Part 56 (2/2)
”Mother.”
He turned and began walking up toward Allen Street.
”Any idea where he's going?” Hank said.
Drexler shook his head. ”No. But I believe the One does.”
”The One ... is he even human?”
”Yes, but something more.”
Hank had figured that. ”Can he be killed?”
Drexler gave him a sharp look. ”Don't even think-”
”I'm not thinking anything.” True. The question had popped out seemingly on its own. ”Just wondering.”
”Well, then, the answer is yes. But not by any such as us.”
”Who then?”
”Another ... like him.”
”You mean there's two two of him?” of him?”
If so, he wouldn't really be the One One.
”Not exactly. The two are mortal enemies. And that is all I can say on the subject.”
”I need more. Is the One going to be the head honcho after the cosmic s.h.i.+t hits the cosmic fan?”
Drexler's lips pursed. ”You have such a way with words, Mister Thompson.”
”You know what I'm saying.”
”Yes, I do. And yes, once he defeats his counterpart, the Yang to his Yin, he will be the Lord and Master of this sphere.” He glanced at Hank. ”Don't tell me you had illusions of-”
”Hey, no way. You crazy?” But he had. He'd thought that with his Kickers at his back ... ”But we-you and me, that is-we're going to get to wet our beaks, right?”
He nodded. ”When the Change comes, you and I will have places beside the One.”
Well, that would have to do. Probably be fine. Just like Daddy promised-he and Jerry would be princes when the Others returned. Too bad Jerry wasn't around to join in.
Drexler pointed at Darryl's retreating figure. ”We don't want him getting too far ahead.”
As they began walking, Hank thought about how reality had begun doing slow cartwheels since his first dream about the stick figure known as the Kicker Man, becoming increasingly surreal until blossoming into the complete and total insanity of this past week.
Darryl ... f.u.c.king Darryl, of all people ... the Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca ... the Maker of the Way ... dissolving everything he touched. It was all going down, just as his daddy had said. In fact, it might be all going down today, and he was right here in the heart of it. ... the Maker of the Way ... dissolving everything he touched. It was all going down, just as his daddy had said. In fact, it might be all going down today, and he was right here in the heart of it.
Hank's pulse raced-he felt cranked and scared. Made him want to pee, but he kept walking.
9.
The man who was more than a man, who was known as the One to many, and as Rasalom to a few, who had numerous names, the most important known only to him, stood on the roof of the Lodge and waited.
In an hour or so, perhaps more, it would happen. He would know when it did. He would feel it.
And so would someone else.
You're nearby, Glaeken. I know it. When it happens you'll feel it and you'll know my time has come. And you'll be afraid.
Though difficult to imagine Glaeken afraid, Rasalom relished the thought. Glaeken would have good cause for fear when the Lady was gone. For the beacon would be turned off, the Enemy would abandon this sphere as lifeless and worthless, and Glaeken would be on his own.
What would that mean? Would he lose his power-his resilience, his immortality? Would he become just another mortal?
Wouldn't that be delicious.
You will pay for what you have made me suffer down these millennia. You imprisoned me, you even thought you'd slain me, but always I found a way back. And this time you you will die, long after you wish to, and you will find no way back. will die, long after you wish to, and you will find no way back.
Rasalom's only regret was that success today would mean forgoing his vengeance on the transgressor. Slowly destroying that man's soul a second time would have been pure bliss. But he couldn't have everything. He'd see the man suffer like everyone else, but that universal fate lacked the elan of what he'd been planning.
Prepare yourself, Glaeken. The end begins today.
10.
The man who once had been more than a man, who was known as Mr. Veilleur to many, and as Glaeken to a few, who had had numerous names, stood at his window and stared out at the Sheep Meadow.
Far below, light traffic cruised Central Park West. A quiet, peaceful, sunny, summer Sunday morning in New York.
Why then was he so filled with dread?
The Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca ... it could be only that. The Order, or perhaps Rasalom himself, had succeeded in bringing it into being. ... it could be only that. The Order, or perhaps Rasalom himself, had succeeded in bringing it into being.
And that meant ... what?
He wished he knew. Perhaps then he might be able to head it off. But its purpose had always been a mystery.
He could only wait and see. But he felt something awful coming, something cataclysmic.
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