The Eternal Tomb

The Eternal Tomb

Oliver Nocturne, Book Five

Kevin Emerson

For Craig Walker and Michelle Mortlock, who first
believed in Oliver.

Prologue

BY MOST MEASUREMENTS, NECRESIUM
was a small world. It consisted of only a few billion stars, a hundred wormholes, and eighteen planets that held life. That wasn't much compared to Necresium's closest neighboring world, where Earth was located, whose galaxies secretly contained seventy three planets with alien ecosystems.

Necresium was located above, to the east, seventeen minutes earlier, and 8.2 gravity degrees away from Earth. It had little matter, and to humans it would have looked like a messy watercolor painting. They would never have understood that the long, fluttering bands of color were actually the brilliant, thousand-year-old Necresians.

There was, however, one being in Necresium that certain Earth creatures might have recognized. He owned a drug and alchemy emporium in one of the smaller cities. And he had just invited two guests to his shop for an important meeting.

The shopkeeper stood patiently behind a tall counter, watching the guests walk slowly down the aisle toward him. One woman was older, with long white hair. She was dressed in faded jeans, a long leather coat, and a cowboy hat, as if she'd just stepped out of the Wild West, which she had. The younger woman had wide, dark eyes and wore a flowing white gown and sandals, her hair braided, as if she'd just stepped out of ancient Greece, which was also true.

The younger guest held a diamond-shaped hand mirror with a jade border. She glanced behind the shopkeeper, where a similar mirror was hung on the wall. White lights seemed to dance in that mirror, as they also did in the one in her hand.

The guests' eyes darted around the shop, noting the neatly organized shelves of black bottles, the brightly lit ceiling, from which faint, tinny music played, and the tiled floor, on which their sandals and cowboy boots surprisingly made no sound.

Welcome,
the shopkeeper said in their minds.

The guests paused, feeling a ripple of fear. The shopkeeper wasn't surprised. He had black, scaled skin, short yellow horns, a mouth of enormous saber teeth, and apple-size gold coin eyes. He also had ten legs and sixteen arms. The eight fingers on each hand came to long, razorlike points. He clicked them against the hard countertop, one then the next, like a slowly ticking clock.

Who are you?
the younger guest thought to him.

I am Dexires.
He smiled at her.
Have you enjoyed our gift?

The young woman regarded the mirror in her hand.
I have. It's quite powerful
.

Of course
.

Why did you ask us here?
the older guest asked. She avoided looking at him.

I have something else for you
, said Dexires. He placed a black bottle on the counter.

What is it?
the older guest asked suspiciously.

Dexires didn't answer. Instead, he peered at the young woman and asked,
Do you know what I am?

Yes, I believe I do
, she answered.

And do you know what YOU are?

I
—

It's not a trick question, Margaret
.

Then…yes
, Margaret Watkins answered.

Indeed
, said Dexires, his smile widening, baring his glistening black teeth fully.
Then you understand that what is about to happen on Earth, with the Nexia prophecy, must be stopped
.

Selene has delivered the key to undoing the prophecy to the vampire boy
, said Margaret, nodding to the older guest.

And how did that go?
asked Dexires.

Fine
, said Selene.
Things got complicated, but luckily Oliver's older brother came along and helped relay my instructions
.

Word has it that you were killed to raise the Artifact
, said Dexires.

That's good to hear
, said Selene.
We made it appear that I'd died, and then hid me in the past
.

It was very convincing. And are you enjoying Arcana?
Dexires asked, referring to the town where Selene was hiding.

Well enough
, said Selene.

There's something wrong, isn't there?
Margaret asked worriedly.

Dexires nodded.
I'm afraid so. It's come to our attention that a certain party has taken an interest in the prophecy as well
.

Who?

Well, unfortunately, one of us
.

One of you? said
Selene.
How is that possible?

Anything is possible, dear
, said Dexires tightly.
Unfortunately, it was always a danger given the extreme effects of Finity in your world. But as a result, she has made things more complicated
.

Margaret's face paled.
Does she know about
—

Emalie?
Dexires asked.
No, none of them do. Yet. But they will.… The dark portents still surround her. She has gotten closer to the vampire than we hoped, and thus closer to danger
.

Unless the prophecy is undone
, said Margaret.

Yes, well, about that
… Dexires opened the small bottle on the counter. A misty cloud rose from it and formed a picture before them.

Margaret and Selene gazed at the strange image, brows furrowed, as they tried to understand its meaning.

It's a backup
, Dexires explained.
Just in case things don't go according to plan.
He closed the bottle and handed it to Margaret.
Free of charge. Now, it's time for you to go back
.

A shadow passed across Margaret's face.

Dexires's eyes glowed sympathetically.
Sister
, he thought to her affectionately,
you know what needs to be done
.

They're going to capture me when I return
, said Margaret quietly.

Some things can't be avoided. And remember, that, too, is part of the plan
.

Selene put an arm around Margaret's shoulder.
It will work
, she said.

But we can't be sure, and Emalie
… A tear slipped from her eye.

Take comfort in this
, Dexires advised.
No one is ever truly sure what is about to happen. So the playing field is level. Just make sure to use that mirror when the time is right. And as they say on Earth, good luck
.

Margaret nodded, slipping the bottle into her woven shoulder bag. She and Selene turned to leave.

Dexires watched them go, feeling guilty for what he'd just said. There was no such thing as good luck. Only what came next. What was fortunate for one being was almost always unfortunate for another. Such was the balance of the universe itself.

He turned to the mirror behind him. Many lights danced on his face.
It is all we can do
, he replied to them. Now the rest was in the hands of a few otherwise insignificant beings on Earth. Dexires smiled. It was always amusing how this universe worked. Hopefully it wouldn't end anytime soon.

Chapter 1

Infiltrating the Inquisition

READY?

In the ink-black dead of night, a single red light flickered. Given its grave importance, the light was surprisingly weak. It did not reach the dark waters below, which lapped against an old, rusted ferryboat that was docked in a forgotten corner of an abandoned shipyard. It barely reached past the edge of the balcony on which its keeper stood. But the crystal sphere of magmalight, perched on a tall wooden staff, was bright enough to alert those who knew where to look.

I think so
…

The light's keeper stood still, shrouded in a hooded black robe, staring straight ahead with a single, pupil-less white eye. It didn't see the giant cargo ships slipping by on the water, nor the glow of sleepy houses on the far shore.

I don't know about this
.…

What the eye of the Reader did see was the matrix of forces intersecting from many worlds, specifically the force signatures of beings that might not be visible to normal sight.

Dean, just trust me
.

Okay.

There was little for the Reader to see tonight. Other than the shimmering spirit of a dead bird fluttering aimlessly in the wind, the night appeared empty. All the guests were inside. Now it was a matter of keeping unwanted presences out.

Hello
, a voice suddenly spoke in its head.

The Reader started, confused, sensing a strange presence in its mind—something living, a girl? But wait, it also felt like a demon.…

Cecitethhhh
… The voice hissed, and the Reader's mind clouded, losing track of the forces around it. Blinded, the creature panicked, staggering—

Then the feeling was gone. The Reader's lidless eye, which had momentarily dimmed, began glowing brightly again, and its view of the forces returned. There was the still, dark night, the spirit of the dead bird.… The Reader sighed. His eighth-millennium birthday was approaching. Age did funny things to the senses.

Meanwhile, behind the Reader, two shadowy figures hurried down a dark metal hallway undetected, into the bowels of the ferry.

We're in
, Oliver thought.

Great
, Emalie said in his mind, and then popped into sight between him and Dean.

“Nice work,” said Oliver.

“Thanks,” Emalie replied, but then she stumbled and crashed to her knees. The sound reverberated up and down the hall. Oliver glanced worriedly back toward the Reader, but it didn't turn. It had no sense of hearing.

Dean knelt and helped Emalie up. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“I'm fine.” Emalie shook him free. She looked pale. Oliver noticed that her eyes had changed, as they did when she made contact with demons, her pupils turning white and her irises red. “Stop looking at me like that,” Emalie snapped at Oliver. “I can handle it.”

“If you say so,” said Oliver. He knew better than to argue with her. Still, things like this had happened to Emalie before, and they were only getting more frequent. It wasn't supposed to be possible for a human, even an Orani, to speak with the dead the way that Emalie could.

They entered the cabin of the ship. The rows of seats were bent at odd angles, strung together with cobwebs. The boat had been out of use for decades, and looked it, which was the point. No one would expect a meeting of such importance to be held here.

“This way.” Oliver pushed open a door into the kitchen. The steel appliances and cabinets were covered with graffiti, the counters littered with trash.

They reached another door and Oliver paused. He could hear the echoing voices on the other side. He turned and shot a severe glance at Emalie and Dean.

“We know,” Dean moaned, “stay quiet and don't get found out and all that.”

“Pretty much,” Oliver agreed.

“I just wish I could go,” said Dean.