3
Despite Skale saying he’d be shown to his bed, Michael was led to a rickety couch. It was hard and uncomfortable and squeaked every time he moved, but it was better than the floor. He pulled a scratchy woolen blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. A candle burned on a desk nearby, and he could see its flickering glow even with his eyes closed.
The attack came all at once.
A brutal, splintering pain cut through the middle of his head so suddenly that he fell off the couch, clutching at his temples with both hands. A piercing sound filled his head, partnered with a blinding light, and he wailed in agony, sensed Sarah appearing by his side, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him, asking what was wrong. Michael thrashed, trying to make her let go, afraid of what he might do to her.
Images flashed across his mind’s eye. His mom and dad, their forms wavering until they vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind. Then Helga, her face screwed up in terror. She disappeared, too. Then Bryson, his eyes peering at Michael, full of hatred. Then he was gone.
The pain didn’t cease, and he knew if it got any worse he’d faint, possibly die. He tried to stand. He opened his eyes to see Sarah on the floor, looking up at him with a terrified expression on her face. The candle still burned, but now it seemed as bright as the sun, and Michael had to turn away. He stumbled, threw his arms out for balance—it felt as if up was down and down was up. As if the room was turning and at any moment he would be thrown to the wooden rafters crossing the ceiling.
The couch stretched out, kept stretching, getting longer and longer even though the room stayed the same size. Sarah’s head grew until her face was a horror from a fun house. The boards of the floor began to warp and twist, bending like they were made of rubber. And the sound of the horde pulling Bryson apart filled his head.
He pressed his hands over his ears, squeezing his head as if to hold it together. Somewhere in the back of his thoughts he saw the KillSims at the Black and Blue Club. They’d done this to him. They’d damaged his brain. The antiprograms had to have done something both inside and outside the Sleep.
The pain pounded and pounded, and the world around him grew stranger and stranger. Arms stretching through solid walls, beating hearts hovering in the air, a fountain of blood pooling up from the floor, a little girl in a rocking chair, a limp animal in her lap. And the agonized lament of the unseen tormented—
And then it all stopped.
The room fell silent and all returned to how it had been before the attack. And though only moments earlier it would have seemed impossible, the pain in his head had disappeared.
Michael crashed back onto the couch, his clothes damp with sweat. Sarah was next to him in an instant, reaching out to grab his hand, her face creased in concern.
“Again?” she asked him.
Michael felt as if he had run ten miles. “I think I’m dying.”
4
Skale didn’t wake up. At least, if he did, he never came and checked to see if his guests were okay. Sarah sat with Michael on the couch, arms around him. They didn’t say a word, and he was thankful she didn’t press him to explain what he’d just been through. He thought how lucky he was to have such an amazing friend.
Eventually, they both fell asleep, and Michael didn’t dream. He slept a deep, solid sleep free of panic or fear. He slept like he was dead.
5
Gunner Skale shook them awake. The man had put his red cloak back on, and he was bent over Michael and Sarah, his face hidden in shadow.
“Is it morning already?” Michael asked.
“Morning never comes to Mendenstone Sanctuary,” Skale replied. “It’s our curse and our blessing, but there’s no time to explain. Your demons are here.”
6
Gunner Skale’s words brought Michael and Sarah straight to their feet.
“What does that mean?” Michael asked the old man.
“Where are the demons?” Sarah added.
“Your demons are always with you,” Skale answered. His voice seemed even raspier than the day before. “Don’t you understand that by now? Always with you, impossible to escape. But you never can guess how they might manifest themselves. Be wary, my children. Now come. Quickly.”
“Where are we going?” Sarah asked insistently.
Skale didn’t answer, just crossed the room and opened the door, slipping into the hallway. Michael grabbed Sarah’s hand, and they followed him into the dark. Michael could barely see Skale making his way toward the stairs, and he rushed, pulling Sarah along, to catch up to him.
The group climbed down the steps and Skale led them to the dining area where they’d eaten the night before.
“Please have a seat,” Skale said, gesturing to the wooden chairs. “I’ll go and ask our friends to join us.”
Michael was having trouble putting everything together. He was foggy from sleep, and though his pain had disappeared, he still felt weak from the episode—the pain and the hallucinations were at the front of his mind. And now he was supposed to be readying for a battle with demons? What did Skale mean, that they were always here? Shaking his head, Michael sat in a chair, wincing at the sound of the legs scraping across the floor. Maybe somehow they could hack their way out of trouble this time before it began.
Sarah sat beside him. “We have to think. He said that we’d already been given all the information we need. Can you remember everything else he said? I think it probably has something to do with the prayer before dinner.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, yet for the life of him he couldn’t remember a single word. “But all I can remember is the stuff about Kaine.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Michael leaned on the table and put his head in his hands, closed his eyes. Probed the surrounding code. “I don’t see anything that can get us past this yet.”
“I’ve tried a few times, too.” Sarah tapped her fingers on the wood. “He said something in his prayer about kneeling at the feet of our ancestors. I’m sure that’s a clue.”
Michael nodded slowly as she spoke. “Maybe. It’s so weird how closed off the code seems in this place. On the Path.” He wanted to pound the table in frustration.
Gunner Skale came though the doorway, ending their conversation abruptly. And he wasn’t alone. One by one the animal creatures they’d met earlier made their way in after him. They flew and crawled, slithered and walked. The bear, the goose, the tiger, the dog, the squirrel. A dozen others. And with them were the smells of the forest—of earth and mold and rot.
The creatures filled the room and gradually arranged themselves around its perimeter, each with its back to the wall, each with its eyes glued on the two visitors in their chairs. An uncomfortable silence filled the air, broken only by an occasional snort or growl. And to Michael, every single creature looked like it wanted nothing more than to eat him for breakfast.
“What’s going on?” Michael asked Skale, surprised to find that he was whispering. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be sacrificed to the great animal god in the sky?”
Skale took his time crossing the room and stopped beside Michael’s chair. Michael craned his neck to see the man’s face, buried deep in the red cloak.
“Because,” the man said, “that’s exactly what’s about to happen.”
Michael shot to his feet, sending the chair crashing to the floor behind him. But before he could do anything, the old man said two words that made Michael’s blood turn cold.
“Demons, arise.”
7
Gunner Skale had been right that the demons were with them from the beginning. They were the animals.
The first one Michael noticed was the bear. It opened its enormous jaws and let out a deep, rumbling bellow toward the sky. Then its fur and skin began to peel backward, like wood shavings curling in the heat of a flame. Beneath its skin was a hideous, scar-covered face, and its eyes had changed color into an impossibly bright yellow, just like the eyes he’d seen ou
t in the forest.
Gradually the rest of the creature’s body emerged from its furry disguise. Bulging muscles, hunched back, protruding shoulder blades, clawed paws—it looked nothing like the bear that had served him dinner only hours before. A guttural snarl escaped its lips, which were pulled back from enormous teeth. But it had yet to move. It remained standing, back to the wall.
Michael was mesmerized by the transformation. And now the rest of the animals were going through the same process as the bear, skin folding back to reveal terrifying, skinless demons of all shapes and sizes.
“I thought you were here to help us,” Sarah said to Skale, who stood there unmoved by the turn of events. “What’re we supposed to do?”
“Helping you is exactly what I’m doing,” Skale said, his voice now oddly happy. “Facing your demons will change your souls forever. And your VirtNet deaths will send you back to the Wake. You’ll be saved from being trapped in this place like I have been. May your ancestors be with you, my son, my daughter.”
Michael eyed the door and, sure enough, two demons blocked the way. Somehow he and Sarah would just have to barrel through it. He grabbed Sarah’s hand, not willing to wait to see what came next—there was only one thing to do.
Michael lunged and grabbed Skale by the cloak, twisting him around until his arm was wrapped tightly around the man’s neck. Skale choked out a cough. The demons reacted as one—roaring, they stepped forward. Now they were angry.
“Back off!” Michael shouted, hoping the beasts understood him. “Come any closer and I’ll snap his neck.”
CHAPTER 18
THE FEET OF ANCESTORS
1
Michael had to survive the Path to get to Kaine. And he wasn’t going to let these demons kill him and end his only chance.
“You’re insane,” the man said to him through clenched jaws. “You don’t understand what you’re—”
Michael choked off his words with a tighter squeeze. “Shut up.”
The monstrous creatures had stopped their approach. They stood, hunched and twisted, around the room, every one a nightmarish sight, only moments from attack.
“Michael,” Sarah whispered. She seemed to reconsider what she’d been about to say. “Just …” She raised her voice. “Just make sure you kill him quick when you do it. Break his neck nice and clean.”
Michael fought to hold back a grimace. “Will do.”
He backed toward the door, dragging Skale along as the man struggled to stay on his feet.
“Don’t think I won’t do it!” Michael yelled at the demons. “You let us go and I’ll set him free—otherwise he dies!”
It seemed absurd, but just as they had in their animal forms, the creatures seemed to understand him. A low rumble began to fill the room, a deep growl from the terrifying group, and with every step Michael took backward, they stepped forward.
He glanced back at the door and saw that the two demons guarding it had actually moved to allow a path to the exit. The smallest kernel of hope sprang up—so far his plan was working.
“Don’t come after me,” Michael warned when he reached the door. Skale struggled to free himself from Michael’s hold, but Michael squeezed tighter and he stopped.
Michael backed out the door into the dark, perpetual night with Sarah at his side. As they inched away from the building, he turned to her.
“Get him to talk,” he said.
Sarah nodded. “You said you knew how to get to the Hallowed Ravine. How do we do it? Does the Path continue from here?”
“I’ll tell you nothing,” Skale said through struggling breaths. “For your sake, not mine. Nothing.”
2
The demons had gathered at the door, their glistening, bloody bodies packed closely together, staring out at the three humans. Those yellow eyes gleamed with anger, and Michael thought he saw doubt welling up in them as well.
“Talk!” Michael yelled. “Talk or you’re going back to the Wake!” He shook the man as he spoke and heard him gag the slightest bit.
But Skale said nothing. Panic lit up inside Michael. He was bluffing, that was the problem. What good would a dead Skale do them?
Michael didn’t know what else to do. He started dragging Skale farther away from the house. The man was heavy, and Michael’s muscles ached from the strain. Sarah stayed beside him, nervously looking from the demons to Skale and Michael.
“What’re we gonna do?” she whispered.
Michael didn’t answer, searching the area for something, anything, to spark an idea. On the far side of the long, dilapidated building, he noticed a separate entrance and a large sign above it that read, CHAPEL OF OUR FOREBEARERS. He changed direction to head that way, intuition driving him. Skale had said something about kneeling before their ancestors.
The old man kicked and struggled in Michael’s grasp. He stopped, hoping to get a better grip on the man, and looked up to see that just a few dozen feet away the demons had begun to come through the door. One by one they entered the night, the glow of the moon lighting up their raw bodies and their bright eyes. Growls and snarls and shrieks echoed through the air.
“Talk!” Michael yelled at his captive, shaking him again. The man’s pale eyes peered up at him, and there was determination there. He wasn’t going to tell Michael anything, and Michael knew it. The man would rather die.
“Michael,” Sarah whispered.
He looked up, saw the demons heading their way, faster now. One of them screamed, a high-pitched sound that ripped through the air—somewhere nearby Michael heard glass shatter.
He gazed down one last time at Skale, who was staring back. And then Michael gave up. He released him and the man fell to the ground. The great and mighty Gunner Skale.
Choking for air, Skale scrambled away and stood. “Kill them!” he shrieked. “Rip and slay them!”
Sarah grabbed Michael by the arm and they both took off running, heading for the chapel.
The demons roared as one and charged after them.
3
The door was open.
Michael slammed it shut behind them. “Find something to block it!”
Sarah was already dragging a desk. He ran over to help her, pushed it from behind. It made a horrible noise as its feet scraped across the wooden floor, but they didn’t stop until they’d rammed it against the door. Two seconds later the demons hit the other side of the door and started beating on it.
Michael backed away, scanning left and right to see what they had to work with. The chapel was small and ordinary—a dozen or so rows of pews divided by an aisle down the middle, which led to an altar. Beyond that were statues of people of all ages and sizes, carved from white marble, standing on a dais. Their eyes seemed to stare at Michael. Forebearers. Ancestors.
Michael noticed with a wash of horror that there were several stained-glass windows set into the walls around them. The demons didn’t need the door.
“The altar,” Sarah said to him, surprisingly calm. “The altar. Come on!” She headed up the aisle, and Michael quickly fell into step right beside her.
“He said to kneel. What then?”
Before she could answer, all the windows exploded inward at the same time, followed by the screams and shrieks and growls of the demons.
Michael and Sarah sprinted for the altar.
4
Glass tore at the demons’ bodies as they poured in through the windows, but they didn’t slow. Michael focused on the altar, just a few feet away now.
“Hurry!” Sarah yelled.
So many sounds filled the room, so much movement. In mere seconds the whole horde of monsters would be on top of them. They reached the altar and clasped hands, dropped to their knees. Michael felt the softness of a pad that had been set there, felt it give a little beneath his weight.
But nothing happened.
He should’ve known—just kneeling wasn’t enough.
They had to look at the code to get out.
5
A wi
nged creature swooped in and knocked Michael backward, sending Sarah to the ground as well. The hideous monster flapped its wings, hovering right above their chests, and Michael saw that it was the goose demon, two words he’d never imagined could be used together. Its bloody beak parted and a horrific, shrill cry tore through the chapel, shattering the glass that still clung to the window frames.
Michael arched his back and kicked out, connecting with the demon’s body, slamming it into a pew, where it fell to the floor, still.
A claw closed on Michael’s shoulder and lifted him to his feet, spun him around to face a nightmare come to life. Huge jaws opened, filled with daggerlike teeth. Sarah was next to him, punching to get free from her own demon attacker.
The creature holding Michael pulled him in close until their noses almost touched. The smell was awful, a mix of rotting food and garbage dumps and decaying bodies. Michael gagged as the foul stench wafted across his face.
It was the bear. Tall enough, strong enough. It had to be the bear.
Michael stared into the monster’s eyes and terror froze him stiff—all but his heart, which beat so rapidly he thought it might crack through his rib cage.
He had no idea what to do.
Something tackled them from the right. Michael and the demon crashed to the ground and its grip on him was torn free. Michael twisted around, saw that it was Sarah—she was punching at the bear demon with all her might. A quick glance to where she’d been showed that somehow she’d killed the creature that had attacked her.
Michael turned, faced the bear, and knew they couldn’t beat it. Not without help. He closed his eyes and focused on the code, ignoring the storm of complexity swirling around him. He strained to put it aside, concentrated on his own self, his Aura, his history in the Sleep. He grabbed for the first thing that revealed itself, Fire Disks from The Realms of Rasputin, snatched the programming, pulled it into the chapel. He would never have been able to do it if he’d thought too much—acting on instinct, he suddenly had glowing, fiery saucers hovering about him. With a thought he unleashed them, threw them all at the bear’s body.
The Eye of Minds Page 18