The League of Doorways (A Book of Vampires, Werewolves & Black Magic) (The Doorways Trilogy - Book Two) (6 page)

Chapter Ten

Zach lay huddled next to his companions and held his breath. He willed himself to stay still, to not move an inch, as he heard those freaky cops marching towards him in the dark. If they had been prepared to murder the hermit for scavenging without permission, what would they do to Zachary and his friends should they be discovered? Bom’s heart slammed away beneath his metal breastplate. Neanna’s heart made a ‘boom-boom’ sound in her ears. It was so loud, she was convinced that they would hear its bloody beat.

As they marched closer to the rocks, Zach released the catch on his holster and drew one of his crossbows. Zach’s left arm was pressed against Bom and he could feel him trembling. Zach couldn’t hear a sound from Faraday, not even his breathing. But then again, did he breathe like the rest of them, Zach wondered. Was he dependent on lungfuls of oxygen to stay alive? Wasn’t he a machine after all?

The freaky cops’ footfalls stopped suddenly, as the sound of rustling could be heard a few feet from where Zach and his friends lay. Torchlight suddenly lit up the ground, only inches from Zach’s head. The light from their torches swept quickly by Zach and his friends, and then stopped.

“It’s just a desert rat,” one of them said
, wheezing behind his respirator.

“Are you sure?” asked one of the others.

“It’s gone now.”

There was silence for a moment. Then, “Let’s keep moving.”

Zach continued to lay in the dark behind the rocks. He listened as they mounted the strange tiger-bikes. The sound of the bikes firing up was like a pack of tigers roaring in the night. Then they were gone, the noise of their metal paws bounding away into the dark. 

Faraday got to his feet and peered about. Feeling secure that the immediate area was
free from danger, he said, “Let’s go.”

Without any hesitation, the others got to their feet and followed him out from behind the rocks. Neanna headed over to the hermit who lay lifelessly on the ground, his face covered with sand, which blew across the floor of the desert.

Then looking back at Faraday, Neanna said, “You’re a doctor, right?”

Faraday just nodded his head.

“See what you can do to help this man, Faraday,” she said.

Faraday knelt down beside the hermit, and taking hold of the hermit’s bony wrist, he felt for a pulse.

“Is he dead?” Zach asked, peering over Faraday’s shoulder. 

“No, he still has a faint pulse,” Faraday replied without a hint of emotion in his voice. He then reached into one of his coat pockets and rummaged around. After some searching, he produced a silver-looking object, which looked similar to a thimble. Faraday brushed the dust and sand from the man’s narrow chest, and then pulled the stake from the wound that pumped blood in a thick, black stream. He held it up to reveal that the metal tip of the stake was still lodged in the hermit’s chest. Faraday then placed the silver-looking thimble thing onto the hermit’s naked chest, covering the wound. Then, to Zach’s wonder and disbelief, the thimble-thing sprouted four little metal talons, two on either side. The thimble then began to spin round as it bored its way into the wound. Zach and the others watched as it disappeared into the hermit’s chest and out of sight. Zach glanced at William
, who looked completely stunned.

“What’s
that
?” Zach asked Faraday in amazement.

“It’s called a surgery-spider,” he said back.

“A surgery-spider?” William woofed.

Then glancing back at Zach, Faraday said, “It’s similar to the keyhole surgery procedures they carry out on the sick on your side of the doorways. It painlessly enters the
body and removes tumors, foreign objects…”

“Like the tip of a stake?” Zach breathed in wonder.

“Exactly…and then it repairs any damage to tissue,” Faraday explained.

“Will he survive then?” William was desperate to know.

“Maybe…but then again, maybe not,” Faraday replied, as he studied his patient. “It all depends how much damage has been caused inside. The surgery-spider’s good…but it can’t perform miracles.”

Zach and his friends watched in wonder as the top of the surgery-spider resurfaced and crawled away from the wound, settling on the hermit’s stomach. Its minute legs retracted and became still. Faraday plucked it off the man’s body. He turned it upside down, and Zach watched as the pointed tip of the stake rolled from the surgery-spider and into the palm of Faraday’s hand. He threw the tip away, placed the surgery-spider back into his coat pocket
, and produced a bottle of clear liquid. He poured some of this onto the wound, and it oozed from the bottle like runny jelly. It plopped onto the hermit’s chest and began to fizz and smoke.

“It’s burning him!” Bom hissed.

“Just watch,” Faraday assured him.

The thick, gooey liquid began to froth, bubble
, and then gradually dissolve into the man’s skin, taking with it the crimson coloured hole that the stake had made. Zach looked in awe, as there was no sign, no mark, in fact not even the smallest of scratches to show that this man had ever been shot.

Faraday briefly checked the hermit’s pulse again, placed the bottle of goo back into his pocket
, and stood up.

“What is this thing?” Neanna suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Zach glanced over at the odd-looking car. He moved towards it, then realised, like the tiger-bikes he had seen, this wasn’t a car at all – but what appeared to be a giant beetle. Zach stood with his mouth open as he looked at its sleek design. It was hump-shaped with a hard shell, which shone black and turquoise beneath the moon. Instead of wheels, it had three black, bony legs which jutted from each side of its body. Where any normal car would have had a bonnet, this had a bulbous black head with two antennas protruding from it and what looked like a crank-handle sticking out front.

Faraday strode over
, and with one hand, he lifted back the creature’s shell.

“Is this some kinda car?” Zach asked him.

“I guess,” Faraday said. “It’s what happens when technology and creatures get entangled together as they come through the doorways. Cribbot called it a beet-wagon.”

With the shell slid back, Zach peered inside. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” he cried, as he saw the seats, the dashboard
, and a steering wheel. 

“C’mon,” Faraday urged the others. “Those dead peacekeepers could come back at any moment.”

“Dead peacekeepers?” Neanna asked him.

“Peacekeepers turned bad by black magic,” Faraday said
, climbing in behind the wheel.

As William, Bom
, and Neanna climbed into the back of the car –
creature
– Zach glanced back at the hermit one last time and hoped that he would be okay. It was then he noticed two tiny holes appear in the white blanket of sand that covered his face, as the hermit opened his eyes and looked up at him.

Zach slammed the passenger door shut as Faraday started the creature up. They lurched forward as the beetle shook and made a scuttling noise. The creature seemed to stall, rumble into life again, and then stop altogether.

“Look!” Bom suddenly blasted in Zach’s ear, as he lent forward from the rear of the vehicle and pointed ahead. All of them peered through the black glass windscreen to see the headlights of those tiger-bikes racing back across the desert floor towards them. 

“You’ll have to be patient with me,” Faraday said flatly. “I haven’t driven one of these things for…”

“Patient!” Bom roared again. “My patience is fast running out!”

Faraday pressed down hard on the accelerator, pushed the gear stick into drive
, and they lurched forward again, then came to a shuddering stop. The creature made a mewing noise all around them as if it were in pain. Then they all shrieked as the gaunt and pale face of the hermit appeared on the other side of the windscreen.

“What’s he doing?” Bom cried out in fear.

“How did you ever become a Captain in the Queen’s Royal Guard?” William barked at him.

“He’s trying to start the wagon,” Neanna shouted.

Zach stared out of the windscreen to see the frail-looking man take hold of the crank sticking out the front of the beetle and begin to turn it. There was a clunking sound deep within the creature and again it shuddered violently, throwing Zach and the others forward in their seats.

“What a piece of junk!” Bom snapped.

“Maybe you would like to get out and help him?” William howled as the glare of the approaching tiger-bikes lit up the night.

Bom grunted a response as the hermit turned and turned the crank. The beetle made a sputtering noise, and then burst into life. The wagon scuttled quickly backwards as Faraday yanked on the gearstick.

“Thanks, old man,” Faraday said in his deadpan voice.

“Thank you!” the hermit shouted and raised a set of bony fingers to the place on his
chest, where only minutes before he had a gaping wound.

Knowing that the
hermit had just saved them, Faraday yanked the steering wheel violently to the left and raced away, conscious that the dead peacekeepers would make chase after the beet-wagon, giving the old man a chance to make his escape. Zach glanced back through the black pane of glass fixed into the side of the beetle’s shell, and watched as the tiger-bikes bounded across the desert after them.

Chapter Eleven

Tanner, Anna Black
, and her uncle Fandel were led ashore by Van Demon and his crew. They walked along the wooden quay, the spurs attached to the backs of Tanner’s boots jangling. It was cold and the sun had now set over the Onyx Sea. Its thick, black waves crashed against the white sand, dragging the old debris of sunken ships up onto the shore. The seahorses that had brought the ship – stagecoach – this far, lowered their mighty heads into the water and searched for any food that the sea might offer. Their wild manes floated on the surface like seaweed.

Tanner lent to one side, nursing his wounded shoulder. Anna had snaked her arm about his waist to help him along. Fandel walked beside them, his eyes furtively rolling from side to side as he tried to figure out how he might escape. At the end of the quay, Van Demon led them onto the sand. The shoreline was crescent-shaped, and large, grey sand dunes surrounded it.

With their hands still tied behind their backs, Van Demon stood before them, his decomposing face looking more threadbare than Anna had remembered it to be. “So our little journey across the sea comes to an end, amigos,” he smiled, and Anna could see his tongue through the gaping hole in his cheek. “We have enough horses to take only one of thee. Now lemme see, who will it be? The pretty senorita? Senor uncle or thee peacekeeper?”

“The pretty senorita,” one of the Dammed Bandits leered.

Anna looked at him and could see his lungs expanding in and out behind his ribcage, which had had the flesh gnawed from it.

“Silencio!”
Van Demon roared, raising one decomposing hand in the air. “Si, Si, she is a beautiful senorita and would fetch a great prize. But I’m after a far greater treasure.”

The other bandits stood behind their leader, their axes, knives, and rifles glinting in
the moonlight.

“How about I tell you how to get to the box, and you let me and the girl go,” Fandel whined.

“And what of thee peacekeeper?” Van Demon smiled, that hole in the side of his face flapping open and revealing his rotten teeth.

“Kill him,” Fandel sneered, glancing sideways at Tanner, who stood with his chin resting on his chest.

“Did thee hear that, peacekeeper?” Van Demon chuckled. “Me thinks senor uncle doesn’t like thee very much.”

Then raising his head, Tanner looked at Van Demon and said, “How about you turn around, get back on your boat
, or whatever it is, and leave these shores before every single one of you sorry-looking arseholes dies?”

Clapping his ringed fingers together, Van Demon chuckled and came forward, Julio close behind, his hands pressed over his midriff so as not to spill his guts onto the sand.

“You are very brave or very stupid,” Van Demon mocked.

Tanner stared straight back into Van Demon’s eyes, one of which swiveled in a broken socket.

“I am neither,” Tanner whispered.

Leaning in close so as to hear Tanner, Van Demon said, “Si, it is a shame that thee dislike me so much, peacekeeper. We could have been great – how do you say it – friends.”

“I’m no friend of yours,” Tanner whispered again.

“Me thinks I was going to kill the senorita and senor uncle,” Van Demon explained. “We are heading into the outer-rim where great dangers lie. You have cunning and are quick on the draw
, peacekeeper. You would have made a great companion. We could have shared the power in the box. Si?”

“No,” Tanner whispered, and Van Demon took a step closer.

“Such a pity, peacekeeper,” Van Demon smiled. “So me thinks I will kill senor uncle and take the senorita to bargain with, should I need to.”

Hearing this, Fandel dropped to his knees and began to beg for his life. “No
, you can’t kill me,” he whined. “How will you make your way to the Rusty Volcano without me?”

“I think I will recognise a volcano when thee see
s one, no?” Van Demon smiled, enjoying the sight of Fandel begging for his life.

“You might find the box,” Fandel tried to bargain, “but you won’t be able to open it. Even the great sorcerer
, Throat can’t open it. That’s why it hangs above the volcano, slowly burning open. But there is a key!”

“Now there is a key, amigo?” Van Demon sneered. “Why did you not mention a key before?”

“Because you would have killed me back then,” Fandel said, his long face ashen, greasy black hair flopping over his brow. “I thought I might need something to bargain with, and I was right.”

“You were very wise, senor uncle,” Van Demon said. “You are cunning. Perhaps
thee would make a better companion than thee peacekeeper.”

“I would, I would!” Fandel sniveled as he shuffled towards Van Demon on his knees. “Kill him
, not me.”

Then turning to face Tanner again, Van Demon leaned in, and breathing coolly into his face, he said, “Si, I think senor uncle is right.”

“This is your last chance, Bandit,” Tanner whispered. “Take your merry men and sail far away from here, or you die.”

“Die, ye say?” Van Demon smiled again, searching Tanner’s crazy stare with his own.

“Right here,” Tanner whispered. “Right
now
!”

Before Van Demon had a chance to react, Tanner smashed his forehead into the bridge of Van Demon’s
nose. There was a crunching sound as Van Demon’s already decomposed face shattered under the sheer force with which Tanner had struck him. The noise of Van Demon’s cracking skull was still ringing in Anna’s ears when the night exploded with the clatter of gunfire.