He gestured to a pack of mongrels galloping along the far end of the court. Two burly, black dogs with burning red eyes, and a third smaller dog that glowed greenish white. A fourth, a brown mutt, seemed normal until he turned sideways. Then I saw he was almost flat. I nudged Emmett and pointed.
"Oh, yes. I've seen him around. Must have been run over. But come on. They're waiting for us," he said.
"My father and Sam?" I wrung my hands with eagerness.
"No—the spirit council. I want to introduce you. Come on, I think we might be late," he said, and hurried down one of the countless alleys spoking out from the cobblestone circle. I rushed after him as he advanced down a darker and darker alley, ending in a stone wall. When he reached the dead end, he walked through the wall. I stood alone in the dark alley.
"Emmett?" I reached out, tried to push my hand through the wall. Maybe I could? But no. The stones remained hard, unyielding. "I can't walk through walls!" I shouted.
A rustling made me turn. The glowing ghost dog nosed through the gray weeds at the other end of the alley.
"Hey, puppy. Good dog!" I said.
The two black dogs appeared next to the white dog. They growled in sync, their eyes red-hot coals, and stalked toward me.
"Emmett! I need help!" I pounded on the wall, my voice squeaking. Where was he? How could he leave me here?
The dogs crept closer. Then, from above, a rapid barking—the two flying Chihuahuas plunged down to defend me! Their barks and screeches echoed off the alley walls as they darted in to nip the two bigger dogs.
"Sybil, be careful! And you too, Elvira!" I said. Though I couldn't tell which was which anymore, or whether there even was a which.
The Chihuahua offensive proved futile seconds later, when the larger dogs shook them off, not even bothering to snap at them. The black dogs had their sights trained on me, and all the tiny flying dogs in the spirit world would not deter them. They advanced, growling and slavering, their eyes glowing hotter and redder, pacing around me. Behind them, the white ghost dog followed, wagging its tail.
"Bad dogs! No! Go home!" I shouted. My knees turned to jelly, and my voice came out a lame squeak. The dogs barked furiously, and then, of one mind, they charged, snapping and snarling.
"Emmett!" I screamed. In terror, I held out my hands. Blue spectricity roiled across the alley walls, long fingers of lightning snaking out and striking the dogs. They fell back yelping, but shook it off, and advanced toward me again.
My hands burned, little flames of spectricity flecking up from my palms. I tensed, ready to strike. The dogs left the ground, leaping for my throat. I lifted my hands to cut them down, but as they flew toward me, they slowed . . . slowed . . . stopped. They hung in midair, frozen before my face. Behind them, the ghost dog glowed. Beams of light shot from its coat in all directions, and a larger beam of light enveloped the black dogs. The ghost dog tilted back. He appeared for all the world to be holding them.
I hardly dared breathe. Everything hung still. Then Emmett poked his head through the wall. "Everything oka—Good All!" he said, eyeing the scene. "Specter, is that you? What a good dog!"
Emmett slid past the frozen black dogs to the ghost dog, patting its head and scratching behind its ears. Specter lost concentration as Emmett patted him, and his hold on the black dogs weakened, so that one snapped mere inches from my face. Fed up, I slapped at it with one of my spectricity-filled hands, and it spun backward. I gathered my strength, encouraged by this, and with an angry growl of my own, focused the full force of the spectricity on the two dogs. Both flew over the alley wall in a haze of blue and crashed down in something noisy.
Emmett gulped. "Great cruxing All! What did you just do?"
"Those dogs were about to turn me into a pile of ectoplasmic kibble! And where were you?" I shouted.
"We'd better get moving," he said with a stern expression.
"Look, I'm sorry I had to—express myself—but I can't walk through walls!" I said.
"I don't know about that! I've never seen a mortal wield that much spectricity. You certainly aced the spectricity test! I saw nothing like this when I watched you in the junkyard," he said.
"When you did what?" He'd admitted it! I knew that figure in the junkyard was him!
He cocked his head at the alley wall where the dogs had gone over, like he still couldn't get his mind around it. "Bit of spectricity, some flickering light—nothing like this."
"You should have watched me at school. You would have seen plenty," I snarled.
"Oh, really? I'll try that next time," said Emmett, quite serious. I let out another furious growl, thinking of him spying on me, but he only laughed and flashed that disarming smile.
"You're in a great mood," I said. "Considering I could have been eaten. Considering this whole thing was your fault." I smiled a little too, in spite of myself.
"Yes, I'm terribly sorry. I believed this alley contained a dimensional shortcut to the center of town, but as so often happens, I've lost my sense of direction. And the dogs—usually harmless, but lately they've been attacking people. For about the last hundred years."
"Hundred years? Emmett, that's not lately. What happened a hundred years ago?" I asked.
Emmett opened his mouth to answer, but from far away came a roar that resolved into a thousand individual screeches. Closer and closer drew the sound. I glanced at Emmett and he glanced at me.
"It's birds! They noticed the spectricity. We need to go, now!" said Emmett, snatching my hand, then he recoiled. Spectricity remained in my hand, enough to shock him. He went transparent and wafted around like an old blanket in the wind. After a moment's flickering, he solidified again.
"Put that spectricity away so I can float us out of here!" he shouted.
"I don't know how!" I shouted back, terrified.
"Bad enough that I have to fly. But now I have to do it whilst being shocked. One moment." He extended his right arm. A large tuning fork dropped from it. How many of those things did he have? He leveled it at me before I could flinch, and I experienced a snapping sensation as the spectricity lifted from my hands and clung, crackling, to the fork. Glancing up, I almost lost my breath. A black, ominous cloud of birds plunged downward, wraithlike tails whirling behind as they dove straight for us.
Emmett took my hand, gritted his teeth, and we shot upward like a Roman candle, straight into the mass of birds. I covered my face with my hand, squealing as we burst through the scratching, pecking flock and emerged above. Glancing down, I saw the two Chihuahuas ascending after us, far below, in a gyre of flapping wings and wagging tails. The birds whirled in confusion, then the horde honed in on us. With angry screeches, the mass of birds swooped after us, ignoring the dogs, completely focused on me and Emmett.
Emmett yanked me sideways, ducking into a moldy-smelling cloud. We floated inside and he eyeballed the town below, a labyrinthine structure punctuated by black castles and towers. Beyond the farthest wall stretched a cold, gray sea.
I pointed. "Is that the Dead Sea?"
Before I got an answer, Emmett dragged me down in a crazy death dive aimed straight for a gray-and-black bullseye. I gasped for air, my stomach still up in the clouds, as we blew past the Chihuahuas, knocking them into tailspins. Still we plummeted. The bullseye circles took shape: a granite castle roof, and around it, a moat of black water.
"Stop!" I tried to say. Our momentum was too great. We'd surely crash—but seconds before we splattered against the castle stones, Emmett hit the brakes—inches above the ground, so quickly I nearly blacked out.
"Inside!" he shouted. Towing me after him, he sped across the roof to a heavy door. He melted through the door, but when my hand bumped the wood, he popped back out.
"Cruxors, where is that key?" He pawed through his waistcoat, then his arms, his chest, his neck—his hands disappearing into his own body as he searched. A long piece of twine strung with hundreds of keys fell jingling from his waistcoat to the flagstones below. I picked it up and tugged.
Yet more string snarled with keys emerged from beneath his waistcoat.
"We'll never find it like this!" I said. I faced the mass of birds closing in on us, raising my hands. Spectricity sparked between my twitching fingers.
"All right, birds. Let's see how you like me now!" I aimed the blast upward.
Dozens of birds wheeled and flapped away; a few unfortunate slower ones spun squawking downward, feathers trailing smoke. Behind me, I heard another loud squawk—or more like a creak, really.
"Huh. Forgot it wasn't locked," said Emmett, floating next to the open door.
"You—you forgot? It was open?!" I raced inside. I slammed the door shut, hard. Emmett popped through a second later.
"Well, I don't use doors much," he said, continuing our conversation as if we hadn't just been fighting off rabid birds. Correction: I was fighting off rabid birds. Emmett was looking for his keys.
We huddled inside the murky castle chamber, listening. Instead of the screech of birds, now a weirder sound greeted our ears. It sounded like "Squee-yip! Squee-yip!"
"Sybil and Elvira!" I said. Emmett cracked the door wide enough for them to squeeze through, but several crows got their beaks and claws in. Emmett shot spectricity bolts at them with his tuning fork.
"Careful! Don't hit the dogs," I said.
The Chihuahuas—or were they bats?—squeezed through the tiny crack and inside. Emmett flicked the stunned crows. They fell with disappointed caws, and he shut the door tight.
"Ha ha!" said Emmett, spearing the air with his tuning fork. He gave me a devilish half-grin. "High marks on the spectricity! A-plus! That was a bit dicey. But we made it. All's Hold, safe and sound."
Still shaking, I gathered Elvira and Sybil in my arms and squeezed them tight. Then I reached for Emmett and hugged him, too.
"Oh!" He dropped his tuning fork with a clatter.
"Are we safe? They can't get in?" My whole body still shook. I breathed in deep, surprised that Emmett smelled like the air in a high mountain storm—like lightning. He stayed material while I nestled into him, but then he flickered. He wafted in and out, shaking in his own way, and I couldn't hold on. I let go and sat down, my heart thumping hard.
Emmett floated dumbstruck, then materialized strongly and said, "Of course we're safe! This is All's Hold. There isn't a safer place in the whole spirit world!"
He bounced up and levitated around the chamber ceiling, until I said, "You're certainly in high spirits."
Emmett cracked up. "What a terrifically bad joke!" he said. Pink spotted his cheeks briefly, but when I glanced again, it was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
A Few Minutes in Ecto-time
I stared above. Nothing but murk, stretching into darkness. I took a few more steps down the immense spiral staircase, following Emmett. I stared below. More murk. More darkness. Dead Town had no shadows, but it made up for it with a more than ample supply of blackness and gloom.
"Where does this spiral staircase lead to?" I asked.
"Nowhere. It's infinite," said Emmett.
"But if it's infinite, it must manage to make it to somewhere," I said.
"It doesn't get anywhere in the end—because it doesn't end. So, it doesn't lead anywhere," he countered.
"But we are going somewhere?" I said.
"Yes. We're in a hurry, too. I think we're late," he said.
"Late to find my father and brother," I said.
Emmett tapped his forehead as he continued downward, misting through the steps in a lazy way, not bothering to walk. Meanwhile, my feet ached on the hard steps, for I wore only socks.
"What were their names? I don't remember them," he said.
"Samhain Despair—he goes by Sam—and Able Despair," I said.
"Aha! I remember Able. He recently returned from the far dimensions. You could try to contact them from here, but don't be surprised if it doesn't go through. This infinite stairwell of the void does not get good telepathic reception," said Emmett.
"Great. That just figures." And he was right—I couldn't sense anything from Sam or Dad at all. Of course, the messages, when I sent them, fell flat. "Take me back up! I want to try to reach them," I said.
"No, I think someone of your caliber must certainly see the council before any other visitations," said Emmett. He kept spinning lazily downward. I couldn't see his face or gauge his mood.
"My caliber? You mean my—talents? Why would they need to see me about that?" I asked.
"Oh, they see anyone who might be promising. You qualify, believe me. You've given me quite a shock, and I don't mean literally—well, perhaps that, too." He flashed his sunny grin back at me. He certainly found bad jokes and puns amusing. It was dorky, but a little endearing. To be honest, I also liked word jokes.
"The Dead Town council should have nosed you out years ago. I've no idea why you remained hidden from us for so long. Normally, we intervene at the first sign of power even remotely as strong as yours. I suspect concealment—possibly as protection from others." He said the word in such a dark and ominous voice. I didn't like the sound of it.
"What others?" I said.
"Spirits or mortals who seek to destroy you. The Turned Against," he said.
I recalled the cloaked couple who had chased me, back in Portales Espirituales.
"Oh. Those others," I said. "What do they want?"
"You. Either they fear your power, or they find your existence incompatible with their beliefs. Kind of boils down to the same thing." Emmett yawned, stretching his arms way up. "I'm sorry. Evil power-mongering is such a tiresome subject. I'll try to focus. You're possessed of some power and could be under threat."
"Those others—they said they wanted to teach me," I told him.
Emmett puffed up at that. "I will teach you," he said in a pompous voice. He stuck out his chest and drifted downwards. "Come on."
My head ached with dizziness from traveling around the spiral staircase so many times, and yet Emmett continued passing through the stairs at a leisurely pace. The flying Chihuahuas echoed somewhere to the side, squee-yipping in the enormous space surrounding us. Probably navigating via echolocation. They were half-bat, after all. I stopped walking and plopped down on a stair. "I need to rest. Can't I take a moment to look around?"
"If you must. But I did tell the council you'd meet them at one hundred and nine minutes past sixty-seven on last Thursday, so I believe we are late," said Emmett.
"I'm not claiming I understand ecto-time," I said.
"Neither am I," Emmett muttered.
"But if you said you'd be there last Thursday, I'm pretty sure that yes, you're very late, so couldn't we rest a moment, and stop to smell a few of these dead things you have that pass for flowers?" I said.
"All right. I'm not entirely sure it isn't last Thursday now. But go ahead. We aren't getting any older, so I suppose it won't matter." Emmett sat, hovering over a step, and took a scroll out of his waistcoat. Actually, he took it out of his chest, but I hated to beleaguer details like that, since it might not be polite. He sat reading, unrolling the scroll, while I caressed a black rose that garlanded the central post of the stairway. The rose's head promptly fell off. I peered into the heights and could see little except darkness. What I could see seemed to stretch up forever. I looked down and had the same problem.
I picked up the dead rose head and put it in my pocket. On my right, I could make out the stones of the castle wall, plus the creepy tatters of a hanging tapestry. A few bats flitted by, reminding me of the Chihuahuas. "I wonder what's happened to our little bat-Chi's?" I said.
"What a fabulous name for them," said Emmett, not looking up. "I imagine they're still whizzing around above, where there's deadlight. They'll be fine. The infinite stairwell of the void is a great place for them to play." He went back to reading his scroll. I scooted next to him.
"What are you reading?" I tried to peer over his shoulder. I missed my journal, and I kind of wished for a scroll to write in.
"It's news.
The Nonbook tells me what's been going on. Or what's about to happen. Sometimes it doesn't distinguish," he said.
"Let me see. Is it like an app? Why can't you tell whether things have happened or not?" I asked, reaching for the scroll. My hand sank through it, leaving a film of cold ectoplasm clinging to my fingertips.
"I'm sorry. I've got it locked for my use." Emmett sniffed. "However, if you like, I can provide you with one after we reach our destination."
I peeked over his shoulder anyway. The spidery handwriting, stilted and crawling, the ink a dark wine color. Spectral script!
"So, Emmett," I said, making my voice casual, "Tell me really why you've been writing to me in my notebook."
"I might as well ask why you've been writing to me in my Nonbook," he said, holding out the scroll for me to see. When the script resolved to English, I recognized my own handwriting on the parchment. "What kind of mortal could do that? Between this, and the extra spectricity emanating from the junkyard, I just had to find out who you were."
"So then—it was you who told me where Sam is?" I asked.
"Indeed." He frowned at me. "I seem to recall we had an agreement." He held out the parchment. I saw my neat cursive handwriting.
Yes. If there's anything I can do in return, I will do it.
"Oh. I, uh, might have written something like that." I blushed.
Emmett smiled, rather wickedly, his eyes black as thunderclouds. "Do you always promise strange spirits that you'll do whatever they desire?"
My face grew even hotter, my ears burning. "Of course not. That was my first séance, and I got carried away. I'm new at this."
Emmett's smile turned wolfish. "There might be some little thing you can do for me."
"What's that?" I asked in a tiny voice.
Mortals: Heather Despair Book One Page 12
