Wilder (15 page)

Chapter 27

L
inda Gómez had always considered herself lucky. She was very pretty, which made men admire her, and she was very smart, which meant that if she wanted something from a man, all she had to do was smile at him, flatter him, behave as if he were handsome and young and clever. It worked every time, and she’d built a good life for herself with the proceeds.

Her first two husbands had paid for her education as an investment banker, and she’d received enough in the divorces to keep herself in the style she preferred.

The third husband had been a mistake; when he disappeared, he cleaned out her bank account and broke her heart. But like a miracle, this job had come along. . . .

She’d worked for Osgood for three years now, and all she could say was, he was amazing. The man understood money and power and how to accumulate both. It was a pleasure to watch him operate, and the first time she realized he would do anything to get his way, she had felt a kinship—and at the same time a little shiver of fear, because . . . he really would do anything to get his way.

He made her uneasy, with his pale skin and slight body, and those unreadable hazel eyes that seemed to change color: brown to green to the most frightening blue glow, although she told herself the blue glow was an illusion of the light. She was determined to believe that.

She thought sometimes that he would want to sleep with her, and she thought she would do it. But when he put his hands on her shoulders, or touched her hand to emphasize his point, she froze in fear.

His flesh felt old, soft, flaccid, cool . . . terrifying, as if only the thickness of his skin protected the world from the accretion of cruelty and evil.

Osgood knew he frightened her. He knew she recoiled when near him. And he didn’t seem to care, except . . . she thought he smiled inside, and bided his time.

Now she sat in the sunshine, outside on a park bench, and ate her lunch with Burke Brennan, one of the researchers in the ancient sciences division. He was droning on, as he usually did, about his latest discovery and how cool it was that he worked for Osgood, the only wealthy person in the world who understood the necessity of preserving the world’s treasures before they were lost forever—

“Yes,” she blurted, “but don’t you ever wonder if we’re stuck?” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to clap her hands over her mouth.

She hadn’t even realized she’d been thinking that, and now she’d said it. Out here. In the open. Where anyone could hear. She looked around fearfully to see whether anyone had heard her, and then up at Osgood’s office building, looming against the horizon.

“What?” Burke looked confused and annoyed that she’d interrupted him.

No one had heard her except Burke. And he was a good guy, a lowly guy, not at all in the confidence of the upper levels of the organization.

Good thing. Not that Osgood would care what she said, but . . . he was a man who valued loyalty, and took any attempt to defect to a different organization coldly.

“Linda? What are you talking about?”

She ate a couple of bites of her Asian chicken salad and tried to figure out the best way to explain so Burke, not the most sensitive of guys, would understand. “I mean, it seems as if I never leave Osgood’s shadow.” She shouldn’t be saying this. She really shouldn’t be saying this. She knew better. But once she got started, it was as if the dam had broken and the words had to tumble out. “I live in an apartment Osgood owns.”

“Me, too, but it’s so close, and he gives me such a good deal, it’s no hardship.”

“Exactly. To live anywhere else would be foolish. I eat in his restaurants.”

“The food is good, the service is excellent, and the prices are reasonable.”

“Yes. I buy my groceries at his grocery store.”

“Is Buster’s owned by Osgood? I didn’t know that. Great store, though.”

“Great store.” She supposed she was being foolish.

Clearly Burke thought she was foolish.

She played with her fork. “And Osgood bought all the land around his building, and tore down a bunch of historical sites to make this park.” She gestured around at the trees and the lawn, the picnic benches and the fire pits.

“It’s for us. For his workers.” Burke seemed to think she didn’t realize what a great guy Osgood was. “So we would have someplace to come to relax. All of us work hard for Osgood, and it’s good of him to care.”

“Yes.” She stared at what was now the tallest building in New York City, and she wanted to vomit. Osgood Headquarters was plain stark stone, almost obscenely, sickly white, without windows on the bottom floors, and only a few on the floors above. From this distance, when she stared at it, it looked like a prison tower that captured workers and held them within. While the other tall buildings in New York were frequently covered in clouds, the prison never was. It rose into a patch of clear blue sky . . . but above it, the sky was deeper, darker blue, as if the building stole pieces of heaven to create a more impressive backdrop for its pale stone.

In appearance, it seemed to be an insolent gesture to the cold, far heavens.

As Linda watched, she noted masses of small, hunched, bug-eyed creatures that clung to the side of the building and stared out at the city. They circled the building at about the fortieth floor, and she laughed when she saw them. “I didn’t know we had gargoyles on the building.”

“What?” Burke followed her pointing finger. “Oh, yeah. Not the cute Disney ones, either, but real gargoyles, all bug eyes and lolling tongues. Grotesque. I’ll bet they’re patterned after Notre Dame or Saint-Étienne de Meaux.”

“Those are cathedrals, right?” Linda used to be a practicing Catholic. “I should go to France and tour the cathedrals.”

“Good idea. I was going to say that maybe you should take a vacation.”

She could light candles and say a prayer for her own soul.

“I was going to suggest that you take a few mental health days, visit one of Osgood’s resorts. . . .”

She whipped her head around and glared.

He was an idiot, incapable of foresight or imagination.

“I seem to remember that churches offer sanctuary from evil.” She wanted someplace safe to flee. Not that she needed to flee. Not that Osgood would pursue her if she did. She simply had this feeling that someone was watching her all the time.

“Yes, for all the good that ever did the poor pilgrims.”

“What?”

“Churches might offer sanctuary from evil in its spiritual form, but they’re no match for real people with evil intentions. Do you know how many people were slaughtered in churches by the Vikings? They weren’t Christians; they didn’t know the rules, or care either.” Burke was just getting warmed up. “Then we have Henry the Second’s knights, who pursued Thomas Becket into Canterbury Cathedral to kill him most gruesomely. They cut off the top of his head and scattered his brains all over the floor.”

Linda stared at the ground chicken on her lettuce leaves and felt light-headed.

“And let’s not forget what happened to the nuns who were raped and slaughtered in . . .” Burke’s voice trailed off. “Wow, look at that. That is a really cool animation.”

“What?” She glanced at Osgood Headquarters, then at Burke. Then she whipped her head around to stare hard at the building.

The gargoyles were climbing the sheer stone face of the rock, straight up toward the top. They scuttled like cockroaches, their long arms reaching ahead, their hands attaching to the stone as if they had suction cups for fingers.

“It’s like the Haunted Mansion,” Burke said, “all scary-cool illusion. I am
im
pressed.”

The gargoyle who lingered behind turned to look over its shoulder, and Linda saw a swift, avid, bright blue gleam in its eyes. For one moment, those eyes fixed on Linda in malicious humor—and hunger. Then the creature looked toward the top of the building and climbed, ascending rapidly up the vertical wall, all the way up until the tiny figure vanished onto the roof and out of sight.

Numb with shock and horror, Linda dropped her fork.

It clattered onto the bench, then onto the concrete.

“Are you okay?” Burke looked at her in concern.

He was so stupid. Ridiculously, absurdly stupid, blindly determined to see what he wanted to see.

“An animation? Are you
crazy
?”

“Of course. What else would it be? I mean, gargoyles aren’t
real
.”

She stood. “I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to get out.”

“Of where? You’re not in anything.”

She looked at the simpleminded fool. She couldn’t stand him. She couldn’t stand this place. She couldn’t go back to her office. She couldn’t look at Osgood and pretend she didn’t know who and what he was.

Turning her back to the building, she started to walk to the edge of the park.

“Where are you going?” Burke called.

To her apartment. To pack up her things.

The creepy sensation of being watched made her shiver. She glanced behind her, up toward the top of the building.

Again she thought she saw the blue gleam.

She broke into a run.

No, not her apartment. She could never go back there again. She had a credit card. And she could stop and get money. She could get away. Get out of New York. Out from under Osgood’s influence.

She only hoped, for the sake of her eternal soul, that it wasn’t too late.

Chapter 28

A
t the top of his building, Osgood greeted his favorite little demons. “You grow strong,” he said. “The daylight doesn’t hurt you.”

“By your grace, master, we eat well.” Ipos scurried toward Osgood, but stopped just out of reach.

Foolish Ipos feared Osgood would hurt him . . . as if Osgood needed to touch him to hurt him. “Have you frightened them, the homeless, the crazed, the people who roam the night?” As always, Osgood kept his voice soft and bland. “Are they whispering of the creatures who attack and leave nothing but a few bones?”

“They are frightened, master. They speak of the bones.” Ipos’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he remembered the taste of soft flesh.

How easily the fool fell into Osgood’s trap. Osgood lifted his hand, and with malevolent intent he squeezed his age-spotted hand into a fist.

Ipos gagged. He clawed at his throat. His tongue stuck out straight as an arrow. His scarred, hideous, scaly face turned purple.

“Bones. You leave only bones.” Osgood looked around at the crowd of demons. “And what did I tell you?” He pointed at Nergal.

Nergal clasped his long-fingered hands before his chest in supplication. “That we should leave blood and flesh that has been rent and torn.”

“What else?” Osgood pointed at Raum.

“That we should leave faces, so all could see the terror and know fear.”

“And do you do these things?” Osgood asked.

Ipos’s huge frog eyes bulged as he died.

The other demons chattered, scattered across the roof, and cowered.

“Do you?” Osgood asked. He kept his voice quiet, but all of them recognized the danger that stalked them. With a gesture, he could clear the roof. With another gesture, he could bring up their replacements from hell.

Nergal prostrated himself on the ground. “We do now. We will do as you tell us in every matter.”

“Very good.” Osgood compelled each demon to meet his gaze.

Each shivered and moaned.

“Then you all may live,” he told them.

“Thank you, master.” The chorus of squeaky little voices grated on his nerves.

Yet he quite enjoyed unlimited power.

With my permission.
The voice spoke in Osgood’s head. It was that other being entwined with his soul, the Evil One, the Dark Prince, the devil himself. Osgood had proved himself worthy of their union; now they were one.

But Lucifer liked Osgood to know who allowed him to hold the power.

Osgood could scarcely forget.

He dropped Ipos’s already decaying body. “Nergal, you’re the leader of my guard.”

“Thank you, master.” Nergal crawled over and tried to kiss Osgood’s brown leather oxfords.

“Get rid of that thing,” Osgood ordered.

Nergal looked at Ipos, then up at Osgood. “I do not eat in front of the master.”

With ill-concealed irritation, Osgood said, “Drop him off the edge.”

“Yes. I knew that.” Nergal hoisted Ipos onto his broad shoulders, took him to the balustrade, and hoisted him over.

The other demons ran, chattering, to watch.

Osgood knew what they saw: the falling body turning to sparks and flames, and disintegrating into oblivion.

No matter. He could always make more demons. Lost souls he owned in plenty.

He called his demons back. “How are my dear little Chosen Ones doing?”

“The Chosen Ones have run away. Five of them. Left the country.” Nergal snorted moistly. “As if they will escape us.”

Osgood wasn’t so stupid as to imagine the Chosen Ones had fled.

They were up to something.

“Where have they gone?” he asked.

“They went to the airport. Pardon, master. I can’t read. I couldn’t go in. . . .” Whining. Nergal was whining.

“What did they say to one another?”

“They watch for us. We can’t get into Irving’s mansion. It’s protected.” More whining.

Osgood had never liked Nergal. “I like to be kept abreast of their movements. It entertains me. Perhaps you can recruit a human to do your bidding.”

“Recruit?” Nergal nervously rubbed his spatulate fingers together.

With formidable patience, Osgood said, “Explain to the human that if the human does what you tell it to do, you won’t eat it . . . yet.”

Nergal’s eyes lit up. “But I like to eat humans.”

Osgood leaned down.

Nergal scrambled back.

“I chose you to be the head of my troops for a reason,” Osgood said. “Because you’re smarter than the others.”

“I am. I am.”

“Don’t make me throw you off the building, too.”

“No, master, no. We’ll recruit a human. We will.”

Raum tugged at Nergal’s long earlobe. “Can’t we use the human we already have?”

Nergal snapped at Raum, his sharp teeth removing the end of Raum’s finger.

Raum attacked, and the two demons rolled across the roof, kicking and squealing, until Osgood picked them both up by the napes of their necks.

At once, they went limp.

He shook them. “You already have a human who spies for you?”

“Yes, master,” Raum said.

With a flick of his wrist, Osgood flung Nergal over the edge of the building. “Very good, Raum. You are leader now.”

A sly gleam lit Raum’s eye. “Thank you, master. You have made a good choice.”

Osgood thought perhaps he had. He dropped Raum back on the concrete floor. Pulling out his handkerchief, he wiped his fingers. “What about dear Charisma? Did she suffer before she died?” He felt a special grudge toward Charisma. She had managed to be so cheerful in the face of every adversity.

“She’s still alive,” Raum answered boldly, as if he were not afraid.

“Still alive.” Osgood stroked his chin. “How is that possible? Must be the Chosen’s natural immunity. How did dear Charisma escape you?”

Raum scuffled his feet. “I’m sorry, master. Must be the Chosen’s natural immunity.”

Ah
. A demon who tried to be clever. “What”—Osgood smiled with cruel intensity—“does
natural immunity
mean?”

Raum made a humming noise as he tried to guess. “That she can fly?”

Osgood prepared to destroy him in some new and marvelous way.

“It doesn’t matter, master.” Raum spoke with absolute certainty. “All that has done is give dear Charisma another few days or weeks before death inevitably takes her away.”

Osgood experienced a surge of affection for the little demon. He had such an optimistic outlook. “True. Let’s drag out her torment a little longer.”

He turned toward the door that led to the elevator going directly to his office.

Raum continued to speak so soothingly, for a very long moment Osgood didn’t realize what he meant. “Even though she is in her last days, she does not battle us. She lives with the Guardian. She loves the Guardian. And—”

Osgood swiveled on his heel.
“What?”

“Dear Charisma lives with the Guardian in the Guardian cave. Just the two of them. Together. Our human recruit has seen to it that they spend time in . . . romance.” Raum thumped his fists together. “He does not come out to do battle all the time. She stays within the cave. They . . . romance.” He thumped his fists again.

“You stupid fool. Separate them.
Separate them!
” Osgood’s voice rose to a shriek.

Two of the demons jumped off the roof.

Osgood surveyed the remaining crew. He wanted to kill them. Rend them limb from limb.

Only one prophecy stood in the way of his ultimate reign over the earth and all its minions, a horrible foretelling only he knew.

Three years ago, he had craftily obstructed its fulfillment, and again twenty months ago. Now his own creatures told him they had facilitated bringing that prophecy to reality.

Raum backed up toward the concrete balustrade. “Yes, master. The human recruit suggested this method to keep the Chosen One and Guardian out of the way as you complete the conquest of the world. The human recruit is stupid and lowly.”

Osgood paced slowly toward him.

Raum spit on the ground beside him to demonstrate his contempt for the stupid human. “We, the demons, will attack the Guardian cave—”

In protest, the remaining demons hummed and squawked, then fell silent under Osgood’s glare. He said, “You cannot attack the Guardian cave until the conquest is complete. It is . . . protected.” And nothing he could do would change that until the Chosen Ones had lost the final battle.

In the tone of a creature eager to please and be spared the wrath of his master, Raum said, “Then I will instruct the human recruit to separate the Guardian and the Chosen One by whatever means possible. It will be done as you wish, master.”

“See that it is.” Osgood looked out over New York City. His city. His.

His far-reaching gaze lit on Linda. Linda
Gómez
. She was running away from his building, glancing over her shoulder as if she were in a panic. “What is wrong with my employee?” he asked.

Raum seemed to anticipate Osgood’s question. “She saw us climbing the building.”

“Did she?” Osgood was angry. He was displeased. He was . . . worried. “My children! You have done so much work today. Are you not hungry?”

Raum moaned softly and rubbed his strong, pudgy hands together. “Always hungry. Always hungry.”

“You can have her. Take her. Eat her.” Osgood looked around at the creatures that hopped and clapped at his feet. “And what instructions did I give you?”

The demons looked confused.

But Raum was crafty. Fire and pain honed his mind with malice. “Leave blood and flesh that has been rent and torn. Leave her face, so all can see the terror and know fear. We will do as you instruct, master. We will leave parts.”

“Very good,” Osgood said. “Make her suffer.”