The elevator surged and began to move up. It rose with the creaking sound of metal on metal, and we watched the floor numbers light up, one after the other, until we passed the twelfth, then fourteenth floors.
Harken began tapping the stop button, but the lift kept rising. “Come on now,” he said. “Do not make a liar out of me.”
My heart began to pound. I could feel panic starting to tighten my chest, and my thumb started to itch seriously. At the top floor, number twenty-one, the elevator came to an abrupt stop. I reached for the cage to open it, but Harken pulled my hand back.
“Something’s terribly wrong,” he whispered.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
THE lights went out, and we hung there like a spider clinging to its web. A booming clap of thunder seemed to shake the entire hotel, and I grabbed Harken’s arm for support. He had just enough time to smile at me before the bottom dropped out. Air whooshed by, and the elevator free-fell so fast, it felt like the air was sucked out of my mouth, and Harken’s eyes rolled back into his head. The cage shook violently, and I heard the noise of the accordion gate slamming against the shaft. Above us, the emergency brakes screamed but didn’t slow our descent, the air stinking like brake shoes and me swearing to god we were being turned inside out. There was a loud, heavy clunk, and the floor indictor arrow swung wildly from the left to the right, then back, burying itself below the numeral one.
Another loud clunk, and my lungs found air and my voice caught up with me.
“Stop!” I yelled.
The lift stopped, as abruptly and violently as if it had hit bottom. I braced myself, legs wide and hips low, and broke my fall with my elbows and knees, but Harken wasn’t so lucky. I heard him slam into the floor, and he lay silent for several seconds while I said a silent prayer.
Then he moaned and sat up slowly. “Welcome to the thirteenth floor.”
“It’s in the basement?”
“This isn’t the basement,” he said. “We didn’t fall.”
“The knot on my ass—” I pulled the gilded cage open and crawled outside. “—says different.”
As soon as I cleared the lift, the cage slammed shut, capturing Harken inside. “No!” he yelled and leaped, but he was too slow. The accordion gate locked, almost slicing his fingers off. “Open up!”
He rammed the gate, then tried to pry it open with the poker, but it would not give. “It’s too short. See if you can find a long pipe or something to help me wedge it open,” he said. “Stay close. Make sure I can see you.”
“And I’m the bossy pants?” I said and swept the area with my cell’s light. All I found was empty metal shelves collecting a dust. “Maybe we can use one of the shelves if I can take them apart.”
I took one step away from the elevator and heard a child’s laughter. “Devon!” I said. “Harken! It’s my sister! Devon, hang on!”
“No!” Harken yelled. “It’s a trap!”
“It’s Devon!” I said, sure of what I’d heard. “You have to find your own way out!”
“I said, do not leave!” he yelled.
“I am going,” I yelled back, “to get my sister!”
Room 1313. Find it. Trade the egg. Rescue Devon. Head on a swivel. Stick on the ice. Control time and space. Get your head in the game, Conning. Then I remembered something and held out my hand to him. “Give me the egg.”
“No. Wait for me to get out,” he said. “If she takes it from you, you’re both dead.”
“Never mind! There’s no time to argue.” I turned heel and hurried away. “I’ll find her myself!”
“Damned stubborn Connings! Wait!” he said and pushed his hand through the gate. He held out his hand, and I shone my phone light on it. In his palm were a few mangled coins. They looked like old tokens for the T. His voice softened. “Take these, just in case.”
“I need to go!” I said, but pocketed them. My cell’s light danced along the floor until the beam found the outline of a door. It was a massive oak thing made of thick planks joined with rusted iron straps. The knob was a huge iron ring. I wrapped both hands around it, the rust dissolving in my palms, and pulled hard.
“Slow down!” Harken called. “You have no bloody idea what’s waiting on the other side!”
“Do you know what’s inside?” I swung my light back to him. His face was pressed against the accordion gate, and one hand was searching, as if he could reach me if he just strained hard enough. “Have you been here before?”
“I served her, remember? I know how she thinks!”
Maybe you still serve her, I thought darkly. “Knock three times on the gates of hell,” I said and rapped on the planks.
With a dull clunk the lock gave way. The door swung open, revealing a hallway full of doors that stretched out past the beam of my light. They were painted sickly green and trimmed in yellowed white. They were out of place in the dank hallway that stank of mold and dead leaves, but they weren’t the only thing off-kilter. The floors undulated and sloped hard to the left, and the walls and ceiling joined at wrong angles.
Boom! A clap of thunder shook the building so hard, debris fell from the ceiling. The dust danced like snowflakes in the light beam until a second boom shook, and my light went out. I tapped my phone against the heel of my hand. The light brightened for a moment, then choked again.
A familiar singsong voice whispered, “Yesterday, upon the stair. I found a girl who was not there. A doll of paper she became. Oh, wish, oh, wish, the girl would hang.”
I stood still as death. Waiting and holding my breath and praying that in the silent shadows I had only imagined the sound. My ears rang, filling with static until the air in my lungs was spent and it felt like I was creating a vacuum in my own chest.
“I like . . . ,” the voice whispered. “ . . . your thumbs.”
“Devon?” I said and exhaled.
I was answered with a peal of laughter, followed by a thundering boom. It started on the far end of the hallway, a deep percussive thud that echoed through the wall. The hammering came closer, moving from door to door.
Closer.
Closer.
“Let me alone!” I screamed. “Get out of my goddamn head!”
The sound died, and the hallway fell silent.
“Jesus,” I whispered, wishing that Harken were with me. Should I go back for him? I wondered.
Then came the footsteps, the padding of little feet like breath condensing on cold glass, moving across the floor. I heard the sounds of climbing, of soles on wooden steps, then another laugh before silence fell again.
“Devon?” I called. “Are you there?”
Then a clattering crash and a sound like rope being stretched. The air moved gently, like something—someone—was swinging in the wind. It was too much. The stretching sound was too much, and I couldn’t bear to stand still another second.
Right behind me a door slammed, and suddenly I felt a hand pressing against my mouth, and a strong hand seized my coat. I screamed, “No!” I was not going to be caught this way!
“Willow Jane!” Harken said, and my phone light flickered to life. It shone onto his face. “Stop! It’s me!”
“You asshole!” I punched his shoulder, then punched it again. “You scared me to death.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You asshole!” I hissed and would’ve slapped him if rusty hinges hadn’t squeaked and a door hadn’t scraped open. “Please tell me you heard that.”
“I heard that.”
Harken raised the poker. The nearest door, which had been closed seconds before, swung closed, as if someone had just darted into the room—someone laughing.
“It’s my sister,” I whispered.
“Wait,” he said.
But I pushed the door open, crossed myself, and stepped inside.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
A single bare bulb hung by a thread from the high ceiling, casting harsh light on the floors and walls. The room was empty. No
furniture, no decorations, no Devon, and only a hint of rot in the air, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that something was lurking in corners.
Reluctantly I backed out. “Which way now?” I said.
“Follow me.”
Harken walked slowly into the blackness with the poker, then veered abruptly to the left. I snagged his coat and fought the urge to grab his hand. We cut to the right, then the left again, my shoes slipping on the dust-coated floor. Harken stopped short, and I plowed into him. My mouth hit his shoulder blade, and I felt something warm on my chin.
“What’s wrong?” Harken said as he faced me.
I splayed out my fingers. “Blood.”
A handkerchief appeared in his hand. “Wipe it off.”
“I’m okay. It’s just a little cut lip.” I held the cloth to my mouth. “The bleeding’s almost stopped.”
“Good.” He took the handkerchief, folded it carefully, and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Malleus shouldn’t see your blood.”
“Why not?” I said.
“The blood of the Uncanny drives—” He stopped as the sound of soft cawing drifted down the corridor. “Music.”
“Where’s it coming from?” I said.
“Your phone, please?” he said and held it up to illuminate the ceiling. There was only sagging wallpaper and decrepit plaster above, peeling from the ceiling like flecks of dead skin.
“It’s not coming from the ceiling,” I said.
“No, from the heating vents,” he said. “Look at the walls.”
“Oh my god,” I said. The wallpaper was flayed open, revealing jarring and disjointed red letters, all spelling out the same words hundreds of times: BLOOD WILL HAVE BLOOD. “Is that for us?”
“Malleus’s idea of a welcome. Don’t let it bother you.”
Right, I thought. It was just wallpaper. That looked like skin. Flayed skin. “Still got the egg?” I asked. “Because I’m sick of being screwed with. It’s time to do this.”
“It’s right here.” Harken pulled it from his back pocket. “Remember, when the moment comes, we must give it to Malleus.”
“The egg for Devon’s life,” I said angrily, “is a trade I’d make every day for eternity.”
We made our way down the hall. We passed one, two, three doors. Harken tried each, only to find it locked, and none of them was numbered. With every step my eyes watered more, the tears occluding my vision, like I was swimming underwater in a murky pool. Malleus’s stench grew stronger, and every breath stung my lungs, the fumes leaving a metallic flavor in my mouth.
“Shh!” Harken said sharply and pointed at a door, mouthing the word Here.
I heard the sound of flat chirps and caws, like an off-tune flute. The door was several inches narrower than the others and higher, too, with ornate carvings in the wood and etching on the crystal knob. It looked like the lid of a casket.
Harken tapped the door and then reached for the knob.
The door blew open, and a murder of crows burst forth, cawing and screeching, black wings beating the air, attacking us with beaks and claws, ripping at our flesh with ferocious anger. I threw my hands up to protect my face, stumbled backward, and slammed into the wall.
I rolled to the floor, swatting at the birds. “Get off me! Get off!”
They vanished.
As suddenly as we were attacked, the crows were gone. All that remained was a pile of rotting feathers on the ruined carpet, and inside the empty room Harken kicked mounds of feathers aside. No Devon. No furniture. Just an old, crumbling fireplace, stained walls, and rotted floors. He cursed and kicked again, then shut the door behind him.
“Not there, damn it,” he said, sounding more agitated.
“Let’s keep moving.” Steading myself on the wall, I got to my feet, just as a wave of noxious odor seeped past me. “Jeezum, it smells like something died.”
“She did.” Harken held my phone light close to the wall, which was covered in paper that had been ripped to shreds, like huge claws had flayed it, and found a button switch. He punched it with a finger, and one after the other, three hanging bulbs started burning. “Malleus always leaves a trail of stench.”
But it wasn’t the Shadowless we smelled.
I bumped my head on something hard. I screamed and jumped back against the wall, then screamed louder. Harken raised a hand to calm me, but it was useless. My whole body shook as I pointed up. He followed my gaze with the phone light. The glow shone on a pair of dirty bare feet dangling at eye level. The broken toenails were painted dark purple, and though the polish was chipped, I recognized the shade. Siobhan and I had been seated next to her when the pedicurist applied it a week ago.
“Kelly,” I cried. “Oh, Kelly.” Her body rotated slowly, dirty hair hiding her face but not the rope digging into the bulging purple-black skin of her neck. “Please, cut her down.”
“She’s dead, poor thing,” he replied and tried to hide the light. He reached out to comfort me. “And there’s no time to help her.”
“She was my friend!” I knocked his hand away, then yanked the phone back. “Don’t tell me not to help. Cut her down, or I will.”
“I will,” he said. “I need something to stand on. Wait here.”
“Hurry,” I said and raised the light again. It made my stomach turn to look at her, but I had to see it. I had to be witness to what Malleus had done. “Kelly, I’m so sorry.”
Kelly’s eyes popped open.
I screamed, “Harken!”
Laughter trickled heating vents, and Malleus stepped out of the shadows. “So kind of you to join the fun, Uncanny. Do you like the present we left you?”
“Oh, my effing god,” I whispered as I saw her clearly for the first time.
She carried tailor’s shears as long as her forearm. Her face looked like a mask: The flesh was mottled and pocked with deep scars, and the skin was so pale it seemed translucent. But it was the eyes that made me shiver—black as midnight, the irises reflecting the naked light. Hanging from her neck, like mummified ornaments, was a string of thumbs. There were dozens, the necklace long and looped.
“Do you like our thumbs?” Malleus licked her razor-thin lips. “Shall we add your sister’s to our collection?”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
“NOT my sister, you bitch!” I yelled and lowered my shoulder. Square up. Stay low. Drive through the body. Check her hard. But before I could charge, Malleus seized my forearm.
“Give us the egg!” she demanded.
“Give back my sister first!” I yelled. “Harken!” Where was he?
Her bony fingers dug into my skin, and I could feel hard, swollen knuckles grinding into my muscles. She had an iron grip I couldn’t break, even when I checked her, slamming a forearm to her shoulder. There was a sound of cracking bone, but Malleus held me tight.
“The price to be paid in flesh!” She pinned me to the wall with one hand and raised the shears above my head. “The price to be paid in blood!”
“No!” Harken said, swinging the poker and jamming it between the blades of the shears. He grabbed both ends of the steel shaft and shoved her back. She barely yielded, and they stood deadlocked, both of them towering over me, roaring and cursing, before Harken tore the poker free and swung wildly, making her dodge, forcing her farther away from me.
Eyes up! I told myself. Move! But I didn’t. My feet stayed planted, like I was sinking into mud. Harken attacked again, using the poker like a gaff, stabbing Malleus in the chest. His eyes met mine. They were wild and silently screaming, Go! And yet I couldn’t.
“You cannot kill.’’ Malleus laughed and pulled the sharp tip out of her rib cage. “What is not dead.”
Harken spun around and threw a roundhouse uppercut that caught her chin. Crack! Her jawbone broke, and she howled. “Willow Jane!” he barked. “Wake up! Find your sister! I’ll deal with Malleus.”
“You have defiled us!” she screeched, then roared into Harken, slamming him against the wall. Her shears tore out ch
unks of plaster as she tried to stab him again and again as he barely got the poker up to block her. “Too slow!” Malleus said as she suddenly shoved him away. “Too weak! You cannot hurt us, familiar!”
Maybe he couldn’t hurt her, but he could buy me time to find Devon, and that’s what he was trying to do. Off your ass, Conning! I rolled away and jumped to my feet, shoving the phone in my pocket. I ducked back down the hallway, turned a corner, and found a stretch of rooms that went on forever.
I ran to the first door.
It was number 1313.
The clock ticks, Uncanny.
I kicked the door open. “Devon!”
The room was empty, the windows boarded up, the walls plastered with cobwebs, a thick carpet of dust on the floor. It looked like no one had been inside in decades.
I heard a child scream. “Devon!” I yelled and ran back into the hallway and to the next room down.
It was number 1313.
“What the hell?”
She wasn’t there. Not in that room 1313, or the next 1313 or the next. Each time I burst in, it was the same boarded-up windows and empty, cobwebbed spaces until finally I reached the last door. What if Devon isn’t in there? No, Devon had to be here. Malleus wanted the egg more than she wanted my sister. What good would it do her to trick us?
I twisted the knob.
Locked.
Open! I kicked the lock stile, and unlike the other flimsy doors, it held fast. I kicked it again. Something did not want me in the room, but by God, I was getting inside!
Then I heard flapping wings.
I tensed up to ram it with my shoulder, but the door swung open.
“Devon!”
A single bare bulb lit the room. The window was wasn’t boarded up like the others, and cobwebs hung like sheets, In the middle of the room Devon lay on a stone table, a heavy wooden board pressing on her chest. Rooks were gathering pebbles from the floor and piling them on the board, adding to the growing mound, the weight ounce by ounce crushing my sister.
“More weight!” they cawed, mimicking a man’s voice. “More weight!”
Uncanny Page 23
