| "Goodbye, whoever you are," he whispered, and pulled the trigger. Or tried to. It wouldn't budge. Jammed! And then Roma glanced at him and Jack felt himself lifted through the air and slammed back against a palm trunk. The pain of the impact on his spine blew all the air out of him and blurred his vision for a few heartbeats. His knees turned to jelly and he slid earthward to end up sitting in the mud, propped against the palm. "Jack!" he heard his father cry from what seemed like the end of a long hallway. "Jack, are you all—?" Jack's vision cleared in time to see his father tumble back into the brush and disappear from view. He wanted to shout to him but his voice wouldn't work. Fear spiked his chest. Was Dad hurt? Was he even alive? Jack tried to get to his feet but couldn't move. For a panicky instant he thought he was paralyzed from a broken spine, then realized that something was holding him in place, something he couldn't see or feel but powerful enough to press on him so effectively that all he could do was breathe. He tried to shout to Roma but couldn't do even that. He was at Roma's mercy. But Roma didn't seem interested in him, didn't even glance toward Jack as he casually stepped onto the bank to stand not two feet away, facing Semelee. Semelee cringed back as he stared at her. "So," Roma said. Jack heard him clearly. The rain and wind seemed to be easing up, although lightning still flashed all around them. "You're the one who's trying to usurp my name."'' | ||
~ Gateways |
| The lamp above him winked out. Then the one to his right, thirty feet away, did the same. Then the one to his left. What the hell? Then the overheads on the FDR began dying, up and down the road. Some sort of power failure. So what? As he continued to stare across the water he saw a round shadow slowly rise on the far side of the railing. At first he thought it was a balloon, but as it continued to rise it broadened into a pair of shoulders, then arms straight down its sides. A man… a floating man. The languorous way it rose, without moving its arms… had to be a balloon, an inflatable doll. But when its feet reached the level of the top rung, it moved, stepping forward to stand on the railing. Then it crouched with its arms about its knees and perched there like some sort of gargoyle. Jack couldn't see the face, but he knew its eyes were fixed on him. "What the—?" "Hello, Heir," it said in a mocking tone. "How's life?" Jack knew that voice. Rasalom. With a howl he went to leap off the seat and wrap his fingers around the throat that housed it. And if the two of them tumbled to the river below, so be it. He'd go to his grave strangling this son of a bitch. But he never left the seat. He could move his arms, but not his feet or his legs. His body wouldn't budge. He clawed the air and howled again, sounding like a madman. At that moment he was. Rasalom put his head back and sniffed the air. "Mmm. The nectar of desolation, the liquor of devastation, the elixir of despair, the wine of disheartenment. This is a fine, fine vintage. If only I could bottle it."'' | ||
~ Harbingers |
