“Yes, Abigail Rook?”
“Thank you for asking. You didn’t have to do that for me. You’re really very sweet.”
“That is kind of you to say, Abigail Rook,” said Charon. “I look forward to our next meeting.” He slid the boat snugly up against the mooring. “But I hope that I do not have the pleasure for a very long time.”
“Likewise,” I said as I climbed out onto the dock. “Good-bye.” I almost glanced behind me as I said it, but I caught myself and managed to keep my eyes fixed on the opening up above. If Howard Carson was behind me, he made not the faintest whisper of a sound. I ascended the stairs and stepped up to the bright threshold of the living world.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hell had been the lesser nightmare.
My body no longer lay face-down on the cold earth where I had left it. It had been dragged back into the sunlight and now sat propped up against the roots of the great tree. Owen Finstern was crouching over my corpse. My ivory-handled knife was in his hand and a zealous fury was in his eyes. “Carefully, now!” he demanded. “Secure the clamp plate over the collimating lens assembly.”
Jackaby stood beside the inventor’s machine. He had erected the device near the shadow’s edge and he was making adjustments at Finstern’s command.
“Do it right,” Finstern barked. He pressed the silver blade against my lifeless neck. “Or the girl’s soul won’t have anything to come back to.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Mr. Finstern,” Jackaby said. “Please. Calm down.”
“I know precisely what I’m doing. Turn it on.”
“Don’t you dare!” Jenny cried. She hovered between Finstern and Jackaby. “She helped save your life! Without our help those monsters would already have taken you captive. They’re hunting you!”
“Let them!” Finstern roared. “I want them to come! I’ve been waiting for them to come since I was an infant! I said turn it on!”
Jackaby moved slowly around the machine. “To what end, Mr. Finstern? What do you hope to accomplish here?”
“My birthright.” He pressed the blade against my lifeless neck. The skin bent under the edge. He was one flick of the wrist away from ending me for good. “Do it.”
With a whir and a click, Jackaby turned on the machine. The mechanism hummed. “Power?” he said. “Is that all this is about?”
“It’s all anything is about. It’s the only reason you’re alive, or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Jackaby scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t got a clue, have you? She told me all about what you can do.” He tapped my body’s lifeless cheek with the knife. From behind the threshold I cringed. I wanted to hit him, but now would be the worst time to burst back into my body, leaping under the knife. “She told me how it works, your sight,” Finstern continued. “They’re building something powerful, you said. You figured out that much. Well, I know what it’s like, trying to work with powers you can’t see or touch or measure. You’re the missing element, detective. They need your eyes. The rest of us are working blind, but you can see it all as plain as day, can’t you? Energy. Potential. Power. You can observe it and quantify it, can’t you?”
Jackaby swallowed.
“You’re no good to them dead. They would have to hunt down the next Seer if you died. I figure that’s why they’ve kept tabs on you instead. That’s the only reason you’re alive. You’re a worthless storage container for a priceless power.” His eyes narrowed. “And I want it.”
“You really don’t,” said Jackaby. “It is as much a burden as it is a gift. Trust me.”
“Then let me lift your burden. It’s what my machine does. Nobody has to die today, Detective. I’m not a monster, in spite of what you think of me. You cross over. I activate the machine. Your soul waits safely on the other side while I absorb the power of the sight instead of letting it flitter away to just anybody. With your eyes I can propel my work forward and take my place in the company of those who actually appreciate my efforts. Everybody wins.”
Jackaby said nothing.
“There’s another way, of course,” Finstern added. “She dies. Then you die. Then I take it anyway. It’s your choice.”
Jackaby looked across the threshold and seemed to notice me, my spirit, for the first time. His gaze locked on mine, and he looked as helpless as I was. He was seriously considering going along with it; I could see it in his eyes. After several seconds, he turned soberly back toward Finstern and to my limp corpse.
My eyes blinked open.
They were my eyes, although not the ones I was using at the moment. I stared from behind the ethereal barrier as my corpse turned angrily to face the mad inventor. Jenny, I realized, was nowhere to be seen. Owen Finstern did not seem to have noticed.
“Go on, then,” Finstern said. “Cross the line!” He gestured toward the gap in the yew tree where I stood, using the silver blade to point. He looked as though he were about to say something else when the corpse at his feet suddenly lurched to life.
Jenny was clumsy and stiff as she possessed my limbs, but the element of surprise appeared to be more than enough for the moment. She launched herself bodily at Finstern’s legs, and he was thrown to the ground. The knife flew out of his hands as he slammed into the dirt.
“You shouldn’t threaten my friends.” They might have been my vocal chords, but it was Jenny’s accent that issued from my lips. She lashed out, punching him hard in the neck and landing a knee in his ribs.
He coughed and deflected her next blow with a swat of his hand. He shoved her off of him, but Jenny clung to the inventor’s shabby coat, and the two of them tumbled gracelessly together across the earth until they rolled to a stop with Finstern on top. He raised a hand to strike her, but Jenny raised the silver knife at the same moment, pointing it squarely at his heart.
Finstern dropped his hand and the two of them slowly stood. I felt a burst of pride at essentially watching myself win the fight. Jenny still looked a little unsteady in my skin, but she managed to keep the blade at his chest the whole time. “It’s over,” she said.
The words had scarcely left her lips when a tiny object flew over the towering roots beside us and coasted in a wide arc directly toward her. It looked like an acorn.
“Look out!” Jackaby yelled, but it was too late. The little nut missed Finstern’s shoulder by an inch and landed on Jenny’s chest—on my chest—with a flash of green light. She went instantly rigid.