Mists of Everness

  “Here; just put your head between your knees for a moment.”

  “Okay. I’m Okay.”

  “Poor Bob’s got splatter all over him.”

  Wentworth took another sip from his soda. Then he said, “What language is that?”

  “Babylonian. We should be getting a translation text over screen six in just a moment. Those CIA guys are pretty good at real-time translation. Wonder what’s keeping them.”

  “Her accent?” said Wentworth.

  “Maybe the roaring noise is interfering with the equipment. Say, what did you tell the National Zoo people about the lion cub?”

  “National security. Accidentally killed in transit. What did you tell the Smithsonian people about the Hope diamond?”

  “Terrorist threat. That we’ll swap back the real diamond once we catch the terrorists.”

  “Mm. Good line.”

  “Did Azrael actually need the biggest diamond in the world for his ritual here, sir?”

  Wentworth shrugged. “I guess. Spirits are impressed by that sort of thing.”

  “Hey. She flinched backward. What’s he got in his hand?”

  “Moon rock from the Apollo shots. Guess the spirits are really impressed with that one, too.”

  “Terrorist threat again, sir?”

  “Naw. We just took it and reported it missing. Our man got caught, but by the time any hearing rolls around, it’ll be past the Ides of March. Speaking of which, are your men ready?”

  “Sir, we can have major riots in all the target cities of any size you specify. Declare a national emergency and martial law within the hour. We already have the press editorials written calling on the president to assume emergency powers and the congressional mandate authorizing it was passed as an amendment to another piece of legislation. I’m just worried about the funding. Not all the rioters will do it just for loot.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll give you Hal’s special number. You phone him up; they’ll roll that amount of money off the printing presses. Doesn’t appear on budget, no congressional meddling, nothing.”

  “Congress doesn’t know about it?”

  “Anyone who doesn’t take bribes doesn’t have enough funds to run. Anyone who does, we can blackmail and shut them up. They all know about it.”

  “What about the bomb?”

  Wentworth put down his empty soda bottle. “I still say riots are enough. And even if they aren’t, let’s bomb an empty military base. Maybe the one that Peter Waylock just trashed. Any atmospheric ignition of a nuclear weapon will scare the pants off everyone in the world. The American people will let us issue universal identity cards, track everyone’s movements, search houses without warrants, and suspend habeus corpus if they think we’re looking for terrorists with a nuke.”

  “And Azrael?”

  “He told me once he talked a king into killing every single baby born on May Day in the whole kingdom, putting them all into a ship and drowning them all.”

  “So? What does Azrael say?”

  “Azrael says do Los Angeles.”

  Both men were silent for a while.

  “Some of my favorite film stars live there …” Van Dam started to say.

  Wentworth pounded his fist on the chair controls. “Where’s my goddamned translation on screen six! I want to hear what they’re goddamned saying!”

  III

  “ … Step not again from the circle, I charge you and compel you, by this; behold, I hold in hand a stone from the floor of Heaven, which is nothing of Earth. All beneath the circle of the Moon I therefore put beneath my authority, for the Moon is in my hand. Even you, Great Princess, Noble Duchess, Great and Mighty Queen, here, in my place of power, must obey the ancient laws. I charge you speak your message in human words henceforward, in a fashion neither deadly nor dangerous to men, swiftly and without error.”

  GHOSTS WEEP ABOVE THE CORPSES. THE MESSAGE HERE IS PLAIN, MORTAL MAN. THE DISPLEASURE OF GREAT MORNINGSTAR COMES LIKE A BEHEMOTH TO TRAMPLE YOU.

  “Speak. Here is the adamantium stone, called Hope, which I wear within the figure of Solomon, and by it again I compel and conjure you.”

  GREAT MORNINGSTAR REMINDS YOU OF YOUR VOWS AND REMINDS YOU OF THE PENALTIES AND CURSES YOU HAVE UTTERED TO CALL DOWN UPON YOURSELF IF THOSE VOWS ARE FORSWORN. GREAT MORNINGSTAR REQUIRES THAT YOU AT ONCE EMPLOY THE SILVER KEY TO OPEN THE GATES OF NIGHTMARE, AND ALLOW THE CITY OF IMPERISHABLE TOWERS OF PAIN, WHICH IS CALLED DIS, AND CALLED ALSO ACHERON, TO COME FORWARD INTO THE WORLD OF MEN.

  GREAT MORNINGSTAR REMINDS YOU THAT A PLACE HAS BEEN PREPARED FOR YOU IN HIS KINGDOM, WHICH SHALL BE FILLED WITH AS MUCH PLEASURE OR PAIN AS GREAT MORNINGSTAR’S PLEASURE OR DISPLEASURE SHALL MEASURE.

  “Ah! Peter knew … Aratron! By the Rivers of Hell

  I charge you, by Phlegethon, by Cocytus, by Lethe, by Acheron, by Styx, bear the message to Great Morningstar, who is the lantern of the night, adding no word and taking none away, that the Silver Key is stolen but shall be swiftly recovered; and that, once the Silver Key is mine once more, the Gates of Horn and Ivory shall open, and a mighty army shall march through, conquering and to conquer; and that all Earth and the world beyond shall be ruled by him who holds the scepter of Morningstar.”

  I AM CHARGED BY GREAT MORNINGSTAR, THAT, SHOULD YOU SAY SUCH A THING, TO REPLY; HOW IS IT THAT HE WHO STOLE THE SILVER KEY HAS NOW HAD IT STOLEN FROM HIM?

  THE WOUND OF THAT KEY IN HIS HEART GREAT MORNINGSTAR STILL BEARS, AND WHAT PASSIONS, OTHERWISE UNKNOWN TO HIS PURE KIND, WHICH WERE UNLOCKED THERE, OF THEM HE REMINDS YOU, WHICH PASSIONS MAY TURN TO MALICE AND WRATH, WITH WHAT RESULTS YOU WELL KNOW. HE REMINDS YOU WHO FIRST SO WOUNDED HIM.

  “Tell Morningstar that I recall each word of what we spoke to each other on the day the Unicorn was slain, and ask of him whether or not my promise made that day was kept? Require of him to reflect upon whether the passions and desires of a living man, which beat now within his breast, have not made him greater than the sterile and dutiful purity of angels, as I had promised?”

  WHEN DARKNESS COVERS ALL, ONLY THEN SHALL OUR DOINGS BE HIDDEN FROM THE GAZE OF HEAVEN.

  “What is your meaning? Do you accuse me of deception, spirit? I charge you by the four rivers of Paradise, Pison, Gihon, Euphrates, and Hiddekel, to answer clearly, presently, in a fashion neither dangerous nor uncomfortable to man, in speech.”

  GREAT MORNINGSTAR WONDERS AT YOUR FAILURES. WHY HAVE NOT THE HOLY THINGS OF THIS LAND, ITS BISHOPS AND ARCHBISHOPS BEEN BROUGHT HERE TO THIS ALTAR? ONCE THE CHURCH OF THIS LAND IS WITHIN THE SHADOW OF THE SERAPHIM OF ACHERON, WITH THAT SINGLE SPELL, ALL THE DREAMS OF ALL THE FOLK OF THIS LAND BECOME OURS. WHY HAS THIS NOT BEEN ACCOMPLISHED?

  “The folk of this land have no state church. There are many bishops of many churches, and their power over their flocks is no more than what those congregations freely and voluntarily bestow.”

  HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

  “I do not know, Great and Mighty Queen, I suspect it was done to prevent just such a spell as we had intended. Nonetheless, the folk of this land fall swiftly under my spreading cloak. Each leader who bows to me puts the dreams of all his followers into my command.”

  SHOULD THEIR KING TAKE UP THE SWORD, ALL THOSE DREAMS SHALL ONCE AGAIN BE FREE, WITH SUCH SWIFT EASE AS THE PARTING OF A COBWEB.

  “They have no king, Great Spirit.”

  NO KING? NO KING?

  “Hence there is none with authority enough to oppose the spread of my dream-web.”

  THIS VICTORY DOES NOT AMEND YOUR FAILURES. IF THE SILVER KEY FALLS INTO THE HAND OF OBERON, MANKIND SHALL BE TAKEN BACK INTO THE FIRST GARDENS OF YOUTH, TO LIVE WITHOUT WANT OR MISERY, SUSTAINED BY THE PERFECT BOUNTY OF THE FRUIT OF EARTH, TO LIVE IN PEACE EVERMORE.

  “Say also that they shall live without liberty, without thought, without effort, victory, dignity, or pride.”

  THESE WORDS MEAN NOTHING TO SUCH AS I AM.

  “Spirit, answer me this: Is the Silver Key in any danger of falling into the hands of Obero
n? Answer in a fashion not hurtful to men, I charge you by Leviathan, Typhon, Tiamat, Ladon, the dragons of the four quarters, who are not bound by fate.”

  FOUR DRAGONS, FOUR QUESTIONS I ANSWER, PLUS A FIFTH FOR THE HONOR OF LORD MORNINGSTAR. LISTEN: THE SILVER KEY IS IN THE VALLEY OF NEVERDALE IN THE MOUNTAINS OF IRON NORTH OF ZIMIAMVIA, IN THE SECOND CIRCLE OF THE DREAM-LAND, IN THE QUADRANT OF THE AIR BENEATH THE CRESCENT MOON. IT IS IN THE REGION OF THE SEPHIROTH BINAH, CALLED ARCADIA, LAND OF THE YOUNG, THIRD OF THE TWELVE PLACES WHERE THE SEELIE COURT OF OBERON THE FAIRY-KING PAUSES IN ITS ROUNDS, TO FEAST. NO CREATURE SAVE THE WINGED MAY GO THERE.

  “Who has the Key? Why can my amulet of North Star’s Blood not reach there?”

  THE DAUGHTER OF TITANIA THE FAIRY-QUEEN HAS THE SILVER KEY. THE VALE OF NEVERDALE HAS MOUNTAIN WALLS SO HIGH THAT THE NORTH STAR IS BELOW THEIR PEAKS, AND THE LIVING CREATURE OF ARALIM, WHO LIVES IN THAT STAR, CANNOT BEHOLD HER.

  “Who is this daughter, and why has she not rendered the Key to her father Oberon?”

  AMONG MEN SHE IS CALLED GWENDOLYN MOTH VAROVITCH. OBERON IS NOT HER FATHER. THE FAIRY-QUEEN AND FAIRY-KING HAVE PARTED WAYS, FOR REASONS YOU UNDERSTAND BETTER THAN ANY OTHER MAN, SAVE THAT ONE WHO HAS TAKEN YOUR PLACE.

  “Ah! No! How could she!”

  IS THAT YOUR FIFTH QUESTION, NAMER OF NAMES? I NEED BUT ANSWER ONE QUESTION MORE.

  “I wish to know the name of the bridegroom of Titania … . No. No, my vengeance must wait. Spirit! Tell me the true name of Gwendolyn Varovitch.”

  YOU KNOW THE PRICE TO BE PAID FOR TRUE NAMES. KNOWLEDGE IS BORN IN PAIN.

  “I will pay it. Speak!”

  HER TRUE NAME IS LITTLE BIRD, FOR SO SHE IS CALLED BY HER BELOVED.

  IV

  “Of these gathered men, you may take the first one who coughs or fidgets, moves or stands or speaks. That one shall satisfy you, and thereafter you shall depart. Gentlemen, I suggest you remain still; I shall presently return.

  “Spirit! Your master placed ninety legions of the fell creatures of Acheron at my disposal, darkling elves, fallen cherubim, and demons, the whole of the Unseelie Court; I call upon them now in the names of the four kings whom they have served in times past: Ozymandias the Damned, Solomon the Wise, Haroun al Raschid called the Upright, and Owen Glendower; I summon them to the swordsmeet and weapontake at the Circle of Guardians in the first sphere of Heaven, to meet me upon the road of ashes. We ride to war.

  “Gerald Samuel Wentworth! You believe I do not know you eavesdrop where I have forbidden you; you are mistaken. Call the men of this land to stand ready for battle, whether it be here or in the dream-lands, I know not yet. Send the great war-ship called Hairy True Man to the place in the sea I have described. Prepare all your mightiest armaments, including the deadly gasses, diseases, and all-devastating fire at your command. I have here the President’s machine, which you have called the football, which can order all these things to readiness … . Ah.

  “Tell your nation that the Vice President is now in command, that the President has been slain.

  “Spirit! You may return to Acheron and take what is in your hand with you. It is still screaming, so I suppose it is still alive.

  “By the four angels who are bound in the water of the great river Euphrates, who shall be loosed upon the Earth at the sixth call of the Horn to slay a third part of all mankind, by their names, Nimrod, Ephialtes, Briareus, Anteus, and by the fear you have for them, I charge and compel, conjure and command, that you swiftly and safely depart, taking no more with you than I have said, doing as I have bid, harming none, leaving nothing behind, averting all curses from us, without earthquake, fire, or tempest to herald your departure. Go!”

  V

  Van Dam dropped his cigarette again. In a hushed whisper, he asked Wentworth, “What do we do?”

  “Start Protocol Omega. Call NORAD and SAC and put all systems on general alert. Go to DefCon Two …”

  “We don’t have the authority for that!”

  “The Vice President can use the red button. He has the authority.”

  “What about us?”

  “We’ve got to get out of D.C. It’ll be a target.”

  “Is there any place on Earth that will be safe?”

  “Not if Acheron arises; not if nukes start dropping.

  The only place to go is Everness. If things go against us, we can get away, into another dimension or something; things go for us, we’ll be in the best position to exploit the events. I think I can get Azrael to tell us to take Galen’s cloak and the magic bow and arrows to Everness. He’s already said how he doesn’t trust those magic talismans being here, in the waking world.”

  “No one has been able to draw that bow, sir. Azrael can’t even touch it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. More things happened at the Battle of Everness than Azrael knows about. Shut off those TVs and let’s go. Hal has to explain to the vice president who really runs the country.”

  When the door opened, a triangular swath of light momentarily fell across the room, the conference table, the plush chairs. The silhouettes of two men passed in front of the light of the doorway. The door closed. They were gone.

  The room seemed empty.

  In the far corner of the room, where the shadows were blackest, stood a tall, black silhouette, invisible and silent. As he raised his head, the shadow of his hat brim revealed first the scarf that hid his mouth, then the slant of his cheekbones, his nose; then, finally, his eyes, which glittered like polished stones; eyes filled with an emotion terrible to behold.

  There was the slightest rustle of black cape as the figure turned. No further noise betrayed his further movements.

  Now, the room was truly empty.

  7

  The Heart of the Storm

  I

  The bus stopped in front of the general store where Main Street crossed Port Street. A big man in a black Inverness coat got off, and the wind tugged at his hair and beard.

  The street was deserted. A few stray papers blew across it. The windows of the general store, the bank, and the grocery were boarded up. On the diner’s door was a hand-printed sign: CLOSED ON ACCOUNT OF DORIS.

  The bus swayed in the wind as it pulled away. Trees by the roadside bowed and swept their branches through the air, and telephone poles shook.

  The man looked up. The sky directly overhead was blue. The little town was on a rise; down Port Street he could see the promontory and the sea.

  Purple clouds and black clouds, like battlements and towers, loomed over the sea all along the horizon. Great swirling arms and convoluted knots reached up across the sky.

  “This is not looking very good, I am thinking,” said the man in a deep Russian voice, stroking his beard. “Franklin! You did not warn me when I dreamed about you on the bus! Call the Princes, you said. Did not say would bring storm with them. Hah! But I must let no anger, no frustration touch me now … .” On his finger glittered a massive ring of white gold.

  By the time he had walked to the edge of town, the towers and battlements of clouds had grown and outlying squadrons and flotillas of storm-clouds were streaming across the sky overhead, their movement visible to the eye.

  There was a lighthouse on a high promontory overlooking the sea. Raven put up his coat collar and bent into the wind, walking forward in heavy strides. Now he put his hand before his face and squinted, and the wind screamed in his ears.

  In the distance, between the sea and sky, a ripple of lightning danced. A few moments later, thunder rolled across the landscape.

  II

  Tim Kearns opened the door to the light, gentle knocking. A little girl stood there, squinting in the wind, holding a big brown dog in her arms.

  “Are you the lighthouse keeper?” she asked brightly.

  “Get in here. Aren’t you Lilly Rushcock’s little girl?”

  “My name’s Megan! This is Ralph. She can say her own name.” The dog barked and wagged her tail.

  “Yeah, that’s great. Look, do your parent
s know where you are?”

  “Ralph ran away. The nice man found her for me.” She added in a confidential tone of great seriousness: “We have a deal.”

  “Yeah, great. Do you know your phone number? Let me see if I can get your parents. Hey! Don’t touch that stuff.”

  “What is it?”

  “Radar. Satellite telemetry. That sort of stuff. Those are my schoolbooks and don’t touch them either.”

  “Are you the lighthouse keeper?”

  “Naval Meteorology Research Post. It’s not a lighthouse anymore.”

  “Oh. Uh … Okay.”

  “Who are you talking to, Megan, honey?”

  “The man. He found my dog. He looked at the ground. He says everyone has to get out of town or hide in a cellar.”

  “Are you worried about the storm, Megan? We’re only at a severe storm warning right now. Hurricane Doris is moving away from us, see? I hope. The satellites say it’s going away. But you still shouldn’t be out.”

  “Raven says it’s coming. Raven says he’s sorry.”

  Tim Kearns had just come across the word “horripilation” in his studies, referring to the sensation of gooseflesh when one’s nape hairs prickled from fear or cold. It had never actually happened to him before.

  Without another word, Tim Kerns picked up the green phone hanging next to his instrument rack pressed redial. “Sheriff Brody? Remember I told you we were only going to get the edges of Hurricane Doris? I was wrong. The storm path turned, and it’s coming this way. We need to get everyone in the bunker after all. Oh. Megan Rushcock wandered into my post here. Can you send a cruiser around to pick her up? Her parents must be frantic. And … what do you mean? I don’t care what the regional bureau says; they’re wrong. They’re looking at the same information I am, and I’m telling you the storm has turned. Yes, it’s official. I’m issuing a storm emergency warning. I don’t care if I’m not allowed to; I’m issuing it anyway. That’s right. You want to call the radio station and tell them or do you want me to? Okay. Remember Megan Rushcock’s here. Fine. Bye.” He hung up the phone, muttering, “Idiot!”