Shiro began to tumble through an endless, featureless void with no up or down or left or right. Panicked by the perfect disorientation, he screamed. Or tried to. He had become pure consciousness in a starless cosmos without light or matter, a black, seething chaos without form or substance.
And then something ahead, faintly luminous, coming his way… or was it stationary and he approaching it? Without asking how he could see without eyes, his crumbling mind grasped at it, clung to it as the only reference point in this endless void.
As he neared, it started to take form… slowly he began to make out its shape… and when finally its features became clear… he did not understand what he was seeing… and as his consciousness tried to comprehend the incomprehensible…
… it shattered.
Jack led Glaeken up to the roof across the street from the Lodge. He felt stained by the carnage they'd left behind, and wanted to shower. He knew the residue lay beneath his skin and had no illusions that he could wash it off, but a cleansing ritual couldn't hurt.
He felt bad about Yoshio's brother—didn't even know his name. His death had been so unnecessary. And then again, maybe not. In retrospect it almost seemed as if he were playing a role in a tragedy that could end only one way.
They arrived in time to see four Kickers wandering around their rooftop.
"Wonder what they're looking for?" Jack said. When Veilleur, standing stiffly beside him, didn't answer, he nudged him. "You with us?"
"He's near."
"Who?"
"The Adversary. I thought I sensed him at the Kakureta Kao building, but with all the chaos around us I couldn't be sure. But here, now, in the quiet, I can feel him."
"Where?"
"Down there somewhere, no more than a block away, I'd say."
As Jack scanned the street below, not sure what he was looking for, a question formed.
"If you can sense him, can't he sense you?"
Veilleur shook his head. "I think he has a vague sense of where I am. I'm sure he knows I'm in New York City, but nothing more specific than that. I'm not who or what I used to be, you know. To him, for the most part, I'm simply another mortal."
"Why would he have been on Staten Island?"
"To sup on the slaughter. He feeds on death and fear and human carnage."
"And misery. Yeah, I know."
He remembered his last meeting with Rasalom, back in January, when he was feeding on Jack's misery and despair.
"He certainly feasted tonight, but I wonder…"
"What?"
"Might he have been there because of Dawn as well?"
Jack thought on that, but it didn't gel.
"He's already holding most of the marbles. What good can Dawn and her baby do for him?"
"I can't imagine. Perhaps I'm wrong."
"You wrong often?"
Veilleur shrugged. "It happens."
Jack watched the Kickers on the roof mill around some, then three of them left. The remaining one seemed to be playing guard, but without much gusto. Jack trained his attention on Hank Thompson's window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dawn as he had before.
Movement on the roof drew his attention there in time to see a dark figure slip from the shadows and slit the throat of the Kicker on guard.
"Did you catch that?"
Veilleur nodded. "One of the Kakureta Kao, I'd guess. I didn't think there were any left."
The figure seated himself in the center of the roof, drank something, and lay back.
"What's he up to?"
"Kuroikaze!" Veilleur grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. "He's sacrificing himself to create a Black Wind! This explains the Adversary's presence. He must have known this was coming."
"Well, if it kills everything, even bacteria, won't it kill him too?"
"Kill him? He'll suck it in. Depending on how far it spreads, he'll feed as he's never fed before. The fear, the misery, the hopelessness a Kuroikaze engenders will bloat him, but the aftermath…" He shook his head. "Remember the panic in the city after nine-eleven? This will be much worse. The Kuroikaze will be called a terrorist attack—and believe me, more than three thousand will die tonight—and since no one will know what caused it, no one will know how to defend against it. Homeland Security will look useless. Imagine the terror. Imagine the Adversary's joy." He turned to Jack. "You've got to stop that shoten."
"Me? How? I don't exactly have a sniper rifle handy, and that's one hell of a pistol shot from here."
"Then you'll have to go over there."
"Swell."
"I'd go myself, but I'm no longer up to it."
"Okay, let's just say I get there. How do I stop it?"
Veilleur looked at him. "There's only one way to stop a Kuroikaze: kill the shoten—the focus."
Jack nodded toward the rooftop. "Him?"
"Him."
Jack didn't feature entering that place and fighting his way to the roof for nothing.
"We don't even know if there's even going to be a Black Wind."
The words had no sooner passed his lips when something changed in the air above the Lodge.
A shadow had formed. No, shadow wasn't right. More like a cloud… a black cloud the size of a stretch limo, lying low and flat atop the roof. The blackest cloud Jack had ever seen, a black like no cloud should be, twisting and contorting as if boiling from within as it expanded. It had doubled in length since he'd spotted it and continued to grow as he watched.