The Shape Stealer (4 page)

“Will Hughes.” He stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. His grip seemed stronger than his physique suggested. But this was a person who had figured out the orbits of the planets and maybe time travel too. It should be stronger, Will reflected.

“And why are you searching for my store, Mr. Hughes?”

“I was told that it might contain a time portal. I am, as you surmised, from a different time. The year 1602, to be precise.”

“Ah, the year of which you speak, 1602, happens to be a year of special significance to me. I long ago calculated that there is a cycle 801 years in length attached to the spiritual dominion, irrespective of calendar conflicts, uncertainties, even the wars that have tragically taken place over such issues. So 801, 1602, and the 2403 to come should be years of special holy significance. I’ll confess that I’m so far at a loss to find anything in historical accounts to make sense of this idea. I’ve tried to get on the ground in 801, in both Europe and the Holy Land, but access has so far eluded me. The same for 1602, even though I once upon a time lived through it. So, your need is also one of my own, and thus I can’t rule out that I might try to accompany you back to 1602 for this purpose. If, I might add, you’d be so kind as to allow me the honor of accompanying you!”

“I’d be honored to have
you
accompany
me
,” Will assured the scientist. “Are you able to travel through time so freely?”

“Alas, if it were as easy as that I’d have arrived at my proper destination: 2403. My method is not, unfortunately, a precise one. You see, contrary to what we perceive with the senses, the universe is not three- or multi-dimensional but actually structured from many polygons, adhering together. Sometimes their surfaces do not align perfectly with each other. Think of time, symbolically, as water moving over a streambed with many cracks in its polygonal surface. I have accessed time travel by finding such cracks and other obstacles where time pools up against them, and then entering there and riding along. The trick is to find the cracks. There is one inside the bookshop that bears my name—and the name of my former colleague John Dee.”

Will scowled. “I am glad to hear you say
former
. John Dee is my avowed enemy. It is because of him that I find myself in this predicament.”

“The man’s infamy knows no bounds. I would very much like to hear what he did to you, but first, let us repair to this establishment right here and refresh ourselves with wine while you tell your tale.”

Will’s new friend led him to a small table at the very same café where he had sat earlier in the day with Garet. As soon as he sat he realized how tired he was from walking all day—and how thirsty. But he was even more grateful for a chance to unburden his heart of his story. It all came pouring out, over a bottle of excellent red wine. Will told Kepler all that had happened to him from the time he had followed his tutor to London: his first glimpse of Marguerite, his immediate and overpowering love for her, their brief, happy time together, the painful revelation that she was immortal, his decision to seek immortality himself, how he sought Dee out and made a pact with him to gain that immortality, and how Dee had tricked him into becoming a vampire. Kepler, who had remained silent through this long recitation—and barely sipping the wine himself—swore when he heard how Dee had tricked Will.

“That behavior is typical of the man. He tricked me as well. When I first discovered the laws of planetary motion, Dee contacted me on the continent by messenger, with a proposal to publish a book introducing my work in detail in England, to be called
Johannes Kepler: Reaching for the Heavens
. It would have had a lot of beautifully engraved charts of the planets and stars, and he was to write an introduction comparable to the one he had written for a famous Euclidean textbook in England in the 1580s. It sounded like a great idea to me, especially as London was a hotbed of scientific experimentation and discovery at the time. To top it off, Dee offered to donate half of his share of the profits, which he assured me would be plenteous, to orphanages all across England. I was so moved by this great Christian gesture that I agreed to donate half of my own profits to the orphanages.

“I didn’t find out until many years later that he had actually stolen all of the profits including mine, which he inaccurately reported to me as ‘disappointing,’ and had given nothing away to orphans. Worse, he had embedded signals in the planetary and star charts that summoned demons from all over the universe to join him in his damnable efforts at world dominion.

“Only with great difficulty and the help of others have I been able to erase this misbegotten book from recorded history. But ending this terrible bookstore partnership has proven a more difficult matter. Unfortunately I have signed legally binding documents regarding the store, originally conceived of primarily to sell a French edition of
Reaching for the Heavens
, and have not been able to prove to a legal certainty Dee’s maleficent intent in the venture. But I will try forever if I have to; now it seems the man has stolen the very physical premises of said store right out from under my nose. That theft should help my cause, at least in a saner world, but the concern of these new economic courts in the European Economic Union for the defendant, always the defendant, only the defendant, has been incomprehensible and disturbing, believe me.

“But as egregious as his mistreatment of me was, his sins against you are greater. To expose a young man to such a hideous monster as Marduk…”

“You know of Marduk?” Will asked, shivering at the name.

“Yes, I encountered him in London as Dee’s ‘aide’ when I traveled there to finalize arrangements for the book. He was one of the first things about Dee that made me suspicious. He is the foulest, most evil creature in the world. Thank God you left him behind in 1602.”

“But we didn’t,” Will reluctantly admitted. “He came back with us.”

His companion turned so pale that for a moment Will thought he might faint. “Marduk is here? In Paris? Now?”

“Yes, he was in the tower when we traveled through time.” Will explained how his “dark angel” had appeared to him in Paris and instructed him to go to the Astrologer’s Tower in Catherine de Medici’s palace. How he had found Garet—whom he’d believed to be Marguerite—on top of the tower confronted by the foul beast in his own form.

“That was the most horrible aspect of all—that he had stolen my face.”

“But you had just recently encountered another with your face—your dark angel. How did you know that the creature on the tower was not he?” Kepler asked with evident puzzlement.

It was not a question that Will had considered up until now. “I don’t know,” he said at last, “I just knew. Such evil … it has an aura.”

“And so you fought the creature?”

“Yes, and thought I’d destroyed it. I cast it over the edge of the tower and then Garet used her timepiece to transport us through time to this present.”

“And does she not still have this timepiece now?” Kepler asked.

Will shook his head. “When we arrived here she found it was broken. Then, as we were going down the stairs of the tower, we saw Marduk’s bloody footsteps going
up
and we knew he’d been in the tower when we traveled in time. I hurried after him, following his footsteps out of the tower, and found them leading into an underground cavern which Garet calls ‘the Metro.’”

“An underground transportation system,” Kepler replied. “I used it today—quite ingenious. Marduk is a creature of the dark, perhaps he has hidden underground while he recoups his strength. From what you have told me he is still weak from his centuries spent imprisoned by the fey. It is imperative that we find him before he regains all his strength. I must confess that I am surprised that you have been frittering away your time looking for an escape back in time while a monster is on the loose.”

“But I have no idea how to find him,” Will objected, the blood rushing to his cheeks in shame.

“And your friend, Garet? Is she out looking for this monster?”

“I don’t know,” Will reluctantly admitted. “I’ve … misplaced her. The last place I saw her was at the bookstore next door.”

“Ah,” Kepler said, “then we are in luck. I happen to know that this store is a message post for the fey community. No doubt your Garet has left a message for you.”

Will looked downcast. “I already asked the clerk. There was no message. I’m afraid that Garet James has little use for me. She tells me that she is in love with my older self. She called me
silly
.”

Kepler clapped him on the shoulder. “Cheer up. The messages are not left with the clerk, but upstairs on a most ingenious contraption … come, let us go look there now.” Kepler left a stack of coins on the table to settle their bill. Will was so overjoyed at the prospect of finding a note from Garet that he didn’t ask him how he had come by modern currency—but he made a note to ask him later as he followed him to the store. Inside they climbed a narrow stairway to the second floor to a small cubby that contained a red and white metal contraption that bore the alphabet printed on small round disks. It reminded Will vaguely of a machine he had once seen in a typesetter’s shop in London, but it was much smaller. On the wall above were an assortment of printed pages. His eyes were immediately drawn to Garet’s name.

“You were right!” Will exclaimed. “She did leave me a note!” Strictly speaking the note was not addressed to him, but that must have been an oversight. “She’s gone to a place called the Institut Chronologique on the rue Saint-Jacques. I recall the street from my previous visit to Paris. It’s not far.” Will was already edging out of the narrow cubby, eager to find Garet, but Kepler placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Although I have known you only briefly, I wonder if you would not find it too forward of me to offer some advice.”

“Certainly not,” Will readily exclaimed. “Your advice has already led me to Garet.”

“Well then, if you find Garet now, how is your situation with her altered? As you described your interaction with her, it appears that she is … er … not entirely well disposed toward you.”

Will had to admit that this was true.

“But imagine how her opinion of you would be improved if you went to her able to tell her that you have destroyed Marduk.”

“She certainly wouldn’t be able to call me silly then!”

“No, she certainly wouldn’t.”

“But how will I destroy Marduk if I don’t know where he is?”

Kepler grinned, showing so many teeth that Will almost shivered at his glee. “Because I am almost certain where he is. In my previous encounter with him, he hid in the catacombs. He is a creature of habit. I assure you that is where he is now—and I can lead you to him.”

Will considered, his desire to see Garet again warring with his wish to see the light of admiration in her eyes when he told her that he had vanquished Marduk. “I’ll do it!” he answered. “Let us go!”

Once again Kepler lay a restraining hand on Will’s arm. “I admire your spirit, young man, but don’t you think you should let your lady know where you are going? A note never goes amiss.”

“Yes, you are absolutely right.” Will patted his pockets for a pen, but Kepler suggested he use the printing contraption instead. Kepler showed him how to press down on each letter to form an image of that letter on the page. At first it was laborious, but soon Will found that he liked the brisk clatter of metal striking paper and longed to compose something more substantial in this new medium. But he constrained himself to brevity.

Garet
, he wrote,
I have gone to find Marduk in the catacombs. If I survive the encounter I will meet you on the Pont Saint Michel at dawn. Yours (I hope), Will Hughes.

“Excellent,” Kepler said, smiling over Will’s shoulder as they pinned the note to the wall. “I have no doubt that this note will have the desired effect upon your lady.”

5

The Grim Book

“A love letter … to me?” I repeated, dumbstruck—and not a little embarrassed. A number of the
chronologistes
were smiling at their books in a way that I suspected didn’t come from the contents of those books. Annick was frankly studying me through her horn-rimmed glasses as if trying to assess my worthiness for a four-hundred-year-long love letter. “I hardly think … I mean, you don’t really know
that
. I’m sure Will had other things to think about in four hundred years.”

“Not that I can see,” Claudine said, looking up from a handsomely bound volume entitled
The World’s Greatest Love Poems.
“Here’s something he wrote to you in 1823:”

These trees adore each other endlessly;

The way they’ve grown together lulls the mind

With thoughts of Paradise, sweetens the eye.

And yet their love’s nothing to what we’ve found.

Their branches have eloped for centuries;

A mingling of two crowns and many leaves

That just this moment’s blessed by a mild breeze,

But leaves could never love like you and me. I weave

This sonnet for you just as trees have spun

Their interlocking branchery. Which lasts

For eons but will someday join the past,

Unlike these words immortal as the sun.

And even if the sun shall one day die,

we Will go on forever, you and I.

“And here’s a haiku he wrote while traveling through Japan in 1959,” Jean-Luc said, “called ‘In the Distance’:”

No beauty great as

snow on mountaintop, sunset

except Garet’s eyes.

“And here is a song he wrote to you in the twenties,” Annick added, turning on a phonograph, “called ‘You’re the Art of Art.’” A rich, smoky man’s voice sang,

You’re made by Michelangelo, I know,

allure so bright that even V. Van Gogh