The End of the World As I Know It (The Ghosts & Demons Series Book 2) (19 page)

“I don’t know why you think so,” Chumele replied. “Electrons zip in and out of our dimension all the time.”

Mr. Chang cleared his throat.

Chumele whirled on him. “
Sh.
I’m thinking.” The little wiccan seemed taller all of a sudden. She’d pulled the same trick with Malta, seemingly invisible until she had something to contribute. Now was her time.

She glanced around the circle of stones.
 

“Can you open it again?” Mr. Chang asked.
 

“Locks are my specialty,” Chumele said. “Just give me a minute.”

Yellow demons began to descend the sheer face of rock head first. They ignored the rope we’d left behind, preferring to claw their way down en masse. They navigated the wall effortlessly. The red demons unfurled their leathery wings and took to the sky above us, circling like vultures.

Mama cocked her shotgun and stared up at the creatures. “If you’re good at opening escape hatches, now would be a great time to prove it.”

Chumele did not look up. She stared at the stones. “The lock changes with the seasons. The last time, it was in the month of August. We had to swim out here.”

“If you don’t find the way inside soon, we won’t need it,” Trick said.

Chumele reached out and touched one of the stones with the flat of her tiny palm. She bowed her head and uttered a few words in a language I could not identify. She then put her other hand on another stone. Finally, she touched her index finger lightly on the edge of the first stone. It fell aside with a crash.

A hole lay open for us where the stone’s base had been. It was just big enough for a large man to squeeze through. Below that, I glimpsed a short, steep staircase to a platform of rock that formed a ring beneath the stones.

Warm air met us as we descended to the platform. A short staircase led from each of the stones in the circle. Every stone was a door, but only magic could open it.

I wondered if Chumele had murmured a prayer or a magic spell to get us past the stone gate. I’m not sure if there is a difference.

Without a word, we all switched on the flashlights at our wrists at the same time. Instead of rampaging demons following us, a flurry of snowflakes blew in, swirling in the cast of white light from above.
 

“Just like Stonehenge,” Chumele said. “I studied there in a previous life. In another, futuristic reality, I teach at Stonehenge and the entire complex of stones still survives unburied.”

“Whatever, hippie,” Malta said.

Trick aimed his flashlight down the stairwell. The darkness swallowed the little flashlight’s yellow beam. We stood at the summit of a tower of stone whose winding staircase led deep into the Earth.

I had my sword ready, but the demons did not descend on us. “Mr. Chang!” I called. “They’re
waiting
! This is a trap. We can get in but can we get out? Or are they just waiting until we all go deeper?”

“It would appear they want us to continue, at least for a while,” he said. “Perhaps curiosity will lead them to send a spy down after us. Curiosity is common to every intelligent species, even these devils.”

“They want us to lead them to the weapon,” I said. “Go do what you have to do. Malta and I can defend the entrance. It’s small enough, working together, we can cut down anything that comes after you.”

“You’re very brave with my life, Iowa,” Malta said.

“We’re the best sword singers here,” I said. “If they steal the weapon, the war is lost. I’m being logical and that might not happen again so — ”

“Unnecessary,” Chumele said. As she looked up, she spoke in what seemed to be the same mystery language she’d used before.

The square of white sky became a slit as the stone slid back into place. Darkness replaced the sky. I should have been relieved. Instead, I felt like I’d just witnessed the lid of my coffin closing.

When I spoke again, my voice shook. “Um…that’s a beautiful language, Chumele. Is that ancient Sumerian or something?”

Her laugh reverberated off the stone walls. “It’s Waray-Waray. It’s fairly common in the Philippines.”

“Oh. Do I have to learn to speak it to get out that door?” I asked.

I heard Mr. Chang behind me. “If our mission is successful, getting out won’t be an issue.”

“Is this a suicide mission, Mr. Chang?”

“Not precisely,” he said.

Lesson 145: If you’re going to say something reassuring, say it like you mean it.
 

I believed Chumele. She answered in a small voice out of the darkness, “Of course this is a suicide mission.”

Chapter 33

The stairs wound down through darkness. We descended in silence for a while. Taeko became luminescent and led the way. The rising heat surprised me. As we went deeper underground, it was impossible not to picture Hell’s flames below us.

Our silence became heavier with each step. I was about to speak when Mama broke the tension for us. “Kevin? I think it’s time you told us.”

Echoes of our footsteps bounced down the cylinder of stone. Finally, Mr. Chang said, “Soon.”

“
Now
, Kevin. We’ve got demons at our backs and the secret is dead ahead. We’re out of choices, anyway, so let’s hear it before we get to the bottom.”

Mr. Chang was quiet for so long I thought he didn’t intend to answer. Finally, he told us about Rasputin, the Tsar and the Peace Palace.

“We have known of the existence of demons for a very long time, of course. The existence of the Ra has been whispered among clerics for many generations.”

“They’re in the Bible,” Trick said.

Mr. Chang ignored him. “It is only in the last few years, as the condition of their world has deteriorated, that the Ra have made more incursions into our dimension.

“There have always been a few of the Ra who could cross the bridges between dimensions and find their way here. It is said the first of the Ra to cross the boundary between dimensions were merely curious explorers, scientists and accidental tourists.”

Malta burst out in a laugh that quickly turned to derision. “Scientists? Tourists? Those flying things with the fangs? Really?”

“I don’t know if it’s true,” I said, “but I have seen demons who didn’t look like that. I met one who told me there were demons bred for battle, but others aren’t like them.”

I thought of what I’d seen through the rift: those soft eyes and high cheekbones. I remembered Victor pressing me on what Key might have offered. “The Ra that aren’t made to fight us might be more like us.”

“Yes,” Mama said. “It would be impossible for all of the demons to act like those monsters outside. They’d never be able to build a society otherwise.”

“The ones that come here aren’t all battle demons, either,” Mr. Chang said. “Sometimes the Ra enter through the same gates that our dead exit. Sometimes they find other ways, infiltrating our armies and our government, probing weaknesses and exploiting them.”

“Cross-dimensional invasion is what we’re here to prevent,” Trick said. “What does this have to do with — ”

“Long before Victor started the Choir Invisible,” Mr. Chang said, “there were other forces trying to fulfill that role. There are sections at the Pentagon devoted to solving the problem of closing those interdimensional gates. So far, when our scientists have succeeded, they have created zombies. The living must be allowed to escape into death or our world will quickly become overpopulated and the natural order will be upended.”

I pictured my dead boyfriend standing in a field where we had once made love. I’d thought of Brad as a ghost, but if the dead aren’t truly gone, I supposed zombie was an unconventional, but apt, description.

“In the modern era,” Mr. Chang said, “the war effort came to America in a serious way about one hundred years ago. More humans began to take seriously the idea that we weren’t alone and the other species were…infiltrating.”

Trick hummed a bar or two from a song I couldn’t identify immediately.

Malta recognized it. “This is not a
Twilight Zone
episode, blondie.”

“Really? Sounds like one. They walk among us. Boo! Scary!”

“Shut up, boy,” Mr. Chang said, “and I’ll tell you how we came to be here.”

“Yeah? Get on with it, then.” A defiant edge crept into Trick’s voice. All our nerves felt exposed, but his tone surprised me.

“Grigory Rasputin,” Mr. Chang said. “The mad monk got us to this place.”

“I remember that song,” Mama said. “I danced to that in a club in Austin. The band was Boney M, wasn’t it?”

“There are legends and lies built around Rasputin,” Chumele said. “He was born a peasant and rose to power as a religious authority though he was never a true holy man. It’s said he could cure maladies, at least for a while. He knew of hypnosis and demons and the Bible. He had the ear of Tsar Nicholas as the Romanov’s control of Russia ended after three hundred years.”

“What does Rasputin have to do with us?” I asked.

“The Peace Palace houses the International Court of Justice. It is a beautiful castle,” Chumele said. “When I visited there, an old man worked to make each tile in every wall and ceiling a work of art. He had a talented young man for an apprentice, carrying on the art so it would not be lost.”

Every word repeated in an echoed whisper down the stairwell so the tremor in Chumele’s voice repeated several times. She was a chorus all her own.

“There are many lost arts,” Chumele said. “We’ve lost most of our magic, but I think it will return. Soon, now, we’ll think of mysteries less as problems to be solved but adventures to be experienced. As Peter Pan says, ‘to die would be an awfully big adventure!’”

“Yeah. Good luck with that,” Malta said. “With all your past and future lives across all those dimensions, it kind of dilutes your importance, doesn’t it? We could all die down here. Who’s going to know once those demons start going from town to town, city to city?”

The quiver in Chumele’s voice widened to a shake. “My death matters to me, Malta. Those I love and those who love me will care. It’s like the man and the starfish. A tide washes in hundreds of starfish and leaves them to die on a beach. As the sun rises, the starfish are dying. A man comes along and begins to throw starfish back into the ocean. A neighbor tells the man to stop. There are so many starfish, he won’t be able to save them all. His efforts won’t make a difference. The man tells the neighbor, ‘it will make a difference to the ones I save.’”

“What do starfish have to do with the weapon? What does any of this have to do with Rasputin?” Mama asked.

“Rasputin was a prophet,” Mr. Chang said. “He saw his own death coming.”

“Like me,” Chumele said. “Soon.”

If Mr. Chang heard Chumele, he gave no sign. Instead, he continued, “Rasputin saw the rise of demons. He knew some worked among humans. They
looked
human, but underneath the magic mask, they were spies.”

“Rasputin cast a spell,” Chumele said. “The first is hidden in a gift to the Peace Palace in the Netherlands. Tsar Nicholas sent the gift of a green vase to the Peace Palace when it was formed.

“Rasputin saw war coming to Europe, but he didn’t just see the World Wars,” Chumele said. “He saw the Ra. He saw the arc of the story and where it would lead us. He devised a plan to subvert the Ra using their own power.”

“There are
two
vases,” Mr. Chang said. “The one in the Peace Palace is made of jasper. It weighs over three tons. Rasputin cast a spell that is contained within the vase. It is guarded at all times, in plain sight of the public, day and night. Very few know its true purpose and potential.”

“I still don’t know its use,” I said. “Get to it.”

“The Tsar commissioned
two
vases,” Chumele said. “The one in the Peace Palace is stronger and more dangerous, but believe it or not, the other one, right here in Iowa, could be the basis for our victory. If Rasputin was right and the spell holds, the Choir Invisible will have the weapon that will destroy the Ra.”

I shone my light down the stairwell. We were almost at the bottom. A sunken circle stood carved into the rock at the bottom. Cut deep into the floor’s design were the words:
 

Caccianli i ciel per non esser men belli, né lo profondo inferno li riceve, ch'alcuna gloria i rei avrebber d'elli.

“Translation, Kevin?” Mama asked.

“
Heaven, to keep its beauty, cast them out, but even Hell itself would not receive them for fear the wicked there might glory over them.”

“What’s that from?” Trick asked. “It sounds like
The Origin of the Species
, but for demons.”

“Dante,” I said. “It’s from
The Divine Comedy
. It was in the reading I was doing to get ready to go to college before…never mind.” I turned to Mr. Chang. “What is in the vase, sir? Is it a ray gun? I’m really hoping for a kickass ray gun. A particle beam machine gun that never runs out of batteries would be awesome, too.”

“We are using
their
power against them, Iowa. No ray guns, but you have used the lamp of Tighloon, right?”

I had used the lamp of Tighloon. Manny called it an amplifier. It could reveal the energetic echoes of events from the past. Using the lamp of Tighloon, I’d witnessed Peter Smythe murder Brad.

“The lamp of Tighloon is kind of the opposite of what we’ll find down there,” Mr. Chang said.

“The vase below us is made of heliotrope. It weighs two tons,” Chumele said. “When the Peace Palace was built, the Tsar sent Rasputin’s vases to the Netherlands. The philanthropist, Andrew Carnegie, brought the second vase to Grove Quarry. Just before he died, Carnegie made sure the Peace Palace’s little brother would remain safe here, until it was needed. It’s needed now.”

We arrived at the bottom of the staircase and I pressed my forehead to the cool limestone. An ache throbbed through my brain to the fast beat of my pulse.

When we turned our flashlights on, every living face was shiny with sweat. Unconcerned with heat or cold, Taeko stared back at me, a faint smile on her face.

Ahead, molten rock lit a wide cavern. A river of fire slipped beneath a stone bridge.

“Geothermal energy is the way of the future,” Mr. Chang said. “I’d be a millionaire if I’d focused my energies on that industry instead of the Choir, accounting and hapkido.”