The First Confessor (26 page)

A cry of anguish for Isidore caught in Magda’s throat as she struggled to run. The cat appeared out of the dark doorway and raced after her.

In a daze, Magda stumbled as she ran. Tears streamed down her face. Blood dripped from her fist holding the knife. Glancing down at her arms, she thought it looked as if she had just butchered someone.

As she ran, she struggled to comprehend what she had just seen. She knew that something only remotely human, or maybe only once human, had just slaughtered Isidore. It made no sense.

It was such a horrific sight, such a shock, that she was already questioning if she had really seen what she knew she had seen when she had looked into the man’s face. She began to wonder if it could have been a trick of the shadows.

But she knew it wasn’t.

She cried out in fright when she suddenly ran into one of the walls of hanging cloth. It caught her, flapping around her like arms grabbing for her. She slashed wildly with her knife, frantically trying to get away from what she thought for a second was the man who had killed Isidore trying to seize her.

She shoved the cloth aside and started running. She could only see a short distance ahead into the empty maze of halls.

She looked down as she ran, fumbling with the lantern door, trying to get it open so that she could see better. It finally sprang open, casting a bit of useful light into the passageway.

She realized that, lost in the maze as she was, she would soon be the next victim of the thing that had killed Isidore. It was coming for her. If she was wandering around aimlessly it would likely be able to catch her in short order.

Magda thrust a hand into her pocket, frantically searching for the map that Tilly had given her. She dug around with trembling fingers but couldn’t find the map. She didn’t know if she’d dropped it as she was running, or if she’d lost it in the fight. All she knew for sure was that the map wasn’t in her pocket.

She turned back the way she had come, holding the lantern up, trying to see if she had dropped the map when she had fought her way out of the embrace of the hanging cloth. She didn’t see it on the ground anywhere.

She heard a sound. She thought she saw a dark shape move back in the direction she’d come from.

Then she saw the glow of his eyes off in the darkness, like some goblin from her childhood nightmares come to life.

Magda abandoned the search for the map and started running. She knew that it was foolish to run in a maze without knowing where she was going, but she was too panicked to stop herself.

Besides, what choice did she have?

She ran with wild abandon, taking random passageways at intersections. From time to time she could hear the dead man in the distance behind her. He let out a growl of rage as he came, his feet sometimes dragging on the floor. Magda ran all the faster, imagining the goblin from her nightmares hot on her heels. She knew that she didn’t stand a chance fighting against him. She had to get away.

She was suddenly brought up short in a dead end. She spun around and saw the man step into the passageway from a side hall, blocking her way back. Magda stood panting, knife clenched tightly in her fist, trying to decide what to do.

His glowing eyes watched her, and then he started toward her. As he got closer, the cat sprang out of the darkness onto the man’s head, clawing at his gleaming eyes with wild fury. He twisted to the side, his arms thrashing, trying to swipe the cat off his head.

Magda knew that it was her only chance. She didn’t hesitate. She ran toward the man and the only way out. As she reached him, she bent low and slammed her shoulder into his ribs, knocking him to the side. He lost his balance and fell against the wall.

Pain shot through her shoulder from the solid impact with his rocklike torso. Magda was already past him and running at full speed as the cat sprang off the man and raced after her.

Magda took intersection after intersection, ducking around heavy panels of hanging cloth whenever they appeared unexpectedly out of the darkness. She didn’t know where she was or how to escape the maze. She was simply trying to lose the man close on her heels. The man who had killed Isidore.

Charging down a long hallway, she suddenly came upon another hanging cloth that loomed up out of the darkness. Magda pushed it to the side with an arm as she went around it. When she did so, she realized that it was different from the others she had encountered. Unlike the others, this one was light and airy.

Almost immediately, before she could wonder at the silken nature of the cloth, she saw in the weak lantern light that it was a dead end. She couldn’t go any farther.

Magda spun around. The man had already reached the other side of the cloth wall blocking the passageway. It was too late to go back the way she had come.

The man slowed. He had her trapped in a dead end.

Magda stood frozen in panic, gulping air. She could see the reddish glow of his eyes through the gauzy cloth.

She had nowhere to run.

Magda could see his boots just on the other side of the hanging cloth. Her back was to the wall at the dead end of the corridor. The delicate cloth hung perfectly still, not three paces away from her.

She tried to think what to do, how she could get away. She thought that maybe, if he came around one side, she could dash out the other side at the same time and run.

But where? She didn’t have the map. She realized, then, that even if she had the map it likely wouldn’t do her much good. There was really no way to run and read the map at the same time. It had been hard enough to decipher when she had been able to stand still, study it, and count intersections.

The truth was she was lost in the maze. A maze designed to attract the spirits of the dead. Magda didn’t think that this man, or creature, or whatever it was, had been what Isidore had been trying to attract, but in dealing with dark forces perhaps she had inadvertently gotten the attention of things she hadn’t intended to attract.

An arm thrust around the cloth, clawing at the air, as if trying to feel around to find her, hoping to snag flesh.

Magda pressed her back against the wall behind, trying to stay as far away from the sweep of the clawed hand as possible. The cloth was sheer enough that had there been light beyond in the tunnel she would probably have been able to see the man through it. With her lantern, she thought that he could probably see her. She turned the lantern window aside, hoping not to illuminate herself for him.

She leaned to the side away from the arm reaching blindly for her and carefully peered through the small gap between the wall and the other end of the cloth. The hall wasn’t as wide as some. She could see that if she went for the gap opposite the man he would likely be able to reach over and grab her.

Again he swung the arm, groping into the dead end, trying to catch her up. She was far enough away from where he was standing, though, that he couldn’t reach her.

But as soon as he came around the flimsy, hanging cloth, he would be able to snatch her unless she could somehow get past him as he came for her. She was fast, but from what she had seen back in Isidore’s place, he was faster. Making it worse, the hall wasn’t very wide. There was no maneuvering room.

Magda wondered how long it would be until he came around and had her. She kept imagining being ripped open the way he had ripped open Isidore. She knew that the end was going to come at any moment.

But instead, he moved to the other side of the cloth, reaching around with his other hand, clawing the air on that side. He didn’t even lean over and look around, probably because his glowing eyes could see her on the other side of the cloth. She could see those eyes clearly enough, and they only added to her terror.

Even as she gasped for air, trying to get her breath as she struggled to figure out what to do, Magda frowned. Why didn’t he simply come around the cloth to get her? It was obvious that he knew she was back there.

He roared in frustration, slashing wildly, blindly, around the side of the cloth. He raced over to the other side, trying again to reach back and snag her. But he wasn’t leaning in far enough to get to her. She couldn’t imagine why not.

It seemed like the silky cloth was somehow keeping him back.

Magda wondered . . . could it be?

She remembered Isidore saying that some of the spells on the hanging fabric were her own creation. Isidore knew more about the underworld and the dead than most people.

Magda held the lantern up. She could see then, through the diaphanous cloth, besides his glowing eyes, that there were symbols all over the other side. They were drawn rather crudely with what looked to be a thin wash of paint that wrinkled the fabric. Magda could see that they were definitely spell-forms. She tried to picture in her mind what they would look like if she were on the other side and wasn’t looking at them backward.

She had frequently seen Baraccus draw spells. She tried to think if she recognized these drawn spells. They were unusual; they didn’t look like anything she had ever seen Baraccus draw.

The man lunged, reaching around the side, grasping empty air with his clawed fingers. Magda ducked in and jabbed at the filmy cloth, pushing it toward him. He stepped back with a surprised, angry growl, then raced to the other side to try again to reach around and get her while she was close.

Magda remembered Isidore saying that the spells she had drawn were born of her work as a spiritist, and that they were both powerful and significant.

Magda remembered Isidore saying
The dead must heed them
.

The man on the other side hadn’t yet tried to come past the cloth but he showed no signs of giving up. She knew that he would not leave until he had her. If anything, he was getting ever more frantic to reach her.

There was no telling when or if someone, someone like a wizard, would be coming down to the maze to see Isidore. But even if someone did come to visit the spiritist, it was possible that they wouldn’t come this way. The maze was a sprawling complex. For all Magda knew, she could be far off the regular route in. Even if someone did come to see Isidore, they might never come this way and happen across Magda.

Worse, even if someone did come this way they very likely would be killed just as swiftly as Isidore had been murdered. Isidore had used powerful magic and it hadn’t saved her.

Magda could be stuck down in the deserted tunnels forever, with the crazed killer ready to strike at any moment. For all she knew it was possible that his fear of the symbols on the cloth might only be a stopgap measure that wouldn’t hold him back for long. Once he got past that thin piece of cloth, it would be a horrific, painful death.

Magda realized that if she was going to escape certain death, she was going to have to get away on her own.

She had an idea. An idea she didn’t like one bit.

With her heart pounding nearly out of control, she clutched the knife tighter in her fist.

She didn’t see that she had a choice.

As the man beyond the hanging cloth moved from one side to the other, when he was about in the middle, Magda shoved the cloth toward him as hard as she could. Through the cloth, she could feel his body on the other side. His middle didn’t feel at all soft like a living person’s. It felt more like a tree trunk.

He roared at the contact with the thin cloth and stepped back. Recovering quickly, he lunged to one side, his arm coming around, trying to grab her as she was still pushing at the cloth. His clawed hand caught a few strands of her short hair. Magda jerked her head away before he could get a better grasp.

As he reached, sweeping the air, trying for more of her hair, Magda used all her strength to stab the blade deep into his hand. The blade pierced through his palm, coming out the back of his hand. He didn’t cry out in pain, but instead yanked the hand back, pulling it off the blade to free it. He shoved the hand back toward her, sure that she was close and he would get her when she stabbed at him again.

Magda used the opening as he was occupied in reaching for her, thinking he had her, to race to the other side of the fabric panel. Without pause, she shot around the cloth. His dark shape turned abruptly when he saw her dash past him.

Magda sprinted at full speed down the corridor, too frightened to look back. But she didn’t need to look back. She could hear him coming. As hard has she ran, she could hear him getting ever closer. He was as tireless as he was powerful.

Magda ducked around another hanging and took a turn to the right, then at the next intersection another right, then a left, in her mind marking the turns she took. The heavy hangings she encountered along the way didn’t seem to trouble him the way the wispy one at the dead end had. He kept coming.

Even holding the lantern out as she ran, she still couldn’t see very far ahead. She feared that she would run into another dead end, but one without the protective cloth, and then he would have her trapped.

As intersections appeared she took them at random and without hesitation, but still took note of each turn in case she came to a dead end and had to retrace her steps. As fast as she was running, and the way he was getting closer all the time, she knew that if she came upon another dead end, it would likely be the end of her. Even so, she knew that she couldn’t afford to slow for anything.

Despite her fear, despite how hard she ran to escape, she couldn’t keep the horrific memories of Isidore being slaughtered out of her mind. She knew that she had to think, but the thought of such a fate also happening to her was filling her mind. She could only imagine the pain and the terror of such a death. The only mercy was that it had been swift.

Magda looked up when she heard the cat yowl. The cat, a bit out ahead, turned back toward her. When Magda met the cat’s gaze, the cat took a side passageway and started running.