Then Hilario heard it.
A beat. A thump.
Steady. Faint at first. Growing louder.
It came from above.
No one spoke. There was no other sound.
Even the tinkling, plinking sound of the terror spider’s piano abdomen was stilled.
The vines and leaves cocooning the van became still. Blood red roses dotted the windows. Their blooms as bright as fresh blood.
Something was coming.
Terror clenched Hilario’s heart.
Friend or foe?
Silly question. This was the unseen world. There were no friends. Only temporary allies. And right now he was rather short of even those.
The beat, like the heart of some giant beast grew closer. So powerful it rattled the van with each thump.
Thump-Boom.
Thump-Boom.
So close now it seemed to be inside his head, threatening to explode it.
Then it stopped.
All he could hear was his own ragged breath and the labored beat of his heart.
The silence was heavy.
Expectant.
Oppressive.
Larry breathed out a single word. A hushed whisper. As ghostly as his form.
Almost a prayer.
“Rachel…”
The thorn studded vines covering the van writhed. Glistening thorns screeched over the van’s skin.
The blood red roses snapped shut.
Piano notes sounded. Furious. Discordant.
Something screamed.
A sound ripped from an inhuman throat.
The ground shook under the van. It bobbed on its creaking suspension.
Thump. Boom.
Thump. Boom.
Piano notes plinked higher and higher.
Thump. Boom.
Vines writhed over the windows. Their thorns like the screech of abused violins.
Thump. Boom.
A howl split the air.
A howl that went on and on.
And on…
Hilario flesh crawled as it continued. It seemed to bore under his skin. Take up residence in his bones. Twine every fiber of every nerve in his body until he was ready to scream with it.
Then, abruptly. It stopped.
The shaking ground stilled.
The writhing vines quieted.
Slowly, the rose blooms opened. Like hungry, blood red mouths.
The scent of them filled the van. Cloyingly sweet, but with a tang of iron beneath. And at the edge of that scent, another.
Just a hint of decay. And ammonia.
Enough to make Hilario’s chest tighten. To make the breath catch in his lungs.
Seconds passed in oppressive silence.
But before anyone could speak. The vines around the van rustled. They twisted and moved. Pulled away from the doors.
Latches clicked. All the doors–driver’s, passenger, side, back–all opened. Vines twined along the edges. Faint green light flickered outside. Thorns gleamed in the low light.
He could see the black rock floor outside the doors was bare. But the vines lined pathways from each door.
The message was clear.
Get out. Follow.
57
Hilario eased his bulk off the driver’s seat. His floppy clown shoes slapped the black rock of Lord Igidbon’s keep. The sound echoed in the cavern.
He stood still. Listened to the echo fade.
The vine lined path curved from the door toward the front of the van. The door blocked his view up front, though. The vines still covered it, blocking the window. The blood red roses dotted the vines, nestled between the heart shaped leaves.
Beyond the narrow path were only tangled vines. Their hooked thorns gleamed in the flickering green light.
No going that way.
He glanced back at his companions.
Marco and Roger the ogre didn’t look like they were interested in coming out. Odom the Paladin still crouched beside the still unconscious Sapphire Witch. Queezleyan sat by her face, licking her cheek with his fiery tongue.
His gaze caught the bag Sinzerklaazz had thrown at him. What seemed ages ago, but couldn’t have been more than an hour.
The bag was draped over the engine compartment cover between the front seats. The fabric was as blood red as the roses blooming on the vines. The golden cord at the top hung loose. The opening of the bag was in shadow.
You’ll know what to do with it.
Like heck. Unless the old entity meant he should jump into it and hide. Which sounded like a great idea. But only if the bag was armored against attack.
“Is the spider gone?” Odom asked.
Hilario looked back around. Off to one side, vines twined around it was a ginormous spider leg. Green ichor dripped from the torn end of it.
“Yes,” Hilario said.
At least it didn’t look like the big, metal baby needed to worry about it any more.
“Are there any more?” Odom asked.
Hilario shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Maybe you could venture a little further out, noble clown,” Odom said, “See if the area is clear.”
“You really are the runtiest of the paladins, aren’t you?” Hilario said.
He nearly clapped a white gloved hand over his mouth. Did he just say that? Oh dear.
Before Odom could jump out and slice his head off, a moan came from the Sapphire Witch.
“Momma Sapphire!” Queezleyan shouted.
The little six-tailed rat demon jumped put and down beside her head.
The Sapphire Witch batted Queezleyan away. She struggled up to her elbow. One hand rubbed her forehead.
Despite everything, her mane of dark hair still looked perfect. One of the benefits of magic. Or maybe her hair was carved out of a single block of material, sort of like Odom the runty paladin.
“What happened?” she said.
“You got owned, lady,” Detective Marco said. He wagged a stubby finger at her. “That’s what you get for messing with the po-po.”
Hilario sighed. How had all of this gotten so out of hand?
Something whispered in his mind. A rustling of voices. Distant, but near at the same time. So low that he couldn’t make out the individual words. A crowd in hushed conversation.
But directed at him.
“Are you all right my lady?” Odom asked.
The Sapphire Witch sat up. For a moment she wobbled. Odom steadied her.
She jerked away from him.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. Her voice was like ice.
Odom pulled away, a frown on his noble brow.
Come here…come here….here…here…here…
The voices coalesced to a single, echoey one.
