The Cypher (8 page)

“It’s the only way, monsieur.”

The Grotesque pulled out something from the trunk and then slammed it shut. Thomas heard the car creaking as Henri climbed on top.

“You might want to get out of the car, Thomas. In case the roof buckles,” Bolswaithe said as he braced the roof of the car with his arms. Henri’s clawed fingers went through the metal above his head and Thomas raced out of the car in a hurry.

“This is embarrassing,” Henri said as he struck a pose over the roof of the car and unfurled a red and white flag with a picture of a can and the words
“Spiftzer! Strong like a Rock!”

“An energy drink?” Thomas contained a laugh. “That’s your disguise. An ad?”

Bolswaithe spoke from inside the car. “Spiftzer belongs to a Guardians Inc. satellite company. Dr. Franco uses cross-marketing whenever he can.”

Thomas laughed and Henri glared at him. Thomas stopped laughing and approached the car. “I want to thank you for saving my life the other day.”

“You’re welcome,” Henri said.

“I was there too. I took care of the Voraxglobum.” The Grotesque on the other column turned his head. “I’m Jean Luc.”

“Thank you, too.” Thomas said. “You guys are great. All of you guys are great!” he yelled at the other Grotesques along the brick wall and the mansion’s roof. Most of them turned their heads and nodded back. Even the ones by the highest chimneys were alive. It would really take an army to go through the mansion’s security guards.

***

“I think it’s safe now,” Bolswaithe said. Thomas noted how the butler omitted saying his name and “sir.” He might be a robot, but he learned fast. Bolswaithe accelerated.

“We’re not going to Brooklyn, are we?” Henri half closed his eyes as the car gained speed, his claw tightened on the little car’s roof causing the metal to groan.

“We are going to the Ramble at Central Park,” Bolswaithe yelled through the window.

“Take Columbus Avenue and then West 74
^th
.”

“I know, monsieur.”

“Are we driving to New York? That’s on the other side of the country.” Thomas was confused.

“We’re already there.” Bolswaithe turned left at the corner of the private road, and instead of coming out two blocks away from Thomas’s house in Carlsbad, they entered the busy streets of New York City. The little red car swerved easily through traffic and only a couple of people took more than a passing glance at Henri.

Thomas opened his window and peeked out. The skyscrapers were real and the streetlights were just turning on. He checked his watch as the clock automatically jumped three time zones. Even the air smelled different than in California. He looked back; they had apparently come out from an alley between two buildings, the green street sign said, “Pervagus Road.”

“How’s this possible?” Thomas asked Bolswaithe. “It has to be magic.”

“It was magic decades ago. It has more to do with quantum mechanics now than with magic. Would you like me to tell you some of the equations?”

Thomas raised his arms in amazement. “No thanks, I believe you,” he said. After everything he’d already seen, there were always more surprises about Guardians Inc.

“Just remember that Pervagus Mansion is always two-and-a-half blocks to the left for those that want to find it and have the appropriate tag,” Bolswaithe said as he sped toward Central Park.

The First Sign

They entered Central Park through Transverse Road, and Bolswaithe turned right on a service road and into the most forested area of the park.

“There’s our escort,” he told Thomas. Five men and a young woman were waiting at the end of the road. They were dressed in jeans, black leather jackets, and yellow T-Shirts with the logo of Guardians Inc. prominently displayed on the front. Each person carried a light-rifle, and two carried a black tote bag over their shoulder.

Bolswaithe parked the car and they got out. Henri waited for them before climbing down with a powerful thrust.

The leader of the escorts looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had a dark five o’clock shadow and twiddled a little yellow cocktail sword in his mouth. A small earring in his left ear and vivacious dark eyes complemented a cheerful smile as he tipped his NY Yankees baseball cap at them. “Est que vous Henri? Comment Ça va mon ami? Comment Ça va!” He sidestepped Bolswaithe and Thomas and gave the Grotesque a high five. “Ce qui vous amène ici? Brooklyn un autre?”

Henri let out a deep chuckle. “Stobene il mio amico, ma non Brooklyn.” Henri answered motioning with his claws at Thomas. “Sto avendo cura di queste pesone, è molto importante per la società, sapete? Questo è il Cypher.”

At least Thomas understood the last word.

“He doesn’t speak French or Italian gentlemen.” Bolswaithe interrupted their little reunion and they both turned to Thomas.

“I thought Cyphers could understand any language,” the man in the Yankees hat said.

“Anything written,” Thomas answered.

“Ahh, I see… my bad.” He pulled the little yellow cocktail sword out of his mouth and hunched his shoulders. “I always imagined that the Cypher would be an old wrinkled man, or a hot, hot girl,” he said with a thick New York accent and extended a hand toward Thomas. He had such a carefree attitude that Thomas immediately liked him.

Thomas took his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Thomas.”

“I’m Tony Della Francesca,” he said nodding toward his group. “Vani, Piero, the pretty lady with the sawed-off shotgun under her forearm is Bella.” Bella clicked her mouth and leveled her arm at them letting them glimpse the two holes of a twin shotgun inside her jacket sleeve.

“And these two guys over here,” Tony said as he walked toward the two remaining men who rolled their eyes as he approached, “are brothers. I’ll bet you five bucks that you can guess the name of one of them if I give you one clue.”

“Andiamo Tony, gia abbastanza!” one of the men said.

“He’s a Cypher! It’s a little field test, and you both shook on the bet, for life,” Tony scolded them.

“We were drunk, Tony,” the other grumbled. “And it got old three years ago.”

“Tatatata,” Tony shushed him. “Ten bucks, kid. What do you say?”

“Sure,” Thomas answered. “What’s the clue?”

The two men pulled out ten-dollar bills from their pockets with a dissatisfied grunt.

“This big guy’s name,” Tony said tightening his grip around the man’s shoulder, “is Luigi.”

Thomas let out a chuckle. “So you must be Mario, right?”

Tony clapped and snatched the bills from their hands and immediately gave one to Thomas. “See boys? He’s really a Cypher!” Tony then led Thomas by the shoulder. “We are the Central Park watchmen. We keep humans and Mashcrits on their own side of the fence.”

“Mashcrits?” Thomas asked.

“Magical Critters, but don’t let them catch you saying that. They hate it. Piero!” He nodded and the lean man threw a couple of yellow T-Shirts at them. On the front of the T-shirts was the stylized Egyptian eye logo of Guardians Inc. “Neighborhood Watch” printed in bold letters on the back.

“The company set up a police permit to let us roam Central Park at night with our flashlights. We’ve caught some real weird Mashcrits and a couple of human thieves too.” He led them through the park.

“This looks like a forest,” Thomas said in awe. The trail they followed through the park entered through very thick vegetation.

“Designed to look like one by Olmsted and Vaux since 1858,” Tony said, “with help from the chief of the fauns, Husseha, himself. This is the Ramble. We have the Great Lawn on the other side of the road and The Lake to the south. Here the Mashcrits can go out at night and have their fun. I prefer the East Meadow myself.”

“And how big is this place?” Thomas pushed away a branch that almost whiplashed him as Tony walked by it.

“The whole thing is almost 850 acres. The Ramble is just 38, but it’s like a forest isn’t it?”

“Sure is.”

“That’s how the Mashcrits want it. It gives them the chance to hide or run away if someone approaches.”

“And how many… Mashcrits do you have here?” Thomas couldn’t resist asking.

“Well, we deal with three basic Mashcrits types in Central Park. There are the Fauns that own the place, the Fae that come and go with the seasons, and the Drifters, some of whom we have to convince the hard way to leave.” He pointed with his thumb at Henri. “Big guy here knows about Drifters. Don’tcha?”

“Werewolves in Brooklyn,” Henri said from behind them.

“They still haven’t fixed that place you brought down.” Tony gave the grotesque thumbs up. “Classic Henri.”

“Lots of fun.” Henri chuckled. “Is Tinamra still mad?”

“Oh yea, that lady wants to clip wings badly. Anyway,” Tony continued, “we have an understanding with Husseha, Chief of the Fauns. So when his sons began to act up, he called us, we checked out what was happening, and then we called you.”

“So what exactly happened?” Thomas asked. They’d left an established path and were now walking toward a formation of rock over a small hill. The forest grew thicker around the hill and they had to use both hands to get through the vegetation. It was as if the plants themselves resisted their passing.

“That’s what you’re here to find out, kid.” Tony tapped the rock using a gnarly twig he pulled from his pocket, and the rock opened up forming a tunnel for them to walk through. “Let’s go. Bella, keep watch,” Tony said as Thomas, Henri, and Bolswaithe entered the tunnel.

Thomas felt like he was on the inside of a mole’s tunnel. The tunnel had been dug out by hand, or claw, and half-chewed roots sprouted from between the scrape marks on the walls. Rope lights ran along the sides and center of the ceiling.

After a short trek, they arrived at a circular door guarded by two creatures in armor. Thomas could see two slender furry legs ending in hooves under their metal armor. Their helmets, however, were completely closed and antlers protruded from the back of them. They had slender arms with four fingers instead of five, and they carried a lance with ribbons tied under the blade.

Tony spoke in a strange language, and the guard on the left responded in a shrilly voice. Tony pointed at Thomas and then at Henri as he spoke and he seemed to be slightly angry.

The Fauns answered with a couple of short words, snorts, and crossed their lances over the door. Tony nodded and turned to Thomas.

“We can go in,” he said looking at Bolswaithe and Thomas, “but Henri has to wait out here. They claim that half-breeds will pollute their flux well.”

Henri cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. Whatever half-breed meant had really angered him.

“I’ll be here,” Henri said and crouched on the ground, transforming into the smaller immobile statue that he usually adopted when he was at the entrance of the mansion.

The Fauns uncrossed their lances and the inner door opened revealing a cave full of small clay buildings and fluorescent vegetation. Their tunnel entrance was located on a ledge above the main floor of the cave. A couple of hanging bridges led from their ledge to another on the far side of the cave and a waterfall opened directly from a tunnel on the opposite wall forming a river that crossed through the city and ended in a lake surrounded by little clay houses. The city was illuminated from the ceiling by hanging circles of fluorescent lights and reflectors that hung in concentric circles from the roof.

It was the largest cave Thomas had seen, but it was still small compared to the library.

“Welcome to Hussahassalin, underground dwelling of the Hassa clan Fauns.” Tony led them into the city.

Fauns filled the city streets. Without their armor and helmets they resembled white-tailed deer. Most of them jumped to and fro, but the fauns with the largest antlers walked slowly and deliberately, their heads high. They had painted designs on their cheeks and colored rocks adorning their antlers. Some wore elaborate clothing like in movies about the old courts in France and England, but most of them wore simple vests and coats. As they walked through town, fauns would stop and exchange words to one another, and throw curious looks at them, their little white tails wiggling as they spoke in their sibilant tongue.

“They might look cute,” Tony whispered, “but these guys can really mess you up if they want to.”

They entered the largest building at the center of the city unopposed by the guards stationed there. A faun wearing a purple and green vest approached them and exchanged words with Tony. The faun took a closer look at Thomas, sniffing him and jumped away.

“He’s Sunassoo, the chief’s chamberlain. Let’s follow him and remember that these guys love big words,” Tony said.

Sunassoo entered a large hall. Standing by a wooden throne was an older faun with large antlers adorned with crisscrossing chains of gold.

“Man friend, Chief Husseha.” Tony bowed and Bolswaithe and Thomas followed his example. “I bring before you, Thomas, sign reader, and Bolswaithe, dutiful protector. Envoys sent to help you by Fae friend, Chief Franco.”

The chief nodded curtly. “Peace to you, Tony, Fae friend,” he said in English. His voice seemed to overlap itself as he spoke. “And welcome to Hussahassalin. May your coming bring us much needed succor.”

Tony took a step back and nodded at Thomas. Apparently, it was his turn to talk.

Thomas cleared his throat and extended his hand. “How can I be of service, um, Chief Husseha? I will do my best to give you and your city um, comfort and uh… aid in this great stressing… ” Tony rubbed his eyes for Thomas to see. “Crossroads? Um, moments of stress.” He finished with a reverence.

The chief’s long tongue wetted his nose. “You seem very young in your trade, sign reader, and not very well versed in old form speech. Talk as you feel comfortable. My people have had to adapt to the human world or be extinguished.”

Thomas lowered his hand. “I’ll help you any way I can, Chief Husseha.”

“It’s my children,” Husseha said. “Follow me.”

They followed the faun to a circular room contiguous to the throne hall.

“Stressful moments of stress?” Tony whispered to Thomas with a little grin. Thomas hunched his shoulders.

The circular room was probably a place to hold conferences or balls, but all entrances except for one had been walled with a mixture of clay, rocks, and flowers.

Three young fauns were walking the inner perimeter separated a few feet from each other. Their hands and legs were covered in caked mud, and their eyes were disturbingly white with an eerie glow. They gazed intently at the center of the room.

The fauns had created mounds, valleys, and spires of clay and mud that rose almost to Thomas’s height.

“My sons began to work five days ago,” the Chief said. “They collected mud, clay, rocks, and flowers by night and they built this…” He extended his hand to the landscape. “They haven’t rested, eaten, or drank since they began, and I fear for their health. That’s why I called the Guardians.”

Thomas approached one of the fauns and passed his hand in front of his eyes. There wasn’t even a blink.

“You think they’ve finished?” Thomas asked.

“They stopped working a couple of hours ago. They’re just circling it now, and it’s the first time they’ve done that during the five days.”

Thomas let the fauns continue their walk and entered their construct taking care not to step on anything. He searched for a word or a message, but nothing appeared readable in any language. He crawled through the inside of the arches and closed his eyes as he passed his fingers on the clay structures, trying to divine by touch what his eyes couldn’t find.

An hour went by, then two. The fauns continued their unrelenting pace and Thomas had walked the perimeter with them, stood on all sides, crouched, and even requested a stair to look at the structure from a higher position. The only thing he got was a headache that grew in intensity with the frustration he felt.

He was going through the center of the structure when the Chief offered him some water. “You might want to rest a little, sign reader.”

Thomas sat down. The mud covering the floor felt cool through his jeans.

The sounds of the town reached him through the walls of the building. He checked his watch: it was 10:39 p.m. but Hussahassalin seemed to be active. He heard peels of laughter coming from baby fauns.

He was tired, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t stop until he cracked the code.

He looked at the first of the fauns. How could they keep walking like that? On and on, in a trance that not even hunger or thirst could break. If he didn’t crack the code they would surely die.

Thomas was looking directly at the fauns’ white eyes when the leading faun walked behind a clay mound on the outside of the structure. An image formed in Thomas’s mind for just a second.

He centered his eyes on the second faun as he walked through the same structure. Another image formed in his head, a flash of something, and he stood up.

“What is it?” Chief Husseha asked from the side of the structure. Thomas felt that he was finally onto something.

“Was it day or night when they built this?” Thomas asked.

“Day time,” the Chief answered. “They collected the things to build at night.”

“So they should be collecting things right now to finish it?”

“No,” the Chief answered. “It is daytime for us. Our days are opposite of those on the outside world. We prefer it that way in order for us to roam outside if we need to.”

The town was illuminated by electric lights; huge reflectors ringed the ceiling of the cave. Thomas knew for sure that the message was supposed to be read in darkness.