The Blood by D. J. MacHale

Damon cautiously approached the stranger. "If you are not Brennus, who are you and why would you think I am looking for you?"

  "How about you first thank me for saving you from them critters?" Sanger said.

  Damon glanced nervously in the direction of the fleeing demons. "You have my gratitude. What are they?"

  "Figments," Sanger replied. "I think they come from our own thoughts, or some such thing. Just like this whole place. It's all just a version of what we had in life. A real nasty version."

  "So they do not actually exist?" Damon asked.

  "Oh they're real enough. They ate your horse, didn't they?"

  "How did you know . . . I mean, yes they did."

  "All part of the show, I guess," Sanger said knowingly. "All part of the torture. What you see around here is exactly what you don't want to see."

  "So my horse is all right?"

  "Your horse was never all right," Sanger snapped. "None of this is. It's all just a vision."

  Damon took a deep breath. "I suppose that makes sense."

  "About as much sense as all of us understanding each other's language," Sanger replied. "Far as I can tell, we don't all hail from the same place. Or time."

  Damon said, "You still haven't told me why you believe I am looking for you."

  Sanger stepped up to Damon and held up his lamp so that his eyes lit up. A chill crept up Damon's spine. It was an alien feeling for him.

  "All spirits are drawn to their own destiny in the Blood, " Sanger said. "I don't know you from a haystack, but I feel as though we should be together. Maybe you should tell me why."

  Damon had regained his composure. He was now calculating the new rules of the Blood and how he could use them to his advantage.

  "I seek a spirit named Brennus," Damon said with confidence. "Perhaps you could help me locate him."

  Sanger looked Damon up and down as if he were no more impressed by him than the demons he had just scared away.

  "Gets pretty dull around here," Sanger answered. "I've been looking for a little something to spark things up. Maybe putting you together with Brennus would be just the thing."

  Damon's heart raced. "You can bring me to him?"

  Sanger turned his head, spit, wiped his chin with his sleeve, and said, "Maybe. If there's something in it for me." Damon tried not to smile.

  Sanger was his.

  Damon said, "What if I told you I could release you from the Blood?"

  It was Sanger's turn to smile. His cracked lips parted into a wide grin, revealing yellow, chipped teeth.

  "I'd say you just bought yourself a guide."

  15

  "I'm going with you," Marsh declared.

  "Forget it," Cooper shot back. "I've been watching out for you all my life. And death. This time I'm watching my own back."

  "I don't need you to take care of me," Marsh argued. Coop laughed sarcastically.

  They were aboard Ree's subway car in her vision. The Watcher was long gone. Ree sat on her couch, quietly listening to the boys.

  "Look, Ralph," Coop continued. "You made a mistake. You were out of your head. I get it. But it's done. You don't have to try and make up for it. Move on."

  "I'm just as much a part of this as you are," Marsh argued. "No, I'm more a part of it. The only reason Damon went after you was to get to me."

  "Yeah, and when he did, you gave him exactly what he wanted."

  "I thought we were moving on?"

  "Stop! All right?" Coop exclaimed. "This isn't Xbox. We're talking about going to hell here. Literally. There's no reset button to hit and start over if things go bad."

  "I know that," Marsh replied calmly. "I'm going."

  "Not with me you're not. Look, I may be cheesed off at you but you are still my brother and I won't let you do this."

  "I'm going," Marsh stated matter-of-factly.

  "Why? What are you trying to prove?" Coop shouted with exasperation.

  As Coop's frustration grew, Marsh actually became more calm.

  "I'm not trying to prove anything," Marsh finally said, then added thoughtfully, "Except that maybe we're better than this."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Marsh glanced to his mom, who was hanging on his every word.

  "I've seen a lot of things I'm having trouble accepting, and I'm not talking about the Morpheus Road," he said. "What bothers me is seeing the depths people can sink to in order to get what they want . . . including me."

  "Yeah, well, welcome to reality," Cooper said.

  Marsh nodded sadly. "I guess. Maybe I'm naive but I'm beginning to realize that mistakes are part of life. It's impossible to always know the exact right thing to do. What's important is how we recover from bad choices."

  Coop was ready to leap in with an argument, but didn't have one.

  Marsh continued, "We've been challenged to stop Damon. We didn't ask for the job and made plenty of bad moves that only made things worse, but that doesn't change the fact that Damon must be stopped and the Watchers are looking to us to do it."

  "I hear you," Coop said, his anger fading. "And you're right. But you gotta be realistic. This is going to get nasty and I don't think you're up to it. I'm sorry."

  "My whole life you've been pushing me to take chances, and all I've done is push back. I'm not pushing back anymore, Coop. I'm going."

  Coop ran his hands through his hair, searching for the right words that would convince his best friend to back off. In desperation he turned to Ree.

  "Talk to him," Coop implored. "Tell him he can't do this."

  Ree had been watching her son with pride throughout the argument. His words had rung painfully true to her.

  "I don't think I'll ever get over the guilt of having helped unearth the poleax," she said. "We're facing the apocalypse and I bear much of the blame. I too hate to see the depths that we can sink to, and I am not as naive as either of you. But I also know that second chances exist. It's what the Black is all about. The worst thing we could do is not take them, because I think that's what the Watchers are waiting for us to do."

  "But we are taking them," Coop said. "Round up the Guardians. Marsh can help you with that if he wants. Leave Damon to me."

  Ree took a breath and said, "I will do exactly that, but I believe Marsh should go with you."

  Coop whipped her a surprised look.

  Marsh broke out in a broad grin.

  "Seriously?" Coop shouted, stunned. "You're willing to send your son to hell?"

  "I'm willing to let him grow up and follow his head, and his heart."

  Marsh sat down next to his mother and held her hand. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.

  Coop paced furiously. "This is . . . this is just . . . wrong. You think you're feeling guilty now? What're you going to do if this turns out bad, which it probably will?"

  Ree stood, pulling Marsh to his feet.

  "I don't think it will," she said with confidence. She held out her hand to Coop. "Come with me, both of you. I want to show you something."

  Coop hesitated, then reached out. Ree squeezed both their hands reassuringly as the colorful fog appeared before them. They stepped into the swirl of light on the subway car . . .

  . . . and out onto a quiet street in a small Greek village. Marsh and Coop looked around to get their bearings. It was Marsh who first understood.

  "I know where we are," he announced, pointing to an ancient, crumbling temple that sat at the end of the winding street.

  "Yeah, I know that building," Coop said. "I think."

  "You do. We're still in my vision," Ree explained. "It's a remote corner that I've only been to once before, and once in the Light."

  "The Temple of the Morning Light," Marsh said solemnly.

  Coop did a double take at the structure. "Really?" he asked. "That's it?"

  "It's how I remember the village of Ammoudia," Ree answered. "I have no idea what the temple looks like in the Light now, since the earthquake."

  "Why are we here, Mom?" Mars
h asked.

  Ree's answer was to walk toward the crumbling building. Marsh and Coop exchanged glances and followed without a word. Ree led them along the same fateful route she had taken with Ennis Mobley on her last journey in the Light. They approached the tall, domed building and stepped through the soaring entryway.

  "It's exactly like I pictured it," Coop said in awe.

  They sidestepped the rubble of broken furniture to enter a corridor on the far side that led to the wooden framed opening that was the portal to an empty storage space . . . empty except for a hole in the floor that Ennis had created in his quest to uncover an ancient mystery.

  A flashlight sat on the wooden frame, waiting for them. Ree grabbed it, flicked it on, and climbed through. The boys followed, staying close to her as she descended the stone stairs that brought them to the underground chamber and the snaking passageway that led toward the Necromanteio. The Oracle of the Dead.

  They moved quickly through the twisting catacombs, passing the mummified remains of the long-forgotten. Neither had to ask what their ultimate destination was.

  "That's it," Ree finally declared.

  She stopped, shining her light on the stone sarcophagus that was supposedly the tomb of Damon of Epirus, but was in reality the seal over the Rift that Damon had created so many centuries before.

  "This is how it appeared before we broke the seal and uncovered the crucibles," Ree explained.

  "Is there a Rift in your vision too?" Marsh asked.

  "No," Ree answered. "But there's something else."

  She handed Cooper the flashlight and reached to the top of the crypt to grab a small stone container.

  "The box that held the six crucibles," Marsh said in awe. Ree slid off the heavy lid and tipped it so the others could see inside.

  "I don't get it," Coop said. "I thought there were six."

  "There were," Ree explained. "In the Light."

  The box held only one of the golden orbs that contained the blood of Alexander the Great that were created as a curse by the ancients to keep Damon away from the Rift he had created. Ree took the orb from the stone box and placed the empty container back on top of the tomb.

  "Sometimes the best way to hide something is to put it in plain sight," she explained.

  The golden ball reflected the light from the flashlight like a shiny Christmas ornament. The boys stared at it, both mesmerized and confused.

  The realization hit Marsh first.

  "It's the real thing," he declared. "That's not part of your vision. It's the sixth crucible."

  "What!" Coop exclaimed. "It's been here all along?"

  Ree explained, "When I fell through the Rift into the Black, I had two crucibles. Once I learned of their power, I chose to hide one. I didn't tell a soul about it. Not even Adeipho or Zoe. I figured it was the best way to keep it safe in case things went bad . . . and things have gone very bad."

  She took Marsh's hand and placed the golden ball in his open palm. "This will keep you safe from Damon. It's the only thing I can do to make sure you come back."

  She turned to Coop and added, "That you'll both come back."

  Marsh looked to Cooper, expecting a protest.

  He didn't get one.

  "I'm going to do exactly what you suggested," Ree continued. "I'm going to Zoe's vision and help her bring the Guardians back together. Go into the Blood. Both of you. Find the Watcher. Get him to help you stop Damon. If he doesn't help you, bring him back through the Rift."

  "Why?" Coop asked.

  "Because I'll use that black sword on him myself. You can tell him that."

  "Yes, ma'am," was all Coop could say.

  Ree faced Marsh and said, "Damon used you. He used all of us. Repay the favor."

  Marsh glanced to Cooper.

  Cooper raised an eyebrow and said, "Your mom's a badass."

  Ree said, "I think it's come down to this. The Watchers look over all spirits, not just the good ones. Cooper was wrong. I think you do have something to prove, Marsh. We all do. We have to show the Watchers that mankind knows the right way."

  "And then what?" Marsh asked.

  "Then maybe they'll step in and end this. They've done it before."

  "And what if they don't?" Coop asked.

  Ree said, "Then at least we'll know we went down swinging."

  Ree pulled Marsh close, hugging him, fighting the fear of losing her conviction. And her son.

  "I love you," she said. She put her arm around Coop and added, "Both of you. I am so proud."

  The three stood together in the dark vision, committing to memory those last few moments together.

  Ree finally pulled back and said, "Now it's time to fight."

  The Flavian Amphitheater was empty.

  The cheering crowds had long since departed. Four Roman soldiers stood guard on the floor of the arena in front of the dimensional tear that continued to spew purple light.

  "They've all got the killer swords," Coop pointed out.

  Cooper and Marsh had crept through the darkened stadium unnoticed. They peered over the brick wall that surrounded the arena, directly opposite the Rift.

  "And we've only got one," Marsh whispered.

  "It won't be as tough as it looks," Coop replied. "We just have to pick our spot and get past one of them. No way they'll follow us through the Rift."

  Coop clutched his own black sword. He knew he would have to use it to destroy yet another spirit. Or two.

  "Don't worry," Marsh whispered. "I've got your back."

  Coop gave Marsh a small smile. "You realize this is more important than either of us. If it comes down to taking out Damon or saving our own skins . . ."

  He didn't complete the thought.

  "I get it," Marsh said. "You realize this wasn't how I planned on spending the summer."

  Coop chuckled. "You mean you'd rather be hanging out at the beach?"

  "I'd pretty much rather be hanging out anywhere else. But I'm glad we're here."

  Coop nodded, then took off running, crouching low, staying below the top of the wall. Marsh followed right behind him. The two circled halfway around the stadium until they were twenty yards from the Rift. Cautiously they both peered up and over at the guards below.

  "This is cake," Coop whispered. "They're looking out at the arena, not back at the Rift. We'll get right above the opening, then drop down and—"

  "Look out!" Marsh screamed.

  The guards on the arena floor weren't alone.

  A Roman soldier leaped at them from a tunnel that ran below the stands. He had a sword. A black sword. He slashed down at Cooper, who raised his own sword in defense. He deflected the blow then jabbed a punch to the soldier's gut. The beefy Roman spirit doubled over with a grunt.

  "Go!" Coop yelled to Marsh.

  Marsh didn't hesitate. He jumped up and ran along the wall, headed for the top of the Rift. He'd only gotten a few steps when he glanced back to see that the soldier was back on his feet, and on the attack.

  Coop swung at him but the soldier wouldn't be fooled twice. He dodged out of the way and Coop's fist caught nothing but air. The soldier countered with a swipe of his sword and Coop could only protect himself. He held his sword up and deflected another blow but he was no match for the more experienced soldier. The Roman parried Coop's defense and knocked his sword arm away, leaving Coop wide open. The soldier pulled his sword back to strike . . .

  . . . and was hit from behind. Marsh had come back and launched himself at the guy, feetfirst. The soldier's head snapped back as he fell forward, out of control. Coop dodged around him and ran for the Rift.

  Marsh got up and sprinted after him.

  The soldiers down on the arena floor saw the fight unfolding in the stands above but stayed at their posts, standing ten yards in front of the Rift. They were no threat.

  But the ten soldiers who were running along the stands from either side were.

  "As soon as we land in the arena, the guys down there will attack," Marsh exclaim
ed, breathless.

  Coop looked around, desperate for an idea.

  "So let's not land," he exclaimed, and ran for the top of the Rift.

  Lying across the seats that were directly above the Rift was the heavy rope netting that was used to protect the spectators from stray weapons that were thrown from the arena. It was attached to the top edge of the wall and spread out over several rows of seats, ready to be hoisted.

  Coop stuck his black sword through his belt and grabbed at the netting several rows up.

  Marsh saw what he was doing and followed his lead.

  "Go no farther!" came an angry warning.

  The soldiers were running fast, seconds from reaching Marsh and Cooper. The lead soldier in each group held a black sword.

  Marsh grabbed the netting with both hands and nodded to Cooper. He was ready. "Ralph?" Coop shouted.

  "Yeah?"

  "Go to hell."

  Clutching the net, the two launched themselves over the edge of the wall.

  The soldiers in the arena saw what was happening and closed on the Rift . . . too late.

  Marsh and Cooper sailed down, the top edge of the net caught, the ropes pulled tight, and their fall turned into a swing that arced over the arena floor, past the guards, and flung them straight through the Rift.

  Into the Blood.

  16

  Damon wasn't used to taking orders.

  With each step his anger grew more intense as he stared at the back of the tall, wan spirit who called himself Sanger. He kept his rage under control, though. If Sanger could lead him to Brennus, it would be well worth swallowing his ample pride. There would be plenty of time to destroy Sanger once he was no longer of use to him.

  Sanger held his lantern out as they walked, not to light their way but to keep the light-sensitive demons at bay.

  They trudged through many visions . . . a battlefield crisscrossed with trenches, the dry dead garden of a crumbling castle, and a mall with no customers or merchandise. Sanger walked with authority. Damon wished he could say the same.

  "How much farther?" he asked.

  "We'll be there when we get there," Sanger replied, tweaking Damon's ego yet again.

  "That sword you got," Sanger said. "Never seen nothing like it."