Half-Resurrection Blues_ A Bone Street Rumba Novel - Daniel Jose Older Page 0,61

happen.” He seems suddenly tired, as if now that he’s closer than ever to attaining his goal, he just wants to collapse and be done with it. He waves a lethargic hand toward the masses of ghosts closing steadily on us. “I can’t force you to do it. If you say no, you can leave. I swear to you. But mark my words: it will be done. One way or the other. You would do well to be on the right side of this great moment.” He pauses, maybe to catch his breath. The rain claps against rooftop around us; the clouds swirl overhead. “Will you help me, Carlos?”

“I will,” I hear myself saying. “I will.”

Sarco doesn’t smile. Instead he drops his head, panting. For a second I think he’s just going to collapse right there and become the most anticlimactic fatality of a grand world-changing scheme ever. Instead, he turns around, raises both hands, and lets out a howl that sends a tremble through me. The sky convulses in response. Thunder bursts out, and seconds later a shock of white lightning breaks the clouds. “Then step forward,” Sarco whispers. He nods toward where Mama Esther hangs in the air like an overripe pumpkin.

I take a step toward her. The ngks have begun shimmying up their ghost threads toward us. The mass of hungry dead stretches out for miles to either side of the building. They’re writhing and frothing, desperate to get to this strange new freedom. They can smell the living world, suddenly closer and more palpable than it’s ever been.

I step forward, just an inch or two from my sad old friend the house ghost. The energy crackles and trembles around me. “Yes!” Sarco whispers. “Yes.” The first ngk crosses onto the roof and stops its manic shimmying beside Sarco. It doesn’t look at him—Ngks aren’t big on direct eye contact—but its long mouth stretches all the way across its face and tiny sharp teeth appear. Sarco shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath. The other ngks have paused just shy of the rooftop. “No,” Sarco says. “This is the one. Yes.”

Are they negotiating? Can one negotiate with an ngk? Sarco’s massive shadowy form sags. “Fine, then,” he mutters, and the ngks all move as one toward Mama Esther.

Sarco responds to my unasked question. “They are not interested in humanity or magic. They care nothing for matters of equilibrium. They are fiercely loyal to one another and no one else.”

“That much I gathered.”

“That is always first and foremost for the ngk: its fellow ngk. Beyond that, they care only about one thing.”

“Sexy lady ngks?”

“Food.”

“Come again?”

“The ngks are scavengers. They appear every few centuries, feed off the festering souls of the dead and dying, and vanish back into the shadows of time. They know I’m on the brink of changing the world order. They are nothing if not strategic, dedicated. When the gateway is opened, the ngks will begin a feeding frenzy. They agreed to take part, but they want to be sure they can continue their runs when things settle down.”

“Why don’t they just feast on all these dead geriatrics heading our way?”

Sarco gets very close again. I suppress a shudder. “Because ngks like their meat fresh, Carlos, and they have long game. They’re not just wild animals, eating anything that’s in their path and then dying of famine. Ngks are the spiders that meticulously build their traps and then lie in wait, for centuries if need be. They serve their purpose—cleansing the ranks of death. And then they get out of the way. Their presence here means that they believe in what’s about to happen. The future. Soon you’ll understand. Now step forward, Carlos. Stand with us.”

When I enter the space within Mama Esther’s shroud, the first thing I feel is a shock of pain course through me, and I wonder if the whole thing was some cruel joke. Within seconds though, the pain turns to something else: power. A surge of crisp, living energy runs from my head to my toes, a vitality I’ve never known or imagined. I gaze from side to side, aghast at this sudden burst of potency, this life in my veins. This power. The ngks are all around me, grabbing at the folds of Mama Esther’s cloudy edges and pulling outward. She flickers as she expands: an impossible darkness appears inside her that I realize is the night sky in the living world. Soon the opening will cover the whole