by Al K. Line
This was gonna go one of two ways.
Tug of War
I felt like the skinny kid stuck with his weak mates, pulling for all they were worth in a game of tug-o-war. Whilst those on the other end of the rope were the big guys, laughing and joking about, hardly making any effort at all.
Leaning back with all the strength I could muster, I dug my heels into the floor and willed myself to be heavy. I quickly pulled Wand out again and used a much more forceful version of the spell that locked Vicky out to push the air in the room directly at me. My hat blew off, my clothes flapped madly as the air pummeled me in waves like a hurricane, yet my feet still slid across the floor.
I would be sucked back through the Path, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Closer and closer I got, the Path smaller but holding, and it was then, as I looked into the void, that I realized what was happening.
Sasha wasn't closing the Path, she was keeping it open, thinking it had to remain that way for her and George to be sucked back through from the other side.
"Close it. You have to release it and let it close," I shouted, not knowing if my words were getting through, very much doubting they were.
Guess I should have discussed this properly with Sasha, rather than a few nods and winks and me thinking we were communicating expertly with just a glance.
The gaping maw of a very uncomfortable, and undoubtedly short-lived future mocked me with its presence. The rope extended from my midsection right into the heart of this gap in space-time, and it was beating me. I was being pulled relentlessly forward, the power of the cages too much for the rope to beat.
My magic waned, past its peak, and the rope shortened as it returned to its usual length as a rather compact artifact.
Kind of a shame it was tied tight around my chiseled six-pack. It was there, honest, just under a layer or two of flesh that hung looser than I'd have liked.
No problem, as the rope was going to ensure I had the smallest waist in history as it tightened and shrank.
Was I wrong about all this? Was Sasha actually trying to close the Path but couldn't because of the rope, or maybe because I'd interfered with it? Was this all one big, very deadly mistake?
Seemed that way.
But I wouldn't give up, and as the wind howled and the rope cut through clothes and into flesh, and ribs began to bend, soon to crack, I nonetheless dug my heels in and willed the noose to remain its current size.
Guess I wasn't as powerful as I'd imagined, or hoped, as there was a sudden tug and I flew forward, almost losing my balance. Damn, was this really how it ended? No, it couldn't be. I wouldn't lose George, I wouldn't lose Sasha, and I would not lose myself either.
I redoubled my efforts, gave it all I had and then some. Sweat poured from me, my waist was being sliced right through, the rope shortened, yet I flung my body back and away, refusing to be beaten.
With determination born of stubbornness and a refusal to ever lose, I gripped the rope stretching out in front of me and pulled for all I was worth.
No way would I ever be that weak kid again, getting yanked into a muddy puddle by the big boys so they could mock me and other children like me. I would hold on until the end like I had when a child, even if it meant losing. Give it all you've got, I said now, just like when I'd been pulled into the mud and lost and the large boys loomed, taunting me. I'd smiled back at them from the ground, not caring, because I knew I'd tried hard, and I knew I had something they didn't.
Conviction.
I may have been weaker and smaller than them but I would grow stronger, and nobody would ever laugh at me. Not that the laughing bothered me. I had tried, and that was what counted, but I hated that they thought they were better than me, than any of us who'd lost.
It's not physical strength that makes you a man, it's compassion and love for others. Inner strength born of the knowledge that you care.
I cared, and I wouldn't lose.
The Path shrank, the wind screamed, my ribs cracked, and with a sudden jolt the rope shortened, ripped me off my feet, and sent me flying headlong into the void.
Good, or Very Bad?
At least I'm not going to die instantly, was about as optimistic as I got as I gripped the rope tight and sailed toward the world of Faery once again. Sure, I'd be catapulted back into the cell to meet whatever fate awaited George and Sasha, but it wouldn't be an end to the Hat instantly. I still didn't know what was going on there, why they were imprisoned as they were, but at least I could be with them before the end.
It was small consolation, as I'd wanted to be the hero in all this, save the damsels in distress. Which may be sexist, but who doesn't want to be seen as the big strong hero come to save the beautiful women?
Guess I'd blown it.
Suddenly, I halted mid-air.
Something wrapped around my ankle and gripped like a vice. The rope cut deeper into my middle; soon I'd be sliced in two. It must be Vicky and maybe even Juice, grabbing me, trying to save me.
I shouted into the Path, "Sasha, let it go. Close it," knowing soon I'd be dragged in no matter how hard Vicky held on. Actually, I was surprised she could do this, as she was about as strong as a lettuce. A limp one.
Straining, I turned my head to look back, and instantly regretted telling Sasha to close the portal.
The door was open, Vicky and Juice were standing there terrified, and the Hangman was holding on to my ankle, unmoving, seemingly able to resist the tug of the Path with ease.
"My rope," he said.
"Yeah, about that," I ventured.
Damn, what now?
With no time to think up, let alone implement, a cunning plan, something changed as my magic died, the air pressure now seeming like folly.
The Hangman yanked, the Path stuttered, and I was pulled backward as the hole shrank until it was fist-sized, with the rope seemingly cut off where it went through.
I dropped down to the ground as the Hangman released me. The rope went slack.
For a moment, I thought it must have been severed, but then it grew tight again and the task of sawing me in two continued. Tighter and tighter, as I was dragged forward once again, but the Hangman wasn't happy about that, probably wanted to ensure I remained put so he could hang me for good this time. He pulled on my legs and tugged harder and harder until I was sure I'd be torn in two.
I was on my back now, staring into his cold eyes. He showed no signs of emotion, merely pulled, stretching me out as he stepped back, his incongruous shiny trainers confusing me. Why not cowboy boots or something more in keeping with the rest of his outfit? Weird.
"You escaped me. Now you must die," he said, seemingly deciding now was a good time to have a chat.
"Maybe later?" I ventured.
"Now." He heaved, and I screamed as he pulled me impossibly hard.
I watched in dismay as the knot around my waist began to unravel, and with it my dreams of saving George and Sasha.
But then as the knot came free, the air whirled in a familiar way and the Path stretched and widened as faery dust poured through.
I slammed into the floor, the Hangman released me, the rope went slack, and the Path blinked out of existence as two cages crashed to the floor, rattling like a monkey playing several xylophones with spoons.
Faery dust filled the room, George and Sasha screamed and cried as every part of their bodies burned from touching the bars, but then the magic died, the wards broken as they weren't meant for this place, but for Faery. Sasha and George reached out, muttering something inaudible, and gripped the bars tight without hesitation.
Metal screeched as it was bent like rubber, and then they wrenched simultaneously, pulling the bars out of their frames, and were through and standing beside me as I got carefully to my feet.
We stood, facing the Hangman, me clutching my ribs and gasping for air, my lungs on fire after being so constricted. A fae stood either side of me, each carrying a four-foot metal bar, resting them on their shoulders, looking beauti
ful and scary and most of all alive.
"That went pretty well," I said, and put an arm around each of them.
"You all die," growled the hangman.
Naughty Boy
"I really can't catch a break," I whined.
Sasha and George looked at me funny.
"What?"
"We were in a cage!" they both snapped at the same time.
"Oh, yeah. About that. Who was it? Did I ask?"
"No, you didn't," said Sasha, her sweet smile returning.
"Love you," I replied as I gave them both an extra tight squeeze. "Right, this is the Hangman. Sasha, the Hangman. George, you've already met him, I believe."
"Dad, stop messing about."
"Pleased to meet you, Hangman," said Sasha. She lifted my arm from her shoulder, hefted her bar, then seemingly thought better of it and dropped it. She walked forward, sashaying like her life depended on it, but that was just how she always moved, and held out a hand.
The Hangman looked at it, then at her, then offered his own hand.
But it wasn't to shake and make friends, his rope, the artifact, snaked across the floor then leaped into his open hand. He clutched it tight, smiled, baring discolored teeth, and then backhanded Sasha across the cheek.
The room fell silent. This was Sasha; you didn't hit her. It was like smacking an angel, although actually I've done that, so maybe let's say it was like smacking a cute puppy after it had just brought you your slippers.
Sasha put a hand to her face, then spat out blood that sparkled before it fizzed and disappeared. She lowered her dirty hand, still beautiful and elegant as always, and smiled at the Hangman.
"That's not very nice. I wanted to make friends."
The Hangman glared at her, then at me. His face told nothing about his intentions, but it was obvious to me. He wanted me, because I was meant to hang, and I guess he didn't like leaving things unfinished.
"Just run," shouted Vicky from the hallway.
"No, dear, we need to end this," said Sasha.
Shame, as I was all for taking Vicky up on her suggestion. "How?" I asked.
"He's not here for us. You got caught up in his business, that's all. What's this really about?" asked Sasha, squaring up to the Hangman, unafraid even after everything she'd been through.
He said nothing, remained still like he had all the time in the world. Guess he did.
"It's all Juice's fault. He summoned him to kill his mum, and some goons, and now he's free to do whatever he wants."
Sasha turned to me, looking confused. "You think that's how it works? That's not how it works at all, is it?" she asked, turning back to the Hangman.
I was confused. What was she talking about? The Hangman remained silent.
"It is too," piped up Juice, still lingering by the door.
"No, it isn't." Sasha scowled at him. Juice retreated further.
"Who's running you?"
The Hangman said nothing.
"I told you, it was Juice," I said, more concerned with getting out alive and finding out who had taken them and what we were going to do about it.
"It wasn't. If the Hangman had done what he was summoned to do, he would be back in his own land. You can't beat the rules, it's part of what he is, how he's here at all. A creature of limbo, drawn back from the dead to do the bidding of his... No, that can't be right? You spared Juice, this feeble man?"
The Hangman nodded.
Sasha was lost deep in thought, I was just lost.
"What? Tell us?"
"This creature is not a manifestation of people's fears as many believe. He's a real person, at least he was. And he does what is asked of him if you have the noose, before returning to his limbo world."
"Well, he didn't."
"No, because someone summoned him before Juice. It's the only logical explanation. Let me think. This must be tied to our imprisonment. I had thought it was a relative of mine, come to seek revenge for things past, but now..."
"Sasha, you're driving me nuts here. What's this all about?"
Sasha put up a hand while she thought, but I'd had enough. I reached for Wand, thinking maybe I could at least distract the Hangman who was turning his head, searching the room. He was gonna do something, right now.
Before Wand was out and I could blast him, even if it wouldn't do more than annoy him, he was a blur. He ran from the room, barged past Vicky, knocked Juice on his ass, then was gone.
The rope was left behind. This was an artifact of the human world, he couldn't take it with him.
"Mind telling me what that was all about?" I asked.
Sasha smiled, and said, "First, I would like to clean up."
"Me too," said George.
"Let's go to mine, upstairs is a bit messy here."
The Gang's All Here
I was about to go smack Juice so he would be unconscious for the trip again, but Sasha wiggled her hips so they propelled her across the room then smiled at him sweetly instead.
"Poor thing," she said, and with that Juice went blank. He swayed, eyes unfocused, utterly under her thrall. He wouldn't remember a thing, and it sure beat carrying him.
Vicky called Ivan and checked on the children, which took longer than expected. She looked dazed when she came back into the room where we waited, just talking about what had happened, leaving the important stuff for when we were safe. Or safer, anyway.
"What's the matter?" I asked, fearing the girls had been hurt.
"It's... We've... The girls are fine, that's the main thing." Vicky ran her hands down her ponytail, wincing at the dirt and gore. "We've been away for a week," she blurted. "Ivan said we've been gone seven days. How can that be right? It felt like a while, a day or two, but a week!"
"That's the fae for you," I said cheerily. "Um, no offense to the fae in the room."
"None taken," said Sasha.
I looked at George but she was quiet. "George, you okay?"
"Sorry, it's been a terrible time. It may have been a week here, but it was months for me. I dread to think how long it was for Sasha."
"Oh, never you mind about that," said Sasha sweetly.
I caught the look on her face; she'd been through something far worse, that was certain. Could it have been longer than George had experienced? I guess it could.
"Come on, let's go." I picked up my hat, settled Grace back where she belonged, and also grabbed the rope. It coiled up tight, shrank, and I put it in a pocket. I had the feeling I'd need it, as this obviously wasn't over.
Reeling from all that had happened, knowing this wouldn't be concluded here, and craving the comfort of my own home, I ushered George out into the hallway. Sasha followed behind. George was stiff, and her eyes were glassy. She was in shock. It was understandable. She'd had a hard life, and since moving in with me had been involved in many dangerous things. She'd had her home blown up, us nearly along with it, seen me in all kinds of terrible situations, been in a few herself, but this was different.
She was properly scared, so had retreated inside herself to get away from whatever had happened.
Vicky took to the stairs but I shouted, "No!" a little too loudly.
She turned, already halfway up and said, "Arthur, what's got into you? I'm just going to grab some things."
"You can't. Don't go up there. You've got things at our house, and Ivan has plenty of clothes for the girls, so do I. Come back down, we have to leave right now. It's too dangerous here. The body, remember?"
Vicky glanced up the stairs and asked, "How bad can it be?"
"Trust me, worse than you can imagine. Please, I don't want you to go up there."
Vicky was undecided, but Sasha intervened and said, "Arthur's right. Let's go. There's nothing for us here but danger at the moment."
Sasha went to Vicky, took her hand, and led her out the door. Last thing I wanted was Vicky screaming and going mad about the dead guy in her bedroom.
Outside, the warm evening air, for it was evening now, was a delight. Ther
e was a hint of a breeze that soothed my troubled mind; the smell of the neighbors' freshly cut lawn was the loveliest thing I'd ever smelled. That made me think of the fields of flowers, and my mood darkened.
"Let's go home," I said, putting my arm around George and guiding her.
I realized I had no idea if I had a car here or not. Things were so muddled that I couldn't think straight, recall when we'd come or how. I felt around in my pockets, found several sets of keys, and pressed the fobs. A car's lights flashed and the wing mirrors opened out. Looked like we had a ride.
Sasha stayed close to Juice, Vicky kept staring at me with a lot of questions, and George with concern. We piled in, I drove to the semi, and in no time we were through the gates then back in my lovely kitchen.
As if on autopilot, I turned on the TV, even managed to work the remotes to get a Buster Keaton short on, and for fifteen minutes the room was filled with nothing but flickering images from another era.
For the first time in my life, I didn't laugh at his antics.
Things were worse than I'd thought.
Casualties
George remained quiet and vacant even with coffee. Everyone was worried about her, even though we were all beat up, Sasha and Vicky worse than me.
"Let's get you cleaned up," said Vicky kindly to George.
George nodded, mumbled incoherently, and stood.
I hugged her, said, "Everything will be okay," and kissed the top of her head. George just nodded, eyes averted, and was led away.
Sasha stayed behind, even though she must have ached to return to her homeland and prepare for whatever sinister, terrible acts of revenge she had in mind.
"Can we talk?" I asked.
"Not yet. I need to think. None of this feels quite right and I want to make sense of it."
"Okay, but can you tell me who it was at least? Who did this to you?"
"I don't know. A woman, but I've never seen her before. She was unfamiliar, but she was fae. Part fae, anyway. She took me, Arthur. Me! And she knew about my past, about what had gone on before. Something doesn't fit."
