The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga)

by Hudson, Stephanie

  “Guess I still got it.” He whispered then turned his attention back to the slight crack the door had opened. Then it was like déjà vu all over again as a sickly looking hand snapped out like it had a mean bite. Bony fingers covered with translucent skin uncurled requesting payment. I was waiting for Sigurd to place something in its hand, like an old coin or maybe some kind of ancient relic. But when the time came I couldn’t suppress the scream his actions caused.

  And just like the spider that attacks the fly, he sprang into action. The same hand that had knocked to request entrance was now a deadly predator over my shoulder. He grabbed the out stretched hand, yanked hard and then sunk his teeth into the papery skin and powdery flesh. This all happened with me wedged in between them, too stunned to move.

  A great howl came from behind the door where the owner to the savaged hand was still hiding behind. I then watched as Sigurd retracted a set of fangs I hadn’t seen before, but he didn’t let his prisoner go. No, instead he let the shadows that ruled half his body flow over his hand down to his fingertips. The darkness seeped from every pore and overflowed onto the palest hand, creating a living Yin and Yang of the flesh.

  I was so close to both their hands I was seeing every detail lit only by the faint moonlight and the flickering of the old round sign above us. The black liquid oozed into the deep gash his teeth marks had made and when one single black drop was solely consumed, Sigurd finally released his victim.

  The hand snatched back through the door with a slam and I was about to turn to unleash my anger on the big oaf when we both heard the door swing open fully.

  “Well that was subtle.”

  “No sweetheart, that was payment and proof. Now, after you” He countered.

  We both walked through the door and I looked around to try and finally see who the hand belonged to. The pub didn’t open up into a large room like I would have thought, more like a hallway you would find in an old house. The walls were lit with candles which added to the eerie gloom and I looked to my left to see a door. Above it an old sign said ‘Chop Room’ and above that was a painted portrait. It was a picture of an elderly woman with her arms folded as though even she disapproved of me being here. She even looked like a strict headmistress, with her grey hair, regal demeanour and three strings of beads hung around her neck.

  That doorway had one opposite it, so I turned to see what lay hidden there but doing so nearly stopped my heart dead from ever beating again. Now I could see who the hand belonged to and it was one action I wished I could have taken back!

  The creature stood in the doorway and no amount of mental fortress my mind had built could get the image to fall back. A tall thin figure was like a hellish bone snowman against the background of a night sky. Its body was made from a twisted set of endless bones all entwined with no reasoning behind them. It reminded me of a body made from hundreds of white elastic bone bands but wrapped around and around bigger bones of its long limbs.

  Its head was similar to its body, only more elongated at the back of its skull. Again this was covered in the same bands of bone and an opening for its mouth was its only facial feature. Other than that it appeared blind.

  I took a step back and was comforted by the hard chest my back found. When an arm secured me tighter to him I felt my body instantly relax into the hold.

  “Lead on!” Sigurd commanded the large albino stick man.

  “Very well you bastards, this way.” The thick London accent didn’t really match the picture I was seeing. Then he started to move and when I looked down I realised the humanoid figure was tapping away on the floor with bone stumps as he was missing his feet. I had to make a conscious effort to hold down the bile.

  I little nudge from behind me told me that it was time to move and I had to force my grateful feet to follow the white ghostly form in front of us. As I passed both doorways I noticed another sign on the left. It had different names Like ‘Court Bar’ and ‘Johnson Bar’ on the wooden board and underneath, written in chalk whether or not the places were open. I didn’t take a genius to gather this place must be a honeycomb of different rooms, if they needed a sign by the front door.

  “Keep going, sweetheart.” Sigurd told me gently as I stopped to look up at the sign. I nodded and walked past but as the flames flickered with my movement I saw something twist in the words painted on the wood. ‘Cellar Bar’ was there one minute in yellow paint and with my next blink, it had been replaced with ‘Hell’s Bar’. It looked as though some small child had finger painted the words with blood. A chalked arrow pointed down and I shuddered when I saw the tangled bone man disappear down the small staircase.

  I think Sigurd heard the frightened lump I swallowed as I received a reassuring squeeze on the arm. I looked down at my feet that only half willingly moved towards the stairs and I noticed a strange type of sawdust on the floor. It was almost like the creature in front was leaving a trail of tissue or skin like breadcrumbs for Hansel and Gretel to follow. But somehow I doubted I would be finding a cute little gingerbread house at the end of this road.

  I turned fully back on myself to climb down the narrow staircase and noticed another sign painted on one of the steps above. This one, like the others, once again morphed the words, so instead of saying ‘Mind Your Head’ as I passed it said, ‘Mind Your Soul’.

  “Careful!” Sigurd said behind me as I nearly slipped on a narrow step because of it. I looked back and saw that to get down the steps he had to almost bend in two it was that tight a space. I saw the snow figure waiting for us at the bottom. It was a small square room with a dark stone slab floor and four shut doors all close together. To my right there was an open doorway which is the way I thought we would go.

  There were two doors straight in front of me with only enough space for a fire extinguisher in between. Then to left there were two more other doors, one Ladies, the other Gentlemen…neither of which I was expecting to find where I was going. When I saw the grotesque figure stop by the two doors in front, I thought this is where we were to continue on alone. Well, a girl could only hope.

  “No øjesten, just wait for it.” My large protector said after stopping me from walking through the open doorway. So I did as he asked and waited for something to happen. I didn’t have to wait long. The bone stick man moved closer to where there was a wall mounted strip light and it flickered madly the closer he drew. Then he raised his hand to the plastic casing and pushed against the light. The beam of yellow turned crimson and then the two doors ahead of us swung open with such force I jumped back. Sigurd’s arms locked around me to hold me steady.

  The two doors now touched each other as their hinges had been together in the middle. I looked into the red glow and where I expected to see a tunnel leading to doom, what I saw made me speak.

  “A cleaning cupboard...! Really?” I heard a chuckle behind me and then a hiss from the creature in front.

  “Just watch, lille øjesten.”

  I did as I was told and soon found myself gasping. The Demon in front pushed the light until it disappeared all the way into the painted brick wall and then the red light started to come from inside the cupboards. The doors started to shake as the glow got brighter and then before I knew what was happening, the parts that were hinged switched sides. Now as the doors slid shut they had become a set of double doors instead of two separate ones. The fire extinguisher in the middle of them started to melt just as the doors were closing and it puddled on the floor causing me to step back.

  The new substance spread out in a line as though forming some sort of demonic red carpet. It stopped an inch before my booted toes. I whipped my head up in shock and saw the white figure holding out one painfully thin arm. Did this guy even have flesh?

  “After you, Bitches.” He said and I cringed in place of a smile. The doors now held a pair of knobs that looked like stone skulls in the shape of rabbit’s heads. I took one step forward on the remains of the fire extinguisher and then nearly jumped a mile when the doors started to re
open.

  “I’m not sure she wants to go down there, Hunter.” The demon all but sniggered and I heard the usual growl vibrate from behind me.

  “Go ahead øjesten, I’ll take care of you.” He whispered sweetly in my ear, emphasizing his words with a little squeeze of my shoulders. So I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the dread lying in the pit of my stomach like a block of dry ice. I walked forward and thought sarcastically, well I wanted to know where the dark tunnel to doom was, now I’d found it! Of course, now it looked like I was about to walk down a staircase straight to Hell and the red lighting that seemed to come from nowhere was helping with that fear.

  My one constant strength in all this was the feeling of Sigurd at my back and every now and again I would draw comfort from his touch. The further we went down the harder it became to breathe, as though the air was being sucked out through the rough cut stone that belonged to deep earth. You could actually see the tool marks that had chipped away at the stone no doubt through years of hard labour.

  A few times I almost slipped and it would have been a painful time for my back landing on stone steps, if it hadn’t been for my guardian. I was happy though that the sides of the tunnel travelled up into a high peak and this wasn’t only to help with the claustrophobia, but more down to my large friend being able to descend the steps in comfort.

  I don’t know how long it took us but it felt like we had made our way down thousands of steps and I wondered if this actually wasn’t the route to Hell itself. Surely we were deep enough? I was just about to start voicing these opinions aloud when finally the bottom could be seen. My relief was let out in a grateful sigh and Sigurd grunted his laughter by my neck.

  “Now for the tricky part.” I nodded my understanding but just as we came to the bottom he spun me round to look at his covered face. His lips were in a grim line and I soon found out why with his next words.

  “No, you don’t understand. I know how well your mind blocks out my kind, but down here, so close to the forces that breed us, those walls you built will crumble to dust the second you step through that door.” I turned to see the door he spoke of but his grip tugged my attention back to him.

  “You will be defenceless in this Keira, if they want you to see them you will have no choice…you think you’re ready for that? And if the time is forced upon us…ready for me?” Was this what he was really worried about, that I would see his other side? That I would freak out and run from him? I may not be able to see this fear in his eyes, but I knew anxiety when I felt it.

  “Please don’t worry about me Sigurd, I know what I am getting myself into.” I said trying to sooth his fears but when I turned around to face the entrance that held my own fears, his words made my breath hitch.

  “I sure do hope so, lille øjesten, because…” He walked past me and stood near the door ready to open it and release a world that I really wasn’t ready to become a part of.

  “…the Beast knows we’re here.”

  Chapter 26

  Freakin’ Show Me the Host

  The door opened and instead of the sound of flesh hitting flesh and grunts of pain, my ears filled with the musical chimes of…fairground music? It was an eerie, disturbing sound that didn’t remind me of happy childhood memories, that was for sure. It was a darker version with its tap tapping and dings on triangles with an undercurrent of haunting cries, humming to a deadly tune.

  I couldn’t help the shudder, quickly followed by goosebumps adorning my flesh.

  “Sigurd, what…what is this place?” I asked on a whisper and grabbed his jacket from behind. He turned his head down and round looking at me over his shoulder before stating softly,

  “This is a Demon’s playground.”

  I followed his movement closely as we walked into a curtained area, where the music grew louder, along with my anxiety. Swathes of material in dirty yellows, oranges and reds swept down from the ceiling where they were gathered and pulled back to create an entrance way. A box that came up to my waist stood to one side and this was made from worn looking crates that some time ago had been painted in white and red strips. Sigurd stopped at the box and thumped down a sideways fist, making me jump.

  “Blimey, you’re a big fella ain’t ya?” I looked down to where the voice came from and saw a dwarf demon wearing a crumpled, wide pin striped suit of white and grey, making it look as though someone made the thing from old fashioned prison clothes. His face was painted into a crude sad face with high arches for eyebrows and a small black dot on the end of his nose. He was smoking a cigarette and wearing a bowler hat that had a dead rose attached to one side.

  The Dwarf looked up at Sigurd and then shrugged his shoulders before walking round the other side of the striped box. It sounded like he was heaving himself up until his head came back into view.

  “Payment in the hat, Sunny Jim.” He said nodding his hat off his head and rolling it down his arm before catching it in his hand. I squealed as I saw his head. He had what looked like a massive bullet hole on the top of his bald skull and a spoon handle sticking out, at an angle.

  “Ya looking at something, missy?” He said cocking his head to one side along with a hand on his hip. I almost gagged when I saw blood spill down his head in a little gush, thanks to the motion.

  “No, she isn’t. Now, how much Kobold?” Sigurd snapped making the little guy frown in a way that also made his lips scrunch to the side.

  “Names Puck A.C.T.U.A.L.L.Y.” He said emphasising each letter slowly.

  “Yeah, well tell someone who gives a flying fuck…Puck!” The dwarf huffed a cute little growl before giving Sigurd a sneer and shaking his hat.

  “Price is a tenner, you big asshole, fifteen for bringing your own little Goth bitch in with ya!” At this, it was now Sigurd’s turn to growl, only I had to say hands down he won on the intimidation front. The striped box shook slightly in reaction to Sigurd’s outburst of anger. But before things could escalate, I fished out the fifteen quid and stepped up to put it in his hat.

  “Well, at least it’s cheap.” I said in an overly enthusiastic tone.

  “Yeah, just like your date.” Puck said and Sigurd’s rumbling growl got a level deeper. I just managed to grip his arm which was coming up to lash out at the suicidal dwarf.

  “Sigurd please, let’s just go deal with the reason we are here.” I pleaded, before this guy lost his little head to a work related injury.

  “Fine!” He snapped before relaxing his fist into a flat palm that he slapped down onto the box. Puck looked a little relieved and reached up to grab the spoon from his head. I couldn’t help my gag reflex when I saw him slap a dollop of blood from the spoon onto the back of Sigurd’s hand. I then watched as the blood turned into a stamp that was an upside down triangle with a little V underneath it that the ends of the triangle curled across back on itself. I saw him then flex his large hand, after pulling it from the box.

  “You’re next, Goth Bitc…” He was stopped short when Sigurd’s hand whipped out and cut the end of that word from his strangled breath.

  “Beauty…I…mea…nt… beauty.” He said with great difficulty.

  “Aye, I thought you did.” Sigurd said letting go, making the little guy cough.

  “If you will…” The growl made him add a hasty “Please” and I stepped forward. I felt the big guy at my back and looked to the little guy in front of me, when I heard the soft words of encouragement whispered in my ear.

  “Hand flat, palm down and don’t make a noise as it burns.”

  “Uh…come again?” I said thinking this was one Hell of a bad idea!

  “Don’t worry Princess, it’s more like a little tickle...” Puck leaned forward and whispered behind a little hand,

  “Think of it as a loving caress by the Devil.” He winked at me and I groaned whilst rolling my eyes.

  “Yeah right!” I said as I rolled up my sleeve and slapped my hand down, just as Sigurd had done.

  “That’s the spirit, human!” He smiled sh
owing a row of tiny pointed teeth that all had gaps in between. I tried not to grimace as he reached up once again for his spoon, but I don’t think I accomplished it. Then I closed my eyes and repeated softly,

  “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” making Puck chuckle.

  “Oh, she’s a corker this one!” He said and I opened my eyes just as the liquid touched my skin. The blood started to itch at first but then, as it changed shape, the burning started. I was about to move it away when Sigurd came to restrain me, keeping my palm firmly against the box.

  “Give it time, my øjesten.” He said sweetly and I let his scent roll over me as the burning started to subside. He eased his hold but instead of letting me go completely, he took my hand in his and led me away from Puck. I looked down at my slightly throbbing hand and saw that I now had the same mark that Sigurd did. It looked like a stamp you would have received at a nightclub.

  “Welcome to The Devil’s Ring ya bastards, you be sure to have fun now!” Puck shouted at us, as we walked through the curtained doorway. I looked back to see him grinning and snapping his teeth at me in what looked like pure Demonic glee.

  “What…what was that?” I stammered out as I was practically being dragged along through the long curtain entrance, that didn’t seem like it would ever end. Sigurd stopped swiftly and then raised my hand up for his inspection. His thumb made soothing little circles over it before answering me. I looked up at him and I could just imagine the vulnerability he must have seen in the depths of my eyes. I could safely say that, considering how I was feeling right now. I had no doubt I must have looked like a scared baby deer looking down the barrel of a shotgun, silently begging the hunter with my eyes.

  “That is the Grimoirium Verum, or ‘Grimoire of Truth’.

  “The what?” I said while no doubt raising a sceptic eyebrow.

  “It’s also known at the Sigil of Lucifer.” He said as though getting frustrated.