Chapter 9: Do You Know What a God Is?
This crone, Enya, was his only lead. She was the sole person who knew where Diavolo had gone, and Jonas was not about to let that slip through his fingers. He needed answers, and he needed them now.
Sensing his hesitation, Enya put on a pitiful display, sighing dramatically. "Very well, if you won't help, then I suppose it can't be helped. A poor, lonely old woman like me will just have to make her way home alone in the dark..."
Jonas stared at her, exasperated. After a moment's internal debate, he relented. He was a man who stood six-foot-five. What did he have to fear from a frail, old woman?
He took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll walk you home," he said. "On the condition that you tell me everything you know about that man."
A look of pure delight washed over Enya's face. She nodded eagerly, as if terrified he would change his mind. In truth, her motives were far more sinister. She was luring Jonas away to fulfill her master's command: to create more Stand users for Lord DIO. Once they were on her territory, she could pierce him with the Arrow. If he survived and awakened a Stand, he would be another fine addition to Lord DIO's growing army.
And why choose Jonas? It was simply a matter of convenience. The man was desperate for information, making him an easy target for her manipulation.
And so, the two of them, each with their own secret, treacherous intentions, set off into the night.
The sun finally sank below the horizon, plunging the path into darkness. Ominous clouds drifted across the sky, periodically obscuring the faint moonlight. Enya held up a kerosene lamp, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows as they walked.
After some time, Jonas noticed thin wisps of fog beginning to curl around his feet. The further they walked, the denser the fog became, until visibility was reduced to less than a yard. A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. This was no natural fog. It felt... deliberate. As if it were created specifically to blind him.
"Do not be afraid," Enya rasped, her voice cutting through the silence. "This is quite normal. This area is known for its thick evening fog."
Jonas didn't believe a word of it. He was on high alert, ready to summon his Stand at a moment's notice.
They walked on, and soon, faint points of light appeared in the oppressive gloom. As they drew closer, Jonas realized they had entered a small, desolate town. He could make out the shapes of houses and the figures of a few residents, who were shambling through the darkness with strange, limping gaits. As he passed them, a faint, cloying smell of decay filled his nostrils.
"These are the residents of this humble town," Enya explained.
Jonas watched them closely, and then he saw it. A live lizard suddenly darted out of one resident's ear and slithered directly into their open mouth.
Jonas's reaction was a single, sharp, internal thought: "What the F#%K?!"
He no longer trusted a single word from Enya's mouth. Behind his back, he discreetly summoned his Stand. Black particles coalesced in his palm, and in an instant, [Invisible Black Monster: Maw] materialized. The faint light from the street lamps cast long shadows from the shambling townsfolk. Maw approached one of the shadows, sniffed it, and recoiled with a grimace of disgust.
There was something fundamentally wrong with these people's shadows. Something wrong with this entire town.
Enya continued to lead the way, seemingly oblivious to Jonas's actions. He watched the villagers with a heavy gaze. Their eyes were vacant, lifeless, like corpses walking. Yet, they were all staring at him, their gazes fixed on him as if he were a prime cut of meat.
He quickened his pace to keep up with Enya, secretly gesturing for Maw to hide. The creature understood and scurried up his leg, concealing itself within his clothing.
Enya's "home" turned out to be a massive, opulent hotel, a structure whose grandeur was completely at odds with the dilapidated town surrounding it. Inside, she led him to a formal reception hall, bringing out a pot of tea and two cups. As she sat down, the confrontation officially began.
By the faint light of a single candle, she poured him a cup, then one for herself. Jonas had no intention of drinking it. Who knew what she might have put in it? He didn't trust it, even after watching her take a sip herself.
He decided to cut to the chase. "Can you tell me where Diavolo is now?"
Enya waved a dismissive, bony hand. "Patience, young man. If I tell you now, what's to stop you from simply leaving? Besides," she added, "I don't even know your name."
Jonas sighed internally. "It's Jonas."
Suddenly, Enya lifted her head and sniffed the air. Her gaze shifted to his travel bag. "Is that... strong spirits I smell?" she asked.
"I have a bottle of liquor in my bag, yes," he explained.
Her curiosity satisfied, she didn't press the matter. Drunks were a common sight in this world.
Jonas decided to probe her further. "You mentioned your son is in France. Is he there for work?"
"Oh, him," she said, her voice suddenly softening. "He's just there for a holiday. My dear, sweet boy... always such a playful spirit, even now." As she spoke of her son, a switch was flipped. She became animated, her voice filled with a doting affection that seemed entirely genuine. A gentle, grandmotherly smile graced her lips.
But then, just as suddenly, tears began to well up in her ancient eyes. "Oh, my precious boy!" she cried, her voice cracking with sorrow. "Why hasn't he come back to see his poor, lonely mother?!"
Jonas listened to her lamentations, his expression unchanging. It wasn't that he lacked sympathy, but a powerful sense of caution had completely overtaken his emotions. This town, its residents... everything was wrong. He had to be prepared for an attack from any direction, at any time.
Abruptly, Enya's tears stopped. Her face became a mask of grim seriousness. She stared at him, her eyes boring into his.
"Jonas... do you know what a god is?"
"A god? I'm not a religious man."
"This has nothing to do with religion," she hissed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I speak of a being so magnificent that one cannot help but worship them from the very depths of one's soul."
"And what? You've met one?" Jonas asked, his face falling. So, the old crone really was just a crazy fortune-teller, spouting theological nonsense.
"Yes," she breathed, her eyes glazing over with a fanatical light. "He is so beautiful! So powerful! I would gladly offer up my very life in his service!" Her expression twisted into one of ecstatic madness.
"I see," Jonas said, his gaze shifting to one of pity. The old woman was completely insane.
"I am telling you this so that you may cast aside your pointless wandering!" she shrieked. "Offer up everything you are to HIM!"
In a flash, she produced the Stand Arrow from her robes and lunged, aiming the sharp point directly at his neck.
Jonas reacted instantly, his hand shooting up to grab the wooden shaft just as the tip was centimeters from his flesh. He was shocked by her strength. She possessed a raw, wiry power that no elderly woman should have. She could have held her own in a professional fighting tournament.
Seeing her first attack fail, Enya's other hand shot out, brandishing a pair of long, sharp scissors, stabbing at his arm.
"NOW!" Jonas yelled.
Maw shot out from his collar, its small, dense body slamming into the scissors with the force of a cannonball.
CLANG!
The sound of metal striking something impossibly hard rang out. The scissors were knocked off course, the sharp blades only grazing Jonas's arm, but still leaving a thin, bloody line in their wake.