by S. R. Witt
“Goddammit,” Chase snarled. Of course, it made sense. She hadn’t killed all of the Sleepers, and they’d want to make sure she didn't reach the temple before Blood Plague could prepare himself for a fight. Plus, if the Sleepers hacked Chase down a few times, they might prevent the final battle entirely.
Chase killed the Cayenne's engine and shut off the lights. She left it straddling the road on the edge of the park in the vain hope that one of the other Slayers or a Sleeper might miss the car in the dark and take themselves out of the fight in a grisly accident.
Grinning at the thought, Chase left the Porsche behind, and hiked off the road and into the park’s fringes.
Though Taum Sauk was a mountain, that was more of an honorary title than a reality. To Chase's eye, it looked more like a lightly forested, rounded hill slightly larger than its neighbors. Through the trees, she saw torches blazing along its sides and a roaring bonfire at its summit. She had no idea what the Temple of Bones actually was, but the path the mask had laid out for Chase told her it was somewhere near the rounded peak.
Chase let the monotony of the climb up the mountain’s flank carry her away from the moment. She imagined her brother’s face when she found him. Her mother’s glowing pride when Chase escorted them all to safety.
What she did not want to imagine was the horror she’d see stamped into their faces when they realized the cost she’d paid for their freedom. She was something more than Chase now, and also something much less. She’d taken her father’s life to survive, and the horror of that moment had already faded to a dull and numbed memory that was a horror in itself.
A group of masked Sleepers emerged from the trees ahead of Chase, startling her out of her thoughts. They hadn’t noticed her and carried on their conversation in loud and heedless tones. “He'll play along, he has to. If he doesn't complete the ritual, the barrier will collapse. Everyone in this town knows what that means.”
Another one of the suited, masked figures laughed at that. It was a high, sharp jackal’s bark that sent chills racing down Chase's spine. She might be a Slayer, but these masked freaks were more monstrous than she. They'd chosen to serve the darkness, and their foul master had corrupted them beyond belief. Chase shuddered at the memory of the Sleeper’s ruptured head, at the disgusting decay she’d glimpsed behind the black mask.
“All those bodies in the pit are connected to souls,” the laughing Sleeper chortled. “They let that ritual lapse, even once, and that's a whole lot of angry ghosts come back to deal with those who killed them.”
The pieces of the puzzle began falling into place for Chase. She understood that the ritual had been meant to hold something at bay, but she hadn’t understood that the ceremony bound those who’d somehow fallen prey to Crucible the town’s Red God. Chase wasn't sure how she could use that information, but she filed it away for later.
What she needed was to refill her Willpower, and that meant these Sleepers had to die.
She waited for the patrol to pass her hiding spot and then swung out of the shadows behind them. Her sickle descended in a cleaving arc that split the laughing Sleeper’s skull from the crown of his head to the top of his spine. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and he staggered, choking. “Is it Christmas? Mama? Christmas?”
The other pair of Sleepers spun to face Chase, realizing too late the danger in their midst. One of them opened his mouth to scream, and Chase’s sickle vanished between his parted lips and down his throat. She raised the sickle’s handle, shattering the Sleeper’s jaw, and sending teeth bursting from his gums. Chase shoved the sickle’s handle further up and back, splitting the Sleeper’s lower jaw and tearing his throat wide open.
Blood splattered against Chase’s mask, momentarily blinding her. She wiped the sticky red ichor away, and the final Sleeper turned and ran, screaming wildly as he retreated. Chase took the lone spirit orb from the first Sleeper she killed, and then harvested the soul of her second victim. The surge of energy into Chase’s Willpower lifted her spirits, but she knew it was a temporary boost. She’d increased her Willpower from two to five, but had reduced her Hunger from four to three in the same act. She was on a downward spiral, and if she didn’t figure out a chosen victim soon, she wouldn’t be able to pull out before it was too late.
Chase bounded up the hill, making the most of the new energy surging through her veins. The mask tightened against her face, and Chase felt as if it was trying to sink beneath her skin and merge with the bone there. It itched and burned, but she didn’t have time to worry about anything that actively trying to kill her. Whatever the mask was doing to her, she couldn’t afford to part with it until the Nightmare Game was over. She’d have to deal with the fallout when the madness had ended, if it ever did.
The Sleepers had been roused by screams of the one who’d escaped Chase. His screams were drawing the masked assholes out of every nook and cranny in the mountain. They didn’t know where Chase was, not yet, but the Sleepers’ screams echoed across the mountain from every direction.
“Let them come,” Chase snarled, almost eager for the fight. She was tired of running and sick of hiding. She wanted to face her enemies and tear them limb from limb. She wanted to bathe in their blood and feast on their still-beating hearts. She wasn’t berserk.
She was pissed.
Her rage carried Chase up the side of the ancient mountain. She wanted to slaughter the Sleepers, but there were none to be found. Their screams withdrew, retreating toward the rounded peak of Taum Sauk mountain. Frustrated, Chase stomped up the rocky slopes, and soon she saw cave-like openings surrounding the old mountain’s summit. The holes in the earth reminded Chase of open mouths, gaping to catch any prey who wandered too close.
Smoke and fire leaked from those mouths, spilling up to the moonless night sky like the reeking exhaust of countless funeral pyres. Chase knew this was where she was supposed to be. The Temple of Bone was inside the mountain. All she had to do was walk into one of the caves and follow them down into the earth.
But, before she could do that, Chase would have to deal with a final obstacle.
Sleepers patrolled in front of each of those caves, weapons held at the ready. The sheer number of masked killers held cooled Chase’s blind rage. There were dozens of them that she could see, which meant there could be hundreds more that she couldn’t. It seemed as if the whole town had rallied around a single purpose.
Stopping Chase from reaching the Temple of Bone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Approach
Darrell Eldridge ran his fingers around the raised ridge of the talisman beneath his skin. Two of the tokens from the Chosen Victims flared to life in his mind’s eye. He’d taken the Warrior from Hex Gun, and, with some help from the Sleepers, had collected the Whore from the first Sacred Martyr to die. That left the Oracle, the Fool, and the Vestal in the hands of other Slayers. He'd hoped to tilt the odds more in his favor, but, in the end, that’s why he’d thrown in with the Sleepers.
“Have your people dealt with the barrier yet?” he asked the man seated in the back of the Escalade with him.
The unmasked leader of the Sleepers, a creature who’d once been a successful businessman named Caleb Marsh, shook his head. “Our sorcerers are working on it, but the Red God and his servants have had centuries to reinforce the protections around the Temple of Bone. Given that we’ve only been working on this problem for the past few years, I believe we’ve made admirable progress.”
Darrell growled, and the plague doctor's mask emitted a sulfurous stench. “If I'd known you were going to be this incompetent, I would never have made a deal with you. What happens if you can’t breach the barrier around the Temple and another Slayer claims the tokens and makes the sacrifice? All this work, for nothing.”
The Sleeper adjusted his glasses. Since he’d come to this little speck of nothing, Caleb Marsh had been saddled with one member of the Eldridge family or another. Darrell’s father, Will, had demanded exorbitant sums for minera
l rights to his otherwise worthless property. Sums Caleb Marsh’s company had to pay in order to expand their rare earth minerals operation into Crucible’s decaying mountains. In the end, of course, that fiasco had been worth it. Without the mine, Caleb Marsh would never have discovered the Hungry Goddess’ Maw. He would never have become something….else.
But, so close to his goal, Caleb Marsh found himself weary of dealing with Darrell. The young man had every advantage the Sleepers could provide, and yet still he complained and whined. “Mr. Eldridge,” Caleb began to explain the delicate ritual in progress, but Darrell cut him off.
“Blood Plague,” Darrell corrected. He hated his old name, the way that it reminded him of how weak he'd once been. He never wanted to go back to being that person. “Use my proper name.”
Caleb nodded to conceal his rolling eyes. “As you will,” he said. “While it is true that we have not been able to remove the barrier protecting the Temple from my agents, you have to admit that the Sleepers have provided you with exemplary assistance. If it weren't for our aid, you most likely would not have survived your first encounter with the Harrow girl.”
Darrell frowned, and his spear appeared in his hands. The tines pressed dimples into the bottom of the Sleeper's chin. “You doubt my skills?”
The Sleeper didn't flinch. “That isn't what I said. My point is, this is a challenging evening for all of us. The Sleepers will help you reach the summit, and will stop her from reaching it. If need be, we will kill her outside the Temple, and bring her corpse to you so that you may remove them. Or, if you prefer, we can hold her for you and you can execute her yourself. The choice is yours. Removing the barrier would be helpful, but it is not necessary for us to succeed. Do you understand?”
Darrell shrugged and looked out the window. The Escalade had stopped. Something was blocking the road ahead of them. “What now?”
Caleb Marsh closed his eyes for a moment and cocked his head as if listening to a distant voice. “It appears that our enemy has left the vehicle she was last seen driving. She stole it from some of our people. We’ll have it out of the way shortly.”
“What if she beats us to the summit?” Darrell asked, his blackened eyes wide and unblinking. “What then?”
The Sleeper brushed the tines of Darrell's spear away. “What then? You have two of the tokens. She cannot complete the ritual unless she takes them from you. And we will not allow that.”
Darrell nodded and eased back in his seat. A moment later, the Escalade rumbled up the side of the mountain. Through the tinted windows, he saw Sleepers raise their torches in screaming salute. He’d never been anything before. Very soon, he’d be a king.
A god.
The executive cleared his throat. “There is something else you could do.”
Darrell kept staring out the window, but asked, “What?”
“The Cult of the Red Dawn maintains this ritual and the barrier that protects it. They control who comes in and out of the Temple.” The Sleeper drummed his fingers together. “Convince them to allow Sleepers to remove this burden from their shoulders. We are as adept at protecting this world as any Slayer. We could free Crucible from the Red God’s iron grip. We could bring them into a new world with us.”
Darrell's eyes swiveled toward the Sleeper. “They'll never agree to that. Why would they? It would cost them everything and gain them nothing.”
The Sleeper shrugged. “It’s worth an attempt. Regardless, we will continue our efforts from outside the Temple. I suppose it’s not important, as long as you hold up your end of the agreement and make the sacrifice as we have discussed.”
The Escalade reached the summit at last and stopped in front of one of the many holes leading into the mountain.
Darrell eyed the glowing red portal, and his mouth went dry. He'd climbed this mountain many times as a boy, but never when the gates were open. He’d heard the fires within them were warm and welcoming, but to him they looked like the gates of Hell had been thrown wide.
He opened the door and hopped out of the Escalade. He turned back to the Sleeper. “Find her. I'll wait within the Temple until you do. When you’ve secured her, and only then, I'll come out and kill her. Then I’ll take her markers and live up to my end of our deal.”
Darrell slammed the door and stalked away from the Escalade.
The Sleeper watched him go, stroking his smooth-shaven chin with manicured nails. He hoped the rest of this evening went the way they'd planned. They'd find the girl, kill her, and give the tokens to that fool Darrell.
Then they would have the Slayer under their control. The contracts the Slayer had signed bound his soul to their goals and would turn this barbaric ritual to more productive ends. The Sleepers and their master would seize control of the portal between worlds, and usher in a blazing new age.
But, if that failed, there was always the final alternative. The leader of the Sleepers smiled quietly as he imagined that end to this night.
It might almost be worth it. He’d always wanted to watch the world burn.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Shot in the Dark
Chase saw the Escalade crawl up the side of the Taum Sauk and knew she was out of time to wait for an opening in the Sleeper’s guard. She needed to get up to the Temple and finish that asshole with the crow mask before the Sleepers could wear her down and take her markers.
Chase stepped out of hiding and exposed herself to the autumn starlight. She also exposed herself to the cluster of Sleepers who'd gathered near one of the entrances to the mountain.
For a moment, the Sleepers didn’t move. They stared at Chase in utter disbelief that their target had walked out right in front of them, unable to believe their luck. Then, as one, they marched down the hill toward her. They brandished spears, knives, and machetes as they descended the rolling slopes. Their voices rose toward the night sky like screaming eagles, filling Chase with a primal dread.
Chase held her position until the Sleepers were within twenty feet. Then she triggered her Vanish ability, turned to her right, and ran. She reached the end of the line of Sleepers and turned back up the hill, putting as much distance as possible between her hunters and herself.
When the Sleepers finally realized how Chase had tricked them, she had too much of a head start for them to catch up. With a whoop of victory, Chase stepped into the glowing red entrance and turned back to face the Sleepers. If the Sleepers had been able to enter the temple, they wouldn’t have been waiting for her on the slopes of the mountain. Chase had been right–the Sleepers were barred from entry to the Temple of Bone.
They glared at her breathlessly but didn’t try to come in after her. Chase smirked and aimed her sickle at each of them in turn. “When I get done in here, I’m going to find every one of you fuckers and take you apart for what you’ve done.”
Then she turned and descended the winding stone passageway to the mountain’s heart.
The narrow tunnel curved counterclockwise, descending at such a steep slope that Chase had to lean back to keep from stumbling ahead. With every step, her boots kicked loose stones and scrabbled on the slick stone surface. Whoever had designed this place had come down here barefoot, or maybe in moccasins, not motorcycle boots.
When she wasn’t almost tumbling to her death, Chase marveled at the elaborate designs carved into the walls and ceiling. It had to have taken centuries, at least, for someone to chisel such intricate geometric patterns over every surface she could see.
Whoever had gone to such lengths was either part of a fanatical culture dedicated to their cause, or so terrified they were willing to enslave themselves for millennia.
Something told Chase it was the latter that had inspired these carvings.
The further down the tunnel Chase went, the more she struggled to breathe. It was as if the air had become too heavy, too dense to enter her lungs without great effort.
The tunnel opened at last into a wide bowl-shaped chamber with a high, arched ceiling. Ribs of stone r
ose from the bowl’s edges toward a narrow hole in the ceiling. The hole was mirrored by a larger opening in the bowl’s floor, which glowed with a baleful green light. Bonfires had been lit around the edge of the pit, and their smoke mingled and floated upward in a spiraling current through the hole in the ceiling.
Naked figures crouched around the rim of the bowl. Their faces were hidden behind bone-colored masks that had neither eye holes nor slits for their mouths.
When Chase entered the chamber, the masked figures began chanting, a wordless booming that echoed in her ears and compelled her to approach the edge of the bowl. Chase tried to resist, but her body obeyed of its own volition. One shaky step after another, she walked to the edge of the bowl.
And then, before she could stop herself, she stepped over the rim and skidded down to its bottom. Her toes stopped, inches from the hole in the bowl’s base and the green fires blazing below.
Chase peered over its edge and saw a mound of ancient bones piled upon a deep cavern’s floor. Some of the skeletal remains were splintered, others whole, some fresh, others weathered and brittle from countless centuries beneath the surface of the earth.
“It’s a goddamned miracle you made it this far,” a man's voice said, echoing across the bowl, “but you will go no further.”
Chase looked up and watched the crow-faced killer drop into the bowl with her. He twirled his spear, lazily, almost contemptuously, as he circled the opening in the bowl’s floor. “You may have more markers than me,” he snapped, but you have no training in the Nightmare Game. Your fate has been sealed since the day your bastard father and whore of a mother abandoned this town.”
Chase darted away from a sudden probing attack that her Oracle marker warned her was incoming, deftly raising one arm and twisting to the side to allow Plague Blood’s gigging fork to pass by without touching her.
