Lightbreaker

'People like you.'

'Like me. Like my clients. The Watchers have a lot of them; you can be sure of that. But not all of them. There's money and influence to be made in finding the lost artifacts first.'

'So Van Groteon beat your friends to it?'

'Somewhat. Gustav Albrecht Van Groteon was an industrialist who made a fortune for himself and his family in the new Austria following WWII. He managed to get his hands on the majority of Himmler's personal library. Van Groteon wasn't an occultist; his interest in the books was more. . protective. He thought that if a non-practitioner had them, then there was less chance of them being used for the wrong purposes.'

'But they were.'

'Not during his lifetime. The Watchers honored his desire and left the library in his care, though I'm sure they had additional safeguards. Claudia-Van Groteon's granddaughter-doesn't have the same reverence toward the occult texts as her grandfather. I've done business with her; she had to have some scarab rings done by Elsa Schiaparelli.

'I've been to the family house on Glanzinggasse and I've seen the library. It's a very impressive collection. Bacon, Jabir, Agrippa, Flamel, Beato: a lot of alchemical tracts and heretical treatises on magick. I could have sold a number of those books for six figures each, and I'm sure the same thing has occurred to Claudia. She has very expensive tastes.'

'And she sold the lot to Bernard.' Nicols lit another cigarette.

'No, I think she sold it to the Watchers. She knows they're the only real buyers. Any other party would have just brought their wrath down on her. As long as the library was in her possession, they knew where the books were, and they could keep a Watch on them. They weren't floating around.

'If she ever tried to sell the books to someone like Bernard-some small-time Swiss alchemist-they would have swooped in and taken everything. She would have gotten nothing. No, they probably paid a pittance of what the library was worth, but she got paid at least. And, in her situation, I'm sure the money was already spent.'

'So the Watchers gave the books to Bernard.'

I nodded. 'Or, at least, gave him access so he could finish his research.'

He looked around, staring at the trees as if he hadn't noticed them before, hadn't realized how far we had gone into the woods. 'Why here? Why not somewhere in Europe? Why travel all the way to the Pacific Northwest to build this thing?'

'Because the Watchers don't participate in experiments. He's a crackpot alchemist with an unsubstantiated idea, but that doesn't mean they aren't curious. They'd want to be sure he wasn't actually onto something. They know the way the old secrets are hidden. Sometimes it is the insane ones who crack the codes.

'Even if they didn't give a lot of credence to his ideas, they'd be inclined to let him try it out. They'd let him set up some experiments in a controlled environment somewhere-a location far from their back yard. Seattle is a long way from the bright lights of Europe; this is the backwater of the magickal world.'

'Lovely. Welcome to the Pacific Northwest, where alchemists and meth-heads think no one will notice what they're doing.' Nicols snorted smoke from his nose. 'Antoine doesn't know what is going on, right? All that crap about talking to God is just bullshit. Bernard's device just takes people's souls.'

'I think that was its intention. That's what Bernard sold them: a means of extracting and holding souls. Not like this, but individually. Everyone is interested in Immortality, John, even if they pretend otherwise. An artificial construct that can preserve a soul? That would be worth fighting for.'

The Key. The Stone. The Grail. We gave it many names.

'But I think it does something else too,' I continued, shaking off the Chorus' interest in the device. 'So does Antoine. They used Antoine's Protection to get it made, and they hid its true purpose from him. He won't admit to it-not to you or me-but he got played. Badly. A thousand people died on his Watch. That's a huge failure.'

'You think?' Sarcasm from the detective. Good. He was controlling his fear.

'So why did he let them make it?' Nicols asked. 'Is this part of the Watcher credo? Watch them build toys that will lay waste to the world? What is that? Some perversion of altruistic occultism that doesn't allow them to take toys away from kids before they hurt each other?'

'They always operate for their own ends.'

'That's what I'm saying. We know Bernard's angle, but what did Antoine get out of it? There are only two real causes behind every action: love or power. Everybody wants something; everyone is always thinking: 'What's in it for me?' So what's Antoine's angle? Doesn't it make more sense-God, it's so wrong-but doesn't it make sense that Antoine knew they were going to fuck him? He knew they were going to run off with the device; he knows they want to 'talk to God.' '

I saw the ugly simplicity of his thought process. Like Occam's razor, Nicols cut through the tangle of threads and made the Weave seem simple. Unadorned, yet still a complex pattern of our needs and desires. Love or power: always the validation. Such a simple thing. While the Hollow Men thought they were being clever, Antoine knew what they were planning. And, as I thought about it, I realized how I would keep tabs on their activities.

Pender.

Antoine didn't have to track their progress, he just had to know where their final ritual was going to take place. Pender would know. He wouldn't be so stupid as to be a part of their scheme-a plan that violated every precept of the Watcher credo-without being privy to the final experiment.

Unless-the niggling thought intruded-unless they hadn't told Pender. Unless they knew Pender was the link that could be compromised, and hadn't included him in their plans.

Nicols was still looking at the trees. Silent, natural watchers. 'Sarah was killed a little over a year ago by a drunk driver. A hit-and-run incident on the Aurora Bridge. He lived-the motherfucker walked away with barely a scratch on him-but, even with the air bag, several of her ribs were broken. Her right lung was punctured and it took them too long to cut her out of the car. She died during the transport to Harborview. There wasn't a fucking thing I could do.

'In the months since, I've realized how pointless my job is. I catch murderers-people who have acted. I don't do anything to stop them before they take a life. I got the call after she had been killed, even though the driver of the other car was drunk hours before he crossed the center lane and plowed into her car. I only get summoned after the fact. After the deed is done and someone has died. Can you see the futility of that? The pointlessness?'

He realized he had chewed through the filter on his cigarette and threw the whole thing into the road. 'Goddamnit, Markham. All I've wanted is to stop something from happening, stop someone before they acted. In the last few days, I thought this-' he waved his hand in front of his eyes '-this magick shit would be the ticket. It would let me See them before they committed their crimes.

'I thought this would help, but it hasn't. I've just been privy to. . God, I can't even. . nine hundred people, Markham. Nine hundred. That's more than the number of people who have been killed in Seattle in the last ten years. In a single night, Bernard and Julian eclipsed the last decade. Hell, SPD isn't-I'm not-equipped to deal with this scale. They aren't serial killers. They aren't random murderers. They're just-'

'Abberations,' I said. 'On every scale.'

'That doesn't change the fact that it happened.' He clenched his fists and raised his hands. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'What do you mean?'

'They're not done. You know that. So what are you going to do? Are you just going to let them continue?'

'I'm not sure what you think I can do.' I shuddered.

'I Saw what you did to Antoine.'

'That was a lucky shot. I caught Antoine off-guard. And I hit him with everything I had. If Bernard has access to all that energy he's stolen-and that's got to be a part of what the device does-he's a hundred times more powerful than I was an hour ago.'

'You're just going to walk away?'

'I'm not sure what you want me to say, John. Beyond the fact that I don't know where they are, I don't have the skills-or the resources-to take them on. I used up all the energy I took. What have I got left? Moral outrage? A