The Night Eternal полностью

These. We must carry these back with us. I have spent most of the past two years arranging passage and traveling to and from the Old World in order to collect the remains of all the Ancients. Here I have preserved them in white oak, in accordance with the lore.

Nora said, “You have been around the world? To Europe, the Far East?”

Mr. Quinlan nodded.

“Is it… is it the same there? All over?”

Essentially. The more developed the region, the better the existing infrastructure, the more efficient the transition.

Eph moved closer to the six wooden crematory urns. He said, “What are you preserving them for?”

The lore told me what to do. It did not tell me to what end.

Eph looked around to see if anyone else questioned this. “So you traveled all around the world sweeping up their ashes at great danger to yourself, and you had no interest in why or what for?”

Mr. Quinlan looked at Eph with those red eyes.

Until now.

Eph wanted to press him more on the explanation of the ashes but held his tongue. He did not know the extent of the vampire’s psychic reach, and he was worried about being read and found to be questioning the entire endeavor. For he was still wrestling with the temptation of the Master’s offer. Eph felt like a spy there, allowing Mr. Quinlan to reveal this secret location to him. Eph did not want to know any more than he already did. He was afraid that he was capable of betraying them all. Of trading them and the world for his boy and paying for the transaction with his soul. He grew sweaty and fidgety just thinking about it.

He looked at the others standing there inside the vast underground chamber. Had one among them been corrupted already, as the Master had claimed? Or was this another of the Master’s lies, meant to soften Eph’s own resistance? Eph studied each one in turn, as though his night-vision scope could reveal some identifiable trace of their treachery, like a malignant black stain spreading out from their chest.

Fet spoke up, addressing Mr. Quinlan. “So why did you bring us here?”

Now that I have retrieved the ashes and read the Lumen I am ready to proceed. We have little time left to destroy the Master, but this lair allows us to keep an eye on him. Be close to his own hideout.

“Wait a minute… ,” said Fet, a curious tone in his voice. “Won’t destroying the Master also destroy you?”

It is the only way.

“You want to die? Why?”

The simple and honest answer is that I am tired. Immortality lost its luster for me many centuries ago. In fact, it removes the luster from everything. Eternity is tedium. Time is an ocean, and I want to come ashore. The one bright spot I have left in this world—the one hope—is the potential destruction of my creator. It is revenge.

Mr. Quinlan spoke of what he knew. What he had learned in the Lumen. He spoke in plain terms and with as much clarity as was possible. He explained the origin of the Ancients and the myth of the sites of origin and the emphasis on finding the Black Site, the birth site of the Master.

The part that Gus clicked with most was the three archangels—Gabriel, Michael, and the forgotten third angel, Ozryel—dispatched to fulfill God’s will in destroying the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.

“God’s hardasses,” said Gus, identifying with the avenging angels. “But what do you think. Angels? Really? Gimme a fucking break, hermano.”

Fet shrugged. “I believe what Setrakian believed. And he believed in the book.”

Gus agreed with him but couldn’t let it go just yet. “If there is a God, or some something who can send angel assassins—then what the hell’s He waiting for? What if it is all just stories?”

“Backed up by actions,” said Fet. “The Master located each of the six buried segments of Ozryel’s body—the origin sites of the Ancients—and destroyed them with the only force that could accomplish the task. A nuclear meltdown. The only Godlike energy on Earth, powerful enough to obliterate sacred ground.”