SECTION 14
“All right, Katyrina,” I state, as forcefully as I can. “You’re on. You have my soul if you want it. If it’s the only way for me to get to Amber, then I’ll do it.” Part of me is beginning to disbelieve this whole scene. Skeptical as I’ve been about my mission all along, even though I’ve always felt I was right, I am having a hard time accepting Katyrina’s role and my willingness to surrender my soul. But if none of this is really happening, I won’t be losing anything, and if it is happening, then I have much to gain. If it gets me to Amber, it should be worth it.
“This is really important to you, isn’t it?” she asks in response. “You truly think you can take a handful of men to Amber and do something significant.” Her tone is less mocking than sympathetic, and I detect in it a note of awe.
Surprising myself, I notice that her reaction matters to me. “Yes,” I offer, “it’s that important.” After a long pause, I ask my inevitable question. “How do I surrender my soul?” I add, as an afterthought and an attempt at humor, “I’ve never done it before.”
Nobody laughs.
With no hint of a smile, no sign of mockery, no suggestion of denigration, Katyrina Emerson turns her brilliant eyes on me and states, “You’ve already done it.” Stunned, I watch as she walks towards me and takes my left hand in her right, and I listen unbelievingly as she says, her voice betraying a sudden tenderness, “Come with me now, Derek, and I will send you to Amber.”
I jerk my hand away. “What do you mean, I’ve already done it? I haven’t done anything. I mean, don’t I have to sign a document or something? Or get operated on? Or swear fealty to some god or another? Anything like that?” My face must be contorted with my questions, because Katyrina laughs as I speak.
“You mean signing your name in blood, as in Dr. Faustus? Or clicking your heels and twirling around three times? That sort of thing?” I nod, and she explains, “No, Derek, none of that is necessary. It’s a nice dramatic touch of course, and it emphasizes the importance of your surrender, but giving away one’s soul is much easier than that. All you have to do is mean what you say when you give it.
“It’s not like offering it to the person you’re in love with. That’s just melodrama, something designed totally for effect, even if you really do love the person that much. What you’ve done here is to show your willingness to sacrifice yourself for someone else. You don’t even have any idea what I intend to do with your soul, and still you were willing to do it. If you’d really been a Faustlike person, I would have taken the soul, but I wouldn’t have wanted it. I don’t like selfish people, and neither do those in charge. As corny as it sounds, even in this day and age, self-sacrifice is a thing of honor. So you’ve given me your soul already. I promise to keep it well.”
Stopping, I lose myself for a minute in thought. Finally, I say, “But I don’t feel any different. I still think the same things and hold the same beliefs. All those things that a soul is good for. What have I lost by surrendering it?” It’s true. I can notice no difference whatsoever.
“Look, Derek,” Katyrina replies, “I don’t intend to sit here and explain what souls are. I don’t have time, and, frankly, I don’t really know. But they aren’t what you seem to think they are. Let’s just say that you’ve given me yourself—your essence, if you will—to do with as I please. I said earlier that it would fetch a good price, and it will. But I haven’t decided yet what to do with it.”
“When will I notice it?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “You won’t. When it happens, you’ll be beyond knowing. That’s why you haven’t felt anything yet. If I change your essence, you will never notice it at all. You’ll just become the person I make of you.”
“Then I haven’t really surrendered anything.”
“Practically speaking, no. But spiritually speaking, you’ve done it all. Now, would you please come with me. You have a long journey ahead of you. Gather your men and follow me.” She strides off into the living room, and Tom calls the others to the top of the stair. Pausing for a second, Katyrina opens the bedroom door.
Inside, a dull blue illuminates a room with no furniture. Opposite me is a window, but thick Venetian blinds cover it completely, keeping the blue light out of sight of the street. On the walls hang tapestries of various hues and sizes, the scenes on them ranging from smoking volcanoes to knights in black armor to black clouds thick with snow.
On the floor is a series of lines and boxes, all of them connected and all of them differently colored. Katyrina begins to walk through the pattern, motioning for us to follow her. We do as she has asked, each of us marveling at the zigzagging she does, each of us wondering if the route she is taking is in any way necessary. But as we near the center of the room, I see where she is headed. Only a few feet ahead is a small circular door with a notch carved into the center. A little larger than a manhole cover, the circular door clearly leads down.
Katyrina reaches for the notch and pulls up. It opens slowly to one side and stands perpendicular to the floor. Once it is open, I peer down through the hole. Only blackness greets me.
“What’s all this?” I ask. “Where does this lead?”
“To Amber,” Katyrina replies. “That is where you want to go, isn’t it?” To my nod, she adds, “Of course, the door leading down isn’t exactly necessary, but as a piece of staging it’s very effective. Do you recognize what this room is modeled after?” The smile on her face is enchanting even in my fear.
“No,” I mumble. “Not at all.”
“Strange,” she says, almost to herself. “I’d have thought you would.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation, “The film version of Dr. Faustus. With Burton and Taylor. Do you remember it? I always thought it was very effective, so I adopted the idea.”
Of course. Richard Burton as the doctor who sold his soul to the devil, about to descend into hell in payment. A man beyond all hope of redemption, a man unable to understand the enormity of the consequences of his actions. A grotesque, ugly, huge hole in the middle of the room, with Mephistopheles drawing him down into hell. All in all, one of the most frightening movie scenes I remember. Half in curiosity and half in terror, I look down into the hole.
For a full minute I see nothing. Then, suddenly, a blackness begins to roil toward me, carrying with it the horrendous stench of rotting and burning flesh. I stagger, and begin to turn away. But something is holding me, something that will not let me go, and against my will I stand rooted to my place. Up, ever up, the blackness rolls on, and as it comes, my brain goes dark. As the reek of death carries me beyond consciousness, I fight for one last look into the dark. There, below me, hideous outside the realm of human acceptance, a vision of chaos swims before my eyes. Screaming, I fall inside, and hear the screams of my comrades as I fall, all of them but voices in the unrelenting dark.
Turn to Section 18.