Took him only a few pages to realize this was the oddest book he'd ever seen. Not simply the metal covers with their unusual hinges, and not the curlicue handwriting, but the pages themselves. The page paper—if it was paper at all—felt thinner than onionskin, but was completely opaque. He'd figured that if the book was half as old as it was supposed to be he'd find some damage. But no. Not a tear, not a wrinkle, not a single dog ear.
And who or what was Srem? If he was the guy who'd put this thing together, he at least could have had the decency to include an index or table of contents.
Jack flipped through the unnumbered, single-ply-tissue pages—lots of illustrations, many in color—hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lilitongue. He went through twice, stopping on the second run and backtracking toward the rear when he thought he saw movement in one of the illustrations.
Couldn't be. Just a trompe l'oeil of the flipping pages, like the little animations he'd drawn in the corners of his loose-leaf sheets back in grammar school when he was bored and—
Christ!
He froze and gaped at a page with an illustration that moved.
More than simply moving: an animated globe spinning in a void. He recognized it as Earth by the layout of the continents. He also recognized the crisscrossing lines connecting the dots on its surface.
He'd seen that pattern on an oversized globe hidden away in Luther Brady's office.
And he'd seen the same pattern cut into the back flesh of two of the women with dogs.
He ran his fingers over the animation. It felt no different from the rest of the page—not a ripple, not the slightest vibration, not even a tingle.
"E pur si muove," he whispered.
Tom said, "What?"
"Nothing."
"Find anything yet?"
"Oh, yeah. But not what we're looking for."
Jack tore himself away from the animation and began to plow through the Compendium one page at a time. He'd never learned to speed read, but he could scan text at a decent pace. He set three key words as targets: Lilitougue, Gefreda, and infernal.
About a quarter of the way through he came upon an otherwise blank page that announced:
THE
SEVEN
INFERNALS
Jack fanned through drawings of oddly shaped contraptions, each with a disturbingly organic look to its design. None of the first six even vaguely resembled the object floating in his apartment.
He hesitated to turn the last page. If it didn't show the Lilitongue… if Charlie had been wrong…
Jack took a breath, flipped the page, and exhaled in a rush when he saw the sketch of an irregular sphere with a dimple near its lower pole.
"Got it!"
Tom leaned away from the wheel and craned his neck to see. "You found it? What's it say?"
Jack pushed him back. "Watch the road. I'll read it to you."
"'The seventh and final Infernal is the Escapement Infernal. Known as the Lilitongue, fashioned by the wizard Gefreda during the final century of the First Age.'"
"Wizard?" Tom said. "We're talking about wizards? What is this, Dungeons and Dragons? And what the hell's the First Age?"
"Haven't a clue. But maybe we'll find out if you can shut up for two minutes and let me finish."
"Okay, okay. Go ahead."
"'In that time Gefreda became encircled in his castle by his enemies with no hope of escape. And so he created the Lilitongue and was never again seen, by neither friend nor enemy.'
" 'For that man vexed upon all sides, who would wish to elude his enemies and leave them helpless, yet has not the courage or mayhap the means to exercise the ultimate option, that man has but to depress the Lilitongue's dimple and he will acquire the Stain'."
"'After the appearance of the Stain, he who is marked shall have eighty-three hours to organize his affairs. Throughout that time the Stain shall spread, gradually encircling his body. When the two ends are united, completing a circuit of his flesh, he shall be removed from his troubles and transported to a faraway place, forever beyond his enemies' reach. He must bid farewell to those people and all things he holds dear, for such shall forever remain beyond the reach of the Stained.'"
"'Mark you well before depressing the dimple of the Lilitongue: Once acquired, the Stain may not be shed—not by cleansing, not even by flaying the Stained skin. Nor may it be given to another.'"
" 'When its task is complete, the Lilitongue shall return to its place of fashioning.'"
The text stopped above an infinity symbol two inches from the bottom of the page.
Jack flipped and found blank white space. The opposing sheet sported a picture of a double-bladed sword.
Where's the rest of it?
He pushed the book flat, looking for signs that a page had been torn out, but found no trace.
"That's it?" Tom said.
Jack nodded, then lowered the book and stared through the window.
Tom groaned. "Damn!"
Jack couldn't tell if Tom was bemoaning Vicky's fate or cursing the fact that she'd usurped his means of escape.
He reread the piece, searching for a loophole, a way out for Vicky, but…
Once acquired, the Stain may not be shed—not by cleansing, not even by flaying the Stained skin. Nor may it be given to another.
He could see only one way to interpret that: Vicky was in deep, irreversible danger.
Tom said, "I heard something about a 'faraway place.' Where do you think that means?"
"Someplace you don't come back from."
The Otherness maybe. He and Dad had had a brush with some of its inhabitants in Florida. The thought of Vicky in a place like that… unbearable.
Eighty-three hours… why that number? Sounded like a prime, but so what?
He did a quick calculation: Vicky had activated the Lilitongue around nine P.M. last night. It was now going on three. That left roughly sixty-five hours before she was "transported to a faraway place."
He wanted to be sick.
Tom said, "Maybe the book's wrong."
Jack shook his head. "Cool it with the wishful thinking. You saw the mark on Vicky's back. This morning it was bigger. It's stretching out to encircle her, just like the Compendium said."
"Shit. I feel so awful about this."
"You should." Jack wanted more than ever to strangle him. "You damn well should."
"Hey—"
"Shut up, Tom. Just shut the fuck up. I need to think."
Did he ever. How was he going to break this to Gia?
7
-62:04
"What's wrong, Mom?"
Gia tried to hold back the tears as she looked at Vicky. She'd let a single sob escape. She had to stifle the second. She sensed that if she let it push through, it would burst the dam and she wouldn't be able to stop.
Jack sat to her right on the couch, his arm around her back. Vicky stood to her left. Tom had secluded himself in the kitchen. A single reading lamp on the side table lit the old dark book-lined shelves of the Sutton Square house.
"It's okay, honey." She prayed her voice wouldn't shatter. "I'm just very sad."
"Why? Is it the book?"
"Yes, honey."
She slipped her arms around her child and squeezed her.
"Is it a sad book?"
"Very sad."
The Compendium lay on her lap. Gia stared at the illustration of the Lilitongue, hating it. Then, through tear-blurred eyes, she read the text for the fourth time, searching for a shred of hope.