Chương 36: Chapter 35 - Abraxas

An instinct—a wild, fierce tickle of my derpy lizard (or rabbit) brain—told me that I couldn't handle this by myself. I told Abraxas to stay there, turned to Kappa, and ordered him to fetch Iset. Kappa leapt from Conrad's shoulders and scampered away at full speed. A minute later, Iset rounded the corner and came into view.

"Ah!" Abraxas said.

"You must be the legendary Iset—""Shut your mouth," Iset said as she walked toward us.

"For now, you will not speak unless you are asked a direct question. If you don't like those terms, you can leave." I almost took a step back. I knew Iset could get angry—I'd seen it just that morning—but this was different. She wasn't mad. She was as hard and cold as a slab of marble. Abraxas's smile folded into a slight frown. He looked away and raised his left hand in a simple flourish, as if inviting her to go on. Iset stopped beside me and muttered, "Emerra, be careful what you say. Let me talk."

I pressed my lips together, clamped my teeth shut over them, and gave her a thumbs up. Yes, ma'am! No problem! Mouth shut. She turned back to Abraxas.

"How did you get here?"

"I was summoned," he said.

"Has there been a deal?"

"There's been no deal of any kind. I'm only here to talk."

"Why didn't you come inside?"

"Miss Cole forbade me from doing that." Iset's head turned toward me, but then she fixed her attention back on the demon.

"Do you think you can help us?" she asked. Abraxas's smile, moving like honey, widened.

"My dear lady, I think I'm one of the very few people who can. I also think it'd be more comfortable to discuss these matters if we were all sitting down." He waved his hand in front of his nose.

"There's also the matter of that rather unpleasant stench coming from the large pile of remains that I saw on my way in here." He put his hand to his chest and contrived to look concerned.

"Breathing air like this can't be good for the young ones." After eying the demon for two seconds, Iset turned to look down the hall. Igor was standing in the door of the kitchen, glaring at Abraxas with both eyes. Is that who she turns to when she needs an answer? When Iset looked at him, Igor rolled his eyes and said in a voice loud enough to be heard through half of the house, "Oh, why the hell not? It's not like he can make anything worse."

Iset turned back to Abraxas and proceeded to give him a set of rules and instructions that he had to agree to before he could come inside. An entire law school, working together, couldn't have done a better job, even if they press-ganged the professors into helping. I'd always seen Iset's knowledge and intelligence as a blessing. I'd never considered what it would look like weaponized.

There were a lot of rules in that agreement, but the clause that struck me as being particularly important was the one about how Abraxas would leave when asked, without objection or delay. While Iset was busy laying down the law, Igor went to take off his apron and get his ax. I told myself he was being cautious about the zombies. After Abraxas had agreed to the terms, he was allowed across the threshold. Iset led him to the library.

Conrad, Igor, and I followed behind them with Igor grumbling under his breath the whole way. Mrs. Park was already there with Kappa. She knew who I'd been trying to call, so she wasn't completely surprised to see a stranger in the house—but she did look surprised. I wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Probably a handsome man in a nice suit. With perfect hair. As far as I could see, the only thing about his appearance that had changed was the color of his tie. This time it was a shiny royal blue.

Abraxas looked around as he entered. The debris from the spiral staircase was heaped in the corner. Conrad had done his best to set the overturned bookshelves back in place, but some of them were crooked. Others were busted. On top of the shelves were piles of damaged books that Mrs. Park and Iset had set aside to be repaired later.

There was more light in the library than in most of the rooms, but that was because the boards that Conrad and Igor had used to board up the windows had to be spread out to cover them all. Crooked blocks of light came through the gaps, shining off the dust in the air. Shattered glass had been piled under the broken windows, and if you looked too closely, you could still see smears of blood on the furniture and floor.

"I can't say I like what you've done with the place," Abraxas said, "but I suppose it was more of a practical choice." None of us so much as smirked at his joke. Abraxas walked into the middle of the room. There was a seating arrangement gathered around a large square coffee table. He claimed one of the two armchairs, sprawled into it, and watched, with a pleasant smile on his face, as we fanned out and took our various positions around him.

Igor elected to stay next to the end of a nearby bookshelf so he could lean on it and finger his ax menacingly. Mrs. Park sat down on a slim wooden chair that was outside the seating arrangement but close enough for her to see everyone. Kappa crouched on her lap, his belly against her legs. He glared at Abraxas with narrowed eyes, and every once in a while, his nose twitched as he tried to sniff out what was going on. Conrad stood immediately behind the small couch across from the armchairs. His arms were crossed.

Iset and I were sitting together on the small couch. Abraxas started talking before my butt had finished settling into the cushion.

"If you'll permit a little small talk, I'd like to say it's nice to finally meet you, Iset." Iset's voice hit the perfect pitch between cordial and flat, as if to say, I'm not going to be rude, but we're not friends.

"You've heard of me?"

"Your name floats around. I've heard it from time to time, often coupled with Big Jacky's. I've always wondered—and now I know. You've been with him a long time, haven't you?"

"I have." Abraxas waited, but that was all Iset had to say on the matter. He nodded, then let his all-white eyes rove over the rest of us.

"Quite an interesting collection of people," he noted.

"I thought I knew most of the sentient species from this world." He raised a hand to motion to Conrad.

"May I ask—""You may not," Igor said.

"Who we are is no business of yours." Abraxas's perpetual smile tightened, but he flipped his raised hand into an easy-going shrug, then brought it back to his lap. He eyed Igor's many injuries as he said, "I'd ask how you're doing, but I think the honest answer would change this from small talk into something else."

"We're surviving," Igor said. Oh! That was a good line. It was short enough to qualify as a small-talk answer, and it said absolutely everything that needed to be said. Offered in Igor's grumbling drawl, it also contained at least eighty percent of the relevant emotions.

"An impressive feat!" Abraxas said.

"This can't be an easy situation for you."

"What do you know about our situation?" Iset asked. It could have sounded like a challenge, but Iset's gentle voice changed it into a simple question. Abraxas laced his bright red hands together and let them rest on top of his crossed legs.

"Well, there were all those remains—never a good sign—and, of course, I had to come here." It was no use. I might have been able to keep my mouth shut if my life depended on it, but I was pretty darn sure that wasn't what my life depended on at the moment. The question escaped before I could stop myself.

"You know where we are?" Abraxas turned his attention to me. I felt the urge to shiver, but my body was too heavy and tired to manage it. I'd have to shiver later.

"I do," he said.

"You're between dimensions. In a null space."

"How do you know that?" Igor demanded. Abraxas let out a one-breath laugh.

"That's rather a nonsense question. I'm a demon. I know where I am in the dimensions." His eyes moved from one person to the next. When they passed over Kappa, the bog-monster tried to flatten even more.

"But I assume that none of you are aware of the particulars. I could enlighten you, if you'd like."

"In exchange for what?" Iset asked. Abraxas offered an exaggerated frown and shook his head while scowling. It was obvious to everyone in the audience, even the ones in the far back, that he was perplexed.

"Nothing."

"Demons don't do things for nothing," Igor said.

"A stereotype," Abraxas rejoined.

"An accurate one." Abraxas lounged deeper in his chair. His elbows went out to the arm rests, and he brought his hands together in front of him. He let the tips of his two long index fingers bounce off each other while he gazed up at the ceiling.

"There are some philosophers who've argued that all human actions are inherently and unavoidably selfish. If a gentleman helps someone else and he gets no obvious reward, he doesn't do it out of 'the kindness of his heart.' They say that he does it because he enjoys the happy feeling he gets doing it. See? Selfishness." His eyes moved back to Igor.

"Have you read those philosophers?" Igor's lip lifted in a sneer.

"I prefer a good western."

"I've read them," Iset said. Abraxas looked at her.

"What do you think of their perspective?"

"I think it doesn't matter what you call it, as long as people help each other." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Abraxas grinned. My heart rate sped up.

"A practical soul," the demon said.

"I approve." He added abruptly, "Does it feel good, by the way? To help someone?" When his eyes met mine, I knew—I saw— that he was serious. This was no test of character. No small talk. He was asking a question he wanted the answer to because he didn't have it. The ground opening up underneath me couldn't have made me feel more displaced.

"It depends," I said. I'd forgotten that I was supposed to stay quiet. This was a conversation between my eyes and the demon sitting in the chair across from me. It felt like I was the only one who could answer.

"On what?" he asked.

"It doesn't work if you're doing it out of guilt or if you're mad about it." I smiled at the irony of it all and how inadequate words were.

"It only works if you're doing it out of the kindness of your heart."

"Huh." Abraxas watched me for a second, then turned to address the whole room.

"This situation is something like that. I don't need a reward from you—""You're doing it because you're such a kind soul?" Igor said. I didn't know you could put that much contempt into a question without gagging on it.

"No, it's a different kind of selfishness. We demons value Big Jacky's good opinion. Here I have his house and his people, in trouble. By helping you, I help myself." There were a few seconds of silence. For all I knew, a half dozen glances were being exchanged around me. I was too busy staring at Abraxas to notice. Iset said softly, "Emerra?"

"He's telling the truth," I said. But it was truth like an ocean of water or a sky full of air. I could drink it, but I couldn't drink it all. I could breathe it, but I couldn't breathe it all. I let out a groan, shut my eyes, and pressed on them with the palms of my hands. My head was pounding. Iset laid her hand on my leg.

"What can you tell us?" she said to Abraxas.

"I can tell you the whole nature of the spell that's holding you here." I forced myself to lower my hands and open my eyes. I needed to pay attention. This, my life probably depended on.

"Holding us?" Iset said.

"Yes, holding you," Abraxas repeated. He tilted his head.

"You're not a magician, are you?"

"No."

"Then, please, allow me to explain."

"Oh, please do," Igor said. Abraxas relaxed even further. I don't know how he managed it. He was like some kind of cat, lolling in the sun. You think they can't get any more liquid without soaking into the carpet, then you scratch their heads just right, and they invent a whole new level of repose.

"Most spells," Abraxas said, "go off like a gun— bang!" Mrs. Park jumped, then put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes. Kappa patted her arm to make her feel better. Abraxas went on, his voice calm and cool.

"The bullet flies, there's a lot of smoke, and then it's over. The spell's had its effect, and it's done. This spell, however, isn't like that. When it went off, it was like someone grabbing onto the loose end of a rubber band that's fixed in place. They pulled it tight and held it there. If you want things to go back the way they were, you don't have to unwork consequences or turn back effects.

All you have to do is get them to let go of the rubber band, and"—he snapped his fingers; the crack was louder than his pretend gun shot—"there you are. Everything snaps back into place."

"How do you know this?" Iset asked. Abraxas started moving through a modest shrug but stopped when Igor spoke.

"She means, how do we know it isn't you pulling on the rubber band." Abraxas's smile shifted into a frown.

"It pains me to admit it—seeing how easy it is for people to paint all infernals using the same brush—but this spell was the work of a demon." He looked in my eyes.

"It wasn't me." I couldn't see anything this time, but the way he looked at me made me believe him anyway. Abraxas continued, "Because of how closely aligned we are with our magic, I could sense what was going on the moment I arrived. Something set the spell off. I don't know what. You were pulled partway out of your dimension, and you're being held here by that spell, but you're still connected to your place in the world." Mrs. Park said, "Is that why we could see outside the…"

She circled her finger while pointing at the ceiling.

"The cage?"

"I assume so," Abraxas said.

"If you want to go home, all you have to do is find the part of the spell that's holding you here and destroy it—but I would encourage you to hurry."

"Why?" Iset asked.

"Matter beings—people like you —can't survive in the null." I brushed my fingers over one of my ears. The sensation I'd felt—heard? — whatever —was finer than the whispers of air you got when you moved around on a windless day, but it was there, and I'd felt it enough, I knew what it meant. He hadn't said "matter." He'd used another word, and my gift of understanding had interpreted it for me.

"There's a lot of magic going into keeping you alive right now," Abraxas said, "and I'm sure that you've figured out, it won't last forever. That thing you called a cage is actually a protective space. Not only is it collapsing, but you're also drifting further away from your dimension as time goes on." I pictured the two halves of the leaves, a foot apart, and the misty world outside the barrier that was getting harder and harder to see.

"If we don't get you home soon," Abraxas said, "your friends won't even be able to collect what's left of you."

"Are there any more zombies?" I asked.

"Zombies? Is that what they were? Oh, dear. But I suppose that would make sense."

"You didn't know?" Iset prodded.

"No. I can only sense spells that are related to the demon's work. Whatever's raising those zombies, it isn't a part of that, so, unfortunately, I can't tell you if there are any more."

"By the demon's work, you mean the spell that's holding us suspended out of our dimension?"

"Yes."

"Is the protective space a part of that spell?" Abraxas watched Iset for longer than I was comfortable with. Igor took a step toward us. When Igor started moving, Abraxas answered: "It's something else. It wouldn't surprise me if they were connected in some way, but they're two distinct spells. If you know anything about the spell, I could look into it and tell you more."

"I'll remember that you offered," Iset said. That was a dodge if ever I heard one.

"How do we destroy the thing that's holding us here?" Conrad asked. My ears perked up. Yes. Please. That question. I wanted to know more about that.

"If the spell is tied up in a physical anchor of some kind," Abraxas said, "then destroying the item should be enough to do it. That isn't the hard part. The hard part will be finding it in time. It could be virtually anything. It might be within the protective space—but, then again…"

"Do you know where it is?" Iset asked.

"Not at the moment. It's easy to sense the general shape of the spell, but I'd need more time to find the location of the anchor. The good news is that I'll be able to sense it when I get close—""Thank you, Abraxas," Iset said, "but that won't be necessary." She stood up. I could not believe my ears. If I hadn't been so stunned, I might have stuck my fingers in them and wiggled them around. As I stared at Iset, the emptiness of my shock morphed into an even emptier sense of dismay. She was serious.

Abraxas slowly rose to his feet. Maybe it took him longer because he'd lounged too deep. He had to extract himself three times.

"Forgive me," he said.

"I think I misunderstood. You're saying that you don't want my help finding the spell's anchor?"

"That's correct."

"Even though I can sense the magic without difficulty and none of you are magicians."

"That is also correct." Abraxas took a step toward Iset. So did Igor and Conrad.

"Ms. Iset," the demon said, "I've already explained why I'm willing to help you, and while I don't like to dwell on bad news, I feel compelled to remind you that your time is running out—rather quickly!"

"I'm aware." Abraxas drew in a deep breath.

"You don't trust me. But Miss Cole said that she did—" Igor interrupted him: "Emerra never said that. She said you were telling the truth." When Abraxas looked at him, Igor went on.

"That's reason enough not to trust you. We expect demons to deceive people—but one who's telling the truth?" Igor clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Who knows what you're up to?"

"Thank you for your help, Abraxas," Iset said.

"If we make it back alive, we'll tell Big Jacky what you did for us, but now I'm asking you to leave." Abraxas was a practiced smiler. He'd trained his resting face to include a tiny upward arch at both ends of his mouth. To me it looked like some unholy expression of sinister amusement, but that was probably because I saw it fit into the face of a demon. To anyone else, it must have looked friendly. But even that smile failed. Abraxas didn't frown, but the absence of the ever-present smile said volumes.

"Igor," Iset said, "please escort him out."

"Of course," Igor said. I felt like someone was pulling hard on two ends of my nerves. It was clear from the way Abraxas stared, and the way his hands clenched and unclenched, there was more he wanted to say. It didn't seem possible for him to keep his word about leaving without objection or delay. But then he raised both hands in surrender and turned to Igor. When Igor motioned for him to go first, Abraxas led the way out of the library.

My shoulders relaxed, and I turned my eyes to the block of sunlight at my feet. I watched the dust swirl and float as I tried to sort through my thoughts and feelings.

"Iset—" Mrs. Park said. Iset raised her hand to stop her.

"Conrad?" Conrad's muzzle and ears were focused on the arch that Abraxas had left through.

"He's leaving, but I don't know how good their hearing is."

"Can't he just disappear?" I asked.

"They prefer not to do it around people," Iset muttered.

"Why?"

"No one knows." Mrs. Park stewed in her best attempt at patience for a few more seconds, but then she couldn't hold back. At least when she spoke, she whispered.

"Iset, why didn't you accept his help? He said he didn't want anything in return! All we had to do was let him look around." Iset shook her head.

"I couldn't do that. Not in this house."

"But why not?" Iset turned to Mrs. Park. Because of how the chairs were arranged, that meant she turned toward me as well. I could see the sorrow. It bled out of the bandages. It was in her voice.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Park. I can't tell you." Mrs. Park's face went stern, but then it crumpled. She started petting Kappa.

"It's all right, Iset. I apologize for pressing you. We're all under stress here. No one needs to be pressed."

"What are we going to do?" Conrad asked.

"We have to search the house," Iset said.

"Everywhere. As much as we can—including the third floor." My eyes widened, my palms started sweating, and a boa constrictor of pure fear wrapped itself around my stomach and squeezed.

"Won't that be dangerous?" Mrs. Park asked. Oh, yes. Yes, it would! We'd had that excruciating debate earlier in the day. Was it more dangerous to stay inside a collapsing house or go outside where there were no walls to protect us from the increasingly athletic zombies? None of us had bothered to say that, if we stayed inside, we'd stay on the first floor. Being on the third floor was playing Russian roulette with a ticking clock.

"The protective space is collapsing," Iset said, "not just the house. If we don't find that spell, being outside won't spare us."

"Abraxas said that it could be anywhere," Conrad pointed out.

"It could be, but I think that's unlikely."

"Why?"

"The barrier isn't a cage to keep the zombies or some poor victim inside. It's a protected space that was carefully constructed to give us both light and gravity. That tells me that someone was meant to be in the mansion when the spell went off, and Northrop wanted to keep that someone safe. That someone was likely himself."

"But it's drawing from a limited source," Conrad pointed out.

"It was never meant to be permanent."

"Yeah," I piped up.

"That doesn't sound very safe to me."

"What if it was only meant to stay up for a limited amount of time?" Iset said.

"Something much shorter than the time we've been here? The demon's spell would've held the mansion outside the dimension long enough for Northrop to do whatever he intended to, then he could destroy the spell's anchor and return the mansion to where it was. That means that the anchor would need to be in the protective space with him." Conrad nodded. I thought I glimpsed a hint of life and excitement in the motion. The poor wolfman hadn't heard Igor's lecture about the dangers of hope.

"That makes sense," Conrad said.

"And if that's what he was up to, then it's more likely to be in the house where Northrop would have easy access to it." I had heard the lecture about the dangers of hope, so I had no excuse for the small glow of vicious enthusiasm that was growing in my chest. We had a real, concrete, actionable goal: search and destroy!

"Do we have any idea what the anchor might look like?" I asked. Mrs. Park said, "I thought Abraxas said that it could be anything."

"It could be," Iset said, "and given how much Mr. Northrop liked to use physical objects in his spells, we'll need Emerra to look at everything—" I rushed to remind her, "I can't see trap magic."

"This isn't a dormant spell," she reminded me.

"It's active. You should be able to see it, no matter what it's attached to." I nodded. Active magic. Yes. Good. I needed it to be something obvious. I didn't want all our lives to depend on the more subtle traits of my magical eyes that may or may not be in the mood to work. Iset went on, "But I think it's more likely that we're looking for a document. It would be something high quality. Probably vellum."

"Why do you think it's a document?" Mrs. Park asked.

"Because a demon created the spell, and demons like to use contract magic. In this world, that usually means blood-on-stone or parchment and ink, and parchment would be easier to destroy." Wariness snaked its way through my brain, leaving an icy trail wherever it went.

"Abraxas didn't mention that," I said. I had believed him—I had vouched for him—but now I had my doubts. Maybe my eyes were less dependable than I thought. I wanted to take them out, huff some warm air on them, and rub them with my T-shirt to make sure they weren't grimy. If Abraxas had wanted to help us, why wouldn't he tell us something so important and obvious? Conrad smelled my sudden apprehension. His gaze flew from me, to Iset.

"Was he lying?" Conrad said.

"Can we trust him?"

"Emerra said he was telling the truth," Iset pointed out.

"I trust her." I started to object: "But—" Iset spoke over me.

"Just because someone is telling the truth, that doesn't mean they're telling you everything." That statement hit me upside the head, knocking out every other thought that was in there, leaving me alone with my disappointment—disappointment in my eyes, disappointment in Abraxas, and disappointment in myself for putting too much faith in either of them. I scowled and looked away. As I did, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a small object lying on top of the coffee table. Black and ivory.

An elegant S-curve. By the time my eyes flicked back, it was gone. I stared at the empty tabletop, trying to understand what I might have seen.

"It's all right, Emerra," Iset assured me.

"Abraxas might not have told us everything, but he gave us enough to go on. And we don't have any time to waste." I dragged my eyes away from the coffee table.

"Yeah. No. I get it. Where do we start?"