Nightworld

2 • GATHERINGS

Manhattan

Glaeken handed the drawings of the necklaces to Jack and watched the younger man study them. These were xeroxes. He had the original drawings safely tucked away in a vault.

"These are good," Jack said, nodding appreciatively. "Great detail. Just what I need. Where'd you get them?"

"I've kept them in a series of safe places over the years," Glaeken said. "On the outside chance that I'd need them some day. That day is here."

"Yeah," Jack said glumly. He rubbed his gauze-wrapped forearm. "I guess it is."

He rose from the chair and began pacing the living room. Glaeken sensed the tension coiled within Jack, the frustration boiling just under the skin. Jack was used to solving problems, usually other people's problems. Now he himself was faced with a problem for which he had no solution.

"About your fee," Glaeken said, allowing a smile to show. "What made you change your mind?"

Jack stopped his pacing and faced Glaeken, his eyes flashing.

"Not funny, Mr. V."

Glaeken sighed. "You're right. The events of last night are nothing to take lightly. And call me Glaeken."

"Glaeken…that's a new one."

"No, it's a very old one. Not at all an uncommon name in the time of my youth."

His youth…images seeped up from the deep past…sunlit forests…laughing and running with other boys. It seemed almost inconceivable that there had ever been a boy called Glaeken, and that he had been that boy. So many names since then. But now he was an old man with no further need of pretense, so he might as well revert to his given name.

"Whatever," Jack said, folding the drawings of the necklace into a neat square as he began roaming the living room again. "All hell seems to have broken loose out there. I saw those things come out of that hole last night. And now there's rumors of others holes opening up all over the place."

"They're not rumors. I believe I told you—"

"I know," Jack said, slowing and stopping as he passed the window. "I know you told me." He pointed out toward the Park. "Thousands of those holes? Thousands of them?"

"I'm afraid so."

"What's going to keep one from opening up right under your building here and swallowing it up?"

"I doubt very much that will happen. That would be too quick—mercifully quick. The power behind these holes wants me to witness the death-throes of civilization before he comes for me. Besides, those holes cannot open just anywhere. They must locate at specific nexus points in order to connect with the…other place."

" 'The other place?' Sounds like seance talk."

"I don't know how else to explain it."

"But with swarms of those things pouring out from this 'other place' through thousands of holes, the whole planet will be overrun. I'm sure we can find ways to exterminate the bugs, but—"

"The belly flies and chew wasps are just the first wave. Worse things are on the way."

Jack was shaking his head slowly back and forth as he stared out the window.

"What could be worse than those little horrors last night?"

"Bigger horrors. But only during the hours of darkness. They must return to the holes before sunrise."

"Swell. I mean, that's a big comfort, isn't it, what with sunrise coming later and later each morning." Finally, he looked away from the window. "You said something before about 'the power behind these holes.' What did you mean? That somebody's in control here—causing the holes?"

"Yes. His name is Rasalom."

"Where do we find this guy? How can I get to him?"

"He won't be found unless he wishes to be. And he's not subject to your brand of solutions. You can't 'fix' him or undo his work by conventional means."

Jack held up the folded drawings of the necklaces.

"What about these? You're telling me these necklaces will help close up the holes?"

"They'll give us a chance. Without them we might as well quit right now."

"All right," Jack said, shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans. "Sounds crazy to me, but crazy seems to be in charge these days."

"Very true. But don't go yet. There are some people I want you to meet."

"The guy who didn't show up yesterday?"

"No. He had to accompany a sick friend to a hospital. I don't think he'll be back today."

Bill had called last night to explain his absence and to relate what had befallen his friend Nick. Glaeken had told him to do whatever he thought best for his friend.

But another call had come this morning—from Sylvia Nash. She told him what had transpired at her house last night. Glaeken had been shaken by the news. He had expected Rasalom's forces to home in on the Dat-tay-vao eventually, but not so soon. Certainly not on the first night. The news increased the sense of urgency simmering within him.

Mrs. Nash had wanted him to come out to Monroe and see the damage, but Glaeken had refused. He wanted her—no, not her, the boy—here where he could watch over him and protect him and the Dat-tay-vao residing within him. With obvious reluctance, she had agreed to meet him here today.

"I must tend to my wife for a few moments," he told Jack. "If the doorman announces a Mrs. Nash or a Mrs. Treece, tell him to send them up."

Jack tore his gaze away from the window. He seemed mesmerized by the hole in the Park.

"What? Oh, sure. You go do what you have to do. I'll take care of things."

Glaeken headed for Magda's room. He knew Repairman Jack was very good at taking care of things.