Chapter 8: Irrevocable Step

"A wise man associating with the vicious becomes an idiot; a dog traveling with good men becomes a rational being."

"You cannot see Arthur Graves again. The FBI is monitoring his visitors."

"How…how do you know about him?"

"I told you, we found his skeleton. Didn't you see me get the key from the vault? When I was trying to find out if our corrupt lobbyist had gone into hiding, it came up that any visitors to the nursing home would be monitored by the FBI. I wouldn't worry about visiting him. They say he has Alzheimer's, though I'd suspect they did not consider prion disease when they made that diagnosis. Did you ever observe him to eat any part of the brain or spinal column, or did he limit himself to muscle tissue?"

Nothos studied him intently. "You will come with me tonight."

"Come with you…where?" Zack asked, confused.

"You'll see," Nothos said with a smile, which looked different with the false teeth. He then tied a blindfold across Zack's eyes.

"How will I see if I'm blindfolded?" Zack asked, confused.

Nothos did not clarify; he took Zack's wrist and deftly twisted it behind him, handcuffing him. "Ow," Zack complained.

He put a hand on his shoulder and repeated, "Come with me."

Zack surmised that Nothos drove a van, because he was made to climb into the back. He got in and sat quietly, nervous not to have a seatbelt. He was used to being in the back of the vehicle; Hodgins always let Angela sit in the front seat if she were with them. Agent Booth had never let him sit in the front seat, regardless. But at least they let him have a seat.

Zack preferred airplanes to cars. He hoped that one day, you'd be able to take an airplane everywhere. He knew it wasn't entirely practical in cities, with their high congestion and building density. Cars seemed to be such an inferior substitute, though. No lift, no banking, their course was limited by the path and contours of the road. He felt the van pull out of Hodgins driveway, and turn left. They reached the end of the street, just as they did every morning on the way to work. The driver was silent, and he did not turn on the radio, so Zack devoted all of his attention to following the path of the van. He was supposed to see even while blindfolded, so he did his best.

There was a crunch as the tires of the van struck gravel, and then shortly afterwards, the van stopped. The driver side door slammed; the rear door was opened. Two years ago, Zack would have announced aloud the time and estimated mileage he had kept, but he had learned to be silent since then. He only offered up such information when he was asked. He did not complain about how uncomfortable the handcuffs were, either.

"Come with me," Nothos said again. He led Zack around to the back of the house by a hand on his upper arm, then removed the blindfold and handcuffs.

Zack rubbed his wrists, then followed him down the steps to a basement. "What is this place?" he asked.

"It's mine," Nothos said. He unlocked the door and slipped inside. It was dark, and the space was confined. It smelled like a kitchen, and was warm, too. The passageway opened up into a well-lit room.

Zack stumbled in the doorway, and his mouth fell open. He froze.

Nothos gestured with a sweep of his arm. "This place is mine. It is here that you will learn what it means to be a Gormogon."

Zack was not listening to him. He was staring at the dead boy strung up against the back wall, arms pointed upwards. The angle of the wrists suggested he did not restrain himself; from this distance, Zack could not tell if he were strung up pre-mortem or post-mortem.

Gormogon followed his gaze. "My late Apprentice, the Sacrifice," he said by way of introductions. He walked to the back, and picked up something that was next to the body.

Zack had come down into the room. "Why am I here?" he asked tentatively. His voice wavered a bit.

"You are here to learn. You will learn what it means to be Gormogon, to continue the legacy." The dish he was carrying contained blood drained from the victim after his death. Zack recognized the smell of it. He was familiar with blood, though he did not like it so…fresh. "Unbutton your shirt."

Confused, Zack obeyed. Gormogon dipped his hand into the blood and smeared it on Zack's chest. As soon as he touched him, two things happened – Zack shut his mouth, and he realized the blood was warm. He did not deal with warm bodies. He started shaking.

"I...can't," he said, pleading with Gormogon to understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to....

"You'll let him die in vain?" Gormogon asked, pointing at the dead boy with his thumb. He didn't even look at him. "He was expendable, but I killed him for you. So you could take his place. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Zack took a step back. "I'll help you. I've always said I'll help you. I...I admire what you do, and I want to learn more about..." He looked up. He wasn't supposed to say Gormogon in front of him.... "your...society? But I want to wash this blood off of me."

Gormogon tilted his head to the side and considered him. "Just as I thought. We have a lot of work to do with you. No matter." He turned and walked away. Zack did not follow him. "Well?"

Zack did not respond.

"If you are going to be my Apprentice, then you will address me as Master."

Zack walked over towards his Master. He studiously avoided looking at the dead boy. Focus on the details.

"How did you keep the blood fluid, Master?" he asked, dabbing at his chest gingerly. "You've been gone too long; it should have coagulated by now...oh." Zack saw that the dish the blood was in had been sitting in what was essentially a hot water bath. Rivulets of blood mingled with water trickled down Zack's chest and stained the waistband of his pants. Would he be able to wash it out?

"Let's begin, shall we?"

Zack climbed into the back seat of Hodgins' car the next morning. He did not say a word to his friend. "Get much sleep last night?" Angela asked. Zack assumed she was addressing him, so he just shook his head.

"You watched it, didn't you? I told you not to watch that alone," Hodgins admonished. "The Exorcist was on TV last night," he said by way of explanation to Angela.

She wrinkled up her nose. "Ewww. You should never watch horror movies alone. You should invite a girl over, and then hold her when she gets scared."

"Very good advice," Hodgins said in approval.

"If I had invited you over last night, would you have come?" Zack asked, curious.

"I said a girl, Zack, not me. If I'm going to hold anyone during a horror movie, it's this guy." She was dismissive. Oh.

"Find your own woman, man. This one's all mine." Zack didn't like when Hodgins looked at Angela while driving, but he had learned not to say anything. At least the car was stopped at the moment. He resolutely looked out the window.

"'All mine'? A bit possessive, aren't we?"

"Only as much as I'm yours, baby."

"That's what we should do. We should find Zack a girlfriend," Angela went on after the light turned green. "It's just wrong for people to not have anyone to share horror movies with."

"I could just not watch horror movies," Zack offered. Obviously, he hadn't, so the immediate need for a girlfriend was a moot point. Considering what was in his sink at that very moment, it was a good thing there were no prospects of bringing home a girl. He did not feel comfortable being misleading, but it was better that they assume he was afraid of a movie. He certainly didn't want to discuss what he had actually done the night before. Hodgins turned on NPR, and that was the end of the conversation.

Author's Note: I apologize for the fade to black. Whatever you're imagining is more traumatic than what I would have written, I'm sure. It was great to finally see Zack again in the finale!