Despite the slaughter he'd just witnessed Baron stepped forward, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and the anger on his face was terrible to behold.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Baron demanded in a voice tight with fury.
The features of the cloaked man were shrouded in darkness, so his expression was impossible to read. It wasn't clear if he even had a face. But he seemed to be looking at me when he raised a black gloved hand and pointed one of his dripping knives.
I stepped forward to stand next to Baron and Devona came with me. Henry remained where he was, demonstrating more good sense than the rest of us, I thought.
"His name is Silent Jack," I said. "He's one of Lord Edrigu's servants. As for what he wants… well, I guess it's me."
Ever since Jack had marked my hand with Edrigu's sigil, I'd been waiting for the Lord of the Dead to summon me and It looked like the time had finally come.
"But why break into the Foundry?" Devona asked. "Why not just stay outside and wait for us to leave?"
"Maybe for some reason Jack couldn't wait," I said. "Or maybe it's just more fun for him this way."
Jack's some manner of spirit, but one who can be solid enough when he chooses, as Baron's unfortunate security monsters had discovered. But considering who he was reputed to have been during his mortal life on Earth, the bloodshed – while sickening – was hardly surprising. And Baron's monsters hadn't been about to let Jack enter the Foundry without challenge. So all appearances to the contrary, there might have been nothing especially sinister motivating Jack's appearance that night. But there was something in his stance, a cold anger radiating from him like an almost physical force that told me something was wrong here. And a moment later I had an idea what it was when a larger gray fleshed figure stomped around the corner and headed down the corridor toward us.
The creature stood eight feet tall and its naked body was roughly humanoid in shape, though its face was smooth and featureless, and it possessed no sexual organs. It was a Sentinel, one of the golems that served as Nekropolis's version of a police force, or as close to it as the city came. Sentinels were more like enforcers than cops, making sure that citizens obeyed the law – or else.
The Sentinel walked through the carnage Jack had wrought, not bothering to step over body parts, instead crushing them into bloody paste as it went. The golem stopped next to Silent Jack who, true to his name, spoke not a word as he continued pointing his black knife at me. The Sentinel stepped forward, grabbed hold of me with inhumanly powerful hands, and tucked me under its arm. It then turned and began carrying me back the way it had come.
After spending the better part of the night as a severed head, I was plenty sick of being hauled around like an infant. I squirmed, trying to break free from the Sentinel's grip, though I knew it was useless. I didn't know any creature that was stronger than a Sentinel. So I stopped struggling and allowed myself to go limp. As we passed, Silent Jack tucked his knives away somewhere in the dark folds of his midnight-black cloak, and turned to follow us.
Whatever was going on it looked like my long night was about to get even longer.
SEVEN
After capturing me, the Sentinel carried me outside to where Silent Jack's black rig waited. The Sentinel shoved me inside and Jack – who materialized in the driver's seat – cracked the reins and his two horses, Malice and Misery, reared up and let out ear-splitting cries that sounded uncomfortably close to human screams. As if the sound warped the fabric of reality, the world around us blurred, distorted and reformed, and instead of being parked outside the Foundry, we were now outside the black needle-like structure that was the Nightspire – center of the city and home to Father Dis. Another Sentinel stood waiting for us, or perhaps it was the same one, pulled along by the magic of Jack's supernatural rig. Since all Sentinels look alike it was impossible to tell and it really didn't matter for this one yanked me out of the rig with as much violent efficiency as another would've and marched me inside the obsidian tower. I glanced back over my shoulder just in time to see Jack tip his top hat to me before he and his rig faded away.
"Thanks for the ride," I muttered.
The Sentinel escorted me through the Nightspire's halls until we reached an area I'd heard about but had never visited. Most of the Nightspire is made out of black stone so highly polished it gleamed in the light cast by torches set into the walls. But here the stone, while still just as highly polished and reflective, was a deep crimson. This was the Sanctum, headquarters of the Cabal, Father Dis's personal servants. We passed a number of red robed men and women, all seemingly human, all completely hairless, including a lack of eyebrows and lashes. Whether they shaved and plucked their hair or it just didn't grow, I had no idea. None of the Cabal acknowledged us as we walked by. Either they were engrossed in conversation with one another or they stared straight ahead, lost in thought as they went about errands for their dark master.
Eventually the Sentinel brought me to an ivory door formed entirely of skulls stacked on top of one another. The skulls' eye sockets glowed briefly with crimson light as if they were examining us. The light faded and the skulls slid sideways into the walls – one row to the left, the next to the right and so on – until the doorway was open. The Sentinel forcibly removed my suit jacket, divesting me not only of my outer garment but also the various weapons and tricks I keep in its pockets. The Sentinel then removed my shoulder holster holding my 9mm. I'm not sure a gun would've been much use against any of Dis's servants, but it seemed the Sentinel didn't intend to take any chances. The golem didn't bother to check my pants pockets, though. I carry a few small items there, nothing very powerful, but at least I had a few weapons remaining to me. At that point I was happy to take whatever I could get.
The Sentinel then placed one of its large hands between my shoulder blades and shoved. I stumbled inside, only barely managing to keep from falling forward onto my face, and then the skulls slid back into place, closing me inside. The chamber was small – the bathroom in my apartment was smaller, but not by much – and it was empty. No furniture, nothing on the crimson walls or ceiling. There was no obvious source of light and yet the room was fully illuminated.
"Welcome to the Inquisitory."
The voice came from behind me, and though I was startled, I forced myself to turn around slowly. No need to let whoever it was know they'd gotten to me.
I found myself staring into the face of a Cabal member, a man who appeared to be in his seventies, with a long narrow face and patrician features. His eyes were an icy blue and his upper lip seemed curled in a permanent sneer.
"Let me guess," I said. "You're Brother Quillion, the First Adjudicator."
The skin over the man's right eye moved, as if he'd have raised an eyebrow if he'd had one.
"I see my reputation precedes me."
The cold sarcasm in his tone reminded me of Mr. Hedricks, my high school principal. The sadistic son of a bitch loved nothing better than to deal out discipline to troublemakers and the harsher that discipline was, the better he liked it.
"I've heard of you," I admitted. "I'm impressed. Whatever you people think I've done, it must be pretty damned bad for me to merit your personal attention."
Quillion's lips stretched into a bloodless smile. "And what makes you think you're accused of a crime, Matthew?"
I didn't like the overly familiar way he used my first name, but I decided to let it slide. After all I was technically the man's prisoner. Still, that didn't mean I was going to be all sunshine and daisies to him.