[I] [II] [III] [IV] [V] [VI] [VII] [VIII] [IX] [X] [NOTES] [back][home] I Silence had fallen asleep, her head straight down on the desk, as though she's suddenly collapsed and fallen forward like in a film. Dorian and Judas walked in about five minutes after she'd sunk into unawareness, talking quietly, their steps unheard and easy. They were puzzled, at first, that nobody was at the reception desk. Every day that week, Silence had been standing up with a bright smile in greeting. "I wonder where Silence is," Dorian said, not really helping the situation much. Judas shrugged. He wandered up to the counter, behind which Silence was completely out, her gum wedged between her right back teeth and her hair spread out in a red and white sunburst. Judas was reading a heavy hardcover copy of Grant's autobiography, and he thumped it down on the high counter, much more forcefully than he'd planned. There was a dull thunk and Silence jerked her head up and half-yelled, "What?" Judas took a quick step back, his eyes surprised, and Dorian smiled a little. "Where were you?" he asked. "Almost into Montgomery Clift's arms, that's where. And he had on his cowboy outfit," she added ruefully. "Oh well. So what's up?" Dorian shook his head. "Nothing is up. We are back, though." "That's good," Silence grinned. "Hi, Judas." Judas gave her a small smile and looked down at the back cover of his book, missing the disappointment in her eyes that Dorian picked up right away. The priest suspected Silence had some sort of little crush on his brother. He, of course, did not say anything, to spare all parties any discomfort. He had no idea of his brother's thoughts. "I do have a question, Silence." Dorian stepped up and placed an arm on the counter. "Yeah? Go ahead." She stretched her gum out over her tongue than hastily sucked it back in. "Sorry." Dorian shook his head. At least two agents were always chewing gum, one because he'd quit smoking about eight times and, eight times, had supplemented his cigarettes with gum, which had failed. Silence was down to about two cigarettes a day, and seemed to have no intention of going any lower. Dorian had often seen her standing across the street with Harker, smoking and focusing up into the dark sky as though she'd find the answer to the man standing next to her. That man was the subject of his query. "Do you know where Harker is?" Silence looked up to the side, thinking. "Y'know, I think he's down in the library, probably sleeping or something. Yeah. He looked tired." She added after a short pause, quietly, "He always looks tired." "I'm going to go talk to him. I want to make sure he's changing his bandages. I have no idea what kind of infections can form, but I don't want to take chances." He didn't tell her about his fears, his guesses. She would worry, and he didn't want that. And she'd defend Harker. Probably with her life. Dorian turned to his brother, who was still standing unobtrusively, his eyes glancing over the summary and reviews on the cover. "Judas." Judas straightened quickly. "Yessir." "Are you still hungry?" Judas shrugged. "Yeah." "Why don't you and Silence go get something to eat? It's almost one." "Oh, I don't want to be a problem," said Silence, pretty convincingly conveying that she didn't need to go. Judas shook his head. "No, it's no problem." "Are you sure?" Silence ventured. Dorian wasn't one to smile, but he appreciated the little hope in her. It was touching, and he knew his brother needed some friends. "Yeah. We can, um, go eat." Dorian shook his head. "I'll see you later." II Harker wasn't asleep. He sat in a large armchair, staring into the high flames of the fireplace. His black cane rested against the side, near his right hand, the palm of which was bandaged. "Hello, Harker," Dorian said, announcing his arrival. "Hello," Harker responded. He lifted his head. "How do you feel?" asked Dorian. Harker's gaze slid back to the flames, and he didn't speak. "Harker, I need you to tell me about your nightmares." "Nightmares?" he repeated. His face remained set and still. "About the ebony blood. About the woman in white. About the dead horses." Something flashed in Harker's eyes, something apart from the flickering light from the fireplace, which was casting a deep, mysterious light on the immediate area. "Why do you say this?" "Because I know who you are, even if you do not." III "What are you having?" Silence asked. Judas shook his head. He stood with his arms crossed, staring up at the menu. "I don't know." "The chef's salad looks good to me. When you figure your order out, I'll go up and let them know." "Okay," Judas said. "I guess I'll have a iced tea and a, uh, pastrami sandwich." "Got it. Why don't you go grab a table?" She walked to the counter. Judas made his way to a small table, somewhat sticky and crowded into a corner. He sat down and opened his book. He'd read eight pages when Silence came back with the receipt. "We're number 85." She sat down and began looking around. Judas, unsure of what to do, remained sitting with his book open to page 139. "So, how do you like your book?" "Oh, it's good. Very good." He didn't close it. "I don't mind if you read," Silence said. "I'm sure you're at a good part." "Sort of." He still didn't close it, but he didn't return to reading. "Okay," Silence said, obviously unsure of what to do. She rubbed at something on the table with her index finger. "Judas?" "Yes?" "Um-okay, I have a question, if you don't mind. I mean, if you want to read, don't worry about it, but I was just wondering. . ." Her voice died off, uncertain. "No, it's fine." "Do you think Harker is okay?" "Why do you ask that?" "You mean apart from the whole resurrection, perpetual bleeding wounds thing?" Judas gave a small smile. "Yeah, I guess." Silence looked down at the table, then seemed to gather herself and looked straight into Judas' eyes as she talked. "We went to St Bede's in La Canada, and there were these-I don't know-some little girls on horses- all, like, like and look at my Abercrombie and Fitch shirt oh my fuckin' goodness-y'know?" She was speaking a little fast and Judas nodded. He'd caught it all, and he'd also caught her apprehension. "And they were coming around-okay-and I wasn't even sure if that trail over there is for horses-no idea-but we walked by them and their ponies and they started-um, the horses-getting really skittish as we walked by, and I was kind of-whoa, let's stay away, but Harker just walks right by and then in between them and the damn things are prancing and Harker's got that cane and the little girls are having trouble controlling the horses, so I follow him and right as we walk by, the horses just totally take off away from Harker and the girls are shrieking. And, you gotta understand, we were just walking. Horses don't get scared because people walk, especially ones that their owners ride up onto streets with." Judas didn't break the eye contact, but his own eyes darkened. Dorian had mentioned something- "But the thing is-the big thing-and I don't even like horses that much, by the way- Harker turned to look at them, and I was behind him, and when he spun around, his eyes were terrible. They were completely-I don't know-they were foreign and I've never seen anything like that. I was more scared of him that moment than I was when we walked by those idiot horses." Judas leaned forward. "Silence, has this ever happened before? Scared horses?" Silence sighed. "That's the thing. Once, the whole band went up to Mammoth, and we decided to go on a trail ride. We got to the stables or whatever, and we all signed the forms and everything and then the leader person started getting us onto the horses. None of the horses would go near Harker. The leader was practically sitting on her ass pulling on the ropes, and we were like, huh, stubborn horses. But the rest of us were mounted and they hadn't done that to us. Am I making any sense, because I'm sort of nervous now, just thinking about Harker's eyes. They hit me in the brain." They hit her in the brain? Judas thought. Silence gave a funny laugh. Judas noticed it wasn't the clear, bright laugh she normally used. "Sorry. It made my stomach turn. Is that better?" she asked with a wince. Judas nodded. This wasn't good news. IV Harker still hadn't moved, but Dorian was determined to get as much out of him as he could. "What," he asked, "do you know about Ebon X?" Dorian didn't actually look into his eyes as he asked this. His fingers were steepled and he gazed into the fire. "It sounds like a rocket ship or a bad film." Harker's voice was normal, and Dorian glanced up at him. His lips were settled into the almost-frown that he always wore, and his eyes were dark and low. "It isn't. It's the name of a demon. It's technically pronounced Ebon Ten, but he was called Ebon Ex. X." Harker barely nodded. "A demon." "Yes," Dorian said firmly. "A demon that was killed eight hundred years ago by a woman named Tala Jord. She cursed the demon, said that he was to suffer the same as his savior did." Dorian paused. "Jesus came to save everyone." Harker's eyes slid sharply over and hooked onto Dorian's. "Are you sure?" he asked harshly. "You're not just telling yourself that?" "Demons included," Dorian affirmed, his temper flaring up but quickly backing down. Harker didn't say more. "Tala Jord killed Ebon X because he was a monster. He was responsible, over a 76 year period, for the deaths of over 8000 men and demons, and 24000 horses." "Horses?" "Ebon X feasted on the flesh of horses. It lent him power. It gave him the darkness he needed to continue living the fast, furious life of violence. When Tala Jord killed him, in Constantinople, he was 90 years old, pretty young for his race." Dorian paused. There had been no reaction, no violent awareness, as he had feared. "He had nine sisters. Ebon I through IX, actually. This line, they were dark demons who drank the blood of those they slaughtered to gain their strengths." There was no response. Dorian wasn't sure how to say what would be coming later. He'd just keep telling the history. That was easy enough. Any scholar of demon-human history knew about the Ebon line. "Ebon X was the last born and the first boy, which was a relief to-" "How'd he get stuck with horses?" "Pardon?" DON"T TELL STORY HERE> GIVE TO HARKER TO READ FROM A BOOK< SILENCE CAN FLIP THROUGH IT< CONFRONT D OR J "How'd X get stuck having to eat horses?" "He was the only one who could catch them. There were wild hoses, then. Magnificent creatures of strength and power. Ebon X was the only one who could kill them, running along side them and attacking. Killed them with bare hands." "Isn't that magical." "No," Dorian said, ignoring the sarcasm. "It was his nature. The Ebon line was strong, it bred demons with superdemon strengths. The dominated that demons, but stayed away from them. Any who protested the slaughters were themselves killed. With ten of those running around, Tala Jord was lucky she killed Ebon X. He was the real power. Far stronger than his sisters. They were very focused on themselves, and, after a period, left most things alone. Ebon X continued to kill. It was a glory." "Then how did Tala Jord kill him?" "It's not clear. There don't exist many accounts, because Tala Jord died three days after. Killed by the sisters, who were more in a generally vengeful mood than acting out of despair of the loss of a loved one. They didn't love. Not the sisters. But the story of Ebon X- it varies depending who tells it, where you hear it, those sort of factors." "Where are the sisters now?" Harker interrupted. "Sealed in a glass prison that can only be broken from the outside." "Right." "One hundred years later, a group of mages banded together and performed the task. All nine died in the process." Dorian sighed. "Ebon X is the main concern, Harker. Two weeks, it seems, before Tala Jord killed him, Ebon X destroyed a convent in southern Ireland. One of the nuns reportedly-and this is highly doubted by many because there were supposed to be no survivors-prayed for Ebon, something nobody had ever done before. Just as he leaned over to kill her-he usually used a sword for human killings-, she cried out to the Lord to forgive Ebon X's poor damned soul." "Not that it worked," Harker said quietly. "Well, Ebon X was killed soon after that, by a blind woman-I didn't mention that, did I?" "Not that she was blind." "Tala Jord was a blind, sixty year old woman from Hungary. She killed him, but knowing that there was a great probability of his coming back, she, as I said before, branded him with the marks of Jesus." "That's interesting." Harker's voice didn't seem to agree with that. "Why tell me?" "Harker, where do you have wounds?" Dorian asked gently. "On my right hand and my left foot." "Jesus was pierced through his feet, his hands, and his side." "Yeah, well I don't exactly have the rest of those." "Harker, you've died once, been wounded several times, and in each incident, you've managed to heal amazingly well except for those two areas." "Father. Are you trying to tell me that you think I'm a demon from the Middle Ages with nine sisters and a taste for horse flesh?" It was perhaps one of the longest sentences Dorian had heard Harker utter, and he was surprised at the forceful sarcasm. "I have my fears," said Dorian calmly. "Your fears? I guess that would fit the idea of this Ebon X." Dorian knew Harker didn't believe him. That he wasn't even to the point of doubting. Just dismissive disbelief. For a moment, Dorian reflected on the absurdity of a man who had come back from the dead recently not believing something that would seem just as commonplace. Dorian shook his head and rose. The library seemed darker and more silent, more ancient and stern. Even the silly little fire wasn't trying anymore to push off the weight of the thousand of books and the old, worn furniture. He'd spent hours in here for the past few weeks reading up on the Ebon line, driven by a composed urgency that had developed after he'd started making the connections. It had been at the table, pushed up against the far wall, now in shadows, with only the little desk lamp to light up the area. He'd sat and pored over volumes that probably hadn't been opened since they'd been moved to this place. They'd had the familiar old smell of aging books. It brought him back to a lot of places, but none as much as the church where he and Judas had grown up. "I'll see you later," Dorian promised, and walked out. V "How much was my food?" asked Judas. Silence waved her hand. "Not a lot. Don't worry about it." "No, tell me. The sandwich was about three-seventy and the drink was one-ninety, right?" He shifted in his seat to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. "Nah. They gave it to me for free." Silence folded her napkin and placed it on the tray, now heaped with the wrappings and other trash. If it had been Jack or Arthur or Morris, she'd have joked, "Lady at the counter said she didn't want to charge a handsome guy like you," but she wasn't going to say that to Judas. Not unless she wanted to make an idiot out of herself, which she liked to avoid doing on purpose. "Let's get out of here." Judas stood up, a little stiffly, Silence noticed, and grabbed his book, then the tray. They threaded through the crowd, made up of people who seemed to be eating lunch a little late, and walked outside. It was cool, and Silence began buttoning her coat. "Do you want to walk back?" Judas asked suddenly. "The bus probably won't come for awhile." Silence shrugged in agreement. "Sounds good to me." They walked without talking for awhile. Five minutes later, Silence dug around in her coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Mind?" Judas shook his head. "Do you want one?" "Sure," he answered. Silence slid two out and handed one to him, then put the pack away. She lit it quickly, then handed the matchbox to Judas. "No lighter. Sorry. I didn't know you smoked." "I don't. Not often. But I do when I'm, um, stressed out." Silence a grey breath out. "Don't we all," she muttered. She glanced up at Judas. "You smoke like a European." Judas held the cigarette out in front of him, gazing at it. "Y'know, with your index and thumb." Judas nodded. "Habit." "Yeah." She looked up at the sky. It was grey. It had been grey for a long time. The sky had been grey when Harker's funeral had wrung out all the definition in her, and it had been grey the day of Morris' funeral, when just looking over at the casket or his mother had made her choke back painful and desperate sobs, and Dorian had put his arm around her when they got back in the car and she'd cried until her lungs felt like they'd come squeezing out of her eyes next. The sadness welled up in her and she took a long, harsh drag, then said, "So, how's your book?" "It's good. I like the style. Something you can appreciate." "Yeah?" "Grant was broke. He wrote it to get money for his family." Silence nodded. "Yeah. For when he died." That made her sad, too. She searched for something that would bring about positive subjects short of puppies. Thankfully, Judas spoke, seemingly emboldened by their little exchange. "I went to one of your concerts, once." CHANGE TO SOMETHING ELSE. HA HA HA HA "Really?" She didn't try to conceal her surprise. "In Tucson. About five years ago." "Wow. Wait-that was the one with the big fight. We never played in Tucson again." Judas nodded. "That one." "I remember that. I was terrified. And, y'know, I still don't have an idea what started it. They-security and all those people-were all, 'oh, some guys were drunk and they started a thing and it spread and people just got crazy', but that's not much of an explanation. We were really worried. I'm so glad nobody got seriously hurt. In fact, we're really lucky nobody was killed, like that other concert." She swung her head up to look at him. "You didn't get hurt, did you? Because we were like, shit, did we do something wrong? We were playing pretty mild stuff at that point." "Um, well-" Actually, he'd been stabbed in the leg by another demon and had had to limp out and get a taxi that didn't come with questions and then make it back to the hotel to find Martini to get patching up-"no. I got out right as it started. I saw the fight break out a few rows down." "Geez. This stuff. It's a load of shit sometimes, isn't it? Just idiocy and shit." "What makes you say that?" "I don't know." She shrugged casually. "First thing that came to mind, I guess." It was the truth. It suddenly seemed so absurd, fighting like that at a rock concert, as though there wasn't enough already, and for weightier reasons. VI Silence found Harker quickly, at sat in the chair Dorian had occupied when he'd spoke with Harker. "What's up?" Silence asked. Harker shook his head as Silence partially stood up and dragged the chair closer. "I went to lunch, but you said you weren't hungry, so I didn't get you anything," she quickly said. "What were you doing?" "Dorian came and spoke with me." "About what?" Harker moved so he faced Silence. His eyes seemed colder and Silence leaned back a little. "Demons." "Huh," Silence replied, thoughtfully. "Demons." Harker nodded, unsmiling. "Like what? Evil demons? Nice demons?" She thought of Judas, who'd gone to talk to his brother. "Dead demons," Harker said shortly. "That's all." VII "And the horses panicked?" Dorian affirmed. Judas nodded. "Yeah. That's what she said." "You know this isn't good." "I know. But what is Ebon X doing coming back now?" "I think the question that is more important is whether Harker is a reborn Ebon X, and has been since birth-meaning he is the demon, just with a new mind-, or if Ebon X entered Harker while he, Harker, was dead." "Silence said the horseback riding was before Harker died." Dorian rubbed his nosebridge, his eyes closed. "I'm going to talk to Tajala. She can start digging around for a spell that will get us more information. If Ebon X has been dormant for this long, he probably won't make a move." "What if Harker isn't even Ebon X? He's never displayed Ebon X's strength, his personality, his preferences. There are only a few things that point to it-" "They are fairly strong indicators," Dorian snapped. "The wounds, the horses, the resurrection." "I know that," Judas replied calmly. Dorian hadn't been getting much sleep, and Judas knew that it took a lot of stress to cause his brother to lose his patience. "But there are many demons that possess such. . . characteristics. I just don't want to get too worried too soon. Besides, even if it is Ebon X, maybe it's different. Maybe he's become a new being in the same, but broken, body." He observed his brother as he spoke, and saw Dorian's shoulders raise as he took a deep breath. "Maybe," Dorian agreed. "I'm going to go out and see what I can find. I'll ask around." He turned to leave, then added, "We probably shouldn't say anything about Ebon X or Harker to Silence." Dorian gave a small, slow nod. "Be careful," he said slowly. "And God be with you." VIII Silence parked her car and stepped out. The day was chilly and grey, the sun filtering through the clouds. There were no shadows. She walked up to the entrance to Jack's apartment building and punched in the security code, then stuffed her hands into her pockets as the lock buzzed. It always took along time, and the tips of her fingers were starting to notice the cold air. She quickly pushed the gate open and hurried up the outdoor steps to the fourth floor and Jack's apartment. She knocked rapidly, then took a step back. She glanced around at the building as she waited, yawning. The walls were a dull color and the grey light wasn't helping to brighten the area. She leaned forward and knocked on the door again. Jack was supposed to be home; he'd been visiting his sister in Bakersfield and had told her he'd be back on Tuesday. It was now Wednesday. Silence paused. Maybe he had meant next Tuesday. She reached down and twisted the doorknob. It was unlocked. She hesitated, unsure, then entered. Jack had most likely neglected to lock up. He had once left the gate of his car open and almost lost his amps on the freeway. The place was quiet and still; no air had come in recently. Silence walked over to the kitchen area and looked around. The answering machine blinked "2", and she pushed the "play" button. "Hi, this is Edward, from Verizon-" Skip. "Hey, Jack, it's Art. Um-oh-Brandon finally called back and said it's good to go for this Friday, so give me a call and I'll let you know the details. Can you let Silence and Harker know? Silence isn't answering the cell phone. She hasn't had it turned on. Tell her that Brandon wants to know if she'll play, too. And, let's see, we have to make a name. Yeah. And Norm said side projects usually check in okay with our label, but we'll have to see because Flowers isn't on it. Whatever. Call me, okay? I'll be home after six, but if I'm not, just let Trudy know. Bye." Silence looked around. She'd love to play with Art's new project. Obviously Jack hadn't called, because she'd heard nothing about it, and her cell was being exorcized by Tajala. Or at least in line to be looked at. But where was Jack? She glanced down at the phone again, as if the answer would appear on the display screen, and, for the first time, noticed a yellow post-it stuck to the actual phone. "I didn't see that before," she muttered. She picked it up and read it. Hi. Silence: call my cell. Jack. She waved the post it in the air a little, thinking. Had she told him she'd drop by? She couldn't remember. She couldn't, at the moment, even think of Jack's cell phone number. She searched through her tired mind. 626-something, of course. Everything was. 626-332-5907? No, that was her number. Now that she thought of it, she didn't think she had told Jack she was going to stop by. He'd been gone for a week, but as much as she thought, there was no memory of her talking with Jack about such a subject. Silence shook her head as she walked to the door, sticking and un-sticking the post-it between her middle finger and thumb. She carefully locked the door and made her way down to the courtyard. At this point, she turned right and headed down a short hallway that ended in the administration office. A young woman sat at a desk, reading a newspaper. "Hey, Sara," Silence said. Sara looked up, smiled, and set the paper down on the desk. "How are you?" "I'm great-listen, has Jack come back yet?" "Um... not that I know of. His car isn't in the garage, and he didn't check in. Everybody's supposed to when they get back from long trips, and he usually does. " Silence nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Sara." She turned and walked to the door. "Have a great day." IX Silence sat at the reception counter. Her feet were up at the waist high desk and she was digging through her purse trying to find anything she could possibly have written phone number down on or in. It was a luckless search, and she gave up in time to see Judas walk in the door. "Judas, hi," she said. He'd been gone for two days and Silence had felt a lot less awkward around the place. Judas didn't answer, and Silence rose. Standing up gave her a better view and she saw that Judas looked quite pale. It may have been the lighting, though. The reception area was light by a few ancient lamps; shadows painted the room and where there was light, it was dim and strange. Silence didn't like the lighting because it reminded her of all the things she couldn't see, and sitting with her back to the corners produced a prickly anxiety. Silence surmised that it wasn't the light that was causing Judas' wanness as he slowly fell, first landing on his knees, that collapsing heavily to the ground on his stomach. It took her a moment to process the situation, but as what had happened hit her, she snatched up the old phone and punched 3, which was labeled "Emergencies." "Who do you need?" a voice asked calmly. Silence hesitated, then stammered, "Dorian-anybody-Judas is back! The meds!" "Father Dorian Cringe. Paging. Please hold." "Okay." Silence picked the telephone up and, holding it aloft as she circled around the counter, stepped over to Judas and knelt down. She placed a nervous hand on his shoulder. Relief filled her as she saw his chest rising. "Hello?" a distant voice said. "Dorian? Father Dorian?" asked Silence hastily. "Yes. Is this Silence? What happened?" "Judas walked in about a minute ago and sort of, well, fainted." She looked down at his ashen face and saw it was tense, not at all relaxed the way the faces of the sleeping often are. "He's really pale," she added. "Stay there," Dorian ordered. His voice had hardened into brisk a tone. Silence felt so helpless just kneeling next to Judas that Dorian's taking charge worked to calm her down, and she took a deep breath. "Should I do anything?" "Roll him onto his side. Just in case." "Okay." There was a click, and Silence placed the phone back on the cradle. "Let's see," she said to Judas, who obviously couldn't hear her. She pushed-or at first she did, it came down to gentle shoving-him onto his side and sat with one hand on his arm so he didn't collapse back down. "Don't worry, Dorian's coming." Her voice worked to push away the heavy atmosphere of the room but she still felt a considerable amount of discomfort as she waited. Something was telling her there was something else in the room, something dark and lurking and most likely possessing malicious intentions. She tried to focus on Judas, who was still out. He looked beautiful. Silence chided herself. He was out cold; this wasn't really the time. But he really did look handsome. The poor lighting was for once doing good and had cast his face in shadows that accented his features. Across from her, on the other side of Judas, was a dull something lying on the carpet. She reached over and picked it up, finding the object to be heavy and warm. Judas had probably been holding it. It was brass, worked into an X with a long line through the center, which was cut into thirds by three shorter lines. She squinted as she examined it. The lamps reflected murkily in the dark metal, and she could almost see her face, distorted and distant. Come to think of it, she thought. That doesn't look like my face. It's kind of round-and- She barely grasped the sudden, dark, heavy pain that burst in the back of her head before she lost her grip on consciousness and fell forward. X "I'm sorry," Silence said miserably. She looked up at Dorian and pushed her ice pack, which was supposed to be helping her head, up farther. "It's not your fault," Dorian said, his voice gently suggesting she was being absurd to even think so. "I shouldn't have left you there. If I'd thought about it, I would have realized that something was up." Silence shook her head, discovered this was unwise, and turned her attention down the aisle of beds that stretched across the ward. "Is Judas okay?" Dorian's eyes slid in that direction, and he frowned. "I don't know. They won't let me over there yet." "How long?" "Five minutes." "I was only out for five minutes?" asked Silence, surprised. Dorian nodded. "Far as I can tell." "Look, I'm really sorry." "Why?" Silence stood, slightly wobbly, and Dorian reached out and grasped her arm. "I'm okay," she said smiling a little. Her head ached, but she didn't want Dorian worrying about anything past Judas at this point. But she had to tell him about the brass symbol. "I think Judas dropped this brass thing-but I guess it isn't there anymore." "There was nothing near either of you when we got there," Dorian said slowly. "What type of 'brass thing'?" "It was an X, with a line through it-up and down- and then three parallel lines through the first line." She traced the design in the air with her free hand. "Was the middle parallel line longer than the other two?" asked Dorian sharply. Silence bit he lip, thinking. "Yeah," she said slowly. "Are you sure?" The sudden importance of answering correctly threw her off. "Yeah-well, no, I-I can't quite remember. I was looking at it when I got hit." Dorian closed his eyes. "Would you recognize it if I showed you a drawing?" he asked quietly. Silence nodded, winced. "Hey, Dorian!" Will's voice came from the bed Judas was in. Dorian turned quickly, said, "Wait here," and swiftly walked over to Will, who quit motioning to him and pulled him over to Judas. Silence obeyed, standing awkwardly, acutely aware of the cold from the ice and the sterile light of the ward. "Hey, Silence!" Will called. "What?" "Come 'ere." Silence made her way over. Dorian took hold of her arm and steered her over to Judas' bed. "Look at this," he instructed, pointing, "is that what the design was?" Silence breathed in sharply. A raw, angry design had been burned into Judas chest over red cuts, straight and long, formed in a nonsensical pattern across his chest. "Oh, goodness. Yes." Her stomach tightened; she couldn't stop staring at the wounds. "Wait, wait," Will said slowly. He gestured at Judas' face; his eyelids were fluttering. "Silence," he rasped. He made a decent attempt at rising which didn't get very far. As he spoke, his eyes were unfocused, staring past anything that was real before him. "Silence-tell Silence- they have Jack." There was no sound for a beat; nobody was positive they had completely understood what Judas had said. The patient had left them again. His eyes were closed lightly and his breathing was harsh and labored, but measured. "Did he say-" Will began. "He said that they have Jack," Silence affirmed nervously. "Jack's in Bakersfield." It was the most reasonable thing. "Visiting his sister. I have a note from him and he wants me to-oh, fuck." She was angry, her voice betrayed that, upset that she'd forgotten and that there was a change something was wrong. "What?" Dorian inquired. Silence pulled out the post-it from her back pocket. "He said to call him, but I couldn't remember his number." "His cellphone?" Silence nodded. "Yeah. It's programmed into mine, but Tajala's got it somewhere." She looked for a long time at Judas. "Well, I'll get it," Will volunteered. "And, listen, Silence: Judas is pretty banged up. He might be"-He made a sign with his hands, tilting them up and down-"a little shaky." Stepping closer to his brother's side, Dorian said firmly, "I don't think so." Will shrugged, and jogged away. When Silence spoke, her words were hesitant and fearful of the reply. "Dorian-you think that Jack's in some sort of danger?" The priest let out a long breath before he answered. "I don't know. Judas doesn't speak lightly." "Will said that-" "I know. He may be right. Jack might be in Bakersfield." He calmly met Silence's eyes. "Do you believe that?" "No," said Silence in a small voice. She put both hands on one of the bars of the bed and looked down at Judas. Her long hair formed a red curtain, and when she spoke, Dorian could not see her face, but he knew her eyes were on his brother's wounds. "What happened to him?" Dorian hesitated. He didn't want to tell her everything he was suspecting. There was no need to arouse within her unfounded panic. He knew she was strong, he'd seen that over the last few months. He looked over at Judas. There was nothing he hated more than to see his brother injured, afraid, or in anyway disabled. Even after years of it, he couldn't help the basic anger that rose. Whomever had done this was not going to do it again. "I think," he said slowly, "that whomever it was who killed Harker the first time did this." Silence didn't move. "Who killed Harker?" "Somebody who wants him to live again." "That makes no sense," came the flat reply. "I know it doesn't." "They'd have to have known he'd come back." "I know." "Why did they. . . brand Judas like that?" "I think it's to show that they are in charge. That they have power to do this to one of our best. They are delivering a message that I do not understand." He gazed up at the end of the long row of beds, all thankfully empty. The light was cold and impersonal and depressing. "I should know, because they are telling me." Her head hurt already, and the added energy of deciphering Dorian's words wasn't making her feel much better. She was about to snap at him when she realized he didn't know. He'd told her that. His brother lay unconscious before him. He was going through much more than she was. She straightened and brushed her hair back. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Why?" Dorian asked. "Just that-well, Judas is like that-" she waved vaguely at his form"-and I'm being extremely insensitive, and-" Dorian too stood up straighter. His eyes met hers again and didn't move. "Silence. You must stop apologizing for everything you do." "But I-" "You were brought into this, and there is no reason why you should be kept in the dark. That doesn't mean I'm going to tell you everything, but you have every right to be a part of all that happens." Silence didn't speak, and Dorian was suddenly afraid that he'd said the wrong thing. Abruptly breaking eye contact, Silence turned her head to look at Judas. "I don't know." She shook her head absently. "I don't know what to do." With a faint smile, she said, "I hope Judas is okay." It was a weak attempt to change the subject, Dorian recognized that easily enough. "Got it!" Will called out. His shoes made harsh taps as he ran up to them, breathing hard. He handed the phone, a small cell with a plaid cover, to Silence. "Tajala said she fixed it." "Thanks." Silence accepted it and flipped the phone open. "Jack: 626 980-6855," she announced with a self-deprecating triumph, putting the phone to her ear. Dorian nodded encouragingly. "Jack?" Silence asked loudly. She repeated in a louder and tense voice, "Jack? Hello?" Her eyes narrowed as she listened. Dorian and Will leaned in closer, but couldn't hear anything. "Hey, Jack, it's Silence. It's about four on Wednesday. Can you call me back? On my cell? Talk to you later." With a sharp tap, she closed the phone. "Not picking up." Will shrugged. "Maybe there's no reception on the way back down," he suggested optimistically. "From where?" Silence asked disbelievingly. "Bakersfield." NOTES i. The library wasn't a cheery place. Surprisingly, Harker had hated it at first, finding it too dark, too quiet, and too oppressive. He'd written it off to years of living with Silence's energy; for a few moments, he'd resented her for it, but then had sank back into the frowning apathy that had grown since his last death. The atmosphere didn't bother him anymore. It was just dark, just quiet, and just oppressive. It didn't really matter anymore. There wasn't much that did, it seemed. The tall shelves were just shelves, the shadows were no more living than the immobile books. But even this realization didn't decrease the sense that was rising in him; the dark, the shadows, the dead books, the old carpet, and the bright fire were afraid of him. The book Dorian had given him rested on his lap. It was a medium-sized volume, and smelled and looked old. The pages were fragile and discolored. Dorian had put a thin ribbon in it, marking a page about three-fourths of the way into the book. The page he turned to appeared to be the start of a new chapter. Large, ornate letters read, "The Line of Ebon." Harker shook his head and turned to the next page. The few things Dorian had told him didn't aid his comprehension of the title. ii. "I'm living in a new world, Silence. I'm not afraid of anything. The world-the ghosts in the mirrors and the shadows and the sewers-they're afraid of me. They step away from me. Even-even you are scared. I can see it." "Harker, I'll never be afraid of you. I know you too well." Harker shook his head. "No. Because I am afraid of myself, and I'm beginning to see that there is nothing worse than that."