by Ann Charles
“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Cornelius said. “Your voice is higher than normal due to the tension around your solar plexus chakra. Are you experiencing difficulties breathing due to a tightness in your chest? Have you been suffering from bouts of queasiness or diarrhea lately?”
I raised my war hammer in front of his face. “If you say the word chakra one more time before we get out of this place, I’m going to plant this in your Third Eye.”
Behind me, the creature grunted and flailed. I turned to frown at it, my lungs tight with each breath. Stupid clogged-up solar plexus. “I don’t understand what’s going on here,” I said to myself as much as Cornelius.
“You’re looking at it incorrectly,” Cornelius said. “Turn the candle upside down with your mind.”
That didn’t make any sense, but I did it anyway. When I flipped the candle around, I gasped at the thick, medieval-looking spike sticking out through the hunter’s midsection. Black blood trickled down into the fur at its waist.
“Oh, Jesus,” I whispered. “Why is it impaled on that thing?” It almost looked as if it’d been hung purposefully on the massive door, like some twisted version of a brass knocker.
Bait, said a voice in my head.
Wait a second. That wasn’t one of my multiple personalities weighing in. The voice sounded like Doc’s, only crackly, reminding me of a static-filled AM radio station in the middle of nowhere.
“Bait for what?” I asked aloud.
“Violet,” Cornelius said. “If you’re showing off your high cognitive functioning by having random conversations with yourself in the dark, I can assure you now is not the time, nor am I your ideal audience.”
An Executioner. The voice was clearer this time, definitely Doc’s.
He was listening to us in the darkness. Could he see what we were seeing? Were his hands trembling as much as mine?
“But this has to be the leader of the Wild Hunt,” I told Doc. “It’s here at the gate and its clock is still cuckooing.”
“I’m not arguing that fact with you.” Cornelius set the clock down and then grabbed the stick of dynamite that was poking out of the neckline of my coat, frowning at it. “Where did you get this?”
“That’s not important right now.” I grabbed back the stick, stuffing it in my pocket.
“You might want to take care with that stick, Violet, or you won’t be important any more, either.”
I turned my attention to the injured hunter, walking around the side of it with my candle held out to gain a clearer view of the spear jutting up through its chest. “If you are bait,” I said. “Then who is …”
The candle flame went out.
A gush of cold air brushed past my skin, a hint of sulfur in its wake.
Someone was coming.
I heard no footfalls, but my other senses alerted me to its presence by raising the hairs on the back of my neck, shooting tingling sparks through my limbs, and cramping my stomach.
I backed away from the creature, my war hammer raised and ready in the blackness that was so thick I couldn’t see my hands. Where was Cornelius? I tried to hear the sound of him breathing amid the grunts and huffs coming from the impaled hunter.
“Cornelius?” I whispered. “Where are you?”
A whimpering sound came from the hunter.
I resisted the urge to whimper along with it, trying to focus inward and explore the darkness using my other senses.
A yowl of pain rang out.
The huffing stopped.
Then the cuckooing stopped.
My heart might have stopped, too.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
No, it was still ticking even if the clock wasn’t.
I held out the piece of candle again, picturing a flame bigger than the last. A flare ignited at the end of the candle, catching the wick on fire.
I glanced at the hunter. A shriek slipped out before I could cover my mouth. The creature had been gutted from neck to waist. Its body was still twitching on the spike, its innards slowly spilling from its torso. Bile rose in my throat. My stomach heaved.
Come back! Doc’s voice crackled in my head.
I clutched the war hammer to my chest, not sure what to do, where to run, and how to find Cornelius in this shadowy in-between world. I needed Doc’s sight, but our lifeline appeared to be experiencing technical difficulties.
My candle flame went out again, plunging me into darkness.
I fumbled with my candle, dropping it, losing it in the pitch black.
What do I do now, Doc? I thought as I patted my coat pockets for the other piece of candle and pulled it out.
I had to calm down. I could handle this. I just needed to …
I stilled.
Someone was in the dark with me. I couldn’t hear any breathing or feel any air movement or see a single damned thing to confirm it, but I could definitely smell it. There was no mistaking the stench of sulfur.
“Who’s there?” I whispered in the cottony silence.
I pictured the candle flame, bringing it to life, lighting the darkness again. The hunter was still dead, Cornelius was still missing, and I was still up shit creek in the dark world between realms.
Something smacked my hand, sending the candle flying. The flame was doused again.
Son of a motherfucker!
Now I was getting pissed. A steely reserve chased away my flutters of fear. Anger fueled my actions.
I searched my coat pockets again, this time for the lighter I’d grabbed at Aunt Zoe’s. “Quit playing childish games and show yourself,” I told whatever was messing with me, palming the tube filled with lighter fluid. “Or are you too chicken shit?”
Deep laughter rippled through the silence, twisting around me. “Your bravado is admirable, Scharfrichter, yet foolish.”
I knew that voice! A wave of dizziness made me wobble in the dark. I staggered several steps back. Not him. Please, not him.
Bracing myself, I raised Aunt Zoe’s lighter and flicked the flame to life with my thumb instead of my mind.
A superstar from my recurring nightmares leaned against the huge door next to the dead hunter.
“Wolfgang?” I croaked, but the voice didn’t match the man.
Not real. Doc’s voice was back, although not clear.
I stood taller knowing the Oracle was listening.
Wolfgang looked like the real deal to me, from his blond locks and deep blue eyes to his strong chin and broad shoulders.
A chameleon, Doc told me.
That explained the wrong voice for Wolfgang’s face.
“Why are you here?” I asked, scanning the darkness for a sign of Cornelius. I hoped to hell he was hiding somewhere safe, because I had a feeling I was already up to my neck in quicksand here. Making it out of the dark alive was becoming less promising by the second.
“We have unfinished business.”
My brain’s voice recognition locked onto the chameleon’s true identity: Kyrkozz. I stifled a groan. Damn, I’d rather have faced off with the hunter’s spiky teeth.
“I’m pretty sure we took care of everything last time, Kyrkozz, before you peeled off your face and spit all over me.” I purposely spoke his name so that Doc could hear it.
“You remember me.”
That horrific scene had replayed in my dreams too many times to count. “You’re hard to forget with your pretty orange eyes and twisty little horns, not to mention those lovely oozing pustules all over your skin. What’s with the fleshy costume? Did you think I couldn’t handle seeing your handsome mug again?”
He snickered. “So spirited.”
It had been too much to hope I’d never run into this asshole again. “Why did you summon me, demon?”
“One cannot summon a Scharfrichter. I merely sent you an invitation to talk.”
“So talk.”
“I gave you an order before that you have disobeyed.”
“What order? Remind me. My memory is short.”
>
“I told you to leave this place, but you have returned to the dark time again.”
“I’ve always struggled with following directions,” I told him. “What did you do with my friend who was in here with me?”
“I did nothing. He opted to leave and I allowed it. The invitation was not meant for him.”
Invitation my ass. Kyrkozz had baited me. Doc had been right all along. There’d be no living with him if I made it out of this mess alive.
“Well, you have me here, so now what?”
“You continue to interfere with my plans, Scharfrichter.”
Which plans were those? Back in August, Lila Beaumont had wanted to use my womb as fertile ground for Kyrkozz’s demon child seed. Was he still searching for a surrogate momma? Or did he have new plans for something even more sinister?
His chin lowered, his menacing smile sending chills up my arms. Why had I ever thought of Wolfgang as handsome?
“Since you did not heed my warning, you will die. After I remove your limbs one at a time,” he said, “I am going to remove your head and mount it on a spike as a lesson for others. Disobedience will not be tolerated anymore.”
Blind him, Violet! Doc spoke through the static, startling me.
Blind him with what? Aunt Zoe’s lighter? My pathetic mental flame? My dim wit?
I lifted my chin in the face of his threat, donning a false bravado as I tried to figure a way out of the demon’s trap. “Maybe I’ll mount your head on a spike to teach the others like you what happens when you piss off an Executioner.”
His laughter sounded hard and brittle. “You think that silly weapon in your hands can defeat me?”
“This?” I held up the war hammer. “Probably not.” But I’d sure enjoy taking a few swings at him. The son of a bitch had haunted my nightmares for months. I was pretty certain that sinking the pointed end of my war hammer in Krykozz’s forehead would be considered beneficial sleep therapy.
“You are weak, Scharfrichter. I can crush you. Your weapons are of no use to you in the darkness.”
He was right. In the dark I was swinging blindly. I thought back to the day Cornelius and I sat up next to Wild Bill Hickok’s grave in Mount Moriah cemetery and I first learned how to reach out in the darkness. That day I’d torn out something’s tongue using my mind’s eye alone.
My memory shifted to my last conversation with Prudence. What had she said about hiding my strengths? Something about distracting my enemy with my weaknesses instead.
Switching Aunt Zoe’s lighter to my left hand, I swung my war hammer a couple of times in mid-air with my right, warming up my arm. “I don’t know, Kyrkozz. My war hammer sure feels like it would pierce that fake outer shell you’re wearing. How about we find out if I’m right?”
Violet, don’t! Doc shouted.
“You cannot be serious, Scharfrichter.”
“I don’t joke with demons or clowns.” I’d had my limit of both.
“I can rip you apart with my bare hands,” he bragged.
“You talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?”
… must blind him … Doc’s voice wavered. … too strong for you …
Blind him how, dammit? It wasn’t like I had a lighthouse beacon in my pocket. I should’ve taken one of the flashlights from …
Oh, duh!
I held tight to Aunt Zoe’s lighter. I’d get one chance at this.
“What say you?” I asked the demon. “Shall we dance in the dark?”
Before he could answer, I threw my war hammer at him. It spun through the air end over end.
He caught it in mid-air next to his head. He took it in both hands and broke it in half as if it were no more than a toothpick. “Surely you feel foolish now.”
“Hand-to-hand combat it is,” I said, bending to the side and reaching my right hand high in the air.
“What are you doing, Scharfrichter?”
“Stretching. Unlike you, I’m part human.” I pulled my shoulders back, and then reached behind me. “I don’t want to get a cramp while I’m kicking your ass.” I bent down and touched my toes, the stick of dynamite that had been in my pocket now in my right hand.
“This is absurd,” Kyrkozz said. “Your weapons are worthless against me. What makes you think you can defeat me with nothing more than your hands?”
“I’m optimistic that way.”
Tired of talking, I stood up and threw the stick of dynamite at him, same as I had my war hammer, end-over-end.
He caught it with ease, holding it in front of his face. “What is this game you’re playing?”
“It’s called ‘Hot Potato.’ “ I focused on the dynamite in his hand, picturing a blue flame, big and bright, in place of the fuse. “And I just stopped the music, so you lose.”
I turned to run, but I’d made the flame too intense. An explosion flashed bright white, blinding. The shock wave sent me tumbling through the blackness. When I finally stopped, I was flat on my back in the dark abyss, the ringing in my ears deafening.
I lay there, disoriented, wondering if Kyrkozz would come for me. I doubted I’d killed him. Nasty sons of bitches like him didn’t die that easily. Where was I, anyway? Being in the dark made it impossible to know how screwed I was. Would I ever find my way back? Would I die here in the dark alone? I felt my gut tightening and thought of my so-called solar plexus blockage, which led to wondering about Cornelius. Where had he gone? Had Kyrkozz done something to him? Had I doomed him to stay here in the dark, too?
A flutter of panic made me twitch, but I forced myself to lie still and let my body relax, focusing on my breathing. Now was as good a time as any to clear my clogged chakras. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. All I could do was … Someone pinched my arm.
Ouch!
I sat up. Who did that?
Another pinch. This time harder.
I rubbed my arm. What the hell?
I realized I was still clutching Aunt Zoe’s lighter. I held it up. The flame flickered, lighting the area around me. I was sitting in a small, empty square room. I looked at the ceiling, focusing on the crown molding, noticing the excellent craftsmanship in the corner joints. I knew this place.
Something nipped my earlobe.
I winced, touching it. The skin was hot. Pinches and ear nips—those were my revival techniques.
“Doc?” Where was he? I stood, looking around. The door was behind me, the board Doc had used to block it still in place. I kicked the piece of wood aside and turned the knob.
Out in the hall, the lighter’s flame flickered, shrinking. I started toward the stairs, but the lighter died when I hit the first step. I stumbled in the darkness, my arms flailing as I fell forward.
A hand caught my arm, yanking me backward. I hit the floor hard, coughing in the dust.
“Violet.” This time, Doc’s voice sounded crystal clear. “Open your eyes.”
I lifted one eyelid, fearing I was still stuck in the in-between place. That he was only a dream in the dark.
Doc stared down at me. “Both eyes, Killer.”
I opened the other eyelid, blinking a couple of times. My hand shook when I reached up and touched his cheek. His beard stubble scraped under my fingertips. “Am I back?”
“Just barely.” He captured my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. Did you bite my ear?”
His eyes crinkled. “A little. It’s a wake-up trick I learned from a hot blonde with a wicked pinch.”
“You sounded so far away. How did you find me?”
“The mushroom cloud was hard to miss.” He scowled. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
“You told me to blind him.”
“I meant with your candle flame, not a damned stick of dynamite. Christ, woman. You’re going to turn my hair white if you keep charging hell with buckets of water.”
I grinned. “Quit yer caterwaulin’ and give me some sugar, Oracle.”
He leaned over me, his gaze b
urning into mine. “When that explosion rang out, I thought I’d lost you in there for good, cara mia.”
“Ah, mon cher. Don’t torture yourself so.” I framed his face, pulling him closer. “That’s my job.”
His focus dipped to my lips. “Damn, Tish,” he whispered and kissed me, his mouth tender, his touch warming away the last of my chills. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him. My heart overflowed, making a mess all over the place.
He groaned deep in his chest and then pulled away. “We’re going to bookmark this and come back to it soon, Boots.”
He helped me sit upright.
“We have to go back into the dark,” I said. “I lost Cornelius.”
“No, you didn’t. I had to drag him out early. One of the chimeras had sniffed out our hiding spot. I needed Cornelius to keep it busy while I tried to find you and bring you home.”
“You left Cornelius alone with one of those sharp-toothed predators?” I scrambled to my feet, swaying for a second.
Doc made sure I was steady before letting go of my shoulders. “He said he could handle the chimera, mentioned something about having recently flushed out his Third Eye. He took the crowbar with him.” Doc looked down at my hands. “Where’s your war hammer?”
“I sort of lost it.”
“Not again.”
“Yeah.” I grimaced. “I don’t think I’ll get it back this time.”
“What about the clock?” he asked.
“I forgot it in the dark.” I doubted there was much of it left after that blast.
A war cry resonated up the stairwell.
Doc beat me down the stairs.
We found Cornelius in a room in the corner of the building—an old kitchen with a cast iron stove in the corner. On the floor at his feet lay a chimera larger than any of those I’d battled by the old Plymouth, the crowbar buried in its neck. Black blood pooled around its head, reminding me of the impaled hunter at the gate that Kyrkozz had used as bait. I shivered, looking up at Cornelius who was wiping off his jacket with a handkerchief. His Viking helmet lay on the floor next to the dead creature.
“How did you …” I trailed off. Apparently, there was a lot more to Cornelius than hairy knees and a crooked smile.