CHAPTER 22
enny barked again, nearer now.
Casey moved toward the sound, holding out his hand in the dark as he weaved his way between the columns. The radiant moss was thicker here, and he was grateful for the faint light it provided. Glowing outsized plants grew at the bases of some of the pillars, and their added luminescence helped to cut the dark. Fleshy blooms turned toward him as he passed, and jagged petals spread open hungrily. He heard faint rustling and scraping overhead, and wondered if Malakaan’s caretakers were following his progress from the branches above.
Casey hesitated. What if this was a trap he was stumbling blindly into? Well, what if? Pearl was here somewhere, so he really didn’t have a choice. He wondered what Pike would do. Thinking about strange, brave Pike made him feel a little more confident, but not much.
“Come on, Casey,” he told himself. “Keep moving.”
He stumbled against a silent woman dressed in dusty ruffled silk. Six strands of perfect black pearls supported a staggeringly large diamond at her throat. Grit powdered her skin, crusting at the corners of her lips and her unblinking eyes. Casey stepped around her with murmured apologies. Nearby, a cluster of low hanging stone tendrils had meshed, forming a grotto. A dozen men and women huddled there, seeking solace or protection. Some stood silent and motionless. Others sat stone still, nearly covered in the drifting dust. A few eyes slowly turned to look as Casey walked forward, hoping he’d find someone who could help.
A familiar little figure stood out from the rest. Casey rushed over and threw his arms around the old lady. Mrs. McCurdy felt as insubstantial as a scarecrow, nothing but old cloth stuffed with dry leaves.
“Is that really you, Casey? You poor child. That monster captured you too.”
“No. It didn’t. I found my way in, and I am going to take you home. Carlisle is safe, and everything will be alright very soon.”
“No, Casey. It’s too late for us now. We’ve become part of this terrible place. I can feel it. It’s like we’ve become batteries for that creature to feed off of little by little…”
Mrs. McCurdy’s voice faltered. She looked lost and confused for an instant, and then she turned slightly and gestured with a fragile hand.
“You take little Pearl and go. Don’t come back. Just find your way out, and be careful, dear,” whispered the old lady. “Very careful.”
Casey crept further into the grotto where a motley collection of men and women stood together in a protective circle. Kokinoke and Tonktoll braves stood side by side with a World War I soldier, a bearded man wearing boots and a sheriff’s badge, and a circus performer in a spangled costume. In the center, the Saint Bernard reclined alert and watchful. Pressed against her side, a little girl in a skeleton costume lay motionless.
“Pearl! I’m here to bring you home.” Casey knelt down and wiped some dust off of her face. Her green eyes, as unresponsive as the glass eyes of a doll, looked through him. Penny lowered her muzzle, making a cascade of wrinkles fall across her forehead, and gave Pearl’s arm a gentle lick.
“It’s been too much for the poor little thing.” The voice was faint, a raspy whisper. “Too much for me as well. I think she may be all right, but you must get her out of here.”
Dot Clydesdale stepped closer on shaky legs.
“There’s not much time, Casey. You have to act fast, before that monster changes Pearl, or this place sucks the life out of her.” Dot raised her hand and pointed at Casey. “He was looking for you. He thought he had sensed your presence, but wound up getting your sister by mistake. The monster communicates by sharing thoughts, projecting images to us with his mind. He tried to hide it, but I glimpsed fear. A fear of you.”
“I kind of suspected that, although I can’t imagine why,” said Casey. He felt the reassuring weight of the bow in the buckskin bag hanging from his shoulder. “What about Penny? Why would he want her? Animals hate him.”
“The monster can guide and control us but he can’t completely destroy free will. I was with the group of shadows who snatched Pearl. I knew Penny would protect her, so I grabbed her and brought her here. I think most of us probably do what we can to undermine that monster. He has no use for Pearl, and he doesn’t want to deal with Penny. For now anyway. You both need to get out before that creature focuses on her and…” Dot’s voice trailed off. “Listen, I hear someone calling your name.”
“Doctor Enoch Bloodwyn,” said Casey, frowning. “He’s supposed to bring back Pearl, but Bloodwyn is concerned about Bloodwyn and nobody else.”
“Casey, I don’t think Mrs. McCurdy and I can help you now. Maybe this Doctor Bloodwyn can, whether you want him to or not.”
As Dot slipped into an exhausted silence, Casey settled down next to Pearl and tried to formulate a plan. He spotted a flashlight beam coming closer, so it was no surprise when Bloodwyn’s head popped up over the shoulder of a Kokinoke brave. The Kokinoke made an effort to block the way, but Bloodwyn easily pushed him aside.
“So you and little Pearl have found a ring of friends to protect you. Too bad they don’t seem energetic enough to put up much of a fight.”
From his outstretched fingers dangled six strands of black pearls. The flashlight pulled purple sparkles from the incredible diamond that was the centerpiece of the necklace.
“Are you planning on taking that?” Casey asked.
“I don’t believe the owner will miss it. This place doesn’t demand formal attire,” said Bloodwyn. “Are you aware of what this is?”
“Stealing?”
“Such quick wit! What a delight you are,” replied Bloodwyn acidly. “No my boy, this is the Peacock diamond, the largest perfect violet diamond in the world. I doubt that you would have recognized that woman, as your knowledge of theater and art no doubt begins and ends with guitars and comic books. Her name is Anastasia Peacock, and she was once a celebrated actress. Her disappearance was never solved, and, of course, now we know why, don’t we? This is a truly legendary piece of jewelry.”
Casey grimaced. “Worth lots of money, of course.”
“Priceless. But that is hardly the point.”
Bloodwyn dropped the necklace into the pocket of his jacket, and gave it a proprietary pat. He aimed his flashlight up toward the twisting branches that held the bulk of Malakaan’s treasures high out of reach. Light flickered across a stone altar carved in the form of a jaguar, swathed in moss like a layer of snowy fur.
“That jaguar is definitely Mayan, and we’ll probably find some Aztec, Inca, and Toltec. Look around you, boy. Think of the cache of astounding archeological finds housed up there. This is Aaxicall! It’s like stumbling into Ali Baba’s treasure cave. The impact this will have on the scientific community is unimaginable. This discovery is a hundred times…no, a thousand times more important than the opening of King Tut’s tomb.”
Bloodwyn flipped open the journal to an elaborate floor plan surrounded by a constellation of Kokinoke symbols. He studied the drawing for a while and then looked around playing his flashlight across the symbols etched into the wall.
“Victor’s journal certainly seems to be reliable. The fact that he managed to discover an entrance into this place, escape with a substantial collection of artifacts, and leave us with what is essentially a guide book before his tragic death is quite an achievement.”
“I thought maybe you pushed him off the cliff.”
Bloodwyn howled out a brutal laugh, and turned to face Casey.
“Perish the thought! What you must think of me. No, as much as you might like to paint me as the villain of the piece, I did not put an end to Victor. He had been trying to uncover why the Kokinoke vanished from New Mexico. The symbols that he deciphered, along with his knowledge of Kokinoke legends, allowed him to fill in the blanks and connect the dots in ways that no one had before. His research ultimately led him to this shadowy treasure vault.”
“You must have found his story hard to swallow,” said Casey. “It defies all logic.”
“True. When he first rang me up in London, I assumed he was mad. Then he sent astounding photos of artifacts beyond anything I’d ever seen in terms of quality,” said Bloodwyn. “Victor needed my help and was willing to share his discovery. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived in New Mexico, he’d become overwhelmed by the fate of these pathetic walking corpses. Once they started to pursue him in their shadow form, Victor’s sympathy dissolved into terror. The end followed rather quickly. Based on the destructive nature of Malakaan’s visits, I assume that poor old Victor had help going over the cliff. Unfortunately, he had already sent his journal to your idiot father, so I came to Vermont. I had no idea how to gain access to Malakaan’s lair. Then your pal managed to open the portal, and I now have Victor’s notes to guide me.”
Bloodwyn put his hand flat against the wall. He traced a curving symbol with his fingertip. “And these symbols are the signposts.”
“Signposts? Like road signs?” Casey pointed back at the Kokinoke and Tonktoll men watching over Pearl. “If it’s written in their language, why couldn’t they get out?”
“Excellent question. The answer is quite simple. These people were brought here by force. They have been reduced to slaves to do whatever Malakaan wants.”
“Mrs. Clydesdale told me they still had some free will left.”
“I imagine it does take a bit of time for Malakaan to own them, lock, stock and barrel. But ultimately, the situation is under his control,” said Bloodwyn. He pulled a gold pen out of his jacket and began to make a few notes of his own in the journal. He waved his pen back toward Pearl and the clustered group of captives. “The Moquidin are people he has turned into living shadows to carry out his commands in our world. Some are trapped in the branches above as caretakers of the ill-gotten gains. Malakaan was anxious about Wilberforce’s discoveries. I don’t completely understand why, but something about the theft of his loot and its proximity to you seems to have really upset the creature. He was able to open up a gateway in Whistlebrass, although I suspect it hasn’t been easy for him to do so.”
“Not the stone portal?”
“No. I’m quite certain other forces put that on the riverbank for our benefit. Malakaan and his minions have their own methods of moving about. He probably kidnapped the Markson boy and the other Whistlebrass locals to help him navigate through unfamiliar territory. Psychically stealing their memories and knowledge of local geography would be much like navigating using old photos as a reference. Malakaan may do very well in his own world, but it is probably hit or miss for him when he visits ours. Even legendary gods and heroes have weaknesses.”
“Such as?”
“Haven’t you read the classics, boy? In Greek mythology for example, consider Hera’s jealousy or Poseidon’s anger…”
Casey was in no mood for a lecture. “What about Malakaan?”
Enoch Bloodwyn subjected Casey to a sub-zero glare. Then he turned away and pretended to consider a series of spiky symbols etched in the stone wall and compare them to sketches in the journal.
“I guess he doesn’t like being interrupted by lesser beings,” thought Casey. He rolled his eyes and started to walk away. He was willing to bet that the arrogant archaeologist couldn’t resist the sound of his own voice for long.
“Isn’t it obvious from all this loot?” Bloodwyn resumed his narrative, unwilling to relinquish his audience. “Greed is Malakaan’s weakness. He was supposed to protect the people, but instead spent centuries pitting tribe against tribe so that he could demand payment from them in the form of treasures. The other ancient gods were furious at Malakaan’s insatiable greed and his destruction of life, but they were not willing to exterminate one of their own.”
“And so?” asked Casey.
“As punishment, they stole his eyes so he could no longer see the spoils he had done horrific things to acquire. Hence his need for the Moquidin. The voracious Malakaan has no eyes. Ironic, isn’t it? He is obsessed with collecting these riches, and yet he cannot see them.”
Casey wrapped his arms around his chest and shuddered. In spite of the warm dry air, he suddenly felt very cold. “So they are his captives, but also his guides. Mrs. McCurdy said it’s like all these poor people are batteries supplying his energy.”
“An apt comparison. He feeds off their fear and anger, and once he has transformed them, the poor souls can’t exist in our world for long. Malakaan can just take his time with them. They’ll be stuck here for an eternity in spite of whatever shreds of free will they have left,” said Bloodwyn. “Aaxicall was crowded at one time, but not many people have any idea what Malakaan is any more. Without followers and victims, his power and influence have waned. Even a supernatural being can get old and tired. Maybe world wars and nuclear bombs have created an environment where Malakaan’s ability to terrorize seems pretty frail.”
“He seems scary enough to me,” said Casey. “I don’t understand what happened to all of his victims. If he’s been doing this for centuries, we should be pushing our way through a mob. This place seems nearly deserted.”
“They’re all around you. Batteries do get used up, you know,” said Bloodwyn. He scooped up a handful of gray dust, and rubbed his fingers together, letting it sift through them and drift to the floor. “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust, as they say.”
Casey looked about in horror. Legions of people had crumbled away leaving no more trace than ashes after a bonfire. Casey watched as Bloodwyn continued to work his way down the chamber wall, inspecting the symbols and making notes. He wasn’t at all concerned with helping these people. He just wanted more honors for himself.
“You may have trouble explaining that you’re hauling your artifacts out of a monster’s cave, although I doubt if honesty will prove a stumbling block for you, Doctor. By the way, did you actually have any intention of helping us?” asked Casey. He fixed him with an unwavering gaze. “Or are you as psychotically self-centered as you seem to be?”
Enoch Bloodwyn tapped the journal with his gold pen, as he worked to control his temper. When he spoke at last, his voice was even. Cold fire burned in his hooded eyes.
“Understand me completely, you tiresome brat. I promised your mother to deliver your sister, and I will do exactly that. I did not, however, promise to deliver you. You may wish to keep that in mind.”
Bloodwyn stashed the journal back in his jacket, and headed back toward Pearl. “In fact, I think it’s about time to retrieve the little cherub. Keep that dog of yours under control.”
Casey held on to Penny’s collar and ran a comforting hand over her fur as Bloodwyn knelt down by Pearl, and carefully gathered her up. He draped the little girl over his shoulder and, guided by symbols carved into the walls and the diagrams in Wilberforce’s tattered notebook, trudged deeper into the labyrinth. The passage was long and low. Stone tendrils overhead had knotted together to form an interlocking grid supporting more stolen relics.
The further they ventured down the tunnel, the narrower it became. The ceiling dropped dramatically until, with his arms extended, Bloodwyn could almost touch it. The white moss died away, along with its comforting glow. Bloodwyn’s flashlight revealed rough rock walls pocked with grooves and swirling patterns. Cut into the stone was an undersized entryway so low that he was forced to duck his head to enter it. To Casey it was an unpleasant reminder of his disturbing dream.
“Come along now, young Mr. Wilde,” said Enoch Bloodwyn, “I believe that it is high time for us to greet our host.”