The taxicab dropped them at the crooked gates.
“Can’t say’s I’ve ever been out this way,” the cabbie noted, taking the crumpled twenty from Josh. He made no move to break it. Instead he waited, the protracted silence becoming meaningful, though far from profound, until Josh said, “Keep the change.”
“Good man. Much appreciated. You folks have a good night doing whatever it is you intend to do in there,” he raised an eyebrow toward the old cemetery. He chuckled knowingly as he said, “I ain’t gonna judge.” Though clearly he was. That last line was delivered through a smirk.
Josh helped Eleanor out of the cab before slamming the door.
The cab was gone before they were through the raven gates.
Josh looked around, but there was no sign of Seth. He took Eleanor’s hand again and led her through the graves to the magician’s mausoleum.
The old man waited for them in the shade of the overgrown willow. He ignored Josh. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eleanor.
“I trusted you,” she said. “I thought you were my friend,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was weak. I made a mistake. More than one. It was a long time ago—”
“For you.”
“For me,” he agreed. “I am not the coward I was, dear lady. You have to believe me.”
“You will forgive me if I don’t.”
“I am trying to make amends.”
“It’s not enough,” Eleanor said, and he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Josh. “It is ready.”
“Good.”
“I’ll ask you one last time, are you certain you want to do this?”
Josh nodded slowly.
“There can be no going back once it is done.”
“How many times do I have to tell you: This is what I want.”
Josh heard the high-pitched squeak-squawk of lovesick bats flitting back and forth behind the mausoleum. He realized it was the first sound other than voices that he’d heard in a long time.
The second sound—a car’s engine—came a few seconds later.
Josh saw the flashing blue light as Julie Gennaro’s squad car pulled up at the gates. “I’m going in. When he gets here, tell Julie to follow me into the tomb. Give us a few minutes’ privacy.”
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing,” Josh lied. Damiola knew he was lying. Eleanor knew he was lying. Neither of them called him on it. “Just give us a couple of minutes.”
“If there are a couple to give,” the magician said.
He ducked past Damiola before the old man could protest, and walked into the darkness of the tomb, only it wasn’t dark anymore. A candle burned in the main burial chamber. For a moment he thought it was a lot more. It was an optical illusion. A trick of the mirrors the magician had arrayed around the tomb. They were the same mirrors Josh had seen in Damiola’s workshop, the ones offering different views in their reflections, though, now he saw a hundred thousand flickering candles, going deeper and deeper into an endless mist, and beside the flames, like an infinite array of ghosts, each wearing his face. Staring at it for long enough would be enough to drive a man out of his mind. He approved.
He heard footsteps behind him.
He didn’t need to turn to see who it was. A hundred thousand Julie Gennaros stepped into the tomb. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“You took your time,” Josh said to all of his reflections at once.
“You try laying your hands on bolt cutters and a blowtorch after midnight. It’s not as if I could just wander down to the hardware store.”
“But you got them?”
Julie nodded. “I did indeed.”
“Good. I want you to do something for me, Julie, and I don’t want you to argue. We don’t have time to waste. Seth will be here any second, and this needs to be done.”
“I’m not liking the sound of this.”
“It’ll hurt me more than it hurts you,” Josh said. “I promise you that.”
He knelt on the floor in front of Julie and held up his hand, fingers splayed. “I want you to cut the tip of my little finger off.”
Julie shook his head. “Are you out of your mind?”
“It has to be done. Just get it over with before I change my mind.”
“Christ,” Julie said, but he did what he was told. He dropped his shoulder so the backpack swung around and landed on the small flagstones that tiled the ground at his feet; then unzipped it, reaching in for the bolt cutters.
“It’s going to be messy, and I’m going to scream. You’ll need to cauterize the wound with the blowtorch. Just ignore my pain and get it done. I’m relying on you, Julie. This is your one chance to make up for betraying me to that bastard. Do this and we’re even.”
“Are you sure?”
“People keep asking me that,” Josh said, no trace of humor in his voice. “Do it.”
He took a T-shirt from his bag, wadded it up, and gave it to Josh. “Something to bite down on.”
Josh nodded and stuffed it into his mouth.
He looked like a sacrificial pig staring wide-eyed at its butcher.
“Keep your hand steady,” Julie said, opening the bolt cutter’s jaw and resting Josh’s fingertip on its teeth. Josh closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the mutilation happen. “This is seriously fucked up, mate,” Julie said, shaking his head as he clamped the handles together.
There was surprisingly little resistance as the bolt cutters sheered through the bone.
Josh screamed into the T-shirt, gagging on the cloth as a spray of blood fountained from the wound. He clutched at his ruined hand, but Julie dragged his good hand away so that he could get at the wound with the blowtorch before he lost too much blood.
Josh swayed on his knees, threatening to black out.
Julie back-handed him across the face, not sure what else to do. Josh’s panicked eyes flared wide open. “It’s only going to get worse,” Julie said, encouragingly.
Josh nodded, eyes red with tears. His breathing was fast and shallow, his nostrils flaring as he drew in breath after ragged breath.
Moving quickly, and doing his best to ignore Josh’s agony, Julie lit the blowtorch. He held it in his right hand as he grabbed Josh’s wrist with his left and applied the blue-hot flame to the wound, turning the flesh to blackened charcoal.
It took less than a minute, but in those sixty never-ending seconds Josh was sure his heart was going to stop. The pain was blinding. All he could hear was the roar of the blowtorch. He stopped feeling anything. His entire hand might as well have been on fire.
And then there was a pop, then nothing.
Silence.
Josh toppled onto his side, clutching at his ruined hand.
It was too late for regrets.
“Come on, mate. Up.” Julie helped him stand. His legs were like jelly. Josh leaned on Julie. It was all he could do not to pitch forward face-first into the dirt. With his good hand he fumbled in his pocket for Boone’s cigarette tin.
“Where’s the bone?” he asked.
“Fuck knows,” Julie said.
“We need to find it,” Josh sank to his knees and started feeling out across the stone floor, trying to find it. It took another minute. The fingertip already felt dead.
Seth would pay for what he’d done to his mother.
Damiola was explaining to Eleanor what he needed her to do as they walked out together into the night.
She nodded several times, eager finally to be playing a part in the grand deception. She promised she wouldn’t fail him. He believed her. Lying was in her blood. It was why she would have been one of the greats, but for the fact Seth had stolen her future away from her.
Eleanor left to take up her position.
They didn’t have to wait long for Seth Lockwood to arrive.
He strode through the twisted iron gates with their buckled ravens and walked straight toward them.
“Well, well, well; quite the family gathering,” Seth said, spreading his arms wide, as though to embrace them all. “And all for me? I’m honored. At least I think I am. Cuz, you don’t look good. Actually, you look fucking awful. I would ask what happened to you, but frankly I’m amazed you made it out of the warehouse without being eaten by the rats. So, it’s good you dragged yourself out of your pit, even if you’re too fucked up to hurt a fly, it’ll be enjoyable to finally put an end to your side of the family tree.” He turned to Julie. “Officer Gennaro, now you I didn’t expect to see here. I thought we were done with you, to be brutally honest. Not a lot to offer anyone on either side. A bit part, but played well, especially the final betrayal. Always a winner that. But, you’re done. You’ve served your purpose. You should go now.” Julie looked at Josh, not sure who he was supposed to be taking orders from now. In the end he thought better of staying and walked off, leaving Josh to stand on his own two feet. As he did so, he noticed the old magician’s eyes flicker down toward Josh’s ruined hand. Maybe the mutilation made sense to him?
“And, Cadmus Damiola, as I live and breathe. I thought you were dead. Actually, I was sure you were dead. It seems I was wrong. Or maybe not. You don’t smell good, old man. In fact you smell like you’ve been dead for sixty years.”
“That’s about right,” the magician said, adjusting his grubby coats. He scratched at his beard.
“Well, that’s the pleasantries dispensed with. Where is she?”
“Here,” Eleanor said, stepping into view. There was something strange about the way the light seemed to suffuse her body. She stood before the door of the tomb. She’d moved into position silently while Seth grandstanded.
“Let’s get this over with,” the old-time criminal said, as if his being there was such a hardship. “I haven’t got time for this shit.” He turned to the old man. “You don’t have to die here. All I want is for you to repair the damage. Give me another hundred years with the woman I love. Give me the time to make her love me. That’s all I ask.”
“She doesn’t love you,” Josh said.
“And who the fuck asked you, Cuz? Be quiet. The grown-ups are talking. Eleanor?” He reached out a hand for the actress. She shook her head slightly. “Well, now, that is disappointing. I guess I’ll just have to kill everyone. It’s not like I don’t have the best hiding place for your bodies.” Seth reached into his pocket and pulled out an old six-shot revolver, leveling it at the woman. “What is it they always say in the movies? If I can’t have you, no one else will. That’s it.”
Eleanor didn’t move.
Josh could see the steady rise and fall of her breasts. She was calmness personified. He wouldn’t have been half as calm in her place.
And then, amazingly, she turned her back on him, offering a guilt-free shot, and took two steps toward the mausoleum’s entrance.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me! No one walks away from me, woman,” Seth howled at her back as she disappeared inside. He waved the gun from the empty doorway to the magician, to Josh, and back to the empty doorway again, frozen helplessly to the spot. “Don’t any one of you fuckers move,” he barked, finally breaking the spell that bound him. He followed Eleanor, stopping on the threshold. His face was lit gold by the infinite candlelight burning off that single wick. He turned to look at Josh. “You try anything, I’ll put a bullet in your face. Understood?”
Josh didn’t say a word.
He didn’t move.
He gave no hint he’d even understood the words coming out of Seth’s mouth. The black agony pulsing from his ruined hand gave him something other than Seth to concentrate on. He clenched his fist, biting back on the sudden flare of pain that lanced up his arm in response. He couldn’t imagine his hand would ever be the same again.
Seth disappeared inside.
Damiola reached out to rest his hand on the lintel above the doorway, touching the carving of the ancient oak tree. The stone flared bruise-purple in response to his touch, a fine curtain of northern lights shimmering across the entrance as the magician entered his tomb. Josh pushed through the barrier, following Damiola inside.
“What trickery is this?” Seth demanded. His endless reflections stared back at him. There was no sign of Eleanor Raines anywhere inside the tomb. The candlewick flickered beneath the breeze that chased them in, then suddenly stopped, leaving absolute stillness in its wake.
“This is how it has to be,” the old man told the criminal. “Glass Town is gone.”
“It’s true,” Josh said, coming into the tomb behind him. “I destroyed the Opticron. It’s lying in the street outside Ruben Glass’s movie house in hundreds of pieces. There’s no magic left in it. There’s nothing to keep it trapped in the Otherworld. It’s free of limbo. It’s back here, where it belongs. It’s over. You’re a walking dead man. Can’t you feel all of those years rushing back into your body, clawing away beneath your skin?”
Seth exhaled slowly, a sly smile spreading across his feral features. “You’re pathetic. Just like your father. Just like Boone and Isaiah. All of you, absolutely pathetic. I’m going to enjoy killing you, boy, and then your sister, claiming the full set.”
“The full set?”
“You didn’t know, did you? Let me explain: I’m the plague as far as your family is concerned. Mother. Father. Grandfather. A push down the stairs. It wasn’t difficult. He was a frail old man. I almost regretted it. Almost. If he hadn’t worked out that the anchors were failing, that the whole thing was coming apart, he might have lived a few more years, maybe even lived to see the next generation of Raines take their first faltering steps. And wouldn’t that have been something? Fresh blood for the feud. Conjuring the kid, yes that kid, from the Chaplin movie, to stick his knife in dear old daddy; then using the Rushes to have your old man fuck his wife to death. Poetry.”
“You bastard,” Josh spat, the pain of grief eclipsing anything he felt from his hand. He clenched his fist, jamming the stub of his severed finger into his palm. The sunburst of pain was enough to drown out his other senses as Seth gloated over the havoc he’d wreaked in his life.
“Absolutely. You seem to forget, this is all business as usual for me. This is what I do. You’re in my world. You think you’re so clever, but you’re not. I’m not an idiot. I was king of this city before you were born. I’ve taken precautions.”
“You mean this?” Josh held his hand out. The fragment of bone that had been Seth Lockwood’s fingertip a hundred years ago rested on his palm. “The king is dead,” Josh said bitterly. “Long live the king.”
Josh took three quick steps toward Seth, grabbing hold of his jaw and slamming him back against one of the many mirrors hard enough to have a spiderweb of cracks race across it like wings at his back. The candlelight didn’t waver. The flame hadn’t burned down a millimeter. It wouldn’t. It would burn for a hundred years and a hundred more. On and on. Unlike the three men in the tomb it was eternal. With his good hand he pried Seth’s mouth open, and before he realized what was happening, Josh rammed both bones—his own fingertip and Seth’s that he’d found in Glass Town—down Seth’s throat, pushing his fingers in, curling back the other man’s tongue until he gagged and choked on the bones before swallowing them. Josh stepped back.
Seth fired two shots, both missing. Before he could fire a third, the gun tumbled from his fingers and clattered to the floor. It spun in place for a second, the barrel scraping on the stones, then shot across the floor, coming to rest at the magician’s feet. “Don’t look so frightened. I’m not about to let you die, Cuz.” Josh turned to Damiola. “Do it. Banish this place.”
The old man crouched down, placing his hand flat on the stones, and began to chant. The words were in no language Josh had ever heard. It was the oldest of English, bearing no resemblance to their modern tongue. The flagstones shimmered in response to his words. Filaments of bluish light chased along each and every crack, creating a latticework of raw energy that enclosed Seth Lockwood.
Mirrors behind the magician began to move, sliding across the doorway to seal the tomb.
Damiola lifted his hand from the stones, the energy dissipating in a chase of crackling electricity as it surged away through the cracks in search of the fastest route to the earth. The old mausoleum had been built on a confluence, a crossing of ancient power lines. It was potent ground, deliberately chosen. Some of the ancient magic still resided in the dirt, not yet choked to death by the concrete and steel of the city beyond. It was precious little, but it was enough.
The old man stood slowly, looking every one of his years.
He reached out for Josh’s hand, and then pulled him back through the glass, leaving Seth screaming at the walls of his mirror prison.
Josh reached out with his ruined hand and rested it on the cold surface. There was no ripple or give in it, and it didn’t matter how many times Seth beat his fists bloody on the other side, Damiola’s last grand enchantment wouldn’t let it break.
“I’ll find a way out,” Seth raged. Josh could only hear him when his hand was in contact with the glass. Somehow it conducted the words through from there to here, even as time began to slow around Seth and deny them any sense. He emptied the four remaining bullets into the glass. They had no noticeable effect, the mirror absorbing them as they fell somewhere out of time. “So help me God, I’ll find a way out and I will end you!” Seth screamed.
“No, you won’t,” Josh said. “There are no anchors to fail this time. Before there was always a way back, because the anchors kept the veil open on one side. This time you are gone. Banished. You are in Hell. The old races used to call it the Annwyn. It is a place of ghosts. There’s no fake movie set for you to pretend life goes on as normal around you, you will wander alone through a shapeless landscape, endlessly the same, wreathed it mist to hide whatever creatures lurk in the mists. That infinite solitude will strip you of your mind long before your body fails you.”
Josh stayed there for an hour, watching Seth prowl around the infinite glass prison, confronted by an endless array of impotent doppelgängers reflected in the backward land of the glass. His pacing slowed and slowed until he appeared to be frozen in the mirror world. Josh wished that time flowed the other way, that Seth was being thrust into the future so that a century on the other side of the glass might pass in a single year on this side. That way he could have watched the man break, his spirit crumble.
He wasn’t going to feel that satisfaction staring at Seth’s twisted face trapped in time.
He felt hollow.
Winning hadn’t solved anything.
The world wasn’t a better place.
And there was still one more grief to face: Eleanor.
He hadn’t saved her.
He was a hollow man who had won himself a hollow victory.
How was he going to face her? How was he going to tell her he’d failed to do the one thing she’d asked of him?
Josh turned his back on Seth and walked away, leaving him to slowly rot.
Damiola stopped him before they walked out into the light. “I know what you’ve done, lad. You’re going to need to get that hand of yours seen to.”
“I will, eventually.”
“Before it festers.”
Josh nodded.
“I won’t let you damn yourself, lad. I know what you’ve got in mind. I knew the moment you said you’d worked out how Seth came and went as he pleased. I didn’t think you’d go through with it. I guess I didn’t realize how badly he’d hurt you. But, know this, I’m going nowhere. I’ve got nowhere to go. This is my tomb, after all. I’ll sit vigil on that bench out there guarding this place just like I’ve done for the last hundred years. I won’t let you back in. The gateway to the Annwyn is closed and has to stay that way … you may think you can just walk into Hell and kill him because part of you is in there with him, or live forever out here, but the cost of that, the price, is too much, boy. Let it end here.”
“You won’t live forever,” Josh said.
“That’s what you think,” the old man smirked, putting his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Stranger things have happened.”