The Night Eternal

Nora raised her sword and was ready to strike when she heard four sharp cracks, dulled beneath the sound of the helicopter. It was a small rifle, the boy firing at them in a panic. Nora wasn’t hit but the bullets exploded awfully near. She moved away from Barnes and entered the underbrush. She saw Gus lunge for the boy and tackle him before he could fire again. He picked the kid up by his shirt, turning him toward the light, Gus making sure he wasn’t dealing with a vampire. Gus pulled the empty rifle out of his hand and threw it into the trees. The kid bucked, so Gus gave him a good shake, just violent enough to let him know what could happen to him if he tried to fight. Still, the kid squinted in the light, trying to pull away, genuinely afraid of Gus.

“Easy, kid. Jesus.”

He dragged the squirming boy back over the guardrail.

Nora said, “You okay, Gus?”

Gus wrestled with the kid. “He’s a lousy shot, so yeah.”

Nora looked back at the chopper. Barnes had vanished. She squinted past the helicopter light, searching for him, but to no avail. Nora cursed softly.

Gus took another look at the kid’s face there and noticed something about him, his eyes, the structure of his face. He looked familiar. Too familiar.

Gus looked at Nora. “Oh, come on,” said Gus.

The kid kicked at Gus with the heel of his sneaker. Gus kicked him back, only harder.

“Christ—just like your father,” Gus said.

That slowed the kid down. He looked at Gus, though still trying to pull away. “What do you know?” he said.

When Nora looked at Zack, she both recognized him at once and not at all: the boy’s eyes were nothing like she had remembered. His features had matured as any boy’s would have over a two-year period—but his eyes lacked the light they had once had. If the curiosity was still there, it was darker now, it was deeper. It was as though his personality had retreated into his mind, wanting to read but not to be read. Or maybe he was just in shock. He was only thirteen, after all.

He is hollow. He is not there.

“Zachary,” she said, not knowing what to do.

The boy looked at her for some moments before recognition crept into his eyes. “Nora,” he said, pronouncing the word slowly, as though having nearly forgotten it.

Despite the fact that there were fewer drones available to monitor the various potential automobile routes in northern New York State, the Master’s path grew ever more certain. The Master had viewed Dr. Martinez’s ambush through the eyes of Dr. Barnes’s security detail, until their violent release. Currently, the Master saw the helicopter in the highway, rotors still spinning, viewed through Kelly Goodweather’s eyes.

The Master watched as Kelly directed her driver down a steep embankment to an auxiliary road, driving fast, following the Explorer’s path. Kelly’s bond with Zachary was much more intense than her bond with her ex-mate Dr. Ephraim Goodweather. Her longing was much more pronounced—and, in this moment, productive.

And now the Master had an even better read on the infidels’ progress. They had taken the bait the Master knew would prove irresistible. The Master watched through Zachary’s eyes, sitting in the backseat of the automobile driven by Augustin Elizalde. The Master was all but with them there in the vehicle as they headed to rendezvous with Dr. Goodweather, who had possession of the Lumen and knowledge of the location of the Black Site.

“I am following them,” said Barnes, his voice crackling on a radio. “I will keep you informed. You have me on the GPS.”

And indeed, a dot was visible on the GPS. An imperfect, pale, mechanical imitation of the Master’s bond, but one he could share with the traitor Barnes.

“I have the gun with me,” said Barnes. “I am ready for your command.”

The Master smiled. So obsequious.

They were close, perhaps mere miles away from their destination. Their northern trajectory put them on a path toward Lake Ontario or the Saint Lawrence River. And if a water crossing was in order, no matter. The Master had Creem to ferry him across, if needed, as the gang leader was still nominally human but wholly under his command.

The Master directed the helicopters north at full speed.

Creem’s mouth hurt. His gums burned where his dented silver teeth were attached. At first he thought this was more lingering effects resulting from the elbow he had taken from Mr. Quinlan. But now his fingers were growing sore, enough so that he plucked the bling off his knuckles, giving his digits a rest, the silver jewelry piling up in the cup holder.

He didn’t feel right. He felt woozy and warm. At first he feared some sort of bacterial infection like the one that had claimed Gus’s man. But the more he looked into his rearview mirror at the Master’s dark, worm-writhing face, the more Creem grew anxious, wondering if the Master had infected him. For an instant, he felt something move through his forearm and into his biceps. Something more than a tingle. Something en route to his heart.