“I never said Kathleen was in Heaven,” Custo argued.
“We can argue the subtleties of deceit on our way. I’m sure you know more on that score than most of your angelic host.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Custo said, loud enough to get shhhhed by the stagehand near the curtain. “She needs me. I won’t desert her.”
“I think you will.” Shadowman laid a hand on Custo’s shoulder. At the point of contact, burning cold spread through his body as filaments of Shadow threaded into his system, mingling with his blood. His nerves spasmed, and his marrow curdled when touched by the dark, shady tendrils.
“Come,” Death said.
Custo fought the compulsion, his limbs, heart, and brain rebelling with every cell of strength. But still he moved forward.
“You should know,” Death added with a mean slide of his eyes, “that I would not have any power over you if your soul wasn’t dark and shadowed already. In the strange, ordered chaos of the universe, this is your choice.”
Dark, shadowed, even ruined, yes. But not my choice. Custo tried to deny Shadowman’s hold, but still moved a single step, then another. Custo’s own hand reached out to open the side stage exit, and though his eyes strained for one more glimpse of Annabella, his legs carried him away from her.
Custo could breathe, but he couldn’t speak. What do you want with me? he asked with his mind. His skin tightened with the thickening web of Shadow; he could almost feel himself grow dim as it leached vitality from his core. Somehow he didn’t think Death was going to deliver him to Heaven a second time, not that he ever belonged there.
The music of the ballet suddenly muted with the close of the heavy door. The melody of the story was gone. Only the whine of the strings and the burr of the bass lingered.
“We made a bargain once,” Shadowman said. They strode the back halls of the center, their footfalls hitting the floor in perfect time. “I intend to use you in another.”
Custo made to respond, but couldn’t even grunt. Shadow choked him. By now Jens had to know that he was gone. He’d adjust the coverage for Annabella, or maybe…maybe stop the performance because of the wraith attack.
Custo’s hands cramped, so he knew he’d been reflexively trying to grip them. Even the clamoring beat of his heart was yoked in Shadow. Where are you taking me?
“If my Kathleen is not in Heaven, then she must be…elsewhere.” Death’s voice lost its loose sarcasm and took on bitterness. “She doesn’t belong there. I broke the laws of Faerie, not her. I used my power to cross. What justice is served by sending her there?”
Custo had no choice but to remain silent. He didn’t know anything about justice anyway.
“There is no justice,” Shadowman concluded. “So I intend to make another bargain, this time with Hell. A simple trade, like ours at Heaven’s Gate. You, for my Kathleen.”
The Shadow kept Custo from shaking involuntarily. They reached the back doors that led to the street. From inside, Custo could hear a wraith screech, gunfire, screams, among sirens.
Shadowman slapped his hand against the door and stepped out into the melee. Leashed, Custo followed at his heels, the fetid stench of wraiths blowing up his nostrils, into a scene of chaos illuminated by the overcast hover of clouds reflecting city light back on itself. The street was unofficially cordoned off by abandoned cars. Bodies, human and wraith, littered the area. A cluster of wraiths had made human shields of two Segue operatives, while several other wraiths crouched like spiders on the building walls, ready to strike.
Adam, his back to a building on the other side of the street, his face crusted with blood, whipped to aim his rifle at Shadowman and Custo as they exited. The wraiths let out a quailing chorus, cringing from Death.
In the past, Shadowman had cut down the wraiths with great sweeps of his scythe. His duty for all time was to render the dead out of the mortal world, and none were more dead than the immortal wraiths. The smell alone was proof of that. Custo had witnessed Death’s coming before, called by his daughter’s banshee scream, at the West Virginia location of Segue. Shadowman had struck with a father’s vengeance then, but he didn’t seem to give a damn now.
Death descended the concrete steps, and Custo was compelled to follow.
Adam lowered his gun slightly. “Custo?”
Custo couldn’t answer. Adam would know what to do for Annabella. Adam always knew what to do.
“Custo!” Adam repeated, louder. When he didn’t get an answer a second time, he transferred his attention to Shadowman. Custo caught the dawn of realization on Adam’s face.
“Shadowman, stop!” Adam glanced sharply to his side at the wraiths cringing from Death.
Shadowman halted and shot Adam a pained look. “Every moment I linger here is a moment of pain Kathleen endures in Hell.”
“I need Custo to help me fight,” Adam said.