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2
Mother.
The word awoke him and he began to cough, deep retching spasms that raised a thin, sticky, salty fluid.
I’m wet, he thought after he stopped coughing.
More than just wet. Soaked.
Where was he? Everything was black. Not the slightest trace of light. He felt panic begin to nibble at him.
Was he blind?
Mother.
The word calmed him. He felt around him. He lay on a hard floor, concrete or stone, in a puddle of some sort of thin, sticky goo. He tried to push himself up but his arms felt like rubber. Too weak.
And then he realized that not only did he not know where he was, he didn’t know who he was. He had a name, he had to have a name, everybody had a name.
Panic threatened again.
Mother.
Again the word calmed him. He relaxed, closed his eyes, and the name came to him.
Darryl. That was his name. Darryl. But who was Darryl?
If he could see himself, maybe he’d know. And when he knew, maybe he could remember who his mother was, and then he could go and find her, because he needed to find his mother.
Light . . . he needed light.
He tried to speak but that caused another coughing fit. When it passed he found his voice.
“Give me some light!”
3
“Oh, hell!”
The phone—one of his Tracfones.
Jack rolled out of bed, searching in the dark by following the ring. Nobody called him at this hour unless it was an emergency and the only ones who’d call him in an emergency were Gia, Abe, and Julio.
He found it, fumbled to press the ON button, and jammed it against his ear.
“Gia?”
“No,” said a vaguely familiar female voice. “It’s Diana.”
A flood of relief and confusion—relief that it wasn’t Gia, confusion because . . .
“Diana?”
“The Oculus.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Still not completely awake.” He remembered now—he’d given her his number. “What’s wrong?”
“The Fhi
“You just saw this in an Alarm, I take it.”
“Yes. It was born tonight, just minutes ago.”
“Born? Where is it?”
“I don’t know exactly . . . but I do know it’s not far from you.”
“How far?”
“Somewhere in Manhattan. In a dark place.”
Swell. That narrowed it down. He glanced at the glowing hands of his Felix the Cat clock. Lots of dark places in Manhattan at ten after three in the morning.
“What’s this thing look like?”
“I don’t know.” She was starting to sound panicky. “I couldn’t see it. It was just a blur. In the last Alarm, it was only flickering blackness, a word, now it’s real and it’s here and it’s . . . it’s evil.”
Evil . . . Jack used to think good and evil were man-made, that the universe was indifferent and good or evil solely the products of human action. No more. As far as he could see, humans were still the only source of good. But evil . . . evil could be human and beyond human.
He knew when Diana called the Fhi
“Okay. Stay cool and think. Give me something to go on.”
“All I saw was its egg and . . . and this weird star.”
“Like Polaris, or a constellation?”
“No, it was a symbol, like the Jewish Star, the Star of David, only it had an extra point.”
A seven-pointed star . . . that could mean only one thing . . .
“The Order.”
“What order?”
“The Septimus Order. You must know—”
But obviously she didn’t. Yeah, he’d expect an Oculus to know, but she wasn’t a typical Oculus. She’d been thrust into the job half a year ago at age thirteen, with no warning and minimal preparation. One day a normal-looking teen, the next she’s got big, black, bug eyes and she’s become an ante
“I don’t know, Jack. What’s it mean?”
“Davis can explain it. Tell him it may seem like the Order has been quiet, but it hasn’t. It’s been very, very busy.”
“But what about the Fhi
“You’ve just given me a good idea where—a place that makes perfect sense.”
“But I mean, you don’t even know what it looks like.”
“Got a feeling I’ll know it when I see it.”
I think. I hope.
“Jack, you’ve got to find it and stop it. If you and the Defender work together . . .”
Right. Me and the Defender . . . she still thought him hale and hearty and powerful. What would she think if she knew he was an arthritic old man?
“It’s just me at the moment, Diana.”
“Then you’ve got to stop it. It’s going to do something awful.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but it’s going to be terrible . . . horrible . . . the end of everything.” Words seemed to fail her after that.
The end of everything . . . bringing in the Otherness would certainly mean the end of everything.
“Relax. I’m on it.”
Did that sound reassuring? Not to him.
“Be careful, Jack. It’s dangerous. It’s deadly.”
“Deadly how?”
“I don’t know. I just know that it is.”
Swell.
4
Finding sleep impossible, Ernst decided to give up and start the day. A momentous day. The first day in all time that the Fhi
At least that was what he hoped.
He had followed all the ancient teachings, all the lore. It was up to the Orsa now to complete the process.
But if it failed, what would the One say? More important, what would the displeased One do?
His hands shook as he began dressing, making a chore out of fastening his buttons. His suit was wrinkled, but that couldn’t be helped. He needed a shower and a shave, but certainly wasn’t going to share the facilities used by the residents. Besides, the company around here would never notice.
Leaving his cane behind, he stepped out into the hall—and to his shock discovered he was not alone.
At least a dozen Kickers were awake and wandering around. The one called Ansari, bleary-eyed and unshaven, stopped and stared at him.
“You spend the night in your office? What? Your old lady kick you out?”
What an absurd thought. He’d been married for a while—mostly to sire a son—but had learned he was sterile. No point in being married then.
He noticed that the malice in the man’s smile seemed perfunctory, as if he had something troubling weighing on his mind. He glanced around and saw the same look in the other Kickers’ eyes.
He turned to Ansari. “What are you doing up? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
The uneasy look deepened as he shrugged. “No reason. Just awake.”
“Aw, bullshit,” said a passing Kicker. “He had nightmares just like the rest of us.”
“Shove it, Hagaman.”
Hagaman looked at Ernst. “Check out that face. He had bad dreams too, but Mister Tough Guy ain’t go
“What kind of dreams?”
Hagaman looked uneasy. “Don’t know. Don’t remember much, just that it was bad. Woke me up, and I got up because I didn’t want to go back to sleep again.”
Could the impending arrival of the Fhi
“Pussy,” Ansari said, and walked away.
Hagaman appeared about to go after him, but stopped when he looked over Ernst’s shoulder.
“Hey, it’s the boss. And he don’t look so hot neither.”
Ernst had to agree. Hank Thompson looked haggard and haunted.
“Something’s changed,” Thompson said. “Feel it?”
“No.” But he did feel a charge of excitement from what that might mean. “But everyone else seems to.”
Thompson looked at him. “Do you think . . . ?”