In Stone (20 page)

“Beau!” Jack’s voice is back. I ignore it, and with a jaw-dropping curiosity, touch the lines of eyes that I don’t want to believe are mine.

“Beau?” Jack’s voice calls again. This time it pulls me out of my trance. It’s clearer, closer, coming from right behind me. I look over my reflection’s shoulder and see him standing there. His eyes are blazing at a hundred degrees of jet-black hate. The white knife is heavy in my hand. I can’t kill him? Can I? My body turns to lead as his arms snake around my waist. My fingers tighten around the knife. I can feel him breathing on my neck. Each burst is like steam from a kettle. I hold the knife poised and ready to jam into his side because I can kill him and I will. But before I can make it connect he snatches my wrist.

A battle of strength begins. The hum drones on inside my head as we glare at one another through our reflections. The power struggle strains his face, but confusion infuses it. I equal his strength. My push is as strong as his pull. I just focus on his image. But that becomes almost impossible when the glass of the mirror starts moving. It’s suddenly alive with a tempest of tar shadows. The mirror can’t cage them. Black limbs pierce the glass and start grabbing at the air. A puppy-like whimper escapes my lips. I’m one John-Carpenter-inspired bad guy away from peeing my pants.

“Beau, don’t do this,” Jack says. A set of dead fingers from the mirror run up and down my throat. I close my eyes and shut out everything. The noise, the clawing creatures,  my impending doom -- I cut it all off from contention and focus solely on the strength in my wrist. My push is reinforced by memories of the last few days -- what I’ve been through to get here. How strong I’ve been on more than one occasion. I don’t allow my mind to wander toward memories of Jack. They won’t help. He’s not here, just this thing that resembles him.

A nuclear bomb goes off inside me. I want to win. I give it a final push. Something gives; something snaps. Jack’s wrist becomes flaccid. I did it. I won. I’m in control -- almost. He’s still holding me. I throw my elbow back into his ribcage. Gasping, he staggers backward. He recovers quickly, and we start circling. He flashes his incisors at me like a tiger intent on defending his territory. But if he’s a tiger, so am I. I charge at him, and we collide in the middle of the sphere we’ve drawn. I try to stab him, but he keeps blocking me. His eyes never leave the knife. I manage to sweep his leg, and he falls to the ground with a bang loud enough to wake the dead. He doesn’t waste any time in dragging me to the ground with him.

“Stop, Beau. Stop!” He growls as we tumble around, trying to overpower each other. I flip him on his back and pin him to the ground. I’m stronger. I grip him with my thighs, push down on his chest with my hand, and hold the knife just above his jugular. “Don’t you know my face? The sound of my voice. We’re friends you and I.”

“Friends? You’re trying to kill me. I don’t know you.”

“It’s not real, Beau. It’s all a lie. It’s this place. It changes us, makes us doubt our own minds.” I’ve heard this before. Rachael said it before we fell. I forgot to fight against the things I’m seeing, and now I don’t know...

Everything is upside down and inside out. My head throbs. The knife trembles in my hand. I’m trying, but I can’t force it to touch his skin.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore.” I sob. Tears drip from my eyes on to his face.

“I know. I know. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. Why don’t you give me the knife, and we’ll talk it through.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said give me the knife, and I’ll help you figure it out.”

When it comes to Jack I’m certain of one thing; he’d rather die than touch this weapon and end up like Gray and Nicholas.

“I don’t think so,” I reply, jamming the blade into his shoulder. The imposter groans and his skin starts bubbling. I find myself, relaxing, enjoying his demise. I even lick my lips. I enjoy it so much I scare myself. Thankfully, I’m yanked away by my shoulders and slung back into the open space.

“What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?” A silver-eyed Jack yells, running his hands through his hair. His stare flits between me and the demon lying on the ground. The demon has transmogrified into a fungus. A sludge-green, man shaped fungus.

“You left me,” I shout. “You left me here alone.”

“I left you? No. No, you were definitely the one that did the leaving,” he argues. “One minute you’re holding my hand, the next you’re punching me in the face and running off at the speed of a bullet. A bullet, Beau. Speeds a human, like you, can’t possibly reach. And you made me bleed,” he adds, touching his nose, reliving the memory. “What are you?”

“Nothing. Nobody.”

“Then what the hell?”

“It was probably an adrenaline rush,” I defend quickly.

“Really? And your innate sense of direction? You’ve led us straight to our intended destination.” He flicks his head to the left. I follow the direction and see several mounds of rock in the distance. “This is a full days trip. You did it in fifteen minutes.”

“I…I don’t know how.”

“And this? What was this? A second shot of adrenaline?” he seethes, driving his foot into the side of sludge boy, lying limp on the floor. “Am I missing something? You are human, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” I say with a large dose of noncommittal. “I mean, normally I’m wholly human, but I guess lately...” Deep breath. “Lately, my body has been acting a little…demonic.”

“Lately? How long, exactly, is lately?”

“Since the flight out,” I say to the toes of my sneakers. He bursts. Fire and steam shoots out of his ears.

“And you didn’t think it was worth a mention? You’re unbelievable. Not an hour ago you were chastising me for keeping things from you, and here you are, doing exactly the same thing.” He’s fiercer than the demon imposter was. It’s kind of hot. Mind wipe.

“I thought about mentioning it, but then I thought if he knows that the knife is affecting me he’ll want to turn back. We’d already come so far, that seemed pointless.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t make decisions like that when you know nothing about the world you’re walking into. What if it takes over? What if this becomes a permanent state of your being? What then?”

“Could that happen?”

“I don’t know!”

“I don’t think it’s that serious.”

“Oh well
, if
you
don’t think it’s that serious it’s probably not,” he replies dryly. With a thunderous tread he marches over and cups my chin in his hands. He looks deep into my eyes with a callous scrutiny. I am a reduced to a dumb kid in his hands.

“What are you looking for?”

“Demon.”

“You won’t find that. It’s a few knife-related side effects, that’s all.”

He’s not listening. “Best guess -- it’s only going to get worse down here.”

I put my hands on top of his and push them lightly down off my face. “Please stop looking at me like that. You’re making me feel alien, and my face is starting to sting.” I clasp his wrists.

His eyes stop frisking my soul for traces of demon and instead he looks at me. Really looks at me. “You’re right. It was stupid of me not to say anything, and I’m sorry, but you’ve got to trust me when I say that I’m still me, and I can still do this. Jack, we’re so close.”

“You’re strong, really strong. Maybe even strong enough to kill me.”

“Careful. It almost sounds like you’re afraid of me.” I reply, teasing just a little.

“Do you want to kill me?” He looks at the knife in my hand. I tuck it in the waistband of my jeans. Hide it under my sweater. Out of sight out of mind.

“No. Not at all.” I’m shaking my head. “I swear.”

Do I want to kill him? No. Of course I don’t. Why did I even ask myself that? He smiles. It’s forced. I guess he decides to trust me as he leans in. I can taste the sweetness of blackberry tea on his breath. I close my eyes and wait for his lips to touch mine, but they don’t.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, following Jack’s gaze. The clouds are several shades darker and are racing across the sky.

“Does it rain in the Underworld?”

“How do these side-effects work? Can you just turn them on when you want?”

“No. It just happens.”

“Then we need to make a move the old-fashioned way. Right now.” Jack grabs my hand, and we start hauling ass toward the caves. Several drops of rain fall on the ground around us. Only this rain doesn’t sit and collect in puddles. This rain punctures the ground like bullets, and leaves small wisps of smoke in its wake. It brings with it a stronger version of the burnt eggs and garlic smell. I feel a sudden sting on my arm. It’s like being caught by the end of one of Leah’s cigarettes. It makes me wince. Jack pulls me up onto his side and bundles me under his jacket.

Seconds later, he’s setting me down on the floor and pulling my donated sweater off my shoulders.

“You’re burnt,” he notes. His fingers hover above my skin, too afraid to touch the bubbling lump on my elbow.

“So are you.” Two angry red blemishes are blowing up like boils on his face. One above his eyebrow and one above his top lip. I take a breath, and they’re already healing, fading into nonexistence.

“But you’re not healing,” he says, drawing a circle with his finger around my burn.

“Told you I was still human.” I turn my attention to the outside. A dense smog covers everything. It’s all noxious gasses that are starting to infiltrate the cave.

“We should move before suffocation sets in,” Jack says, standing up. He pulls me to my feet. We stand for a moment in silence. I want to be closer, hold him, feel that he’s really here. I launch myself at him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” I say into his chest. “I think I went a little crazy back there.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I’m not going anywhere again. I promise.”

SHARP TEETH. THAT’S WHAT
I think of when I stare into the cave.

“They don’t like to make it easy, do they?”

He shakes his head. A monotonous drip echoes. Spiky, custard-colored icicles are everywhere, dangling from the roof, jutting up from the floor, sticking out of the walls. It’s like staring into the open jaws of a crocodile.

“How are we going to do this?”

“Carefully. Very, very carefully,” Jack says, letting go of my hand and taking the first steps inside the cave. The spikes are too close; both hands are required to safely slalom through.

The deeper we go, the harder it gets for us to find some free floor to step onto. It’s an assault course for the suicidal. Jack stops, and as the tail end of this operation, I’m forced to stop, too.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you taste that?” he asks, licking his top lip. I lick mine, but it doesn’t really taste of anything.

“Vinegar.”

“Vinegar, as in demon-like-vinegar?” I say, licking my lip again. This time I can taste something bitter, but I’m not sure if that’s because he’s just planted the idea.

“Yes. We’re close,” he announces.

“It’s nearly all over?”

“Almost,” Jack replies excitedly. He speeds up and is practically swinging from spike to spike like he’s Tarzan.

We arrive at a very small, but very welcoming, clearing. Jack leaps effortlessly onto the safe patch of land. I follow and tuck myself in behind him against the wall.

“Is that it?” We’re looking at a sandstone arch.

“That’s it,” Jack replies. Like spies, we crouch and creep over to it. It leads to a room that’s giving off a warm, ginger glow. We tuck ourselves into the shadows.

Jack’s chest swells and falls as he studies the room. I can’t see past him. As it always does, curiosity gets the better of me, and I lean out to take a look. My view is slightly obscured by the stone arch, but I can see a vicious, orange river of molten lava running around the outside. It spits and blows bubbles. There are a couple of waterfalls, which at first look like they’re spewing the bright, burning liquid into the river. But after a second of inspection, I realize the lava is flowing up instead of down. That’s messed up.

There’s a distinct lack of monsters lurking, but there are a few darkened cubbyholes and crevices up above. They would make for good hiding places.

“What now?” I whisper, locking my fingers around a taut bicep.

“Somehow we have to get the knife into the fire.”

“Okay, let’s do it,” I enthuse, all Famous-Five, ready-to-bust-the-bad-guy attitude, while stepping out from the safety of the shadows.

“Not so fast.” Jack pulls me back to the wall. His lips twist.

“What?”

“You can’t cross this threshold.” He winces. He can’t be serious.

“Why not?” He points to the top of the arch. Carved into the sandstone are several symbols. It’s gibberish to me. Makes me think of Rachael’s tattoos.

“So?”

“So, those markings say if you cross this arch as a mortal...you won’t be allowed to leave.”

“Are you kidding me?” I try to yell, but he puts his hand over my mouth and silences me. I snatch his fingers, ready to tear them from my face.