Chapter 31

Jacob Hollow

A young man strolled alone through the town of Pikeston in the late morning sun. He smiled a bit, but his smile was grim. The air of Pikeston hummed with tension. Jacob understood why. Many were the things he could not remember; his past was like a puzzle with little more than the edge pieces put together. But he could not forget Black. Jacob Hollow could taste Black’s stench in these streets.

‘Abraham Black: lips cracked, eyes smokestacks, skin blistered candlewax… ’ How did the rest go? Part of it was something like, ‘turn back, turn back, it’s Abraham Black.’ Didn’t sound scary now, in broad daylight. But at night, alone, in the dark…

He snapped the fingers of his right hand as he walked. Sometimes he did so as though flicking something down from his hand, and then catching it again with an upward snap. Sometimes, when the sunlight was just right, it seemed as though a burning drop of light plummeted from his fingers, struck the cement, and rebounded.

“Oh, he’s here,” he said out loud.

I guess that message was legit. Probably still a trap, though.

“Angel is here too, somewhere.”

What happens if Black gets the angel?

“Probably he’ll get back in the Museum.”

Shit. Oh shit. This is all Akkama’s fault.

“That’s why he wants it, right? To find and kill you?”

Shit. Yes. Focus, man. What if the angel dies? Maybe we should kill it.

“Then what about the kid?”

Fuck the kid. Kill him too.

“Nah, don’t think so. It oughta be enough if we can trap Black here for the Cascade.”

Oh yeah, sure, sounds easy. Real fuckin piece of cake.

Nearby, as Jacob walked, a meadowlark flitted through the trees. Jacob came down Main Street to the central part of town. Not that there was much of it, in Pikeston. Something was going on here. Law enforcement vehicles clustered around a cordoned-off area which included the Wagon Wheel bar and most of the nearby sidewalk.

Jacob took a breath and snapped his fingers. Something shifted in the air around him; filaments of light stretched, bent, folded in upon themselves. He crossed the street and walked past the cordoned-off area. No need to take a look. He knew what he would see. He had seen it before.

No one looked at him until he entered the coffee shop at the end of the block. He took a look around. Rustic. Wood paneling. It was empty except for the person behind the counter, who glanced up anxiously as he entered. Nervous. Hmm. Was school in session? He had no idea.

He emerged from the coffee shop five minutes later with a cup of black coffee. “Where’s the school?”

We can’t fucking see that, you imbecile.

“Is he there?”

Again, how the fuck do I know that?

That’s enough from you; let me talk to him.

Hell no; get your own damn book. Hey!

Apologies, Jacob Hollow. My splenetic associate seems to—wait a moment.

Did you just call me an associate ? Unbelievable. What’s next, I’m your fucking ‘coworker?’ Ow! Stop!

“Hmm,” said Jacob. He sipped the coffee, gazing up into the bright blue sky. His eyes were drawn to the tallest structures in town by far: three cement grain silos, in a row, each easily ten stories tall. They were grey, but it looked like a half-hearted attempt had been made to paint one of them white. Maybe the white was to cover graffiti.

“There he is,” said Jacob as he began walking again.

Wait where are you going? You found the hero?

“We have some time.”

Yeah I guess enough time to fuck around buying hot drinks instead of securing the fucking angel. Sure, who cares about the—

“Shut up.” He sipped the coffee again as he crunched his way down the gravel of a side alley toward the grain silos. “Put the rational one back on.”

Hey fuck you too you heaping—

Do you think Black knows which child it is, Jacob?

“I don’t think it matters. If he felt like it, he could just kill every kid in this town.”

Then why does he not, if it would prevent the angel from fulfilling its function?

“Because,” Jacob Hollow said with a grim smile, “Abraham Black is a sportsman. Ha! He’ll wait for ‘the right moment.’ He’s designed to be dramatic.”

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And he’s not the only one you absolu—agh!

Sorry. Go on.

“Also it’s daytime. People are less afraid in the day.”

They are?

“Humans are. So I think he’ll wait for the Cascade. But we’ll just see what he has to say about it himself, huh?”

What? Are you going to talk to him?

Listen you insipid sack of clichés, we didn’t come this far to let you—

Be careful, Jacob. Please. It’s…he might not be the same Abraham Black as the one you know.

“Yeah.” Jacob finished off the steaming cup of coffee as he neared the chain-link fence surrounding the area which the silos occupied. He held the empty cup in his hand for a moment, then dropped it on the gravel of the empty lot behind the library. He snapped his fingers. The chain link in front of him fell in pieces to the ground. He stepped through.

He approached the ladder on the side of the silo. The ladder had a cylindrical fence around it all the way up. It was locked at the bottom with a rusty padlock. Jacob snapped his fingers; the padlock fell to the ground. He swung the rusted gate open with a harsh squeal of metal. He shaded his eyes and gazed upwards before climbing. A number of hawks circled overhead.

Holy shit. Did you see that?

Of course not.

Right, yeah, sorry, but he just stepped out of the shadows! I didn’t know he could do that! When did he learn how to do that? Fuck!

You haven’t been paying attention, have you? Mr. Hollow, would you like me to silence my mentally lethargic ‘colleague?’

No one asked—

“No, it’s fine. It’s kind of funny. I only told him to shut up earlier to make him mad.”

Ah, I see. Indeed, it requires little provocation to achieve that end.

Oh hey, yeah, let’s all laugh at the asshole who actually fucking cares about making sure this fucking monster—

“But he might be able to hear you,” said Jacob Hollow as he began to ascend the ladder. “So maybe tone it down when I get up there. Or just, throw a tantrum, but through whispering.” The ensuing tirade entertained Jacob on the way up.

The metal rungs of the ladder were icy cold against his hands. He wished he had some gloves. When he was halfway up, he took a break and leaned back against the protective caging around the ladder to breathe some warmth into his fingers. He needed those for snapping. Even though he was pretty sure Black wouldn’t attack. Not him; not here. Not when it was getting close to noon, on a cloudless day. Surely not. No way.

Jacob Hollow looked uneasily toward the top of the ladder. He snapped his fingers a few times.

It’ll be okay. You can do it. I believe in you.

Jacob couldn’t tell if these were his own thoughts or not. He often had that problem. He was designed to be a little…unstable. He knew that now. He knew also that all things could transcend their design. Abraham Black was proof of that, if nothing else.

He continued his ascent. When he reached the top, he slowly peeked over the edge. Three broad cement circles—the tops of the silos, each a good thirty feet across. In the center of the far platform stood a tall figure in a dusty black coat and broad dark hat. A dozen hawks circled in the skies around them. From up here Jacob could easily see the whole town of Pikeston and beyond.

Jacob Hollow cautiously got to his feet on top of the silo and walked to the center of his own circle. There. Nice and symmetrical. Black should appreciate the dramatic nature of this encounter.

“Sho,” said Black. His voice was clearly audible at conversational volume, despite the distance between them. “Thish ish a shurprishe. Didn’t I kill you?”

Jacob didn’t respond.

A cloud of smoke appeared in front of Black; his arm suddenly outstretched, gun in hand. But Jacob had already snapped. The bullet spun in the air before falling with a soft clink to the cement at his feet. Thunder echoed through a cloudless sky.

Black’s unnatural teeth gleamed beneath the brim of his hat. Jacob chanced a look around. Really a great view up here. He could see the whole sky. It was bright blue, and clouds gathered only at the horizons, giving it a concave impression. There, to the north, ran a jagged line that shone with light in Jacob’s eyes.

Black laughed softly, a sound like a man drowning in blood. “Brought your friendsh, I shee,” he said. Black gestured with a smooth swing of his arm to the circling hawks. “By hish birdsh you shall know him. No angel, though. Dishappointing.”

Jacob looked down and nudged the dented bullet with his shoe. It sparkled silver on the cold cement.

“The Cashcade ish closhe,” said Black. “How ‘bout a deal? I will shpare your life, and even the livesh of theshe shorry shouls…” He indicated Pikeston. “In exshchange for the angel. Whaddaya shay?”

Don’t you even fucking think abo—

Quiet!

He’s hesitating!

“Shorry,” said Jacob Hollow, imitating Black’s speech. “Can’t do that.”

Abraham Black shrugged. “Worth a shot.” His arms shot out from his sides and flickered through the air around him, so quickly that he looked like a stuttering stop-frame image. The thunder of the gunshots was a single enormous sound. Each of the hawks that had been circling the silos jerked in the air and began to fall. Ten. Ten hawks.

“I will kill the boy,” said Black. “I will kill every bird I shee. When I get back inshide, I will kill every one of thoshe demonsh. I will end thish whole shorry charade. I won’t let there be another chanche. That ish what ish about to happen. Surely you undershtand.”

Jacob Hollow nodded. He did understand. The voices in his head were silent.

Even in the broad daylight, darkness began to obscure Black. Even without a shadow to step into, he disappeared from sight.

Jacob Hollow’s legs gave out, and he sat down on the silo. He began to laugh, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He laughed and laughed, until tears dripped from his chin onto the cold cement.

Then, looking out over the trees and the rooftops, he said, “What did you do? What the hell did you do to him?”

The voices were silent.

“He’s not supposed to be like that. The one I knew never…why’s he looking for an angel if there’s already one inside of him?” That burning darkness.

Ask Jeronimy.

No way, you shut the hell up, I’m not taking responsibility for that. For once, this shit wasn’t my fault. You know who’s to blame here.

It’s your angel.

“He had a ring,” said Jacob softly. “A black ring. It looked like…”

We know.

“I can’t win. Why did that guy tell me to come here if I can’t stop Black?”

Just find the kid, Jacob. Start there. Maybe he can help.