Barnes himself swallowed dryly, sickened. He had already thrown up once that morning.
The boy closed his mouth as though having just ingested an eyedropper’s worth of medicine. He grimaced—either at the taste or at the pain of the swallow—and within a few moments his hand came away from his throat. His head hung low as he regained normal respiration, his airway opening, his lungs clearing miraculously. Almost instantly, his pallor returned to normal—the new normal, that is, meaning sallow and sun-hungry.
The boy blinked and looked around, seeing the room for the first time since entering in respiratory distress. His mother—or what remained of her—had entered from the doorway, perhaps summoned by her Dear One’s distress. Yet her blank face showed neither concern nor relief. Barnes wondered how often this healing ritual was performed. Once every week? Once every day?
The boy looked at Barnes as though for the first time, the white-goateed man he had shoved away just moments before.
“Why is there another human here?” asked Zack Goodweather.
The boy’s supercilious manner surprised Barnes, who remembered Goodweather’s son as a thoughtful, curious, well-mannered child. Barnes ran his fingers through his own hair, summoning some dignity.
“Zachary, do you remember me?”
The boy’s lips curled as though he resented being asked to study Barnes’s face. “Vaguely,” he said, his tone harsh, his manner haughty.
Barnes remained patient, upbeat. “I was your father’s boss. In the old world.”
Again, Barnes saw the father in the son—but less so now. Just as the Eph who visited him had changed, so had the boy. His young eyes were distant, distrusting. He had the attitude of a boy-prince.
Zachary Goodweather said, “My father is dead.”
Barnes started to speak, then wisely held back his words. He glanced at the Master, and there was no change of expression in the creature’s rippling face—but Barnes knew somehow not to contradict. For an instant, as he perceived the big picture and saw everyone’s play and position in this particular drama, he felt bad for Eph. His own son… But, Barnes being Barnes, the feeling didn’t last long and he began to think of a way to profit from this.
Low Library, Columbia University
Mr. Quinlan’s eyes were unusually vibrant when he said this.
“Every site had them,” said Fet. “Except that one.”
He was actively working on the Bible, trying to shape it as close to the
“Do you think that is the key?”
“Because it wanted to protect its own origin site.”
In spite of the thrilling information, Fet seemed distant, distracted.
“Sorry. I’m thinking about Eph,” said Fet. “He’s out. With Nora.”
“Getting some medicine. For me.”
Fet was caught short. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he said, but now it was his turn to worry.
Macy’s Herald Square
EPH AND NORA exited the subway at Thirty-fourth Street and Pennsylvania Station. It was there at the train station, nearly two years before, that Eph had left Nora, Zack, and Nora’s mother, in a last-ditch attempt to get them safely out of the city before New York fell to the vampire plague. A horde of creatures had derailed the train inside the North River Tunnel, foiling their escape, and Kelly had made off with Zack, taking him to the Master.