by Lea Ryan
Part 5
Water. It felt like diving into a pool of warm water.
Juniper and Cricket passed through the mirror, back to Day Limbo, only it wasn't daytime. They landed roughly on ground that felt like gravel. Before Juniper could scramble to her feet, Cricket pulled her by the hand.
The sky was darker, the fog was darker. A vicious red light seemed to come from behind everything - trees, hills, the horizon.
Again, they ran.
As the two of them reached the edge of a wide trench in the ground, a sound like a sonic boom shot through the sky. Gareth had arrived.
Cricket told her, "I know a place we can hide, for a while, at least." She dragged Juniper over the side of the trench.
They slid down the earthen wall to land on a ledge.
Juniper opened her eyes, looked down, and cried out at the sight of an abyss below. The only thing keeping them from plummeting into the darkness was the six-inch deep ledge on which they stood. She flattened her body against the wall in front of her.
"We're going to fall."
Cricket shook her head and shushed Juniper with a finger to her lips. She pointed to the red sky.
"No speaking." She whispered. "He might not find us."
How long could they stand on a ledge? It's not like Gareth would give up.
An army of jackals pounded across the land above them. He had summoned more of the beasties or brought them into existence or did whatever increased his number of minions.
Juniper watched as they passed overhead to block out the sky like a shadowy swarm. There were hundreds, maybe a thousand canine bodies, where he previously had used twenty.
Gareth called her name, sounding almost playful, "Juuuniper. Come now. You can't hide from me. We knew our relationship would develop into this. You're my property, darling." His words echoed, "We'll be together."
Chains rattled. He planned to restrain her.
Gareth made a long leap over the trench, the tail of his coat flying behind him like a cape.
Once he was gone, Cricket scooted sideways along the ledge.
Juniper whispered, "Where are you going?"
"Juuuniper." Gareth's voice but farther away.
"I told you. I have a place to hide. Did you think this was it?"
She followed Cricket down the ledge, which slanted deeper and deeper. She wondered if escape from such a place was possible. No ladders hung over the wall. She didn't expect to find stairs. How much better than prison could an eternity in desolate blackness be?
The swarm plus Gareth made several passes overhead. He could sense her presence but apparently couldn't pinpoint an exact location. Always with chains in hand, he alternated between expressions of affection and threats. He laughed occasionally too. Life in Limbo had affected him with this multi-faceted madness. Limbo was no place for anyone. Of that he had been quite correct.
The more progress the girls made, the quieter the sounds from the surface became. The rattle of chains was lost to distance, as were the howls of jackals.
Cricket informed her, "There is a man who lives at the bottom of the trench. He will help us because he is Gareth’s enemy. He’s jealous of him."
"How could he possibly be jealous?"
Gareth of the claws, palest eyes, and responsibilities that included torture was not a creature to be envied. He was sad, certainly lonely. He lived a miserable existence.
"Mordecai was a guardian once, centuries ago. He had the same duties as Gareth. He lost his role because he interfered. He lives as a refugee."
A golden glow like lamplight penetrated the dark ahead of them.
Cricket continued, "Mordecai became attached to a living boy named Josh, an orphan. Josh lost his parents at age four. Mordecai watched him transfer to home after home. Other kids picked on him, as did some of the foster parents. Mordecai empathized with the child’s loneliness."
“He saved him." Juniper finished.
"He foresaw the boy's death and intervened. Mordecai crossed over during the day to push the boy from the path of an oncoming delivery truck."
Cricket stepped off the side of the ledge.
Loose, grey soil covered the floor of the trench. The source of the lamplight pushed back the dark haze.
There was a cottage with a gable roof.
The home was rather pleasant in spite of its less than ideal location. The shutters and trim were a friendly garden green. The grid windows and cherry-coated gingerbread trim could have belonged in any Midwestern town.
There should be flowers out front, Juniper thought, but the front yard lay as barren as the rest of the trench.
The front door opened.