Bran Hambric: The Farfield Curse (3 page)

Bran froze...the strange sound was back, closer than before. He sat up straighter and looked around. Something snarled, hissing and breathing hard, like a seething dog pulling against its chain, choking the air out of itself. But then, just as quickly, the devilish sound faded into the night. Bran could now hear a soft scraping, like feet across metal, getting closer each second.

"Sewey," Bran whispered hurriedly. "Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Sewey murmured, oblivious.

"That noise…" he said, looking around with alarm as it got closer.

"What noise?" Sewey asked. "Stop babbling! Can’t you see I’m trying to—?"

A flurry of motion next to Bran cut Sewey off in mid-sentence. There was another loud hiss as Bran jumped from the edge—and not a moment too soon, as the most hideous thing he had ever seen leapt onto the roof behind him.

Chapter 2

Chasing Shadows In the Dark

Bran shouted, Falling Forward and hitting Sewey’s briefcase, sending papers into the air. Sewey leapt up at the sight of the creature, jerking back against the chimney with Bran in front of him, the flashlight still in his hands as the monster’s feet hit the rooftop.

The creature was crouched over, his hands hovering inches from the shingles—his body the shape of a man, though his face was twisted and his skin rough and mottled with green and brown. The black claw-like fingers were thick and balled into fists, and he hissed and gasped through clenched, jagged teeth—that same sound Bran had heard not a minute before. His eyes shone an empty green, his smell like death and sweat. It made Bran sick all the way through, as if someone was sucking the air from his throat with a vacuum. Sewey pulled Bran back as the creature slid forward, looking from one to the other.

"S-Sewey!" Bran stammered, staring at the monster, hardly able to believe his eyes. Sewey trembled, brandishing the flashlight like a weapon.

"Great Moby…" Sewey breathed, his eyes wide. He struggled to train the flashlight on the monster’s face, who cringed and shrieked all of a sudden, covering his eyes.

"Shamblesss!" the creature screamed, turning his head to escape the light, his voice dry and cracking. He gave a horrible, bloodcurdling scream and stumbled back. Suddenly he gave an enraged snarl.

"He’s going to jump!" Bran shouted, a moment too late as the creature sprang forward, catching them both. Bran fell to the side but managed to grab hold of the rooftop, scraping his fingers. Sewey scrambled but the creature caught his arm, slamming him against the chimney.

"No, please no!" Sewey shouted, his cheeks white with fear. The creature snarled at him, grabbing the flashlight. Sewey tried to get his revolver up and Bran scrambled to his feet, but they were both too late, as the creature shoved Sewey to the side. Sewey lost his balance and started to roll, and in a second Bran saw him reach the edge and go over with a shout.

"Sewey!" Bran yelled, but the creature spun to face him. The monster’s eyes were wild. He threw the flashlight over the edge, crouching again, his gaze trained on Bran.

"Shamblesss…" he hissed, purring almost, stepping forward slowly.

Bran slid back a step. The creature gave a low growl, as if he had cornered a victim and was moving in for the kill. Bran knew he was just steps away from the edge of the roof. He clenched his teeth. "Go away," he whispered. There wasn’t any power in his voice, and the creature took another slow step closer, stalking him, waiting for Bran to make the first move. Bran’s palms were sweating as the creature’s eyes rolled around, watching him closely.

"S-stay back!" Bran commanded, his voice wavering. The creature stepped forward, and Bran held his hands out, ready to defend himself. The creature tilted his head and let out a small hiss.

"Shamblesss…"

Bran swallowed hard. The creature had spoken it again, that word. He stared at Bran; going still, as if waiting for Bran to respond.

"Shambles?" Bran said softly. "Is that your…name?"

It was the first thing that came to him. But in a moment, he thought he saw a glimmer in the green of the creature’s eyes— of recognition, of memory, of something that was completely different than what had been there before. It almost seemed that when Bran said it, the creature’s muscles relaxed just a bit.

"Yesss," he finally hissed.

There was silence between them, Shambles breathing hard.

"What do you want, Shambles?" Bran asked quickly, stalling for any time he could. Shambles coughed, lurching forward. Bran stepped back hurriedly, but Shambles only fell, trying to breathe. A black bracelet was around his wrist, its green gem catching the light, and something Bran could not see was clutched in his right hand.

"Hambric…" he choked. "Mussst…take Bran Hambric… back…"

Instantly, Bran’s muscles tightened. The creature…he knew his name! It made Bran’s skin go cold and he jerked his hands up.

"H-how do you know who I am?" Bran gasped, drawing back. Shambles hissed again, looking up, remembering something, like a memory that was surfacing in his mind.

"Emry…" he hissed. "Emry Hambric…wasss your mother…"

Shambles looked into his eyes. "She wanted it…she wantsss you to
come back.
"

Bran was still. "My mother?" he whispered. Shambles’s words struck him hard—he had never known her. "I don’t have a mother," he finished.

Shambles hissed, trying to breathe, looking over Bran intently as if there was something in Bran he was trying to recognize.

"Her necklace…" Shambles whispered, his eyes moving down. Bran barely caught the words, and he looked at his neck: he wasn’t wearing any necklace at all. He looked back, but Shambles was staring at him, almost as if Bran wasn’t there and he could see through him.

He’s insane,
Bran thought with alarm. Shambles closed his eyes, whispering words so low Bran couldn’t hear them; and when he looked up again, Bran saw that the color behind Shambles’s eyes had gone empty once more. Bran saw something moving in his silhouette—a rope! Shambles held it out, tensing to grab Bran and tighten it around his wrists.

"No!" Bran shouted. There were less than five steps between them. He glanced at his feet, and just as he did, he felt the edge of the roof and almost lost his balance. He was trapped.

"Shamblesss…will take…Bran…back," Shambles hissed.

"Stop, now!" Bran shouted.

Shambles bent over, waiting for the right moment to strike. "Find Bran…bring him back…" he hissed, as if hearing voices in his head.

All of a sudden, Shambles lashed out with his hand, hitting

Bran hard and grabbing hold of his arm. He pulled Bran and spun him around. Bran was faster and jabbed his elbow into the creature’s ribs. He heard Shambles gasp with pain.

"Let go!" Bran’s voice echoed down the street. He slammed his fist into the creature’s skin, but Shambles fought with a strength that was inescapable.

Suddenly, there was a gunshot from below. The bullet hit the chimney and sent shards of brick flying, pieces of it digging into Shambles’s exposed arms. He shrieked, grabbing his skin. Bran took his only chance and pushed Shambles hard; there was another gunshot that missed again, and he heard Sewey shouting below. Bran leapt away, but in a rush of motion, Shambles tripped, losing his balance and falling headfirst into a roll, all the way off the edge of the roof.

Sewey gave a shout, and the gun went clattering off. Bran was nearly petrified, but there wasn’t a moment to lose, so he rushed down the ladder, not even thinking of what Shambles had said anymore. Just as he dashed around the corner, he was pushed off his feet by Shambles’s running the other way. They fell to the ground, but the creature didn’t hesitate, his knee catching Bran’s chin. Bran shouted in pain, but Shambles leapt up, taking off down the road, and Bran heard Sewey groaning from around the corner.

"Ohhh!" Sewey moaned. "My back! Where is that blasted fiend?"

Sewey was in the grass, searching frantically for his gun, but certainly alive and well, except for a sore back and some very flattened bushes next to the house.

Bran struggled to his feet.

"Sewey, he’s gone!" he said as he rushed up.

"Of course he’s gone." Sewey snatched his gun out of the grass, and then squinted in the dark.

"Great Moby, what
is
that thing?" he said, and without taking a second to think, he raised the gun and took a crazy shot, the blast sounding through the neighborhood.

Of course the shot missed, and Shambles disappeared into the dark.

"Oh, rot!" Sewey shouted, waving his arms. "Get in the car!"

"You’ll never catch him!" Bran protested.

"Just get in," Sewey roared, already running. He wrenched open the rusty door of his old automobile and, finding he had no keys, quickly reached under the car and pulled out his emergency key lockbox hidden above the wheel. The tires squealed as Sewey rocketed out, throwing Bran against the torn cushions in the backseat. Bran managed to sit up as the car flew out of Bolton Road and onto the intersection. He could scarcely see the creature from so far away. Sewey spotted him, though, and punched on the gas, gripping the wheel with both hands. Bran was thrown to the other side of the car as Sewey spun onto Barryless Street, skidding over the curb. Sewey hit eight garbage cans and a row of bushes, uprooting them into the air.

"That burglar thinks he can run fast, eh?" Sewey challenged. "Ha! My old Schweezer can drive faster than anyone."

The Schweezer gave a loud pop in protest. The creature cut through a fence and onto Gnibnobbin Lane. Sewey sped around the corner but then immediately slammed on the brakes. Bran knew why: Officer McMason patrolled that street and wouldn’t like at all to see Sewey speeding,
again.
They cruised slowly, Bran’s eyes scanning the houses on either side.

There were plenty of hedges and cars that the creature could have darted behind.

"He might have lost us…" Bran said. He moved to the other window and saw no sign of Shambles there either. Sewey went very slowly, watching for any sort of movement and running onto the curb many times. All of a sudden, Bran saw a figure dart out at the end of the road.

"There he is!" Bran shouted, pointing. Sewey slammed on the pedal at Bran’s outburst, and they went flying over the curb and onto the sidewalk.

"Where?" Sewey cried, veering into someone’s formerly well-tended lawn. He spun the wheel to avoid a tree, spun it again to avoid a bush, and went rocketing off the curb— sailing nearly two feet before they hit the ground with a shattering impact.

"
Behind
us!" Bran pointed in the other direction. The creature lunged down a street, and Bran gripped the sides of the car as Sewey made the turn and they crashed over some railroad tracks.

"Left!" Bran called.

"Right," Sewey agreed. The car skidded on its side, and the instant they made the turn, Sewey slammed on the brakes again, and Bran almost went through the window. The tires squealed, and with a great
whump,
the car fell back, and the engine gave a small spit and died.

"Oh, come on Schweezer," Sewey protested, turning the key. The engine coughed like an old goat."Come on, we’re so close," he begged. The engine turned, choking harshly.

"We’re gonna lose him," Bran murmured. The engine hacked and croaked, Sewey pushing the key forward, and it finally gave in and came back to life.

Sewey looked up. "Now where?" he demanded.

Bran shifted his gaze back to the street. The houses were dark, and the streetlamps were dim. They were all alone. Everything was still.

"Well, where is he?" Sewey asked.

It was just then that there came a sudden piercing sound. It wasn’t the car, schweezing in protest. Nor was it the burglar ordering Sewey to put his hands in the air. Nor was it the many homeowners whose lawns Sewey had ruined (on more than one occasion). It was, in fact, the most dreaded, feared, and terribly despised sound in the entire world to Sewey Wilomas.

"
Sirens?
" he shrieked with disbelief.

Bran looked out the back window and saw a police car making the same turn they had, lights flashing and sirens blaring through the night.

"Officer McMason," Sewey whined miserably.

The officer was pulling them over. And on top of that, they had lost the burglar.

Chapter 3

The Creature and His Master

Bran hit the side of the car in frustration. "Not again," Sewey whimpered, and Bran knew exactly what was coming next. "But maybe I can outrun him," Sewey said, punching on the gas for the first turn he saw. "Or maybe you
can’t,
" Bran said as Sewey turned into a dead-end alley.

"Oh, ROT!" Sewey slammed on the brakes as the flashing lights appeared behind them and the patrol car blocked off all avenues of escape.

"Fourth time this month," Bran observed. "Third," Sewey snapped back. He stared straight ahead with a stony face, as if he could just disappear if he ignored everyone. The officer got out of his car and strolled leisurely toward them as if he had done this many times before (which he had).

"Mouth closed, interruptions, none," Sewey growled at Bran between his teeth. "I won’t have you laughing like last time when I told him about the ducks spitting rocks at my windshield."

"Or the spider tap-dancing with the giant lizard," Bran added. "I said interruptions, none!" Sewey ordered. "If there’sone peep while the officer is here…" His voice trailed off menacingly.

Having been through the same routine many times before, Bran resolved to let Sewey fend for himself.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilomas," Officer McMason said cordially as he moved for the window. He had a thick black moustache like a fox’s tail under his nose. Sewey refused to look at him.

"Haven’t you learned yet?" The officer tapped the roof. "This is a car, not a rocket ship."

"I have a perfectly good reason for speeding, thank you," Sewey stated, still staring ahead.

"Don’t tell me you were chased by elephants again," Officer McMason said with mock surprise. "I guess I’ll have to call Animal Control to round them up."