The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (19 page)

“Thanks,” Garrett said.

Scupp looked at him with genuine concern. “Just… be careful, Garrett,” she said.

“I will,” he answered softly.

Scupp’s eyes suddenly hardened. “Just so you know,” she said, “if she ever hurts you, Ima tear her arms off… vampire or not.”

Garrett gave the ghoul a nervous smile.

Scupp gave him a long, hard look and then turned her attention back to the tunnel below. “I don’t think he’s gonna show up tonight,” she sighed.

Just then, a bone-chilling shriek ripped through the tunnels from the south, and Garrett and Scupp both jumped in alarm.

A ghoulish roar followed it.

“Diggs!” Scupp gasped, and she scrambled down the tunnel with Garrett close on her heels.

They found Diggs and Warren in the southern tunnel juncture, both of them wild-eyed and perched atop the broken body of a great stone statue. Pinned face-down beneath it, the black-handed man with the leather mask wriggled and thrashed. He struggled in vain to free his legs and let out a high-pitched shriek of pain and rage.

“I got him!” Diggs shouted.

The man braced his black hands against the floor and pushed hard, lifting the massive stone and sending Diggs tumbling off the top. Warren growled and threw himself flat across the stone, crushing the strange man back to the tunnel floor once again.

Scupp raced forward and leapt atop the statue as well, her weight driving a pitiful huff of air from the masked man’s lungs.

“Don’t kill him!” Garrett shouted. He ran forward, getting as close as he dared to the masked man.

The man saw Garrett and lashed out with one hand, his blackened fingers curved like talons. Garrett yelped in alarm and jumped back, staring down at three parallel slashes across the front of his robe.

“Get back!” Warren yelled.

By now, Diggs had regained his footing and climbed back atop the broken statue, pinning the masked man even tighter to the floor.

“We got you now, Roach Boy!” Warren shouted.

“Yeah!” Diggs added, “So tell us where the treasure is, or we’ll squish you flat!”

Garrett, Warren, and Scupp all stared at Diggs with baffled expressions on their faces. The masked man hissed like a viper.

Diggs shrugged. “
I don’t know
,” he whined, “I was just gonna catch him. That’s as far as I thought this out.”

Warren rolled his eyes and then leaned over to shout down at the man pinned beneath the statue, “Who sent you?”

The masked man suddenly fell silent, his body going completely limp.

“Oh no!” Garrett gasped. He took as step toward the man again, fearing that he had died from his injuries.

“Stay back, Gar!” Warren barked, and Garrett froze.

A muffled pop sounded from the man’s body as he moved again, slowly twisting his neck around until his head was turned almost completely backward to look up at Warren who was leaning out over the shoulder of the statue to gaze down wide-eyed. The masked man giggled a hissing laugh as the great shaggy ghoul recoiled in horror.

“What is that thing?” Scupp asked, and Garrett could hear the fear in her voice.

“Look, we don’t want to hurt you!” Garrett shouted, “We just want to know who sent you.”

The masked man rotated his head back around to stare at Garrett through his thick goggles. He studied the boy for a moment and then whispered, “
Garrett
.”

Garrett blanched in fear, taking another step back. “How do you know my name?” he demanded.

“Hinder me not in my task,” the man rasped, “You will not be warned again.”

“Who are you?” Garrett shouted.

Suddenly, Warren, who had carefully leaned out over the shoulder of the statue while the man was speaking, reached down and caught the strap of the man’s leather mask in his claw. He snatched it away quickly, tearing the mask and goggles from the man’s head.

Garrett cried out in horror at the sight of the man’s face. The man’s long fangs gnashed in rage, and the wide, black pupils of his eyes suddenly flashed red and constricted to thin slits between coppery irises before he could protect them from the dim light of the tunnel by covering them with his hands. His hairless scalp, mottled in scale-like patterns of red and black skin, seemed to change in hue, matching the greenish tint of the broken stone statue, before returning to their original color.

“What are you?” Garrett gasped.

The man shut his eyes tightly and stretched his body, craning his neck upward as he pulled against the burden of the stone upon his back. He hissed loudly, and then a series of sickening crunching sounds came from beneath the stone.

“No! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Garrett cried.

The man’s eyes went suddenly wide as he shoved hard with his hands against the floor, and his lower torso pulled free of the statue, his leggings ripped and dark with blood.

Garrett felt suddenly sick at the sight of the man’s broken legs trailing behind him as he dragged himself away with his spindly arms.

“Don’t let him get away!” Diggs shouted as he leapt down from the broken statue onto the man’s back.

The ghoul tried to hold him, but the man slipped free, moving with frightening speed as he scurried away on his hands, dragging his legs behind him like a lizard’s tail. Garrett jumped out of the way as the man shot past him toward the mouth of a narrow drainpipe. By the time he had turned to watch him go, the man’s bloody feet were already disappearing through the mouth of the pipe.

Diggs shoved past Garrett and flung himself down, thrusting his arm into the pipe as far as it would go.

“Damn!” Diggs hissed, pulling back an empty paw from the pipe.

“How did he know my name?” Garrett asked, looking back toward Warren and Scupp who were still perched atop the statue with their mouths hanging open.

“I think we’re gonna need some help with this one,” Scupp said.

“Yeah,” Warren agreed, looking down at the mask and goggles that he still clutched in his hand, “Uh, Garrett, you know any vampires that might wanna go huntin' with us?”

Garrett looked back at the black mouth of the drainpipe and shook his head. “How did he know my name?” he whispered.

Garrett stirred in a troubled sleep, trying to hack away the great serpent that had been coiled around his leg in the dream a moment before. He woke himself with a hard slap to his thigh, the sting of it rousing his brain to alertness, though his body still burned with exhaustion. For a moment, he sat on the edge of his bed, swooning, almost falling back into the soft blanket and pillow that beckoned him to return. He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger and forced himself to his feet. The morning chimes had just sounded, and, if he hurried, he could make it to the temple early enough to seek out Serepheni before class.

He dressed quickly and stooped to pick up the bundled mask and goggles that he had left on the floor outside his bedroom door. He had been far too unsettled by these reminders of the previous day’s encounter with the snake-eyed man to sleep in the same room with them.

He hurried through the gray morning drizzle to arrive at the temple with plenty of time to spare and hurried toward the small walled garden where Serepheni would sometimes meditate privately before her morning duties. He paused as he reached the little iron gate in the ivy-covered walls, hearing the priestess’s girlish laughter echoing from the garden beyond. She said something that Garrett could not quite make out, and then a soft voice answered her, a man’s voice.

Garrett hesitated, thinking of turning back, not wanting to interrupt, but he decided that his message was too important to wait.

“Excuse me,” Garrett said, the gate creaking slightly as he pushed it open.

“Garrett?” Serepheni called out.

“Yes, Matron Serepheni,” he answered, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had something important to tell you.”

“Come in,” she said, “Join us!”

Garrett entered the garden and turned the corner to find Serepheni seated at a small table, sheltered beneath a carved wooden awning that jutted out from the wall. A modest breakfast was laid out before her with cups and plates for two. The man across from her rose to greet Garrett as he entered.

“Garrett!” Marsten exclaimed, “So good to see you again!” The young necromancer inclined his head slightly. He wore his curly blonde hair pinned back with a long jade needle, and his burgundy coat sported a lapel of emerald green silk.

“Master Marsten,” Garrett said, bowing to him only after he had shown the proper obeisance to Matron Serepheni. Garrett’s eyes went to the vase of fresh flowers on the table between them, and an uncomfortable feeling stirred in Garrett’s gut.

“Please, have a seat,” Serepheni said, gesturing toward the one untaken chair at the table.

“Thanks,” Garrett said, taking a seat as Marsten sat back down, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I didn’t think this could wait ‘till later.”

“What is it?” Serepheni asked.

“I, uh…” Garrett said, laying the mask and goggles on the table next to the flowers, “I think we found the spy that the High Priestess was looking for.”

Marsten’s eyes widened, and he seemed visibly shaken as he stared down at the mask.

“What is it?” Serepheni asked, looking at the blonde necromancer, “Do you recognize this?”

Marsten looked at her, his lips parting as though to speak. Then his eyes went to the mask again. “I’ve seen this before,” he said, “Well… something like it.”

“Do you have this spy in custody?” Serepheni asked Garrett.

“No, Matron,” Garrett answered, “He got away from us, but Warren was able to grab this from him before he escaped. Underneath, he was like some kinda snake man or somethin’.”

“Snake man?” Serepheni laughed, “Garrett, are you certain of this?”

“No, he’s right,” Marsten said, his voice subdued. He still stared down at the mask and goggles on the table before him.

Garrett and Serepheni both looked at Marsten in amazement.

“You know who the spy is?” she demanded.

Marsten looked at her for a moment and then at the mask again. “I know
what
he is,” he answered.

“Is he really a snake man?” Garrett asked.

“He is a member of an ancient cult,” Marsten said, “I encountered them once during my travels. They come from somewhere in Neshat, no one knows exactly where… rumors of an ancient temple hidden somewhere in the jungle. They are death-worshippers and master assassins. They may have once been human men, but they are no longer.”

“Are they here to kill someone then?” Serepheni gasped.

Marsten gave a nervous laugh. “Perhaps not,” he said, “The cult prides itself on its efficiency. If they wanted to kill someone, I imagine that person would already be dead. It is possible that this agent was sent here as a spy in the employ of someone else.”

“They hire themselves out as mercenaries?” Serepheni asked.

Marsten smiled. “I suppose those ancient jungle temples require a bit of upkeep now and again,” he laughed.

“Garrett, you could have been hurt!” Serepheni chided him, “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner and ask for help?”

“I’m sorry,” Garrett said, “We just weren’t sure that he was sneaking into the temple, or even that he was a spy. We’d never even got a good look at him until yesterday.”

“He was in the temple?” Serepheni gasped.

Garrett nodded. “We think he was headed there when we caught him… well, tried to catch him.”

“I must inform the High Priestess at once!” Serepheni said, standing up from her chair.

Marsten rose with her. “Are you sure we shouldn’t look into this ourselves first?” he asked. “I could help Garrett in his search. I do have experience in this sort of thing.”

“Thank you, but I’d prefer you both stay out of this,” Serepheni said, “I don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

“Of, course, my dear,” Marsten said, bowing his head slightly, “As you wish.”

“Garrett,” she said, picking up the mask and goggles from the table, “May I take these as evidence?”

“Yeah,” Garrett said, getting to his feet again.

“Thank you,” she said, “We are in your debt once again.” She gave him a warm smile.

Serepheni turned and nodded to Marsten. “I’m sorry to have to cut our meeting short,” she said, “I hope we can continue our discussion at some later time.”

“Of course,” Marsten answered. He gave her a deep bow. “I look forward to our next visit with exquisite anticipation.”

Serepheni smiled again and took her leave, heading toward the main temple with the mask and goggles in hand, leaving Garrett and Marsten alone in the garden.

Marsten watched her go and then turned to Garrett again. “You’re looking well, Garrett,” he said, “I haven’t seen you in some time.”

“Thanks,” Garrett said, his eyes going to the flowers on the table again.

“Oh… those,” Marsten chuckled, “Dreadfully bad manners to visit a lady without bringing flowers, wouldn’t you say?”