‘I am not afraid to die,’ Shavi said, getting down. ‘I have lived a good life, filled with experience. I have known love and friendship. I have attempted to do something worthwhile with the time I have been granted here.’ He smiled at the guard. ‘And this is not the end.’
Sweat stood out on the policeman’s forehead, but he couldn’t resist the compulsion to tighten his finger on the trigger.
Behind him, a pot plant on a filing cabinet began to waver as if caught in a breeze. The leaves shivered, grew larger and then erupted in an explosion of greenery that lashed around the policeman’s head. His hand jerked as he pulled the trigger and the bullet whipped by a half-inch from Shavi’s head. The leaves continued to sprout rapidly, wrapping around the policeman’s face faster than he could tear them free. They forced their way into his mouth and nose, and he crashed to the floor, unconscious.
Shavi wrenched the door open to reveal Laura, hands on hips. ‘Three cheers for Chlorophyll Kid,’ she said.
Shavi threw his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. ‘I knew you would have a use sooner or later,’ he teased.
‘Takes it out of you, the whole growing plants thing. But I’m getting better at it.’
‘I was sure you were going to be the one to die,’ Tom muttered as he pushed past her.
‘The world needs me as a balance to miserable old bastards like you.’ She prised herself free from Shavi’s hug.
‘How did you find us?’ Shavi asked.
‘I remember crossing over and then …’ Laura struggled to recall. ‘Somebody was there, grinning at me. That’s all that comes back, the grin.’
‘The Puck,’ Tom said. ‘He likes to guide, but not interfere.’
‘So.’ Laura grinned. ‘New York. Hedonism capital of the Western world. Tell me we’ve got time to hit a bar, a club, get off our faces-’
‘Of course,’ Tom replied. ‘Pamper yourself. Meanwhile, Shavi and I will get the sword, rescue Church, find the Key and save the world.’
9
‘Thank you,’ Nelson said into the radio before turning to Tombstone. ‘That’s a confirmed sighting of our three runaways — in the vicinity of Grand Central Terminal.’
‘This is a fucked-up world,’ Tombstone said as he pulled into traffic. He was still queasy from the shock of seeing the spider Church had pointed out, embedded in Oakes’s body, shortly before it freed itself and attempted to scurry away. Nelson’s shoe had ended its run. ‘The Army of the Ten Billion Spiders? What is that, like the Jesus Army but with extra legs?’
‘All that matters is that they’re mind-control agents,’ Church said.
‘Don’t think for a minute that I believe any of this,’ Nelson said. ‘All I know is that things don’t fit and until they do, I’m keeping you near.’
‘My friends-’
‘Still no sign of them.’
‘And why are you so important, Jude Law? British Secret Service? Or just an asshole with paranoid delusions?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Course you can’t.’
They drove up Park Avenue to East Forty-Second Street and Vander-bilt Avenue where the imposing Beaux Arts facade of Grand Central Terminal presented itself to them. The first hint of dawn was visible in the sky, but it would be a while before the trains started running.
‘Don’t go for another jog,’ Nelson cautioned as they got out onto the deserted street. ‘This time I will shoot. Only to wound, but it hurts like hell, believe me.’
‘If they’re trying to skip town we’ll need to call for back-up to cover all the gates,’ Tombstone said.
As a newspaper delivery truck passed, its rumble merged with the chilling low, moaning cry, this time clearer:
Some underlying quality of the sound chilled them all. It conjured up images of wintry wastes, and frigid skies, and blood on snow, as though a stream of information was encoded in a precise combination of notes and timbre.
Nelson considered what he had heard. ‘It’s saying a word,’ he concluded.
‘Yeah? It’s not in my dictionary,’ Tombstone replied.
‘ “Wen-dig,” ’ Nelson repeated.
‘The last syllable is “oh”,’ Church said.
Tombstone consulted his BlackBerry, ‘Okay, Google. Wendigo. “A traditional belief of various Algonquian- speaking tribes, particularly the Ojibwa/Saulteaux, the Cree, and the Innu/Naskapi/Montagnais”.’ He struggled over the pronunciations. ‘ “A malevolent spirit that can possess humans or take on a life of its own. A ravenous beast with a hunger for human flesh that can never be sated. It consumes the victims down to the last bone and drop of blood. It carries a feeling of winter famine with it. Icy blizzards rise up around it, trees crack, water freezes, snow clouds form.” ’
‘So our killer thinks he’s a mythical beast,’ Nelson said.
Church knew the truth but kept it to himself.
Tombstone glanced towards the station entrance. ‘Sounded like it came from inside.’
They raced through the columned entrance to the stairs that swept down into the cavernous main concourse. The four-faced clock above the information booth ticked away the seconds. Overhead the ceiling was painted with an astronomical design, but all the constellations were backwards: a reflection of reality.
‘Is it me or is it cold in here?’ Tombstone said.
A cleaner trundled a yellow trolley across the floor. After he had passed, Church registered some quality in the sly glance the cleaner had given him — it reminded him of the detective who had warned Oakes at the precinct. He hurried down the steps, but the cleaner was nowhere to be seen.
The Wendigo cry drifted over the empty concourse.
‘Shit. I wish he’d stop doing that,’ Tombstone growled.
The sound of running feet made them all whirl. A shout followed. Jack, Mahalia and Crowther ran through one of the platform entrances, to the annoyance of a rail employee who was now barking into his radio and running after them. Tombstone, Nelson and Church sprinted in pursuit, through the entrance, down steps and into a brightly lit tunnel.
The temperature dropped drastically as they ran. Frost glistened on the walls. Small drifts of snow appeared here and there.
Rounding a corner, they nearly fell over another dismembered body. The railway employee was missing his upper half. Blood formed a garish crescent across the frozen floor ending in a Jackson Pollock spray up both walls.
‘
Tombstone backed against Nelson, gun raised. Church saw in their eyes that they were beginning to grasp the truth.
At the end of the corridor, he glimpsed Jack. He’d barely run a few paces towards him when the raging sound of wings heralded the arrival of the ravens flooding into the corridor. Church threw himself onto his back to avoid them. They swirled to block his path.
When they finally retreated, the corridor reverberated with the rumble of the first train of the day entering the station.
Tombstone dragged Church to his feet. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he yelled with anger born of incomprehension.
