Chapter 16
Hodgson Hall was located on Shoemaker Street, between Vandercliffe and Pearl Streets. It was a large, neoclassical-style building with a redbrick exterior trimmed with granite. A large banner that read GOLGOTHAM IS OURS hung from the rooftop, obscuring a good portion of the Ionic columns and arches that decorated the facade.
I watched from my vantage point across the street as a steady stream of Golgothamites headed up its wide stone steps. The entrance was manned by individuals wearing large buttons on their lapels bearing the Kymeran Unification Party logo: a six-fingered left hand inside a pentacle.
I stepped out of the doorway and cast a furtive look at myself in a nearby shopwindow. I was wearing a leather jacket I'd picked up in a vintage clothing shop, instead of my usual peacoat, and the temporary hair dye had turned my hair from brunette into an irradiated chartreuse. Anywhere else in the city I would have stood out like King Kong's sore thumb, but in Golgotham I might as well have been a mousy blonde. I fished out a pair of tinted aviator glasses, so no one would notice that my eyes lacked the characteristic cat-slit pupil, and my disguise was complete.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket and lowered my head as I joined the others filing through the dh of I woor, hoping my camouflage was good enough to pass casual muster. I heaved a tiny sigh of relief as the KUP members standing guard at the door didn't give me a second glance.
Once inside, I found myself in a huge lobby area, with open square staircases on either side. I went up the flight of stairs to my right, which led to the main floor. Here I found yet another lobby area, this one with a concession stand that ran the length of the back wall and huge doors that opened onto the concert hall.
The main floor sloped toward a raised proscenium stage that stood six feet off the ground and allowed even those standing at the back of the room a decent view. There was no individual seating, so the audience was forced to stand and face the stage. I looked up toward the paneled ceiling high overhead and saw a large balcony four rows deep wrapped around the second floor, with a third, smaller balcony box occupying the wall directly opposite the stage. Although the doors had opened only a few minutes earlier, the main floor was crowded, and both upper tiers were already filling up.
Banners with slogans such as SAY NO TO NUMPS and TAKE BACK GOLGOTHAM hung from the rafters, and traditional Kymeran folk music played from unseen speakers.
I looked around to try and get a feel for the crowd. While the majority of attendees were Kymerans, there were a fair number of leprechauns, satyrs, and ipotanes, even a few centaurs, milling about on the main floor. By my estimation, there were close to three thousand Golgothamites attending the rally, and, as far as I knew, I was the only human.
What really worried me, however, was the smell of the crowd. During my time in Golgotham, I had come to understand that the personal scents of Kymerans provided biochemical signifiers to their basic personalities. To put it bluntly, nice people smelled nice, and bad people didn't. Normally, the odor generated from a large gathering of Kymerans was a heady mix of fragrances, as exotic as the spices wafting from an Indian restaurant. But the predominant aroma inside Hodgson Hall was astringent, a combination of birch tar and quinine, which suggested I was surrounded by a lot of bitter witches and warlocks.
I was so busy studying the crowd that I failed to look where I was going, and accidentally jostled a middle-aged Kymeran with a puce mullet, causing him to slosh the barley wine he'd bought at the concession stand. He growled something in Kymeran that I couldn't understand, but from the tone of voice I assumed it was "Watch where you're going." I nodded and grunted something I hoped sounded conciliatory, then quickly got out of the way.
The music faded, the houselights dimmed, and the colored spots high in the rigging swiveled to focus on the stage as the heavy curtains parted, revealing a huge backdrop bearing the symbol of the Kymeran Unification Party. A ragged cheer rose from the audience, accompanied by the stomping of feet and hooves and the clapping of hands.
A young Kymeran dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and a dark gray jacket stepped out onto the stage. It took me a second to recognize him as Skal, the unruly who had thrown the fireball at the police, as he had traded his bicycle-spoke mohawk for a crew cut. No doubt his mother, Skua, had suggested the radical change in appearance in case anyone else was summoned before the GoBOO to give witness to what happened the night of the riot.
Skal walked out to the middle of the stage and held up his left hand. At first I thought he was merely acknowledging the applause, or making a request for silence, but then I realized that the audience members had lifted their left hands in return.
"As deputy chairman of the Kymeran Unification Party, I am honored to welcome you to this, our first public outreach program, and to introduce you to our party chairman and founder, Esau!"
The applause and stomping resumed even louder than before, as a dense, swirling bank of fog abruptly rolled out from the wings and onto the stage, accompanied by a distant rumble. Flashes of multicolored lights rippled through the thick mist as a sourceless wind began to swirl it around like a potter spinning a handful of clay.
The rumbling grew louder and louder, as if an army of kettledrums was on the march, and then a figure coalesced within the heart of the whirlwind. Suddenly there was an eye-searing flash of lightning, accompanied by a deafening peal of thunder, and the dark veil dispersed, revealing Esau at its heart, his left hand raised high above his head.
And the crowd went fucking nuts.
I heard a loud, high-pitched shriek, like that of a bird of prey, and looked up to see a monstrous vulturelike creature, easily twice the size of an Andean condor, with the long, toothy bill and reptilian head of a pterodactyl balanced on the uppermost balcony. The winged horror dropped from its perch and spread its wings, swooping down to the stage. The monster-bird then fluttered its fifteen-foot-wide wings and, in the blink of an eye, transformed itself into Esau's pet raven, Edgar. The familiar landed on his master's shoulder and cawed loudly. As much as I despised the man, I had to admit he knew how to play an audience.
Esau smiled and stroked the bird's jet-black feathers as he soaked up the adoration from the crowd. Once he'd had his fill, he lowered his left hand to his side and the din died down enough for him to speak. Although he didn't have a microphone, his voice still managed to fill the auditorium.
"Two hundred and forty years ago, my great-grandfather, Lord Beke, offered his services as a wizard to the founders of the United States in order to create a safe harbor for not only those of his blood but all who swore fealty to the Throne of Arum. And for generations we have been left to our own devices, to live as we see fit. But now all that is changing, and it is up to us, fellow Golgothamites, to decide whether our way of life survives or is lost under the never-ending flood of humanity.
"From the very beginning Golgotham's economy has been based upon providing certain services, both physical and metaphysical, to the surrounding human population. The operative word in that sentence, my friends, is 'surrounding.' Traditionally, numps have been welcome in our world, provided they stick to those areas set aside for them, such as Witch Alley, the Rookery, the Fly Market, and, of course, Duivel Street.
"But recently numps have been infiltrating deeper and deeper into Golgotham, venturing into bars and restaurants they never would have dared set foot in a few years ago, emboldened by the GoBOO's ceaseless and unwise flogging of tourism. Some have even gone so far as to make Golgotham their home! Now, I'm not talking about oracles, mediums, and dowsers-these outcasts from human society have always hidden under Golgotham's skirts. No, I mean garden-variety, cud-chewing, credit-card-carrying numps. This recent development is not just a slippery slope, but one lined with razor blades-and we're sliding down it as I speak!
"Some may think I am overreacting, but mark my words: As soon as your lease expires, don't be surprised when your landlords raise the rent fifty to one hundred percent more than you are already paying! Why would they do such a thing, su forty yea you ask? Because while you, my brethren, might not be able to afford such an increase, the numps eager to move in to experience our 'quaint' atmosphere certainly can! And they most certainly will! After all, they do it to their own kind time and time again-what makes you think they'll have any problems doing it to us? Numps are greedy, selfish beasts, all eye and belly. Whatever they see, they want. And right now, my brothers and sisters, they have their sights set on Golgotham!"
This brought a loud chorus of hisses from the audience, and it wasn't until I saw the spectators nodding their heads in agreement that I realized they weren't booing Esau, but voicing their contempt for humans.
I pulled my shoulders in even further and shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets, as the participants on either side of me began rhythmically stomping their feet and pumping their left fists in the air.
"It is time that the citizenry of Golgotham-Kymeran and otherwise-stood together against the rapacious humans and their bought-and-paid-for puppets in the GoBOO! Our home lacks infinite capacity for settlement, and if we do not act now, we will soon find ourselves squeezed out by human interlopers!
"There is not a species or a race that calls Golgotham home that does not know the depths to which Mankind will stoop-am I right? Who among us does not have an ancestor who suffered on the rack, or served as fuel for their autos-da-fe?"
The audience murmured in agreement, and I saw authentic grief and loss flicker across the faces of those around me, as well as hatred. Although the Unholy War-or the Sufferance, as the Kymerans called it-had ended nine hundred years ago, the horrors born of that dark time were far from forgotten. Esau knew he had his listeners under his thrall, and he was eager to push the advantage. His voice grew even deeper and took on a conspiratorial urgency, as if he shared special knowledge that only the chosen were privy to, forcing his audience to lean forward to hear him.
"My friends, Golgotham is under attack from nump culture! The numps are waging a second Unholy War upon us, and most of you don't even realize it. The last time they were bold-they took up swords and siege machines against us. But now they must be stealthy and devious, for fear of angering their god, who forbade continued genocide in his name. So now they must work in far more subtle fashion to rob us of our magic.
"This time it's nothing so crude as snipping off a finger. No, they're much too clever for something like that! Instead, they lure us into dependency upon their damnable technology. What better way to steal our sorcery than to make us as soft and fat and lazy as they are? Why astral-project when you can just pick up the phone or text someone? Why use a scrying device to divine the past when you can Google? Why teleport when you can ride in a car? Why levitate when you can fly in a plane? Why waste the energy to do anything magical when you can use the humans' wondrous technology to achieve the same ends?
"Because we are magical creatures, and technology makes us weak-that's why!"
As I looked around the crowd to try and gauge reactions to the speech, I spotted a teenaged Kymeran with raspberry-colored hair rolling his eyes. Apparently Esau's message about the corrupting influence of technology didn't resonate with the younger members of the audience.
"We have already surrendered our dragons and our kingdom to Mankind. Our magic is all we have left. And it is what they fear and crave the most. Onc thont e our magic becomes too weak to be of any use to them, the numps will rise up and wipe us from the face of the earth. We will become nothing more than stories they tell their children to frighten them into good behavior, or lull them to sleep, like dinosaurs and cowboys. I don't know about you, but I do not want to live in a world where the only place I can find a centaur or a mermaid is in a picture book!"
That brought the spectators sitting in the balconies to their feet, and for several seconds their applause and cheers made it impossible for Esau to speak. So he simply stood and silently luxuriated in their approval as he waited for the clamor to subside.
"Who can we look to in order to stem this tide?" he asked, once they had finally fallen quiet. "The GoBOO?"
"No!" came the reply, shouted by button-wearing KUP members scattered throughout the audience.
"The PTU?"
"No!" These shouts were even louder and more vehement, which suggested a good number of the KUP's recruits were unrulies with lengthy arrest records.
"Don't. Make. Me. Laugh!" Esau spat, his face contorting in disgust. "They are puppets of the nump mayor and his cronies, and happy to sell out their constituents for a handful of gold from City Hall! The reason I founded the Kymeran Unification Party was to defend the rights of the average Golgothamite against the interests of the encroaching humans and to give voice to those who resent their steadily increasing intrusion into our world! The time has finally come to speak out against the numps usurping our eateries, shops, bars, and homes before they annex Golgotham entirely! If the GoBOO refuses to address the question of nump incursions into Golgotham, then they will find themselves facing a crisis of unimaginable proportions-a crisis of their own making!
"Although the majority of numps are content with slowly weakening us with flashy bits of technology, there are still some who seek to wage war against us as their ancestors once did. I speak, of course, of the so-called Sons of Adam. When I saw the footage of our poor brother Quid, beaten to death by those grunting knuckle-draggers, anger and outrage bubbled in my soul. From that loathing and horror was born a resolve to capture and punish these ape-born savages.
"Starting tonight, I will be sending special citizens' patrols, composed of KUP members, out into the streets of Golgotham in order to watch for-and take into custody, if possible-the nump known as Cain and the other members of the SOA. When they are caught, I swear, by the blood of my ancestors, that I will do all that is in my power to see they are brought to justice by Golgotham standards! The crimes they committed were against Golgothamites, and it should be our laws, not those of New York City, that ultimately decide their fate!
"I have only one more question to put to you tonight: Who among you are willing to join me in keeping our streets and people safe from the Sons of Adam? Who among you will add your hand to ours?" Esau asked, lifting his left hand over his head as he looked out into the audience.
To my surprise, every attendee on the main floor raised his or her left hand, except me. I nervously looked around and saw Puce Mullet staring in my direction, a confused scowl on his face. He took a couple of steps toward me, sniffing the air like a hound trying to catch a rabbit's scent. Before leaving the house I had practically bathed in my favorite perfume in order to pass the smell test as a Kymeran; but after nearly an hour spent in a crowded aun a. Bditorium, I was starting to sweat.
I decided that I had seen enough, and started to slowly inch my way out of the crowd, but Puce Mullet continued to advance toward me. As I turned my back on him, he said something to me in Kymeran. I had no idea what he'd said, except that it was a question of some sort, so I shrugged my shoulders as if to say "Beats me," while keeping my hands hidden in my pockets.
Within half a heartbeat, Puce Mullet closed the distance between us. As I tried to pull away, he grabbed my left wrist and growled in English: "I said: 'Why won't you raise your hand?'"
Before I could react, he yanked it free of its hiding place.
"Nump!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, upon seeing my five fingers. "There's a nump in the audience!"
Every face turned in my direction. Whether Kymeran, leprechaun, or centaur, they all had the same angry, outraged gleam in their eyes.
"She's a spy!" a leprechaun wearing a green bowler hat shouted. "Grab her!"
"I got her!" Puce Mullet twisted my left arm behind my back hard enough to make me yelp.
A huldu with a KUP button affixed to the lapel of his jacket pushed his face into mine. "Who sent you? Who are you spying for? The PTU? GoBOO?"
"I'm not a spy!" I shouted over the jumble of raised, angry voices.
"Not a spy, are you?" snarled the huldu, tugging on my hair. "Then why did you dye this green, eh?"
"I-I-!"
"Answer me, nump!" he bellowed, striking me across the face with his tail hard enough that I tasted blood.
Suddenly I was jerked free of Puce Mullet's grip and pulled up into the air, as if a giant hand had closed about the nape of my neck and lifted me aloft like a newborn kitten. I screamed as I shot upward, my arms and legs kicking frantically, struggling to free myself as I bobbed twenty feet in the air.
Although I was no longer being attacked by the crowd below, I was now totally exposed to the angry occupants of the balconies, who lost no time hurling the first thing they could lay their hands on in my direction.
"Nump go home!" shrieked a Kymeran woman with fluorescent orange hair as she hurled a soft drink cup at me.
I raised my arms to shield my face as the drink hit me in the chest, exploding in a spray of crushed ice and sticky syrup. A second later a box of popcorn struck a glancing blow to my head, followed by several more beverages. I was thankful that at least Hodgson Hall's concession stand didn't sell drinks in bottles and cans.
Suddenly I was flying sideways through the air, the far wall of the auditorium rushing up to greet me. I screamed and put my hands over my eyes, only to be pulled back at the last possible second. I peered through my fingers and saw Esau on the stage below, moving his hands like a puppeteer controlling a marionette. As I was twirled about in midair like a child's pinata, my shrieks of terror were drowned out by the jeers from the audience.
As I shot past the upper balcony, the laughter abruptly died away and I saw a look of surprise cross the faces of the rally-goers. My trajectory came to a sudden halt, leaving me suspended near the rafters. Peering down between my feet, I saw the crowd below part itself as a familiar as e rallyfigure strode down the open path to the stage. Even though I could see only the top of his head, I would have known that purple hair anywhere.
"Let the woman go, Esau!" Hexe shouted.
"If you insist, nephew," the necromancer replied with a sardonic laugh.
Suddenly the invisible hand holding me aloft was gone, and I plummeted like a stone dropped down a well. Halfway to the floor, I felt a second, far gentler unseen hand reach out to slow my descent. I floated over the heads of my tormentors as Hexe made a beckoning gesture with his right hand, summoning me to his side. When my feet once again made contact with the floor my legs were shaking so badly I had to throw my arms around his neck to keep from collapsing.
"I should have known leaving you at home wouldn't keep you out of trouble," he said wryly.
"You sin against your own people, Serenity," Esau sneered. "Golgotham faces the greatest threat to its existence ever, and what do you do? Cozy up to the enemy!"
"Tate has as much right to be here as anyone else," Hexe replied, triggering a barrage of hoots and jeers from Esau's supporters. "You want to protect Golgotham-am I right? Tate calls Golgotham her home. That makes her a Golgothamite."
"That's impossible," Esau replied sharply. "She's human."
"There is nothing in the charter our ancestor drew up that declares Golgotham a human-free zone," Hexe countered. "Lord Beke declared it a homeland for 'all those gifted with powers and skills beyond those of the common Man.' That would include not only human psychics and the like, but also artists such as Tate."
"I can't believe we share blood!" Esau spat in disgust. "Are you so besotted with this woman, you've forgotten what the numps did to us?"
"No, I haven't forgotten," Hexe replied, doing his best to make himself heard over the derision of the crowd. "But I have forgiven. The people responsible for the Sufferance are long dead, and the humans of today are not the same as the ones back then. What good does harboring resentment and hatred over ancient injustices ever do? The centaurs trampled the humans' crops and stole their livestock; the satyrs raped their women and plundered their vineyards; the sirens lured their ships onto the rocks; our dragons burned their villages to the ground! The humans hated and feared us because of the horrors our ancestors visited upon them, and they struck back by burning us at the stake, cutting off our fingers, and drowning us in ducking ponds. This pointless tit-for-tat-it's like a serpent eating its tail. What can it possibly lead to, except anger and war? Is that what you truly want for Golgotham?"
The audience fell silent, waiting for Esau's reply as the necromancer scowled at his nephew. But before he could answer, the doors to the auditorium flew open with a loud crash, and Paranormal Threat Unit officers came swarming in, right hands raised and ready to sling.
"PTU!" Lieutenant Vivi shouted. "This is a raid! Everybody keep their hands behind their back!"
Pandemonium broke out as those members of the audience with outstanding warrants-which was damn near everyone-tried to make a break for the nearest exit. Hexe and I were instantly forgotten as the crowd ran frantically about like rats hunted by a pack of terriers. I followed Hexe to a door hidden off to one side of the stage that opened onto an adjacent alley. As we stuleyng mbled out of the building, I sucked in the relatively fresh, clean air, relieved to be finally free of the rally.
We headed toward the mouth of the alley, only to halt at the sight of PTU officers indiscriminately throwing people into the phalanx of paddy wagons that filled Shoemaker Street. Not wanting to join the ranks of angry KUP supporters in the back of the wagons, we turned and headed in the opposite direction, only to have our way blocked by escapees from the raid, who were still pouring into the alley. To my dismay, Puce Mullet was among them.
"It's her!" he exclaimed angrily, pointing at me. "The nump spy!"
Hexe motioned with his right hand, and Puce Mullet turned as silent as a statue, his mouth frozen in mid-shout. But it was too late; the others had already seen me.
Suddenly an albino centauride, her upper human body as ghostly pale as her milk white equine lower half, pushed her way through the crowd, forcing the unruly mob to retreat or risk being crushed by the ivory phaeton carriage behind her. Her snowy mane was so long it nearly touched the ground, and her eyes flashed red as rubies in the dim light of the alley. She wore a white enameled breastplate over a silver chain mail long-sleeved tunic, and carried a mace, also enameled white, in her right hand. Hexe quickly boosted me into the rear of the carriage and then jumped in after me.
"I warned you it would end badly," Lady Syra said from the driver's seat.
"Someone from the family had to stand up and denounce what he's trying to do," Hexe replied. "It might not change Esau's mind, but it could make a difference with some of his followers."
"We'll argue about which of us was less right or more wrong later on, when we don't have your uncle's croggies howling for your girlfriend's blood." Lady Syra turned to the centauride. "Get us out of here, Illuminata!"
The female centaur obeyed by swinging her shining white mace in a wide arc, opening enough room for her to gallop through the angry throng, the royal phaeton jouncing along behind her. As we neared the far end of the alley, there came the sound of wings beating through the air, and a shadow fell across Illuminata's snowy flanks.
The centauride gave an equine scream of pain as the familiar Edgar, in demonic form, swooped down and dug his talons below the hem of her chain-mail tunic, where her human torso met with her horse's withers.
Lady Syra shouted something in Kymeran and a bolt of white energy leaped from her right hand, striking the familiar. There was an angry shriek and the smell of singed feathers, and the devil-bird abandoned his attack, flying off with a single flap of his monstrous wings. Illuminata continued to make good her escape, despite the crimson rivulets running down her milk white forelegs.
As we finally exited onto the open street, I turned to look behind us and saw Esau standing on the roof of Hodgson Hall, his arms folded across his chest, his familiar perched on his left shoulder.