“Why did they let him keep the extra piece when they caught him?” Ryan asks.
“Well . . . I don’t . . . I don’t think they let him, he just —”
“They didn’t, like, search him or something?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t there!” Peter says, rather testily. “It’s just a story, anyway!”
Mr. Gabriel clears his throat. “A true story,” he says. “The amulet was found, and is now in my possession. But the final piece is still locked away with its creator. Which is why Cynthia is going to find him and retrieve that missing piece and bring it back to me.”
“Find him?” I ask, confused. “Don’t you know where he is?”
“Oh, he knows,” Peter says. “Everyone knows.”
“Not everyone,” I point out.
Mr. Gabriel starts to speak, then makes a little abortive hand gesture in the air. “It’s . . . well, the name of it won’t make any sense to you. But it’s basically demon prison.”
I turn to Peter. “What does that even mean?”
He closes his eyes for a long moment before looking at me. “Okay, so . . . you know how awful this place is? How much you hate it, and how you are never really quite able to grasp how demon society works and why we all turn on each other all the time and there don’t seem to be any rules or anything?”
“Uh . . .”
“So this place he wants you to go to, it’s the place where they lock up the very few demons who are so much worse than the rest of us that they can’t be allowed to roam freely about.”
I blink at him, taking this in.
In the meantime, Peter turns back to Mr. Gabriel. “How are we even supposed to get inside? The wards . . .”
Mr. Gabriel smiles. “Well, that’s where our friend Cynthia comes in. She’ll be able to get past the wards. They’re constructed of demonic energy. Which can’t stop her.”
“But . . . but what about Ryan and Peter?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “They can walk you to the inner boundary. After that, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
My mouth opens, but for a moment nothing comes out. Because . . . because that’s not fair. I can’t do this alone. I can’t.
“She’ll never make it on her own,” Peter says. “What’s the point of sending her if she’s just going to die in the first five minutes?”
“Hey!” I say before I can help it. I mean yes, I was thinking the exact same thing, but somehow when Peter says it out loud it feels much more insulting.
“Cyn,” Peter says, “there are lots of bad things in that prison, and not all of them are the prisoners.”
“She’ll be fine,” Mr. Gabriel says. “Well, or she won’t, but since she’s the only one I know who can get in there at all . . . she’ll have to figure it out.” He turns to look at me. “Your roachness should be able to help you stay alive. Just try not to get into any physical altercations. Be, you know, sneaky and stuff.”
I gape at him. “But . . . how will I even know where to go once I’m inside?”
“Oh, yes. Almost forgot. Come over here for a second.”
“Uh . . .”
Mr. Gabriel gestures impatiently, and the cart-demon steps forward. I take several steps back before Mr. Crunchy’s stealthy arm-claw stops me again, forcing me to remain still while the false facade of the monster that attacked me before comes toward me. My throat has not at all forgotten the feel of that tentacle wrapped tightly around it.
“Wait —”
“You’ll need a little help to find your way to your objective,” Mr. Gabriel says. “I’m going to give you a kind of compass.”
“Sure, okay,” I say. The cart-demon is standing right in front of me now. “Just hand it on over, then.”
“It’s more of an internal upgrade. Temporary, don’t worry. Now come here.”
“No,” Ryan says. “Cyn, don’t let him —”
“Cyn has to let me,” Mr. Gabriel says. “If she wants to fulfill her end of the bargain and save you, Sweeney.”
“I haven’t even officially agreed to this bargain yet,” I remind him.
“Well, agree if you’re going to so we can get started,” he says, clearly getting annoyed. “I’ve got other things to do, you know.”
I suppose he’s right. If I’m going to do this, I should get on with it. And I have to do it, because otherwise Ryan will die. He’s getting closer to dying with every second we stand here.
“All right, then. I accept the terms as laid out earlier.” I repeat them again, just in case: everything he said about not harming or commanding others to harm Ryan, Peter, Leticia, Diane, William, their families, Annie’s family, or my family, in exchange for fetching the amulet piece for him. “Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
I feel the deal-induced tingly sensation again and hope very hard that I haven’t made a terrible mistake.
“And now for that compass,” Mr. Gabriel says, nodding toward me. Then cart-demon places a fake-humanish hand on my arm and I jerk away.
“Okay, fine! But call this guy off. I can walk over to you without his assistance, thanks.”
He gestures again, and the cart-demon backs off about an inch. He follows me as I walk slowly over to where Mr. Gabriel flickers before his urn.
He seems to concentrate for a second, and then his right arm becomes noticeably more solid-seeming than the rest of him. He reaches toward me, and I want to step back, but the cart-demon is directly behind me now and I want to touch him even less than I want to let Mr. Gabriel touch me.
I force myself to stand still as Mr. Gabriel places his palm against the exposed area of skin between my collarbone and the V-neck of my shirt. The sensation is strange; his hand doesn’t feel like an actual hand but also feels more there than I’d have expected his hologram body to feel. Although I guess I should have expected it, remembering the all-too-solid feeling of his holo-tongue against my ear earlier. I repress a shudder.
And then there’s a surge of — something — from his hand, and I feel a sudden blooming of fire and fullness deep in my gut. Now I do step back, I can’t help it, and I want to scream at the cold pressure of the cart-demon behind me and the simultaneous burning in the center of my soul.
“Calm down,” Mr. Gabriel says. “It will fade in a moment.”
Even as he says this, the feeling begins to become less intense. In another few seconds it’s just the merest sense of awareness in the pit of my stomach.
“What did you do to me?”
“I told you. Internal compass. You’ll know when it starts to work. Just follow where it wants you to go.”
I step carefully around the cart-demon and walk back over to Ryan. Then I turn back to face Mr. Gabriel. “And so . . . then what? Assuming I reach this amulet-making demon without dying, he’s just going to hand over the missing piece when I ask him?”
“You’d better hope so,” Mr. Gabriel says. “If he seems reluctant, tell him I will owe him a favor once I’ve got my throne. As king, I’d be able to release him if I chose. That should be enough to bargain with.”
This is all starting to seem even more impossible than it did before.
The darkness and the closeness of the rocky walls and the enormous presence of Mr. Crunchy distributed around the chamber all feels like suddenly way too much. I need to get out of this cave/hole/whatever the hell it is and out of this crazy demon-infested underworld and back to the world that makes sense, where my friends are, where there is school and pizza and musical theater, where most of the time monsters are not trying to kill you. It’s true that some of them still get up there sometimes, but here they are everywhere, there are at least three in this room alone, and I need to get the hell out.
“It’s okay, Cyn,” Ryan says softly, taking my arm. “We’ll figure something out. You’re not going in there alone.”
Mr. Gabriel chuckles and shakes his head.
“Run along now,” he says, gesturing to Mr. Crunchy to escort us out. “Oh, and Cynthia?”
I wait for whatever parting shot he just can’t resist taking.
He smiles his most winning smile. “Do try to get back in one piece. I still want to have the pleasure of killing you myself when this is over.”
I force myself to smile winningly right back. “It’s going to take more than a shiny new body to get you what you want, you evil piece of shit. I helped you die once, and I will do it again. And this time no one will be waiting in the shadows to save your sorry ass.”
I wish I could make my own eyes burn like his do. My knees desperately want to give out right now so that I can curl up in a whimpering little ball on the floor, but I am not going to slink away from him in defeat. Especially since I probably will die before I get back, and this might be the last thing I ever get to say to him.
“Okay!” Ryan says as Mr. Gabriel’s expression transforms into something far less happy. “Time to go!” He turns me quickly around, toward the opening leading back to the alley.
“Yes,” Peter says. “Please lead the way, Mr. Crunchy!”
After a glance at Mr. Gabriel, who apparently grants permission, the insanely smiling Mr. Crunchy makes his jerky follow-me motions and squeezes back out through the doorway. We follow him. I wince at the pain in my arm as I brace myself against the wall. The cut stopped bleeding sometime during Mr. Gabriel’s terrible poem — it wasn’t actually all that deep, despite the pain — but it’s clearly going to hurt for a while yet.
I notice that Ryan makes sure that he is walking between me and Peter.
I lean across him to ask, “So, how bad is this demon prison place, really? I mean . . . he must have a good expectation that I will be able to do this thing. It would be stupid to go to all this trouble if he really thought I was just going to die on the way. Because if that happens, then he won’t get what he needs and he won’t get to kill me personally.”
Peter runs a hand over his face. “It’s . . . it’s pretty bad, Cyn. I mean I’ve never been there, I’ve only heard things.”
“Is it like a regular prison with cells and guards and things?”
He shakes his head. “No. I think they just kind of shove the prisoners inside and lock the door behind them. There’s an outer boundary that’s freely accessible, and then the inner boundary is where those wards are, the ones you can get through but we can’t.”
Right.
“Okay, but we’re going to figure that out somehow,” Ryan says. “And so we’ll all go in, and let’s say we don’t die and we make it through and we get this missing amulet piece. What then? We come back and then he regains his physical form and then he kills Cyn and takes Annie? I’m not sure I see the point of going on this errand if that’s the way it’s going to end.”
“I assume,” Peter says, “that Cyn is expecting to come up with a brilliant plan somewhere along the way.”
“Don’t act like you know her better than I do,” Ryan snaps. “And just to be clear — that, back there, was the last time you are ever going to kiss my girlfriend.”
“Let’s not do this, please,” I break in. “Peter is half right. I mean I’m not expecting to come up with a brilliant plan, but I sure am hoping we do. At the very least we’re buying some time to figure something out.”
I turn to look at Peter.
“And,” I continue, “Ryan was entirely right. That was the last time, Peter.”
“Whatever,” Peter says. “I’m not going to apologize for enjoying it.”
We fall into an uneasy silence, following Mr. Crunchy. The streets/alleys/crevices seem to be getting more and more desolate the longer we walk. We don’t see any other demons. Which, of course, I’m grateful for, because I think we’ve all had enough of demons trying to kill us, but it also seems strangely ominous. Like this is the part of town so sketchy that even the Really Bad Demons are afraid to lurk in it. The buildings around us all seem to be abandoned. The areas we were in earlier, where we first arrived and where Mr. Gabriel’s hideout was, had seemed recently demolished — physical fallout from the infighting and chaos in the wake of Mr. Gabriel’s escape and assault on the demon queen. This area seems like it’s been falling apart for a very, very long time.
Eventually we turn one last corner and find ourselves facing an enormous black wrought-iron gate that has to be at least fifty feet tall. It’s set in a circular stone wall standing alone in the center of a rubble-strewn square. The area enclosed by the walls is only about the size of a large in-ground swimming pool. There’s certainly no prison right there behind the gate; it must be some kind of portal. Inside there’s a swirling mass of what looks like black smoke. It doesn’t extend even one wispy tendril beyond the boundary of the gate and the wall.
Mr. Crunchy stops and looks back and forth between us and the gate, smiling.
“Yes, we get it, thanks,” I say. “Give us a minute.” Because I totally need a minute.
Mr. Crunchy does not seem inclined to give us even a few seconds. He begins herding us toward the gate with his king crab legs. The gate, as if sensing our approach, swings wide open with a hideous metallic screech and waits. The gaping black space revealed is so like an open mouth that I can’t help expecting a giant tongue to come sliding out toward us.
Mr. Crunchy gives us another push. I dig my feet into the ground, but they skid forward relentlessly. Ryan is struggling to resist the demon’s shove beside me with similarly ineffective results.
“Hey!” Peter says in a very commanding sort of voice. Mr. Crunchy stops and looks down at him. “What were your instructions? To guide us to the gate, yes?”
Mr. Crunchy hesitates, then nods.
“Well, you have followed those instructions, haven’t you? Here we are, successfully guided to the gate. Well done! You should probably return to your master to see if he will reward you for your excellent service.” When Mr. Crunchy still hesitates, seeming confused, Peter adds, “Don’t worry. I’ll take it from here.”
Mr. Crunchy’s smile brightens. He nods once more and then turns and lumbers back in the direction from which we came.
The gate remains open, waiting. The black smoke seems to beckon us toward it, but still remains somehow contained within the circular space.
“Is this — this isn’t the part yet where I have to go alone, is it?” I ask in a voice that comes out sounding much smaller than I would like. I know I should be doing this alone. I know it’s my responsibility. But now that Ryan and Peter are here with me, I can’t bear the idea of having them leave my side.
Peter shakes his head. “Not yet. The gate leads to the outer boundary. We’ll be able to see the inner boundary once we go through. I think.”
“You think?” Ryan asks.
“I told you I’ve never actually been inside. I only know what I’ve heard.”
Ryan grumbles something sarcastic and unhelpful and Peter mutters something back, but I ignore them both because I am too busy staring at the swirling blackness that we are apparently just supposed to walk into. I step forward and tentatively reach out one finger to touch the place where the smoke stops. It’s cool and slightly damp and . . . and it pulls at me. I edge closer, horribly fascinated. I watch my finger disappear, and then my hand up to the wrist. The pulling increases.
I swallow and pull my hand back, and it’s harder than I am comfortable with. The smoke doesn’t want to let go.
I take a careful step backward.
“Cyn!” someone hisses right behind me, and I almost stumble forward through the doorway all by myself. I whip hastily around.
It’s Aaron. He’s sort of crouching in place and wearing a hooded cloak-like thing that absolutely screams I am trying not to be noticed.
“Aaron!” we all shout.
“Shh!” He looks around. “Jesus, shut up, will you? I’m glad I caught you before you went through. I didn’t dare approach until the big guy took off.”
He’s cleaned up slightly since the last time we saw him, but he still looks pretty bad. There are huge dark circles un
der his eyes, and his hair is completely flat and shapeless against his head. Clearly there hasn’t been time for his usual hair-care rituals.
“You all have to go through together, or you might not end up in the same place.”
We stare at him in confusion as he hurriedly gestures behind him.
And then we see Annie come running toward us from a dark alley on the other side of the square.
“Aaron.” I grab his stupid cloak and pull him very close to me. “What is she doing here?”
He stares back at me in alarm. “She said . . . when I went back, to the library . . . you were gone, but she said I was supposed to . . .” He trails off at the expression on my face. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry, Cyn. I thought . . . she said . . .”
“Cyn!” Annie yells, throwing her arms around me.
I want to scream at her. I want to scream at her and then punch her in the face and then scream at her some more. Also, I want to kill Aaron for not only bringing her here but then leaving her alone in a dark alley where anything could have come along and snatched her away or killed her on the spot or a million other unspeakable things.
But mostly I want to send her safely back to where she belongs. Immediately.
“Aaron,” I say, disentangling myself from Annie. “Take her back. Right now.”
“But — but she said you needed her here. With you. For the plan —”
“What plan?”
Aaron is beginning to look very strange. “The plan to help my mistress. The one — she said you were —” He turns and stares incredulously at Annie. “You lied to me?”
Annie has the grace to look ashamed. “I had to! You wouldn’t have helped me otherwise!”
“Well — no! Not if you’re — oh, no, Cyn, you can’t — I told you, you can’t give him what he wants, you can’t, don’t you see? He’ll be stronger than ever!”
“I have no choice,” I tell him. “Now take Annie back.”
“No,” he says. “Not unless you swear to me that you’ll stop this madness. We can make a deal —”
Curse of the Evil Librarian Page 9