The Black (44 page)

"Father!" his daughter screamed.

The massive clock fell on its side and crashed to the floor, pinning Adeipho underneath. It didn't kill him. After all, he was a spirit. But it crushed his legs and ripped the sword from his hands. Adeipho was trapped, and helpless.

As the echo of the explosion drifted away, it was replaced by an eerie silence. The fighting had stopped. Each and every warrior stood still, staring at the scene in wonder.

Damon strolled to Adeipho and stood over his fallen enemy.

"My patience has at last been rewarded," he said with satisfaction.

Several Guardians made a move to get to Adeipho but
they were outnumbered and stopped by Damon's soldiers. The ring of Guardians protecting the booth didn't move. Their mission was more important than saving Adeipho.

"I knew this day would eventually come," Damon said. "It is proving to be more satisfying than I imagined."

Adeipho didn't struggle. There was nothing he could do. Instead of acknowledging Damon, he looked to his daughter. The poor girl was held, as helpless as her father. The bold soldier girl had become a terrified child who didn't try to hide her tears.

"I love you, Zoe," Adeipho called to her.

Zoe. Her name was Zoe.

"And I love you," his daughter said.

Damon gave Zoe a sideways look and stood tall, as if her words made him uncomfortable.

Adeipho looked up at him and said, "You still have no honor."

Damon replied, "And you are dirt under my boot."

He lifted his dark sword, its tip pointing straight down, and drove it into Adeipho's chest.

Ree ran up behind me and gasped in anguish.

Adeipho didn't flinch. He kept his eyes on Damon, defiant till the end. It was over in a second. The noble warrior dissolved into smoke, and was gone.

Nobody moved. The stunned silence was broken only by Zoe's sobs.

"I'm going for the Rift," I whispered to Ree.

I didn't wait for her to say anything and took off running for the information booth.

The Guardians surrounding the structure were the last line of defense. They looked to one another with confusion as I headed their way. I was afraid that as soon as I got within sword distance, I'd be smoke, but I kept going.

"Move!" I shouted.

"Let him through!" Ree commanded, running behind me. They were too confused to react.

"Open the door!" Ree shouted. "Now!"

A few finally responded and moved out of the way. I was going to make it. I would get through the Rift. My mind was already on to the next move. I had to find the poleax before Damon did.

My thinking was rudely interrupted by another explosion from the tank's cannon. I thought it was going to try to blow me apart before I made it to the Rift but figured the odds were with me. How could a cannon hit a moving target?

It wasn't trying to. It was locked onto a stationary one. A second after I heard the sound of the cannon, the information booth exploded. There was an eruption of smoke and debris as the bodies of several Guardians were launched into the air. I was hit by the force of the explosion and knocked onto my back. Something smashed down beside me and bounced with a loud clang. It was the brass clock frame that was on top of
the information booth. My ears rang and my eyes were filled with smoke and grit but of course I wasn't hurt.

As the smoke gradually drifted away from the impact point, I scanned the concourse. There were bodies everywhere. I assumed that most of them were the Guardians that had surrounded the booth. I made out the wreck of the train. It was surreal to see the huge engine resting in a pile of debris inside the concourse. The Kodak sign was destroyed, along with the entire landing on the east side of the terminal. The platform to the right was scarred, but intact. The ancient tank stood vigil, ready to unleash its fury once again.

It all made sense, unfortunately. I had seen it all unfold. But there was one sight I wasn't prepared for. In the center of the concourse was the destroyed information booth. There
wasn't much more left than shattered pieces of its marble base. Inside the circle of destruction there was a wide hole. A black hole. Though there was an entire concourse beneath it, no light shone from below. That was because it wasn't a physical hole in the floor. It was an open wound between two dimensions. An empty, hollow howl moaned from the depths. The sight was impossible, yet made absolute sense.

The Rift had been revealed.

I struggled to get to my feet, thinking I could run the twenty yards and dive through. There was still hope . . . but not for long. Before I could take a step, several of Damon's soldiers circled the Rift. There was no way I would get past those guys.

The battle was over. The Guardians had lost.

And Damon of Epirus, Damon the Butcher, had control of the portal between lives.

29

So many emotions fought for control of my head. Fear. Frustration. Sadness. Guilt. The emotion that trumped them all was anger, and not necessarily at Damon. Before he could seize complete control of the situation, I got to my feet and ran.

"Coop?" Ree called weakly.

My head was spinning from the power of the explosion but I managed to stay on my feet and keep going. A few of Damon's soldiers moved to stop me.

"Let him go!" Damon commanded. "I am done with him."

I almost wanted them to try and stop me, that's how badly I wanted to hit somebody. But the soldiers backed away and I picked up speed. I sprinted toward the destroyed Kodak photo, leaping over piles of debris, headed for the exit to the street. Once I blasted through the doors, I kept running. I was so angry that I had to unload and there was only one target that would do.

After sprinting along the empty street for three blocks, I reached the edge of
Ree's
vision. Beyond it was nothing. I stopped when I saw a Watcher, alone, standing on a far street corner. He looked to be a guy as old as my dad. There was nothing unusual about him, other than the fact that he held
the power to save or condemn every spirit in the Black.

"I don't understand!" I screamed at him. "How could you let this happen? What is your function? Do you even know what just happened? What's
about
to happen? How can you stand there and not do a thing?"

The Watcher disappeared, which was what I'd expected but it still made me crazy.

"Come back!" I shouted. "Face me! I'm watching
you
now!"

Two different Watchers appeared on the opposite corner. A young girl and an elderly man. Like all the Watchers, they were silent and impassive.

"Why are you so special?" I demanded. "What gives you the right to judge us? You're supposed to be evolved spirits? Well, prove it! Why don't you help us poor, backward idiots?"

The two Watchers disappeared and were replaced by a single athletic-looking African-American young woman
with a long braid of hair that reached to her waist. It didn't matter to me what she looked like. I knew they all thought the same way.

"Are you afraid? Is that it? Seriously? You don't want to judge Damon because he might send his soldiers after you?

Well, that's exactly what's going to happen. There's no stopping them now. Hundreds of brave spirits gave their lives trying to do your job. That makes you no better than him." More Watchers appeared, joining the woman. They were scattered across the street, some on the sidewalk, others far back on the next cross street.

"Damon's about to go back into the Light. Isn't that
against the rules? And he's not going to pay a friendly visit. If he finds that poleax, he could create more Rifts. What happens then? Are you going to stand around like a bunch of mannequins while the Light is overrun by the dead? The Black could empty out. Then what'll you do? Who are you going to watch then?"

Several more Watchers appeared. I'd never seen more than two or three at any one time so what was happening was definitely different.

"What about all those spirits who've been protecting the Rift? They weren't afraid. They sacrificed themselves to do what was right and now they'll never get the chance to move on to their better life. If anybody earned the right, it was them. Now they're gone. But not Damon. Oh no, Damon is alive and well. At least he will be as soon as he steps through the Rift. And you know whose fault that is? Yours. You're supposed to be rewarding those who deserve it and punishing the hopeless. But you haven't been doing that, have you?"

Still more Watchers appeared. I was drawing a pretty decent crowd.

"You know what I want to know? Who's judging
you?
Who decides if you're doing a good job or not? You better start watching out for yourselves because while you do nothing, worlds are about to collide. If I were judging you, I'd send you all to the Blood and start over. Maybe then some spirits who were truly evolved would step in and do what's right."

Many more Watchers began appearing. The street in front of me was suddenly packed with people, all wearing the same black clothing. No two looked alike. There were young kids and gray-haired grandparents. I saw every race imaginable. Their numbers continued to multiply, with everyone staring directly at me, silently. It was enough to make me finally shut up.

There had to be thousands of them. Multiple thousands.

They filled every inch of the street, stretching off in both directions and disappearing far back . . . and they kept coming. For as many people as were there, it was impossibly silent. I couldn't hear their breathing, the pumping of their hearts, or even their feet shuffling on the pavement. Unlike spirits in the Black, these spirits felt more like true spirits.

I stood there alone, facing them. Behind me the streets were as empty as when I'd arrived. If everything I'd heard about the Black was true, there was no reason for me to be afraid, because I was right. If these spirits had any reasonable sense of right and wrong, of justice and humanity, they
knew
I was right. If they didn't, then we were all in a lot more trouble than even Damon was capable of creating.

"I'm going back to be with the Guardians," I said. "If my spirit is going to die, I want to spend my last few moments with people I respect."

I was about to turn and leave when the mass of Watchers began moving forward. If a signal was given, I didn't hear it but there had to be something that happened because the entire group began walking at the exact same moment. I backed away with my eyes on the crowd. There may have been thousands of individuals, but they moved as one, like cogs in a massive machine. No expressions changed. No sound was made. Multiple thousands
of shoes struck pavement but it remained as quiet as if the street were empty.

It wasn't until they had traveled halfway up the block that I realized what had happened: The Watchers had crossed into
Ree's
vision. I couldn't begin to guess what was happening, but I didn't want to be alone when it did so I turned and sprinted back toward Grand Central. I wanted to be with Ree. And even with Zoe. And with everybody else who was left after having fought so valiantly for the future of mankind.

I didn't stop running until I entered the terminal and
reached the archway beneath the destroyed Kodak sign that led into the main concourse. The place was in ruins. The only thing different from when I left was that the remaining Guardians had been herded together and sat huddled next to the wreck of the train engine. I counted twenty, down from what were probably two hundred when I ran off. What had happened to the others? Had they been executed the way Damon executed prisoners when he was alive?

The only consolation was that I saw Ree and Zoe with them.

A group of Damon's soldiers was guarding them, though it didn't look like they needed to. The Guardians had no fight left. Several more of Damon's soldiers surrounded the Rift, staring into the void and listening to the hollow howl that came from the depths. It seemed impossible that stepping into that opening would shoot anybody back to the Light, and to physical life.

The rest of Damon's army was gathered on the stairs leading up to the landing that held the tank. Sill more were on the landing, lined up along the
shattered safety rail. Some had climbed up onto the tank. It was an impossible mix of warriors from many different eras and places. The one thing they had in common was that they had all bought into Damon's plan. Whatever he'd promised them, it looked as if he was going to deliver.

Damon was back on his horse. The proud victor. He rode past the defeated Guardians, looking down on them like they were rats. I could imagine him doing the same kind of thing when he was alive. He had murdered thousands of prisoners. If he decided to kill off Ree and the rest of the Guardians, I think that would have flipped me into insanity. If he so much as pulled out a black sword, I was ready to go after him . . . and die in the process.

"Thank you, Ree," he called down.

Mrs. Seaver kept her eyes on the ground.

"If not for you, none of this would have been possible."