Infernal - Страница 46

"E pur si muove," he whispered.

Tom said, "What?"

"Nothing."

"Find anything yet?"

"Oh, yeah. But not what we're looking for."

Jack tore himself away from the animation and began to plow through the Compendium one page at a time. He'd never learned to speed read, but he could scan text at a decent pace. He set three key words as targets: Lilitougue, Gefreda, and infernal.

About a quarter of the way through he came upon an otherwise blank page that announced:

THE

SEVEN

INFERNALS

Jack fanned through drawings of oddly shaped contraptions, each with a disturbingly organic look to its design. None of the first six even vaguely resembled the object floating in his apartment.

He hesitated to turn the last page. If it didn't show the Lilitongue… if Charlie had been wrong…

Jack took a breath, flipped the page, and exhaled in a rush when he saw the sketch of an irregular sphere with a dimple near its lower pole.

"Got it!"

Tom leaned away from the wheel and craned his neck to see. "You found it? What's it say?"

Jack pushed him back. "Watch the road. I'll read it to you."

"'The seventh and final Infernal is the Escapement Infernal. Known as the Lilitongue, fashioned by the wizard Gefreda during the final century of the First Age.'"

"Wizard?" Tom said. "We're talking about wizards? What is this, Dungeons and Dragons? And what the hell's the First Age?"

"Haven't a clue. But maybe we'll find out if you can shut up for two minutes and let me finish."

"Okay, okay. Go ahead."

"'In that time Gefreda became encircled in his castle by his enemies with no hope of escape. And so he created the Lilitongue and was never again seen, by neither friend nor enemy.'

" 'For that man vexed upon all sides, who would wish to elude his enemies and leave them helpless, yet has not the courage or mayhap the means to exercise the ultimate option, that man has but to depress the Lilitongue's dimple and he will acquire the Stain'."

"'After the appearance of the Stain, he who is marked shall have eighty-three hours to organize his affairs. Throughout that time the Stain shall spread, gradually encircling his body. When the two ends are united, completing a circuit of his flesh, he shall be removed from his troubles and transported to a faraway place, forever beyond his enemies' reach. He must bid farewell to those people and all things he holds dear, for such shall forever remain beyond the reach of the Stained.'"

"'Mark you well before depressing the dimple of the Lilitongue: Once acquired, the Stain may not be shed—not by cleansing, not even by flaying the Stained skin. Nor may it be given to another.'"

" 'When its task is complete, the Lilitongue shall return to its place of fashioning.'"

The text stopped above an infinity symbol two inches from the bottom of the page.

Jack flipped and found blank white space. The opposing sheet sported a picture of a double-bladed sword.

Where's the rest of it?

He pushed the book flat, looking for signs that a page had been torn out, but found no trace.

"That's it?" Tom said.

Jack nodded, then lowered the book and stared through the window.

Tom groaned. "Damn!"

Jack couldn't tell if Tom was bemoaning Vicky's fate or cursing the fact that she'd usurped his means of escape.

He reread the piece, searching for a loophole, a way out for Vicky, but…

Once acquired, the Stain may not be shed—not by cleansing, not even by flaying the Stained skin. Nor may it be given to another.

He could see only one way to interpret that: Vicky was in deep, irreversible danger.

Tom said, "I heard something about a 'faraway place.' Where do you think that means?"

"Someplace you don't come back from."

The Otherness maybe. He and Dad had had a brush with some of its inhabitants in Florida. The thought of Vicky in a place like that… unbearable.

Eighty-three hours… why that number? Sounded like a prime, but so what?

He did a quick calculation: Vicky had activated the Lilitongue around nine P.M. last night. It was now going on three. That left roughly sixty-five hours before she was "transported to a faraway place."

He wanted to be sick.

Tom said, "Maybe the book's wrong."

Jack shook his head. "Cool it with the wishful thinking. You saw the mark on Vicky's back. This morning it was bigger. It's stretching out to encircle her, just like the Compendium said."

"Shit. I feel so awful about this."

"You should." Jack wanted more than ever to strangle him. "You damn well should."

"Hey—"

"Shut up, Tom. Just shut the fuck up. I need to think."

Did he ever. How was he going to break this to Gia?

-62:04

"What's wrong, Mom?"

Gia tried to hold back the tears as she looked at Vicky. She'd let a single sob escape. She had to stifle the second. She sensed that if she let it push through, it would burst the dam and she wouldn't be able to stop.

Jack sat to her right on the couch, his arm around her back. Vicky stood to her left. Tom had secluded himself in the kitchen. A single reading lamp on the side table lit the old dark book-lined shelves of the Sutton Square house.

"It's okay, honey." She prayed her voice wouldn't shatter. "I'm just very sad."

"Why? Is it the book?"

"Yes, honey."

She slipped her arms around her child and squeezed her.

"Is it a sad book?"

"Very sad."

The Compendium lay on her lap. Gia stared at the illustration of the Lilitongue, hating it. Then, through tear-blurred eyes, she read the text for the fourth time, searching for a shred of hope.

Part of her balked at the possibility that anything so outrageously fanciful could be true. It was the stuff of Harry Potter novels.

But another part of her called up a vision of that black mark—the Stain—stretching across her daughter's back and she knew it was true.

Gia felt her world crumbling around her. She couldn't lose her little girl! It wasn't going to happen—it couldn't happen! Not Vicky! Please not Vicky! Take me instead!

"There's got to be a way out, Jack."

His arm tightened around her. "I agree. Has to be. We've just got to find it in time." He reached for the book. "Tomorrow I'm going to take this—"

She clutched his arm. "Take it where?"

"To Abe's professor friend. I already called him but he's gone for the day. But I'll show this to him. Maybe he'll be able to tease something out of the text that we don't see."

"And what if he can't?"

"Then we go public with the Compendium and the Lilitongue. Haul the world's best minds here and see what they come up with."

"But you won't be able to find this professor till tomorrow, right?"

Jack frowned. "I'm still working on tracking him down tonight. Abe had only his office number. The museum won't give me his home number."

"Okay, you go looking, but leave the book with me."

"Why?"

"To save time." Dear God, so little left. "Have you been through the whole book?"

"No. Look at the size of it. Must be a thousand pages."

"That's my point. While you're out looking for this professor, I'll comb through every single page. There may be more about the Lilitongue hidden inside. And that way, when we bring this professor in, we'll know where to direct his attention."

Jack chewed his upper lip for a second or two, then shook his head.

"We'll both do it—tag-team style. You do an hour, then I'll do one. That way we won't go blind."

"But what about Abe's professor?"

"Who better to track down his home address than Abe? I'll put him on it."

Relief flooded through Gia. She didn't want to be alone here with Vicky, this ancient book, and the Stain.

-61:49

Tom sat alone at Gia's kitchen table, sipping a Killian's Irish Red he'd found in the refrigerator and feeling down.

Had somebody put a curse on him? Sure as hell seemed that way. Everything he touched turned to shit.

The feds were looking for him and he faced ruination and jail time if they found him.

If they found him? How about when they found him?

His stash had been discovered and frozen.

His last chance—the weird artifact he'd tracked down and hauled from the bottom of the ocean—had turned out a bust. Worse than a bust: It had put a little girl—Gia's little girl, of all people—in jeopardy.

Could things get any worse?

He couldn't see how. But things could be worse.

He tried to avoid the thought, felt ashamed that it even occurred to him, but his only luck lately had been Vicky touching the dimple on the Lilitougue instead of him.

Christ, he hated himself for the relief he felt.

Yes, he'd been the one looking to "elude all enemies," but not the way the Lilitongue was going about it. Whisked away to some undefined place from whence he could never return? No, thank you.

He shivered. He'd rather take his chances with the feds.

But of all people to be stuck with that creepy-looking mark, why Vicky? Why couldn't it have been Jack?

How low was that?