by Meg Benjamin
Was it Evan? She couldn’t tell. The shadows concealed the details. The demon? In a new vessel? It was possible. And who knew if Bradford’s minions were human or not?
She pulled the gun from her waistband. Not that she could do much with it, but at least she had the element of surprise on her side. Sort of.
She inched toward him.
***
Evan stared at the room in front of him. A ballroom or possibly a gymnasium. Something very large, anyway. The walls loomed up beside him. Dim moonlight shone from overhead, a skylight somewhere. If he squinted toward the other side, he thought he could see a dim outline.
A door. It looked partially open, faint light shining around the edges. But did it lead toward Rose or away from her?
Helen would know. He felt a quick pang, which he ruthlessly suppressed. He was on his own. No use wishing for something when he couldn’t do anything about it.
He took a tentative step into the room, holding his flashlight high. Not that it did much good—sort of like lighting a match inside a coal mine. Gray darkness stretched away from him on all sides—the dim skylight far overhead, the glimmering light on the other side of the room even farther away than it had been before.
The floor beneath his feet felt different somehow, more like crumbling stone. He brought the flashlight down so that he could see. An immense tiled mosaic spread away from him. The bits that he could see seemed simultaneously familiar and strange, a circular shape with lines radiating from the center. Some of the tiles had broken loose, leaving holes in the picture.
There was a sudden crunching sound behind him, and Evan whirled.
***
As Rose stepped forward she realized the floor had become unstable. Her foot slipped in the middle of a step, sending her sprawling.
The man came at her, his body still silhouetted against the darkness. But even as Rose fell, she realized there was something familiar about that shape, that stride.
Relief began to warm her chest, but she was almost afraid to trust it. “Evan?”
The man froze, then raised his flashlight so that she could finally see his face. Evan squinted. “Rose? Is that you?”
“Yes.” She pushed herself to her elbows.
“Here, hold this.” Evan handed her a stick of some kind, then took hold of her other hand, pulling her up. They stared at each other for a moment, then he stepped forward and caught her in a rib-crushing embrace.
“Rosie, where have you been?” he murmured, his face pressed against her hair. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You disappeared in that living room.”
“Actually, you’re the one who disappeared.” She snuggled into the shelter of his arms, rubbing her face against his chest. “And then I found Bradford.”
He pulled back so that he was looking at her face. “You did? What did he say?”
“Not much. He was dead. In fact, he looked like he’d been dead for a while.”
“Holy shit.” Evan shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means the demon is loose, maybe vessel surfing. It means there are probably some dangerous things around here.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I’ve already met some of them.”
She waited for him to go on, but he looked away. “Where are we, exactly? Have you found any way out of here?”
He held the flashlight up again. “Here is some room that’s been created for our amusement. Or our confusion. The demon’s got some kind of illusion going—it’s like a supernatural fun house. Out is maybe over there on the far side, although that might be an illusion, too.”
He gestured toward the far end of the room where she could just make out a dim square outlined against the darkness.
“A door?”
“Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. Somehow the demon’s gotten access to my dreams. Elements from them keep showing up here.”
Rose grimaced. “Terrific. Well, at least as far as I can tell, he hasn’t managed to tap into mine yet.”
He hugged her close again. The warmth from his body spread through her chilled skin. “Christ, I’m glad to see you. It felt like we’d been looking for you for hours.”
“We? I forgot. Where’s Helen? And Lenore?”
He stood still for a moment, staring off into the darkness, then turned back to her, his eyes somber. “They didn’t make it, Rose. He killed them. I’m sorry.”
Tears pricked her eyelids. Ridiculous. They weren’t real animals, after all. And they were just visiting. “What happened?”
“We ran into trouble. Booby traps that were supposed to take me out. The two of them saved me. They were warriors,” he said slowly.
Her temples began to throb. “Are we going to have to fight our way out?”
“Maybe. We need to keep going. For now, let’s just see if we can get across this room.” He glanced down at her hand. “What’s that?”
Belatedly, she remembered the gun. “I found it—one of Grandma Caroline’s gifts, I guess. Don’t know if it works or not. What’s this?” She handed him back the stick.
“A walking stick. Another gift.”
The corners of her mouth inched up. “So you get to do a Volksmarch and I get to be Annie Oakley?”
He gave her a dry smile. “Apparently. Why don’t you put that thing away, so we can try to get out of here?”
She tucked the gun in her waistband again as he took back his walking stick, then turned toward the distant door. Evan held the flashlight high enough so that they could see the floor ahead of them. Slowly they began to move toward the light.
***
Rose put a hand on his arm, moving cautiously across the cracked tile. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Her very full, cherry-red lower lip. He was sort of surprised that he could see her that well in the dim light. He’d forgotten just how luscious those lips were.
Evan felt a jolt of heat. Terrific. Wonderful time to get a boner.
She loosened her grip marginally, following him as he found a path across the cracked mosaic. “Is it just me or is it getting lighter in here?”
He handed her the flashlight and peered ahead. In front of them, the darkness had dimmed to pale gray. “It’s definitely lighter than it was. I think we still need the light, though.”
“What is this a picture of?” She glanced down at the scattered tiles on the floor. “It’s huge.”
He shook his head, holding the flashlight high again so they could see more of the floor. “It’s pretty broken up, but the pattern looks familiar. Sort of.”
Rose squinted into the distance as they moved over the tiles. “I can’t see enough of it to make the whole thing out. Just a circle with some lines in the middle. What does that mean?”
“You think it’s important?”
“Probably not. Just another thing that doesn’t make sense. This room is in really lousy shape, you know?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Up to now the place has been sort of your basic haunted mansion. Now it’s more like a ruin. I don’t know if that’s significant or not.”
“Me neither.” She glanced around the room again, then caught her breath. “I know what it is. The picture, I mean. I can see it now.” She pointed a few feet ahead of them. “That’s the center.”
“The center of what?” He kept moving while he spoke—he had a feeling it wasn’t a good idea to slow down. The light from overhead had turned to silver now.
“The web.” Her voice rose in excitement. “It’s a spiderweb. Look. There’s the center and the threads move out from it.” She drew lines in the air with her index finger.
He stopped, feeling ice slide down his backbone. “Spiderweb?”
“Yes. See?” She pointed again.
He followed the line of her finger. Yes. A fan of threads stretched out from a spiraled center a few f
eet ahead of them. Unquestionably, inescapably, it was a mosaic of a spiderweb.
She turned, pointing back to where they’d just come from. “See? It stretches all the way back to the far side.”
Evan wasn’t listening. He’d just seen a shadow move across the lighted door.
A very large shadow.
“Rose, listen to me.” He grabbed her shoulders. “If you hear someone—or something—call your name, don’t look at it, okay?”
“Don’t look back?”
“Or forward or sideways. Just don’t look at anyone who calls you, whoever it is. Period.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay. Is there any particular reason I need to be reminded about this right now?”
“God, I hope not.” He turned off the flashlight and tucked it into his belt—the room seemed bright enough now without it. And he had a feeling he might need both hands soon.
He heard a sound then, a faint tapping, growing slowly into a clicking, like a cricket. Or a deathwatch beetle.
Cut it out! He moved toward the door, towing Rose by the arm, although he was no longer sure they’d be able to get through it. He knew what lay behind them, though, and going back didn’t seem like an option, either.
“Evan,” she whispered. “There’s something in the doorway.”
“I know.” He swallowed hard. “Whatever’s there, we’ll have to get by it. Or go through it. Keep hanging onto me, Rosie.”
“Right.” Her voice sounded small in the immense space of the room that echoed now with clicking.
“Rosssse,” something whispered suddenly, a dry echoing voice that seemed part of the clicking and yet distinct from it. Evan stopped, frozen.
“Did you hear that?” she gasped.
He nodded, then took hold of her shoulders and turned her around so that her back was to the door. He stepped in front of her, back-to-back, lacing the fingers of one hand through hers, holding the walking stick in his other. “Stay like this. Don’t turn around no matter what happens. No matter what, Rose!”
“Okay,” she whispered, her voice suddenly small.
He fastened his gaze on the doorway, although he already knew what would be coming through it. He had one last dream monster to confront, the worst one, the one that always left him sweaty and gasping after its visits. The one he’d really hoped they wouldn’t meet here.
Vain hope!
One long, heavily furred leg stretched through the open door, striped bright red and black. Then another followed, a third, a fourth, and the body came as well, so that he could see the whole thing. The nightmare.
The spider was a dead ringer for Augie Garcia’s tarantula. Elongated bulbous body, heavy with brownish fuzz, angled legs, a corona of eyes gleaming on the front of what passed for its face. Like all the other animals in the dungeon, it was several times as big as it had been in his dreams. Its legs were bulging furry fence posts, supporting a body the size of a sofa. Its eyes glowed with green light.
Evan stood rigid. His breath caught in his throat as his stomach heaved. He grasped Rose’s fingers convulsively in one hand, fighting down the overwhelming urge to run, while his fingers tightened on his stick.
His stick. Damn. He should have taken Rose’s gun. On the other hand, judging from the size of the spider, he doubted a gun would slow it down.
“What is it?” she asked, her head moving restlessly against his shoulders.
“An illusion. Just like the others. The demon’s game.” Yeah, Evan, keep saying that. Convince yourself that it won’t jump on you like a housefly.
He closed his eyes and opened them again on the off chance that the spider might disappear. It didn’t.
“Run,” the spider hissed. “Run now!”
He shook his head, stiffly. “Helen and Lenore didn’t run. Neither will I.” Even if he ended up the same way they had.
“Asss you wissssh,” the spider hissed again.
It moved toward them with its odd, scuttling spider gait, eight legs working in mysterious concert. He fought the impulse to close his eyes again. He had to watch, to see where it went. It stopped a few feet away from him, then raised its two front legs. The legs ended in hooks, he realized—sharp upturned hooks.
Its mouth opened. He could see the fangs—long and pointed, designed to inject venom. “Don’t turn around, Rosie. No matter what happens.”
The spider’s mouth opened wider. “Rose,” it called, “Rosie. Thank God, I found you!”
Evan blinked. His voice. The spider was using his voice. It sounded exactly like him.
“Evan?” Rose gasped.
“What are you doing with him? Rosie, that’s the demon. He’s holding onto you. Rosie, he wants to kill you! He took my shape back in the hall. Drop his hands—get away from him while you can! Run to me. I’ll protect you.”
Evan felt Rose’s head roll against his shoulders again. “No,” he snapped. “Don’t fall for this. He’s trying to get you to look at him. It’s all a trick.” He tightened his fingers on hers.
“You don’t buy that, do you, Rose? That calling-ghost crap? Come on, it’s just a trap to get you to come with him, so that he can take you away. He wants you dead.” The spider’s eyes glittered.
One of the spider’s front legs slid closer. Evan could see the stiff black hairs on the side, the brutally efficient hook at the tip. He had a sudden graphic image of what that hook could do if it plunged into his body.
He shuddered, then took another deep breath. “The demon used the calling ghost on Brenda. And on Alana. And he tried to use it on your mom. Skag told me he recognized the method when you described the way Brenda died.”
The hook moved slowly around his feet, drawing thin lines in the dust. Evan stayed very still. He could swear the spider had grinned at him.
“Rose can you picture me talking to this Skag?” the spider implored. His voice echoed obscenely in the vastness of the room. “I don’t believe in that stuff. You know that. But I’m willing to try for your sake. I’m only here because of you. Because I care about you. Because I need you, Rose.”
The spider’s voice had a slight quaver, as if he were struggling with strong emotion. Its fangs gleamed.
“The SOB is right about that. I do need you, Rosie. We both do. But I prefer you alive. He needs you because of your power and because of your link with the Riordans. Without you blocking him, the demon can move in and start taking souls.”
The spider moved closer still. Stiff hairs brushed against Evan’s leg, and he felt his throat close. He took another deep breath, forcing his muscles to unclench.
Rose’s back stiffened against him. Her fingers trembled. “I guess the demon’s sort of out of the loop on this. Apparently he doesn’t realize you know it was Skag in your dreams.” Her fingers tightened. “It’s really you, isn’t it, holding onto my fingers?”
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “It’s definitely me.”
“Rose,” the spider cried, fangs dripping.
“Go away.” She blew out a breath. “You can call my name all you want. I’m not looking at you. Your time’s up.”
Evan watched the spider pause in front of him, as if considering its next move. It raised its two front legs again so that the hooks were even with his face. Evan licked his lips, his hand tightening on his walking stick. The corona of eyes flashed dangerously. The mouth opened wider, and suddenly the head darted toward him.
He swung the walking stick up, aiming for the nearest eye, ducking to avoid the hooks that swung toward his face. The spider jerked back out of his range and he jabbed at it again, catching the side of its body. Its mouth opened, revealing the fangs as it lunged at him. Evan swung the staff in front of him, hearing it strike the spider’s eyes with a satisfying thwack.
And the spider disappeared.
Evan whirled around where he stood, trying to see where the mons
ter had gone, finding nothing but dimness and empty space.
Rosie stood frozen in place, shoulders trembling. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. It’s gone. I hit it and it . . . it just disappeared.”
She raised her head cautiously. “Maybe you killed it.”
“Maybe.” He peered into the darkness again, holding the staff in front of him, waiting for the thing to attack from its hiding place.
“Whether it’s gone or not, we should move on,” she said softly. “This may be our best chance.”
“Right.” He grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her toward the door in front of them.
“What did it look like?”
Evan sighed. “Never mind. Let’s just get out of here.”
Chapter 28
The door loomed in front of them, and Evan stepped away from Rose, motioning for her to wait. She blew out an irritated breath and moved up beside him. “You don’t need to shield me, Evan. We’re in this together.”
He shook his head, peering through the open door. “I don’t see anybody.”
Rose closed her eyes for a moment. Save me from heroic hunks. She took his hand as he edged through the door.
Another room stretched in front of them, lighted with iron chandeliers. The gray walls were spread with jewel-colored tapestries that moved slightly in the faint breeze. At the far end of the room, a fire blazed in an immense fireplace, blending the faint spice of wood smoke with the perfume of potpourri.
It looked like something out of a picture book about the Middle Ages. It also looked vaguely familiar. She took a few moments to survey the contents. A few heavy wooden chairs and tables were placed along the walls leading to a raised dais at the end with a large chair that might have been a throne.
“Okay, this isn’t from one of my dreams, unlike everything that’s jumped us so far.” He shuddered slightly. “Do you recognize it?”
She shrugged. “It looks like a picture from a fairy tale book I had when I was a kid.”
“Were there any monsters lurking around in that fairy tale? Griffins, say, or maybe dragons? Possibly Grendel?” He glanced again at the shadows dancing at the edges of the room.