He opened the door, grabbing me by the hand, and on I slid against myself. I nearly gasped when past-Vic let go of me and I found my bearings. William Corcoran stood there, in front of a mirror, preening himself, wearing a strangely-tressed wig. Half of his face was on the vanity table, and what was exposed was a morass of black twisted char, eyeball dangling loosely.
I tried not to scream.
“Oh, the little fly from earlier,” he said, and bits of his flesh peeled and flaked as he grinned. “I wondered about you. Let me guess. She heard about our plan, and came to you believing you were working for her employer.”
“That’s about the long and short of it,” past Vic said.
“How delightful. This little bird—so smart—and yet, she knows nothing. Perhaps we’ll give her a front row seat, don’t you think?”
“I think that would be great,” past Vic said.
“Good.” And then something blurred out towards me. I felt a blossoming, blooming pain, and the drip of something on my forehead, but the call of the void was beckoning to me, and I found myself passing out.
Chapter 10
The sound of the grandfather clock booming roused me from my stupor, and I rolled against my restraints. I was in a closet of some kind—the smell of old laundry wrapped around my face, bound to a chair through my arms and legs. My captors had given me a small closet space to see through, where electric lights shone through, and I blurrily tried to focus even as I struggled to get free. That same ugly blue pinecone wallpaper was still here.
“Alright, then,” Richard Tremblay was saying. I could see his brown suit, but that was it. “What’s all this about, then?”
“I have found just the thing to tend your woes,” William Corcoran’s high voice was saying. “A golden object which should ensure you and your beloved possessions should never part company. It’s called the Routshammer.” He said this in a guttural voice, as if intoning some kind of Germanic language.
Corcoran’s hands opened a box. There was a golden glow that bathed the wall behind Tremblay.
“My God, is this really it?” Tremblay asked.
“In the flesh, so to speak,” Corcoran said. “This is your ticket to an existence far greater than the one you have now. The Routshammer makes an inescapable bond between you and the world itself. No longer will you be bound by fear of death, my friend. Ever after, you will be granted the omnipotence of a god!”
“And you’re. You’re sure this would work? I have heard rumors of it. The Golden Quill…”
“It will work. Just as I have used this myself to weld my consciousness to my body, so you too can weld your consciousness to everything you own. Never again will you be parted from your wealth, from your things, or from your possessions.”
“It sounds like a devil’s bargain.”
“What price is the flesh for all the comforts you now own?”
“Is there a way to undo this?”
“Why would you want to?” Corcoran asked. “I myself have watched three centuries pass, and I grow ever fonder of that which I am bound to, though it plagues me in its own ways. One puncture. Simply slide the pinprick into your chest and pierce your heart. Retrieve it, and stab it into what you wish to keep forever. The two of you will be joined, ever after.”
“Will you help me?” Tremblay asked.
“I am afraid my hands are bound,” Corcoran said. “You, however, have the power. One small pinprick, and an eternity of consciousness to greet you. Any mortal’s one true chance at life ever-lasting.”
I struggled forward, lunging with my shoulder against the closet, and Tremblay’s hands shook as he swiveled.
“What is that?”
“Naught more than jitters,” Corcoran’s soothing voice said.
“And you agree with this? That this is ideal?” Tremblay asked past-Vic.
“I’ve tasted eternity, and find it very agreeable,” Vic said. “Corcoran is my Master, and though we’ve explored different means to avert the flow of the sands of time, I can’t say that he’s ever steered me wrong. I don’t believe he’d steer you wrong this evening.”
“And what do you ask of me, for this treasure?”
“Our terms,” Corcoran said. “Release the Widow Foster’s child from servitude. Sign over a portion of your riches to Master Alsace, and finalize the order to stop your Opium trade, for the Duke’s sake.”
“You would have no other payment? Such small things for the blessings of Divinity?”
