Billy: Messenger of Powers (39 page)

Cameron was within twenty feet now.

Billy was sure he was breaking all the bones in his thumb. “Please, please, please, please,” he said in a wheeze that disturbed him to hear coming from his own mouth.

Fifteen feet.

Ten feet.

Nine….

Eight….

Seven….

DING!

Billy almost fainted with relief—which would have been a very bad strategy under the present circumstances—as the nearest elevator slid open with a musical chime. “Whaddya want?” it asked in a familiar New York accident. It was the same elevator that had taken Billy and Vester to the stadium to see Fulgora’s Challenge against Napalm. Without waiting for a reply to its question, the elevator said in a bright Bronx tone, “Hey, it’s you! Where’s your buddy, the fireman?”

Billy threw himself into the elevator. Behind him, Cameron screamed in rage and then said something under his breath. Billy felt something nameless whip by him, numbing the tip of his ear. Whatever spell Cameron had tried to throw at him, it had just barely missed.

“Close!” screamed Billy. Cameron was raising his hand again, clearly close enough to hit Billy with something awful that would end his adventure right now.

“Where you wanna go?” asked the elevator.

“UP!” was all Billy could think to say.

“You got it!” said the elevator. Cameron said a word, and then moved his arm like he was pitching a fastball right at Billy’s head, but at the last second the elevator’s doors slid shut. There was a muffled thud outside at almost the same instant.

“Ow!” howled the elevator. “No respect, I tells ya.” Billy felt the elevator begin to move upward, and saw as before flashes of the floors they were passing. He felt like kissing the elevator. “Ever since the place got put under new management,” the elevator was still saying in its cabbie-like voice, “everything’s just the pits.”

“Sorry,” Billy said automatically, still reveling in the experience of being neither zombie-zapped nor Cameron-creamed.

“Yeah, you’re all right,” said the elevator. “You and your buddy, what was his name?”

“Vester,” said Billy sadly.

“Yeah, he was a good one. Good sense of humor. Not a lot of folks with senses of humor, especially not these days. Here,” it continued, “you look pooped. Take a load off.” A seat popped out of the side wall, and Billy dropped into it gratefully. He felt like a tire with all the air let out of it, flat and spent.

The elevator was still talking. “Yeah, now it’s just nasty people. No politeness, now it’s just ‘Go here,’ and ‘Do that,’ and ‘No, I will
not
take my dead bodies up the stairs.’ It’s enough to make a grown elevator cry.”

“Sorry,” said Billy again. This time, he was more talking to himself. He felt very alone once again, the elation over his narrow escape dissipating and a sense of solitude, fear, and desperation taking its place. Vester. Tempus. Ivy. All of them gone. Maybe unconscious wherever they were, maybe worse.

Billy sniffled in spite of himself. He felt hot, stinging tears. Partly they were fear, partly they were shame. He felt embarrassed. Ivy, ever the hopeful pacifist, had gone with dignity to her fate. Vester and Tempus had fought like Roman gladiators, without fear even though there was no hope of victory. And what had Billy done? Cowered and ran.

Billy’s mom had told him a lot of times that fighting usually wasn’t a good thing, and that sometimes it took more courage to run from a fight than it did to get into one. The way she had told him that, he got the sense that she knew about it from personal experience. As always with his parents, she wouldn’t talk about whatever it was in her past that made her believe it so fervently, but Billy believed her.

But at the same time, he didn’t see how his mom’s philosophy about running away could possibly apply here; he didn’t see how running away would be a sign of bravery or wisdom in this case. He hadn’t done anything. He had no power. No Unicorn had come to save the day. All he’d done was provide an audience to his friends’ defeat.

He sniffled. “Say,” said the elevator. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” said Billy.

“Here,” said the elevator. “Have a hanky.” A box popped out of a compartment and Billy took the proffered tissue. He blew his nose loudly. “Don’t litter, though,” said the elevator, and another compartment popped open, with a little sign above it that said, “Biodegradable Trash Only—No Fizzles or Rock Monsters.” Billy tossed his tissue into the trash, then put his head in his hands.

“Hey,” said the elevator. “Cheer up, it can’t be as bad as it seems. Whatever it is, it just can’t be.”

“You’re right,” said Billy. “It isn’t as bad as it seems, it’s about a million billion trillion times worse.”

“Whoa,” said the elevator. “That’s pretty bad.” Billy nodded sadly. “Well, if you want, I can give you some magic that will help, guaranteed.”

Billy felt himself brighten somewhat. Perhaps this elevator was more than just a conveyance: maybe it was one of the allies Mrs. Russet’s frog-message had spoken of. “Really?” Billy asked. “What magic?”

“The magic,” began the elevator, and a drum roll sounded from its speakers, building up the suspense, “of good humor.”

“What?” asked Billy, totally confused.

“Did ya hear the one about the two peanuts who were in an alley and got assaulted?” the elevator asked with a braying laugh. “What about the one where the mushroom walks into a restaurant and the manager tells him, ‘We don’t serve mushrooms here,’ and the mushroom says, ‘Why not? I’m a fun-guy.’ Get it? Fun-guy. Like ‘fungi,’ like a fancy word for a mushroom. Ah-hahahaha!” The elevator was cackling semi-hysterically at its own jokes, and Billy could actually feel the thing rocking back and forth with laughter.

Billy just sat there dully, not sure how to react. Jokes were definitely not the thing he needed right now. He needed something tougher on his side. Like a deadly poisonous bear made entirely of smaller but also-poisonous bees. Or at least an F-16 fighter jet.

The elevator was still laughing. Then the laughter petered out, and Billy could swear he heard the sound of jolly tears being wiped from an eye. “Whew! Those never go out of style, do they?” asked the elevator.

Then it dinged. Billy jumped at the sudden sound.

“What was that?” he asked.

“We’re here,” replied the elevator, still wheezing from its fit of laughter. The doors slid open.

“Where’s ‘here’?” asked Billy, but the view he was presented with as the doors opened gave him his answer.

“You said you just wanted to go up,” answered the elevator. “Well, this is as up as I go.”

It was the top of the tower. Nearby, Billy could see the river that bisected the tower, though instead of being bordered by beautiful flowers and leaves, now the river was muddy and full of rocks. The tower itself was covered in rubble, evidence of the fight that Ivy had told Billy about. The Darksiders had taken the Dawnwalkers of the Council, but Billy could see that, like Tempus and Vester, the Councilors hadn’t gone down without a fight.

Nevertheless, this didn’t look like a good place to be. The top of the tower would be open and exposed, nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide if he was found.

“Well?” prompted the elevator, and Billy realized he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Uh,” said Billy, unsure. “Couldn’t I go somewhere else?”

“Like where?” asked the elevator.

“Um, somewhere to hide?” asked Billy hopefully. A hiding spot would be good. And quick, because he had no way of knowing if Cameron could find out where he’d gone to, or if the bigger boy was hot on his trail.

“Well, sure, I can take you right to some primo hiding places!” said the elevator enthusiastically.

“Great!” said Billy, brightening at the first good news in what felt like forever.

“Of course, you’ll have to travel with someone for part of the way,” continued the elevator.

“What? Who?” said Billy in a panic.

“Dunno. Some lady just pressed my button, if you know what I mean. Creepy gal, dressed all in black, big nasty bug on her shoulder.”

“Mrs.
Black
?” screamed Billy.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” said the elevator happily. Then in a conspiratorial tone, it said, “Not one of my favorite passengers, I can tell ya.”

“But, but,” said Billy, sounding like an airplane engine trying to turn over. “But, but, not her. Can’t you just ignore her?”

“Nah, rules are rules. I’m an elevator. Someone presses my button, I gotta go. But I can hide you after I pick her up,” it said reassuringly.

“But she’ll have killed me by then!” moaned Billy.

The elevator was silent for a moment. “That’ll definitely make it harder to hide you,” it finally said. “But not impossible,” it continued. “Like they always say, ‘You can always find a good places to shove a corpse.’”

“What? Who says that?” said Billy in a frenzied tone. He was fairly sure he could actually feel his brain melting in a combination of confusion and panic. “Never mind,” he said an instant later, before the elevator could go off again on one of its well-intentioned but supremely unhelpful tangents. “I’ll just get off here,” he managed, and stepped out of the still-open doors.

“All righty then,” said the elevator. “It’s been a pleasure, kid, as always. Now I’m off to get that Mrs. Black.” The elevator shuddered as its doors closed. “Ugh,” it said. “Creepy people wearing creepy bug pins, the place has just gone straight to…,” then its voice was lost to Billy’s hearing as it dropped through the ground of the tower, leaving no trace of its existence behind.

Once again, Billy was alone. He appeared to be in a somewhat better situation now, since there were no zombies around, but he still felt very exposed. In fact, he felt more than exposed. He felt like he was being watched.

He looked behind him, and saw immediately that the elevator had deposited him within a few yards of the Diamond Dais. The podium was still cracked, with the single thin shard of crystal still jutting up from its center.

Billy also saw something else. He saw that his feeling had been correct. He
was
being watched.

The figure was draped across the Black Throne, one leg thrown disdainfully over the arm of the dark pearl chair. The man smiled when he saw Billy, then hopped in an almost chipper way out of the seat. The happy jaunt to his gait, however, was belied by the serpentine look in his eyes, and a grin like a spider inviting a fly into its parlor.

“Hello, Billy,” said Wolfen.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH

Billy’s tongue felt like a giant rock in his mouth, thick and dry and useless for speech. A sudden feeling of fear had gripped him from his toes to the crown of his head.

Wolfen walked to the edge of the Diamond Dais and jumped lightly to the ground below, seeming almost to float down. His green eyes flashed with a disturbing inner light, as though Wolfen’s mind was ablaze with a dark fire.