Medium Rare: (Intermix) (25 page)

“Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, I’m going.”

They turned a corner and Lenore disappeared from his sight.

***

Rose screamed a few times, she wasn’t sure how many, before she got herself under control again. Her heart hammered and her knees felt weak, but this was definitely not the time to take a break.

After a moment, she forced herself to lean down and place her fingers on the side of Bradford’s neck. His skin felt cold and slack; his face seemed oddly shrunken, as if it no longer had anything behind it. In a way, of course, it didn’t since Bradford’s soul had undoubtedly gone missing, probably long ago.

She backed away, trying to avoid the furniture in the room, all of which seemed to have suddenly been placed in her path. Glancing down, she saw a black shape silhouetted against a tabletop by the moonlight. She reached down and felt metal. Kneeling in the darkness, she ran her fingers over a small but very efficient gun.

Rose blinked. Guns and demons didn’t really seem to go together. It seemed like it should be something a little more exotic, like a scimitar. On the other hand, she wasn’t inclined to turn down opportunities to defend herself. She picked it up and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. She had no idea whether the gun was Bradford’s or whether it had been left for her by the spirit helpers, but she was hoping for the latter.

Aided by the moonlight, she moved out into another hall. A row of windows lined the opposite side, giving her enough light to walk. She started moving forward, breathing deep to slow down her hammering heart.

One passage seemed to feed into another, leading down long, twisting hallways to nowhere. She was guessing the demon was somewhere nearby. He’d shed the human shell that had been Bradford. How long he could function without a vessel, she didn’t know. Nor what she’d do if she actually ran into him. She took a tighter grip on the gun. Not that a gun would be much help against a being that was largely transparent and wholly supernatural, assuming the demon was like Skag.

Moonlight spilled out onto the floor ahead of her—not enough to see much beyond her feet. From a long way away she thought she heard muffled shrieks, and something that sounded like a wild bird’s cry. She shuddered.
Definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

She peered down the hall, hoping for Lenore. Or maybe Helen. Or, best of all, Evan. A dull pain throbbed in her chest.
They’re all right. We’ve just been separated. They’re all okay.

“Evan?” she called. “Helen? Lenore?”

She heard a scratching as brittle legs tickled along the wall to her left. She jumped away, brushing her shoulder against the other wall. Cobwebs.

She shivered. She’d expected the hall she was following to intersect with the one they’d used when they’d come in, but nothing was where it was supposed to be. Clearly she couldn’t rely on her normal sense of direction. She wasn’t even sure
direction
applied in this place.

And the air seemed to be getting colder.

***

Long after they’d moved beyond the sound of the bats, Evan still had an ache in his chest and a tightness in his shoulders.

Helen still trotted ahead of him purposefully, as if she knew exactly where they were headed. He was willing to believe she did, although he didn’t have a clue himself.

His flashlight beam seemed slightly dimmer. If he didn’t find Rose soon—or at least get a clue about where she was—they’d be in darkness. He didn’t like to think about what could happen then.

He raised his flashlight slightly, checking for doors, and almost ran into Helen.

She was standing frozen in the middle of the passage. A low rumbling sound from her throat made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Her lips were pulled back, exposing her massive teeth and jaws.

An answering rumble came from the darkness in front of them.

Helen stalked forward slowly, her eyes fastened on something ahead. He raised the flashlight high, illuminating the passage.

A massive gray wolf crouched ten feet ahead of them, waiting.

He was bigger than Helen, which meant he was considerably bigger than he’d ever been in Evan’s dreams. The animal’s shoulders might have touched his rib cage, assuming that Evan would ever be stupid enough to let the wolf get that close.

It opened its mammoth jaws, snarling more loudly now. Helen answered him, her back hair bristling, her legs tensed in a crouch.

Evan’s heart thumped painfully as he watched. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can talk you out of this.”

The snarling reached a crescendo, both animals baring their fangs. And then Helen leaped, her long legs pumping upward.

The wolf was ready for her, fastening his teeth in her shoulder and pulling her down. Their two immense bodies rolled across the floor, filling the hallway with the sounds of their struggle.

The animals separated briefly, baring their fangs again, their snarls echoing, then flew back together, jaws snapping, each trying to catch the other by the throat. The bodies rolled away in the dust.

And suddenly the way ahead was clear.

Evan stared at the empty passage and then back at the struggling canines. “No, Helen,” he whispered. “No. I can’t leave you here.”

For a moment, he almost thought she glanced at him. And then she was pressing the wolf back again, her coat dappled with blood, trying to herd him back down the passage away from Evan as the animal tore at her flesh.

Go.

He stared. For a brief moment, Helen glared back at him with burning eyes.

Go now!

He took a quick shuddering breath, then turned and ran up the passage, away from the sounds of death. Around one corner, then another, then one more. Until he could no longer hear the fight. No longer see what Helen was doing to save his miserable life.
And Rose. Remember Rose.

He stood in the middle of the passage for a moment, his eyes closed tight, gasping for breath. “Okay. I understand. We’ll stop him.”

Chapter 27

Rose could swear she heard animals growling, closer now than the bird cries she’d heard earlier. The hallway seemed darker, too, the windows further apart than they’d been before.

A part of her wanted to stop, to stay right where she was and hope that Evan would find her. But she knew that couldn’t happen. “Got to save yourself, Rosie,” she murmured. “Can’t wait for somebody else to do it.”

She came to another turning in the hallway that opened out into a V. From one branch, she could still hear some distant animal noises, while the other seemed to turn back in the general direction from which she’d come.

Oh, marvelous.
She didn’t particularly want to face whatever was snarling up ahead, but going back was definitely not a good idea.

She stood poised at the intersection, listening to the growls crescendo deeper in the passage. Something screamed in agony—and then silence. She shuddered.

Clouds drifted across the moon, casting the floor in near darkness. Rose moved forward cautiously, sliding her feet along the stone floor, trying not to trip.

Now that would be an ignominious end—flat on her face in a hallway. She turned another corner and saw someone standing just ahead.

She could just make out the shape of his shoulders and head. He was holding a light in front of him, throwing his figure into silhouette. Rose slipped back against the wall, trying to make herself as flat as possible.

Was it Evan? She couldn’t tell. The shadows concealed the details. The demon? In a new vessel? It was possible. And who knew if Bradford’s minions were human or not?

She pulled the gun from her waistband. Not that she could do much with it, but at least she had the element of surprise on her side. Sort of.

She inched toward him.

***

Evan stared at the room in front of him. A ballroom or possibly a gymnasium. Something very large, anyway. The walls loomed up beside him. Dim moonlight shone from overhead, a skylight somewhere. If he squinted toward the other side, he thought he could see a dim outline.

A door. It looked partially open, faint light shining around the edges. But did it lead toward Rose or away from her?

Helen would know.
He felt a quick pang, which he ruthlessly suppressed. He was on his own. No use wishing for something when he couldn’t do anything about it.

He took a tentative step into the room, holding his flashlight high. Not that it did much good—sort of like lighting a match inside a coal mine. Gray darkness stretched away from him on all sides—the dim skylight far overhead, the glimmering light on the other side of the room even farther away than it had been before.

The floor beneath his feet felt different somehow, more like crumbling stone. He brought the flashlight down so that he could see. An immense tiled mosaic spread away from him. The bits that he could see seemed simultaneously familiar and strange, a circular shape with lines radiating from the center. Some of the tiles had broken loose, leaving holes in the picture.

There was a sudden crunching sound behind him, and Evan whirled.

***

As Rose stepped forward she realized the floor had become unstable. Her foot slipped in the middle of a step, sending her sprawling.

The man came at her, his body still silhouetted against the darkness. But even as Rose fell, she realized there was something familiar about that shape, that stride.

Relief began to warm her chest, but she was almost afraid to trust it. “Evan?”

The man froze, then raised his flashlight so that she could finally see his face. Evan squinted. “Rose? Is that you?”

“Yes.” She pushed herself to her elbows.

“Here, hold this.” Evan handed her a stick of some kind, then took hold of her other hand, pulling her up. They stared at each other for a moment, then he stepped forward and caught her in a rib-crushing embrace.

“Rosie, where have you been?” he murmured, his face pressed against her hair. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You disappeared in that living room.”

“Actually, you’re the one who disappeared.” She snuggled into the shelter of his arms, rubbing her face against his chest. “And then I found Bradford.”

He pulled back so that he was looking at her face. “You did? What did he say?”

“Not much. He was dead. In fact, he looked like he’d been dead for a while.”

“Holy shit.” Evan shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means the demon is loose, maybe vessel surfing. It means there are probably some dangerous things around here.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I’ve already met some of them.”

She waited for him to go on, but he looked away. “Where are we, exactly? Have you found any way out of here?”

He held the flashlight up again. “
Here
is some room that’s been created for our amusement. Or our confusion. The demon’s got some kind of illusion going—it’s like a supernatural fun house.
Out
is maybe over there on the far side, although that might be an illusion, too.”

He gestured toward the far end of the room where she could just make out a dim square outlined against the darkness.

“A door?”

“Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. Somehow the demon’s gotten access to my dreams. Elements from them keep showing up here.”

Rose grimaced. “Terrific. Well, at least as far as I can tell, he hasn’t managed to tap into mine yet.”

He hugged her close again. The warmth from his body spread through her chilled skin. “Christ, I’m glad to see you. It felt like we’d been looking for you for hours.”

“We? I forgot. Where’s Helen? And Lenore?”

He stood still for a moment, staring off into the darkness, then turned back to her, his eyes somber. “They didn’t make it, Rose. He killed them. I’m sorry.”

Tears pricked her eyelids.
Ridiculous.
They weren’t real animals, after all. And they were just visiting. “What happened?”

“We ran into trouble. Booby traps that were supposed to take me out. The two of them saved me. They were warriors,” he said slowly.

Her temples began to throb. “Are we going to have to fight our way out?”

“Maybe. We need to keep going. For now, let’s just see if we can get across this room.” He glanced down at her hand. “What’s that?”

Belatedly, she remembered the gun. “I found it—one of Grandma Caroline’s gifts, I guess. Don’t know if it works or not. What’s this?” She handed him back the stick.

“A walking stick. Another gift.”

The corners of her mouth inched up. “So you get to do a Volksmarch and I get to be Annie Oakley?”

He gave her a dry smile. “Apparently. Why don’t you put that thing away, so we can try to get out of here?”

She tucked the gun in her waistband again as he took back his walking stick, then turned toward the distant door. Evan held the flashlight high enough so that they could see the floor ahead of them. Slowly they began to move toward the light.

***

Rose put a hand on his arm, moving cautiously across the cracked tile. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Her very full, cherry-red lower lip. He was sort of surprised that he could see her that well in the dim light. He’d forgotten just how luscious those lips were.

Evan felt a jolt of heat.
Terrific. Wonderful time to get a boner.

She loosened her grip marginally, following him as he found a path across the cracked mosaic. “Is it just me or is it getting lighter in here?”

He handed her the flashlight and peered ahead. In front of them, the darkness had dimmed to pale gray. “It’s definitely lighter than it was. I think we still need the light, though.”

“What is this a picture of?” She glanced down at the scattered tiles on the floor. “It’s huge.”

He shook his head, holding the flashlight high again so they could see more of the floor. “It’s pretty broken up, but the pattern looks familiar. Sort of.”

Rose squinted into the distance as they moved over the tiles. “I can’t see enough of it to make the whole thing out. Just a circle with some lines in the middle. What does that mean?”

“You think it’s important?”

“Probably not. Just another thing that doesn’t make sense. This room is in really lousy shape, you know?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Up to now the place has been sort of your basic haunted mansion. Now it’s more like a ruin. I don’t know if that’s significant or not.”

“Me neither.” She glanced around the room again, then caught her breath. “I know what it is. The picture, I mean. I can see it now.” She pointed a few feet ahead of them. “That’s the center.”

“The center of what?” He kept moving while he spoke—he had a feeling it wasn’t a good idea to slow down. The light from overhead had turned to silver now.

“The web.” Her voice rose in excitement. “It’s a spiderweb. Look. There’s the center and the threads move out from it.” She drew lines in the air with her index finger.

He stopped, feeling ice slide down his backbone. “Spiderweb?”

“Yes. See?” She pointed again.

He followed the line of her finger.
Yes.
A fan of threads stretched out from a spiraled center a few feet ahead of them. Unquestionably, inescapably, it was a mosaic of a spiderweb.

She turned, pointing back to where they’d just come from. “See? It stretches all the way back to the far side.”

Evan wasn’t listening. He’d just seen a shadow move across the lighted door.

A very large shadow.

“Rose, listen to me.” He grabbed her shoulders. “If you hear someone—or some
thing
—call your name, don’t look at it, okay?”

“Don’t look back?”

“Or forward or sideways. Just don’t look at anyone who calls you, whoever it is. Period.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Is there any particular reason I need to be reminded about this right now?”

“God, I hope not.” He turned off the flashlight and tucked it into his belt—the room seemed bright enough now without it. And he had a feeling he might need both hands soon.

He heard a sound then, a faint tapping, growing slowly into a clicking, like a cricket. Or a deathwatch beetle.

Cut it out!
He moved toward the door, towing Rose by the arm, although he was no longer sure they’d be able to get through it. He knew what lay behind them, though, and going back didn’t seem like an option, either.

“Evan,” she whispered. “There’s something in the doorway.”

“I know.” He swallowed hard. “Whatever’s there, we’ll have to get by it. Or go through it. Keep hanging onto me, Rosie.”

“Right.” Her voice sounded small in the immense space of the room that echoed now with clicking.

“Rosssse,” something whispered suddenly, a dry echoing voice that seemed part of the clicking and yet distinct from it. Evan stopped, frozen.

“Did you hear that?” she gasped.

He nodded, then took hold of her shoulders and turned her around so that her back was to the door. He stepped in front of her, back-to-back, lacing the fingers of one hand through hers, holding the walking stick in his other. “Stay like this. Don’t turn around no matter what happens. No matter what, Rose!”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice suddenly small.

He fastened his gaze on the doorway, although he already knew what would be coming through it. He had one last dream monster to confront, the worst one, the one that always left him sweaty and gasping after its visits. The one he’d really hoped they wouldn’t meet here.

Vain hope!

One long, heavily furred leg stretched through the open door, striped bright red and black. Then another followed, a third, a fourth, and the body came as well, so that he could see the whole thing. The nightmare.

The spider was a dead ringer for Augie Garcia’s tarantula. Elongated bulbous body, heavy with brownish fuzz, angled legs, a corona of eyes gleaming on the front of what passed for its face. Like all the other animals in the dungeon, it was several times as big as it had been in his dreams. Its legs were bulging furry fence posts, supporting a body the size of a sofa. Its eyes glowed with green light.

Evan stood rigid. His breath caught in his throat as his stomach heaved. He grasped Rose’s fingers convulsively in one hand, fighting down the overwhelming urge to run, while his fingers tightened on his stick.

His stick.
Damn.
He should have taken Rose’s gun. On the other hand, judging from the size of the spider, he doubted a gun would slow it down.

“What is it?” she asked, her head moving restlessly against his shoulders.

“An illusion. Just like the others. The demon’s game.”
Yeah, Evan, keep saying that. Convince yourself that it won’t jump on you like a housefly.

He closed his eyes and opened them again on the off chance that the spider might disappear. It didn’t.

“Run,” the spider hissed. “Run now!”

He shook his head, stiffly. “Helen and Lenore didn’t run. Neither will I.” Even if he ended up the same way they had.

“Asss you wissssh,” the spider hissed again.

It moved toward them with its odd, scuttling spider gait, eight legs working in mysterious concert. He fought the impulse to close his eyes again. He had to watch, to see where it went. It stopped a few feet away from him, then raised its two front legs. The legs ended in hooks, he realized—sharp upturned hooks.

Its mouth opened. He could see the fangs—long and pointed, designed to inject venom. “Don’t turn around, Rosie. No matter what happens.”

The spider’s mouth opened wider. “Rose,” it called, “Rosie. Thank God, I found you!”

Evan blinked. His voice. The spider was using his voice. It sounded exactly like him.

“Evan?” Rose gasped.

“What are you doing with him? Rosie, that’s the demon. He’s holding onto you. Rosie, he wants to kill you! He took my shape back in the hall. Drop his hands—get away from him while you can! Run to me. I’ll protect you.”

Evan felt Rose’s head roll against his shoulders again. “No,” he snapped. “Don’t fall for this. He’s trying to get you to look at him. It’s all a trick.” He tightened his fingers on hers.

“You don’t buy that, do you, Rose? That calling-ghost crap? Come on, it’s just a trap to get you to come with him, so that he can take you away. He wants you dead.” The spider’s eyes glittered.