“Why? Why do they want the music box, if it is a way into the world in between?”
“Because they want to release the evil within that world.”
Maria shuddered. Her flesh broke out in goosebumps.
“They want to harness the power of the dead inside, and bring it to Oriceran. They want to rule the world.”
“So they want Oriceran, not Earth?” she clarified.
Duke nodded. He looked so much like a man it was unsettling. Amazing, the things war will do to someone, she thought.
“They do want Oriceran, but what would stop them from conquering Earth, too?” he asked.
The momentary relief that had come over Maria tightened into dread again.
“They’ll be no match for our military,” Maria said confidently. It was hard to believe her own voice, though. The truth was, she didn’t know anything.
Duke smiled. Now he looked like the boy he once had been.
Maria’s heart broke as she thought of the life he was supposed to have had ahead of him, all squandered by a treacherous Arachnid named Malakai.
“Magic is much stronger than bullets and bombs. Sure, your adopted people may manage to kill a few, but there are legions of them. Legions full of dark magic,” Duke continued.
He isn’t lying. If what your grandfather has been muttering in his sleep is true, then we are in for a world of hurt, Sherlock said.
Maria glanced at him. He nodded slightly.
Okay, this is too damn crazy.
“So what happened with the dark magic?” she asked.
“Malakai was raised from the dead. When someone dies and is brought back, all emotion goes out of them. They become very focused beings. Malakai has one singular goal, and he will stop at nothing until he gets it.”
“The music box?”
Duke nodded.
Suddenly, Sherlock’s head swiveled to the hall, in the direction of the steps. He stood up and growled, his hackles rising.
“What is it?” Maria asked, feeling fear quiver in her stomach.
A noise. Someone coming through the backyard. The gate is squealing, Sherlock said.
“Could be the wind,” Maria said uncertainly. Deep down, though, she knew.
“It’s him. He’s found you. I don’t know how, but he’s found you,” Duke confirmed. “You must go. You must find a safe place to hide. I shall visit you again. Go, Maria! Go!”
Maria didn’t wait around. She darted to her dresser and grabbed the music box.
Sherlock had started to bark.
“Gotta get Gramps,” she called and went down the flight of stairs two at a time.
She saw a dark shadow pass the curtains near the back porch. Her heart was beating frantically. The motion-detector light clicked on, and Maria didn’t linger. She turned down the hall and went into the living room. The soap operas were still on. Maria reached out and grabbed for her grandfather’s shoulder—
But there was nothing there.
She looked down at the empty chair in disbelief. It was just a pile of blankets and pillows. “That sneaky son of a bitch,” Maria said.
Sherlock sniffed the air and yelped.
Closer now, he said. We have to run.
Sherlock was right. She couldn’t let whatever this thing was get the music box, even if she didn’t know anything about a village called Dominion on a planet named Oriceran, or a dead boy trapped in a world in between. She saw Duke, and Duke was not a hallucination. No mind could bring up such vivid imagery. She believed now.
Maria went through the door that led to the garage.
“We need a ride,” she muttered in panic.
Gramps’s Firebird sat covered, and the keys were locked somewhere. No time to look for them. She didn’t have a car of her own yet, despite having had her license for three years. She was saving up, but pay at the Popcorn Palace was next to nothing.
Up against the far wall of the garage was a pink bicycle she used to ride around the neighborhood. It had fat white tires, a white wicker basket attached to the handlebars, and pink and white streamers coming off the grips.
“Not the most stylish option,” she admitted.
It’ll have to do, Sherlock yelped. He’s almost in—
An explosion rocked the back door. The ground thrummed, and Sherlock’s nails skidded on the concrete floor.
“Shit. Well, let’s hope I don’t run into Joe,” Maria said.
She hoisted Sherlock up and into the basket, where he did not fit at all, but it would have to do. Instead of opening the automatic garage door, she went out the garage’s side entrance. She felt an urge to look back over her shoulder, but she didn’t.
Once on the blacktop, she pedaled as if her life depended on it.
Which it did.
She would regroup, and then she would come for the son of a bitch who had threatened her and her family.
Chapter Seven
Lost.
Malakai was lost.
The trail was lost.
All of it, lost.
That was the best way to put it. The Widow would be disappointed. Malakai had failed his master. He’d combed the northeast part of Ohio for weeks. Memories of an old life came to him in waves, and when he tried to shake them from his head, he couldn’t. The only explanation could be that he was close to Ignatius—so close that some form of magic triggered these repressed and dead memories.
But where is he? Where is the music box?
He hadn’t heard from the Widow since that night in the woods, since the night he had first killed. It was worrying him more and more. An emotion like worry wasn’t supposed to affect the dead, yet here he was.
It was getting to him so much so that he’d been seen by more than a handful of people; he had gone against his orders, allowing them to live, and those people had undoubtedly talked. The legend of the giant spider creature was loose; it was a train off of the tracks, but maybe that was a good thing. A little fear could help him out.
Except it wouldn’t help him find Ignatius or the box.
There was one final way, one last resort.
The Order of the Silver Griffins.
That was why he was here, in Akron. Some kind of
