When he reached the old fold-out secretary at the far end of the room, he angled it out from the wall and removed the lower rear panel. His collection of saps, knives, bullets, and pistols hung on self-adhering hooks or cluttered the floor of the space. By far the largest weapon was the huge Ruger SuperRedhawk revolver chambered for . 454 Casulls. He had no use for it here in the city, but it always made him think of his dad. Maybe that was why he couldn’t let it go. He wasn’t good at letting go of stuff anyway.
On the other hand, something in the compartment wouldn’t let go of him-a ten-by-twelve-inch flap of human skin. He’d buried it three times but it always returned to his apartment.
He unfolded the rectangle, as supple as suede, with no hint of decomposition. The pattern of pocked scars crisscrossed with fine, razor-thin cuts used to confound him. Later he learned it was a map of Opus Omega, the pocks indicating places where concrete pillars-some of them fashioned in the recently razed building on the Wm. Blagden amp; Sons grounds-had been buried around the world.
Everything was connected… everything.
Another thing he’d learned about the skin was that he couldn’t cut it up. He’d tried to slice it into pieces to get rid of it, but it wouldn’t allow itself to be cut. Or rather, wouldn’t allow itself to stay cut.
He wondered if that was still true.
He pulled out his Spyderco Endura and flipped out the curved blade. He pierced the skin with the point near a corner and sliced downward.
The blade parted the skin, which promptly sealed itself closed behind it. Just as before. Good.
As the Lady had said of the bullets fired at her yesterday: If they are of this Earth, they cannot harm me. Nothing of this Earth could harm her.
The Endura’s blade was of this Earth.
But Gia had started Jack thinking about the blade of the Gaijin Masamune. It had “fallen from the sky.” Which meant it was not of this Earth. Could it harm the Lady?
He picked up the katana and stretched the flap against the point. His gut clenched as he saw the pierced edges of the skin glow a ghostly blue as it poked through. But only briefly. Taking a breath, he sliced downward. Again the glow along the cut edges-which stayed cut and separate, even after the glow faded. No self-repair when cut by the Gaijin Masamune.
His saliva evaporated as he stared at the blade.
This could do it… this could kill the Lady… cause her third death… end her existence.
At least that was the way it looked.
Only one person would know for sure.
2
The other three members of what Jack had come to call the Ally’s Gang of Four were seated around the table in the Lady’s front room when he arrived. Weezy was leaning toward Glaeken where he sat at the head of the table, shaking his head as he stared at the Compendium.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Weezy looked shocked. “But-but-but you must have.”
Glaeken shrugged. “I-”
“Can I interrupt?”
Jack didn’t know what was going on, but whatever it was, the contents of the blanket-wrapped bundle under his arm took precedence.
Weezy looked annoyed as she tapped the open page in the Compendium before Glaeken. “This could be important.”
Jack unrolled the blanket, revealing the katana and the rectangle of skin.
“Not as important as these.”
“We’ve all seen them before,” Weezy said.
He held up the sliced piece of skin and wiggled the cut flap. “Not like this.”
He pulled out his Endura and held it up. “Of this Earth.”
He made a quick cut, showing everyone how the skin healed itself. Then he unsheathed the katana.
“Not of this Earth.”
He made a cut-again the blue glow along the edges, again no healing.
Weezy’s face had gone white, Glaeken looked concerned, but the Lady seemed unperturbed.
“That skin is not me,” she said.
“But it used to be yours.”
She used to be able to appear in many guises. Jack had known her as Anya when she’d been stripped of this piece of skin-or rather, stripped of everything but this skin.
That had been her first death… caused by creatures not of this Earth.
Then her second death, caused by the Fhinntmanchca, also not of this Earth.
And now the Gaijin Masamune… would that cause her third and final death?
“Still, it is not me.” She held out her hand. “I know this sword. You showed it to me.”
“Yes. Last year.” He handed it to her. “Remember what you said?”
“Of course.” She held the katana by the handle and studied the pierced, pitted blade. “I said I sensed something significant, something of great import about it… that it would be a means to a momentous end.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “ Your end?”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”
Without warning, she held out her left arm and slashed at it. Blue light flared and her cry of pain mixed with Weezy’s cry of alarm as the blade sliced through her wrist and embedded itself in the tabletop.
But the hand remained attached.
“Jeez,” Jack whispered. “What the hell?”
“The blade can cause me pain,” the Lady said. “But it cannot damage me.”
Jack leaned in for a closer look-not even a line to mark the blade’s passing.
“Swell. But how about a little warning before you pull something like that?”
“Th-that was your wrist,” Weezy said, still visibly shaken. “What if it pierces a vital organ?”
The Lady rose. “Like this?”
Before Jack could stop her, she turned, placed the butt of the handle against the wall, and impaled herself on the blade. She yelped in pain as pale blue light flashed and the point emerged from her upper back.
She turned and faced them, her expression pained as she looked down at the sword protruding from her chest.
“Could someone help, please?”
Jack was already halfway there. He stepped up to her, gripped the handle and, after a heartbeat’s hesitation, yanked it free. No blood, not even moisture on the blade.
“Thank you,” she said.
Jack couldn’t help but be angry. “Are you crazy? That could have killed you.”
But the Lady was looking at Weezy. “No fear of piercing my vital organs, dear. I have none. I am all of a piece.”
Weezy opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.
Jack could. He held up the sword. “Remember what else you told me about this?”
“I believe I said it might be used for good or ill.”
“No, I mean what you told me to do with it.”
She nodded. “I said to throw it into the sea.”
“You went further than that. I believe you suggested getting on a boat and dropping it into the Hudson Canyon.”
She nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“Well, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He glanced at Glaeken. “Unless you object.”
The old man frowned. “Why would I object?”
“Well, it’s sort of yours. You supplied Masamune with the original ‘metal from the sky.’ I figure you should have some say.”
Glaeken shook his head. “I lay no claim to that blade.”
“Then it goes.”
“Thank God,” Weezy said. “When?”
“ASAP.”
“Good or ill,” the Lady said. “You never know.”
“I know the ill it can do. That’s enough.” He turned to Weezy. “How deep is the Hudson Canyon?”
She shrugged. “Depends on how far out you go. It’s four hundred miles long. Go out about a hundred and the canyon floor is probably a mile from the surface.”
“A mile sounds good.”
“Hire a tuna boat captain to take care of it for you on his next trip.”
He shook his head as he sheathed the sword in its curved scabbard. The Gaijin Masamune was a collector’s item. Couldn’t risk somebody finding out and getting greedy.
“This needs the personal touch.”
He’d hire a boat, have it take him out over the canyon, and when they reached a point where the depth finder read a mile, he’d discard the scabbard, unwind the handle, and drop the blade over the side.