Green: The Beginning and the End (9 page)

8

She listened as he recounted stories of the monastery in Paradise, Colorado, where he first found the Books of History as a boy. And she knew that she, like Billy, had to touch one of these books if it was the last thing she did before dying.

She heard him speak of the large worms in the endless tunnels beneath the monastery, and she fought off the desire to charter a jet on the spot, fly to Paradise, and see for herself if any of these worms still survived. They, like the books, had certainly been spawned by another world. Yet they were here, in this reality?

But what made her mouth dry was Billy’s claim that Thomas wasn’t the only one who’d crossed the bridge into this other reality or, for that matter, come back
from
the future.

Kara had gone. And returned.

Monique, her very own mother, had gone. And returned.

How? Using Thomas’s blood. The idea, once it sank in, was too much to absorb in one sitting.

“You mean, when you fall asleep—”

“While in contact with Thomas’s blood,” Billy interrupted, making a show of cutting his finger with a fingernail. “More accurately, while your blood is in contact with Thomas’s blood.”

“And you just wake up in this other place?”

“It sounds crazy, but there’s plenty of proof. Me, for starters. The books—”

“Until you fall asleep there, in which case you wake up here,” Janae said, on her own track. “As if the whole thing was just a dream. Only it isn’t a dream at all.”

“Correct. That’s what I’ve pieced together so far.”

“And you know, with certainty, that this blood still exists?”

“How many times do you need me to say it, Janae? You think I’ve done all of this, come all this way, because I saw your picture in
People
magazine and decided I had to have you? As if I said to myself, ‘I know, I’ll make up stories about books that can transport you between realities and pretend to be able to read her thoughts, that’ll impress her’?”

Janae eyed him, captivated by the notion that he was reading her mind this very moment. She stood and brushed by him, smiling coyly. There was more about Billy that attracted her, and it wasn’t simply his promise of adventure. He brought out the animal in her. Maybe she should give it to him without pretending.

She reached back for his hand. “Walk with me.”

He did so willingly, and they meandered from the suite, still hand in hand.

“From now on this stays between us,” she said. “You’ll get nothing from my mother, you know that.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. She hasn’t mentioned a word of this to me, which can only mean she’s hidden the truth for good reasons.”

“Keeping to ourselves won’t get us what we need.”

“Of course not, darling. I can get us that. But I need to know that I can trust you.”

“Trust me? I’m the one sharing secrets here.”

She placed her free hand on his chest and gently stopped him. “Look inside me. Tell me I’m not sharing my deepest secrets with you.”

Billy’s eyes stared into hers. She thought about her father, what she knew, which wasn’t much and had been closely guarded. And she told Billy with her mind that she found him exhilarating.

Images of her past skipped through her mind: the first time she’d overseen a board meeting at age twenty-one, her first lover, the time she’d been busted in New York for drug possession and thrown in jail for the night. But her mind finally rested on him. On Billy. On this man who’d fallen from the sky and in a few short hours managed to strip her of her secrets.

She found him stimulating. Enticing. Nearly irresistible. Not only physically, but spiritually. Emotionally. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t care that she didn’t understand.

“You see? You can see into my heart and know that you can trust me. And I have to know that I can trust you as well.”

She still held his hand in hers, and she noted that it was clammy. But then, she was accustomed to the effect she had on men.

“Our secret,” she said, swallowing.

He cleared his throat. “Our secret.”

“I hope I can trust you.” She kissed him lightly on his lips and turned to lead him on. But Billy pulled back.

His eyes glanced nervously at the atrium beyond her. “Where are we going?”

Janae turned back. “You don’t know? You haven’t read my mind?”

“I do know. Learning to live with my abilities has taught me to . . . well, you know . . . go with the flow.”

“By pretending not to know. Because you don’t want to come off as uppity by showing your superiority over everyone else in the room. Right?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same way half the time.”

“Then you’ll understand when I say that I have no interest in wandering around the compound, pretending to be interested in the lay of the land. It’s a waste of time.”

“A woman needs time—”

“I don’t have time.”

Her eyes searched his. “That’s how you want to play?”

“I don’t want to play. This need has been hunting me down for over a year. It’s like a presence. I have to know if it’s here.”

The blood.

Billy turned and walked back toward the guest suite.

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t know where it is, I can see that much. And you don’t have any idea how to get it.”

How rude! Where’d he grown the gall to think he could just waltz away without any regard for his host, a host who’d practically stripped herself bare for him? He was exasperating.

He was . . . like her.

“Slow down,” she snapped, heading after him into the rooms. “Just take a deep breath. Fine.” She shut the main door to the suite. “I’m as eager as you are, but—”

“You’ve known about the books for a few hours,” he said, spinning back. “Don’t talk to me about how eager you are. The idea that these books exist would be a heady thought for anyone, but why are you so . . . crazy about this? I can’t see it in your mind, and frankly it’s a bit disturbing.”

It was a fair question. She told the truth. No use pretending with him. “I don’t know.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “And that’s the scariest part. It makes your longing almost . . . inhuman.”

She calmed herself. “What do you expect from me? You tell me all of this and expect me to tap my fingers on the table and agree to help you?”

“Pretty much. Yes.”

“Please. A hundred dots have connected in my head, and you want me to take a nap?”

“No dots have connected in your head, Janae. That’s the problem. It hasn’t turned on the lights in your head. I would be able to see that. But when I look inside you, I see something else.”

“Is that so? And what do you see?”

“Your heart. Your desires. They’re all black.”

“Like yours,” she said, because she could think of no defense. What he said was preposterous. She was no more evil than the next person.

Billy turned away and walked to one of the windows overlooking the lawn. “I’ve been here before. Staring down this kind of blackness.”

“But your heart is white now?” She walked up behind him and traced the muscles of his back with her fingers. “You’re afraid that naughty Janae will bring it all back? Hmm? Is that it?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. It just reminds me that what we’re doing—what I’m doing—isn’t right.” Billy turned around, and she saw that his eyes were misty. “But I can’t seem to help it. The power that’s in that blood . . . those books . . . you have no idea how much damage it can bring.” He looked away, and a tear snaked down his cheek.

For a moment she thought he might be talking himself out of everything he’d just convinced her to do. Panic swarmed her mind. She couldn’t let him do that.

Why not, Janae? What is happening to you?

She was certain about one thing: Billy could not leave this place until she knew everything that he knew. And more.

She had to find that blood. Alone, if it had to be that way.

“I know how you feel,” she started. Then, “Actually I don’t. I don’t share your regret. But you’re right, I have desires in me that I can’t understand. And I believe you share those same desires.”

Janae stepped around him, dragging her fingernails delicately over his neck and cheek. She saw light freckles spotting the flesh under his hair when she brushed it away. The vein on his throat stood out, and she touched it gently.

“If your desires are like mine, then you won’t be able to resist them,” she said. “It’s your destiny, to find this blood. To cross over.”

Billy looked at her for a moment, then swallowed and cleared his throat.

“You’re right. I know. But you’re the first person I’ve met who knows it as well as I do. When I look into your eyes I feel like I’m looking into myself, and it’s all a bit disturbing.”

Janae felt drawn to his pale neck, so soft and tender, so bare, so full of life. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, touching his lobe with her lips.

“Then trust me, Billy. We’re the same, you and I. We are meant to be together in more ways than one.”

She was momentarily distracted by her own audacity, her flagrant attempt at seduction. This wasn’t typical.

But another thought eased her concern. Just exactly who was seducing whom here? Billy had swept her off her feet in a matter of hours. Was he playing her?

She pulled away and walked to a crystal decanter. Poured herself a drink and threw it back in one swallow. When she turned back to him, he was staring at her, expressionless. Reading her. His advantage over her was unfair.

It was also part of what made him irresistible.

“So,” she said, pouring another drink. “What is it? Are we changing our minds?”

“I wasn’t aware we’d made up our minds,” he said, crossing to the decanter. He took the glass from her hand and matched her slug. Set it down with a
thunk
.

“Rumor has it that Thomas wasn’t the only one to cross over into this world,” he said softly, as if what he would tell her now was of greatest importance. He stepped to a large, plum-colored wingback chair, sat down, and crossed his legs. “Several others have come and gone. But I’ve learned that one came and stayed. A wraith called a Shataiki in that world. His name was Alucard, and he was a creature of the night.”

She felt her chest tighten. “Okay, now you’ve lost me,” she said, but that’s not what she was thinking. She turned her eyes away so he couldn’t see into her mind. “What do you mean, a creature of the night?”

“I don’t know much. But I know they spread their seed through blood.”

“Through blood?”

“The information is sketchy, but yes. I think so. It’s how they reproduce.”

She shoved her thoughts out before he could steal them from her mind.

“Unless you think we can tie my mother down and pry her eyes open so you can plunder her mind, there’s only one way to find out if she knows where the blood is.”

“I’ve already considered that,” Billy said.

“You don’t want to try. Trust me. She’ll have you dead or behind bars before you can use what you learn.”

“Exactly.”

“She has to retrieve the blood willingly.”

“Clearly.”

Janae turned. “I know how to do that.” Then she looked into his eyes and let him take her knowledge.

This time she could almost feel his invasive gaze. His eyes widened slowly and he blinked twice.

Billy stood to his feet, face white.

“Seriously?”

“I should know. It’s my lab.”

“Raison Strain B?”

“A mutation of the virus that turned the world upside down thirty years ago. It’s not airborne. But there’s no known antivirus. If we inject ourselves with it . . .”

“She’ll be forced to try Thomas’s blood, because it proved resistant to the original virus,” Billy finished. “And if she doesn’t have the blood? Or if it fails?”

She reached for the decanter and said what he already knew because a thing like this needed to be said aloud.

“Then we both die.”

9

The Future

What he did know was that the whole plateau stank of rotting Scab flesh.

The four albinos had crossed the gorges and now sat on their horses, peering into the high place with a red sun sinking to the west. Behind them, canyons offered cover from any attack.

Ahead, barren ground up to a single row of tall boulders that ringed Ba’al Bek’s famed stone altar. This was the first time he’d seen the altar. The Circle had gone deep into the desert for nearly six years after Qurong turned his full wrath on them.

“We have company,” Mikil said.

Thomas looked up at the far rim and saw the purple banner sticking over the crest. Then more banners, then heads and horses.

“Qurong’s taken up the challenge,” Mikil said. “I don’t like this, Thomas. This can’t be good.”

The Horde marched in two columns, each led by a contingent of two dozen Throaters, then the priests. Dozens of priests. They kept coming, two hundred priests or more, by Thomas’s reckoning.

Dear Elyon, what have I done?

Ba’al sat in a litter, rocking on the shoulders of eight servants. Qurong rode tall on a black stallion opposite the dark priest, dressed in full battle gear. His own guard, thirty or forty from the Scab cavalry, rode on either side of him. They bore swords, battle axes, sickles, and perhaps the most dreaded weapon in their arsenal, a simple chain with two spiked balls that could be thrown to take down prey from fifty yards. Mace.

The rattling of a thousand bells on the edges of the priests’ robes sounded like a desert full of cicadas in the early evening.

“We’re mice among lions,” Jamous said. “Are you sure about this, Thomas?”

“I thought you said priests only.” Mikil had faced her share of long odds, but never this and not for many years. “They’ve brought half a battalion!”

“It’s for their defense, not to take us out,” Thomas said.

Samuel’s mount stamped its feet. A grin twisted his face. “They still fear us. What did I tell you? We could take them.”

“Four against hundreds?” Mikil scoffed. “Even in our ‘full glory’ as you like to call it, these would have been unfeasible odds.”

“Impossible,” Jamous mumbled.

Samuel came alive in the presence of his enemies. “The priests are unarmed. We could at least take Qurong and that witch. That would set the Horde far back. Without a head, the snakes crawl into their holes.”

Thomas almost pointed out that Samuel’s foolishness had brought them here in the first place. Or that a dead high priest would only be replaced by another live one. Or that these were not their true enemies. The real enemy was peering at them from his hidden perch on the crest somewhere. Teeleh and his host from hell, the Shataiki.

But Samuel doubted Teeleh and the Shataiki and even Elyon, for that matter.

Thomas headed his horse down the slope.

“You’re sure, Thomas?” Mikil kicked her horse to follow.

Thomas kept his eyes on the entourage snaking over the crest. Bulls pulled six large chests on carts. Then the goats trotted in. He wasn’t sure what Ba’al had up his sleeve, but he doubted Teeleh had a taste for goats. This was all for show.

“Thomas.” Mikil drew her horse abreast his. “Please tell me you’ve thought this through.”

“You’re asking me now? Isn’t it a bit late?”

“I didn’t believe it would come to this. You’ve been brooding.”

“My mood has just lightened, Mikil. For the first time in far too long I feel like I have nothing to lose.”

“Only your faith,” Samuel said, pulling abreast.

“If Elyon doesn’t show himself tonight, it only means that he wants me dead,” Thomas said.

“And the Horde as well.”

Thomas gave him that. “If I lose this challenge, then I will assume the way of peace has passed, and I will take down as many Horde as I can before my skin turns.”

“Thomas Hunter will kill again?” Samuel said. “Did I hear that right?”

“Thomas Hunter will die. Again.”

“You’ll tell them where our camps are?”

“As promised.”

They headed into Ba’al Bek, four abreast, facing an entourage that dwarfed them.

“And if you succeed in this challenge,” Mikil said, “if Elyon shows himself, you actually expect that Qurong will agree to come with us and drown?”

“He’s agreed already.”

“He’ll betray you,” Samuel said. “But I don’t think you have much worry there; he isn’t going to lose this challenge.”

Thomas looked at his son. “Maybe not. But if he does lose, I’ll have won my own son back, and that for me is worth his betrayal.”

Samuel tried to smile. His twisted lips looked stupid on his crimson face.

The tall rocks that circled the altar rose above them now, red in the sunset. The light would be gone within the hour. Thomas would have preferred to confront Ba’al in broad daylight, but it was what it was.

Qurong and his dark priest had reached the high place and waited for the host of priests to take up their position on the altar’s left. The Throaters were fanning out on either side as if they expected an attack from the high ground.

“Imagine what we could do with a dozen archers,” Samuel said, scanning the crater’s rim. “We could make pin cushions out of them in a matter of minutes.”

He was right. A dozen years ago, this setup would have provided the perfect ambush for the Forest Guard. Thomas understood Samuel’s desires to destroy his enemies. It was the most natural instinct man possessed.

Love the enemy. This was the scandalous teaching of Elyon. It went completely against human nature.

It struck Thomas then that Eram, the half-breed from the north, could just as easily sweep in with his army, surround the crater, and destroy all of his enemies—both the albinos and the leader of the Horde—in one fell swoop.

“Tell us what to do.” Mikil spoke quickly, uneasy.

“I will. As soon as I know.”

“Elyon help us all.”

“Isn’t that the idea? To see if those words have any meaning?”

Thomas led the four past the ring of boulders like an arrow into the heart of darkness. It had been a while since Thomas had been so close to Scab flesh. He’d forgotten just how rancid it was. Only as he drew closer did he see the reason: none of the priests had applied the morst paste.

He pulled up and faced Ba’al, who still sat on his cushioned throne under the silk canopy. His servants had set him down. Qurong gazed off to his right, refusing to dignify them with a square look. His general, the one named Cassak if Thomas was right, sat in stoic silence beside him, eyes on Ba’al.

Who led the Horde these days, anyway? Ba’al or Qurong?

Both, he guessed. The thin serpent wielded Teeleh’s power over the people, and the muscled warrior wielded the sword.

Ba’al stood and slinked forward. A black silk dress clung to his body from his armpits to his heels. A purple sash wrapped around his neck hung down to his belly. But his shoulders were bare, white, bony.

Three scars marked his forehead. All the others bore the same marks, something Thomas’s scouts first reported about a year ago.

“I’ve come to speak to Qurong,” Thomas said. “Not to his servant.”

Ba’al made no show of being bothered by this underhanded insult, but Qurong would take note.

“Welcome, pale one,” the dark priest said. “The supreme commander, ruler of humans, servant of Teeleh our master has accepted your challenge.”

“Then let the master speak for himself. Is he your puppet?”

This time the witch’s left eyelid twitched. “Don’t assume that all men would stoop to speak to you, albino,” Ba’al said.

“But you do. For more than ten years I’ve evaded the death sentence placed upon me and my wife . . . I think that earns me the right to be acknowledged by the ruler of this earth.” Thomas watched Qurong as he spoke.

“Then perhaps you overestimate yourself as much as you overestimate your God.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Thomas said. “Don’t get your silk dress all hitched up for the dance just yet. I insist on speaking to your leader.”

Ba’al stared. His gray eyes betrayed no emotion, no resentment, no sign that Thomas offended him. This was a wicked man, more Shataiki than human, Thomas thought. The night seemed to have turned inordinately cold.

“Can we please dispense with all the fancy footwork?” Qurong said, eyeing Thomas for the first time. “You’ve cast a challenge, I’ve accepted. My priest will invoke the power of Teeleh and you will call on your God. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to accommodate this game of yours. I suggest we get started. What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Anything your dark priest would like.”

None of the three behind Thomas spoke a word or moved. Ba’al kept his haunting, unblinking stare on him. With a little imagination Thomas could see the conniving brain behind those eyes spinning like a beetle tied to a string. For a long time the only sound came from the occasional snorting or shifting of a Throater’s horse.

“Is that your son?” Ba’al asked, looking at Samuel.

“I see you’ve taken to mutilating your foreheads,” Thomas said. “The mark of your beast, is that it?”

The white wraith in human form named Ba’al, who was the wickedest of all Horde, raised his hand and extended a thin finger to the horizon. “From the east the pale one will bring peace and command the sky. He will purge the land with a river of blood in the valley of Miggdon. We will offer ourselves to him on that day of reckoning. The question is, will you?”

“No. We will not. We submit to Elyon and to no one else.”

The priest eyed him. His mouth was paper thin, scarcely more than flaps of white flesh to keep the bugs from his teeth. He raised one hand by his head and snapped fingers so delicate Thomas wondered how the snap alone didn’t break them.

“We shall see, albino.”

Two of the priests hurried over to one of the bull-drawn carts. While one unhitched the beast, the other pulled a large, white silk blanket from the chest. Then a silver goblet.

The rest watched, bare of emotion, as the two priests urged the bull forward, tied it to one of four bronze rings on the altar, and draped the white blanket over the beast’s back. One of them strapped a ruby-colored cushion on top. A saddle. The priests hurried back to their posts, bells jangling with the shuffle of their feet. The whole operation took two dozen seconds, no more.

What Ba’al could possibly mean to demonstrate by saddling up a bull was beyond Thomas, but the man’s continuous, unwavering stare didn’t sit well with him.

“Do you like the sight of blood, Thomas?” Ba’al asked.

“Not particularly.”
Dear Elyon, do not keep your face hidden now, not now. The whole world is watching, and I’m powerless
. Then, as an afterthought:
Give the word and I will take this man’s head from his shoulders for you.

“I suggest you get used to it, albino. Because our god demands blood. Pools of blood. Rivers of blood. Blood from the necks of our own.”

“Your god, Teeleh”—Thomas spat to one side—“may be a blood-thirsty—”

Ba’al moved while Thomas spoke, snatching a hidden sword from his back, slashing down with lightning speed. The blade struck the bull on its spine, just above the shoulder blades, and cut cleanly through its neck.

Samuel’s sword scraped its scabbard as he withdrew it.

The bull’s head dropped from its torso and landed on the earth with a dull
thump
. For a long moment, the animal stood still, unaware of the blood that pumped from its arteries onto the ground. Then it took a half step and collapsed.

A soft moan broke from the two hundred priests, now swaying in their black robes. The slaying happened so quickly that Thomas didn’t think to react.

Ba’al spread his arms wide and spoke to the darkening sky. “Accept my offering, Teeleh, one and true god of all that lives and breathes, dragon of the sky. May your vengeance find fulfillment through my hands.”

He lowered his head and glared at Thomas. “Tell your friends to drop their weapons.”

The moans ceased.

“Not for you. Not for any Scab,” Samuel spat.

Ba’al dropped his own blade. “Tell him.”

“Drop it, Samuel.”

“Father—”

“All of you, drop your weapons!”

They weren’t here for battle or to defend themselves. It took a few seconds, but Thomas heard the blades fall. Qurong sat on his horse, staring at the dead bull as two priests hurried in and collected the weapons from the ground. The Throaters closed off any avenue of escape, leaving only their rear unguarded.

“This is only a bull, not enough to satiate the true god,” Ba’al said. “The stakes here are far too great for an ordinary display of loyalty.” He pointed to his gathered faithful. “I will put the life of Teeleh’s loyal subjects up against the life of only one albino. We will see which one the true god delivers.”

The implications ran through Thomas’s chest like a blade. His own life against these swaying witches. His mind stalled at the thought. What was the priest suggesting, that he lie on the altar and take the blade the way the bull had?

But he’d come here to either die or be saved. Any further hesitation would only make a mockery of all he stood for.

“Against your witches,” Thomas said, “and you. Agreed.”

Ba’al’s eyes shifted over Thomas’s right shoulder. “We will all bleed and trust our master to show his power as he has in the past. All of them. And then your son. And then me.”

Thomas froze. “Never! Myself, not my son.”

“You don’t trust your god to deliver even this one albino? Is your son beyond Elyon’s reach?”

“I decide for me, not for my son.” Thomas spoke the words, but his mind was crying out to Elyon already. He had been tricked. Pushed into a corner. He saw the trap, but failing to see a way to break free, his mind cried out. Then his lips, in a barely audible whisper. “Elyon . . . Elyon, I beg you . . .”

“I haven’t asked your son about his faith in this God you serve,” Ba’al said. “I’m asking if
you
have the faith to put his life in your God’s hands.”