasper!” Sam said with a squeal. She jumped down into the creek beside Aeros and held out her hands.

The amorphous pile of fur and lint contracted and then exploded out of Aeros’s palm. Sam caught it mid-flight and it swarmed around her. Jasper chittered and clicked as he rubbed against Sam’s cheek and ran around her neck.

“He said he knew you,” Aeros said. “I did not particularly believe that until now.”

“You can understand him?” Sam asked.

Aeros nodded. “It is a dead language.” He paused and ground his rocky palms together. “I am understating the truth. Jasper is ancient.”

“Ancient compared to us?” I asked.

“Ancient compared to the universe,” Aeros said.

A whirring series of buzzes and clicks erupted from the lint ball. Jasper sat in Sam’s hands, a perfect gray sphere with two large, unblinking black eyes.

“He says we do not have time for the long stories, and to give you the shorter version.”

“Can he understand us?” I asked.

“Of course he can,” Sam said as she ran her fingers over the top of the blob. Little bits of gray fluff rose up to meet her fingers as she stroked his back.

“Oh yes,” Aeros said.

“Bastard,” I said with a smile.

The sphere of furry lint parted and showed me its many rows of teeth. A shiny, metallic gleam reflected the surface of the water below him. For the first time, I realized he probably could have bitten my hand off when we were kids, if he’d wanted to. My fingers flexed at the thought.