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The Shonin smiles. It cracks his dry cheeks.
“Magic, dummy. You don’t read it. You drink it. Each potion is a page of powerful old knowledge. The right bastard could kill the world with what’s in here. Good thing it’s a trap.”
“What does that mean?”
The Shonin puts his hand back on the wooden box.
“Each potion is a page. And each page is a different poison. See the trap? You gain vast power and knowledge from a book like this, but when you have all of it, it kills you. It’s genius, don’t you think? It keeps deep, world-altering magic out of the hands of people like you.”
That’s what the Shonin has been scribbling. Poison wisdom from a killer book.
“I get it. That’s why Wells wanted you on this case. He knew about the book or knew about something like it. Something that would kill a regular magician. So he hired himself a dead one so it wouldn’t work on him.”
The Shonin sits down again.
“But it is working. I told you, this is old magic. Stuff from when the world was young. Not like the flashy stuff you magicians do today. This is the magic of continents dividing and life moving from the sea onto land. Powerful enough to kill even a dead man.”
“Then why is Wells letting you read it? Drink it? Whatever the hell you’re doing with it.”
“Because it’s necessary. Why do you think I worry, working with such a fathead? I won’t be here for the end. But you will be, and all these poor fools will rely on someone who’d rather be eating pork chops.”
“And all you do is make fat jokes when you should be teaching me about these things. Like, if the Angra can’t get through to us, what about Lamia? I talked to her. She appeared as a demented little kid, but she still managed to murder a lot of people.”
The Shonin nods impatiently.
“Her real name is Aswangana. What you saw was like a demon version of the goddess. Not all of her broke through to this dimension, but enough so she was smarter and more powerful than ordinary Qliphoth. What you defeated was a fragment of her essence. Do you believe you could do that to a full Angra?”
“I’m not stupid enough to think that.”
“Good. You know something after all.”
“The Angra sound a little like Hellions. They can’t break out of Hell into this world, but they can influence the world through their worshipers and using the possession key. But they’re no closer to bringing the Angra back than anyone on Earth.”
“I’m trying to learn how to destroy the Qomrama. If it can be destroyed,” says the Shonin. “I don’t have much more faith in the Vigil than I have in you. If things go badly, destroying it might be the only way to save the universe.”
“Have you found anything?”
He gets up and goes to the magnetic chamber holding the 8 Ball.
“No. I don’t think it can be destroyed. Gods made it. Only a God can unmake it.”
“What about Mr. Muninn? He’s a piece of God. Maybe I should take it to him.”
The Shonin laughs his rattling laugh.
“Your God is so broken up he can barely wipe his own ass. You think he can destroy this?”
He’s probably right. If Muninn or any of the other God brothers could kill the 8 Ball or the Angra, they would have done it by now. Especially Ruach, the only part of God left in Heaven. Blind and half deaf, he has it in for all the other brothers.
“Maybe I should take it to him. Just to see.”
“No,” says the Shonin. “It doesn’t leave here. There’s something to be done with it and I’ll find it out.”
I stand next to him at the magnetic chamber.
“What about the Tears of Gihon? That’s a potion that’s supposed to cure all poisons.”
“I know what it is,” says the Shonin quietly. “It won’t work. I’ll drink a hundred different poisons by the end. I’ll be too weak for any cure, from this world or Heaven.”
