He’d stand at the railing–which was made of serpent bone–and use a long, barbed pole to hook the living out of the water.
Which was not by any means an act of kindness.
Not with the barge’s terrible captain waiting in the hut that squatted at the center of the deck. A hut made of bone and skin. Red eyes, burning with rancid hunger, watched from the hut. Following every move.
The captain’s hunger knew no end.
And there was so, so, so much to atone for.
A shiver ran through Hilario. To be back in this place….
The keening…how had he not recognized it?
Perhaps because he had never heard it. It had been woven into the very fabric of this place. Mere background noise.
He could already feel his body adjusting to this world. The keening fading to an annoying buzz. The stench becoming just another odor.
No so much for his normal world companions, though.
“Holy, fucking shit!” Marco said, “What the fuck is that smell?”
“Despair,” the Sapphire Witch said.
“Where the fuck are we?” Marco said.
“Despair,” the Sapphire Witch said.
Marco rounded on her. The limp body of Rodney-the-traitor flopped on his shoulder. Marco’s face was twisted with rage. And fear.
“Listen, lady,” he said, “I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with this crap. I don’t care what kind of game you got going on–drugs or hypnotism or what–but it needs to fucking stop. Right now.”
A corner of the Sapphire Witch’s lips turned up. Slightly. The wind whipped at her long, black mane. Tendrils of hair passed over the glowing blue lenses of her brass rimmed goggles.
“If it only could,” she said.
Her voice sounded weary.
She turned around. Back to the gate and its thick chains.
The metal gate and fence were not the same. The metal was twisted. Jagged spurs ran along the length of each bar. In the weak light of the van’s lights (The van had come with them! How?) the bars were stained with orange rust and black ichor.
Beyond the gate the lighthouse still rose. But now it was made of gray, rough cut stone. It squatted at the edge of the rocky cliff, a defiant middle finger upraised to the world.
Quite literally. Here in this layer of the unseen world, the lighthouse–the Eye of Malachi Point–was a roughly made sculpture of a fist with the central finger extended. But it was only obvious from the gate approach. From the filthy ocean below it probably looked like a sloppy pile of rocks with a window on top where the fingernail would be.
He couldn’t recall ever hearing why someone created the rude gesture to the ocean.
But he certainly didn’t disagree with it. Not in this place.
The Sapphire Witch gestured to him. With great reluctance he shuffled up beside her.
“Hilario,” she said, “The next step is up to you. Open this lock for us.”
A bolt of fear went through him. She used his name. The lock had to be enchanted. Is that why she brought him along? The moment he touched it some horrible thing would probably pop out of the keyhole and chew his face off.
And then he’d be back in the unseen world to stay.
“My lady,” Hilario said, “My powers are not very strong. And iron does not–”
“Your talent is more than sufficient for the task, clown,” she said, “We should not tarry. Our presence will draw interest soon.”
Oh, poopity pooperson.
He gave the dark forest a quick glance. Pairs of lights shimmered in its depth. The forest was even darker than before, if that were possible. And the trees were thicker. Their lines more jagged. They were blood thorn trees now, not pines.
And laced within the moan of the wind…the low keening of despair.
“Quickly, clown,” the Sapphire Witch said.
“Yeah, hurry it up,” Marco said, “This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps.”
There was a crunch of dirt beside him. He looked up to Rachel. So close to him he could feel the heat of her skin.
He shrank back.
“I can help,” she said. She flicked a cold glance at the Sapphire Witch.
“No,” the Sapphire Witch said.
Rachel’s brows went down. Her lips set in a thin line. She reached for the padlock.
Hilario’s heart leapt up to his throat. His hands darted out. Captured her arms before her fingers could come into contact with the metal. Her personality buzzed at the doors of his psyche. He slammed his shield shut.
“You really don’t want to do that,” he said.
She replied, defiance in her voice: “Why not?”
The Sapphire Witch stepped up. She towered over them. The furnace heat should have radiated from her body. But all he felt was the chill air. She took Rachel by the shoulders.
“Hey!” Marco shouted, “Get your hands off her!”
He dug into his coat for his gun. Scowled when he came up empty.
“You are not of this world, child,” the Sapphire Witch said, “The clown is. He can open the lock. If he allows himself.”
Hilario let go of Rachel’s arms. His fingers tingled from the contact, even though they had been separated by the fabric of her shirt.
Too close.
“I’ll do it,” he said, “Give me room.”
He raised his hands. Crooked his fingers into positions of casting. Started to unlock his reserve of light energy.
Stopped himself just in time.
He looked to the Sapphire Witch. An smile of amusement curved her lips. A smile that revealed the cruelty in her.
“You’re smarter than you appear clown,” she said.
“And you’re mean,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he could
