by Simon Holt
“No, she would never—I won’t believe that.”
Blood dripped down Eben’s pant legs and spilled across the ice, coloring it red.
“She told him her secrets and left you in the dark.”
“She thought she was doing the right thing—”
Eben shook his head.
“So naïve for such a smart boy. It’s like I said—people don’t change. There’s no hope for you.”
The old man turned away and began to shuffle back across the ice, leaving a small and gawky Aaron standing openmouthed by the two bodies. The tire iron was heavy in his bony arms. He looked down at Reggie. How could he possibly hope to protect her when he was such a pathetic weakling?
A strong, cold hand gripped his throat, and Quinn hissed in his ear.
“Time to die, Cole. Try not to get your self-pity on me, okay?”
Anger suddenly sprouted in Aaron. Using all of his strength, he whirled the tire iron backward, cracking Quinn in the skull. The Vour dropped him and Aaron splayed across the ice. For just a moment, the ground looked more like wooden floorboards than frozen pond water, but before Aaron could think too much about this, Quinn was dragging him by his foot to the hole in the ice.
Aaron kicked violently and, in his attempt to wrest his leg out of Quinn’s grasp, slammed the tire iron on the ice. There was a sickening crackle, and the surface beneath them broke. Both Aaron and Quinn plummeted down into the dark and frigid water.
24
You have no power here.
Above the screams, above the roaring of the Vours rushing past her, above the maniacal laughter echoing down the hallway, Macie’s words filled Reggie’s head.
You have no power here.
She didn’t. She couldn’t even stand, much less mount an attack against the super-Vour. And even if she wanted to, how would she go about doing such a thing? Macie had all of the power in this place, and Reggie had none of it.
Reggie rolled over onto her back. Her hair was wet and sticky with blood, and her muscles throbbed with pangs of cold. How long, she wondered, before Macie ripped open the portals to all the humans in the world? Days? Hours? How long before every living person was infected by a Vour, taken over, and forced into a fearscape? Would the world look different when that happened? Would it start to look like this place?
When would Macie get to the people Reggie loved? To Henry, to Dad, to Aaron? Reggie’s thoughts turned to her best friend. She didn’t know how long she’d been lying here, but it seemed like years since she’d seen him. He had been on the ice, trying to protect her. He and Quinn were ready to kill each other, but that was wrong. They weren’t enemies anymore….
Her thoughts grew more focused. Aaron and Quinn were still stuck in Macie’s fear construct, and they were going to fight each other until one of them, or both, were dead. There was always the possibility of saving someone who had been Vourized, but there was no rescuing someone from death. She might already be too late. But if not, she had to stop Macie—somehow—and destroy the fear construct before Aaron and Quinn destroyed each other.
Aaron.
Aaron.
Aaron.
She repeated the name in her head over and over and over again, as though the word were a piece of flint she was striking against steel.
Aaron.
The screams in her ears lessened.
Aaron.
The blood seemed to recede.
Aaron.
Finally, a spark seemed to flame up inside her. It was small, but it was the first bit of warmth she’d felt in this place. She might be some kind of hybrid, but she was still mostly human, and to survive here she needed that humanity. She filled her mind with images of her best friend, dredging up every memory she had of him, everything he had done for her, everything he meant to her. The flame grew, slowly spreading out through her limbs, so that she didn’t feel quite so hollow anymore.
But it was so easy for that emptiness to return. The second one of those awful shrieks pierced her thoughts, the warmth would ebb away, but she persevered, focusing all her energy on remembering her human life.
Her fingers twitched, and then her toes. She moved her head back and forth, and then she sat up slowly, carefully. She pushed herself up onto one foot.
Only a handful of Vours flew past her now; most had followed Macie down the passageway. But every time one got near her, she felt an icy prick in her heart and had to redouble her concentration. Gray fog wisped around her.
She was crouched on both feet now, and with every ounce of effort left in her she straightened her legs and stood. She wavered for a moment, holding out her arms for balance, but she stayed upright.
Reggie took one step, and then another, jerkily stumbling forward. Her limbs responded like molasses, but at least they were responding. The cold still penetrated her, but she was able to fight against it now. With every step she grew a little stronger, a little bolder, a little faster.
But the farther she went, the more the dread clung to her as well. The hall was much darker now, the screams distant but replaced by a low moaning. It was as though the corridor itself were alive but badly massacred by Macie’s claws. The membranes that had covered the portals hung raggedly like skin torn from a bone, and pus seemed to drip from the walls.
It was so violent. However much Reggie hated the Vours, there had at least been some laws that governed what they could and couldn’t do. Macie was destroying this balance—forcing open a brain was an act of pure savagery and unnaturalness. The portals were now like open wounds that would never heal.
And through these wounds, in addition to the blood and pus, seeped the fear. Visions swarmed past Reggie’s eyes as she passed doorway after doorway to the fearscapes. She swatted at them like flies. A snake leaped out at her and wrapped around her neck, strangling her, then disappeared. A chain saw buzzed at her ankle, and she felt its teeth rip through her skin with a searing pain, and then it was gone. She came to the edge of a cliff and, moving too quickly, stumbled over it, only to land on her knees on the floor of the hall. The walls began to close in around her, so that she was forced to crawl forward through the blood and smoke.
She was so exhausted, both physically and mentally. Her brain would not be able to take the stress much longer. And besides that, what was she going to do when—and if—she ever caught up to Macie? How could she possibly fight that demon when she could barely move in this world? The despair was like a weight around her neck, pulling her down into a swamp of horror.
And then her fingers brushed against something small and hard on the ground. Reggie stopped, surprised, and gripped the object. It was a metal disc of some kind. She drew it up out of the smoke and brought it close to her eyes, peering at it through the dimness. It gave off a tiny glow of its own, and Reggie let out a small cry when she realized what it was. She had seen it before, a year ago, locked behind a wall in Macie’s basement, draped on the skeleton of Jeremiah.
It was a St. Giles medal.
Quinn propelled himself up through the icy water. The shocking cold had stunned his brain momentarily, but luckily his body’s survival instincts had sprung into action. Why had Aaron done it—pulled him under like that? Where was Aaron now? Somewhere underwater still?
Quinn reached the surface and somehow managed to haul his body onto the ice. His teeth chattered so violently he thought they might crack, and he knew his skin was turning blue. A little way away, Reggie and Henry lay sprawled on the ice. At least they still seemed safe.
Aaron had just gone nuts—talking to himself and yelling crazy things. Come to think of it, Quinn couldn’t remember how they’d gotten out here in the first place.
He crawled a few feet, then collapsed on his stomach. The cold was beyond numbing; it was painful, like one of his limbs was being sawed off. He coughed, and black sludge poured out of his mouth onto the gray ice. Quinn looked at it, perplexed.
“I knew it.” Aaron’s shoe appeared next to Quinn’s cheek, and he tapped it up an
d down.
“Knew what?”
“What you are. You can try to hide it, but I see right through you.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the psychopath who dumped me in a frozen lake!”
“Only to prove a point. Get him up, boys.”
Strong arms grabbed Quinn by the shoulders and hoisted him up. Glancing to either side he saw that Machen and Mitch were the ones playing the roles of Aaron’s henchmen.
“What’s going on? What are you doing?” Quinn demanded.
In answer, Aaron pulled out a switchblade and held it to Quinn’s palm.
“Why did you come back?”
“What do you mean? You brought me back, remember?”
Aaron swiped the blade across Quinn’s hand. Quinn yelped in pain, but Mitch and Machen held him firmly.
“Did you come back for her?” Aaron nodded toward Reggie.
“I came back—I don’t even know what you mean! I came back because my life was here!”
Aaron picked up a lump of snow and crushed it into a ball with his hands.
“Tell your buddies—no Vour’s life is here.”
“Vour? Whoa, Aaron, I’m not a Vour anymore. Reggie saved me, remember?”
Aaron shook his head, smiling at Machen and Mitch.
“Such acting chops, this one. I almost believe him. Really, I do. But you’ve got to work on your tell.”
Aaron smashed the snowball into Quinn’s bloody palm, and Quinn howled in agony. But that pain was not as great as the horror he felt when he saw his hand wither into a blackened stump at the touch of the snow.
“No!” he cried. “I swear, it’s a mistake—I’m not a Vour!”
“But you tried to kill me, Quinn.”
Reggie had rolled up onto her feet. She walked slowly toward them.
“When I was a Vour, yes, but that wasn’t really me!”
“What about last week? When I was in your room—you almost strangled me to death. Remember?”
“I don’t know what that was. I’m so sorry…. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I guess it’s just a coincidence that everyone around you seems to get hurt, then.”
“I’m not evil. I’m not. I won’t let it take over.”
“It’s not a choice thing. You are what you are,” Aaron said. Reggie nodded.
“You’re infected, Quinn. You’ll never be human again. We can prove it another way, if you like.”
Machen and Mitch forced Quinn onto his knees and pushed him over so his head dangled above the hole in the ice.
“You ready? Hold your breath,” said Aaron, and he shoved Quinn’s head under the water. He held it there for a couple seconds, then pulled it up again. Quinn coughed and sputtered, and a plume of black smoke erupted from his mouth and nostrils, along with black flecks of ice.
“Yahtzee! That’s the money shot!” Aaron rocked back on his heels as Quinn continued to spit out the water from his lungs. All of his skin was turning black now, as if hypothermia were creeping across his body.
“Not human,” said Reggie, shaking her head. “It’s a shame, too. I always thought you were cute.”
Aaron went in for another dunk, but Quinn was ready this time. He pulled Machen down first, shoving him into the water, then scrambled out of the way as Mitch grabbed at him. Mitch landed hard and his leg poked through the ice and caught there.
Quinn bit his lip in fury and ran at Aaron. The two rolled across the barren winter landscape, kicking and biting and pummeling each other. The rest of the world seemed to disappear.
25
It was the one thing that could have inspired Reggie to keep going. This place might not be a fearscape, but the St. Giles medal was a bread crumb. It belonged to Macie—the human Macie. It had been her brother, Jeremiah’s, and it was a symbol of her crusade against the Vours. Most importantly, it meant that there was still some human part to the monster that was now tearing apart the fabric of the world. Reggie just had to find her.
Macie was so far ahead, and this corridor was endless. But maybe Reggie didn’t have to catch up. The Vour was proud and wanted to prove she was stronger than the human. Reggie just had to put up more of a fight.
She stood as tall as she could and breathed in the foul air around her. She didn’t feel very brave, but she was going to have to fake it if she was going to get Macie back. Clutching the medal in one hand, she bellowed down the passageway.
“MACIE!” she yelled as loud as her voice could bear. “Macie, I’m not finished with you yet!”
She took a few more steps, shouting at the top of her lungs, which burned each time she drew in another breath, filling them with the frigid air. The shadows that had dissipated began to return, surging around her. They seemed to laugh at her; they flew into her mouth and down her throat, so that she coughed on her words and choked them back up. But still she called out for Macie.
The temperature continued to drop as more and more Vours filled the passage, turning the air black with their swarming. And then she heard the low cackle. It grew louder, and the black shades parted to let Macie through. She had grown taller already, and her arms looked like bloody pitchforks used for the sole purpose of ripping bodies apart. Viscous skin and muscle hung from her talons, and when she smiled a cruel, wicked smile, Reggie saw the same matter stuck in her bloodstained fangs. She had apparently taken to ripping open the fearscapes with her teeth as well as her hands. Like Reggie had done, she was now, in a way, literally devouring fear, and it had made her stronger.
“You want to go another round?” Macie spat.
“I do,” Reggie replied. The medal felt hot in her clenched fist.
Macie shrugged, then sped toward Reggie, her fangs bared, her claws outstretched. Reggie could not move fast enough, and the Vour was on top of her in seconds. She gripped Reggie with her nails, piercing the skin on her back, and sank her teeth into Reggie’s shoulder. Reggie cried out as smoke rose from the wounds and the thousands of Vours around them jeered at her.
Macie threw back her head and chortled, and in that moment Reggie whipped out the medal and slung the chain around the Vour’s neck. Surprised, Macie fell backward, unsure what had just happened. But when she looked down and saw the silver medallion thump against her chest, her face twisted with rage.
She dove again at Reggie, but the girl was already probing into Macie’s mind, searching for the human part. The touch of the token had split the two sides, at least momentarily—Reggie could sense the fear that the real Macie felt. And then, her thoughts like fingers, she grabbed at it, pushed at it, like she had in Unger’s and Mitch’s minds. Only this time, she was going to push it further. She had to get the human part alone, away from the Vour. She had to build her own fear construct.
Reggie closed her eyes, using all of her will to concentrate. When she opened them again, she was in the basement of Macie’s old farmhouse.
She looked around. It was exactly the same as she remembered it: the dark, the cold, and a glass wall at the far end, behind which a skeleton sat in a rocking chair—Jeremiah, Macie’s brother.
This was the room where Macie had locked up her brother the Vour. Unable to save him, she had devised a way to trap him. She had sat with him for hours, days, years, until old age had taken his body, and his soul had finally been released. The Vour, however, had remained imprisoned behind the glass, and this was the creature that Reggie herself had devoured that cold December night almost a year ago.
But there was no sign of Macie herself now. Anxiety prickled across Reggie’s skin. Had she failed to bring the human Macie here? But she couldn’t have—this was what she had seen in the woman’s head. She had constructed the scene based on very specific fears.
“Macie?” Reggie called out into the room.
There was no answer, but she heard a tiny squeak.
“Macie?” she asked again, peering into the dark corners.
Squeak. Squeak.
Reggie walked the perimeter of the basement.
Every few seconds she would hear the faint noise, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. And then, as she neared the glass wall, it grew louder.
It was dark behind the glass, and hard to see, but Reggie drew close, nearly pressing her face against the window. She thought she saw movement.
Squeak.
The rocking chair pitched back and forth, and Reggie saw the glint of something shiny within.
“Why am I here?” asked a low voice.
“You tell me, Macie.”
The figure got out of the chair and approached the window. Reggie was surprised to see a young girl, not an old woman. Her skin was pale and almost translucent, like a ghost’s. Flaxen tresses hung straight off her scalp and looked more like yarn than hair. Her eyes were small and black, like a doll’s. The St. Giles medal hung around her neck.
The young Macie drew her finger down the glass.
“I locked him in here, you know. For years. He begged me to let him out. He cried. He whimpered like a sick dog. But I hardened my heart.”
She spoke so softly and so low that Reggie had to press her ear to the glass to hear her. Her voice was like crickets chirping, faint and hollow.
“I don’t mean for you to relive this,” Reggie said. “I just needed to get you away from… from the other. I needed you to be locked away someplace safe, where we could talk.”
“You think this place is safe?” Macie asked.
As if in response, the entire room shuddered like an earthquake had hit. Reggie glanced around. The walls flickered. Macie shook her head.
“No place is safe,” she said.
A noise like beating drums sounded outside the room.
“Please, Macie, I need your help,” Reggie pleaded. “We’re not in a traditional fearscape, but it’s the best I can do. This is your Vour. You need to conquer your fear once and for all to beat it. No pressure, but I am not exaggerating when I say the world is at stake.”
“But I’m in a cage,” Macie replied.
“Yes, I think you’ve been trapped for a long time. You never got to have a life—not once you saw your brother get taken on the cross. After that, your existence was tied to the Vours. Your sanity got locked deeply away. I think you’re afraid of being free. But you don’t have to be!”