by Derek Landy
“We’ll wait here for you,” said Virgil. “If we see anyone coming, we’ll honk the horn and look nonchalant. Better hurry, though. Anyone comes through the front door and you’re on your own.”
Ronnie was the first out, then Warrick and Linda and the dog. Before he left the car, Milo leaned towards the driver.
“Mr Abernathy,” he said, “I’m a big fan. I used to watch your show all the time. I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t remember much about my life up until twelve years ago. But I remember your show.”
“Well, hell, I guess it’s something to be remembered by an amnesiac.”
“Do you recognise me?” Javier said, smiling.
Milo frowned. “Should I?”
Javier’s face soured. Amber nudged Milo and he climbed out. She followed, and Kelly closed the door after them.
They climbed the wall, congregated round the store’s heavy rear door. Kelly gave the place a quick scan. “No alarm,” she said. “I love small towns.” She took a black pouch from her pocket and knelt by the door.
“Locks are her specialty,” said Linda.
Kelly looked back at Amber and grinned. “I break into a lot of places.”
Ronnie was looking at Milo. “I’ve been thinking about your plan,” he said.
“Not my plan,” Milo replied. “Her plan.”
“Well then, Amber, I’ve been thinking about it,” Ronnie said, “and I have a question. What happens if it works and the barrier does come down?”
“Uh, then the Hounds come in and the people tear them apart.”
“That might solve your problem, but so what? We drive off, but next year it happens all over again.”
“Not with Jesper dead.”
“But there’ll still be the Narrow Man. What’s to stop him from sacrificing more kids?”
“I don’t … I don’t know.”
“You’re doing this for yourself,” Ronnie said. “I get that, I do. But we’re not leaving here until Austin is safe and this whole Hell Night thing is dismantled. Having you two around would give us a much better chance of doing that and getting out of here alive.”
“We’re not the heroes, kid,” Milo said. “You are.”
“So you’d be willing to just drive away and let this continue?”
“No,” said Amber quickly. “We wouldn’t.”
“Yes, we would,” Milo said.
“We wouldn’t. We’re … we’re not going to.”
Milo shot her a disapproving look, but didn’t argue further. Amber looked at Ronnie.
“I mean … I guess we could try to kill the Narrow Man as well. Along the way. If we get the chance.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” said Kelly, straightening up. She turned the handle, and pushed the door open. “We have entry.”
Warrick took out the T-shirt he’d stolen from the Cookes’ laundry basket and hunkered down, letting Two catch the scent. “Okay, boy,” he said, “you got that? Yes, you do. Yes, you do. That’s Austin, okay? He’s why we’re here. Good doggy. Now go find him.”
He released his hold on Two’s collar and the dog hurried into the store. They followed.
The store had a big front window, but it was filled with displays and decals that blocked much of the morning light. It was a small place, with four rows of shelves packed close together, each shelf laden with tools and equipment and thousands of small parts that Amber would never know the names of. It smelled of sawdust and oil.
“He’s found something,” Warrick said.
Amber joined the others over by the hose display. Two snuffled madly at the floor, then started scratching at the wall.
“You sure, boy?” Warrick asked. “You sure Austin’s behind there?”
Amber half expected Two to give a bark in response, but apparently that wasn’t necessary. Warrick attached a leash to Two’s collar and led him away, and Ronnie and Linda stepped up, knocking on the wall.
“There’s something behind this,” Ronnie said. He took down the hoses as Linda ran her hands along the surface, searching for a join.
“It’s a door,” she said. “But the mechanism to open it could be anywhere.”
“I found it,” said Milo, stepping forward with an axe in his hands. He shifted into his demon form, and Linda and Ronnie took an involuntary step away. Even Amber, who had seen him like this a half-dozen times, found her eyes threatening to once again sink into that impossible black.
Two growled, then barked, and when he saw that no one was freaking out he bounded forward, sniffed Milo’s leg happily before Warrick tugged him back. Milo swung the axe into the wall.
Amber found an identical axe in the next aisle, and shifted as she came back. She hacked at the door alongside Milo, building a tireless rhythm between them. The plaster fell away and the wood behind splintered. Cool air wafted through the gaps. Amber’s muscles were strong. Her aim was true. She was so much better as a demon.
Now they could hear someone shouting, and it all went faster, each of them taking a side and chopping it down until the stairs were revealed.
Milo reverted. Amber, reluctantly, did the same. Milo went first and she followed, still gripping the axe. The others came after.
“Austin?” Milo called.
“Here! Down here!”
They descended into a deep, soundproofed basement. In one corner, there was a narrow mattress and blanket and a chain that ran from the floor to Austin Cooke’s ankle.
Linda and Ronnie rushed forward.
“You okay?” said Ronnie. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m okay,” Austin said. “Please get me out of here. He put the key on the nail there.”
Linda hurried to the wall, grabbed the key, and took it back to the boy. The padlock opened easily and tears came to Austin’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he said. “I thought he was gonna kill me. Thank you.”
Ronnie straightened up and patted his shoulder. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe, okay? You’re not in danger anymore, Austin. You’re with us now.”
Then Two started barking like the Devil himself had arrived, and they turned to see the Narrow Man coming down the stairs.
THE NARROW MAN DIDN’T move with any sense of urgency. A tall man, with quiet eyes set too far apart in his pale face. A wide, thin mouth.
Austin whimpered, and Ronnie shielded him as they all backed away. Two’s barks turned to growls, low in his throat, and Warrick kept a tight grip on the leash.
Milo didn’t have to draw fast. He just took his gun from its holster, held it level with his waist. “We’re taking the boy with us,” he said.
The Narrow Man didn’t answer, so Milo made a show of aiming for his leg.
“Give us the key – the one that takes you to Naberius. Hand it over and we won’t need to hurt you.”
When the Narrow Man didn’t speak, Milo shrugged, and pulled the trigger. Amber flinched at the gunshot, saw the bullet pass through the Narrow Man’s leg and burrow into the floor behind him. But there was no blood, no reaction, and definitely no screaming.
“Huh,” said Milo, and fired again and again, emptying the gun into the Narrow Man’s chest and head.
The bullet holes gaped. There was no red inside. No flesh. Just more of that same colourless skin, the texture of putty.
Milo holstered his gun, shifted, and swung the axe at the Narrow Man’s head. The Narrow Man ducked, almost lazily, moving fast without seeming to hurry. Milo spun, swung again, but the Narrow Man grabbed the axe and pulled Milo into him. Milo snarled, red spilling from between his clenched teeth, and got a hand to the Narrow Man’s throat and powered him backwards.
“Go,” Amber said to the others as she shifted.
“We’re staying,” said Ronnie.
“Take Austin and run,” she snarled. She knew they would. Their priority was protecting Austin, not fighting this shape-changing thing. Let the monsters fight the monster.
Warrick pick
ed up Two and ran, with Ronnie and Linda dragging a terrified Austin behind them and Kelly following them all up the stairs. The Narrow Man shoved Milo away from him and Amber lunged, her axe blurring. She missed the Narrow Man’s neck by a mere hair’s breadth. He turned and she slammed her shoulder into his chest. He went stumbling and Milo kicked his legs from under him.
The Narrow Man fell and Amber and Milo brought their axes down. Their adversary twisted his body impossibly, like he didn’t have any bones, and the axes bit into the ground. Then he snapped back into shape and lashed a foot into Amber’s knee. Even as she was crying out, she was falling, and then she was on the floor, struggling with the Narrow Man.
Though it wasn’t much of a struggle. Her strength meant nothing compared to his, and while her claws left deep furrows in his bloodless arms they brought him no pain that she could recognise. He got an arm around her throat from behind. Her black scales rose in defence, but he was squeezing against them, too, and all of a sudden she couldn’t breathe.
Milo stopped trying to get a clear shot to the Narrow Man’s head. Instead, he stomped on a leg, and brought the axe down. Amber glimpsed the Narrow Man’s foot tumble away from them.
The Narrow Man didn’t seem to notice.
Desperate for air, Amber put all of her strength into turning on to her side and then heaving herself on to her belly. With the Narrow Man still on her back, Milo now had all the targets he could ever want. She heard the axe fall again and again, could only imagine what damage it was doing. But the choke stayed on. She was close to unconsciousness.
And then all of a sudden she was gasping, sucking in air and rolling over, her eyes blurred with tears. Milo and the Narrow Man were locked together, fighting for control of the axe as they stumbled away from her. The Narrow Man’s shirt was in shreds. So was his skin. Milo’s red eyes were mere slits. He was snarling.
The Narrow Man stepped back without warning and Milo lost his balance, lost his hold, and the axe was torn from his hands as he fell to his knees.
Amber grabbed her own axe, launched herself at the Narrow Man. He spun, deflected her axe with his own. She swung again, and again he deflected, and a thought swept in from nowhere, that they were sword-fighting with axes. Before she could register how insane this was, his axe blade cracked against the scales on her shoulder and suddenly he was twisting her axe from her grip.
Holding an axe in each hand, the Narrow Man limped over to his severed foot and shoved his stump on to it, and it reattached.
Milo grabbed Amber, pushed her towards the stairs, and they ran.
Amber led the way into the store. The front door was open. She ignored it, went for the door out back, Milo right behind her. She crashed through. She jumped the wall, clearing it easily, landed beside the Sienna. Milo jumped down with her. Kelly had the door open, but her eyes flicked upwards.
“Look out!” she cried.
The Narrow Man landed between Amber and Milo. Amber dodged under the swipe of the axe, but Milo lunged at him. The Narrow Man dropped one axe and slammed Milo’s head against the wall, then caught him as he stumbled and threw him on to the hood of the Sienna. The windshield cracked under the impact.
Amber glimpsed Austin’s terrified face through the car window. The Narrow Man hadn’t seen him yet.
“Hey!” she shouted, scrambling up. “Hey, asshole! Come get me!”
The Narrow Man didn’t need much in the way of encouragement. Hefting the remaining axe in his right hand, he broke into a run so sudden that it took her by surprise. Amber cursed as she whirled, sure that at any moment that axe would cleave her head in two. Then she was running, fuelled by instinct and fear, the Narrow Man right behind her and gaining all the time.
She jumped another wall, found herself stumbling through someone’s unkempt backyard. The Narrow Man landed cleanly. She threw a lawn chair at him and ran round the side of the house. She tripped on a loose brick, got a hand to a windowsill, and rebounded off, leaving a bloody handprint behind. She was hurt. Jesus, she was hurt and bleeding and she didn’t even know where the wound was.
A car passed on the street ahead. People walked. Kids laughed. She checked behind her, made sure the Narrow Man wasn’t about to pounce, and reverted. Instantly, the pain swarmed in and she gasped. Her shoulder. Her scales hadn’t stopped the axe from biting into her shoulder. Now she could feel the blood rushing from her wound, soaking her chest and belly and back, running into her jeans and underwear. She left a trail of blood as she stumbled from the sidewalk on to the street, clutching herself tightly. She looked back. The Narrow Man changed, too, became shorter, more filled out. His face rearranged itself into a younger version of Javier. Oscar Moreno walked after her with a friendly smile on his face, despite the axe held down by his side and his tattered clothing. Beneath his shirt, his wounds had closed up. No blood pumped.
But he was limping. The foot he’d reattached – it was tender. The Narrow Man felt nothing, but Oscar could experience pain.
Amber got to the other side of the road while he stopped to allow a car to pass, then she clambered awkwardly over a low fence, got out of sight behind the house there, and shifted. The pain was manageable once again and she started running, her mind alight with possibilities. She hurdled a low wall and carried on. She could hear him behind her, the Narrow Man, running. Catching up.
Good. Let him.
She jumped another wall, landed in another backyard. She ran for the patio door, her scales prickling against her skin as she put her head down and crashed through the glass. She stumbled against the dining table. No alarm went off. No one cried out in shock. Beyond the tinkling of the glass, the house was quiet. She looked back as the Narrow Man dropped into the yard. He saw her, hefted the axe.
Grimacing against the pain in her shoulder, Amber ran for the hallway, grabbing a poker from beside the fireplace as she did so. She experienced a moment of blind panic when she couldn’t figure out how to unlock the front door, but then stumbled out, pulling the door shut behind her.
A car passed on the quiet street, but she didn’t revert and she didn’t run. Instead, she stepped sideways, pressed herself against the wall, and crouched.
A moment later, the front door opened again. The Narrow Man was Oscar Moreno once again, and he stepped out, still smiling, still holding the axe, his gaze directed at the street, expecting to see her running.
But Amber wasn’t running. Not anymore.
She straightened and swung the poker with all of her demon strength. It caught Moreno across the back of the head and he went down, went straight down to his knees, the axe clattering to the ground.
She hit him again, heard the poker crunch against his skull, and Moreno slumped face down. Blood began to mat his hair.
In this form, he bleeds.
Amber screamed at him, a scream of triumph fuelled by fear and hate, and brought the poker down a third time. She would have stood there and split his head wide open if a police cruiser hadn’t swung round the corner. Before the snarl had even escaped her lips, the cruiser had braked and Novak was jumping out.
Amber dropped the poker and ran back inside the house, into the dining room towards the broken patio door. Two other cops, Woodbury and Duncan, were closing in. She stumbled backwards, turned left, ran down a short corridor into a bathroom, backed out and ran into a bedroom. She slammed the door, looked around. Novak passed the only window, his gun drawn.
Amber whirled, searching for a weapon. A shotgun, baseball bat, anything. She tapped her pockets. Found a key.
She pulled it out. Dacre Shanks’s key. They’d tried it and it hadn’t worked, but that had been out there, on the other side of the boundary. She was in Desolation Hill now, where the key had been made. If there was anywhere it’d work for someone who didn’t have a damn clue how to use it, it was here.
She jammed it into the lock of the bedroom door and the image of another door, a door of dull metal, flashed into her mind with such startling clarity that it momentarily fil
led her vision. She turned the key, only dimly aware of what she was doing, then turned it again, and pulled it from the lock as she opened the door. She stepped out, not into the corridor of the house she was in, but into a concrete cell about the size of a modest living room. The door slammed shut behind her. It wasn’t the wooden door she’d opened. It was metal. The one she’d seen in her head.
And in the centre of this room was a Shining Demon.
ASTAROTH HAD BURNED FROM within, turning all but a few jigsaw patches of his skin translucent. His brother was not so hellishly ethereal.
Naberius was on his knees in a circle, his wrists bound by short chains set into the floor, the manacles scratched with a hundred tiny symbols. Like his brother, he was hairless. Like his brother, his eyes were black. That was where the similarity ended. His dry, cracked skin was the colour of ash, and a paleness seeped from those cracks to bathe the cell in a weak, restrained light.
He looked up at Amber without surprise. It was as if he had only been trapped down here 20 minutes, not 200 years, such was the placidity of his features.
She opened her mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say.
Instead, he spoke. “Release me.” His voice was soft. “Release me from these chains.”
Amber was strong. She was confident. In demon form, she was nothing like her old self. And yet here she felt all those familiar doubts and insecurities rising to the surface. Down here she was weak, despite her horns. Down here she was pathetic. “I … I can’t,” she said.
“You shall be rewarded. The chains bind me. Release me and I shall grant you your deepest desires.”
Amber stepped backwards to the door. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and that’s all she could think of to say. She turned, slid the key into the dull metal door, and screwed her eyes shut. She focused on a door she knew well, she pictured it in her head, and she turned the key twice and took it from the lock and she opened the door and stepped through—
—into her bedroom. In Florida.
The a/c wasn’t on. It was hot and stuffy. Across the room, Balthazar and Tempest from In The Dark Places gazed mournfully out from their poster. Her laptop sat upon her desk. Her bed was made. She’d grown up here. It was her bedroom, filled with her things, yet it wasn’t. Not anymore. The act of leaving, of running, had sealed this house away from her. It looked like her home and smelled like her home – that hot, cloyingly sweet smell – but it no longer felt like her home.
