39 – Evil or Not

  Ward looked into the stable stall, taking in the weird ritual preparations he and Lisa had done with Grace guiding them every step of the way. Haley was back at the house, watching Keene. In the hour or so they’d been working, their prisoner hadn’t made any further attempts to escape. Something about the hood seemed to quell his violent outbursts. “That’s right,” Grace said, watching Lisa place a small copper pot atop a compact, oil-fueled camp stove. “Get the water boiling so it steams quickly when we add the blood.”

  Ward frowned, looking from the ritual circle to the horse on the other side of the stall. Grace had guided his hand as he drew the symbol on the animal’s flank using powdered chalk and egg whites. The glyph gave Ward an uneasy feeling. It was like glimpsing something primal, something out of place and time—half monstrous face and half word from an alphabet buried in time. The crude, sharp angles matched the pattern drawn on the stable floor. “How do you get a horse’s blood without it going nuts?”

  Grace smiled at him, clicking her tongue. “Gently. We’ll ask Haley to help with that after we’ve bound Keene here.” She nodded to the copper pot between the symbol on the floor and the horse. Haley had picked the animal—the smallest and oldest of the ones they’d taken from the hunters. The beast had one rotten hoof, and its teeth were black and yellow with age and neglect. Even so, considering what they had planned, Ward felt sorry for it.

  “We ready for them, then?”

  “Yes,” Lisa replied, “I’ll pound in the stakes and get the cords ready. Go and get them.”

  Ward grunted his assent and walked out of the stables, pausing to look over the treetops toward the city. He thought he could see a thin line of blue water and maybe some rough gray shapes that might be part of the city skyline, but he wasn’t sure. It was clearer at night when the lights shone in the dark. Haley and her prisoner were on the stoop leading up to the front deck, and he waved as he approached.

  Haley looked up. “Things coming along?”

  “Yep. How’s our customer?” Ward nodded to the hooded man.

  Haley smirked, shaking her head. “You’ve got a funny way of talking, Ward. I ever tell you that?”

  “Only a few dozen times.”

  “Don’t smile so much,” Grace quipped. “It feeds his ego.”

  Ward looked at her sideways. “We starting that again?”

  “No, no.” She shook her head, frowning, then grabbed his arm with both hands, squeezing him around the biceps. “I’m sorry, Ward!”

  Her neediness made him feel guilty, and he shook his head, reminding himself that she’d basically just been released from solitary confinement. “I’m teasing. You’re fine, Grace.” She smiled thinly and let go of his arm, then Ward crunched over the gravel to grab Keene, hoisting him to his feet. The man didn’t speak, but he hissed, and Ward got ready to fight to restrain him again. He didn’t struggle, though; he just stumbled over the drive as Ward dragged him toward the stables.

  “What’s going to happen?” Haley asked Grace, following close behind.

  “We’ll explain it when it starts. No need to upset anyone.” Grace winked at her and nodded toward their hooded prisoner.

  “Right.”

  Ward pushed Keene into the stable and then into the stall where the pattern was prepared. They’d painted it on wooden slats, nailed together, and laid out on the dirt floor. The chalky white paint was dry but could easily be scuffed, so Ward had taken his knife and carved it through the paint, etching the pattern into the wood. He held Keene still while Haley tied his ankles to stakes. “What are you doing?” the man asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

  “Tying you up so we can question one of your henchmen.” Ward was determined to keep the “passenger” in the dark as long as possible. Of course, the only henchman they could question had already sung his song and was tied up and gagged in another stall. When Keene’s ankles were secured, Ward untied his wrists so he and Haley could each take one, and then he lowered the man, squirming and cursing, to his back. Ward pulled a wrist to one stake, Haley to the other, and then he was tied, spread-eagled on top of the painted pattern.

  Haley looked at the horse. “What next?”

  Grace moved close to her and whispered, “We need a little blood from the horse. Just a small amount—even a drop will do.”

  “What are you doing?” Keene howled, straining against his bonds. The ropes were sturdy, but the stakes Lisa had pounded into the compact soil wobbled. Ward picked up the mallet and went to work, driving them each another six inches deep. Keene screamed and thrashed during the entire process to the point that Ward almost gave him a whack with the hammer. He still wanted answers out of him, though, so he held back, afraid he’d crack his skull.

  “Do you have a needle? And something like a vial?” Haley asked Lisa.

  Lisa nodded, went to her satchel, and pulled out a very slender knife. “Will this do?”

  “Yes. This horse’s gums are inflamed. They’ll bleed easily, and he’ll hardly notice.” She accepted a thin, finger-sized glass vial from Lisa, and then approached the horse. “An apple would help.”

  “Just a minute.” Ward went into the main stable room and began rooting through the saddlebags they’d hung up—stolen from their would-be killers. He found an apple in the second bag and brought it into the stall, tossing it to Haley. While she coaxed the horse with the apple, trying to get it to relax, Ward kept an eye on Keene. He had a feeling the thing inside him wasn’t going to go quietly. He saw Grace watching him and nodded toward the prisoner, pulling his knife halfway out of the sheath.

  “Wait until the last minute,” she whispered. Ward nodded; she was expecting an outburst as well.

  “Got it,” Haley said, stepping away from the horse, a slobbery vial with a surprising amount of blood pooled at the bottom in her hand.

  Grace pointed to the little camp stove. “Pour it into the pot.” The water was already boiling, and when Haley tipped the vial, spilling several bright red drops into it, Ward was surprised to see frothy bubbles form. Was the ritual already working? “Now, Ward.”

  Ward drew his knife and then stepped forward, kneeling beside Keene. Lisa hurried over with an empty tin cup. “There,” he said, nodding toward Keene’s right wrist, held suspended from the ground by the cords binding him to the stake. Lisa held the cup under his wrist, and Ward decisively slashed through a few exposed veins.

  “Argh!” Keene screamed, bucking and thrashing against his bindings. Ward saw the nearest stake start to pull out of the ground, so he stood and stomped on the man’s chest, holding him flat to the ground.

  “Do it! Hurry!” Grace cried, and Lisa jumped up, hurrying to the little bubbling copper pot, and dumped Keene’s blood in, adding it to the gelding’s. She stumbled back, nearly falling into the horse; the stall had tie-offs for two different horses and had room to keep them apart, but it was still crowded in there with Keene spread-eagled on the ground and the rest of them standing around.

  After recovering her balance, Lisa hurried to the doorway to stand beside Haley as pink steam roiled out of the pot and gathered in a cloud near the ceiling. Ward, meanwhile, continued to hold Keene in place as his thrashing grew more and more severe. “How long?” he asked, glancing at Grace, who was abusing her non-corporeal nature and standing atop the divider between stalls. The horse whinnied loudly. Its eyes went white and began rolling around in the sockets, then it snorted and whinnied again, stamping its feet. Ward worried it might break free, but they’d secured it well with four different leads.

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  “Not long! You should get out of the circle, Ward!”

  Ward realized Keene had gone rigid and wasn’t thrashing about, so he stepped back, moving off the wooden planks where they’d scrawled Grace’s ritual circle. As he watched, the pink-hued steam coming out of the copper pot drifted in thin streamers toward the horse and the hooded man, and when the two inhaled the stuff, they went utterly still. “Watch now,” Grace hissed, excitement in her eyes. And watch, they all did.

  As the steam, somehow directed to the horse and Keene via the runic glyphs, continued to billow out of the bubbling pot, the horse’s eyes continued to roll, and a strange, nasally groan came from within the prisoner’s hood. After several seconds, the groan hitched and stopped, and then, with a loud gasp, Keene exhaled. At first, Ward thought he was just gasping for air, but then some black, oily smoke seeped out of the cloth hood, gathered in a cloud, and floated directly toward the wide-eyed gelding’s nostrils.

  As the smoke went into the creature, its unnatural stillness broke; it began to stomp and buck, straining against the ropes securing it in place. “What will happen to it?” Haley asked, her voice hushed.

  Grace replied, reaching out as though she could comfort Haley but stopping short, her fingers inches from her shoulder. “It’ll be wild with the passenger’s wrath for a while, but entering a beast is a death sentence for creatures like me or it. The horse’s mind is full of impulses and instinct and very little thought. The passenger will struggle against it for a while, but eventually, it will succumb to the animal’s simplicity—it will subside and want for nothing more than its next meal, the sunshine on its back, and the closeness of the herd. It will die when the animal dies.”

  “Is it done, then?” Ward stepped toward Keene.

  Grace nodded. “Yes. You can bring him into the house.”

  Ward cut the bindings holding their prisoner to his stakes, then hoisted him onto his shoulder, amazed at the ease with which he lifted a full-grown man. With Haley and Lisa close behind, he carried him across the drive and into the house, dropping him none-too-gently into a chair. Eager to see the results of the ritual, he pulled the hood off his head. When Keene’s head lolled to the side, his eyes closed, Ward slapped his cheek, jostling him roughly.

  Grace took hold of his wrist before he could slap him again. “Give it a minute, Ward. His mind’s been subdued for who knows how long.”

  Lisa cleared her throat. “He might not be all bad, Ward. That demon…or whatever was inside him”—she glanced at Grace with something like an apology on her face—“might have been controlling him.”

  Grace squeezed his wrist. “She’s right. That thing was malevolent. You saw the quality of its aether.”

  “Huh? Aether?”

  “The being’s, um, energy, I guess. The quality of its noncorporeal form?”

  “She means the black smoke,” Lisa clarified.

  Grace looked at her quizzically. “It looked like smoke to you? To me, it looked like a cloud of shadow—dark energy.”

  Ward grunted. “Like greasy smoke to me.”

  “And me,” Haley added.

  “Interest—” Grace started to say, but then Keene coughed and gasped, and his eyes flew open. He looked around, blinking, clearly confused by his surroundings.

  “Wha—Where am I?”

  “Quiet, Keene,” Ward growled, leaning close. “I’ll be asking the questions.”

  “Who are—”

  Ward grabbed his shirt and twisted the material until the collar tightened around the other man’s throat. “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw your eyes moving around while we were talking. You know where the fuck you are.”

  “F-fine!” he sputtered, flecks of saliva dotting his lips.

  Ward loosened his grip. “So, start talking. How long was that thing inside you?”

  “Months. I—” He broke into a fit of coughing, and Ward backed away, watching his face grow redder and redder as he tried to hack something up. Eventually, the fit subsided, and Keene turned to the side, spitting toward the fireplace with poor aim; a glob of mucus hit the stone hearth and dripped down the side. Ward looked away in disgust as Keene continued, “I wasn’t in control! Miss Lisa! I wouldn’t work against you and yours; it's those things! Half the Oathbound are infected!”

  Lisa stepped closer. “You remember me?”

  “Of course! I did a hundred jobs for your father!” Keene was breathing heavily, rubbing at his wrists where he’d been bound, but he didn’t seem like he’d be violent.

  “Why the playacting?” Ward asked, pulling a chair closer to sit before the man. “Why pretend you didn’t know where you were?”

  “I…” Keene licked his lips and looked from Ward to Lisa and Haley.

  “They don’t have the answer, buddy; you do.” Ward shifted his chair closer, looming over the man.

  “I thought you’d all be more forgiving if you thought I didn’t know what I’d done while that—that thing was inside me.” Ward noticed moisture building in his bloodshot eyes as Keene continued. “I knew, though. I knew what I was doing, and, gods damn me, but I didn’t care. It was like my heart, my kindness, my feelings were turned off! All I wanted was what the demon wanted.” He shrugged, rubbing a sleeve over his eyes. “Kill me! I deserve it.”

  “He doesn’t,” Grace said, and everyone but Keene turned to look at her. “He couldn’t help it; the ‘demon,’ as he called it, locked off parts of his mind and probably manipulated his hormones—he was getting endorphins for doing what the demon wanted and probably loaded with testosterone. He wasn’t himself, and he definitely wasn’t calling the shots.”

  “Can you do that?” Ward asked.

  “No! My kind; we can manipulate anima, but we have to use persuasion to get people to do what we want. Ward, I’ve been honest with—”

  “Can I do what?” Keene asked, watching Ward seemingly stare into space.

  “Forget it,” Ward said, waving a hand. The words were meant for both Keene and Grace, but she still looked troubled, folding her arms and looking down. He knew what was bothering her; they’d all just witnessed the “bad” kind of passenger, and she was afraid everyone was judging her differently. He’d have to talk to her later, but at the moment, he needed answers. “Keene, what’s going on with Dame—”

  “Ruby!” Keene interrupted. “She’s working with members of the Circle! I’m sure she’s infected with one of those demons; when I had it in me, I could tell when it felt safe to speak openly. She was one of the people telling me what to do. She has a nephew who’d been operating in the Copper Valley, hunting for the artifact we stole from you. His man, Sonder Yates—”

  “Sonder!” Haley spat, slamming a fist into her palm. “Again, that bastard’s name comes up, tied with this foul cult! What vile fate has bound his misdeeds to me, Ward?”

  “I don’t know, Haley, but…” Ward frowned, looking at her. “Goddammit, we haven’t sent those letters. I wonder if the marshal—"

  “Sonder is here!” Keene interrupted. “He’s here with Roddal LaVore—the dame’s nephew! They intend to bind him to the artifact; they’ve been preparing him for days.”

  “Wait!” Haley stepped closer, leaning over the man, her weird pale eyes drilling into his. “Sonder Yates is in Westview and about to be bound to the same artifact that twisted Nevkin’s mind?”

  “N-Nevkin?” Keene’s eyes darted toward Ward, desperately seeking something—an answer or perhaps just protection from Haley’s seething anger.

  “The man who last gave his blood to that thing,” Lisa replied, saving Ward the trouble.

  “Yes, perhaps! P-perhaps he didn’t prepare himself properly. This man, Yates—he’s been fasting, and before they take his blood for the ritual, they’ll put one of those demons in him!”

  “We need to get to him, Ward. If the marshal couldn’t stop him, then I’ll have my vengeance.” Haley looked at him, and Ward could see the cold anger brewing behind her eyes.

  “I hear you, Haley. We’ll deal with Sonder Yates, but we need a plan.” He looked at Lisa. “Can you get some paper and a pen?” She nodded and started out of the room while Ward turned back to Keene. “You’re going to write down everyone you think might have one of those demons, and then you’re going to help us come up with a plan to get inside Dame Ruby’s estate. That’s where this is all happening, right?”

  “Yes!” Keene nodded emphatically. “Yes! I can do that! There’s a way—a river gate. She always has us come and go via that entrance because it’s out on her estate lands, away from the roads. There’s a tunnel and—”

  “Hold on,” Ward growled. “Wait for Lisa.”

  Haley started toward the kitchen. “I’ll get him some water.”

  Ward nodded and watched her go, wondering what to say to her. It was more than strange that Sonder Yates was involved in this situation. What were the odds? Like most veteran cops, he’d grown very suspicious of coincidences over the years, and this felt too strange. Grace stared at him, and his thoughts must have been pretty loud because she stepped close and whispered, “It may simply be fate. It could also be that we’re in a small, relatively sparsely populated corner of the Vainglory System. There aren’t that many evil schemes going on around here; the idea of evil people being involved with each other isn’t so hard to imagine.”

  “Evil.” Ward shook his head. “Is there such a thing? Or are some people just fucking bad?”

  “However you look at it, there’s a reason Yates moved on Haley’s parents. There’s a reason he was gathering wealth. He was likely corrupted by greed at first, but when he started working with this LaVore fellow, the ‘dame’s’ nephew”—she made air quotes around ‘dame’s’—“perhaps he was made privy to a whole new level of greed and evil. And, yes, Ward,” she added, her eyes flickering brightly in the dim room, “I believe in evil.”

  Ward nodded, folding his arms. His eyes grew hard as Haley and Lisa returned to the room, and he looked at Keene. “Evil or not, Sonder Yates has something coming to him. Start talking, Keene. How do we get into that place?”

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/104908/neon-dust-progression-cyberpunk