The Devil's Dreamcatcher

by Donna Hosie

  And all the while, that disgusting stench rolls over us in rotten waves.

  “Mitchell!” I cry. “Wait up!”

  Immediately the bobbing head stops running and turns around. A gap appears in the headstones, and my stomach drops with a sickening thud.

  Mitchell is running with Angela. And they’re alone.

  “Where’s Elinor?” Alfarin and I cry together.

  “I thought she was with you two!” shouts Mitchell, looking stricken.

  “She must be with her brother,” calls Angela. “They went in the opposite direction.”

  “Why didn’t you go with her?” bellows Alfarin.

  “Because Johnny went in the direction my mom went in, Alfarin!” yells Mitchell. “There’s only so much space in my head, and not being seen by my mom and escaping from the Skin-Walkers was all I could think of.”

  “I am sorry, my friend.”

  “No, it’s my fault, I screwed up.” Mitchell is clawing at his short hair.

  “Let’s just find the others,” says Angela, taking Mitchell’s hand. “We’ll find them.”

  And Mitchell lets her hold on to him as the four of us run back the way we came. I watch their fingers link, and my throat closes up.

  “That smell!” cries Angela. “What in the name of Down There is that smell?”

  “It is the worst of Hell,” replies Alfarin.

  “There’s Owen!” shouts Mitchell. “Hey, Owen, wait up.”

  “Have caution, my friend,” says Alfarin. “You cannot let your lady mother hear you.”

  “Crap.”

  “She’s not here, Mitchell,” says Angela. “Medusa and I will keep a lookout, won’t we?”

  I tear my eyes away from their interlocked fingers, and the heaving sensation in my stomach shifts to my chest.

  “Red coat,” I whisper. “His mom is wearing a red coat.”

  But it isn’t a red coat we see next. It’s red hair. Short, flaming red hair.

  It’s Johnny, and Elinor isn’t with him. Only Owen is.

  “Perhaps she’s with Jeanne,” says Angela hopefully.

  “Yeah, because that witch would have waited for a devil,” replies Mitchell as Johnny comes racing toward us.

  “Elinor isn’t with you?” he cries.

  “Which way did she go?” demands Alfarin. Mitchell and Owen each place an arm across Alfarin’s huge chest, but they are twigs in a tornado and easily brushed aside as Alfarin strides forward and grabs Johnny’s T-shirt, lifting his feet clean off the ground.

  Suddenly there is a blinding flash. Alfarin is on the ground, and the streak of light that knocked him down is holding a blade to his throat.

  “Stop fighting!” screams Angela. “We have to find Elinor!”

  Her desperation to find Elinor immediately dilutes my jealousy over Mitchell. Locating my friend is all that matters. But the others ignore her and continue shouting at one another. Forget Mitchell’s mom and her hearing us—they’re making enough noise to wake the dead. Somehow through the din I hear a rustle to my right.

  And then I see her. She’s next to a stout tree with thick bark that looks like flaking skin. Elinor is motionless; she appears to be floating.

  Perfidious steps out from behind her. He’s wearing a policeman’s uniform, but I know right away it’s him because his mouth is too large for his head. He smiles and bares black teeth.

  And unlike ours, his irises haven’t changed.

  “You will come with us, child,” he growls in a deep, sonorous voice that stretches with each word. He sniffs at Elinor and then runs his long fingers through her hair. “You will come with us, or you will see your friend devoured by wolves.”

  13. A Silent Scream

  I stare at Elinor. She has her eyes closed; I’m not sure she’s aware of what’s happening. I hope not. I try to take a step toward her, but my legs feel rubbery and unstable. The stench from Perfidious is horrific. It’s a mixture of rotten food, sour milk and sweat. He’s surrounded by a thin black haze that moves around Elinor’s body with thin tendrils that poke and prod her motionless form. The guilt I feel at seeing her like this is drowning me. Elinor is here because she wanted to stay with Alfarin; and he is here because of me.

  “Please don’t hurt her,” I plead, my voice cracking as the syllables gets stuck in my dry throat. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt her.”

  I glance behind me. I need to warn Alfarin against doing something stupid, like charging at Perfidious with his axe.

  But I don’t need to, because the blade is lying at his feet. The sight of Elinor trapped by Perfidious has petrified the warrior.

  “Slowly walk toward me,” growls Perfidious. Each word is elongated and reminds me of someone who is learning a new language for the first time. For the first time, it occurs to me that the Skin-Walkers probably aren’t human, and that makes them even more dangerous.

  I raise my hands in surrender.

  “I will do anything you want, just please, don’t hurt Elinor.” Fear makes my feet feel large and clumsy; I might as well be wearing clown shoes instead of sneakers.

  Then Mitchell places himself in front of me.

  “Take me instead,” he says. “Not Medusa. Take me.”

  A pack of wolves jumps out at us from all directions. I can’t help screaming, and I’m not the only one. Two of the beasts bound toward Elinor and then straighten up on either side of her. She jerks violently as they grab her arms. They’ve morphed into men wearing animal pelts. The black haze surrounding Perfidious stretches out and covers them. When the dense fog evaporates, they’re also wearing police uniforms. If anyone were to see this scene, they would assume a large group of delinquents was being arrested for vandalizing graves or something. No one would stop to help us. The Skin-Walkers would probably be cheered and encouraged to take us away.

  Jeanne has come back to the group; she’s standing next to Owen. He whispers something to her that I don’t catch, but she shakes her head in response.

  “Mitchell, don’t,” I say forcefully, pushing against his arm. He grabs my hand, and I hear a choking sob escape from his chest. Winding my fingers around his, I squeeze, but he has to let me go.

  “We will tear the girl limb from limb,” growls the Skin-Walker to the left of Perfidious. “Do not test us.”

  “Melissa, the Viciseometer!” shouts Owen.

  But I ignore him. Does he really expect me to use the Viciseometer now? I don’t run away from problems I’ve caused—and I’m certainly not running now, when the girl who’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a friend is in danger. I slowly place one heavy foot in front of the other. My fingers release from Mitchell’s, but I’m the one letting go. I’m still a good ten yards away from Elinor. Her thin arms are being pulled to either side by the two Skin-Walkers, and one licks his lips with a forked black tongue.

  They are feasting on our fear.

  “Melissa,” calls Owen again, even more urgently than before. “The Viciseometer. Throw it to me.”

  Perfidious growls, and the vibration and chill it causes shudder right through me.

  “Shut the Hell up, Owen!” I shout, twisting back to glare at him, but the soldier angel is making strange movements with his hands.

  Trust me, he mouths. Then he taps his heart and draws a circle with his index finger.

  And I understand, or at least I think I do.

  My fingers fumble in the pocket of my shorts.

  “What are you doing, Medusa?” whispers Mitchell frantically. “Take it with you. Take it with you.”

  But I throw the Viciseometer to Owen as I take another few steps toward the Skin-Walkers. I’m not trusting the angel for my sake. I’m doing this for Elinor, because it’s the only hope we have.

  “Let her go,” I say.

  “Medusa!” cries Mitchell. “No!”

  All of the Skin-Walkers have transformed, and there are now nine policemen surrounding Elinor. Her skin is becoming mottled with purple and green blot
ches covering her cheeks and neck. What are they doing to her? Her physical form looks like it’s rotting. I want to throw up, but the pain of fear is tightening every atom in my soul.

  “What did you pass to the angel?” growls Perfidious. His black teeth are bared.

  “A Viciseometer. A time-traveling device,” I reply. “They will need it to return to Hell. It means I’m unarmed. I have nothing on me at all.”

  “You will remain in our circle,” says Perfidious. “Any attempt to fight and we will attack. Do you understand?”

  I nod. My mouth is so dry, my tongue is sticking to my gums. Elinor drops to the ground as the two Skin-Walkers release her arms. She doesn’t move. I try to get to her, but the world falls from my feet as I’m lifted up and encircled by the nine Skin-Walkers. Then my ankles turn over with a painful twist as I fall back to the ground. The second they all close in around me, I feel my ears pop, as if I’ve been encased in a glass dome. A heavy burning sensation presses down on my chest. The sensation, the longing, to breathe is sucked out of me, and I’m trapped in a vacuum.

  But even though the space inside the Skin-Walkers’ circle is an airless void, it’s filled with the sound of screaming. I can feel invisible hands grabbing at me. I want to cry out, but I can’t. I want to run back to Mitchell and Alfarin and Elinor, but I can’t do that, either. I have no alternative but to walk with the Skin-Walkers. They are leading me away from my friends.

  I trusted Owen. In that split second, I decided to give him a chance to prove that his soul was good.

  I hope he proves me right.

  For forty years of death I have continued to breathe, even though I know I don’t need to. It’s a reflex that becomes a part of who you are from the moment you’re born. Now, for the first time since I died, I can’t do what comes naturally, and the effect is devastating. I claw at my chest and then my throat. The heavy burning pressure forces my mouth open. I can sense invisible fingers inside my mouth that reach down my throat. I gag.

  A female mourner is walking toward us. It isn’t Mitchell’s mom, because this one is too young to be the mother of a seventeen-year-old. She’s wearing a short black jacket, and her hair is dyed the same color. She stops suddenly, and her eyes widen at the sight of us. Not with surprise, but with fear. The Skin-Walkers are still dressed like policemen, but the woman doesn’t recognize them as men. It’s the eyes. There’s too much darkness in the eyes.

  The woman can’t possibly know what they are, but her sixth sense tells her to start walking quickly in the opposite direction. White earphones trail in her wake as she flees from the group striding toward her.

  “Down here,” growls Perfidious. “Iratol, keep watch behind us. We do not want devil or angel essence tracking us.”

  The Skin-Walker to my right immediately swings his head backward. His neck stretches almost one hundred and eighty degrees around without even a shift in his hunched shoulders. I’m in my very own horror movie, and for the first time in my death, I wish there were no Afterlife.

  “They have not followed,” he replies in a voice that is slightly higher than Perfidious’s. It leaves a painful ringing in my ears.

  “Forsaken,” says Perfidious, and he leers at me with a wide grin. Saliva clings to his blackened teeth like a gauzy drape, and my stomach heaves.

  Perfidious leads the group into a small thicket of trees. Twigs snap under my feet, but as I look down, I see what the Skin-Walkers are doing to the earth. They are leaving behind scorched footprints that are far worse than the imprints we left. The ground sinks in where they have stepped, and it steams with putrid-smelling black smoke.

  “Release the girl,” orders Perfidious.

  The Skin-Walkers part and the glass-dome-like atmosphere surrounding me lifts. I choke as the heavy burning sensation in my lungs disappears. I can feel the air in my mouth again, and not invisible fingers. But I’m no less scared. Nine sets of black eyes are now fixed on me. Several of the Skin-Walkers are sniffing me.

  “What do you want?” I ask Perfidious. “Septimus told you I know nothing about what happened in Hell.”

  “Do not speak of Septimus as if you know him, child,” growls another Skin-Walker. He reaches out to touch my hair and I flinch, but I have nowhere to go. I simply back into another monster.

  “Leave her, Cupidore,” snarls Perfidious. “This one is not for us—for now.”

  Does Septimus know what’s happening here? Would he come to help me? I have to believe that he would if the others had gone to him for help. I’m not evil. I’m not like my stepfather.

  “We cannot take back that which is ours while it holds the Dreamcatcher in its hands,” growls Perfidious. He eyes me, leering again. “We have seen inside the Unspeakable’s mind, child, and it is filled with longing for you. You will offer yourself up as a sacrifice. At that time, with what is left of his mind distracted, we will act.”

  “And what if he decides he doesn’t want me?”

  “That will not happen. The Unspeakable wants you. And only you can make the Unspeakable leave the Dreamcatcher.”

  “What if I refuse?”

  “You will not.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “So many questions. Let me illuminate your mind, child. If you fail to do as we command, we will tear your lifeless friends apart and make you watch as we feed on their souls, starting with the one who offered himself up,” replies Perfidious. “And then, when you think you can bear the pain no longer, we will ravage you.”

  “And if you lay one finger on Miss Pallister, it will be my wrath you have to deal with, Perfidious.”

  I spin around. Septimus is standing just inches behind the Skin-Walker that tried to touch me. The one called Cupidore.

  “You have no power over us, Septimus,” snarls Perfidious. Flecks of spit shoot out of his mouth. One of the Skin-Walkers yelps as the saliva hits his face, leaving small red welts on his pockmarked skin.

  “And yet you know I am not a devil to cross,” replies Septimus, and he steps into the uneven circle and stands by my side. I want to collapse against him with relief. He came. He didn’t abandon me.

  Then I think back to the last few minutes before I left Hell, when we were all in Septimus’s office and he said he was counting on the Skin-Walkers tracking us. Did he mean for this to happen? Has Septimus been waiting for this moment in time?

  “You know what I am, Perfidious,” drawls Septimus. “What I am capable of.”

  How can his deep voice be so calm? Septimus could be reading the weather report, he’s so collected.

  “You are a traitor,” replies Perfidious.

  “Well, it takes one to know one,” says Septimus.

  Perfidious laughs. The sickening sound is like a hacking cough. Then Perfidious’s mouth rises at the edges. The cracks in his brown lips widen, revealing throbbing red flesh.

  “You sent the child out here as bait, Septimus,” says another Skin-Walker. “Do not think you can fool us with your duplicitous words of compassion.”

  “And Miss Pallister was aware of that, Frausneet,” says Septimus. “But that does not mean I intended for her to be offered up as a sacrifice. You can have no claim to her soul, and she and her fellow travelers remain under my protection. And while Perfidious is quite correct in saying I have no power over the Skin-Walkers, need I remind you that Fabulara does?”

  Fabulara, the Higher who has control over The Devil and Him, also controls the Skin-Walkers? The effect of that name on the demons around me is instant. The black haze surrounding the Skin-Walkers thickens and starts to swirl like smoke from flames fueled by a gasoline fire. Their appearance is rapidly changing from policemen to their original animal pelts, to the policemen again. I feel nauseous and faint as my vision becomes blurred by the flickering mass surrounding me.

  Septimus takes my arm and leads me away from the Skin-Walkers. My legs are shaking so much I have to cling to him with my other arm to stay on my feet.

  “Stay here,” he whispers,
“until I give the word.”

  “Do not toy with us, Septimus,” growls the Skin-Walker called Frausneet. “You will recall the fate of the fool Baumwither.”

  “And the master is most displeased about it,” replies Septimus. “Now listen carefully. Like The Devil himself—and unlike Baumwither—I will treat you with all the respect your position in Hell demands, but I reiterate: the minute you touch me, or my charges, it will be Fabulara whom you have to deal with. In fact, it is with her assistance that I am here.”

  “What do you want, Septimus?” spits Perfidious. The pretense of the policemen is gone. Slowly, one by one, the Skin-Walkers revert permanently to their real forms. Each wolf pelt bristles with anger.

  “It is now clear to me that the Dreamcatcher has absorbed much of The Devil’s powers, including the ability to leave Hell on a whim,” says Septimus. “This explains how your Unspeakable got out of Hell, although it does not explain how he managed to escape all of you in the first place.”

  At this, several of the Skin-Walkers lunge toward Septimus. The roar from those who stayed in place is like a pride of lions. I scream and jump backward, but Septimus stands his ground.

  “You cannot leave the other Unspeakables unguarded in Hell, Perfidious,” says Septimus reasonably. “And to have all nine of you roaming the earth looking for the one who has escaped is folly—”

  But I don’t hear Septimus’s next few words because a voice whispers in my ear.

  “We’re right behind you.”

  Warm fingers tuck a single strand of hair behind my ear.

  I look back to see Perfidious strike two of the Skin-Walkers with the back of his hand. They yelp and retreat behind him.

  “Two, you say, Septimus? And why would I take orders from you?” Perfidious growls.

  “These are not orders. They are merely a suggestion,” replies Septimus. “What say you?”

  What have I missed? Two of what? Could Mitchell have picked a worse moment to whisper in my ear? Could he have picked a better moment? I hope Alfarin and Elinor are with him. The thought that Team DEVIL is at my side—albeit invisible—gives me a shot of courage. I had sensed that Owen was giving me a cryptic message about the two Viciseometers, and that was why I threw it to him. Not to take them back to Hell, but to allow them to come with me, unseen by the Skin-Walkers. Owen must have told Mitchell about the effect of the two timepieces: that when they’re joined together, the bearer becomes invisible at that moment in time. Only Owen and I proved it works with more than one dead person. All seven devils and angels could be with me right now.