by Kit Hallows
“To where?”
Her twisted smile curled tighter. “A place filled with hungry twisted souls. The dead and damned.”
Penrythe. The restless. “Where’s the ceremony taking place?”
“What? Didn’t you get an invitation to the ball?” She shuddered, and the smile left her lips as her legs kicked out before her. Whatever magic she’d used to soothe herself was fading fast.
I pressed the blade further, causing her to howl. “I can end your misery now, or leave you to die in slow certain agony. You might think you can escape this place but I have a feeling you won’t get very far. So you have a choice to make. Are you going to answer my question?”
The witch looked defiant, but slowly the hatred in her eyes dwindled. “Temple Park.”
I knew the place well. It was a huge, woodland park in the middle of the city. There was a lake there and expansive groves of mature trees. Their sweeping canopy provided cooling shade over the long hot summers and the privacy they afforded after dark made the place notorious for wild nocturnal parties. “Who’s attending?”
“The sisters,” she said, “and quite a few blinkereds, but only the chosen ones. We’ve been studying them, and making a list…”
“I saw one of your sisters stalking a group of kids strung out on spice.”
“Indeed. Some of them are surprisingly adept. Far more than they realize.” She flinched again and her eyes began to swim with tears. “The pain. It’s returning.”
I’d made her a promise. It was almost time to fulfill it. “Where’s Grace?”
She smiled a final time. “Now you ask. Clearly that poor girl is a very low priority.”
I began to sheathe my sword. “You know, I don’t have to make things easier for you. Whether you answer me or not, I’ll find her.”
The witch scowled, hawked up a wad of phlegm and spat on the ground. “She’s hiding in the graveyard. What else would you expect? Silly fool didn’t think I knew where she was. Still, she served her purpose.”
“Purpose?”
“Bait. I’d had my sights on you all along, Morgan Rook. You were the prize.” She let out a horrific cackling scream and shuddered as her limbs began to convulse. I raised my sword as her eyes rolled madly and thrust the blade through her twisted heart.
I left her there lying amongst the corpses of her familiars.
40
I made my way to a well-lit street teeming with sheeple. They bleated to one another, their eyeless faces turned to the ground, their movements agitated and fussy. Clearly asking for directions wasn’t going to work out, so I raced through the crowd, peering down each turn and cross street until finally I spotted the graveyard at the end of a block.
It looked like something I’d expect to find in one of Grace’s Manga books, a small disheveled Gothic resting place. I hurried past the gravestones, glancing at the words carved into the rough mossy granite. Were they people Grace had known, or random spectral names conjured up by her subconscious? For an imaginary realm, the place was extraordinarily detailed. I looked around in amazement then slowed as I spotted a mausoleum with its door ajar.
“Grace!” I called out to her, trying to keep my voice low and calm.
Silence.
I peered in to the darkness and pulled the sword of intention, carrying it like a torch. Her silhouette stood out against the far wall. She sniffled as I approached and the fiery light illuminated her terrified face. “I’m here to help,” I said as she clung back against the cobweb-laden stone.
“She sent you, didn’t she?” Grace sobbed.
“No, I came here to help you.”
“Where is she?” Grace’s eyes flitted to the door behind me.
“She’s dead. You’re safe. Now, come with me. We need to leave.”
Grace stared at me for a moment, and then her eyes flitted to the door once more. “She’s out there, isn’t she? Waiting for me-”
“She’s gone, Grace. I swear it.”
“How did you get here? And why do you have a face?”
“Because I’m not part of your inner world, I’m not part of your dream. I’m real, just like the witch.”
She shook her head. “No. None of this is real.”
“Listen to me, Grace, you need to wake up. You need to open your eyes. Phoebe’s back, she’s at home waiting for you, she’s really worried, and the last thing we need is for her to call your-”
She turned and looked me dead in the eye. “What are you talking about? I don’t know anyone named Phoebe. I live alone.”
Shit. My mind raced. Bait. The silver spiral in the sky. The witch had sent a signal. Grace was the bait and her mind was the trap. “Listen, Grace, we really don’t have time to fuck around. I think my… friend’s in danger. We’re in danger. You have to picture your bedroom on the other side of that mausoleum door. Can you do it?”
She gave me a hard, defiant stare. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
“Grace. There’s a woman in your apartment right now pretending to be your sister or your roommate. She’s dangerous and we can’t stop her if we’re both stuck here. There’s no time for self-indulgence, you need to step up. It’s not just your life that’s on the line right now.”
I stepped toward her. She held out a trembling hand. “Okay.”
Grace screamed as I brought down the blade and severed the thin silver chain around her ankle. A loud rumble echoed down from above.
Thunder?
No, it was something else. Something bad. “Hurry, Grace. You need to picture your apartment on the other side of that door. As soon as we pass through, open your eyes.”
“My eyes are already-”
“No, they’re not. This is all in your mind, Grace. A dream. You have to wake up as soon as we go through that door.” I sheathed the sword and held out my hand. She hesitated for a moment, then seized it, her grip surprisingly strong.
“I don't know what to do?” She sounded small, scared and out of her depth.
“Just use your imagination. Your room is on the other side of that door. Can you see it?”
We ran across the cold dusty floor, and I could see her room through the opening. Grace was there, in the chair at her desk on the other side.
Something was off. Something was wrong.
My gaze fell to the hand sprawled upon the carpet. It was spattered and stained with blood.
I forced myself to drift from the body that had carried me through Grace’s mind. She glanced my way as I left my borrowed form and with a quick sharp breath she pulled me through the door…
…back into the world.
Back to where Haskins lay slumped in the chair, blots of blood staining his shirt.
41
I closed my eyes and when I opened them again; I found myself in a chair behind Grace. Her pupils dilated and her eyes widened with fear. “You…” she said.
There wasn’t time to explain. I jumped up, pulled off the glasses and kneeled by the corpse on the floor. Phoebe, Grace’s roommate, had been shot through the side of the head.
Haskins groaned and clutched a crumpled black sweater to his gut. Blood continued to bloom across the fabric of his shirt.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She…stabbed me.” Haskins brow creased and his face grew ashen as he gazed at the wound in his stomach. He nodded toward the gun on the armrest by his side. “She came into the room…didn’t know I was here.”
The phone call Haskins had received soon after I’d arrived at the apartment. Part of the plan to ensure he’d left. Clever.
“She was like a zombie,” Haskins said. “Babbling and half asleep.”
“The enchantment I’d blown into her eyes disoriented her.” No wonder she’d fought so hard against me helping her, it had totally screwed up her plans.
“I… I told her to back off. I warned her…” Haskins grimaced. “But she pulled a knife. A switchblade. Tiny.” He chuckled and coughed. “But sharp as hell. Got me before
I could shoot.” He glanced back to his bloody shirt.
“Who the hell are you people?” Grace asked. I’d forgotten her, and it seemed she’d forgotten me too once she’d fully woken. She was in the chair, her mirrored hand still poised before her face. I wrenched the knife from the witch’s fingers and cut the string and duct tape away. “We’re the good guys,” I said. “For the most part.”
“Who’s she?” Terror filled her voice as she gazed down at the witch.
“An intruder, Grace.” I took the Mesmersand from my pocket and blew a pinch in her eyes before she could react. Her panic dissolved and her pupils dilated as her eyelids grew heavy. Slowly she slumped in the chair, forgetting the corpse lying next to her clunky black shoes. I delved into my bag for a vial of Morphsooth, and passed it to Haskins. And then I checked his wound. It was bad, but not fatal. He’d live.
“What the hell’s this? It smells like baby shit.”
“A pain killer. It’ll help. Trust me.”
He squirmed as he poured a few drops into his mouth. “It tastes worse than it smells. I-” Haskins stopped, and let out a long, contented sigh. “Wow. That’s potent.”
“It is but try and keep still, that wound is bleeding. I’m going to get you help.”
I pulled my phone out. It was late, but needs must…I called Dauple.
“Morgan,” he said, his voice sleepy and not a little irritable.
“Morning, Dauple. I got one for you.”
“You know what time it is? I only just got to sleep. I was having a dream… such a nice dream. Gretchen and me were in Atlantis. At least I think it was-”
“It’s an emergency, Dauple. I’ve got a disposal and a floor that has to be scrubbed good and clean. Forensically clean. But first I’ll need you to run a friend to the hospital.” Friend was pushing it, but I felt bad for Haskins. I’d asked him to watch my back and agreeing to do it hadn’t gotten him anywhere good. I gave Dauple the address. He yawned and moaned, but I heard the rattle of his keys.
I turned back to Haskins. The Morphsooth seemed to have given him a kick of euphoria along with pain relief. “Can I have a little more of that stuff?” A strange, boyish grin crept over his gruff face.
“Not right now. Listen, help’s on the way. I should warn you, the guy’s a bit… unusual. Actually, he’s very unusual, but he knows what he’s doing and he’s going to help you. I’m going to tie up some loose ends downstairs so that he can get you out of here unseen. As soon as I’m done, I’ll have to take off. You alright with that?”
“Sure.” Haskins grinned again. “Whatever.”
“Right.” I glanced round the room one final time before making for the door.
“Wait,” Haskins called. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, like I said, help’s on the way. Just hang in there.”
“Where you going?”
“Me? I told you.”
“No, where you going after you’ve clobbered the doorman.”
“I’m off to kill a witch, detective. Where else would I be going?”
42
It was only as I’d left Grace’s building and stepped outside into the night air, that it hit me. I was shattered, aching everywhere and somewhat disoriented. I glanced up at the moon; it was silver, black and mottled like the sun that had hung in the skies of Grace’s shadowy, inner world. I rubbed my eyes and it shimmered, turning back to an ivory white. I felt a little more grounded and hoped the flashbacks would stop soon. That they weren’t some terrible, lingering side effect of the black spice or the pinch-nose glasses. I probably just needed to get some sleep. Badly.
I decided to head home, get some rest and figure out my next move. The thought of a quick detour to Temple Park was tempting, but there was little chance Wyght would be there. No, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t slither out until her little Halloween Ball was in full swing.
Black and orange decorations glittered in the windows of the swanky shops and restaurants as I strode down the street, searching for a cab. The sight of the blinkereds’ attempts at spookiness was risible, but there was also something eerie in their morbid fascination with the very beasts I fought to keep off their doorsteps.
I glanced back at the moon to make sure it was still how it should be and was glad to find it bright, fat and gibbous. It seemed the spice had worn off, but I still felt jittery. I kept looking over my shoulder every few paces, and eyeing every narrow passage, doorway and bus shelter. It felt like someone was there, watching me, but if there was anyone lurking, I couldn’t see them.
You were my prize, Morgan Rook. You were the treasure. The witch’s final words echoed at the edge of my thoughts, and goosebumps spread over my arms. What had she meant?
A game was underway, the magnitude of which I hadn’t yet grasped. How the hell had I ended up smack bang in the middle of Elsbeth Wyght's web, when things should have been the other way around? I felt like a fly, waiting to feel the tremble of the strands as Wyght crept toward me, her belly brimming with poison. I had no one to turn to. The Organization's agents were tailing me, Underwood had retreated to the shadows, and the Council wanted me subdued and compliant, or better yet, silent.
And as far as they were concerned, nothing was more silent than a corpse.
I turned to check behind me again and again, my heart racing. There was no one there, nothing stirred except a few dead leaves scraping across the sidewalk.
And then I finally spotted a cab. I stumbled into the road, flagged it down, and climbed in, anxious to be off the street and away from my darker thoughts. Maybe it was the spice, or the lack of sleep, but I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt so vulnerable and alone.
“Where to?” the driver asked. I gave him the address, sat back, and forced my eyes open as he sped through the gloomy night.
A soft orange glow filled the hallway outside Mrs. Fitz’s place. I already knew what I’d find there: two plastic jack o’lanterns plugged into the wall. The same decorations appeared around about this time every year. I had to smile as I bounded up the stairs. At least there were some things in life that could be relied on.
The nostalgia vanished before I reached my apartment door. The seals and locks had been broken, and it sounded like the television was on….
It took me a moment to find Samuel’s face in the glow of the screen. He glanced my way and nodded. He looked tired. One of his eyes had been blackened, and he held a spotted paper towel to a gash on his forehead.
Astrid was curled up in my armchair fast asleep with three purring cats perched around her like little sentries.
“You look about as bad as I feel,” Samuel remarked. “Give or take a few bruises.”
I closed the door, plunked onto the sofa beside him and gratefully accepted the bottle of beer he waved in front of me. Astrid stirred as a couple of the cats leapt down. It took a moment for her eyes to focus on me, and when they did she smiled. “I’m glad you’re back, Morgan.”
“Have some of this.” Samuel handed me a bar of expensive looking chocolate. “It’s a wonder. Especially in conjunction with the ale.”
I tried it. He was right; the chocolate seemed almost as soothing as the swig of beer that followed it. After a few minutes he picked up the remote and muted the television. “Did you find her?”
“Not yet. But I know where she’ll be tomorrow, and I’ll be there too. Did you find the guy you were looking for?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “We tracked Endersley down. Then we lost him. But he’d definitely been here, planning and scheming. We chased him back into the Hinterlands, and that’s where he slipped away. But not before leaving several of our allies dead in his wake.”
“We almost joined them. Luckily, Samuel had a few tricks up his sleeve.” Astrid added.
“Yeah, I keep my sleeves well stocked,” Samuel smiled but he looked beat, almost haunted. “What Endersley did was brutal. But that’s the nature of the beast.”
“Where do you think he went?” I asked.
&n
bsp; “We're pretty sure he’s returned to Penrythe,” Samuel said. “We sent word to our contacts back home, they'll let us know as soon as they pick up his trail.”
“So,” Astrid sighed. “In the meantime we're planning on doing a little digging, see if we can find out what Endersley was up to while he was here. But we're kind of at a loss. We were hoping you might be able to help, Morgan. You know how things work here, we don’t. Not really.”
“Yeah, absolutely. Just as soon as I stop Wyght. It seems she’s trying to open a door.”
“A door?” Astrid leaned forward in her chair.
“A portal, between our worlds. It’s no coincidence, she’s got to be working for Stroud,” I said.
“That's alarming. We can lend a hand,” Astrid said. “That is, if you need it.”
“I could definitely use an ally or two right now,” I smiled, but I caught the look in her eyes. It seemed she was an empath of sorts. She already knew I’d accept, she was just trying to spare my feelings.
“At least one of us had a fruitful day. You want to tell us about it?” Samuel asked as he opened another beer.
I broke off another piece of the chocolate. Up until a few days ago I would never have considered talking to an outsider about Organization business. But the truth was, I wasn't sure my aims were in line with the Organization anymore. Or the Council. It seemed the former had been compromised, and the latter was corrupt beyond measure. And likely that some of them might be complicit in Stroud and Wyght’s plans. “Right,” I said. “Where to begin?”
“At the beginning,” Samuel grinned as he stoked his pipe.
“Okay, the beginning it is then.”
It was the wrong side of two a.m. by the time I finished my tale.
“We should go to this Temple Park, now,” Astrid said. “The coven will need to prepare the ceremony, it’s likely that some of the members are there. We can grab one or two and interrogate them.” Her hand strayed to the dagger she’d been sharpening while we talked.
