"Yes. Yes, I know. But wait. Wait and it will be better than you can imagine." He swayed and took several deep breaths. "TIAMAT does not reveal herself so easily. Still, I had to attempt it." The Astronomer gestured to the others in the courtyard and they quickly filed out.
"What were you trying to do with that thing? Why did you kill it?" Spector asked, trying to control his need.
"I was trying to contact TIAMAT through one of her lesser creatures. I failed. Therefore it was useless to us." The Astronomer pulled off his robe and turned to the woman. He ran his bloody fingers through her dark pubic hair, then placed both hands on her abdomen. As he mounted her he slipped his hands under her skin and began kneading her internal organs. The woman whimpered, but did not scream. Apparently she was still too disoriented to accept what was happening to her.
Spector watched the act with little concern. From what he could tell, the old man was massaging himself inside the blonde's body. Spector had been only moderately interested in sex before he had died. Now, even that was gone.
If he wanted to shoot the old man, he would probably not get a better chance. He reached for the gun. As he did, the need to kill overpowered him. The Astronomer had released his calming influence. Spector took his hand out of his coat pocket. He knew what he needed. Satisfaction was not what came out the barrel of a gun.
The Astronomer became more excited. The wrinkles on his forehead began to throb visibly, and he was tearing small pieces out of her. Now the woman was screaming.
Spector felt his need building in harmony with the old man's.
"Now," said the Astronomer, thrusting wildly. "Kill her now."
Spector moved in, his face only inches away from hers. He could see the fear in her eyes, and was certain she could see her death in his. He gave her his death. Slowly. He did not want to drown her in it; that would be too quick. He filled her mind and body. She was a writhing, screaming container for the viscous black liquid of his death.
The Astronomer groaned and fell on top of her, jolting Spector from his trancelike state. He was ripping hunks from her with his teeth and hands. The woman was dead.
Spector stepped back and closed his eyes. He had never enjoyed the act of killing until now, but the satisfaction and relief he felt were beyond what he had thought possible. He had controlled his power, made it serve him for the first time. And he knew he needed the Astronomer to be able to do it again.
"Do you still want to kill me?" The Astronomer pulled himself, spent, off the corpse. "I assume the gun is still in your coat. It's either that or this." He held up one of the pennies. There was no real choice. Any doubts were erased by what he had just experienced. He took the coin without hesitation. "Hey, everybody in New York carries a gun. This city is full of some very dangerous people."
The Astronomer laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "This is only the first step. With my help you'll be capable of things you never dreamed possible. From now on there is no James Spector. We of the inner circle will call you Demise. To those who oppose us, you will be death. Swift and merciless."
"Demise, I like the sound of it." He nodded and put the penny in his pocket.
"Trust only those who identify themselves with the coin. Your friends and enemies are chosen for you now. Spend the night if you like. Tomorrow, we'll continue your education." The Astronomer picked up his robe and went back inside. Spector rubbed his temples and wandered back into the building. The pain began to grow again. He accepted it, even loved it. It would be the source of his power and fulfillment. He had drawn the Black Queen and suffered a terrible death, but a miracle occurred. His gift to the world would be the horror inside him. It might not be enough for the world, but it was enough for him.
He curled up under the statue in the foyer and slept the sleep of the dead.
JUBE: FOUR
On the third floor of the Crystal Palace were the private chambers Chrysalis reserved for herself. She was waiting for him in a Victorian sitting room, sitting in a red velvet wingbacked chair behind an oak table. Chrysalis gestured at a seat. She wasted no time. "You've piqued my interest, Jubal."
"I don't know what you mean," Jube said, easing himself down on the edge of a ladder-back chair.
Chrysalis opened an antique satin change purse and extracted a handful of gems. She lined them up on the white tablecloth. "Two star sapphires, one ruby, and a flawless bluewhite diamond," she said in her dry, cool voice. "All uncut, of the highest quality, none weighing less than four carats. All appearing on the streets of jokertown within the past six weeks. Curious, wouldn't you say? What do you make of it?"
"Don't know," Jube replied. "I'll keep an ear out. Did you hear about the joker with the power to squeeze a diamond until it turned into a lump of coal?"
He was bluffing and they both knew it. She pushed a sapphire across the tablecloth with the little finger of her left: hand, its flesh as clear as glass. "You gave this one to a sanitation worker for a bowling ball that he'd found in a dumpster."
"Yeah," Jube said. It was magenta and white, customdrilled for some joker, its six holes arranged in a circle. No wonder it had been dumped.
Chrysalis prodded the ruby with her pinkie, and it moved a half inch. "This one went to a police filing clerk. You wanted to see the records concerning a body liberated from the morgue, and anything they had on this lost bowling ball. I never knew you had such a passion for bowling, Jubal."
Jube slapped his gut. "Don't I look like a bowler? Nothing I like better than to roll a few strikes and drink a few beers."
"You've never set foot in a bowling alley in your life, and you wouldn't know a strike from a touchdown." Her fingerbones had never looked so frightening as when they picked up the diamond. "This item was tendered to Devil John Darlingfoot in my own red room." She rolled it across transparent fingers, and the muscles in her face twisted into what must have been a wry smile.
"It was mother's," Jube blurted.
Chrysalis chuckled. "And she never bothered to have it cut or set? How odd." She put down the diamond, picked up the second sapphire. "And this one truly, Jubal! Did you really think Elmo wouldn't tell me?" She placed the gem back with the others, carefully. "You need to hire someone to perform certain unspecified tasks and investigations. Fine. Why not simply come to me?"
Jube scratched at one of his tusks. "You ask too many questions."
"Fair enough." She swept a hand over the jewels. "We have four here. Have there been others?"
Jube nodded. "One or two. You missed the emeralds."
"A pity. I'm fond of green. The British racing color." She sighed. "Why gems?"
"People were reluctant to take my checks," Jube told her, "and it was easier than carrying large amounts of cash."
"If there are more where these came from," Chrysalis said, "see that they stay there. Let the word get around Jokertown that the Walrus has a secret cache of precious gems, and I wouldn't give a bloody fig for your chances. You may have stirred the waters already, but we'll hope the sharks haven't noticed. Elmo told no one but me, of course, and Devil John has his own peculiar sense of honor, I think we can rely on him to keep mum. As for the garbageman and the police clerk, when I purchased their gems I bought their silence too."
"You didn't have to do that!"
"I know," she said. "The next time you want information, you know how to find the Crystal Palace. Don't you?"
"How much do you know already?" Jube asked her. "Enough to tell when you're lying," Chrysalis replied. "I know you're looking for a bowling ball, for reasons incomprehensible to man, woman, or joker. I know that Darlingfoot stole that joker corpse from the morgue, presumably for pay. It's not the sort of thing he'd do on his own. I know the body was small and furred, with legs like a grasshopper, and quite badly burned. No joker matching that description is known to any of my sources, a curious circumstance. I know that Croyd made a rather large cash deposit the day the body was stolen, and an even larger one the following day, and in between had a public confrontation with Darlingfoot. And I know that you paid Devil John handsomely to reveal whose interests he had represented in this little melodrama, and tried without success to engage his services." She leaned forward. "What I don't know is what all this means, and you know how I abhor a mystery."