“Whatever you do, don’t get caught,” I warned. “I can’t lose you, Gwen. If it turns out to be too dangerous, just forget about it. We’ll find another way.”
Gwenlyn nodded, a confident smirk playing about her mouth. “Don’t worry, Morgan. I’m an expert at sneaking around.”
“Good,” I said. “You work on that. Meanwhile, we’re looking for a weapon down here that could get rid of Dominic’s ghosts, and zombies, I hope, for good. Is there a way for me to contact you again once we find it?”
“I think I have to contact you,” said Gwenlyn, “but I’ve pretty much got the hang of it now, so it shouldn’t be a problem to find you in the future. I’ll keep you posted. What’s this about a weapon?”
“Don’t worry about it right now. You just focus on getting me back to earth.”
She raised two fingers to her temple in a little salute, then she whipped around so quickly that her wild hair escaped from its topknot. “I have to go,” she whispered. “Someone’s coming. I’ll find you again when I can.”
And just like that, Gwenlyn disappeared from the television screens, leaving only static in her place. Worry clouded my mind at the thought of Dominic discovering Gwen, but I had to have faith in her ability to take care of things on her end. I allowed myself a few more seconds to gather my thoughts then turned to Dorothy and Calvin.
“Everyone ready?” I asked.
“For what precisely?” my father asked.
“This.”
I charged toward the nearest kiosk and pushed it over. Merchandise spilled in every direction across the floor of the mall, shattering. I aimed for the next kiosk and sent it flying. For good measure, I picked up a few items that hadn’t broken on their own and hurled them into the giant water fountain, watching them crack and splinter against the marble.
“Next level, here we come,” I muttered, marching into the electronics store. With all of my strength, I directed a mighty kick through the nearest television, feeling an intense satisfaction when it fell into the next one and started a chain reaction of falling electronics like dominos. Behind me, Dorothy and Calvin had joined in on the fun, rampaging through the mall to cause any kind of destruction they could. With a mad grin, I swept expensive speakers from shelves, ripped wiring from the walls, and smashed giant computer screens on the floor. When the noise of the demolition roared through my ears, taking over my senses, everything faded to black.
And stayed that way. No matter what direction I looked, darkness pressed in.
“Dorothy?” I whispered, frightened of what might be lurking in the shadows. “Dad?”
“Right here,” said my father’s voice to my left. I reached out, surprised to find his arm just inches from my own. I couldn’t even make out the whites of his eyeballs.
“Me, too,” said Dorothy, from my right. I felt her fingers search for mine, so I took her hand and drew the pair of them in closer.
My father’s voice was just as shadowy as the rest of this level, tinged with anxiety. “This is my least favorite level,” he said, his arm tightening around my shoulder.
“Mine, as well,” added Dorothy.
“I can’t see why,” I said dryly. “See what I did there?”
“It’s not the absence of light,” Calvin said. “It’s the voices.”
“I thought you two said you didn’t hear voices down here,” I griped.
“Not on the other levels,” said Dorothy.
We waited in silence for a few moments. I listened so hard that the quiet around us pressed on my eardrums, but as soon as I opened my mouth to scold Dorothy and Calvin for scaring me, I heard the first whisper.
Look at me. Look at me.
But there was nowhere to look, no creature to claim the disembodied voice. Or was it lurking in the darkness, waiting for the opportune moment to attack us?
Liar! Coward! Fool!
Another voice joined the first, a cool, slippery whisper. Then another, a low, hair-raising rasp. And another, a deceivingly dulcet hum. The voices built and built, infiltrating the space in between my ears. To either side of me, I could hear Calvin’s and Dorothy’s moans of distress through the cacophony. I focused on their pain, shoving the other voices away.
You’ll never return home. Rot here! Rot!
It’s all your fault, another voice said in my mind. You’re worthless.
Worthless.
“SHUT UP!” I shouted into the void, determined to block the voices out. I listened harder, trying to pick out Calvin’s ragged breathing and Dorothy’s defeated whimpers. Dorothy’s hand slipped from my grasp and slid down the length of my leg, as if she had dropped to her knees. They hadn’t been exaggerating before. This level affected them more than it affected me. I sank down to Dorothy’s level, pulling my father down with me.
They don’t want you. You can’t help them.
I ignored the voices, wrapping my arms around Dorothy and Calvin and pulling them as close to me as possible.
“I’m here,” I said loudly, hoping to break through Calvin and Dorothy’s auditory hallucinations, if that’s what the voices even were. “I’m here. We’re going to be okay. Don’t listen to them.”
Listen! Listen!
“Think of sunshine,” I told them, conjuring my own pleasant image in my head. I imagined Yew Hollow in the fall, my favorite time of year, when the sun streamed through the red and orange leaves, illuminating the entire town with a dusty, golden glow.
There is only darkness here!
I hugged Dorothy and my father even tighter. “Think of the way sunlight filters through the leaves of the trees,” I continued. “Birds flying by, singing, the whisper of a cool breeze through the trees. Think of fireflies and bonfires and festivals.”
The voices had quieted in my own mind, forced out by my positive thoughts. I hoped that Dorothy and Calvin were holding their own. Their breathing had slowed, at the very least, and Dorothy wasn’t trembling anymore. Furthermore, wherever we were had lightened up a little bit. I could now see the outline of my father’s hand clasped over mine. Without thinking, I began to hum the first tune that came to mind. “Que Sera, Sera.”
Pure, white light spilled from a long, tall line, almost as though someone had opened a door to a world made of solid sunshine. I surged to my feet, still singing, and dragged Calvin and Dorothy up with me. As the shaft of light widened, I tugged my companions toward it, then shoved my shoulder against what I hoped was an invisible door.
We fell through the passageway, spilling out into the blinding light of the next level. My eyes watered and stung at the sudden change, but I sobbed with relief as the last remaining whispers cut off suddenly. Calvin and Dorothy took longer to recover, both of them spread out on a bed of soft, bright-green grass. When my eyes had adjusted, I saw that we lay on the side of a grassy knoll covered in every hue of wildflower. A bluebird flitted by, singing merrily, and bumblebees hummed amongst the petals around us. So far, it was the most pleasant welcome we had had to an otherworld level, which immediately set my teeth on edge. It was too easy, too pretty and peaceful. Something had to challenge us.
“Indeed, it does,” said a familiar voice, responding to my unspoken worry. The colossal green beast from the forest level had reappeared, ambling over the knoll in no great haste. I was less afraid of it this time, even though I had no idea as to how it had traveled between levels with such ease. The creature obviously had deeper knowledge of the otherworld than Calvin or Dorothy, and its presence no longer alarmed me.
“Do you have another question for me?” I asked the beast, gazing up into its giant emerald eyes.
“I believe,” the beast rumbled, sunlight refracting off of its green scales, “that you have a question for me.”
I leaned down to help Dorothy to her feet. Calvin had managed on his own, brushing damp grass from the knees of his corduroy pants.
“Do I?” I asked, unsure of the beast’s intention.
“Do you?” it responded, somehow managing to paste
an inquiring expression upon its massive, scaled face.
Bewildered, I looked to Calvin and Dorothy, wondering if they had any insight on the beast’s new game. My father shrugged with an apologetic grimace, but Dorothy stepped forward, toward the beast, one hand extended in what appeared to be a welcoming gesture.
“I know you,” she said, reaching out and setting her hand on one of the beast’s massive paws. “I didn’t recognize you in this form. When I saw you last, you were a man.”
The beast smiled, and despite its deadly fangs, the expression seemed genuine. “Indeed, I know all of the wanderers. I am a lord of the otherworld.”
“Lord?” I repeated. I had no idea that the otherworld was ruled by any sort of authority, let alone a herculean, shamrock-colored monster. What had we gotten ourselves into now?
The beast inclined its head in assent. “One of the kinder ones.”
“Then why did you chase after us in the forest level?” my father asked.
“To challenge your bravery,” replied the beast. It lowered itself to the grassy ground, neatly settling onto its paws like an oversized house cat, and winked lazily at me. “Needless to say, you’ve overcome several of my challenges in this world. A spectacular human, indeed.”
Pride swelled in my chest at the beast’s compliment, despite the fact that it had more or less admitted to putting the three of us through hell. The beast gazed at me, almost as if admiring my less-than-impressive appearance. I knew I had to look like crap. My muscles ached, my hair dripped with sweat, and my eyes needed a good, long rest. If the beast wanted a question from me, I was tempted to ask for a safe place to nap, but the thought of Gwenlyn alone in Yew Hollow forced different words from my tongue.
“We seek a weapon,” I informed the beast.
“Ah, your question,” it said, resting its chin between its paws. “Proceed.”
“Do you know where it is?” I asked, clenching my fists in anticipation of the beast’s response. “Or how to get it?”
“I do.”
It proffered no more information, much to my dismay. Beside me, my father shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and I wondered what about the beast unnerved him so. Dorothy, on the other hand, now stroked the side of the beast’s neck, looking positively romanced by the polished texture of its glassy scales.
“Well?” I prompted the beast.
“You only asked if I knew, not to divulge,” the beast said. “Shall I?”
I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Please.”
The beast flipped over onto its back, nearly knocking Dorothy over with a benign swipe of its front paw, and observed me upside down. “It should delight you to know that I am, in fact, in possession of said weapon. Would you like it?”
“Is it that easy?” I asked warily.
“No, of course not.”
My father let out an audible groan, throwing his hands into the air. Unlike Dorothy, he did not seem to possess the patience to deal with the quixotic creature before us. I was just grateful that the beast had not exercised the use of its fangs in our presence yet.
“What do you want for it?” I asked the beast.
“Only one thing.”
“Which is?”
Its great eyes flickered toward my father, who still stood as far away from the beast as possible. “You must leave with me that which you will miss most. Then the weapon is yours.”
“What I’ll miss most?” I questioned. I hadn’t come into the otherworld with any of my own possessions and so had nothing to offer the so-called lord in front of me.
“It means me,” my father said suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the beast grumpily. “You resented me for never being a good father to you, Morgan. Here, we have a second chance at a relationship, and the beast means to strip that from you.”
I faced the beast, glaring up into its large face. “Is that true?”
The beast gave a monstrous equivalent of a shrug, once again disturbing Dorothy at its side. I stepped forward to pull Dorothy away from the beast, just in case it forgot how massive it was. “It does not seem so disastrous a price to pay,” said the beast. “I would treat him well. No harm would befall him. He would remain on this level, which, as you may have noticed, is quite serene.”
I couldn’t argue with the beast on that detail. This level was no more than a pleasant meadow during the height of springtime. The soft grass carried on for miles, and in the distance, I could even see the sparkle of a large, beautiful lake. I glanced at my father, considering my options.
A knowing look emerged on Calvin’s face, and he finally uncrossed his arms to approach me and grasp me by the shoulders. “Morgan,” he said. “You have grown into an incredible young woman. I would expect nothing less of a Summers witch. I’m so proud of you.”
I couldn’t stop tears from springing to my eyes. I already knew what my father was preparing to do.
“You need that weapon,” he said, sweeping me into a hug. “I’ll be fine here. We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”
I wiped my eyes, pulling away to look my father in the face. “I’m going back,” I told him, unable to let him go without saying so. “Dorothy and Gwenlyn are going to figure out a way to get me back to Yew Hollow.”
He smiled, the warmth of his expression stretching to his eyes. “Of course you’re going back. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
And with that, my father gave my shoulder one last comforting squeeze before facing the beast. “All right, you gargantuan gecko,” said Calvin, spreading his arms wide. “Here I am. I agree to stay with you. Now, give my daughter the weapon.”
The beast rolled over again, arched its neck, and gagged.
“Ugh,” said Dorothy, looking repulsed by the beast for the first time since it had presented itself to us. She backed away from the great green creature as it retched again, a gurgle brewing from beyond its long tongue.
With one last convulsion, the beast coughed a small, shiny object into the grass at my feet. Dorothy, Calvin, and I all leaned forward to examine it.
“A pistol?” I asked, crouching down to collect the matte-black handgun from its place amongst the wildflowers. “You expect me to defeat an army of the undead with one little pistol?”
Chapter Five
In Which I Am Reborn
The pistol felt comically light in my hand. There was no denying that it was a beautiful weapon. Its smooth, black exterior was stealthy and handsome, but it seemed far too modern an object to consider it lethal to ghosts. It looked more like the standard piece the cops back in Yew Hollow would carry on their hips, not an ancient, all-powerful destroyer of souls.
I straightened up out of my crouch and brandished the small weapon at the beast. “Really, though? I was hoping for a grenade launcher or something, I don’t know, a little bit more substantial.”
The beast chuckled, a low hum in the back of its throat. “Do not underestimate what you do not know, Morgan Summers,” it said. “That weapon has known several shapes over an interminable period of time. I believe you humans once knew it as the sword in the stone.”
Dorothy nodded knowingly, as if she had already been privy to this bit of information. My father, on the other hand, looked as though he was trying very hard not to seem impressed.
“This was one of King Arthur’s swords?” I repeated doubtfully, turning over the gun in my hand. It was hard to believe that something with such an ordinary appearance had also graced the palms of such legendary heroes. The thought made me want to drop the gun back on the ground, run off over the rolling hills, and dive headfirst into the distant lake, never to surface again. Instead, I tightened my grip on the weapon, resting my index finger on the trigger. I held it up, aiming off into the distance, and peered over the sight.
The matte-black exterior of the gun was interrupted by the sudden appearance of bright blue lettering. It swirled around the barrel of the gun and down the grip until it flowed right over the skin of my hands like
a tattoo the color of a neon sign. As the ancient words snaked their way up my arms, I examined my now-glowing skin in awe.
“It has marked you as a worthy bearer,” said the beast with a nod of approval.
“Is this witchcraft?” I asked. There was no denying that the power of the weapon had somehow seeped its way into my own being. I could feel it, pulsing beneath the surface of my skin.
“It manifests as witchcraft because you are a great witch,” the beast explained.
I pushed the sleeves of my shirt up to see that the lettering had extended up and over my shoulders. For good measure, I checked down the front of my shirt, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of an un-tattooed torso. “Will this go away?” I said, brandishing the new decorations on both arms.
“Perhaps,” the beast said. “It may fade over time. It may remain. I suppose that depends on the clarity of your intention.”
“The clarity—more riddles? I can’t go back to Yew Hollow looking like a glow stick, man,” I said to the beast. “It’s not exactly conducive to stealth missions, you know.”
The beast bowed low to the ground—Calvin jumped aside to allow the massive creature more room—and blew a cool, breezy breath toward me. I felt it wash over me, rustling my hair and raising goose bumps on my skin. The bright tattoos faded a little, still visible but less conspicuous with the beast’s magical effect.
“That’s better, I guess,” I grumbled, pulling down my shirt sleeves to cover as much of the markings as I could.
“Your graciousness humbles me,” the beast said, an air of sarcasm embedded in the words.
There was no telling what the ancient lettering said, and if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t care to know. Once Dominic was gone, I didn’t plan on embarking on any other harebrained adventures with an invincible weapon. In my book, that kind of thing only led to more trouble. With any luck, the handgun would get the job done, and then I could chuck it right back into the otherworld where it belonged.
“What about ammo?” I ejected the magazine from the gun, examining the rounds inside. The bullets seemed normal enough, but like the pistol and now my own skin, they too glowed with neon-blue witchcraft.
Witch Myth Omnibus: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery Page 15