Drinking Midnight Wine (40 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Drinking Midnight Wine
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“Do come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
His voice sent shivers up Toby’s spine, and he looked instinctively behind him for some way out, but there, on the edge of the clearing, stood Angel, complete and unharmed and smiling a smile very like Hob’s. One by one the risen dead emerged from the fog to stand with her, a dead army compelled by Hob’s unrelenting will.
“Come in,” said Hob. “And we’ll talk, for a while. You might as well. There’s nowhere else you can go.”
He stood back and gestured for them to enter, and one by one the last hopes of all the worlds entered the house of their enemy.
Eleven
 
Family Ties
 
T
OBY’S FIRST THOUGHT on seeing the interior of the farmhouse parlor was that something had died there, just possibly the room itself. The pockmarked walls were seeping with what looked awfully like pus, and there were larger craters, too, weeping like discharging wounds. The floor was thick and sticky with accumulated filth, and the sourceless light that filled the room was too sharp, too bright; overwhelming to the human eye, it gave everything the exaggerated, distorted look of a fever dream. There was a sense of sickness to the room: physical, emotional, and intellectual. It was not a place where normal, sane people could bear to live. It stank, too, a rank, horrid stench that was almost overpowering. Toby had to fight not to gag too obviously. Houses come to resemble their owners. It occurred to Toby that he was getting his first real look at Nicholas Hob’s mind, or his soul.
Gayle was even weaker here, increasingly unsteady on her feet, and Toby was having to support most of her weight. There were only two chairs, on either side of an elegant coffee table, all looking incongruously normal in such a setting. Toby didn’t wait for permission before settling her onto one of the chairs. Hob might have said no, if asked. Gayle’s face was slack, and wet with sweat, and her eyes were dangerously vague. She didn’t respond when Toby said her name. He looked round at Hob, who was sinking gracefully into the opposite chair.
“What have you done to her, Hob?”
“Just brought her down to everyone else’s level,” Hob said cheerfully. “I thought it was time we all had a little chat, and I don’t want any . . . interruptions.” He looked across at Leo Morn, who was still supporting the weakened Jimmy Thunder. “Do feel free to dump him anywhere, Leo. It’s not as if either of you are going anywhere, just yet.” Then, finally, he looked at Luna.
“Welcome to my home, Mother. It’s not much, but it’s mine, all mine.”
“Oh, this place is really you, Nicholas,” said Luna, still looking round the room rather than at him. “You must have put a lot of effort into getting it to look like this.”
Hob smiled briefly. “You have no idea, Mother. Do make yourself at home. We have so much to talk about.” He turned a charming smile on Toby. “You and I especially have much to discuss. Hi, I’m Nicholas Hob. I’m sure they’ve told you terrible things about me, but you should know by now not to believe everything people say. In Mysterie, there are always more than two sides to any story. And mine is more complex than most. Ask me anything, Toby Dexter, and I promise I will tell you whatever you want to know. Whether you’ll like the answers . . . Where would you like to start?”
“How can you live in a place like
this
?” said Toby.
“This is where I have been forced to live,” said Hob, leaning forward in his chair to fix Toby with an earnest gaze. He ignored the others with almost insolent charm, focusing all his attention on Toby. “A lot of people want me dead, Toby Dexter. People like your companions. People such as they have hounded me across the world and back, for longer than you can imagine, never allowing me to settle anywhere for long. There are only a few places left now, where I can feel safe and secure.
They
took all the good places for themselves. It’s time you knew the truth about me, Toby, and the truth about them.”
“Don’t listen to him,” said Jimmy Thunder. He was sitting on the floor now, with his back propped against the wall, breathing harshly, his voice just a shadow of its former confident self. “You can’t trust the Hob. Can’t trust anything he says. He knows you’re a focal point, knows you’re here for a purpose. He wants to turn you, make you his. He’d say anything, promise you anything, to distract you from your purpose here. You can’t ever trust the Serpent’s Son.”
“You see?” said Hob, leaning back in his chair and crossing his long legs with elegant ease. “They don’t want you to listen to what I have to say. They can’t allow you to know the whole truth. Because there are some things they can’t afford for you to know. Terrible secrets, that they’ve been hiding from you.”
“The Hob is the Prince of Lies,” said Jimmy. “Everyone knows that.”
“Why should I lie, when the truth can be so much more damaging?” said Hob. “Take Gayle, for example. Tell me, Toby—have any of them told you who and what your lady love really is? Would you like to know?”
Toby considered, but only for a moment. “Yes, I want to know. I need to know.”
He looked at Gayle, sitting slumped in the chair beside him, but she said nothing. Toby folded his arms across his chest and looked defiantly at Hob, who smiled back at him almost sadly. Jimmy tried to say something, but Hob overrode him easily.
“Gayle is the human form of Gaia. Mother Earth, the planetary consciousness, the living world that supports us all. When she takes on her aspect, she becomes the Earth, womb and parent to all humankind, and unimaginably powerful. Her sister, Luna, my dear mother, is the Moon, of course. Take deep breaths, Toby. These are big concepts, but you can handle them.”
“So The Serpent In The Sun,” Toby said slowly, “is . . .”
“The Sun. Yes. The Gayle and Luna you’ve been associating with aren’t really human, the way you and even I are. They’re just masks, roles they play, suits they put on when they feel like going slumming. Tiny extensions of themselves they made so that they could walk unnoticed among us. The Gayle who so entranced you is really nothing more than a glove puppet. Gaia can no more love you than you could love one of the amoebae that live in your digestive tract. That’s why she would never tell you the truth, or allow anyone else to tell you. She kept you close to her, in ignorance, because you’re a focal point, and as such, useful to her.”
Toby’s head was spinning. He felt sick. He wished there was another chair. Hob’s voice was calm and reasonable, but the things he was saying were hard to swallow, even after everything Toby had seen so far, even though they explained so very much. He was careful not to look at Gayle, or Luna. He looked challengingly at Hob.
“So . . . all the planets are alive?”
“Everything’s alive, on some level,” said Hob. “Everything’s conscious. And the further up the scale you go, the bigger you get, the more powerful that consciousness becomes. Gaia and Luna and the Serpent are the real Powers and Dominations, because they have power and control over everything we do and are. We only exist on their sufferance because we’re useful, sometimes. I’ve spent all my long life fighting them, struggling to be free. For all of us to be free.”
“But . . . you’re saying Gaia, and Luna, are physically the Earth and the Moon?” said Toby, needing to be sure he’d got that right.
“It’s more of a metaphysical thing,” said Hob. “The women you’ve been allowed to see are only the smallest tips of very large icebergs. Time for a history lesson, I think—the true and terrible origins of life in the solar system, and not at all what they teach you in school. In the beginning was the Firstborn, what we now know as The Serpent In The Sun—the first living consciousness. The Sun, alive and aware and terribly alone. Then, later, the planets awoke and took on sentience, and developed needs and aims of their own. In the beginning they were all one happy family, or so I’ve been told, but it didn’t last. When new life, new sentience, began to appear on the worlds, things changed.
“The Serpent was the Sun, and always would be. An individual consciousness, perfect and unique, but never to know the joys of raising and nurturing life of its own. Gaia, on the other hand, gave birth to teeming hordes of life, great and small, over the millennia. And all kinds of beings grew strong and sentient in her loving care. As long as they didn’t forget their place. Remember the dinosaurs? Cocky bastards, by all accounts. Anyway, Humanity came along very late in the day, the very last species on earth to achieve sentience. They were the weakest creatures, but the most subtle; and as a result, the race with the greatest possibilities for growth and even transcendence. Which is why Gaia continues to tolerate our poisonous presence, despite all the damage we do her. But don’t misunderstand me, Toby. Gaia may approve of our species as a whole, but she’s never given a damn for individual members of that species.”
“You flowered in the real world of Veritie,” said Luna, unexpectedly. “You made it your own. The greater powers and presences always preferred Mysterie.”
“Because they’re afraid of Humanity,” Hob said quickly. “Afraid of our potential, of what we might become.”
“That’s not true,” Gayle said heavily. “He lies, Toby. He always does. It’s his nature. Tell the truth for once, Hob, and shame yourself. You planned all this, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Hob. “I planned it all, every detail.”
“Why?” said Gayle. “Why did you want us here?”
“Direct and to the point, as always,” said Hob. “I’ve always admired that in you, Gaia. Dear Auntie. Never any messing about with you. Your answers to problems have always been very straightforward—an earthquake, a volcano, a plague. You’ve wiped out whole civilizations, in your time. Compared to you, I’m an amateur.” Hob leaned forward suddenly to glare at Gayle. “And you call me evil . . . my body count is nothing compared to yours.” He settled back in his chair and looked apologetically at Toby. “Sorry about that. I just find hypocrisy so
irritating
. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Everything I’ve done since my return here was planned with a single aim in mind: to bring you and Gayle here. Spreading rumors, planting information here and there, even my attack with the risen dead on the thunder godling’s home were all a ruse, to distract you from my true intentions and lure you here, into my parlor, my world. Blackacre, the one place where I have power, and Gaia does not.”
“Tell him why,” said Gayle. “Tell him about the terrible thing you did here, little monster.”
“I’ve always been very proud of what I achieved here, but then I’m biased, I suppose,” Hob said easily. “But no one else has ever torn a part of Gaia away from her and made it their own. It’s a unique achievement. Until now . . . But I’m getting ahead of myself. Long ago, Toby, I called to my father the Serpent, and he sent out a great and powerful solar flare. I called it down to this place, to this very spot, channelled it through me, and that supernaturally charged blast of heat scorched all life from this wood. All that was left were dead trees in a dead land. It became the one place on earth where Gaia no longer had any hold, or influence, or power, or access. Blackacre became my place, my world, where I could be safe at last. The view’s not up to much, but you can’t have everything.”
“He killed it all,” said Gayle. “Every living thing here, from the highest to the lowest. And now I am here, in this unnatural place; I’m isolated from the living world. I cannot become Gaia, or call on any of my power. Here, I’m only my human self. Small, limited, and very vulnerable—the perfect trap. And I walked right into it.”
“Exactly!” said Hob, clapping his hands together. “I knew your mighty pride, your ancient arrogance, wouldn’t let you see me or this place as a serious threat to such as you. You’ve been human too long, Gayle, forgotten too much.”
“No,” said Gayle. “That isn’t why I came here.”
Hob looked at her for a moment, and then shrugged. “No matter. I needed you here, and here you are. And you, Toby. You’re just as important to me. In fact, you’re much more important than they ever told you.”
“What about the others?” said Toby.
Hob shrugged. “Angel wanted Jimmy Thunder here. She’s a bit peeved with him. She wants to rip out his heart and eat it, and who am I to deny Angel her little pleasures? Luna’s presence was unexpected. Who knew she’d actually leave her wretched little bolt-hole after all these years? I haven’t had the pleasure of her august presence in the same room as myself since she abandoned me as a baby. And, it must be said, I had no wish ever to see her again, except at her funeral, perhaps. Still, what only son doesn’t want his mother to see the great things he’s achieved? To be awed, when he becomes so much more than she ever was? It’s fitting she should be here, in the moment of my greatest triumph. You will try to pay attention, won’t you, Mother dearest? I’d hate you to miss any of it. Ah, well—it’s not as if I need worry about your interfering.” Hob looked at Toby almost apologetically. “She’s still a Power, but much weakened by centuries of feeble-mindedness. Frankly I’m amazed she remembers who I am, or who she is.”
“I remember many things,” said Luna. “That’s always been my problem.” She looked at Hob sadly with her ice-blue eyes. “The Serpent raped me. Took me against my will, hurt me till I could no longer resist him, and then made me carry his seed. A metaphysical rape, but the horror was very real. Such was his power that I could not abort you, drive your unnatural presence from my body. And so I reduced myself to the human, gave birth to you in blood and suffering and inflicted you on Humanity. That was the Serpent’s curse, and my crime. Everything else since then has been your responsibility.”

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