by Smith, H. D.
I eyed the sheriff. “So I better be breathing when He finds me.”
“Who the hell are you talking about?” the sheriff blurted.
I chuckled.
The postman sneered at the sheriff. “She means the Demon King. The Devil. This is a phone from Hell—the real one.”
“Oh, shit.”
Taunting the sheriff, I raised and lowered my right eyebrow. His eyes were wide. Good. Now he understood what he was dealing with.
“If she belongs to Him,” he whined. “We’re screwed. He’ll kill us all when he comes for her.”
“She’s lying,” the postman scoffed. “This phone doesn’t work here. He didn’t create this place—another did, one of his own. He won’t come for her.”
“If you say so,” I said smugly. There was no reason to let him know he was right, and not just for the reasons he listed. “Do you really think the Demon King uses GPS to keep track of me? You can’t take these.” I held out my right arm. I expected the mark to show itself, as it had when Wylan James asked for proof. It didn’t appear.
The postman snorted. “What? Did Daddy lose the end of your leash?”
“He’s not my father,” I snapped.
Still smiling, he said, “We don’t need to eat or drink here to survive. This is the nothing of nowhere, and you can sit in that cell and rot for eternity for all I care, but you’re not getting out of here.” He threw the phone into my bag. His gaze dropped to my watch. “I told you to take everything,” he snapped at the sheriff.
The sheriff bristled. “I couldn’t get the watch off. I tried while she was unconscious. The damn thing shocked me twice.”
“Take it off,” the postman said to me.
“I’d love to. Tell me how and it’s yours.”
His eyebrows rose a fraction. Looking at the sheriff, he said, “Don’t open this cell for any reason. You got me?”
The sheriff stared, slack-jawed. “Wasn’t planning to.”
The postman glared at him and walked out. I heard a thump like my bag hitting the top of a wooden desk, before the bell from the door clanged.
The sheriff put his hand back on his gun. “Just you and me now.”
I shrugged and leaned back against the bars. “Your boss might be right. The Demon King may not be able to find me here, but how difficult do you think it will be once you’ve sent me to the real Hell with that revolver?”
The sheriff snorted as if my threat was empty then returned to the main room.
My head hurt. I reached back and touched the lump. I’d kill for some Tylenol. I wasn’t sure how I’d get out of the cell, but I refused to sit and do nothing. I closed my eyes and stepped outside my body. The transition was getting easier. It didn’t hurt as much this time.
I thought about the crossroads and blinked my presence to the four-way stop.
I listened for the music. After a few seconds, I caught the ice cream truck melody. I followed the song. It grew louder as I passed the small church at the corner of the town square. The music led me toward the railroad tracks. I continued until the notes dropped away and I stared at a brick wall.
What just happened?
I was back in the alley, the one I’d arrived at after walking through the threshold in the dead town.
Frustrated, I tried again, but again hit the wall.
The demon was right. There was no exit. I’d attempted every logical path that led out of town. They all dumped me into the alley. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t even my body that was getting dropped at square one—it was my presence.
Was any of it real?
I opened my eyes, hauling my presence to my body. The dizziness wasn’t as bad this time. I recovered quickly, but my head seemed to hurt more. Great, either it was a side effect of my new ability or my presence didn’t feel the pain of the blow to my head when I was outside my body.
I guess it didn’t really matter. I stretched out on the cot to rest.
~ * ~
I woke to the faint echo of a ringing bell jarring me from my nap. My headache was better, but the lump still throbbed. I sat up on the cot.
“Sheriff,” I called, but there was no answer.
I closed my eyes and popped my presence into the other room. Empty. The sheriff was gone. I opened my eyes.
A bright line of sunlight was now three-quarters up the wall. The sun was setting. Had time really passed? The watch hands were still spinning. I sighed in disgust. I’d forgotten the one thing I could never lose was now useless.
I was about to look away when the hands slowed and stopped at twelve o’clock. Then the big hand pointed toward the back of the cells, from the front room. I raised one of my eyebrows. Unbelievable.
“I need a way out of the cell, not a compass.” I sighed, dropping my hand. I was talking to my watch.
The watch started vibrating. When I looked, the hands were back at midnight. My stomach twisted and turned as a burst of energy pulsed from the watch. Weird. The vibrations increased, and the watch emitted a high-pitched whine. The sickness rolling in my gut was followed by another short burst of energy. The vibrations increased, and the whine soared in volume.
Wincing, I gripped my side just before the third wave pulsed. Every time it happened, the pain, vibrations, and whine increased. By the fourth, I was bent double and the whine had escalated to the point it went silent.
The cell’s bars rattled and shook.
I wailed as the fifth pulse slammed into the room with enough force to knock the door off its hinges—literally. The door clanged loudly as it hit the floor.
I didn’t move, paralyzed by what just happened. The pain was fading, but not gone. The watch was spinning again, making me grimace from the pain it caused my red and raw wrist.
A noise from outside snapped me to attention.
It was time to move.
I stood, groaning from the dig at my side and rushed out to the front room. Grabbing up my bag, I slung it over my head. My shoes had been stuffed inside with the phone and my wallet. I dropped the shoes on the floor and jammed my feet into them. Reaching for the doorknob, I hissed when the sudden movement reminded me of my raw wrist. I checked the watch. The hands still spun. I concentrated on the face. Like before, a second later the spinning stopped, and the big hand pointed to seven.
“What? Are these directions?” I asked, then rolled my eyes at how crazy that sounded.
The big hand circled once and stopped on seven. Now I was sure I was crazy because I think the watch just answered me. I moved my wrist. Like a compass, the big hand continued to point behind me. It was a watch that could rattle metal hinges until they disintegrated.
I looked back at the cell. Before I could decide if I trusted it, the sheriff’s voice outside propelled me into action. “Okay, you win,” I said to the watch. “Get me out of here.”
The watch continued to point to the back. I found a door at the end of the hall beside the cells. It led to an alley behind the jail. When I emerged, the sky was almost dark, but the moon was full and cast an eerie pale light over everything.
I glanced at the watch and followed the big hand, which pointed to the right. I kept an eye on the watch as I ran through back alleys and side streets, trying not to get spotted. All my careful dodging was almost ruined when I slammed into a man as I veered on to a blind alley. We both wound up sprawled on the ground.
Scrambling to my feet, I reached out to help the stranger. A shock of static energy passed between us as I took his hand. “Sorry,” I said.
At the same time, his arm went limp, his eyes closed, and he crashed to the ground. A moment later he opened his eyes, his expression confused. When I reached a second time to help him, he cringed away. I guess he didn’t want to be shocked again.
“Where the hell am I?” he wailed.
Okay, I wasn’t expecting a newbie. Was he not spelled to believe he was part of this crazy town?
I heard voices. They were getting closer. I had taken a step to flee just as the st
ranger clasped my wrist.
“Where am I?” His eyes were wide with fear.
“I don’t know either.” I wrenched my arm away. “Follow me if you want out.”
I took off. I had no idea if the guy was behind me or not. I could hear the sheriff barking orders nearby. I reached the end of a side street—right across from the alley I kept being dumped in. Why was it leading me there?
Before I had time to think, someone hollered, “Sheriff! There she is.”
I didn’t try to see who shouted. I ran, full speed, across the street to the alley. I glanced down one more time to make sure the watch was pointing straight ahead, then closed my eyes and headed for the wall. It was freedom or Hell, Montana forever.
I braced myself to hit the wall, but I passed through as if it wasn’t there—as if the wall had been an illusion. I passed back through the threshold as easily as I had the first time.
The quiet of the dead town was back until a man’s earsplitting wail went off beside me. I opened my eyes and found myself at the farmhouse where it all started. The man I’d run into was now lying on the ground beside me writhing in pain.
“Are you okay?” I asked, but clearly he wasn’t.
His eyes were vacant.
I gasped in horror as he began to age. His skin sagged with lines, and his cheeks became hollowed and sunken. Rapidly, he was changing from a young man in his thirties to an old man—wrinkled by age. He panted then his hips bucked off the ground as his body convulsed and spasmed.
“Thank you,” he whispered through contorted wails.
“For what?”
“Waking me.” He cried out and clutched his chest. His body went rigid, then limp.
Cautiously, I touched the side of his neck. He was warm, but there was no pulse.
Dead.
I stood. What had he meant? What did I wake him from? The demon’s spell? The Whammy? The demon said nothing ever changed, but clearly time had not stopped. It was just waiting for them to leave.
I jumped when the high-pitched sound of the ice cream truck barreled toward me. Was that the exit? The other direction hadn’t worked.
I ran after the truck. It was moving faster than I could run, but I kept trying to keep it in sight. I rounded the corner, following the truck around the turn. I was losing ground. It was at least a half-mile ahead of me now.
“No,” I screamed as it disappeared, but I didn’t stop running.
I headed toward the spot where the truck disappeared. Maybe it was a portal—a way out. Something. As I drew closer, a force pulled me in.
Please don’t drop me back in Hell, Montana.
Eight
The trip back took only seconds. I was drawn through and propelled out the other side of the hedge.
“Yes!” I jumped into the air, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth.
I waited a minute to make sure I wasn’t heard. I breathed a sigh of relief when no one came bursting around the corner.
I brushed myself off and took out my phone. Mentally crossing my fingers, I hit the power button. A minute later the home screen appeared. The battery indicator flashed yellow, but at least it was working. Breathing a sigh of relief, I powered off the phone to save the battery and dropped it back into my bag.
Someone cackled, drawing my attention back to the hedge. The chortle had come from the other side. I took a few steps back, looking in both directions. Crap. The hedge appeared endless. Tilting my head up, I frowned. Climbing over the thirty-plus-foot hedge wasn’t going to happen, and I sure as hell wasn’t walking back through it. There had to be a way around.
Another burst of laughter pierced the silence. I had to find a way around that didn’t involve going through the hedge, which might drop me back into Hell, Montana—no thank you. I would have said it was impossible to cross the thick, gnarled foliage if I hadn’t just done it, but there was no way I’d risk another chance to be stuck in that trap. Using my new ability, I closed my eyes and stepped outside my body. I barely felt anything as I transitioned to my disembodied form.
I thought of the other side, the side I’d originally been pushed through the hedge from, and blinked there.
A harem of drunken maidens was dancing and lounging around as a band of minstrels played music for Charles’s court. Expensive oriental carpets and huge fluffy pillows were strewn under a large awning. He sat high above the melee on an elaborate gilded throne. The scowl on his face was unbecoming. He lifted his chin, putting his nose high in the air. As a maiden dared touch him, he jerked his hand away, throwing her off.
She didn’t seem to mind. The same way Cinnamon hadn’t minded earlier. Were they all under his spell?
My eyes widened as I recognized the woman. Cinnamon. She twirled around as if she were high. Her blonde hair was pulled up into an almost comical style—a massive beehive of curls and flowers—and she was wearing a toga.
I focused on Cinnamon and blinked my presence closer to her location. She was making a fool of herself, but clearly didn’t seem to mind. His spell was strong, but how did she let herself get trapped? And how was he keeping her under his spell?
I spotted the demon woman, who’d helped Cinnamon into the house earlier, heading toward Charles. I studied her. Her long dark hair was down, but the indigo streak was still prominent among the ebony waves. Her sundress was gone. She wore black pants and a casual cotton top.
“Is the girl still with us?” she asked.
Charles narrowed his eyes. “Why do you wish to know?”
Indigo lowered her head. “I was just curious if I should expect another at dinner tonight.”
He snorted. “No, she’s already left.”
“Very well. I’ll be in town for a few hours. I’ll return before dinner.”
“You may go.” He waved his hand, shooing her away.
Indigo left the courtyard. Did she believe Charles? If not, would she call The Boss? Probably not. She had to know Charles was manipulating Cinnamon. She was clearly helping to keep Cinnamon here. The Boss wouldn’t appreciate her role; therefore, she wouldn’t draw attention to herself by telling him about me, but then why had she asked?
I tried again to place her. Given my role, she had to know who I was from the office—unless she didn’t know me at all. Could she be working for the double?
Were the quads next on my double’s hit list?
Was this why Omar told me to visit them?
To save them?
Cinnamon’s peal of laughter drew my attention. She needed my help either way.
I headed back toward the hedge. I scanned the foliage and found an opening about twenty meters down from where I’d been shoved through earlier.
I opened my eyes and drew back into my body. I reached out my hand to steady myself, but the sensation was barely noticeable this time.
I eyed the watch, but my handy compass wasn’t moving. “Let’s go,” I said.
Staring at the unmoving hands, I considered what had made it work before. Nothing, it just started giving directions in the cell. No. It first went crazy on the road.
“Which way,” I said, remembering the command I’d unknowingly given it before.
The watch hands spun. I focused my eyes, zeroing in on the hands, which stopped and pointed right. I walked until the hand moved left. The hedge in front of me appeared as thick and gnarled as the rest, but if the watch was directing me forward, there had to be something there. Maybe it was a hidden door, like the brick wall to Cinnamon’s compound.
I stretched out my hand and walked forward. I expected to run into the hedge or pass through a threshold, but I didn’t. There wasn’t anything there except a small corridor between two identical hedge walls. The thickly gnarled hedge was only an optical illusion. No magic needed.
I followed the watch’s directions until I reached the opening on the other side. I cautiously approached the exit, but wanted to scream when Cinnamon called my name.
She’d spotted me and wasted no time announcing my
presence to the others. “Claire, darling,” she squealed. “What are you doing here?”
When I looked at Charles, his eyes were wide. He stepped from his throne and stalked toward me. He barreled past Cinnamon, who was tripping over herself to reach me.
She recovered from being shoved. “Oh, Charles, this is my father’s assistant, Claire.”
I moved away from the hedge. I didn’t want him to throw me back in.
“Yes, we met earlier today,” he said dryly.
Earlier today. I must not have been in the Maze as long as I thought. I stiffened when Charles stopped in front of me given that he was close enough to touch me. I lurched back. He inched forward. I took another step and slammed into one of the sentries.
Charles was inches from my face. He smelled of sweet lilac and eucalyptus. The compulsion was stronger now. It was so thick around me I could barely breathe. I was afraid to willingly touch him. The power he had over Cinnamon appeared to intensify when she touched him.
He smiled at my reluctance to push him away. “I’m not sure how you made it out of the maze, but you can’t resist me forever.” He leaned in.
His power crashed against me, as if the spell were a physical force. “Back the fuck off jackass, I’m not going to touch you.”
“Are you sure about that?” He licked his lips, parting them as if he might try to kiss me. He was arrogant and cocky and nothing like the kind of man Cinnamon dated.
I swallowed, pressing against the guard at my back. A second later Cinnamon not so gracefully snorted and clumsily toppled into Charles.
He stumbled, shoving me at the sentry. Furious, Charles snarled and pushed himself away. His touch sent a surge of power crashing over my entire body. It shot through me like a bolt of lightning, and I howled at the jolt of pain.
In the time it took to blink, the spell wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket. As it took hold, pain became love. I loved Charles. I’d die if I couldn’t have him. I stretched out my hand to stroke down his long luscious body, but he spun toward Cinnamon—ignoring me.
My eyes widened with outrage. That bitch couldn’t have him. He was mine. I lunged forward ready to attack. I stopped when a sharp pain bent me double as the spell unraveled, taking the agony as it fell away.