He had not intended to go this route. His Siqqusim were still engaged on another level. His plan had been to slowly gain the trust of Frankie and the rest of the Seven, before revealing himself to them, and once again making an offer to join forces. If Nodens turned his eye toward him, it would appear that Ob had infiltrated their ranks. He Who Shall Not Be Named would have no inkling of Ob’s real agenda.

  Unfortunately, the medical staff had quickly determined the obvious—that Bloom’s body was dead. No pulse, no breathing, no brain activity. And yet, there was. Ob could draw breath with Bloom’s lungs. He resided inside Bloom’s brain, in that empty space usually occupied by the soul. As he had done countless times over the millennia, he cursed his kind’s inability to make their host body’s heart work on its own. They could make it beat, of course, but not enough to feign life. Like the other muscles in the human body, there were limitations to their mastery.

  Once his charade had been discovered, he’d leaned forward and bit through the doctor’s jugular vein with Bloom’s teeth, and then quickly killed the two nurses, as well, before they could react and sound the alarm.

  He stared at an empty space between himself and the wall, and opened a doorway into the Labyrinth. Then he spoke.

  “Estemos.”

  Then, he waited.

  Within minutes, three disembodied Siqqusim flowed through the portal. They were invisible to Bloom’s eyes, and yet Ob felt their presence. They quickly inhabited the three dead bodies, and then climbed to their feet.

  “Hail Ob, the Obot,” the doctor rasped. “Lord of the Si—”

  Ob raised Bloom’s hand and gestured impatiently. “Yes, yes. Enough of that.”

  The zombie fell silent. All three stared at him expectantly.

  With another wave of his hand, Ob closed the portal, ensuring that more of his forces would not come through.

  “I summoned the three of you to help me engage in some subterfuge. There’s a young woman in a room nearby. A woman we have encountered before. She does not yet know that I have taken possession of this body. We need to keep it that way. My plan depends on it.”

  The nurse to his left blinked. “Your plan, lord?”

  “The destruction of the Seven, of course. Just as He Who Shall Not Be Named has decreed.”

  He smiled again, not daring to verbalize his real motive, just in case Nodens was listening. His ultimate goal was to use the Seven to achieve his own ascension into Heaven, where he would take his rightful place on the Creator’s throne, and remake the universe in his image.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s get to work. And we’re going to have to figure out how to hide that hole in your throat.”

  DESPITE ALL OF the noise coming from beyond the confines of her room, the approaching footsteps caught Frankie’s attention. The shuffling gait stood out in marked contrast to everything else.

  The curtain was pulled back, allowing her a quick glimpse of the choked corridor, and the pandemic patients lined up on gurneys. Then, her view was blocked as a doctor entered the room, followed by a nurse. Frankie was certain that neither of them had attended her when she was first admitted to the emergency room. The doctor was an Indian man in either his late-thirties or early-forties, and he would have been remarkably handsome except for his scrubs, which were splattered with blood. Oddly, the stains seemed fresh, glistening wetly under the bright hospital lights. Even stranger was the surgical masks he wore around his neck. She counted three or four of them. Frankie frowned, wondering what their purpose was.

  Then it occurred to her that those masks around his neck were the only protective gear either of these professionals were wearing. Since she and Bloom had entered this building, everyone—every doctor, nurse, and patient—had at the very least worn a face mask.

  The nurse snapped the curtain closed behind her.

  “Miss Rogers?” the doctor asked.

  Frankie nodded. “That’s me. Shouldn’t those be up over your face and nose?”

  He blinked in obvious confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Your face masks,” Frankie explained. “They’re not doing much good hanging around your neck.”

  The two glanced at each other and then back to Frankie. The doctor smiled.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Is it? I thought there was a pandemic going on? Everybody’s been freaking out about it since I got here. Like, they’re ready to lock people up if they ain’t wearing a mask.”

  Again, that look of confusion clouded the doctor’s expression. Frankie studied him closely, and her stomach slowly sank. She recognized something there. She glanced at the nurse, and her dread only deepened.

  “Miss Rogers,” the doctor said, “we’re here to tell you that—”

  “What’s your name? You didn’t introduce yourself. Doctors usually do that.”

  He paused. “I am Doctor Guptik.”

  “You cut yourself shaving this morning? You’re covered in blood.”

  The pair exchanged a look again, and before they could speak, Frankie cleared her throat.

  “I know what you are. Both of you.”

  The nurse blinked in surprise. “Miss Rogers?”

  “You motherfuckers try so hard. You hide inside our bodies. You can access our memories like a teenager pulling up porn on the internet. You can walk and talk and run and drive cars and all the other shit that we do...but you’re not us. You know what gives you away each and every time? Partly it’s the voice. Yeah, sure—all of you may speak with your host body’s vocal cords, but you don’t sound human. There’s always something that’s just a little bit off.”

  The doctor’s grin turned into a grimace. The nurse slowly edged around to the side of her bed.

  “But mostly it’s your eyes,” Frankie continued. “Your eyes are always dead. Soulless. And bitch, you can stay right the fuck there. Don’t think I don’t see you trying to flank me.”

  “Our lord was correct,” the doctor said to the nurse. “She is clever. Meat, but clever meat.”

  “Your lord? That would be Ob. Where is he? Motherfucker too scared to show his face?”

  The curtain swished open, and Bloom stepped through, followed by another nurse.

  “Hello, Frankie,” Ob said. “I see we’ve dispensed with the charade.”

  Her eyes went wide. She clawed the bedsheets in her fists. “Oh no. Not Bloom...”

  “Correct,” Ob said. “I’m not Bloom. Your friend is gone, and let me tell you, he died in confusion. But I am all that he was. And thanks to him, I’ve learned some new tricks, believe it or not. He had some areas of expertise that I’ve never been exposed to across the millennia.”

  Frankie tensed herself to lunge, but the zombies were faster. The doctor and the first nurse charged forward, grabbing her arms and restraining her. Grinning, Ob stepped closer. Then he reached out and gently touched her cheek with one hand.

  “The Touch of Haptha, for example. I know from Bloom’s memories that you’ve seen this used before. In Iraq, during your confrontation with Kandara. So, you know that you can’t move now.”

  Frankie gaped, unable to scream as Ob loomed over her.

  “Relax,” Ob told her, smiling again with Bloom’s mouth. “We’re not going to hurt you. And that speaks truth to my intentions, because I should hurt you, Frankie. More than any other human being, you have become a sore spot for me. Tergax, the first priest of the Black Lodge in Philomontia, Rogan, Jesus Christ, the Moor Witch, Levi Stoltzfus...none of them have been as troublesome and insulting to me as you. Of course, Rogan and Tergax and the witch died countless centuries ago, and the Christ is trapped in his infinite sacrificial loop, and now Stoltzfus is dead across the Labyrinth. The smart thing to do would be to kill you now, right here, and blot you from existence the way Stoltzfus has been, but I need you. We need each other.”

  Frankie tried to respond, but couldn’t.

  He closed Bloom’s eyes and moved Bloom’s hands in an intricate series of gestures. Then he turned to the nurse to Frankie’s left, just out of her line of sight.

  “I’ll need blood from your host. I don’t want to damage mine. this is the best body I’ve had since the fat man, and I’d like to keep it a while.”

  “Yes, lord,” the nurse replied.

  He turned back to Frankie. “The fat man would have been a good vessel, but I didn’t inhabit him for long. Ask your friend Tony about it. I have a bone to pick with him, as well.”

  Ob moved out of Frankie’s vision. She heard him rummaging through drawers and cabinets. While he was occupied, she fought to break the spell, willing her body to move, but it was useless. Her heart still beat, and her lungs still breathed, but the rest of her body was paralyzed. It was the singularly most terrifying sensation she had ever experienced—far more terrifying than the fear that came from abusive johns and murderous dealers, or the horrors she’d experienced during the Rising, or even her death and rebirth at the hands of Amun.

  Despite her panic, Frankie’s thoughts then turned to Bloom. She’d interacted with the Siqqusim too many times to think that there was any possibility that her friend was still alive. No. He was gone. His soul had fled this body and Ob had moved in. She remembered Amun and Lucifer warning them that if they died in these incarnations, they’d be dead across all levels of the Labyrinth. That was because these bodies were their final, condensed forms. She wondered what that meant for Bloom’s soul. Had it moved on to wherever souls went when people died? Or was it now nonexistent, as well?

  Ob moved back into view, clutching a scalpel. The overhead lights reflected off the shiny metal surface of the blade. He moved just out of sight again, and she heard wet sounds, and saw a splash of blood. This was followed by a thump. Then, both Ob and the nurse came into view again. The latter’s throat had been gouged wide, and blood jetted from the wound.

  “Stop your host’s heart,” Ob said. “The blood is coming out too fast!”

  The nurse’s mouth moved in response, but made no sound. A moment later the blood flow slowed to a trickle.

  “That’s better.” Ob plunged both hands into the wound, brought them out, and then began to fingerpaint a complex magical formula on the floor. He glanced up at the other nurse. “Guard the door. It wouldn’t do to have anyone else barging in right now.”

  The third Siqqusim walked across the room, went through the curtain, and then presumably positioned themselves on the other side. Ob and the other zombie disappeared from her sight again. Judging by the sounds, Frankie guessed that they were finishing the magic circle.

  She tuned in again to the sounds of the hospital, hoping that some curious staffer might check in on her, but then she remembered how busy and seemingly overwhelmed they had been. Help was probably not forthcoming. And even if a staffer did stumble upon them, the zombies would kill whoever it was before they could raise an alarm. No, if she was going to get out of this, she’d have to do it herself.

  But first she’d have to regain her ability to move.

  Ob came back into view again, and leaned close to her.

  “There,” he said, “that’s done. Now we can talk without He Who Shall Not Be Named overhearing us. An incredibly hard feat to pull off, and one I’ve never been able to master until now. Yes indeed, I like this new body.”

  Frankie felt a tear slide down her cheek. She wanted to scream, but her mouth remained paralyzed.

  “Don’t cry,” Ob whispered in mock sincerity. “I told you before, I’m not going to hurt you. I have an offer. It’s one I’ve tried to explain to you and your companions before, but Nelson ran away, and you killed me before I could finish telling you, so...this time, no interruptions. My plan is simple. I want to help the rest of you defeat the other Thirteen and restore balance to the Labyrinth. But to do that, we’ll also have to kill the Creator.”

  Frankie could only stare in despair as Ob continued.

  “My kind...we say that our number is more than the stars, more than infinity. But that is a boast. Swagger. The truth is, like everything else in the universe, our number is finite. The stars are finite. The number of levels are finite. And we are finite. Such calculations are beyond the comprehension or ability of your kind, but they are true, regardless. Still, there are enough Siqqusim to swarm your pitiful planet, and all the other planets across the Labyrinth.”

  Ob began to pace back and forth as he spoke, crossing Bloom’s hands casually behind his back.

  “Ah Frankie, you should have seen our original home. An entire solar system of gas giants, similar to your Jupiter, but larger in size and number. We lived there, incorporeal, having cast off our shells and transcended the confines of matter eons before. Our civilization was marvelous. Beautiful. Peaceful.” He paused, seeming to reflect for a moment. “Peace. That is not something I have experienced in a very long time. Not since the Creator vaporized our planets with a wave of His hand, reverting everything we’d ever known back down to the base atoms. We escaped the destruction, of course. But we were homeless. Can you imagine what that was like? To see your entire civilization wiped out and perverted?”

  Frankie glared at him again. Ob grinned.

  “Yes, I suppose you can. But Frankie, you must understand. Yourselves, and everything you have—it was all made possible by the Creator, and built using what He stole from us. We are simply re-paying in kind. I would say it’s nothing personal, but it is deeply personal. Devouring this universe, and all the others like it, is the most personal thing we have ever done. But it is war, not peace. And we are tired. I am tired. I would like to feel peace again. So would your kind. That’s what you’re fighting for, after all. That’s why the Seven of you were summoned—to stop myself, and my brothers, and He Who Shall Not Be Named’s other lieutenants. But you’ll never win, Frankie. Surely, you see that, right? You’ve faced two of us so far—Kandara and Behemoth. And it’s cost your group two members already. Lucifer and Bloom are gone. There are still ten of us left, plus our individual armies. You don’t have the numbers. It’s simple math. Not to mention a new threat has risen, unknown to you and your group. While you’ve been galivanting around the Labyrinth, the forces of Hell itself have taken advantage of the confusion and declared war on Heaven itself. The angels that are left cannot stand against them. And you already know that the Creator cannot either, in His present condition. That leaves you, and Tony, Nelson, Teddy, and the Exit. You have no hope of simultaneously fighting both the Thirteen and Hell. You need an army of your own. I—and only I—can provide that army.”

  He stepped back from her, and stared, tilting Bloom’s head to the side.

  “We are safe here. As I said, He Who Shall Not Be Named cannot hear or see us at this brief moment in time. He sits there, my master, in the center of the Labyrinth, squatting like a cancerous tumor, sending his tendrils across the levels, and very little escapes his gaze. But we are invisible, right now. The only way he could see or hear us would be if we summoned him by speaking his name aloud. But neither of us will do that, will we, Frankie? No, we won’t. Because despite what you might think, we both want the same thing. You want to save the universe—save your species. I want to save my species, as well. But mostly, we both want peace. Together, we can achieve just that, Frankie. We can make it happen. My proposal is just that. We work together—the Seven and the Siqqusim. We defeat He Who Shall Not Be Named, the Thirteen, the Creator, and the combined forces of Heaven and Hell. When it’s over, all I ask is that my people be given one of those two realms—Heaven or Hell. Only they are big enough to hold all of us. As for you and your kind? You’ll have finally achieved something that humanity has strived for since its first breath—independence. You can start over, free of cosmic meddling, and forge a universe on your own.”

  He turned away from her, disappeared from sight, and then returned with a scalpel.

  “Now, in a moment, I will release you. You will be able to move and speak freely. When you do, take care not to break the circle we are standing in. Doing so would reveal us to He Who Shall Not Be Named. I’ll expect your answer. And Frankie?”

  He stepped closer, and Frankie noticed that Bloom had already begun to smell different. He didn’t stink. Not yet. But he didn’t smell alive anymore, either.

  Ob whispered in her ear. “I meant what I said about not wanting to hurt you. It is the truth, as is everything else I’ve told you. I’m being sincere. But with that in mind, if your answer is no? Well, I can’t risk you revealing my plot. Were you to tell your friends, and were He Who Shall Not Be Named happen to overhear it? Well, I don’t need to tell you the consequences. So...I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you force me to. The good news is that it will be quick. I’ll grant you that. But I recommend you go with the alternative. Let’s work together, because from where I stand, you really don’t have a choice.”

  He touched her shoulder, moved his fingers in a sort of massage, and then stepped back. Frankie felt how tense every muscle in her body was, and twitched. She gasped at the sensation.

  “There,” Ob said. “You can move again. But take it slowly.”

  Nodding, Frankie lowered her head and slowly rubbed each of her wrists. Then she stretched each leg, and twisted her head from side to side. Her joints popped loudly. A medical alarm rang beyond the curtain, and a doctor was paged over the intercom. As the announcement faded, she glanced up at Ob.

  “So,” he said, spreading his hands wide, but still clutching the scalpel. “What do you say? Shall we work together?”

  “I’ve got two things to say,” Frankie replied. “The first, is...fuck you!”

  She sprang from the gurney, pushing off with all her strength, and lunged at him. Ob’s eyes widened in surprise. He swung the scalpel, but Frankie dodged the strike and shoved him backward. As he stumbled out of the circle of protection, his footprints tracked blood all over the floor. His eyes widened even further, and Frankie felt a surge of elation at the terror she saw mirrored there. Smiling, she stepped out of the circle of protection, drew in a deep breath, balled her fists at her side, and spoke again.