The Devil, the Witch and the Whore (The Deal Book 1)

by Amy Cross

“Ramsey?”

  I wait, but now she falls silent, although finally I realize she seems to be muttering something under her breath.

  “Okay, Ramsey,” she says finally, “tell me something else. Are you a virgin?”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Answer the question.”

  I pause again. “Yes,” I lie finally. “Of course I am. Why?”

  “That's good,” she continues, and she quickly starts leading me along the corridor again. “They're waiting for the whore, but that can't be you, not if you're a virgin.”

  “The whore?” I ask, remembering that the guy with the truck used the same word. “What does -”

  “It doesn't matter!” she hisses. “It's not you, so you don't need to worry about it. You just need to focus on staying close to me and doing whatever I tell you. Don't be like the others, don't start getting your own ideas, because that's how you end up dead and rotting in one of the inner tunnels. Trust me, if you run, you die.”

  “What others?”

  “I couldn't save them,” she continues, as she leads me along another corridor. “I tried, I did my best, but they made such stupid choices, I didn't have a chance. You have to listen to me carefully and do exactly what I say. I'll get you out of here, but only if you stay close. Maybe you can be the first one who actually escapes. I think that's allowed. I don't think he'd get mad at me for that.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “Who -”

  “Quiet!” Grabbing me by the shoulders, she slams me against the wall and then holds me in place.

  I open my mouth to ask what's wrong, but a moment later I hear the scratching sound in the distance, coming closer. A moment after that, I feel a rough, scarred hand against my lips, as if the girl is making sure that I keep quiet.

  “He shouldn't be this close again already,” she whispers. “I don't get it.”

  “But -”

  “Not one more word!” she hisses, clamping her hand tighter over my mouth. “Trust me!”

  I stay completely silent, even as the scratching sound edges closer. Deep down, in the pit of my belly, I can feel the fear stirring again, reaching its hands up through my chest and slipping gnarly, twisted fingers between my lowest ribs. Just as I'm about to ask why we're waiting, however, I hear the sound getting further away again, as if our pursuer – whoever or whatever he might be – has suddenly taken a turn along a different tunnel. Slowly, the hand moves away from my mouth, although I still don't quite dare to speak.

  And the fear starts to settle again, slipping back down into my belly.

  A moment later, I feel the girl's fingers on my arm, and she starts feeling the cut she made a few minutes ago.

  “It's good,” she mutters, keeping her voice low. “I didn't make a mistake, but maybe it's not quite taking properly for some reason. Or maybe it's just a coincidence that he came so close. Either way...”

  Her voice trails off for a moment.

  I can't see her, not in the pitch-black tunnel, but I swear that somehow I can tell she's staring straight at me.

  “Ramsey?” she whispers finally.

  “Yeah, that's my name. Does it matter?”

  “Ramsey...”

  I wait, but she falls silent again.

  “What's your name?” I ask. “What are you doing down here? Who's chasing us? I don't understand any of this.”

  I wait.

  “Ramsey,” she says yet again. “Really?”

  “What does -”

  “Come on!” she continues, pulling me further along the tunnel.

  Suddenly I bump straight into a wall. Startled, I take a step back as the girl lets go of my arm. Every other wall has had a pile of rubble at its base, but this seems much flatter. I turn and look to my left, reaching out, and I realize I've reached a junction. A moment later, feeling a faint breeze against the back of my neck, I turn and look the other way, and I'm shocked to find that I can actually see another passageway curving away, with a very faint hint of light against the far wall and the girl's ragged silhouette just a few feet in front of me.

  “What's that?” I ask.

  “He's still close,” she replies, reaching toward me and grabbing my arm again. “We need to figure something out. I don't understand why he isn't falling behind.”

  “Please God,” I stammer, stumbling toward the light, picking up my pace as I realize that I might have actually found a way out of this nightmare. The light ahead seems bright and pale, as if daylight is somehow streaming into the tunnel system, and finally I follow the curve of the passageway far enough to see a clear patch of light several hundred feet up ahead.

  And a person.

  I stop as soon as I see that there's a human figure silhouetted against the gray morning sky, as if somebody is blocking my way out. My first assumption is that the guy from the truck has somehow found me, but after a moment I start to realize that the figure actually seems very different, with several long objects poking out from its body. I also think, although I'm not certain, that the figure might be seated.

  “Who's that?” I ask.

  “You can see her?” the girl replies, sounding surprised as she pulls on my arm, trying to make me keep going. “Are you sure?”

  Tilting my head and squinting, I try to figure out exactly what I'm seeing. So far, the figure hasn't moved at all, and it hasn't even reacted in any way to my arrival. I guess there's a chance it hasn't spotted me yet, or that for some reason it can't move.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  “This doesn't make sense,” the girl continues frantically, her voice filled with panic. “I wasn't going to take you there, but...”

  Again, her voice trails off, and then she lets go of my arm and starts stumbling along the tunnel, heading toward the light. Silhouetted against the brightness, she turns and gestures for me to follow.

  “This way!”

  “Why?” I ask, trying not to panic too much. “Who's up there waiting for us? Is it the thing that was chasing us?”

  “Did you listen to a word I said just now? Stop asking questions and do as you're told! Questions will get you killed!”

  She hurries along, and finally I realize that I have no option but to go after her. I glance back into the darkness, but the scratching sound hasn't returned and I quickly hurry to reach the girl, by which point we're almost at the end of the tunnel. I can hear a faint roaring, rushing sound from up ahead, almost as if we're getting closer to some kind of river or waterfall, which isn't entirely impossible seeing as there are several of both in parts of the forest. Still, it's hard to believe that I've strayed so far from the Devil's Lookout and Dodderidge Farm areas, even if I have to accept that I've become a little disorientated. It's been so long since I ate or drank, I'm actually starting to feel light-headed.

  “What is this place?” I ask, as I realize that the tunnel seems to be leading toward some kind of room. There's a figure in a chair, in the center of the room, and as we get closer I can tell that the chair appears to have several large spikes poking up from its frame.

  “This isn't how it should be,” the girl mutters ahead of me. “Something isn't right this time.”

  “Do you have a phone?” I continue. “I need to call the sheriff's station. I need to get help.”

  “I don't get it,” she whispers. “I'm doing everything right, but there's something I'm not seeing.”

  Before I can ask what she means, she leads me into the chamber and I see to my horror that the woman in the chair is horrifically injured. She's completely naked, except for a blood-stained blindfold that covers her eyes, while a dozen or more long, thick wooden poles have been driven through her body at various angles, impaling her not only in the chest put also the throat, the shoulder, the belly and even her crotch. One of the poles runs up through her jaw and pokes out from her wide-open mouth. There's dried blood all over her flesh, and on the floor too, as if she's been here for a long time, while several small rocks have b
een balanced at the poles' intersections. At first, I assume the woman has to be dead, but then I realize that she's trembling slightly.

  “What the hell is this?” I stammer, taking a step back. “What are you doing to her?”

  The girl turns to me, and now I can see her face properly. She really is my age, maybe a year or two older at most, but she's extremely pale and there are heavy bags under her eyes, while she has several thick, knotted scars on her chin and neck that don't look to have healed properly.

  “You can see her?” she asks, before turning to the impaled woman. “You shouldn't be able to see her. The witch should be completely hidden from you. Unless...”

  “What are you talking about?” I reply, unable to stop staring at the horrific sight as I back a little further away. The woman is silhouetted against an opening in the wall, with the cold morning sky right behind her, and her body is still trembling as she remains on her rickety wooden chair. “This can't be real,” I continue. “This is some kind of movie set, or a prank, or a waxwork doll. There's no way it can be real.”

  “But you see her,” the girl mutters, clearly lost in thought as she walks behind the impaled woman and then stops to stare at me for a moment. “I put the mark on your hand, I didn't make any mistakes, but you can still see the witch.”

  “What mark?” I ask, before looking down at my hand and seeing the lines and circles she cut earlier in the dark. I didn't realize it at the time, but she seems to have carved a very specific pattern. “Why did you do this to me?”

  “You said you felt him getting close to you in the tunnels,” she continues. “How close?”

  “I don't know what -”

  “He'd have killed you if he got close,” she adds, interrupting me. “Unless... Unless he's curious about you. Unless he thinks you're important.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” I tell her, “but nothing you're telling me makes sense. I just want to get the hell out of this place. Do you understand? I want to get out of these tunnels!”

  “You should be dead,” she replies.

  I turn to her.

  “I've tried to rescue them before,” she continues, eyeing me with a hint of fear, “but I never managed it. Never, not even once. I always thought that one day I'd succeed, that one day I'd get someone out of here, but now I realize I couldn't have, not unless...”

  Her voice trails off, and after a moment she starts coming back over to me.

  “Hold on,” I stammer, stepping around the impaled woman, not wanting the girl to get too close. “Just stay back for a moment, okay? I have to get out of here! You have to show me the nearest exit!”

  “You shouldn't be able to see the witch,” she mutters darkly.

  “What witch?” I ask, struggling to stay calm. “I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever's going on here, we have to leave! Please, you said you were going to help me!”

  I turn to run back the way we just came along the tunnel, but I quickly stop as soon as I hear the scratching sound again, far off in the distance. As the sound continues, however, I realize it's coming closer and closer, blocking the only route back out of this room.

  “How is he finding you?” the girl continues, keeping her eyes fixed on me as I turn to her. “The mark should make you invisible to him. That's how it works, that's how it's always worked, there's no way around it except...”

  She stares at me for a moment longer, while the scratching sound continues in the tunnel.

  Realizing that she seems completely crazy, I hurry over to the gap in the wall, only to find that we're about fifty feet above a raging river, with large black rocks far below. Reaching out, I steady myself to make sure I don't slip, while looking around in the hope that I'll spot some way to climb down. Finally I look up and see that the top of the cliff is maybe ten feet up. If I can find a way to climb, despite my injured right hand, maybe I can still get out of here and run.

  “This can't be real,” I whisper, and for a moment I start wondering whether I might have hit my head when I fell through the sink-hole. Maybe nothing since that moment has actually happened, and the whole situation is part of some delirious fever-dream. That's the only thing that makes sense. “Wake up, Ramsey. You have to wake up. You can't -”

  Suddenly I hear a loud, angry scream in the distance. Turning, I realize the scream seems to be coming from the tunnel, as if something angry is headed this way. At the same time, I feel another stir of fear in my gut, pulling down on my ribs. A moment later I turn and see that the ragged girl is still standing next to the impaled woman, watching me with an expression of pure horror.

  “What is this place?” I shout. “Why did you bring me here? How do we get out?”

  “You shouldn't be able to see her,” she replies, “and he shouldn't be able to track you down. None of this makes sense, not unless...”

  Again, her voice trails off, but the screaming is getting closer and I can hear something scratching in the tunnel. Whatever's back there, it's coming this way fast, and it seems to be emanating some kind of pure, primal sense of fear. I take a step back, but already the fingertips are pressing against the insides of my ribs, and I can feel cold sweat prickling my flesh. All I know is that whatever's coming along that tunnel, it seems to be driving abject fear into my heart. I can't let it get to me. Whatever else happens, I can't feel that fear again.

  “What is that thing?” I stammer. “Please, I don't know what you want from me, but you said you'd get me out of here. Remember? I was up the ladder and you told me to come down, and you said you'd take me to an exit.”

  “I know,” she replies, “but that was before...”

  I wait for her to continue.

  “Before what?” I ask finally.

  “Before you...”

  Again, she seems lost in thought.

  “Before you lied to me,” she continues after a moment.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She turns and looks back along the tunnel, as the screaming gets closer and closer. When she turns back to me, the horror in her expression has been replaced by something else, something more shocking.

  Anger.

  “You idiot!” she hisses finally. “You fool, you lied to me!”

  “I didn't lie to you,” I stammer. “Please, you just -”

  “You're a liar!” she screams. “You told me you were a virgin, but you lied! It's the only explanation that makes sense! You lied and I believed you, and now I've led you right to the witch!”

  “Can you please just get me out of here?” I ask, stepping toward her as I feel the fear turning to panic. “I'll do anything, whatever you want, but I've been down here for so long and people are probably looking for me now and I'm so hungry and scared and -”

  “You shouldn't have lied,” she sneers. “I was going to get you out of here, I promise. That was my plan.”

  “That's what I want too,” I reply, looking past her and seeing the darkness of the tunnel. After a moment, however, the scream seems even louder, and I finally spot something moving at the far end, lumbering very slowly through the darkness. All I can make out is the faint outline of a human figure, but the sight is enough to send a sudden thumping thud of fear into my chest. “What -”

  “It's too late!” the girl screams suddenly, lunging at me and shoving me back. “There's no way out! You lied and now you're cornered, and you've only got yourself to blame!”

  Before I can reply, I hear a faint rattling sound nearby, and I turn to see that the naked woman is straining in her chair. She seems to be trying to move, even though she's still impaled on the wooden poles. A moment later, she lets out a faint, groaning murmur, and I see that her hands are flexing as if she's trying desperately to move. I think she's trying to say something, despite the wooden pole that runs straight through her jaw and out her mouth.

  “You're the whore,” the girl stammers, stepping away from me until her back's against the wall. “Of all the people it could ever have been,
Ramsey... Why did it have to be you?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about!” I shout, before turning and seeing that the figure at the end of the tunnel is still edging slowly and calmly this way. It's not in a hurry, but I swear I can feel its gaze fixed on me. Finally, trembling with fear, I turn and look around the chamber, convinced that there must be another way out of here. Hell, I'll dig through solid rock if that's what it takes.

  “Help me,” the woman in the chair gasps suddenly. “Help...”

  “Don't listen to her!” the girl screams frantically, running toward me and pushing me back. “Don't ever listen to anything she says!”

  “Help me!” the woman hisses again. “Please, get me out of here!”

  “You've sealed your own fate,” the girl tells me. “He knows you're his now. Just like the witch. This can only end one way, and I'm going to get everything I was promised.”

  I turn to her, before suddenly realizing that I only have one escape route. I can figure out later what's going on, but right now the fear is starting to overwhelm me again and I know I have to run. Hurrying to the opening in the wall, I look down at the river and I briefly consider trying to climb down, before realizing that there's no way I'd make it without falling. Instead, I look around for some part of the rock-face that might offer a little purchase, and finally I spot a section that might serve as a foothold. Unable to use my right hand, I reach out with my left and steady myself for a moment, and then I start climbing out through the opening and onto the side of the cliff. If I can't go down, I'll have to go up.

  “I'll send someone back to help you,” I stammer, hoping the woman in the chair can hear me. “I promise.”

  “Stop!” the girl shouts. “You're just delaying the inevitable! You belong to him now! The fear was supposed to keep you away, but now you have to stay! The devil will come and explain everything!”

  “This isn't real,” I whisper, struggling to keep from slipping as I look up and try to figure out my route to the top. “I should never have come back to Deal. I knew it was a mistake. I should have gone somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

  In the back of my mind, I know that climbing like this is insane. At the same time, pure panic is flooding through my body and coursing through my veins, forcing me to try whatever it takes to get out of the chamber before the slow-moving man arrives. My hands are trembling too much for me to even grip the rocks properly, but the fear in my chest is startling to crawl between my ribs, like hundreds and hundreds of spiders climbing up through my body. I can even feel their scratchy little legs at the back of my throat.