Wally spit and wiped his mouth. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”
The snake turned, hissed, and slithered off. Wally, still wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, followed. “Come on. She’s taking us to the lab.”
The snake led us through an overgrown area of the wood. Thick, muscular brambles covered the ground and wrapped around fallen trees. My feet kept getting tangled up in the weeds, their razor-sharp thorns slicing at my ankles.
The snake deftly navigated the treacherous terrain, which soon cleared to a glade. A few rotten tree stumps and boulders sat in the grass.
The snake entered the glade and then took off like a shot, disappearing into the wood.
“Great,” I said. “That snake was a real snake. We got duped.”
My head filled with the static again. But this time a single voice rose above the hissing with more clarity. Faint and far away, it whispered something about the boulders, but I couldn’t make out the rest.
Three boulders lay scattered across the glade.
I had the faint idea the voice belonged to Oswald. But it couldn’t have been. He hadn’t spoken since we destroyed the Pandemonium Device. I lifted him out of my satchel. Still lifeless, just a ball of fluff. Was I losing it imagining the runt’s voice? Before he fell into a coma, he never stopped talking. He sure did his best to drive me crazy then.
Still, I walked over to the boulder at the far edge of the clearing. It was about six feet long and three feet high. I placed my hands on it and the thought of pushing it entered my mind. So, I did. At first, it didn’t want to budge, but I put a bit more muscle into it and the rock gave a little. Zara joined me and pushed, too.
The boulder slid backward, exposing a wooden trapdoor.
“What made you push that boulder?” Zara asked.
“Would you believe deductive reasoning?” I said.
“Not at all.”
I really had no idea why I pushed it. Maybe I was developing extrasensory perception.
I gave the trapdoor a tug, but it was locked pretty tight.
“Maybe we should knock,” Garry said. I looked at him. “After all, this is private property. Alberic might not be very happy if we just go barging inside uninvited.”
“He has a point,” Wally said. “There’s also a good chance the door is enchanted to ward off intruders.”
I tapped on the trapdoor. “Hello, down there. Anyone home?” I waited for an answer, but didn’t get one.
“What if he doesn’t want to let us in?” Garry asked.
“Why are we arguing about this?” I asked. “We have hammer girl over here and a world-class wizard. Let’s bash down the door and figure it out later.”
“That’s your plan?” Zara said.
“Do you have a better one?”
“Hammering things usually is my plan. I just wanted to make sure.”
I stepped aside. “Bash it to fookin bits.”
Zara swung her hammer with two hands like a carnival strongman. The door splintered into dozens of pieces.
“So much for an enchantment,” I said. “Who wants to be the first in the hole?”
We all looked at each other. Then, with reluctant bravery, Garry said, “I started this. I’ll go.”
Wally conjured his blue orb of lighting and held it over the hole. A makeshift ladder of wooden planks ran down one side of the shaft. We couldn’t see the bottom.
“Tell us right off if there are any monsters or maniacs down there,” I said.
“Should I use a code word or something?” Garry asked.
“Say, ‘Oh, fook, there’s a monster down here.’”
“Sure, buddy, sure.”
I slapped him on the back, and then Garry gently lowered himself into the shaft.
“Your hair is looking great, by the way,” I said.
Garry didn’t respond. He descended into the darkness. In a moment, he’d disappeared from sight. “It smells terrible down here.” A few seconds later, he gave out a yell and a dull thump echoed up from the hole.
After an awkward moment of silence, he shouted, “I think my right foot fell off!”
From the sound of his voice, I estimated he had fallen only about twenty feet.
“Any monsters, Garry!” I shouted.
“I can’t see, buddy!”
“I’d go next, but, Wally, you have the light.”
The wizard gave me an incredulous look. I shrugged. Wally entered the hole. I followed and Zara came down last.
We stood in a small antechamber that barely fit the four of us.
Wally’s orb of lighting lit a narrow passageway on the far end of the antechamber.
“Lead the way, Wally,” I said.
We crept into the passage one by one, and stepped out into a long hall that went off a long way toward the left and right. The walls were made of dried mud, like a house of adobe.
“I think we’re in a labyrinth,” Wally said.
“This guy really didn’t want to be found,” Garry said.
“If this alchemist is as paranoid about being discovered as I think he is, we could be lost in here for years,” I said. “Any ideas?”
Again the brain static, the mind radio searching for a station. A voice whispered, louder. This time, I could clearly make out its words.
Go left.
“Oswald,” I asked, “is that you?”
“What?” Zara said.
I froze like I had been caught with a worm coming out of my nose. “I thought I heard something.”
“Keep it together. Okay?”
“Follow me,” I said, and took the lead.
As we delved deeper into the labyrinth, I thought about Oswald. Did he tell me to push that boulder? How did he know what he knew? How was he communicating with me? It wouldn’t be the first time Oswald took up residence in my head. That’s how we met. The little fook spent six months inside my skull. He said he was just looking for a place to sleep. I never believed that.
The smell of earth and rot grew stronger the farther we walked.
“What if this alchemist doesn’t want to give up the souls?” Zara asked.
“That’s a great question,” I said, and left it at that.
The voice, welling up in my mind like bubbles in carbonated water, continued to guide me.
Make a right… continue on straight here… stay to the left.
It sure sounded like that annoying pipsqueak voice of Oswald’s. He somehow beamed himself directly into my noggin. Was he talking telepathically to me? No one else could hear him. I tried to talk back in my mind. Is that you, Oswald? Are you waking up? You’re sure taking your sweet time. I got no answer.
“Isn’t there usually a monster in the middle of a labyrinth?” Garry asked.
“You’re thinking of the Minotaur,” Wally said.
Garry turned his skull toward Wally with a faint creak. “Wasn’t he a monster?”
“One of the worst.”
“Don’t put ideas in his toupéed head,” I said.
“He brought it up.”
“Stop!”
Wally held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything!”
“Look. Up there.” I pointed at a dark form in the middle of the path.
We stared at it for several minutes.
“It’s not moving,” Zara finally said.
“Maybe it’s sleeping,” I said. “Minotaurs sleep, don’t they?”
“Then this would be the perfect time to fight it.” Zara gave me a shove.
I stumbled a step but caught myself. “Who said anything about fighting it?”
“You could try befriending him, spend some quality time with the Minotaur, share your life stories, bond, and then when he’s your best buddy, you cut his throat.”
“Wouldn’t work. People generally don’t like me.”
“True. Then a fight to the death it is. Good luck.”
I conjured up all the brave I could and crept toward the form. Is it a Minotaur? I aske
d Oswald in my mind. No answer.
As I got closer, I could make out a foot. What did a Minotaur foot look like? Did he have a hoof? No, he was a man from the neck down. The thing on the ground looked human. I grew braver and crept closer. A grayish robe with many tears and holes, like rats had been at it, covered the rest of the body. The corpse lay on its back, its shriveled and leathery face staring at the dirt ceiling with eyeless sockets. The front of the robe, right by the heart, had been slashed and bore dark stains. Ancient blood?
“I think I found Alberic,” I shouted back to the others.
They crammed around me and looked down at the body.
“That’s why there was no enchantment on the door,” Wally said. “Any of his security measures would have died with him.”
Garry must have followed my line of thinking, because he backed away, shaking his head. “I couldn’t have known, Jack. I’m sorry.”
“So much for him helping us revive Oswald,” I said, and wanted to strangle the skeleton.
“There are still the souls,” he said, in a quaking voice.
“Who gives gives a flipping fook about the souls!”
“I do. They’re our souls, and without our souls, we are nothing but an assemblage of bones and muscles―sometimes even less―that only knows hunger and despair. Souls are the breath of God. You can’t throw that away, buddy.”
“Spare me the Goddy bullshit, Garry. I have an idea. Alberic may be of some use, after all.”
I knelt beside the alchemist and took out my stash of fairy dust. He may have been dead too long, but it was worth a shot.
I licked two of my fingers, dipped them into the baggie, and then wiped the dust on the alchemist’s desiccated lips.
“What are you doing?” Garry asked.
“The dust loosens the lips of the dead.”
Several minutes passed, but the corpse didn’t speak. I dabbed my fingers in more dust and coated the alchemist’s black tongue. The dust crackled and snapped like ice melting on a fire.
“What happened to you?” I asked the corpse.
Silence.
“How did you die?”
A long release of air emanated from the dead alchemist’s throat.
“How did you die?”
A voice of gravel and fire spoke. “Al… ra… un,” it said.
I asked the corpse more questions. Where he kept the souls? Who was Alraun? But I got no answers.
When I stood, the others gave me queer looks.
“Did you hear what he said?” I asked.
But they shook their heads. “He didn’t say anything,” Zara said.
“What do you mean? He said Al-ra-un.”
“You said it.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, you let out this long breath and then you said ‘Al-ra-un’ in this really weird voice.”
“It was creepy,” Garry said.
That had never happened before and I had used that dust trick on quite a few dead people.
“Let’s keep moving,” I said.
I no longer needed the voice to guide me through the labyrinth. Somehow, I knew where to go―right to the center of the labyrinth.
“Any of you know what Alraun means?” I asked.
“It’s the German word for mandrake,” Wally said.
“Do you think he meant a mandrake killed him?”
“Maybe. Mandrakes are known for killing whoever digs them up.”
“We should be on the lookout for mandrakes,” Garry said.
“The alchemist has been dead for decades,” I said. “If that mandrake knew any better, he’d have left this dump long ago.”
After a few more twists and turns, we reached the center of the labyrinth and the alchemist’s lab. The doors hung open.
“How did you know your way through the labyrinth?” Zara asked. “And don’t tell me deductive reasoning, because you don’t do reasoning.”
“I’m a good detective, Zara. Why can’t you just accept that? While you take the blunt way, I take the meditative, delicate way.”
“Something’s going on here.”
We entered the lab. Wally’s orb cast a blue pallor over the place. The books outnumbered the equipment. Fat, leather-bound tomes and papers covered every surface. Beakers, tubes, and cauldrons of all shapes sat on a long table in the center of the room. Against a wall sat a surgical table, thankfully without a corpse on it. To the right, a desk covered with more books and papers.
Garry found some candles, and we lit them.
Wally sat at the ancient desk, blew dust off a pile a papers, and began to read. I investigated the table in the middle of the room. Zara watched the door as Garry wandered around in search of the souls. I didn’t think it would be that easy.
On the table, I found three tall glass jars containing little dolls. A black one, a blue one, and a red one. They reminded me of Oswald, but these figures were misshapen and featureless. Then again, Oswald didn’t have eyes until I etched X’s into his big head. The dolls sat limp inside the jars. I tapped the glass and waited anxiously for a reaction. They didn’t move. I lifted the black one out of the jar. Its skin had the same texture as Oswald’s. A gelatinous blob. They lay there just as dead as Oswald. I didn’t want to think what this could mean. But I couldn’t ignore the implications. Were these Oswald’s brothers? Were they, too, murdered like the alchemist? Or had they never been given life? For all I knew, every alchemist had these homunculi in their labs. I didn’t know what an alchemist did. I had only heard rumors about philosopher stones, but I knew they had nothing to do with philosophy. As I’ve often said, Oswald is an enigma wrapped inside a marshmallow. Given how much time we spent together, I knew little about him and his origin. I didn’t even know for sure if he was a homunculus.
“I think I found something!” Wally shouted.
We all rushed over to the desk where the wizard sat.
“Did you find the souls?” Garry asked.
“Something better. Alberic’s writings.” Wally held up a sheaf of yellowed paper.
“What was he working on?” I asked, wondering if the document contained anything about the homunculi and Oswald.
“All sorts of things. He really was a genius. A shame he was killed.”
“Quit stalling,” Zara said. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible. I don’t like the idea of being trapped in this burrow.”
“The souls aren’t here,” Wally said.
“Then let’s get out of here.” Zara stepped toward the doors.
“How do you know?” Garry’s voice went high.
“Keep your wig on and listen to this.” Wally read from the diary:
Bad, evil dreams again last night. Every night since I found the vessels. I must move the souls out of the burrow tomorrow or something terrible will happen. They have power. And nothing must stop me now. I am so close.
“At least that confirms he had the souls,” Garry said. “I told you, Jack.”
“He doesn’t have anything,” I barked. “One, he’s dead, and two, the souls aren’t here.”
“But they have to be close by. He wouldn’t put them too far out of his reach.”
“He’s probably right,” Wally said.
Boom-doom, boom-doom.
The sound echoed from deep within the labyrinth.
At that moment, I realized Zara had been right. Being in a burrow spelled trouble.
The sound of stomping boots thundered in our ears.
“Trouble’s coming.” Zara pulled the doors closed.
“It might not be a great idea to cut off our only exit,” I said.
Zara found a lead pipe and used it to bar the doors. “It’s a worse idea to leave the doors open, don’t you think?”
“Nazis or demons?” I asked.
“Or demon Nazis or Nazi demons,” Zara said. “What difference does it make?”
My mind radio turned up to maximum, crackling like a bonfire.
jackjackjackjackjackjack
My dead skin prickled.
“Oswald?” I asked.
“No, my name is Zara. We’ve gone over this.”
“Sorry.”
“Focus.”
“Wally, can you magic us out of here?”
“I can try. Gather in a circle.”
We did, holding each others’ hand. Wally closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath, before saying, “Something’s binding me. There’s someone out there with strong magic.”
“Garry, look around for another exit,” I said.
The skeleton nodded and headed into the shadows.
Boom-doom, boom-doom. The sound rattled throughout the labyrinth, and blended with the voice in my head, which continued calling my name.
jackjackjackjackjackjackjackjack
Something big lumbered up to the doors.
We looked at each other, holding our breath. A soft rapping preceded a soft, feminine voice.
“Hallo.” The playful tone startled me. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself at the pier before you all took off so suddenly.”
The Nazi woman who led the soul suckers?
“I don’t want to call you guys out, but it did seem a bit rude. I have to admit my feelings were hurt. But that’s in the past. Let’s start over. My name is Dr. Ilsa Hellstrom.”
“How did they follow us here?” Zara asked.
I gave Garry a dirty look. He shook his head and backed away.
“Let me tell you why I’m here and we can go from there,” said Dr. Hellstrom. “Okay? I work for some very important and powerful people and they have tasked me with retrieving the homunculus/Jupiter Stone hybrid. We feel it is very important to our current plans. I have been given carte blanche when it comes to obtaining the creature, which I believe you call Oswald. He sounds like a real cutey. In short, what I am trying to say is open the doors and hand over Oswald or I and these very scary zombies are going to kill all of you, or at the very least torture you until you wish you were dead. Okay? I have said all I’ve needed to say. Your response?”
“No thanks,” I said.
“I can’t very well go back to my superiors without the homunculus. How would that look for my career trajectory? And my employee review is coming up. So, you can see the quandary I’m in. Can you help a working gal out?”
Dead Jack and the Soul Catcher: (Volume 2) Page 9
