--Insert obligatory mumbo-jumbo here.--

Chapter 11

Dark Clouds Gather

Shadow went downstairs to breakfast with a big grin on his face and a spring in his step. There were claw marks along his ribs, tender, but a small enough price to pay. From the tonic jug and empty juice glass on the drain board beside the sink, he deduced that Corso was already up and about, but there was no one else in the kitchen, not even Bast or Jinx. He assembled a meal from the groceries and leftovers in the Kelvinator. (Jacquel's pathology samples were on a different shelf.)

What now? he wondered as he munched on his breakfast. Ibis and Jacquel would get Corso fixed up; he wouldn't need a driver any longer...though he might need a bodyguard if The Blonde was still in the picture.

Travel was wearing thin as a novelty. Shadow hadn't seen the whole world by any stretch of the imagination, but at the moment, it was relaxing to be in a familiar place among people he knew. Did he want to spend the next thirty or forty years as an undertaker's assistant? Shadow smiled as he remembered Mr. Ibis on the evolution of political correctness: "First, we were undertakers, then we became morticians, now we're funeral directors."

The bottom line was, there were worse thing he could be doing: time, for instance. Shadow wasn't overly ambitious; the thought of days helping Jacquel and Ibis and nights spent with Bast didn't strike him as a terrible prospect.

As he rinsed off his dishes, Shadow became aware of organ music reverberating softly through the building, a limping rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In". Not wholly inappropriate for a funeral, but unexpected nonetheless. He moved cautiously through the halls, mindful that there might be a legitimate funeral occurring. He wouldn't want to intrude on that. Maybe the hesitant organist was distracted by grief at the death of a parent, friend or mentor, or maybe--maybe Corso just didn't play the organ very well.

Corso stopped manipulating the keyboard as Shadow loomed in the doorway. "Come to save me from myself?" he asked. "It's okay, I cleared it with Ibis first."

"If you told him you could play the organ, you lied," Shadow retorted amiably.

"Yeah, I haven't played in, oh God, it must be at least thirty years."

"I thought you were a bookworm," said Shadow. "When did you manage music lessons?"

Corso shrugged. "My dad's aunt had an organ and knew how to play. She showed me a few tunes, but it wasn't lessons, exactly. For one thing, I can't read music; it's all just polka dots and pinstripes to me." He bent his head to the keyboard again. "Let's see if I remember anything else." His rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" was decent.

Corso spoke affectionately of his Aunt Mary, who'd taught him what little he knew about music, as he fumbled with "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore". Again, Shadow was struck by the fact that there was a real person in there--other than the literary snob who still looked faintly surprised every time Shadow used a word more than two syllables long.

I'm not just that big dumb guy who's only good for moving heavy objects. There's more to me than that. So why don't I expect more from him than being a jerk? That's decending to his level. His lowest level, since he's got more than one.... Just then, something warm brushed against his ankles. Shadow looked down at Bast.

Hello!

Shadow's eyebrows went up half an inch. "Hello to you, too," he said cautiously.

She twined about his legs, purring. It's so good to have you back. I missed you. Bast rubbed her whiskers against his cuffs. You understand about me...and you're good to my people.

Good morning! That was Jinx, who had apparently overcome her awe and terror of the Cat Goddess.

"And good morning to you, Jinx."

She's Bast! The Siamese imparted the news as earnestly as any teeny-bopper smitten with a pop star.

He knows that. Bast addressed the other cat patiently. The tip of Jinx's tail was twitching; she looked like she was about to start bouncing off walls at any moment.

Throughout the exchange, Corso hadn't done more than glance up from the organ. Apparently, he couldn't understand Khat any more than he could read music. Shadow's night vision had improved greatly after his other liasion with Bast; this was another interesting side-effect. But if I start hacking up hairballs, we're gonna have to talk, he thought, bemused. He crouched down, his back against the door jamb, caressing both cats. Jinx was a little shy, as if she was worried that Bast had staked a claim on him, but finally yielded to the fingers massaging the back of her neck.

"What a cozy domestic scene," said Mr. Jacquel from the hallway behind Shadow. "Like a Grant Wood painting, perhaps, entitled 'Tableau with Cats'. No, don't get up, Bast would be rather put out with me for interrupting." The doorway was wide enough for him to stride through without dislodging Shadow or the cats.

Mr. Ibis entered a few paces behind him. Corso stopped playing, looking from one god to the other.

"While we have been able to help Cerridwyn with other matters," Mr. Ibis began, "your case presents us with something of a dilemma. You see, the others, well--" Shadow didn't think he'd ever seen the talkative Mr. Ibis at a loss for words before.

"Mr. Corso," interjected Jacquel, "you're not dead. If you were dead, we might---might, possibly---be able to help, but you're not. And given the nature of the forces at work, it would be unwise to intervene. Otherwise, being dead is a fairly minor detail."

Dean Corso was staring at them with his mouth hanging open. Shadow figured he'd better say something. "You mean, what's after him could get to him before you could, if he got dead," he guessed.

"Exactly!" Mr. Ibis beamed at him. "There are a number of dimensions for the afterlife, and we are far from the only guides who travel those realms."

"The mark you've been touched with is like a beacon," Jacquel said gravely. "It will draw certain entities to you, dead or alive."

"Isn't there some way to get rid of it?" Corso asked, despairing.

"Look, what about going behind the scenes?" Shadow persisted. "Isn't there a way to do something there?"

Jacquel was shaking his head again. "Not for him," he told Shadow. "You can go there because it's part of your birthright, but he's born of man and woman. That way is closed to him."

"What's behind the scenes?" Corso still looked baffled.

"Another dimension," explained Jacquel. "Nothing that will do you any good."

"So, there's nothing you can do?" The lines of pain creasing the corners of his eyes and mouth as he winced made him appear much older than his early forties.

"There are several things we can try which should reduce your discomfort and perhaps arrest further decay," Ibis assured him. "It just isn't a cure."

"Meanwhile, we'll ask around and try to find anyone else who may be able to help." Jacquel's resonant voice was sincere, oddly comforting to be emerging from such an imposing individual.

"Thank you," said Corso.

"If you would accompany us." Mr. Ibis gestured to the door. Corso rose and the trio moved past Shadow and the cats.

He's afraid. Bast said suddenly. I can smell it on him.

He's in pain! Jinx sounded as if she was defending him. She darted down the hallway behind them.

"She couldn't stand him when we started out," Shadow murmured. He hadn't been invited, which was just fine by him. Whatever they had planned for Corso was probably a lot less intimate than Cerridwyn's little ritual, but he really didn't want to know.

She's still young. Bast sounded tolerant. And she's quite empathic, so she reacted negatively to him until she realized that he wasn't trying to hurt her with his pain. Once she understood that he was experiencing that pain himself, she became much more sympathetic. Now, she's trying to lessen it for him.

Shadow sat with his back against the door frame, absorbing her words. Some of it was conveyed by little mews and almost subliminal purring...her body language was part of it, especially her very expressive tail. "But she can't heal him, can she?"

No! A short cry. Not even I can do that. She can soothe him, though, and help calm him. He's very agitated. Her tail lashed about to illustrate the point.

"He doesn't act it. I mean, I know he's worried...."

With good reason. Your friend is dying, and he knows it. It isn't a peaceful death. Dark clouds are gathering around him, smothering him. If he doesn't get help soon-- She wailed mournfully, and Shadow shivered at the sound.