Epilogue
No. Nothing comes from nothing. And so, what is ancient is not the beginning of things.
—Duns Scotus, “A Haecceity Corollary”
Three days after my Strata trial I once again stood on the stage at Wembley Stadium.
This time, a hundred thousand metal fans were holding up lighters and cell phones in the dusk as we played our last tune—“They Always Go Away.” The scents of stage smoke and cigarette smoke passing on the breeze were like old friends.
My shirt clung to my back—slick with sweat—as I pushed everything I had into this last performance with the Hounds.
I held the last note even after the guys’ instruments had rung out.
I wasn’t trying to upstage them, or pull any extra love from the audience.
I just wanted to leave it all on the stage one last time.
And the longer I held that note, the louder the crowd got, singing with me.
I doubled over, squeezing every last breath I had, until I let it all go.
The final word echoed with deep delay, and the stadium roared.
I won’t lie. Getting to play that song, in its final version, for a crowd like that, felt awfully damned good. As we came offstage, hyped from the show, we shared hugs and congratulations.
“That was insane,” Lynn said. “Holy hell, how cool!”
I wiped sweat from my face. “I won’t ever forget that.”
The guys, to their credit, didn’t try to talk me back into the band again. And we didn’t even need to say goodbye. We were still friends, and they followed me over to the Iron Horse. The after-party for the show just so happened to be part of the grand reopening of the Horse.
We walked in and the Hounds headed up to the bar for drinks. I cut left to my table. The all-welcome feeling of the Iron Horse had returned. And though Henry had moved on, his love and passion were so deep in the place, it almost felt like he was still behind the bar, drying glasses.
Nightwish was on the stage getting ready to play.
Yesterday, they’d headlined the first night of the festival, and were holding over to do some recording with the London Symphony.
Their keyboard player, Tuomas Holopainen, was a buddy of mine, so they agreed to play the Horse for the reopening even though it was like a closet compared to their usual venues.
I sat in my booth in the corner, alone for the first time in days.
It was where I’d always run to when it all went to hell.
And hell had certainly come. Shadows flickered from the light of a dozen handmade candles, reminding me of Henry and the stories he’d always told about the Iron
Horse when we dipped them together.
I thought about Cassius, too. And Jimmy. And all the others.
I even thought about Mama. Forgiving her would be something I’d work on every time a memory of her returned.
It would take time. Lady had offered to stitch my wound back up, but I told her no.
For now, I wanted to live with it open, the past always close and raw.
I’d figured out how to live with the pain a bit better, and somehow I thought it might heal faster if I remembered it all.
Plus, there was some good stuff in there that came out from time to time.
Not to mention Henry had had some open wounds.
Made me wonder if being a good steward meant living with a few.
But none of it made the skin at my wrists itch. Not tonight, anyway. And I still had to forgive myself for quite a lot. Hopefully, that’d come with time, too.
There was something in my shadow that had changed, though.
While my gleam notes still pulsed like a passage from the Shawshank score composed by Thomas Newman, they now reminded me of that part of the movie under the old oak tree.
The notes ascended in a long, slow melody, then descended with a resolution that felt like hope.
The pattern didn’t give me any sense of certainty, but it did help me see my song could change.
Across the pub, Chuey and Kincaid sat talking with Church and Lady. Chuey had them all laughing, as he recounted memories of all our fallen friends—tonight was also a celebration of their lives. He told story after story as he dished out lasagna.
Even though the ward was back in place, I still flinched now and then when the door to the Horse opened. This time, it was Margaretha, Emaline’s attaché. She motioned me outside.
I followed her out into the shadows of the alley. Standing there, beneath the old Iron Horse light, was Emaline in Doc Martens, black jeans, and a leather coat. Her face flared in the light of her cigarillo as I approached.
“Quite a night for you,” she said. “Congratulations on your reopening.” “Thanks. I trust things are good on your end?”
“Indeed, Jack.”
“What can I do for you?”
She took a deep drag. “I came to express my gratitude. I hadn’t anticipated your revelation at the trial. That was advanced shadow theory.”
“I got lucky,” I said. “And it almost didn’t matter, anyway, did it?”
She turned her head to exhale away from my face, her jawline catching the light. “I hadn’t anticipated Brach using a gudgeon, either. That oversight nearly earned me a stay at Newgate.”
“I guess it all worked out,” I said. “We restored the ward, too.”
“I felt as much.” She pointed her cigarillo at the Iron Horse behind me. “It’s as comfortable here as I remember.”
“How do you mean?”
Emaline tapped off her ashes. “It may interest you to know that I came to the Iron Horse some months ago, seeking refuge.”
I knew she had more to say, and sensed it wouldn’t be good, so just waited for the rest.
“I asked you once what you’d be willing to do to escape a life of slavery. Remember, Jack? For me, there was a time I was willing to risk Brach’s anger and retribution for coming here.”
“You never told me the last part,” I said.
“Life with Brach had always been hard. But his obsession with revolution made him insufferable. He came to expect that I share his madness, do to others what he’d done to me. That’s when I came to see Mr. Wilkinson to explore my options.”
“Didn’t like what you saw?”
“To his credit, Henry was honest about how exposed he and the Iron Horse were becoming, though he did mention that he’d begun to cultivate a promising successor, who he hoped might help him renew the ward.”
“Henry didn’t tell you it was me?”
“He kept that to himself,” she said, “ just as he kept my visit private. Do you have any idea what would have happened to me if Brach had found out I’d contemplated leaving him and the Shiguan?”
“I can guess,” I said.
“No, I don’t think you can.” She waved a gloved hand to indicate she was done with her story.
“You know,” I said, “when I revealed Brach’s scar, I caught a look inside your shadow.”
She drew smoke. “Is that so?”
“Pretty sure I saw a hint of the same wound Brach was carrying.” She stared at me, her cigarillo burning between us.
I didn’t need to peer into her shadow again to see the betrayal. I knew that look. “You left the Iron Horse that day with a new idea. Not to escape Brach, but to take his place.”
She nodded. “Once things were in motion . . . I do wish I’d tried to stop it.”
“Henry trusted you because he thought you needed help, and you twisted that trust into a plot to kill us both.”
“Brach needed what only the Ward’s death could give him.” Emaline shrugged. “He’d coveted it for a very long time. The Iron Horse protections had just always been too strong.”
I hated how casual she was about it all. “But then you learned the ward was failing, and you helped him see that if Henry was out of the way, he could weaken her and take her song.”
Emaline said nothing. This woman whom I’d empathized with, fought beside, and started to fall for was the one truly responsible for Henry’s death. I thought I might be sick.
She tapped her ashes again. “I guess I didn’t think it would get that far.” “No, because you planned to sell him out to Convocation and the
Chancery. He gets boxed, you take over. You’re no longer the slave. You’re the master.”
“It’s true I have my own ambitions,” she admitted, “but it’s also true that I couldn’t live that life anymore. And I didn’t agree with the way Brach was pursuing his revolution. So, I made a choice.”
I got very close to her. “You killed Henry.” “Henry was a good man. He will be missed.”
“Yes, he will. And I guess that puts an end to our friendship.” For sure, but I did feel a pang for it—somehow, I was still drawn to her.
She held my gaze. “Perhaps. Do consider, though, that I could have done less to help you with your ward, or even maneuvered to take it myself. But I didn’t, because I appreciate what it does for you and your people. None of which means, mind you, that the revolution is over.”
“Which means what?”
“Brach’s part is done,” she said, “and he was a catalyzing influence, to be sure. But his followers still clamor for reprisal against topsiders. And you shouldn’t forget that half the chancery still favors revolt.
You’ve won peace for now, Jack, but there are many paths to revolution.
For my part, I won’t ever again yield to someone who would seek to control me with lies .
. . and that includes your topside world. ”
I shook my head. “Kind of ironic. You saying that to me.” She smiled.
I wanted to gut her with my khopesh right there on the street. Of course, she was protected by the ward. “Turns out you’re every bit the daughter Brach always wanted.”
She tamped out her smoke against the wall. “Let us say our goodbyes before we spoil what rapport we have.”
“Just one more thing,” I said. “Brach was holding a child, Madam’s son. Get the boy back to her, or I’ll tell the Convocation about your part in Henry’s death.”
“Not that they’d have an ear for it, but what a lovely gesture. I’ll see to it.” She extended a hand, as though we’d concluded a business transaction.
“I think I’ll pass,” I said.
That seemed to piss her off. I knew from all my historical reading that it was better to keep your enemies close.
But with her, I didn’t care. I was done.
And standing back here where we’d first met, I suddenly remembered the dowsing stone that was still in my pocket. I dug it out and held it toward her.
“You can keep this,” I said. “My guess is it works both ways. Nice tracking device. But since we won’t be having any more meetings . . .”
She took the stone, said “Until next time,” and glided away down Manette Street.
That left me alone in relative silence, which I still hated. Needed some music. As I turned back to the Horse, Lakshmi appeared at the corner of the alley.
“Everything all right?” she asked, crossing toward me. “You keeping tabs?”
“Just happened to be in the area.”
“Right,” I said. “Come on in for a few minutes. Everyone’s here.”
We walked back in to find Church’s table empty. So, we ducked through the velvet curtain into the venue side, where our friends were watching Nightwish, who was about to start their set.
Tuomas saw me come in and waved me to the stage. I hadn’t planned on singing, but several of the regulars began to insist. Church, Lady, Kincaid, and Chuey among them.
“Go on, lad,” said Church.
“It’s no Buck ’N’ Bull,” Lakshmi said with a grin, “but I’d stay to hear you sing.”
I pulled Henry’s field manual from my pocket and handed it to Chuey. “Hold on to this, then. And don’t lose it.”
As I made my way onstage and looked out at all my friends—some of whom I didn’t even know yet—I knew I was in the right place.
I also knew I still had a lot to learn about this thanaturgic world.
There were secrets lingering in the Endless Dark and all throughout the Strata.
But I had people to lean on. People who weren’t going away.
And they were more than a third option. They were family.
I’d found my new band, sure enough. Henry had been right, and it had been staring me in the face the whole time.
“What’s it going to be?” Tuomas asked.
Thoughts swirled in my head: my old dreams, my rebirth, this whole new world of shadow, the beauty and pain I’d seen in so many souls. And Henry.
“Remember ‘Behind Blue Eyes’?” Tuomas and I had worked out our own version of it a few years back as a surprise for Henry.
“Of course,” Tuomas said.
I grabbed the mic and found Chuey in the crowd.
He put his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Your voice sucks!” Always loved hearing that.
Kai called out a four count, and the band launched into a powerful rendition of Henry’s song.
I eased myself into the groove, remembering how he and I used to sing this one together.
I still hoped to write more songs of my own someday, but just then, all I wanted was to crank up this one, remember my fallen friends, and share this night with my family.
Because music was back at the Iron Horse.