The Night Market (21 page)

“Very well,” he agreed mildly, pausing to take a sip.
“I had hoped to start our relationship off on more amiable footing...”

Yael raised her cup, then paused just as the rim
touched her lips. She cradled the cup carefully in both hands as she set it
down and then pushed it across the table.

“Switch with me.”

Nyarlathotep paused momentarily, evaluating her,
before he nodded and acquiesced, whether impressed or annoyed by her caution,
Yael couldn’t tell.

Yael sipped hesitantly from the new cup, careful to
avoid the side that his lips had touched. He hadn’t lied about the tea. Her
equilibrium returned before the liquid made it to her stomach, radiating out from
her throat with a warm throb that flushed her skin. Her disorientation faded
rapidly. The room, while dark, smoky and filled with bizarre hangings, was
nothing more than a room. If Yael strained she could hear the sound of the
train’s tortured progress across the tracks, but it seemed a world away.

“Are you feeling better? Good, then we can talk.”

“I’m still not certain what we might have to discuss,”
Yael said tartly. “I already have a God, thank you very much.”

“You are spirited. Your brother said as much when we
first met. He was as reluctant to speak to me as you are now.”

Some of her composure eroded at the mention of her
brother, though Yael knew that was Nyarlathotep’s intention. His eyes laughed
at her across the rim of his tea cup.

“What could the two of you have had to talk about?”

“The same thing I wish to discuss with you,”
Nyarlathotep said pleasantly, smiling amiably at Yael. “You would oppose the
King in Yellow. I wish to aid you in this endeavor.”

Yael’s jaw dropped, much to Nyarlathotep’s evident
amusement.

“Are you truly so surprised? You are far beyond the
pale, Miss Yael, beyond the safety and the restrictions of the world you knew.
Did you think you could elude notice forever with your brother’s key and the
help of your rather motley companions?”

“I suppose not,” Yael conceded, wincing when he
mentioned the key. “But my understanding was that most of the Old Ones
preferred to act indirectly, through intermediaries.”

Nyarlathotep nodded pleasantly, finishing his tea with
a contented expression.

“That is true. I am the exception to that rule.”

“Very well. What has you in such a giving mood?”

“I am concerned with your journey, Miss Kaufman. You
do realize that simply by making it this far, you and Miss Frost have profoundly
upset the natural order of things, don’t you?”

“Oh, dear. Have we?”

Yael did her best to feign innocence. Honestly, she
felt she deserved a medal for attempting to sass an Elder Horror.

“You have indeed,” Nyarlathotep said with a smile.
“And I mean that as a compliment. The two of you have become thorns in a
remarkable number of sides. Most especially for the King in Yellow. You know
what was promised to him, by your ancestors, yes?”

“Why isn’t Je – Miss Frost here? Why only talk to me?”

For the first time, his expression soured, the
beautiful face twisted with rage.

“Why would I strike a deal with something like Miss
Frost? Oh, she is dangerous, I will give you that. But she is something far less
than human. Admiring her survival is akin to admiring the tenacity of the rat. She
lacks the nobility of your motivations.”

Yael shook her head.

“You shouldn’t say bad things about rats.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I was helped by a rat when I was lost in a dark place.
They are actually quite nice if you share your egg salad with them.”

“My dear, I haven’t the faintest idea what you are
talking about.”

“I am not your ‘dear’. I’m not anything to you but an
enemy. Now tell me your offer, so that I may refuse it.”

His smile broadened, and Yael felt the ghost of her
early motion sickness, a ringing in her ears like a distant wail.

“I’m glad you plan on giving me a fair hearing. Very
well. Pleasantries aside, Miss Kaufman, I know where your brother is presently.
And I know how to reunite you with him.”

Yael’s smile was bitter.

“And what must I do in return?”

“Well, you will never be able to return to your home,
of course, but I trust that it is only a minor inconvenience. Simply take my
hand,” he said, lazily extending one perfectly formed hand to her, “and I will
take you to your brother, for a tearful reunion between siblings. Think of it.
Your journey would end in triumph.”

Maybe it was the tea. Maybe it was the fond way he
mentioned her brother, as if he were someone he knew, an old friend, that got
to her. Whatever the case, when Yael smiled it was with the confidence of a
gambler holding a winning hand.

“What a positively generous offer.”

“Do you accept, then?”

Nyarlathotep scratched absently at his neck with his
other hand, leaving red streaks on his skin. His eyes wandered briefly, tracking
the erratic movements of something above her head and behind her.

“Tell me,” Yael suggested, brushing her hair behind
her ears and leaning forward so he could see her clearly in the smoky
half-light, “do you think that I am stupid?”

Nyarlathotep shook his head in disbelief and withdrew
his offered hand.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you should be, but you probably aren’t.”

He tried for his smile, but it came out all wrong. The
muscles in his perfect face were rebelling one after another.

“I must confess, Miss Kaufman, that I have not met
another quite like you. Those who are aware of my true nature often regard me
with a certain... apprehension. Only the truly ignorant scoff at me. Given who
your brother was...”

Yael stiffened with outrage.

“Do not dare question the caliber of my education,”
Yael said archly. “It was of the finest quality. I know you and your many
names, your service to the Outer Dark – I know more than I care to.”

Nyarlathotep swayed gently, whether to the sound of
the hideous piping or to the almost hidden motion of the train, she couldn’t be
certain.

“And you are not afraid?”

“Of course I am. I am scared of any number of things.
I don’t care much for spiders – can’t stand them, actually – but if there isn’t
anyone else around, I still have to take care of them.”

“Are you comparing me to a household pest?”

“No. That would be a bad comparison. Spiders serve a
purpose, creepy though they may be. You don’t serve anything besides the Outer
Dark.”

One of his eyelids drifted slowly down, only to arrest
halfway and snap back open. The other eye remained unaffected. Nyarlathotep appeared
oblivious.

“I assume you are refusing my offer?”

“Of course,” Yael scoffed. “I know perfectly well
where my brother is. He warned me of the potential consequences of his research
when I was eight years old. He tried to outwit the King in Yellow, most likely
by enlisting your help, and he failed. He was taken to Avici, the rotten core
of the universe, where mad Azazoth dwells. There is no retrieving him. Not
ever.”

Nyarlathotep seemed partially consumed with studying
his swollen fingers.

“I don’t understand. If you don’t seek the return of
your brother, what is your purpose in all this?”

“That is why you will not be able to stop me,” Yael
said, standing triumphantly. “Because you don’t even know what it is that I want.”

Nyarlathotep poked at his enflamed lymph nodes and
cheeks, ran his fingers across his bloated neck. His skin had begun to purple
at the extremities.

“Miss Kaufman,” Nyarlathotep hissed through swollen
lips and spittle. “What have you done to me?”

“You tried to trick me into consigning myself to the
same hell to which I lost my brother. I simply returned the favor of your
hospitality.”

One of his eyes locked onto her, the other twitching
as if in sleep. His face had started to puff up, swelling with blood.

“The tea? A poison? Foolish child. Nothing can kill
me. And this is no more than an avatar. My true form is elsewhere.”

“I know that,” Yael gloated, knocking his tiny tea cup
over as she stood. “It’s not a poison, it’s a drug. In any case, I am perfectly
aware that it won’t kill you. But it can incapacitate you long enough for me to
finish my train ride in peace, yes?”

“This is folly, girl! Madness!”

“It is neither,” Yael said boldly, glaring at him with
withering contempt. “It is a declaration of war. I will oppose you and the
whole of the Outer Dark.”

She didn’t know where the words came from, but they
sounded right, so she was grateful. He might have said something more, but it
was unintelligible and she was already headed for the door, her heart racing
and her legs shaking so powerfully that she worried they wouldn’t hold her up
long enough for her to make it out of the car, passing otherworldly eyes in the
shadow.

***

“Impossible. The chances...”

“Outcome renders chance irrelevant.”

Autumn has come to her parent’s
estate and the air is saturated with the smell of burning leaves, as the garden
staff struggles to control acres of ancient maple. Later, she will jump in the
piles that indulgent servants arrange for her, carefully fishing out errant sticks
before they let her leap into the crackling leaves, as brilliant as if she were
jumping into fire.

Camping under the unreal stars of the
Waste, exposed and predatory. She cannot sleep, but when she sits up, the fire
has gone cold and Jenny has disappeared. In her place, Fenrir sits with his
eyes livid with laughter and unspeakable, sensual malice.

Watching a log burn in the great
fireplace in her father’s library, a room that she has never actually seen her
father visit. Her brother is reading at the big desk, but she prefers the deep
purple animal skin by the fire, soft as silk, tickling her bare legs when she
changes position. She turns the book over and over again, but the words remain
unreadable no matter what she does.

Picking gravel out of a scraped knee,
watching her hopelessly bent bicycle tire rotate slowly with the dwindling
momentum of her fall.

“The consequences...”

A compass that will not point north,
regardless of the direction she faces.

An empty zoo, the cages leering at
her as she wanders silent pathways, acutely aware of the noise of her
footsteps.

Finding Elian in the storm drains
beneath the old city by the smell of his horrid cigars, his oddly shy smile and
the constant threat of violence from his presence, making her aware of him in a
way that she had never been with a boy previously. She is happy to see him and was
sure to put on eyeliner and touch-up her nail polish, with the same care that
she readied the can of mace in her front pocket. The outlines of his rangy
torso underneath a cartoon t-shirt that is far too large, and a funny feeling
in her stomach.

She is chewing gum, but her mouth is
too full. If she swallows, she will choke, so instead she grinds her teeth
together, like trying to bite through a wad of cotton.

Watching the sunset from the roof,
sitting on the railing of the widow’s walk with her brother’s hand resting
lightly on the top of her freckled back. His name so close that she turned to
him to speak.

“And the consequences of inaction?”

***

Yael woke with a maddening urge to sneeze and Tobi curled, purring on her
chest, his tail tickling her nose. Something about the cabin was wrong,
unsettling. It took a moment to place it.

“Jenny,” she exclaimed, setting the sleepy and
resentful cat aside so she could lean down to the bunk beneath her. “The train
is slowing down. We are here! The city! We made it!”

“Any other way you wanna point out the obvious?” Jenny
sat up and stretched; casually tearing away whatever bandages didn’t rip apart
in the process. “We started slowing down an hour ago.”

“Oh. Fine, then.”

Yael hopped down from her bunk and trotted to the
adjoining bathroom. A quick wash of her face and brush of her teeth later,
along with a change of socks and underwear, and she felt ready to face whatever
the day brought. She was still apprehensive, but at least she felt more or less
clean. When she came back in the room, Jenny was pulling her sweatshirt on with
obvious pain and difficulty, while Tobi paced restlessly from one side of the
windowsill to the other.

“How close are we, Tobi?”

“We are approaching the tunnel now. The city is on the
other side of the mountain. Five minutes, no more.”

The train abruptly plunged into darkness, lit only by
the feeble gas lamps. Jenny grimaced as she worked her head out of her battered
red hoodie. Yael noticed the blood on the hand that had been partially
bisected, clucked her tongue in disapproval and grabbed the first aid kit from
off the table.