Dead Jack and the Soul Catcher: (Volume 2)

by James Aquilone

  “There’s a way out?” Zara asked.

  “I found it in one of the tunnels, a pair of doors, but there’s no way to open them. When I tried to break it down, Lucifer found out and cut off one of my legs.” The spider raised its shortened rearmost left leg.

  “You’re in luck, pally,” I said.

  “You have a spare spider leg on you? I would give anything to have my leg back.”

  “No, we’re experts in magic.”

  The spider rolled all eight of his eyes. “Like you’re an expert in demonology? Geez.”

  “Zara here is a witch and Wally is Pandemonium’s finest wizard.”

  “Did all the other wizards in Pandemonium die?”

  “He’s the best. Trust me.”

  “And what are you?”

  “Dead Jack, zombie P.I.”

  “Pandemonium has really gone to piss, it seems. Maybe I should stay here.”

  “Pandemonium is the same shithole it’s ever been, but it’s a thousand times better than this place. Take us to the doors. If we can open them, you can start a new life. Find opportunity, your true calling. The career of your dreams. If we can’t, eat us. What do you have to lose?”

  “Another leg.”

  “You have like ten.”

  “Spiders have eight legs, you fookin idiot.”

  “I know a great place for espresso in Downtown ShadowShade.”

  The spider gave it a moment of thought. “If you don’t open the doors, I will devour each of you slowly, a strip of flesh a year.”

  Syd used his fangs to cut away my bindings.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” I said.

  After the spider freed me, it went to work on Zara and Wally.

  “What about me?” Garry asked.

  “We’re not going to have time to put you back together,” I said, while collecting Garry’s bones.

  “I can’t stay like this.”

  I wrapped the bones in Garry’s empty zoot suit, placed his head on top of the suit, and held him against my chest.

  “Just don’t mess up my hair, Jack. The dampness is destroying the texture.”

  Syd let out a loud whistle. As it faded, another sound―like the tik-tik-tik but magnified a thousand fold―echoed throughout the underground level. The pit filled with thousands of tiny shadows. The little patches of black flittered up from the rocks and poured out of the walls and ceiling. They gathered at our feet.

  I looked down. There had to be at least ten thousand regular-sized spiders in the pit.

  “I can’t leave behind my children,” Syd said.

  “You’re a woman?” I asked. I didn’t have to wonder what’s creepier―one giant spider or a thousand baby spiders―because I was facing both. Lucky me.

  “Sydney Spinhook’s my full name.”

  “Are we finally leaving?” the baby spiders asked in unison. It sounded like a swarm of locusts.

  “Yes, children,” Syd said. “You have Uncle Jack to thank.”

  The baby spiders turned to me. “Uncle Jack,” they hissed, and ran up my legs and onto my chest and arms. “Uncle Jack! Thank you!”

  I screamed.

  “Come on, the tunnel isn’t far.” Syd climbed out of the pit and scuttled into one of the many passageways carved through the stone. Wally crept behind the spider, holding up his blue orb. Behind him, strode Zara, her head turning from side to side as if she expected an attack. At the rear, I shambled along.

  The air grew warmer and dryer as we descended the narrow passageway. The baby spiders streamed like a black river over our feet. I didn’t feel like tearing off my skin at all. When the tunnel widened, I walked alongside Zara. She raised an eyebrow and rubbed her tattooed arms. I knew what she was thinking. What if we couldn’t open the door? We’d have to fight that thing and all her children.

  Syd stopped, and a second later, light from Wally’s blue orb fell on a wall of obsidian.

  “Where are the doors?” I asked. The smooth-as-glass wall had neither a crack nor a crevice. Our reflections stared back at us in the highly polished surface.

  Syd ran a hairy leg over the middle of the wall. At first, only thin spider web cracks bubbled up inside the obsidian, shining like silken threads in sunlight, but gradually, they expanded and deepened, until a doorframe became evident. Words, too, appeared, delicate figures written in that same angelic language I first saw at the Duke’s Broken Palace. Enochian.

  “Can you read it?” I asked Wally.

  The wizard stepped closer to the wall and held up his orb. “At the top are numbers―234―and under that it says, ‘Only the keepers of knowledge may enter.’”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I think this is an Angel Gate. They can take you wherever you want to go. I had never seen one before. I thought they were only legend.”

  “How do we get in?”

  “A magic word, perhaps?”

  I glanced at Wally. “Do you know the word?”

  The wizard held out his arms and, in a firm voice, said, “234.”

  Nothing happened. The spider sniggered. “Is he serious? Two hundred and thirty-four? Why would they put the secret magic word right on the damn door? I think we’ll be feasting on wizard pretty soon, kids.”

  The baby spiders shouted in joy.

  “Give him a chance,” I said.

  Wally shouted, “Open!” When the doors didn’t open, he exclaimed, “Rood nepo!”

  “You just said open door backwards! Come on with this guy!” The spider tapped her legs on the ground, impatiently.

  “You’d be surprised how often that works,” Wally said defensively. The wizard shouted words in every language he knew. Then he whispered them. Nothing happened. He tried spells, he knocked on the doors, he tossed a few plasma orbs at it. For good measure, he even kicked it. Wally stood back from the wall, looked up to his right, and muttered something. Then he watched the wall for an awkward moment. “Lucius is having no luck either.”

  He sat on a rock, dejected.

  Syd crept toward the wizard, salivating.

  “Not so fast!” I said. “We haven’t tried everything. Zara?”

  The witch lifted her hammer and swung mightily at the doors. Bwong! It rang off the obsidian like it had struck a great bell. The force knocked her several feet back. The wall wasn’t even scratched.

  “I tried the hard way,” she said, “Now I’ll try the more cunning way.” Zara stood before the doors. With her right forefinger, she traced figures in the air as she muttered a magical language that sounded like something between a whisper and a lullaby. But the doors remained closed. The pixie/witch tried other spells and mutterings. She tried other tattoos, including the grenade, and even the ol’ kick, but nothing worked.

  Saliva dripped from Syd’s fangs in thick ropes. Her body heaved. “I had great hopes in you three.”

  “Do we have to eat Uncle Jack?” the baby spiders asked.

  “I’m afraid so, kids,” Syd said. “It’s not like he’s really your uncle.”

  I was hoping the spider kids would put up a fight, but they gleefully shouted, and streamed toward me.

  “Wait!” Garry said. “Jack, don’t you have The Book of Three Towers? Surely there’s something in it that can help us here.”

  “The Book of Three Towers has nothing about the three towers in it,” I said. “It’s a bit of a false advertisement.”

  “There has to be something,” Wally said. “You must not be reading it correctly.”

  “Oh? I think I know how to read, Wally. I’m pretty smart for a zombie.”

  “May I see it?”

  “I’m not comfortable handing over my book.”

  Wally folded his arms. “Well then, I suppose we could have the spiders eat us.”

  “Don’t crease the spine and if you dog-ear any pages I’ll kick you in the throat.”

  I removed the book from my inside pocket, and noticed it had become thicker than usual, at least twice its normal size. I wonder
ed if it had gotten wet and then I remembered the dampness. Had it become water-logged? You can never fix a wet book. I prayed it wasn’t damaged. I flipped through its pages. It had changed. The script was different―smaller and more ornamental. Gone were the usual spells and rituals. I flipped to the table of contents.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  It read:

  A Brief History of the Three Towers

  The East Tower

  The West Tower

  The North Tower

  End Note

  “What is it?” Wally asked.

  “The book has changed. There’s stuff in here about the towers, but they have different names.”

  “LST,” Wally said, matter of factly.

  “What?”

  “Location-specific textuality. The content changes according to where you are. Apparently, you need to be inside or near the towers to access information about the towers.”

  “Why would the names be different in the book?”

  “The towers were here before us,” Wally said. “We gave them their current names. These may be their true names.”

  “So, how are we supposed to know which tower this is?”

  “Give me the book, please.”

  I handed Wally the book.

  He took and leafed through it until something caught his attention. The wizard stopped, read for a moment, then looked up at me. “Just as I thought.”

  “What?”

  “It tells you right here how to access the door. On page 234.” He gave Syd a triumphant nod. “Now stand back.”

  Wally recited from The Book of Three Towers: “East, West, North.” With his right index finger, he traced the shape of a triangle, which―now that I thought about it―was the position of the three towers. “Through and through and through, open all the doors.”

  The door glowed white, then vanished, exposing a swirling vortex like a bowl of stars being stirred by a maniac god.

  “We’re just supposed to walk through that?” I asked.

  “Only if you want to get stuck in oblivion,” Wally said. “According to the book, you need to think of where you want to go as you enter. Otherwise you could wind up in limbo or some random place.”

  “Syd, where do you want to go?”

  “What’s the address of that espresso shop?” asked the spider.

  The sound of running hooves echoed down the tunnel.

  “Something’s coming,” Zara said.

  “No doubt it’s Lucifer’s men,” Syd said.

  “Let’s go! Think Bleek Street and caffeine,” I said to Syd.

  The great spider waved her children through the gate. “You heard Uncle Jack! Think Bleek Street and caffeine.”

  The baby spiders flooded into the vortex, as the demons drew closer. War cries emanated from the darkness.

  “I can already smell the coffee.” Syd dove through the Angel Gate and the swirling stars swallowed her.

  “It probably wasn’t a good thing that we let those spiders escape,” Garry said.

  “You all ready to jump to the Dire Wood?” I asked.

  “Should we bother?” Zara asked. “The Nazis are after Oswald. They’re probably not looking for the souls anymore. We should get him to a secure location.”

  The rasp of the demons’ breath grew louder as they closed in on us.

  “Reviving Oswald is the best chance we have of keeping him safe and keeping all our souls safe. Besides, we need to leave now.”

  We held hands and entered the Angel Gate.

  Wally said, “Close,” and the portal shut behind us.

  I thought of dark and scary trees as I stepped into the swirling vortex.

  CHAPTER 12: A Not-So-Secret Lair

  Time froze inside the vortex. Though I had seen a bright white light as I entered, once inside, it was pitch-black―no sounds, no sights. I tried calling out to the others, but if I made a noise, I didn’t know. I was alone, walking, I thought, but I couldn’t feel my feet land on the ground. I caught my mind wandering and pulled it back to the Dire Wood. I had never been there before. Witch End is a place I avoid, since it’s mostly inhabited by humans, and humans hate zombies more than anything in Pandemonium.

  The Dire Wood is situated in the Northwestern corner of Witch End, known in the Other World as Queens. From what I know of the wood, it’s a wild area full of ghosts and wolves. It’s famous for the number of suicides that take place there. Most people go there specifically to off themselves. But others, it is said, are driven to it once they step within the wood.

  I daydreamed of hanged corpses swaying from trees like piñatas when I suddenly realized I was walking in the real Dire Wood. I hadn’t noticed any change or transition. I just went from imagining the Dire Wood to being there. I looked up. Only two corpses in the trees―a human witch dressed in a wedding gown and an elf in a tuxedo. The perfect metaphor for marriage.

  “That was weird,” a voice said.

  I screamed, and Garry’s head went tumbling to the ground. I had forgotten all about him. His head rolled until it smacked against a crumbling tree stump. I ran over to him. His face was stuck in the dirt. I picked him up and dusted him off as best I could.

  “How’s my hair?” he asked. “Is it on straight?”

  “How can I tell?”

  Zara appeared ahead of us, looking around, seemingly in a daze.

  “Zara, over here!” I shouted.

  She turned toward me and headed in our direction.

  When she reached us, she asked, “Where’s Wally?”

  I looked in every direction, but couldn’t find the wizard.

  “Do you think he messed up?” I asked.

  “And didn’t think of the Dire Wood?”

  “He might not have wanted to go with us,” Garry said. “He seemed to like being in prison.”

  “That dirty stinking jail bird!” I said.

  Someone screamed.

  “Lucius! Where are you, Lucius!”

  “It’s coming from there.” I pointed toward the south.

  We caught up with Wally, who was stalking through the wood like a blind man who had lost his cane.

  “How can you lose an imaginary friend?” I asked.

  Wally didn’t like that. He stared daggers at me. “Lucius is not imaginary, you rancid piece of meat! He’s just as real as you.”

  “Maybe he thought of a better place to transport himself to.”

  The wizard’s face darkened. “He went back to prison! To perform in the talent show! He had his heart set on it. I have to go back.”

  “Wally, we’re in Witch End. You have no way to get back. Not to mention, we have important business here.”

  “That’s your business, not mine. Lucius!”

  A wolf bayed.

  “It’s probably not a good idea to be shouting like that, Wally. Let’s find the alchemist’s lab and then you can go back to prison if you want.”

  The korrigan’s face wrinkled. He seemed to think about it. “Lucius does need more time to practice. Still, we need to hurry back.”

  “Trust me. I don’t want to stay here any longer than is needed.”

  “Hey, can you reassemble me while we’re at it?” Garry asked. “I need to scratch my nose.”

  I dumped Garry’s bones onto the ground and placed his head at the top.

  As I searched for Garry’s spine, I said, “Any idea where the secret lab is, Wally?”

  “None.”

  A warm breeze blasted through the dead trees. Their naked branches shook nervously.

  “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it’s secret?” Zara asked.

  I found the spinal column and tried to snap it into Garry’s head, but it wasn’t happening. I held the spine firmly with one hand, placed Garry’s head over it, and slammed my fist on top of his noggin. That did the trick. It clicked into place.

  “Careful with the elf hair!” he said.

  “So how are we going to find the lab?” I asked.

&nb
sp; “I’ll ask a snake,” Wally said. “They know hidden things.”

  I attached Garry’s rib cage, and his arms. I left the rest up to him.

  Wally got on his hands and knees. He dug a hole in the ground, bent over it, and whispered strange words into the earth.

  The wind howled and the trees creaked like secret doors in haunted houses. The sky was the color of a fresh bruise.

  Movement stirred in the browned grass.

  Wally patted the dirt next to the hole, first softly, then violently, and a long, jade-green snake slithered toward him.

  The snake stopped inches from the wizard. He got up on his knees. The snake rose, too, half of its body pointing straight up. Wally spoke more strange words. It sounded like he tried to spit but couldn’t muster up any saliva. The snake watched the sorcerer making noises like a flat tire expelling air.

  When he stopped, the snake flicked its tongue several times. Wally bent closer to the creature, putting his ear to the snake’s mouth. I couldn’t make out what it said.

  Wally jumped up. “I most certainly will not!” he shouted. He turned to us “What a disrespectful snake. I take back everything good I’ve ever said about snakes. Apparently, they are not such upstanding creatures.”

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “She wants me to provide a service for her in exchange for the information.”

  “What does she want you to do?”

  “She says there’s something stuck in her throat and asked if I could get it out.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “She says the only way I can remove the obstruction is with my tongue.”

  “The poor thing is probably suffocating. Don’t be so selfish, Wallflower. Pretend it’s Lucius.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Garry said. He was back together and in his atrocious zoot suit. “How’s my hair look?”

  The snake, her eyes watering, held herself straight up and waited for Wally to save her. She coughed. Wally leaned in, stuck out his tongue, and inserted the long brown thing into the serpent’s mouth.

  “Root around in there,” I said, “and find that damn obstruction. We don’t want a dead snake on our hands.”

  Wally probed the snake deeper and deeper, the reptile fluttering the end of her tail. When he couldn’t go any deeper, the snake jerked her head back, then darted into the wizard’s mouth. The slimy thing had gotten almost halfway down his throat before he managed to pull her out with a popping sound. The snake dropped to the ground. I thought I saw her smile.