Marlow had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
Pan was running across the platform, crossbow in her hands, her whole body glowing with the force of the energy inside her.
She could take care of herself. He cut to the side, the Engine a maelstrom of movement ahead of him, a mechanical hurricane. The last time he’d been here it had been nothing like this, just an insect whisper from somewhere out there. But the last time he’d been here it had simply been forging his contract.
Now it was preparing to open a door between worlds.
He reached the edge of the platform and skidded to a halt. Beneath him the Engine whirred in a frenzy, needles and pins and cogs and springs churning. It was like standing on a cliff in a storm and he had to close his eyes against a rush of vertigo. How the hell was he supposed to find Charlie?
He opened his eyes, scanned the ocean-big mass of moving parts. The last explosion was still rising like a comet tail, something burning out there.
He jumped, landing hard at the foot of the Engine. From down here it was more like a forest, the parts so much bigger than they looked from above. The speed they moved at was terrifying, like he was standing in front of a combine harvester—blades of dark metal about to slice him apart. The noise was like nothing he had ever experienced, so loud that he could feel it in every cell.
It was almost as if it was calling to him, and when he took a step forward the section right in front of him stopped dead, a path opening up in the madness.
It wanted him to enter.
He hesitated, then put a hand to his lips, feeling the heat of Pan’s kiss there. He wasn’t sure what she’d done to him, but some of his terror had evaporated. He was still afraid, but she had given him strength. She had promised him, too. She had made a contract of her own. Get through this, and there will be another kiss.
And that had to be worth risking death for, right?
He stepped between two vast black trunks, each twice as tall as him and forged from a dull, black metal. They bristled with spikes that looked like drill bits, and were ringed by vast iron cogs. Branches split out from them, each of which had to contain thousands of moving parts—each smaller than the one it was connected to until they were so minuscule he couldn’t even see them. They looked sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone. And they had to be, he guessed, because each of those pieces had the ability to open a hole in reality and change whatever lay beneath.
But they stayed still as he passed, the machine grinding to a halt, showing him which way to go. He plunged into the darkness, into the noise. Every time he passed a section of the Engine it began to move again behind him, the air thrumming with the force of it.
Not far ahead there was another explosion, one that filled the Engine with fire and made it groan like a living thing, like some huge leviathan. What the hell was happening up there? Was that the sound of somebody breaking the seals of the universe? Opening the gate?
A section of the Engine spun to a halt and he pushed through it. On the other side was something resembling a forest that had been cleared and burned, an area the size of an airplane hangar where there were no cogs, no gears—just pieces of broken metal embedded in the ground, everything drenched in fire. The scorched earth ahead was glowing red hot, puddles of molten iron turning the air into a shimmering haze. There was so much smoke that even though his contract was still in place, his asthma cured, he was struggling to breathe. So much smoke that he could barely see twenty feet in front of him.
But twenty feet was enough. There was a shape there, a figure standing in the horror and the heat.
Not so much standing in it, as made from it.
“Charlie?” Marlow called out, choking on the word. He took a step into the ruin but had to stop because the heat was just too much. The shimmering silhouette ahead was walking away, disappearing into the haze. He opened his mouth and called his name again, louder.
This time the figure stopped, and turned. He stood in the inferno like he was sculpted from flame, his body a core of darkness wearing a corona of blazing yellow. He took another step, the bones of the Engine crunching beneath his feet. Closer now, and Marlow could see that where his eyes should have been there were just portals of light; it was like staring into the depths of hell itself. He felt that if he looked at them for too long he would simply end, that the sheer power there would scrub him from existence.
It’s not Charlie, he realized. It’s a demon. Or worse.
The figure kept coming, faster now. It lifted a burning hand and pointed it at Marlow, the air actually crackling and spitting with the heat of his touch.
Oh no.
Marlow turned to run, but the wall of parts behind him was spinning again, a gyroscope of blades that caged him in.
Death in a furnace or death in a blender. What the hell kind of choice was that?
He whirled back, fists clenched. Even with the power of the Engine inside him he didn’t stand a chance against whatever this was. It would turn him into ash with just a thought. It took another couple of steps toward him, the roar of it even louder than the sound of the Engine, the heat of it making the hair on his head curl and shrivel even though it was fifteen feet away.
No chance, but what else could he do?
He ran, but the heat was too much. It was like moving into a burning building, his skin blistering. He slowed, squinting through his fingers, knowing that any second now he was going to erupt.
Then the demon blinked, and the flames sputtered out like he’d been doused with water. It took a moment for the splotches of light to leave Marlow’s vision, but when he could see again he wasn’t sure whether to start laughing or crying.
In the end, he did both.
Charlie stood there, his best friend, his only friend. He looked just the way he had the last time Marlow had seen him, the same messy brown hair, the same wide eyes.
Only this time he was stark naked.
His skin rippled with delicate petals of flame, his bare feet standing in a puddle of molten rock. The air around him still danced, making him look more like an illusion than ever. He studied Marlow like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then his mouth lifted into a smile.
“Charlie!” Marlow yelled again, and he almost started running again, ready to wrap his arms around him, until he remembered where they were. “What the hell, dude?” he yelled over the sound of the Engine. “What’s going on? What happened to you?”
“Same thing that happened to you,” said Charlie, his voice the same as Marlow remembered, the same voice he’d listened to and shared stories with and laughed alongside for years. “The Engine.”
“I don’t get it, man,” said Marlow, coughing smoke from his lungs. “I don’t get why you’d side with Mammon. What did he offer you? Money? Whatever it was, Charlie, it wasn’t worth it. It isn’t worth this.”
“Marlow, you got it all wrong,” said Charlie.
“It’s because I left you, right?” Marlow shouted. “Back on Staten Island. I’m sorry, man, I never should have done that. I just … I just didn’t want to see you get hurt. I’m sorry.”
Charlie shook his head.
“If you hadn’t left me there then Mammon never would have found me. I never would have discovered the truth.”
“You can’t trust a thing he tells you,” Marlow said. A section of the Engine behind Charlie gave way, metal screeching as it crashed into the glowing rock. Marlow flinched. “He’s a liar, he just wants to open the gates. You’ve seen what happens, you’ve—”
“Says who, Marlow?” Charlie asked, taking a step forward. “Says Ostheim?”
“Yeah,” said Marlow. “He’s been trying to stop Mammon for years, for like decades. It can’t happen, Charlie. Our families, all those people, they’ll die.”
Charlie actually laughed.
“Mammon was right,” he said, taking another step toward Marlow. “He was totally right. You have no idea.”
“What are you talking about?” Marlow said. “No idea about what?”
“That you’re fighting on the wrong side,” he said. “You’re fighting with the bad guys.”
“That’s a lie,” Marlow said. The sweat was stinging his eyes and he wiped it away. The heat was unbearable, the inside of his mouth made of kindling. He felt that with one stray spark he’d erupt into flames. “Pan, Herc, they’re good people, they’re trying to do the right thing.”
“Maybe,” Charlie shouted back. “But they’re good people following the orders of a bad man. Ostheim, he’s trying to bring the Engines together. He’s been trying for years. He’s the one who wants to end the world.”
“No,” said Marlow. “No, that’s not right. You expect me to believe that when you’re right here, opening the gates yourself?”
“Take a look, dude,” Charlie said, lifting his arms. “Just take a look. This seem to you like I’m opening anything?”
Marlow looked past him, seeing the wasteland there.
“You’re not opening the gates to hell?”
“Marlow,” said Charlie, one eyebrow raised. “I know I ain’t exactly a saint, but you ever heard me say, Boy, you know what I feel like doing today? Setting free a bunch of demons and maybe the devil and watch them rip the world apart?”
“Then what the hell are you doing?” Marlow asked.
“Destroying it,” he yelled back, and the Engine seemed to roar in outrage. Charlie put his hands to his ears, practically screaming the words. “This was the only way. You have to bring the Engines together in order to use them, but you have to bring them together in order to take them apart, too.”
Another section gave up the ghost, crumbling in the heat. Charlie took a few more steps forward until he was almost close enough to touch. Heat was still radiating from him, like Marlow was standing next to an oven with the door open.
“Mammon found me, right after you’d left,” Charlie said. “Took me in, waited for me to sober up. I thought I was dead, man, I thought you’d poisoned me or something, that I was hallucinating him. Thought he was a monster.”
“I’ve seen him, Charlie. He is a monster.”
“No, he’s not. I mean, he’s messed up, all those years using the Engine, he’s a ruin. I don’t even think he’s human anymore. Gives you the creeps, no doubt. Truth is, though, he’s just a kid. Least he was, back when all this began. He told me what was happening. Told me about Ostheim, about what he wanted to do with the Engines. Told me Ostheim is a lying bastard, that he’s brainwashed you and that girl and the old guy and everyone else who works for him. Made you think you were fighting for the right side.”
Charlie paused, running a hand through his hair. Marlow chewed his knuckles so hard that it hurt. It didn’t make any sense. He’d met Ostheim just that morning. He was harmless.
“Hate to say it, Marlow,” said Charlie, like he was reading his mind. “But he’s about as evil as it gets. He’s old. Older than he looks. He’s been doing this for years. Centuries. So has Mammon. They’ve been at each other like stray dogs for half of time.”
“You’ve got it wrong, Charlie,” said Marlow, but the words sounded hollow.
“Not this time, man. Mammon told me, he showed me. All the stuff Ostheim has done, all the people he has killed. He told me he needed my help. He told me you needed my help. If I didn’t say yes then Ostheim would use you the way he uses everyone, would use you to open the gates.”
The world was reeling and Marlow had to screw his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again Charlie was even closer. He looked at his friend, saw the scar on his stomach.
“He tried to kill you,” said Marlow. “Got that girl to shoot you, got Patrick to throw you off a mountain. How is that being on the right side?”
“It was part of the plan,” Charlie said. “Wasn’t exactly supposed to go that way, though. Patrick was broken. He was crazy after what happened to his sister. You were supposed to get me back, smuggle me in.”
“So you could open the Red Door from inside,” Marlow said. Charlie nodded.
“Mammon told me that as soon as I got to the Nest I had to try to get inside the Engine, it was the only way. Get inside the Engine and make a deal.”
“To be the human torch?” Marlow asked.
“To have the power to destroy the Engine,” he said.
“No way. There’s no way the Engine would let you trade for that.”
“It’s just a machine,” Charlie said. “The Engine does what it’s told. Just a machine. I got my powers, and I opened the Red Door.”
Marlow jabbed a finger at him, a fire of his own burning up from inside.
“Yeah, and you killed them,” he said. “You killed all of them, Bully and Hope and Seth. Christ, Charlie, he was just an old man.”
“I didn’t do it,” Charlie said, holding up his hands. “Mammon did. He couldn’t take any chances. He’d been waiting decades, longer, for a way inside the Engine. He couldn’t afford to mess up. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t get what’s at stake here. It’s everything, Marlow. The whole world. What’s a handful of lives compared to a million? A billion?”
It’s what Pan had always said, and he thought of her now, fighting Mammon. Was he telling her the same thing? Would she listen?
It was Pan, of course she wouldn’t.
Something was niggling at the back of his mind, something bad, but everything was moving too fast for him to grasp it.
“But if you’re destroying the Engine … I mean, why now? Why didn’t you just destroy your own Engine, make it impossible for them to be joined.”
“Doesn’t work like that,” said Charlie. “The Engines can’t be destroyed unless they’re joined. Look, it’s complicated, and this really isn’t the time. I have to do this, Marlow. I have to do this now, while both Engines are here.”
The palms of his hands suddenly erupted, twin blowtorches that burned phosphorus bright.
“Wait!” Marlow yelled, staggering away from the heat, from the light, from the awful, unexpected truth. “Just wait, please, Charlie. I don’t get it. I don’t get any of it. Where’s the other Engine?”
“There is only one,” Charlie said. “There has only ever been one. But it is split into two, each one frozen into its own pocket of time.”
“What?”
“It’s the perfect defense, linked but separate, the same but different. Try to destroy one version and it repairs itself from the other, it self-replicates its broken pieces.”
“What?”
“And now they’ve been joined. You must have seen it, the way nothing seems right, nothing seems solid. It’s because both Engines, both those bubbles of time, are here, right now, in the present. Destroy the Engine now and it has no means of repairing itself.”
It roared again, all around them, the sound of the world splitting in two. Charlie looked at it, his face warped with contempt.
“Destroy the bastard now and it can never heal.”
“But if you destroy it…” Marlow said. Charlie threw him a sad smile.
“Then there’s no way of ending my contract,” he said. “There’s no way back. For you, or for me.”
Great.
“But hey, what’s one life?” Charlie said with a shrug. “And everyone else is saved. Got to be worth it, yeah?”
There it was again, that thought nestling at the back of Marlow’s skull. Something important. Something wrong. He closed his eyes, peering into the storm.
“Mammon, he planned all this, right?” he said, looking at Charlie again. The flames were creeping over his body again. His eyes were actually glowing, and when he nodded he left sparkler trails in Marlow’s vision.
“He’d been planning it for years,” he said. “To get somebody inside.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. Ostheim had the Engine locked up tight. He’d never risk letting in anyone who could open the doors.”
“Must have thought he could trust me,” said Charlie. “’Cause I was with you.”
“He never even knew me. I’d already put the Engine at risk once running off, why would he trust you any more than me?”
Something exploded, a deep, bone-rattling roar that almost knocked Marlow off his feet. It hadn’t come from the Engine, he was pretty sure about that. It had come from somewhere overhead. Dust and debris rained down and he spat out the taste of it. That niggling thought was closer now, fluttering just out of sight like a moth against the night.
“No way,” he said, as much to himself as to Charlie. “No way he’d just let you in like that. Not unless…”
And there it was, suddenly right at the front of his head.
“Oh Jesus, Charlie. He knew.”
“What? Who?”
“Ostheim, he knew who you were, he knew which side you were on. He knew what you were going to do.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Charlie, the light in his eyes guttering out again. He blinked, frowning. “Why would he let me in?”
“Because it was the only way,” said Marlow. “He’s been trying to find Mammon’s Engine for decades, right? To unite them. But all he needed to do was give up his own Engine, to hand it right over. He knew that when they were together they’d kick out a signal, make it easier to find them.”
“No,” said Charlie, shaking his head.
“We did it for him,” said Marlow. “We brought them together, we brought them here. We left the door right open for him. We have to—”
Another sound from above, like the skies were falling. This time a stalactite detached from the ceiling, one that had to be bigger than a house. It fell lazily, the ground shaking as it landed somewhere out there. The Engine was moving faster now, every piece a blur, like it knew something was about to happen.
And it was right.
Marlow turned the way he’d come, everything lost behind a wall of mechanical chaos. But he didn’t need to see to know that something bad was coming. He could feel it inside every cell.
“Ostheim,” said Charlie behind him, and despite the power that flowed through him his voice trembled. “He’s here.”