idiom.”
“So they’d put…brains in those things?”
She laughed. “No, the brain was discarded entirely. You ought to know, Mr. Faust: the
heart
is the seat of your power. As for the jars, they stored the liver, intestines, stomach, and lungs. They’d be interred along with a mummy’s sarcophagus, keeping their body pristine and safe for their voyage into the West.”
“So that’s the historic use.” I glanced over my shoulder, making sure nobody was close enough to overhear. “Next question: what could a necromancer do with canopic jars?”
Her smile vanished.
As she spoke, I could feel her probing me again, intently, like a finger poking at my chest. “Before I answer that, you must tell me something. And speak truly.”
“Ask.”
“Chicago, like your own city, I must imagine, has a very insular occult community. All of the influential powers know one another, or at least know
of
one another. And you are here to steal something. I can always smell a thief. Tell me: who is your intended prey?”
I thought of ten different denials and snuffed each one out before they could reach my lips. I remembered what Bentley had told me about her patience. Either I could take a chance and lay my cards on the table or walk. No middle option.
“Damien Ecko,” I said. “That a problem?”
“I have known Damien Ecko for a very long time.” The way she said it, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Are you in the habit of making powerful enemies, Mr. Faust?”
“I wish I could say I wasn’t.”
“I’d be surprised if you’ve met one more powerful than Damien. He has his fingers in many different shadows.”
“You should have met a lady named Lauren Carmichael,” I said. “Trust me, I’ve been in some tight spots before. Besides, if things go right, he’ll never know it was me. That is…assuming you aren’t going to tell him.”
The faintest ghost of her smile returned. “No. In truth, each of us would be pleased to see the other one gone forever. I am not a violent person by nature, though, and…well, he made an attempt on my life once, many years ago, and he learned a valuable lesson from it: peaceful does not mean weak. Since then, we’ve agreed to keep to our personal corners of the city and stay out of each other’s business.”
“Sounds like me and an old business associate of mine,” I said. “Doesn’t always work, though. So Ecko has jars like these in his office. He’s also got this…thing.”
“The abomination, yes.” Her lips pursed tightly. “I’ve seen it. And your observations are not unrelated. There are paths of ancient Egyptian sorcery—
heka
—intended to pervert the rites of holy internment. With such knowledge, a magician could use the trappings of a sacred burial to
prevent
a soul from moving on. To keep it here, binding it in shackles of misery and pain, a slave to the sorcerer’s will.”
“Lovely. So if these jars are keeping that thing on a leash…”
“Breaking them will free its tortured soul. That’s assuming you can even get close enough to try. I assure you, the creature has been ordered to defend those jars, and it will fight like a demon to keep itself in chains. And don’t forget: one isn’t enough. Until
all four
jars are sundered, it will still be under Damien’s control.”
“Fortunately,” I said, “I’m really good at breaking things.”
Halima gave me a small smile, but she looked anything but amused. “I would wish you fortune, but if fortune favored you, you wouldn’t be here. I’ll be praying for your soul tonight.”
I cracked a smile. “You’d be the first.”
“Then guard it well. For it would be better for your soul to fall into the depths of perdition than for it to fall into the hands of Damien Ecko.”
13.
I got back to the motel right around sunset. Stanwyck was out in the parking lot with Coop and Augie, helping to unload canvas sacks from the back of a battered panel van. An
“So they’d put…brains in those things?”
She laughed. “No, the brain was discarded entirely. You ought to know, Mr. Faust: the
heart
is the seat of your power. As for the jars, they stored the liver, intestines, stomach, and lungs. They’d be interred along with a mummy’s sarcophagus, keeping their body pristine and safe for their voyage into the West.”
“So that’s the historic use.” I glanced over my shoulder, making sure nobody was close enough to overhear. “Next question: what could a necromancer do with canopic jars?”
Her smile vanished.
As she spoke, I could feel her probing me again, intently, like a finger poking at my chest. “Before I answer that, you must tell me something. And speak truly.”
“Ask.”
“Chicago, like your own city, I must imagine, has a very insular occult community. All of the influential powers know one another, or at least know
of
one another. And you are here to steal something. I can always smell a thief. Tell me: who is your intended prey?”
I thought of ten different denials and snuffed each one out before they could reach my lips. I remembered what Bentley had told me about her patience. Either I could take a chance and lay my cards on the table or walk. No middle option.
“Damien Ecko,” I said. “That a problem?”
“I have known Damien Ecko for a very long time.” The way she said it, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Are you in the habit of making powerful enemies, Mr. Faust?”
“I wish I could say I wasn’t.”
“I’d be surprised if you’ve met one more powerful than Damien. He has his fingers in many different shadows.”
“You should have met a lady named Lauren Carmichael,” I said. “Trust me, I’ve been in some tight spots before. Besides, if things go right, he’ll never know it was me. That is…assuming you aren’t going to tell him.”
The faintest ghost of her smile returned. “No. In truth, each of us would be pleased to see the other one gone forever. I am not a violent person by nature, though, and…well, he made an attempt on my life once, many years ago, and he learned a valuable lesson from it: peaceful does not mean weak. Since then, we’ve agreed to keep to our personal corners of the city and stay out of each other’s business.”
“Sounds like me and an old business associate of mine,” I said. “Doesn’t always work, though. So Ecko has jars like these in his office. He’s also got this…thing.”
“The abomination, yes.” Her lips pursed tightly. “I’ve seen it. And your observations are not unrelated. There are paths of ancient Egyptian sorcery—
heka
—intended to pervert the rites of holy internment. With such knowledge, a magician could use the trappings of a sacred burial to
prevent
a soul from moving on. To keep it here, binding it in shackles of misery and pain, a slave to the sorcerer’s will.”
“Lovely. So if these jars are keeping that thing on a leash…”
“Breaking them will free its tortured soul. That’s assuming you can even get close enough to try. I assure you, the creature has been ordered to defend those jars, and it will fight like a demon to keep itself in chains. And don’t forget: one isn’t enough. Until
all four
jars are sundered, it will still be under Damien’s control.”
“Fortunately,” I said, “I’m really good at breaking things.”
Halima gave me a small smile, but she looked anything but amused. “I would wish you fortune, but if fortune favored you, you wouldn’t be here. I’ll be praying for your soul tonight.”
I cracked a smile. “You’d be the first.”
“Then guard it well. For it would be better for your soul to fall into the depths of perdition than for it to fall into the hands of Damien Ecko.”
13.
I got back to the motel right around sunset. Stanwyck was out in the parking lot with Coop and Augie, helping to unload canvas sacks from the back of a battered panel van. An
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