The Dark at the End (Repairman Jack) Read online

  “So…” she said, “if Rasalom’s Other Name is composed of these seven characters, we can arrange them in the five thousand forty possible sequences, and know that one of them is his.”

  “So? What does that get us?”

  “Well, if people saying his ‘Rasalom’ name used to get him worked up, think what saying his Other Name will do?”

  Jack shook his head. “You’re talking five thousand possibilities. And even if we do find the right one, how would you pronounce it?”

  That brought Weezy to a screeching halt. “Oh, right. Didn’t think about that.”

  “And even if we could antagonize him by spreading his Other name around, what good would it do?”

  “It might bring him out in the open where you could get a bead on him.”

  The smile broadened. “I like the way you think. Make him come to us.”

  “How’s the search going, by the way?” she said. “Any luck with the moving people?”

  Jack’s smile faded as he shook his head. “Dead end.”

  The Lady pointed to the Compendium. “May I see this mysterious writing that no one knows?”

  She’d fully intended to show the Lady, but she’d been so quiet, Weezy had forgotten she was there. She placed the book before her and pointed to the middle section.

  “That gobbledygook there. Does that make any sense to you?”

  The Lady stared little more than a heartbeat, then nodded. “Of course. I know all the languages of Earth for all time.”

  Of course you would, Weezy thought, chagrined that she hadn’t figured that out on her own.

  “Well?” Jack said, sounding more impatient than usual. Weezy guessed he didn’t realize that the Lady’s responses were very literal at times.

  “What language?” Weezy said, almost as curious about that as the translation.

  “It is the original language of the small folk.”

  Glaeken’s eyes lit. “The smithies.”

  Weezy leaned forward. “‘Small folk.’ I’ve seen them mentioned in the Compendium. Like gnomes, elves?”

  “I’m sure they’re the source of those tales,” Glaeken said. “Tiny people skilled with metals. As soon as I could afford their services, I allowed no one else to make my weapons.” He looked at the Lady. “So this is their tongue. I’d heard them talk among themselves but never saw it written down.”

  “That is because they rarely committed words to paper,” the Lady said. She frowned. “If Srem used their tongue for this, she must have wanted it kept secret.”

  A secret passage in a book full of secrets—Weezy could barely contain herself.

  “What does it say—read it, read it, read it.”

  “I already have. It details the ritual of the Other Naming Ceremony.”

  The excitement died—fell off a cliff—and Weezy dropped back into her chair.

  “Oh. Well, that’s no help.” She sighed. “I mean, I don’t see any of us being given an Other Name soon, so I can’t see any use in knowing the naming ceremony.”

  Jack swiveled to face her. “Then why write it down in a language that’s effectively code?”

  Good point.

  “Perhaps it has something to do with what Srem added here at the end: ‘No two humans may have the same Other Name. The First-named shall be powerless as long as the Second-named lives. The First-named shall hear the Name within the Second and thus be able to resolve the duplication.’”

  “What’s that mean?” Jack said.

  Glaeken looked baffled. “I’ve never heard of any of this.” He glanced at the Lady. “You?”

  She shook her head. “Many things originating with the Otherness are hidden from me. It does, however, offer a reason why they so jealously guarded their Other Names.”

  “‘No two humans may have the same Other Name,’” Weezy recited. “We’ll probably never know why, so let’s just accept that that’s the way the Otherness wants it. But the next part is interesting: ‘The First-named shall be powerless as long as the Second-named lives.’ Powerless how? Does that mean no longer connected to the Otherness?”

  Jack’s eyes lit. “Could mean he’s mortal and normally vulnerable while someone else has his name.”

  Weezy could almost see the wheels turning in Jack’s head, and guess what he was thinking.

  “The last part’s a little scary, though: ‘The First-named shall hear the Name within the Second and thus be able to resolve the duplication.’ I’ve got a pretty good idea what ‘resolve the duplication’ entails, but what does ‘hear the name within the Second’ mean?”

  Jack said, “Rasalom knows whenever someone speaks his self-given name, so it makes sense he’d know when someone speaks his Other name. But this sounds different.”

  “Right,” Weezy said. “‘Hear within’ doesn’t seem quite the same. ‘Within’ what?”

  “Within the mind,” the Lady said. “I recall tales of this. The First-named will know when someone else has adopted his Other Name, because that name will live in the mind of the Second-named. The Second-named need not speak it, merely be conscious of his Other Name for the First-named to be able to home in on it—and ‘resolve’ the problem.”

  “What if the Second-named forgets the name?” Jack said.

  The Lady gave him a look. “I believe that is unlikely.”

  Weezy shook her head. Jack … always looking for a workaround.

  “You know…” he said slowly, “this has possibilities. If we figured out his Other Name, you could put me through the naming ceremony and give it to me.”

  Weezy’s stomach twisted. “He’d hunt you down and kill you.”

  “He’d try. But I’d be ready for him. Especially since I wouldn’t have to waste a lot of time looking for him—he’d come to me. I could choose the battlefield.”

  “Speaking of wasting time,” Glaeken said, “you’re doing that now. We don’t know his Other Name, so there’s no point in discussing it.”

  “You could christen me with all of them.”

  “‘Christen’ is a Christian term,” Weezy said. “I don’t think that applies here. And we’re talking five-K-plus possibilities.”

  The Lady said, “Whether it applies or would work is irrelevant. Only I can read the text, therefore I am the only one who can perform the ceremony, and I will not—not with one name, not with five thousand.”

  Jack looked offended. “Why not?”

  “It would be tantamount to pronouncing a death sentence. I would not do that to you or anyone else.”

  “It might be Rasalom’s death sentence.”

  The Lady folded her arms with grim finality. “I have spoken.”

  And that’s that, Weezy thought, relieved.

  “Can we move on to something a little more pressing?” she said.

  Jack said, “What’s more pressing than taking out Rasalom?”

  “Protecting the Lady from him.”

  A pause, then a nod. “Well, yeah. There’s that. After yesterday, there’s no doubt she’s still his focus.”

  “Speaking of yesterday,” Weezy said, “how’s your arm?”

  Jack got a funny look in his eyes. “Coming along fine. Just fine.” He turned to the Lady. “Did the noosphere come up with a place you can hide from him?”

  The Lady nodded. “A possibility.”

  “Where?”

  “Very near where the two of you grew up.”

  A shock zapped through Weezy. “Johnson?”

  Jack too looked surprised. “I know there’s a nexus point in the Barrens—”

  The Lady shook her head. “Not there.” She looked at Glaeken. “There is a structure on your land—”

  “The pyramid?” Weezy said.

  She nodded. “There is a good possibility I will be shielded from his awareness if I stay there.”

  Weezy tapped the Compendium. “I found something once—of course, I can’t find it again—that mentioned a pyramidal structure and hinted it had some sort of ‘power of occultat
ion.’ And typical of Srem, she didn’t explain.”

  “Occultation,” Jack said. “Fancy word for hiding. How? It’s not even enclosed.”

  “Srem said.”

  “That was once a cage, wasn’t it?” Jack glanced at her. “At least we figured it was.”

  Glaeken nodded. “Yes. Once a very famous place in the world of the Ancient Fraternal Septimus Order when it wasn’t quite so ancient. They built it to house the last q’qr.”

  Weezy pounded a fist on the table. “I knew it!” She pointed at Jack. “That thing that chased us in the lost town—that was a q’qr. The last q’qr.” She looked at Glaeken. “Is that possible?”

  He shrugged. “Well, after all, they live until they are killed, so I suppose it could be.”

  Weezy had been finding references to q’qrs in the Compendium and Glaeken had filled in the gaps: Q’qrs were created by the Otherness back in the First Age—genetically retrofitted from humans—as savage soldiers in its war against the Ally. Dark, hairy bipeds with two arms and two tentaclelike appendages sprouting from their armpits.

  “But why New Jersey, of all places?”

  “I believe the cage—or pyramid, as you’ve called it—was erected in the late Archaic period. The Order had preserved a good deal of knowledge after the cataclysm that ended the First Age, but never shared it. The ‘New World’ was not the least bit new to them. They penned the last q’qr near their first Lodge in North America.”

  “The one in Johnson?” Jack said, his expression baffled. “Why?”

  “The Pine Barrens, in what would eventually become New Jersey, were convenient to the coast via rivers and streams, and even more isolated then. The woods presented a good buffer against the natives.”

  “But why not someplace warmer—like the Carolinas?”

  “The location of the Johnson lodge isn’t random. It lies on a convergence near a particularly powerful nexus point. A settlement sprang up around it long before Columbus or even the Vikings found this continent, and eventually became the Old Town section of Johnson. You probably can’t pronounce its First Age name, but because of the presence of the last q’qr, it was referred to as Q’qret—which translates as Q’qr Home. As English became the dominant local language—”

  Weezy saw where he was going. “Q’qret was bastardized into Quakerton.”

  Glaeken nodded. “Which remained the town’s name until President Andrew Johnson decided to spend the night there. Members of the Order had largely moved on by then, leaving only the Lodge as a permanent holding. I knew the cage was empty and assumed the last q’qr was dead, but I bought the land around it to prevent development. Who knew what trouble people might unearth if they started digging?”

  Weezy remembered what she and Jack had uncovered when they’d dug on his land—Glaeken had been known to the locals back then as Old Man Foster—and it had led to a ton of trouble.

  She looked at the Lady. “But you’re saying that old stone cage would be a safe place for you?”

  “Wait,” Jack said, holding up a hand. “We’re just going to forget about this Other Name thing?”

  Glaeken said, “I think it’s a dead end, Jack.”

  Jack shook his head. “I’m not so sure. There’s an opportunity there. I don’t know what, exactly, but something’s there.”

  “Not if I do not perform the ceremony,” the Lady said.

  Jack leaned back, looking frustrated. Weezy had a feeling he wasn’t going to let this go.

  The Lady turned to Weezy. “To answer your question: Yes, I think that ancient cage might offer a hiding place.”

  Jack frowned. “How? It’s got open sides. I think you’d be more exposed.”

  “But it was built in a way that honors the Otherness. If I stay within its confines, its walls might deflect the One’s awareness of me.”

  Glaeken said, “It’s obvious he has no way to harm you—at least at the moment—otherwise he would have used it yesterday. But we can be just as sure that he is leaving no stone unturned looking for a means to extinguish you. So I see no downside to trying the cage.”

  “Well, who knows?” Jack said. “If you drop off his radar, he may waste time and resources locating you instead of hunting up ways to off you.” He looked at Weezy. “Somebody’s going to have to drive her.”

  Right. The Fhinntmanchca encounter had robbed her of the ability to zap herself around, appearing anywhere on Earth whenever she pleased. Until she regained her full strength, she had to travel like anyone else.

  Weezy raised her eyebrows. “Road trip?”

  He sighed. “I guess so.”

  He couldn’t have sounded less enthused.

  “Today?”

  He shook his head. “Something I need to do. Tomorrow is better.”

  “Then we head home tomorrow.”

  Home … so many memories back there, good, bad, and awful.

  4

  Dawn stared through her windshield at the McCready Foundation building from her quasi-legal parking space. Senator James McCready had died last year but his foundation lived on. Part of the building was rented office space—mostly to the private practices of the physicians associated with the foundation—but the rest was devoted to research.

  And that totally bothered Dawn. Dr. Heinze was a pediatric surgeon—it still bothered her that Mr. Osala had called in a surgeon—associated with a medical research facility. Were they doing research on her baby? Were his birth defects so unusual that he had to be hidden away and studied?

  She didn’t care about his defects, she wanted him back.

  But where was he?

  She hadn’t named him, and he certainly wouldn’t be listed anywhere with her last name. Baby Boy Pickering. Totally unlikely. But he had to be somewhere.

  Banned from the building, she’d had to set up watch out here. Not an easy thing in midtown Manhattan.

  She stepped out of the car—a used Volvo V70 wagon—and stretched her legs. Jack had helped her buy it. She glanced through the side window into the rear where the infant seat was securely strapped in. She’d wanted a Volvo because she’d heard they were safe, and if she was going to be driving her baby around, she wanted a safe car.

  She’d parked where she could see not only the front entrance to the office section of the building but the ramps in and out of the attached garage as well.

  She was suddenly on alert as a silver Lexus pulled out of the garage. Dr. Heinze drove a silver Lexus—

  And yes, that was him behind the wheel.

  She jumped in and started the car. She’d never before been able to follow him after he left his office. Now she’d know exactly what he was up to. And, eventually, where he lived.

  5

  After arranging a time to meet here at the Lady’s and drive her into the wilds of the Jersey Pine Barrens, Weezy left to meet Eddie, and Jack stayed behind.

  As Glaeken rose and started for the door, Jack said, “I want to show you something.”

  He pulled off the long-sleeved T he was wearing and angled his wounded left arm toward him.

  “Remember that from yesterday?”

  The butterflies were gone and the wound had further healed. No dressing necessary.

  Glaeken peered at the arm, then looked at Jack with concern in his eyes.

  “You’re healing … quickly.”

  “Too quickly. What gives?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “It’s obvious in a direction I don’t want it to be moving, so tell me something else. Please.”

  “I wish I could, but the answer is clear: As I begin to fail, you are progressing.”

  “Toward what?”

  Jack knew the answer but needed to hear Glaeken say it.

  “Toward what I used to be. You are the Heir, after all. And as you well know, upon my death, you assume my old place as Defender.”

  Jack did know.

  “Swell.”

  Glaeken looked at the wound again and heaved a sigh. “I can on
ly assume this means I haven’t much time left.”

  That saddened Jack. Yeah, he wanted Glaeken to live forever for his own selfish reasons—so he wouldn’t have to take on the Defender mantle. But he had others. He’d grown attached to the old guy. Glaeken had a quiet nobility that appealed to him. He was a walking trove of arcane knowledge. With his passing, humanity would lose someone unique and infinitely valuable.

  “How much do you think? I mean, this is all new to me.”

  Glaeken smiled. “It’s new to me as well. I’ve never died before, so I have no idea.” The smile faded. “But I’d hoped to outlive Magda. Without me…” He looked at Jack. “May I ask you a favor?”

  Jack sensed what was coming. “Look after her? Sure. Gia and I will see she’s well taken care of. And you know Weezy will pitch in.”

  “Thank you. That’s a comfort. I want her to stay right where she is. Any change in her surroundings worsens her confusion. If she was moved to another apartment, it would upset her terribly. I don’t want her upset.”

  Jack slipped back into his T-shirt. “Don’t worry. I’ll see to it.”

  “Good. I knew I could count on you.” He turned toward the door, then swung back. “Oh, and don’t worry about paying for her care. I—”

  “I’ve got plenty of money stashed away.”

  “You won’t need it. I’ve left everything to you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”

  “All that I own. You are the Heir, after all, so you will be my heir as well—my sole heir.”

  “You don’t have any kids?”

  “Hundreds. But they’re all gone. And Magda and I never had any, so you’re it. You’ll own this building and all my other holdings, including the Foster tract in the Barrens.”

  Jack shook his head. Me … owning a building on CPW—

  “Wait. I can’t inherit anything. I don’t exist. No Social Security number, no property, never paid taxes.”

  He’d run into this problem when Gia was pregnant. Without an official existence, he couldn’t be a child’s legal parent.