by Rani Clark
“Nothing.”
Jaska followed Mr. Ragnar out of the car as the train stopped. Shear and Kylie were out on the platform before them discussing something. Kylie looked at Mr. Ragnar, “We’ve been talking about it. We’re taking a cab to the house and then we’ll head out. Sound good?”
“Sounds fine,” Mr. Ragnar said.
“House?” Jaska asked.
Kylie looked at him for a moment before speaking, “There is an old house that acts as a portal to the Underground. It’s a gateway.”
Jaska nodded and zipped up his coat. He followed his companions to a waiting taxi. The horse snorted as they got into the cab. Mr. Ragnar looked out the window. “Where are we?”
“Nowhere you would know about.” Kylie looked at her brother, “I still say this is a bad idea.”
“It is a bad idea, but it’s the only one we have.” He chuckled, “Other than killing him which I am a fan of.”
Jaska glared at him, “Why do you want to kill me so much?”
“It would be easier than this. I mean, what do we have to lose? Vladimir would have to get another apprentice, but he never wanted one. Leif was a failure and you were an accident. Your death would make things easier for everyone.”
It was the truth no matter how much he didn’t like hearing it. Killing him would take no effort and their problem would simply vanish.
Mr. Ragnar put his hand on his leg, “Relax, no one is killing you.”
He nodded and looked out the window as the snow fell harder and harder. A sudden thought hit him, he would miss Christmas. Lilly Ann would be disappointed when he didn’t visit like he had said he would. She would also be worried. “I-I didn’t write to them.”
“Hm?” Mr. Ragnar glanced at him.
“My mom. Ty and Margo. I didn’t write to them. What-what will they think?”
“I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“I . . . guess.” Jaska wrung his hands together, noticing how far away from civilization they seemed. There was a forested road they had turned down, winding through the dark woods. A river rushed beside them, iced over in some parts, slushy in others. He watched the river before turning his eyes back to the road.
Further down, he could see the outline of a small house. The closer they got to it, the more he could see how dilapidated it was. The building was solid enough but no one would dare go near it. There was a sign in the window stating it was condemned, a sign in the yard stating no trespassing. There was nothing inviting about it. Even to teenagers who wanted to sneak in, it offered them a haunting and unappealing place. It gave off the feeling of a painful and unpleasant death. Jaska didn’t want to go into the building. He didn’t want to be anywhere around it and they were going inside it.
He shivered as the cab stopped just outside the gates. Mr. Ragnar got out of the cab and stretched, looking at the house without much concern, Kylie and Shear were getting their bags. Jaska stared at the building. There was something very wrong here. Something felt incredibly evil. He took a step back as the cab pulled away. “I don’t want to go in.” His mark was starting to burn, as if being touched by ice.
Mr. Ragnar looked at him, “What?”
“I can’t go in there. It feels . . . wrong.” He shook his head, “No, no, I won’t.”
Shear chuckled, “If he won’t go in there isn’t a point to this.”
Jaska pulled away as Mr. Ragnar grabbed his shoulder. Mr. Ragnar frowned, “What’s wrong?”
“This. Don’t make me go in there. I can feel it.” He touched his shoulder, fingering the ice-cold mark.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Jaska looked at him, at the man he loathed who had taken him away from everything he loved. That man was promising to keep him safe. “I-I-”
“Enough of this.” Shear stepped forward and grabbed Jaska roughly. He tossed him through the gate.
Jaska slipped and tumbled into the snow, cutting his forehead on a patch of ice. The cold gripped him like a claw, slicing into his stomach and sinking its way into his chest. Darkness crawled into his vision, moving slowly like a cat across his head until he felt himself falling. All he wanted was for the pain to stop, he didn’t care how it ended, he just wanted it done. Echoes filled his mind, screams cascading through his ears before disappearing. He gasped for breath as the air around the house shimmered before going back to its normal state. Mr. Ragnar grabbed Shear and slammed him so hard into the ground the snow puffed up around him.
“Why did you do that?!” he shouted.
“Now he can’t back down from this. I’m tired of him.” Shear pushed Mr. Ragnar away and stood, “I have snow down my pants. I hope you’re happy.” He laughed and looked at Jaska, “Ready to go when you are, kiddo.”
Jaska stared at him, his body frozen in the worst way. His limbs began to shake as feeling was restored and he found himself beginning to sob, much to his distaste. Every emotion he had ever had about anything came up to his throat.
Mr. Ragnar grabbed Shear again, punching him in the mouth before pushing him back. Mr. Ragnar gathered air in his hand. It began to turn a smoky black and looked more like oil when he finally unleased it, throwing it at Shear. The man flew back, tumbling in the snow. Mr. Ragnar stalked forward, rage in his eyes that made Jaska shake. Kylie leapt forward, taking a gun from her side so quickly it was blur. She was beside his master in an instant, holding the gun to his head.
“Don’t even think about it Vladimir,” she growled. “He may be a creep, but he is my brother after all.”
Mr. Ragnar lowered his hands, “What he just did-”
“Yeah, I know. He’s a huge asshole, everyone knows that. Shear Kameleon is a creep, an asshole, a disgusting killer.”
“Then why defend him?”
“He’s my brother.”
Mr. Ragnar nodded. She put away her gun. “Just so we’re clear,” he began, “one more mistake and I take his head off.”
Jaska pushed himself to stand as Mr. Ragnar came over to him. He looked down, “I’m sorry for crying. I didn’t mean to, I-”
“Stop. Stop apologizing. What you felt was . . . beyond terrible.” Mr. Ragnar pointed to the house, “I didn’t want to make you do this.”
“Did you know it would make me feel this way?”
“No. I’ve never been here before. When you spoke up I guessed and then-and then that jackass pushed you in.”
Jaska wiped his cold nose on his sleeve, “Let’s go. I’m cold.”
He nodded and handed him his backback. Jaska swallowed hard as he followed his master towards the house. Shear and Kylie joined them on the front steps. Shear took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Jaska took a deep breath as the cold seeped from the house. Shear stepped inside the dark building followed by his sister. Mr. Ragnar followed, Jaska was last. He tried to ignore the pressure behind his eyes, the pressure that was hurting his head.
The interior had once been nice, he was sure. There was dilapidated furniture lying everywhere, worn and aged. The rugs were threadbare and the stairs were crumbling, half of them were missing. Most of the windows had been smashed in and cold gripped the interior like it had been created there.
Jaska didn’t want to be in here. He wanted to run the other way as Shear Kameleon shut the door behind them with a soft clunk. He turned his eyes to the hallway only to see a skeleton dangling from a rope hung off the banister at the top of the stairs. He turned away, clutching Mr. Ragnar’s jacket as he buried his face in his chest. Sorrow leeched out of the wood of this house.
“Calm down,” his master spoke in a soothing tone. “There isn’t anything to worry about.”
“Would you relax?” Shear led them towards the old stairs and stepped to the side. There was a door hidden underneath that led to the basement. He knocked his hand against the skeleton, “Whoever that was has long since expired.” He walked down the steps, clunking in his boots. “Come on.”
The basement was just as awful as the rest of the
house. There was a small window in the corner that bathed the dismal place in pale light. Jaska looked around at the old paint cans and boxes filled with who knew what. Shear stepped over to the rusted furnace and felt around with his gloved hands. He touched something on the side and the furnace clicked. He stepped back and the group watched as the furnace swung open to reveal a deep, dark tunnel and a stone staircase leading down. A cold breeze brushed Jaska’s cheek. He looked at Mr. Ragnar; his master appeared just as frightened as he did until he noticed his student was looking at him. Mr. Ragnar nodded and squeezed his shoulder.
No one spoke as they took their first steps into the dark depths of the Underground.
