In his mind, he envisioned Ignatius’s daughter doing the same. He pictured her jaw clicking open and her bones creaking as she sat up and wrapped her talon-like fingers around Harry’s neck.
He swallowed, the dryness of his throat making a clicking sound.
“No, that’s crazy. That can’t happen,” he told himself.
Suddenly, the corpse’s mouth began to move—back and forth, back and forth, grinding its back teeth. Sharpening them so it can bite into me, he thought, and snapped his hand away. There were no eyes in the sockets of the corpse that had once been Zimmy Ba; no magic could’ve preserved them. Time wins all battles in the end. But Harry looked into those black holes where the eyes should’ve been, and he felt their emptiness staring into him. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and he could hardly breathe.
The jaw kept moving, wiggling, grinding.
Just as Harry was about to get up and get the hell out of there, Zimmy Ba’s jaw opened with a sound like rusty gate hinges creaking in the dead of night. Packed dirt, so old it was like dust, fell out of her mouth, along with a few squirming worms. These worms were fatter than any worms Harry had ever seen—if he didn’t count his ex-girlfriend who’d cheated on him with an Orc. He wondered if the worms had gotten that fat and plump from snacking on Ignatius Mangood’s daughter for so many years. He wondered if the witch’s eyes were currently sitting in the rounded stomachs of those worms, waiting to be digested.
He brought a fist up to his mouth and shook his head. “Quit being scared. Fortify!” he told himself. “Letting Earth fables scare you. You need to quit reading those Jack Zombie stories. First you have a nightmare, and now it’s bleeding into real life? Harry, Harry, Harry.”
He couldn’t help himself, though. Those damn zombie and horror books were as addicting as Coca-Cola—another habit he needed to kick before he got what the people of Earth called ‘diabetes’.
His heart rate came down a bit as he watched the worms squirm away and get lost in the dirt and the high grass.
He bent low and grabbed the necklace, unclasping it off of the corpse’s neck. The chain was a fine gold, thin and sleek. He looked at the pendant containing the Jewel of Deception. The jewel itself was three carats; what that meant, well, Harry had not the slightest clue. All he knew for sure was that it was big as hell, and could probably catch a pretty hefty price in one of America’s pawn shops. Really, though, no amount of money could buy this jewel. It was priceless.
Taking his dagger from his belt, he squatted and lay the necklace across his knee. The ruby-red blazed bright as the moonlight broke through the clouds. Even in the dark, Harry thought, shaking his head. He put the sharp point into the necklace, between the stone and the bezel. Straining until his face turned red and his skin grew slick with sweat, he persisted until the jewel came free with a clink. It launched into the air, twinkling like a shooting star in the night.
Harry’s heart plummeted as he watched the jewel float and then drop. It made a noise when it hit the grass, louder than the nearby sounds of the Dark Forest: the chirruping of animals, the screeching of bats, the low rumbles of magical creatures Harry couldn’t place but didn’t want to come face-to-face with.
His world came crashing down when he thought he had lost the jewel. How bad that would have been. Not only would he not get those people out of the world in between, but the Arachnids would hunt him down for his failure for the rest of his life. Luckily, the three carats and the fact that the jewel shone like a bloody sun allowed Harry to locate the ruby in the tall grass. Hell, it had taken out a chunk of the ground when it landed.
Harry bent down and stared at the Jewel of Deception. It was enchanting. How could someone wear it around their neck and not constantly stare into a looking glass at its beauty?
He picked it up.
He was a young man again, in love for the first time—the first of many. Her name was Alicia, and she was the fairest maiden in all of the village. Harry was sweet on her the moment he laid his eyes on her silky hair and almond colored eyes. There was a time behind his uncle’s barn when Harry and Alicia were alone. The two moons had shone down on them like spotlights, and they were the players on a stage, acting out true love.
The rest of the memory was distorted.
Harry went in for their first kiss, and Alicia slapped him, calling him a pervert at the top of her lungs. Her father heard her from their house at the top of the nearest hill. He was a burly wizard with a burly magic. In this new ‘memory,’ which came to Harry as clear as day, Alicia’s father came out with his wand in his hand and a snarl on his face. A bolt of magic struck Harry’s chest, sending him backward into the wooden wall of the barn.
Screaming in the middle of the clearing, Harry saw his own death. He saw his robes catch fire, then his hair; his wispy beard singeing away, his skin dripping off like melted candle wax, his eyes catching and going up like fireballs.
Harry dropped the ruby, and as quick as the false memory had come, the reality flooded back. He and Alicia had kissed that night. It was the first time he had ever kissed a woman, and the first time Alicia had kissed a man. They fell for each other then,
