Bad Apple (The Warner Grimoire) (38 page)

An idea sprouted in his mind. “We have to go back,” he said, brushing himself off.

Penny stared at him, her voice quavering. “We can’t. We need to get back to the house.”

His words were bloody and muddled. “No. I know what I need to do.”

“Then you’ll be killed.”

“He needs me.”

Penny touched Simon’s shoulder. “Sam needs you alive. This is not the right way to go.”

The words were harder now, almost sour. “No. Boeman. He needs me,” he said more to himself than to her. “They won’t hurt me. He needs me.”

Penny’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying--”

“They’ll take me back to him.”

Penny jerked back. “There is NO way of knowing--”

“Penny!” Simon suddenly screamed, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’m doing! I know
nothing
about this place, about
magic,
about
anything
here, but I have to
do
something!” His hands were shaking. “Sam is still in there. I almost reached him before, I can do it again.” He spit blood on the ground. “I’m going back.”

His words hung rotten in the air.

Penny slowly backed away. “I can’t do this with you,” she said.

He looked her dead in the eyes. “I’m not asking you to. Keep going. Get help.”

“This is crazy.”

“I know.”

The moaning was closing in on them again. Penny continued backing away, her eyes growing wider with each step. “Don’t look at them,” she finally said. “No matter what, don’t look at them.” She bit her lip. “Please.”

“Okay.”

The moaning was almost upon them. Penny turned and ran, vanishing into a thicket of trees.

Simon closed his eyes as the moatlings approached. The moaning filled his ears, and then, his mind. He could feel them now, closing in around him.
They all come
, he thought.
All of them
.

“Well done
,” whispered the Other Voice.

The cold hands grabbed him, and it was over.

* * *

The moatlings were quiet now.

They dragged Simon along the ground, the occasional rock stabbing into his back as they took him to what he could only hope was Boeman.
Do moatlings eat?
He wondered idly. At one point he hit his head on what had to have been a tombstone, and his eyes burst open involuntarily from the shock.

The creature dragging him was almost human in the moonlight. It was certainly pressed into a human shape, but small differences revealed themselves under the moon. Its skin was gray, and its eyes glowed with a faint, silvery-green haze. It was gaunt, thinner than Simon had imagined, but also impossibly strong. Despite its appearance, it bounded over crumbled brick and fallen tombstones effortlessly, yet for all its unnatural grace, it moved without any care for Simon. More rocks stabbed into his back, and Simon kept spitting blood and dirt the entire time the creature dragged him. They were followed by the scores of more creatures, most no more than the outline of a person against the night sky. Simon’s eyes darted between what shapes he could make out, desperate to spot Sam.

Finally the Maddening Wall came into sight. Simon had been right--they were taking him back to Boeman. Small murmurs rippled through the creatures as they reached the barrier, and for a moment Simon thought they were going to begin moaning again. However, they simply shuffled through the opening, their worn faces temporarily lit by the clear patch of sky overhead. Simon searched what faces he could again, and his heart leapt when he thought he saw him, but when the shadow cleared he saw the creature was missing half its face, and dread began to creep over him. Had this been the right choice?

Simon felt the small
pop
again as they crossed the invisible barrier that permeated the Maddening Wall. They were close now. He swallowed his revulsion towards the creatures, forcing his disgust to the back of his mind. The obelisk still towered over the top of the hill, and next to it stood Boeman, who stared at him with a bemused smile. Off to the side stood Nathan and Kate, back to back, circled by a pack of hounds, all their eyes blazing green. The earthen wolf stood defiant against the pack, and Simon saw the hounds tear into it all at once, tearing and pulling and tugging it into pieces. He cringed at the wolf’s death howl. Nathan’s coat was torn right above the shoulder, and the brown fabric was soaked in blood. Kate gripped her hatchet tightly, its ethereal, almost silvery white light seemed to be holding the beasts at bay. Her eyes kept darting around, her mouth moving quickly but speaking too softly to be heard.

“Simon!” Nathan screamed when he saw him. “Simon!”

The growling grew louder, the sound of Streaker’s pack mixing with the renewed moaning of the ghouls. Something very large and very heavy hit Simon’s captor, causing it to release him, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground. Simon lifted his head, and directly in front of him was one of the new hounds, it’s muzzle thick with matted fur. Its eyes and fangs were trained on the ghoul. The ghoul lashed at the dog furiously, swiping dirty, clawed hands without any regard for its own safety. Behind him some of the ghouls began to groan, harder and harsher than earlier, and a small group of them broke off in a clump and headed straight for the pack. Nathan took this in with extreme interest. “Seems they’re not getting along much these days,” he shouted to Boeman. “What’s happening out beyond the Moat to make a couple puppies get so bent out of shape?”

Boeman’s eyes flared. With a flick of his wrist the wandering ghouls caught fire, a bright blue flame accompanied by shrieks and screams of agony, then they fell to the ground lifelessly. The errant hounds fell back just in time to avoid getting burned, then rejoined the pack around Nathan and Kate. Streaker growled at Boeman, who looked at the hound scornfully. “If you can’t control your stupid beasts, I
will
.” At this remark Streaker bared its teeth at Boeman. “Well, fine,” Boeman said, exasperated. “You do it then if it’s so damn easy. Oh wait, you
can’t
. So quiet down and let me work.”

A new pair of cold hands grabbed Simon and lifted him back into the air, carrying him up the hill and throwing him onto the ground at Boeman’s feet. Simon tried to stand but a large, heavy weight came crushing down on his neck. The moatling was standing with one foot on him.

“Simon!” Nathan shouted again. With a great heave of his good arm, Nathan threw his salt bag towards Simon, and a burst of green and purple sparks erupted as it flew through the air. Streaker glowered at Nathan, its eyes hot with anger.

“Not this time,” Boeman said. “I’m afraid the time for your little parlor tricks is over, Mr. Tamerlane. You only have yourself to thank for that. Every time Streaker crosses the Moat he only grows stronger, and you, Ms. Merrimoth, what kind of company is this to keep? Honestly,” he said, dropping his shoulders. “If your father could see you now--”

“You shut your mouth!” Kate snarled, and the silver light from her hatchet waned as she lost her concentration. The dogs immediately fell in as the light shrunk.

“Stop it.” Simon struggled to breath from the weight of the ghoul on top of him. “Let them go.”

“Why?” Boeman squatted down next to Simon. “What good would that do for me? No, I think my interests are better served if I keep them right here, right now, but the real question is, what will you do to free them?”

Kate’s shield shrunk again. Her arms were starting to drop. “Don’t do it Simon!”

“Don’t hurt them,” Simon said. “Please.”

“What will you give me?” Boeman said.

“Give him nothing,”
whispered the Other Voice.

Simon glared at Boeman. “Nothing,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let them go.”

The dogs moved in again, a chorus of low growls beginning to form.

Boeman smiled. “Time’s almost up, Mr. Warner. Do you really want to risk it?”

“No,” Simon said. “I’m done making deals with you.”

Kate’s shield winked out.

“Pity,” Boeman said. He waved his arm towards Nathan and Kate. The dogs scattered as the Nathan and Kate were lifted suddenly into the air, blown back by the force of Boeman’s spell into the waiting arms of the Maddening Wall. The statues had made a spot for them already--one bare spot of the underlying iron gate was exposed, and they hit it with a sickening
clang
. Simon flinched at the noise, and when he looked back he could see the statues had already closed their arms around them, pinning them, trapping them under stone arms and with stone hands covering their mouths.

“No!” Simon pounded his fist against the ground. A huge flash of light erupted out of him, blowing the ghoul off his back. It was a full second before Simon realized he was free, then he scrambled to his feet.

“Won’t be long for them now,” Boeman said. “They’ll be fine if you can ever get them out.”

Simon turned to face Boeman. Sparks flew wildly between his fingertips. He didn’t care anymore, didn’t care if he wasn’t trained, didn’t care if he was putting himself at risk. He couldn’t let this go on any further. His heart began to pump furiously as he tried to summon all his strength, all his anger, all his
rage
that slept deep inside him. His muscles tensed and ached from the effort. His teeth began to grind and his vision blurred as adrenaline coursed through him, firing wildly against every one of his nerves as he felt the power building, growing,
boiling
inside him as he prepared to give Boeman everything he got.

“Destruo,”
the Other Voice whispered.

He hadn’t known then what he knew now, hadn’t understood the magic
inside
words, hadn’t understood the need to keep a
buffer
, or a
sight
through which to aim his anger and his magic. The word boiled inside his mind again--
destruo
. His shoulders burned, spreading like fire until he felt he was going to burst.
Destruo
.
“Become the hand,”
the Other Voice said. “
Become the right hand of destruction. Fulfill your destiny.”
The thoughts were confusing, cracking his concentration. He did his best to swallow his confusion and focus on Boeman, on the man who had torn the only family away from him he had ever known, his
uncle
, a secret he had never known. “
Destruo, and the anger building. Destruo, and the fires burn. Destruo, and the fury is born.”
Fury burned within Simon, seeping outwards until the air began to sizzle, and the grass around him turned brown and died.

“Say it,”
the Other Voice commanded.
“Do it now.”

He knew exactly what to do.

“Impressive,” Boeman said, holding his hands up. “But before we let things get out of hand--”

Simon moved fast, hawk-like, swinging his fist as hard as he could into Boeman’s jaw. Bone found bone, and Simon felt an ungodly pain erupt in his hand.

Boeman stumbled back a few feet, thrown off balance by the force of the impact. Simon’s hand stung horribly, and when he tried to move his fingers pain shot up his arm. In the back of his mind he knew he had broken his hand.

Boeman regained his footing, rubbing his jaw gingerly. “All right,” he said. “I thought we might amend our arrangement, but you,” Boeman worked his jaw, which made a terrible clicking noise, “you want to get down to it, I see.”

The throbbing pain in Simon’s hand distracted him, washing over his anger. He held his hand to the side and hoped Boeman wouldn’t notice.

“Tell you what,” Boeman said. “I could just force your hand back into the obelisk. I do have control over you heart and soul.” Simon’s left arm lifted up against his will, phantom pains pulling the strings. “But you’re such a
baby
you might go running off and crying that
it wasn’t fair
or some other nonsense. So let’s level the field, shall we?” His eyes flared with green and blue sparks. “
Simon Warner
,
I release you from our agreement
.” Instantly Simon’s arm dropped. It swung loosely at his side, and he was glad Boeman hadn’t lifted up his injured hand.

“There now, is that better? Let’s make a new deal.” Something rustled in the bushes behind them. “I don’t think you can do much for your friends, and finding your parents again probably isn’t going to pan out all that well anyway, so I don’t think I can convince you that way. I don’t think you’d make a deal for any of that,” Boeman said. Behind him, a figure stepped out of the trees. The figure walked closer until Simon could see his face clearly. Sam. “But I think you might still make a deal for
him
.”