The Demon's Grave

by E. M. MacCallum

  Aidan started toward the stairs. “Maybe if we make it to the end we can get our friends back.”

  “Or find them along the way,” I added, hope straining for traction.

  Read didn’t appear convinced, he muttered something under his breath before following.

  No one spoke as we felt our way down the spiral stairs. Each step echoed off the walls, a grim reminder of our vulnerability. Even with Aidan in front of me to test each step, I was cautious. All I could imagine was Damien creating a hole where there wasn’t one before and we’d plummet into that floating dark. I didn’t want to lose anyone else. I wanted to know that they were okay.

  In the pitch black, I kept my hands on the wall, listening for Aidan’s steps ahead of me and feeling Read’s breath tickle the hairs on top of my head from behind.

  The gritty brick crumbled under my fingertips, numbing them the farther we descended.

  When light began to seep into the stairwell I was relieved and our steps quickened. We reached the second floor of the old Victorian house, unscathed.

  It was still dark but at least lights were coming through the windows.

  Lights?

  “Are those streetlights outside?” I asked, squinting as if that would help. It really didn’t. There should be a dark little pond amongst hanging trees, not multiple city lights.

  Aidan stepped up to the only window that wasn’t in a bedroom and cleared his throat. “It’s city lights,” he confirmed.

  It would appear we weren’t done this particular Challenge.

  I straightened my shoulders and Read cursed under his breath and glanced at me. Catching my eye, he offered a small smile though it betrayed him and he looked away.

  “Any more nightmares you want to brief me on?” Aidan asked as he stepped away from the window.

  Did living nightmares count?

  “Nothing that sticks out.”

  Read shook his head. “I don’t dream,” he said before eyes bulged, “except that one before we came here. Think that might…‌?” He didn’t dare finish.

  I shook my head, hoping that would be enough to console him‌—‌it wasn’t.

  Aidan said. “No use just hanging out up here. I don’t want to be covered in any more spiders. No separating.” The last two words hung in the air as he turned his icy-blue eyes to Read and me.

  We nodded together and I twisted my camisole in my fists, knowing I’d probably stretched another shirt already.

  Aidan led the way down to the main floor. My swollen knee stretched each time it bent, feeling fat and stiff. I tried to camouflage my hobble. No use worrying about something I couldn’t fix right now. In my research I’d learned that scorpion stings were recoverable without a hospital. Unless I went blind or lost all feeling, I could survive.

  On the main floor I could make out the fireplace in the next room, the scattered bottles, cans and the sleeping bags were all laid out the way we had left them.

  “He’s pretty big on details,” I thought out loud, unsure if I was impressed or not.

  Read rushed on tip-toes to the living-room. “Yeah, but our bags are gone.”

  I guessed the sweater I’d wanted earlier was no longer an option.

  Aidan made his way to the tall window closest to the front door and inspected the outside lights.

  After several drawn out seconds, I asked, “What’s next?” Inching closer to the tall, narrow window Aidan was peering out, I tried to weave my head to see around him, but it was a futile effort.

  Aidan glanced over his shoulder as Read joined us in the entry. “I think the black door’s somewhere out there,” he motioned to the window.

  He didn’t bother addressing me, just Read. Frowning, I ducked and shouldered Aidan out of the way to see the city street. I could feel Aidan’s breath on my shoulder as he asked. “What do you think it is? Any ideas what nightmare this could be?”

  Numb, I shook my head, then realized he wasn’t asking me.

  “I told you, I don’t dream. Any you might have had, Aidan?” Read asked.

  The station wagon wasn’t there. The trees had been replaced by concrete, dilapidated apartments, pawn shops, litter and potholes. In the distance I swear I heard a siren.

  Collectively, we pressed our faces against the narrow rectangular glass alongside the door. Read’s chin brushed the top of my head and Aidan wove behind us to get a better look.

  “Awesome,” Read muttered unimpressed. “We’re downtown.”

  There weren’t many people, but there were people. They didn’t linger in one place for long. One man was jogging into an alley while another stumbled out of it in a drunken stupor, hitting every car and wall until he disappeared around a corner. I wondered if they were part of Damien’s little world or if they were trapped like us. Could they be doing a Challenge or had they failed and had to make sure we failed? I shuddered at the idea.

  The streets were lined with bulky old cars that I’d seen in movies surrounding the 1950s. Most were rusted with flat tires and were multi-colored‌—‌different hoods and mismatched doors. It matched the rest of the street that seemed to be fighting between a glossy new shop and crumbling apartment. It was typical downtown, minus the 1950s decor.

  Read touched my shoulder. “Is that…‌”

  Without warning, a grisly face slapped against the opposite side of the glass.

  We all shouted with a start.

  My head hit Read’s jaw, his teeth snapping shut and sending a pressurized throb through my skull. But it didn’t stop us from running away from the window.

  Aidan hissed for Read and me to stop.

  I was halfway to the stairs and Read was ready to run through the dining room to the back of the house. “He’s saying something,” Aidan whispered.

  Freezing by the stairs, I held my breath to listen over my heartbeat.

  The haggard thing was barely loud enough to hear through the window. “Very bright out here. Very bright indeed. Very bright out here. Very bright indeed.” He wore rags that draped over his bony frame and were useless against the cold. He hadn’t shaved in weeks and what few elongated teeth he had were stained yellow.

  What scared me wasn’t his clothes or peculiar speech, it was his eyes.

  He had none.

  There weren’t eye sockets or eyebrows bristled above, just a wrinkled layer of flesh where eyes should have been.

  The deformed old man seemed to be looking at us while repeating. “Very bright out here. Very bright indeed.”

  The chill ran from the base of my spine and up through my shoulders and I remembered to take in air again.

  Aidan waved his hand to get our attention before whispering. “We need to get out of here before Damien finds a way to force us out.”

  I knew he was right but at the same time, I felt a brittle safety in here. Out there, we were walking targets. There were too many eyes‌—‌or lack of eyes‌—‌and they were all watching us step into their minefield.

  Shuffling toward the front door, Read whispered. “What about him?”

  The old man kept his face close to the glass, croaking his phrase.

  “We run across the street if he comes after us,” Aidan said.

  “To the alley?” Read asked.

  Aidan nodded after a pause.

  “You mean where did the drunk guy stumbled out of?” Read asked.

  Aidan’s icy stare didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Wherever we can then,” Aidan said with tight lips, “but we stick together.”

  “Can you run?” Read asked.

  It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I reached back and bent my knee, stretching my thigh. The skin felt tight but again, no pain. “It feels fine. Just looks ugly.”

  Read eased closer to the door. “We need a better plan.”

  Aidan frowned. “Like what? Wait for this place to catch on fire?”

  I flinched at the harsh words but he was right. We had to move but I didn’t have to like it. Read caught my ha
nd and muttered. “Here goes nothing.” Read swung the door inward, exposing us to the run-down street.

  Stepping outside, Read stopped short.

  Ready to run, I collided with Read’s back. The eyeless stranger didn’t acknowledge our presence, still pressing his face to the window of the Victorian house. Determining that the old man wasn’t a threat, Read started to walk between the cars and toward the road.

  Sneakers scraping on the sidewalk, Aidan and I watched the old man while Read kept his face turned to the opposite side of the street, pulling me along. Somehow my sweaty palm didn’t slip.

  The only sound behind us was, “Very bright out here. Very bright indeed.”

  The roadway was cracked and pitted. Traffic lights changed, but no vehicles were running.

  I didn’t recall having any nightmares in the city, but anything was possible.

  We reached the other sidewalk unnoticed. Read asked, “Any ideas?” He squeezed our slick hands together.

  Glancing at Aidan, I saw his face had gone ashen. “What is it?” I asked.

  Shaking his head, Aidan darted his gaze up and down the empty road. “I just realized that this is my nightmare.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Standing in the middle of the road, Read turned with an impatient shrug. “So, what are we looking for? Should we be hiding somewhere?”

  “Maybe from them?” I asked and pointed to the street corner opposite the Victorian house.

  A group crowded around polished motorcycles. Unlike the cars on the street, these bikes looked as if they were just rolled off the assembly line, though they still held the antique flare of the rest of the vehicles. The oversized headlight, thin handle bars, large tanks and skinny wheels were nothing like the modern variety I’d seen zipping around Leland.

  Read and Aidan looked up the street in surprise and ducked at the same time.

  Following their lead I scurried behind a Chevy with a purple bumper. Clustered together between two vehicles we could hear the raucous laughter fill the street ahead.

  “Aidan,” I whispered. “What happened in your dream?”

  Aidan motioned me to be quiet.

  I followed his gaze toward the Victorian house‌—‌which was crammed between two gloomy apartment buildings. The haggard old man shuffled inside, his verbiage trailing behind. “Very bright out here. Very bright indeed.” He didn’t seem to have any interest in us whatsoever.

  “Aidan,” I insisted in a whisper.

  A few car lengths north of the Chevy a stereo crackled to life, filling the air. An echoing voice sang followed by a choir of voices doo de doo’ed in the background. The slow song sounded like something from the 1950’s.

  Read and I exchanged a curious glance as the echoing main voice mentioned a game. Read pulled his hand from mine and we both wiped our slick palms on our jeans.

  “What is it?” I asked Aidan. “What should we be looking for?”

  He didn’t answer, his eyes kept wandering to the cars then down the street and to the motorbikes; apprehension creasing his youthful features.

  Read’s shoulders sagged, exasperated. He looked ready to say something when the roar of an engine smothered the music as well as my yelp of surprise. It stopped Read cold.

  Aidan jumped and grabbed my arm as if I were the one to save him.

  Craning my neck to see if there was a single vehicle taking up the roadway, I saw none. It had been so loud I couldn’t pinpoint the direction it came from.

  The music began to take over the street once more, a new song erupting from the crackling speakers.

  Between shallow breaths, Aidan said, “come on.”

  Before Read or I could question him, Aidan stood up and started in long, purposeful strides, that kind that was harder to stop.

  Read nudged me to move, or rather shoved me. Panicked, we hurried to catch up to Aidan. Looking to him, our pace quickened to keep up. Aidan stared straight ahead. His lean figure was rigid, but he hadn’t slowed.

  Keeping close to the buildings, we passed the occupied car playing music. I could see three teenage boys inside. The muffled vintage music carried through the window.

  I felt the scream choke in my throat as we passed. The passengers didn’t have eyes.

  Their shapeless pale faces lacked not only the eyes but also mouths. The skin where lips should be had stretched horizontally, sealing any opening. The only portion of their faces that was noticeable was the lump of their nose‌—‌without nostrils. Even their hair was all the same color, styled the same, with a part in the middle, and they wore the same collared shirt and slacks.

  I thought to myself, It’s just a few of the faceless, nameless people of this city, like any other…‌right? Maybe the demon had a sense of sick, very sick, humor.

  I could hear, the eerie chorus of voices within the car, making it all the more surreal.

  The three boys in the car watched us pass, as is if they could see. They turned their heads as we hurried along and I found myself staring back for as long as I could.

  Nearly tripping over my own feet was the signal to stop.

  I realized that Aidan was aiming for the biker types at the same time as Read, who growled under his breath, “I don’t think we should be going this way.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. Was he insane?

  Aidan didn’t answer.

  I tugged on him as hard as I could and dug my heels into the concrete, getting Aidan to halt. He jerked back and stared at me like I’d fouled some important scheme.

  “What is it?” I asked. “You’re freaking us out.”

  Read was nodding beside me. “Dude, you have to tell us what’s going on.”

  Aidan looked past us and then up the street before licking his lips and shuffling from foot to foot, nervousness drawing his pale skin taut. “If…‌if this is going the way…‌” he held up a hand and started again, still not looking at us. “If this is my nightmare, then I don’t want it to end the same.”

  “What happened?” Read asked.

  Aidan sighed, his pale gaze continuing to shift. “There was a car…‌” He began to wring his hands together. “In real life, it belonged to my cousin, Adam. When I was a kid he was driving me home from a baseball game when a drunk driver T-boned us.

  “Afterward, I started having nightmares that Adam’s car was trying to run me down. Like it was getting back at me for taking too long. He had to pick me up from practice. Well you know, it was guilt stuff.” Aidan avoided my sympathetic stare and turned to the bikers who were beginning to take notice of us.

  “What happened to your cousin?” I asked.

  Aidan kept his face turned away. “Died in the hospital.”

  I felt an empathetic twitch in my chest. “How old were you?”

  “Nine.”

  By the way he shoved his palms into his jeans pockets and deflected my gaze, I wasn’t sure if I should tell him I was sorry or avoid it altogether.

  “What did you do? In the dream, I mean.”

  The question got me a glare that could melt ice. “I ran,” he said as if I was slow.

  Alright, it was a bit of a dumb question, but I had a point. “Do you ever get away?”

  “I usually woke up,” he watched the bikers and they watched us.

  “Aidan, we have to get out of this alive. And if you didn’t get away by running then we need an alternative.”

  Then without thinking it through, I blurted, “I’m sorry about what happened.”

  Aidan winced, Read frowned as if I had broken some man-rule.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Never thought it was,” Aidan growled, shutting me down. “But this nightmare still exists. I just didn’t think that I’d be repeating it for real. To top it off, I’m dragging friends with me.”

  “You’re not dragging us anywhere,” Read said with certainty. “We said in that first Challenge that we’d do this together.”

  I glanced at Read, hoping to ca
tch his eye.

  Aidan looked away, scowling. For an instant I saw the anger that emitted from the doppelgänger in the previous Challenge. The creeping suspicion returned. If this was the real Aidan, which I believed it was, he could still turn into that bitter guy soaked through and blaming me for everything. The Others had been right about Robin. Before I could indulge the idea further my thoughts were snapped out of their focus.

  “Listen,” Read said firmly, “I’m just as freaked out as you two, but we need to keep our heads.”

  “Aidan…‌”

  Aidan held up his hands to silence me before crossing them over his chest, “I’m thinking.”

  Read gave me a “We have to think up something fast” raise of his thin eyebrows.

  Twisting back around, I reached up and touched Aidan’s cheek with my fingertips to get him to look at me. The moment his piercing eyes swept to meet mine, it all felt far more intimate than I intended.

  Drawing back my hands as if I’d been slapped, I stuttered. “Auh-Auh-all we had to do in mine was admit it was a nightmare. Maybe it’ll work this time?”

  Aidan’s eyes shimmered with doubt. “If something happens to anyone…‌” He frowned, refusing to finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to.

  The pressing silence turned our attention to the group of bikers on the corner of the street.

  These people were no different than the other occupants of this world. Two of the five had eyes this time‌—‌well at least three eyes all together‌—‌but still harbored other deformities.

  Aidan nodded to them. “I was on foot in my nightmare. I don’t want to try and outrun a restored Maserati A6G, especially if this is going to be real.”

  Read whistled impressed, though I had no idea what a restored Maserati looked like. I could only conclude it was fast and expensive.

  I inspected the heavy-looking bikes and frowned. “You’re going to steal those bikes? Do you even know how to ride one?”

  “I do,” Read volunteered.

  “All three of us can’t fit on one bike,” I pointed out. “And there’s five of them against three of us.”

  Read grimaced. “Then let’s hope one of you is a fast learner. At least one of the bikes should fit two.”