The Thirteenth Curse

by Curtis Jobling

  “So where will his corpse be?” asked Max. “The original one that was strung up from the Hanging Tree?”

  “Perhaps you can consider its whereabouts as you run,” said Clay.

  “But Clay, there are still so many questions I want to ask you!”

  “Regardless, you should be running.”

  “Running?”

  “Run!” boomed the earth elemental as the first wave of monsters spilled forth from the dark and twisting tunnels. They came in a rolling, roaring, snapping mass, tooth and claw tearing at the air as they charged at the boy with the crown of flames.

  Max ran.

  TWENTY-ONE

  xxx

  THE TIDE OF TERROR

  If the horde that erupted into Clay’s cave had expected an all-you-can-eat Van Helsing buffet, they were in for a sorry shock. The first thing they caught was a pair of flash bangs launched into their midst. The smoke grenades, part of a bulk buy from an army surplus store, were billowing gray clouds before they even landed, swallowing the mob in a heartbeat. The second thing they caught was a shattering glass jar, as a hundred marbles bounced across the floor beneath their feet. It was old school for sure, but Max had always been a sucker for Home Alone. And besides, the marbles worked. The beasties went down in a screeching heap of thrashing limbs. The third and final thing they caught—those who’d evaded the smoke bombs and the marbles—was the sight of Max’s skinny butt sprinting for a tunnel, away from the trailing terrors.

  He paused to glance back, catching sight of Odious Crumb tackling a group of the creatures to the ground. Short though he was, they were half his size, their skin a dark scaly green: kobolds. In folklore, they were known as mischievous sprites that could be helpful or hindering. In truth, they were a world away from that playful picture. Consummate carnivores and occasional cannibals, they were never happier than when chomping on raw meat. Max suspected they’d have no problem if that meat came from a certain young monster hunter. In fact, judging by their current state of frenzy, he was at the top of their menu.

  “Get gone!” shouted Crumb as he went down beneath a scrum of the monsters, buying the boy a few more moments, hopefully not with his life. One of the kobolds looked up from atop the pile, its disklike yellow eyes widening as it saw Max. It snarled, leaping off the pawnbroker, followed by more of its kin.

  “Run!” boomed Clay once more, the whole chamber shaking as a large pack of monsters bounded forward toward Max. Earth and stone fell from the cave’s ceiling as the elemental bellowed, showering down on the charging line of kobolds and quickly burying them. But even with Crumb’s sacrifice and Clay’s clever avalanche, more of the lizard-skinned beasts kept coming, bounding over their fallen comrades as they leaped toward the teenager.

  Sprinting, Max took the tunnel with a trickling stream that found its way into the earth elemental’s cavern. He hoped if he followed a passage that ascended, it must lead back aboveground eventually. Of course, this was the Undercity, a land rich with magic, and the same rules from back home might not apply, but the young monster hunter pushed aside his worries. Climb. That’s all he had to do.

  The kobolds might have been the size of second graders, but they were fast, easily keeping pace with Max. The torches that had lit up Clay’s cave were behind him now, leaving the youth charging blindly into darkness. He cursed himself for having lost his flashlight while overlooking the Undercity. As he ran, he fished a hand into his satchel, at last finding what he needed. Out it came, and with a snap, the high-intensity glow stick cast its white light around him. He held it out as he ran, dizzying shadows dancing off the tunnel walls. The mob was hot on his heels, snarling and snapping as they gave chase.

  Max regretted wearing the massive rubber waders. Effective as they might have been for stopping Gallows Hill’s effluence from clogging his toes, they did nothing for his running style. His gait had changed from agile scamper to flat-footed galumphing, throwing his limbs out with each clumsy step. The tunnel abruptly split ahead, leaving Max with a millisecond to make up his mind. Pink eyes the size of dinner plates flashed in the right-hand tunnel, and the choice suddenly became easy. Taking the left fork, he didn’t wait to see the owner of the giant eyes, but he heard its growls as it joined the pack of kobolds.

  The distant rumbles from Clay’s cavern were far behind, as were the cries of Crumb. He hoped the half goblin was okay. Whatever Jed and Clay had thought of the pawnbroker, perhaps they’d been wrong. If he survived the swarm of kobolds, Max owed him a favor. That was if the world didn’t end, of course.

  The tunnel was rougher underfoot now. Max stumbled, slowing down to avoid a broken ankle, leg, or neck, possibly a combo of all three. His heart was galloping, his muscles burning as he powered into a second wind. By all rights, he should have collapsed by now, after the day and night he’d endured, but somehow he found those energy reserves that set him and his forefathers apart from the norms. Not for the first time, Max thought of the phrase “touched by magic,” so often used to describe the Van Helsings; after lifetimes spent within the supernatural world, had some of that unearthly essence actually found its way into their bloodline?

  The incline was steep, and Max occasionally had to scrabble for purchase with his hands. Ahead he could see a narrow, jagged slit of illumination cutting the darkness in two. As he neared he saw a crack in the rock, the walls closing in on either side of him. Beyond the narrow opening was a light source. He tossed the glow stick back down the sloping tunnel he’d ascended, spying exactly what was on his heels.

  The luminous bar bounced off the floor and into the air, casting white light over a dozen angry kobolds. It struck one on the head before ricocheting off the back of another. The former reached out, snatching it from the air triumphantly as if it were a trophy. His victory was short-lived, the larger beast from the other tunnel emerging from the kobolds’ midst, huge jaws snapping down over the kobold’s arm, enveloping the glow stick. The light was snuffed out instantly, accompanied by the smaller monster’s screams.

  Max hit the gap, brushing against the rough walls as they drew in around him. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the kobolds, so close now. He turned sideways, wincing as one jagged stone scored him across the chest, his right hand reaching forward to seize something and pull himself through. As if the width of the fissure wasn’t enough of a challenge, now the ceiling started closing in, causing him to catch his head on an overhanging spur of rock. Max fell forward, momentarily stunned as he bumped off the walls before hitting the floor.

  The snarls were almost on top of him now, the higher-pitched cries of the kobolds joined by those of the larger beast. Max tried to move but found himself snagged by his satchel, the strap bound around something. He reached back, fumbling in the darkness, finding the bag’s opening. He stuck his hand in, grabbing another glow stick. Max whacked it against the rock wall, the chemicals within reacting instantly and casting a white aura over the thin ravine.

  “You have got to be kidding!”

  The bag was caught on a stalagmite, leaving Max no option but to retreat back down the passageway to free himself. The glow stick also lit up the bigger beast in all its glory: a giant rat the size of a grizzly. Its enormous jaws slavered open, a long black tongue flickering as it crammed its head into the tunnel. Dark blood swilled around inside its maw, the remains of the hapless kobold’s severed arm caught between its teeth. Those incisors were already closing down on Max’s foot, cutting like daggers as they ripped into his wader. He half-expected to feel them shear the appendage off, but instead they held fast, buried within the rubber boot. The beast yanked him back a foot, effectively releasing him from the stalagmite. Max might have cheered, if it weren’t for the fact that it was hauling him back toward the kobold-filled tunnel, where he was destined to be torn to pieces. It shook its head like a dog with a bone, big pink eyes focused on Max all the while.

  “Sucks to be you,” said Max
as he lunged toward the giant rodent with the glow stick, striking at the monster’s immense head. The end of the stick connected with the rat’s massive pink eyeball, embedding itself deep into the socket. Max let go of his grip on the stick as the enormous rodent released its jaws from his leg. The hideous sewer dweller thrashed and wailed, backing away from the boy as it retreated half-blind to the main tunnel. Max slithered free, continuing on through the narrow passage, unexpectedly thanking his lucky stars for the waders.

  Max wriggled the remaining distance through the cramped ravine, until he emerged into a larger, more spacious tunnel. He tumbled forward, rolling over rails that ran in either direction. Cables and control boxes covered the curving walls. He’d somehow stumbled upon the T subway system, but whereabouts he had no idea. Was the Undercity truly so big that it stretched from Gallows Hill to Boston? Still, this had to be a good thing; it was bringing him that much nearer to the surface world. Glancing in one direction, he spied a solitary light a few hundred feet away, its bulb glowing dimly within its protective fixture. He set off jogging toward it.

  Judging by the garbage that littered the tracks, the tunnel was clearly out of use. Indeed, as he approached the dim light, he could see it came from an abandoned subway station, the platform’s edge looming into view at head height. Cries behind told Max all he needed to know about his chasing fan club of fang and claw. He spied a tiny iron ladder, hidden below the concrete platform lip about halfway along its length. He loped toward it, the awkward boots slapping noisily against the concrete sleepers between the rails. Crashing into the metal rungs, he clambered up onto the platform, glancing back all the while. The darkness was filled with the chattering of beasties.

  Turning full circle, Max looked around the dimly lit station. It was out of use like the tunnel, but at its far end he spied the faint outline of a grilled security door. Another light shone beyond it, illuminating a flight of stairs. Max could almost smell the fresh air, so close was he to freedom. He staggered along, noticing that the tracks on the opposite side of the platform were in fine condition, the other line clearly still in use. Hitting the grille with a clang, Max yanked at it, trying to pull it open. The mechanism groaned, refusing to shift. The end of a long wooden plank had somehow pinned itself against the base of the rusted steel gate, the other end wedged into a step. Max reached through, unable to knock the timber loose. More guttural cries behind only served to make him let loose a cuss that would’ve made a sailor blush. On the steps, he saw a pile of rubbish suddenly move. There was someone there, resting among the junk; a homeless person. The stranger turned the hood of a filthy parka Max’s way.

  “Hey!” cried Max. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see someone down here. Do a kid a massive solid and pull that plank loose, would ya?”

  He gestured to the length of timber, and the homeless person appeared to understand, shambling down the steps toward Max. The young monster hunter felt his heart soar—saved by the kindness of a stranger! The figure bounced into the grille upon reaching the bottom, causing the whole thing to rattle noisily. Max’s smile of relief turned to a grimace as a handful of pale, suckered tentacles, each a good foot long, whipped out from within the hood, straining through the iron bars to lash out at the teenager.

  “What are the odds?” Max muttered wearily, as the creature in the stairwell dragged the plank clear, keen to open the gate for altogether more selfish reasons.

  There was nowhere left to turn; the only unexplored route was the line on the opposite platform. Max scurried across, boots making such resounding thwacks upon the concrete, they could have pinpointed his position to a deaf dreikelwyrm in Düsseldorf. Seeing no sign of a subway train, he slipped over the edge. Fishing in his backpack, he found the last of his glow sticks, wishing to high heaven he’d brought more of them instead of garlic bulbs and holy water. With a snap, the rails were illuminated. All three of them: two for the train to ride along, a third to carry a death-dealing charge of electricity. Max never let that third rail out of sight as he jogged down the tunnel, keeping a respectful distance while looking out for any oncoming trains.

  “Living the dream,” Max whispered, as he ran headlong through his nightmare.

  He heard the kobolds spilling over the platform and down onto the tracks. Max had hoped to see the whole pack of them electrocuted by the live rail, skeletons lit up like they’d stepped straight out of Tom and Jerry, but no such luck. They had clearly encountered the subway tunnels before. Max fished his phone out of his pocket, its display lighting up to reveal the time as two a.m. A blessing that it was so late, as trains would be running on a limited service, if at all. Still no signal, though, since he was too far belowground. It wasn’t like he could call 911 for help. What’s my emergency? I’m being chased by a swarm of flesh-hungry monsters down a subway track. Sure, we’ll be right with you . . .

  Max was so lost in his misery that he almost missed the maintenance chute. He tripped, narrowly avoiding that dreaded third rail, as he hoisted the glow stick over his head. Fifteen feet above the tracks, there was a square opening in the tunnel ceiling where filthy rungs protruded from crumbling red bricks. No doubt it had once served as an access route for engineers and rail workers, back in a less safety-conscious era. Max didn’t have a prayer of jumping for it from below, but there were a number of rickety-looking, rusted rungs that still remained secured to the walls.

  He climbed the first few as fast as he could, getting ten feet off the ground before he got into a fix. At one time, a safety cage had surrounded this ladder, providing anyone traversing it peace of mind as they climbed. But this had been removed long ago when the tunnels were modernized. Instead, Max now faced four feet of monkey bars before he could haul himself up into the maintenance chute proper.

  “No time like the present.”

  Max tucked the glow stick into his butt pocket before flinging an arm out and trusting his agility. He tried to ignore the sound of the approaching kobolds, concentrating on the task at hand. His fingers reached out once more, just as the first monster appeared below. It leaped up, fortunately out of reach, but it was enough to throw Max off his game. He missed the bar, which sent him swinging back toward the first rail. Max grunted, both hands closing around the rung he was on. With a twist of his hips, he got his body going once more, kicking back off the wall behind him as more creatures gathered below. He caught the next bar, stifling a squeal of joy, carrying himself forward to the final bar beneath the access chute. Some of the kobolds were scurrying up the wall behind him, following the path he’d taken, only to find that when they reached the monkey bar portion their limbs were woefully short. They leaped out, hoping to catch the rungs, before catching only air and bouncing onto the tracks and their fellows below.

  “Ha!” yelled Max triumphantly. “How d’ya like them apples, you midget maniacs?”

  He instantly regretted gloating. Old Tentacle-Face from the station staircase had joined the melee, standing beneath the chute like a makeshift climbing frame as the kobolds crawled and clambered over him. The first kobold leaped up from the swaying tower, his claws barely missing the rubber sole of Max’s wading boots. The boy raised his feet in the air, straining with his left hand to reach the first rung up in the chute. His fingers closed around it, affording him the chance to reach for the next one with his right. His left knee came up, followed by his right, and soon he was squirming up the square chute, hands and feet finding the flaking iron rails. His head banged into what appeared to be a manhole cover.

  “Shenanigans!” he screamed, convinced the world conspired against him.

  He looked below, the light from his rear pants pocket shining down upon the pile of tooth and talon. The kobolds were almost upon him now, the first ones clawing at his feet. He kicked down, catching one in the jaw and sending it tumbling, only for it to be replaced by two more. Again, his heel went down, but another seized hold, biting down on the boot’s toe cap. Max hamme
red at the heavy metal cover above, shouting for help, while shaking his foot vigorously to loosen the kobold. It wasn’t happening. Instead, a second monster clamped onto his other foot.

  With all the commotion, the glow stick popped free from the pocket of his jeans, bouncing off the head of the first attached kobold before tumbling past. Max watched its descent, skittering off half a dozen of the foul-tempered fiends, and lighting them up as it fell to the tracks. When it finally landed on the sleepers, it rocked to a halt, throwing its unnatural light over the baying troop of kobolds. Somewhere within the throng was Old Tentacle-Face, playing his part in the hunt for a Van Helsing. Strangely, the glow from the fluorescent stick was far greater than Max would have expected, and seemed to be growing in intensity.

  That was when he heard it, above the frantic, fevered cries of the mob. The mass of bodies was suddenly blinded by light as the approaching train raced toward them down the subway tunnel. Max watched as the tower of monsters was skittled by the front carriage, smashed into bloody smithereens, five of the kobolds left hanging from his legs as the train hurtled by below. The remaining cave dwellers were now clinging to the youth for their lives. Max could feel his grip slipping above, their weight too much for him.

  He kicked his heels, wriggling his way out of the clumsy rain boots. Seeing what he was doing, the creatures tried to climb over one another to seize hold of his jeans, his belt, anything that wasn’t going to come loose from his person. Their plight was in vain. One after the other, the pair of battered, stinky, ripped-up rubber waders slid from Max’s feet, depositing the wailing killers down on the speeding train cars below, which carried them swiftly away into the darkness. The train was still rattling past when Max felt hands seize hold of him, lifting him up and out of the maintenance chute and depositing him back onto solid ground.