Haunted Moon
Page 12

I did as he asked, sinking to the ground slowly, making sure Morio stayed connected to me. Physical contact wasn’t absolutely necessary, but it made things a lot easier.
The ground was soft and moist beneath my knees, and I felt like I was sinking into the earth. A reverberation of magic ran through Ivana’s land and it sang to me. I caught my breath, wanting to unhook my corset, to press my breasts into the soil. At that moment, Morio let out a small sound and I realized he was feeling it, too—through me.
“Ivana, what is this energy…” My words drifted off as I opened my eyes and looked over at her. It took everything I had not to reel back, to break the connection and spell.
For there she stood, Ivana, the Maiden of Karask, only she was no longer hideous and gnarled, but tall and brilliant and dark as the evening sky. Her hair flowed now, long and silver, with black streaks running through it. She was taller than Smoky, and her face was angular, pale as the moon’s silver light, and her eyes glowed with a dark burgundy—not in the way of vampires, but like hot coals in the middle of a white sea.
Ivana Krask was terrifying in her unnatural beauty—far more than Aeval or Titania. A magnetic pulse resounded from her core, shimmering out in concentric rings, and it captured me with a deep rhythmic vibration. I wanted to run to her, to fall at her feet.
Fighting with my instinct, I forced myself to hold steady. Morio was struggling, too. I could feel longing rise up in Morio—a deep hunger. I reached up, took his hand, and squeezed as hard as I could, driving my nails into his skin to shake him out of his stupor. He moaned softly but then shook his head and glanced at me as he steadied himself.
Shade was holding Delilah as she huddled in his arms, weeping. I didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t look hurt, so I returned my attention to Ivana, who slowly crossed to stand beside me.
“What is this?” I stared up at her.
She laughed again, then leaned down. She kissed one finger, then pressed it to my lips. “Witch Girl, never forget, the Elder Fae have many forms and more power than you can ever hope to possess. I am showing you my power.”
“Why would you do that?”
“You need to know. For this creature who gobbled up my ghosties, it is stronger than I am. So before you go delving into the grave for its bugaboos and secrets, best you know my own strength. Then, you can decide whether to proceed. You suspected me of raiding the boneyards. I could, if I chose to. But I leave some things be. The ghosties in boneyards, they are home and I do not invade their space. I only go after the spirits who wander, whose fury keeps them from resting. This…thing…whatever it is, plays by its own rules. It eats its fill and scatters the bones.”
I looked around. “I see no bones.”
“This is no graveyard, but only a ghostly repository. But the bones…the bone-walkers and the ghoulies and the zombinos…they travel in the wake of this creature. To create such an army…think of the power it takes.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to tell her that we already knew we were facing a god—it didn’t seem a wise choice to spill secrets at this point.
“I hear your words.” I would not thank her for her advice—that would be giving her too much power over me—but I wanted her to know I appreciated the attempt.
And then, turning back, I pressed my hand against the tombstone. At first, the energy was slow, seeping up from the soil. There was the residue from the ghost who had been anchored to it—hateful and angry and bitter. And then, as I searched, trying to sort out the blur of sensations and impressions, Morio fed me more energy. Without warning, in one long lash of the whip, the sky split open, and I was catapulted into the heart of Gulakah.
Chapter 6
At first, everything was dark and murky, and then a screaming fear shot through me as I found myself floundering in a sea of gray, murky liquid ooze. I blinked, shaking my head as I broke through the water and came up for air. How the hell had I gotten here? And where was here?
But a crest of waves crashed against me, thick and sloshing, and I pushed all questions out of my mind as I fought to keep above the surface. It was then that I noticed the snakes.
Fuck.
All around me, snakes writhed through the muddy ocean, snapping as they came near. I kicked, desperately trying to tread water—if this liquid murk could be called water. Viscous, it reminded me of paint, and was sticky and cold. The smell of rotting detritus filled my nostrils, like old briny seaweed washed up on the shore, and overripe clams.
As the liquid churned, threatening to suck me under, I noticed something moving just beneath the surface. Great, what the fuck was next?
In the back of my mind, I was hoping for something to hold on to, like a piece of wood or maybe, if I was lucky, a life vest. No such luck. As I saw what was rising from the water, I kicked as hard as I could, making a sharp turn. Exit, stage left. Or any place that wasn’t here.
What looked like a giant matte black eyeball rose out of the water. It rippled with veins, and hundreds of writhing snakes were attached to it, like the tentacles on an octopus. I wasn’t sure how much of it remained underwater, but the eye was as big as a boulder and I didn’t want to stick around to find out how big the entire creature was.
Terrified, I launched myself through the water, kicking with long strokes. The ooze tried to suck me down, and my skirts were getting caught in my legs. Part of me wanted to ask, How can this be real? But the fear in my heart, and the fact that I was swimming away from some freakshow monster, overshadowed the side of me seeking a logical answer.
I struggled against the sloshing waves. The liquid was trickier than the actual ocean. As I fought to remain above the waves, they battered me. I frantically looked for some sign of land. In the distance, I could see what looked like a faint silvery shore, but it was a long way off—and I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t going to make it out of this one.
I glanced over my shoulder. The creature was rising high out of the water, its body visible, and I realized I’d seen it somewhere before. And then, I knew who it was, only here, he was a giant, and malformed.
As he reared up, I screamed, some of the murky liquid splashing into my mouth. It tasted like mold and mildew and I spit it out, trying not to gag. As I treaded water, trying to keep the roiling waves from crashing over me, the creature continued to rise, deep and dark and from the depths of the Netherworld. It stank of Demonkin, putrid and dripping with hunger and unquenched desire.
Gulakah.
The Lord of Ghosts.
And he senses you.
I let out a strangled cry as the god turned toward me, his eyeball retracting into his head, the snakes now writhing like hair. Medusa’s coils. As he leaned down, aiming toward me, I sucked in a deep breath and dove, deep into the water, letting it suck me down. Better to drown in the depths than let him catch hold of me.
My lungs burned as I began to drift downward, floating free, unable to see. There was no question about breaking the surface again. Gulakah was there, and I couldn’t fight him. There was no escape.
As my lungs tightened, I steeled myself, preparing for the rush of liquid into my body, for the end. I didn’t know how I’d gotten here, and all I could do was pray that they’d find me somehow. Smoky, Morio, and Trillian would feel the Soul Symbiont bond break—they’d know that I was dead. Resigning myself, I gave in, embraced the ocean of gray, and as I began to let out my breath, I tumbled forward, downward, and hit my head on something hard.
What the fuck?
“Ow.” I rubbed my head.
First realization: I could hear myself.
Second realization: I wasn’t drowning.
Third realization: I was sitting in front of a tombstone, on the ground, and Smoky was reaching down to grab me up in his arms.
“Camille, are you okay? We couldn’t snap you out of the trance.” He sounded frantic, my dragon did, and he held me tight as I clung to him, my arms around his shoulders. The sensation of drowning still echoed through my body, and I was confused and on the verge of panic.
Morio rubbed my back and said something to Smoky that I couldn’t catch. But I could hear Delilah ranting at Ivana—so not a good thing. I tried to get Smoky to put me down, but he wouldn’t—he just held on and refused to let go, long tendrils of his hair reaching up to give him a better hold on me. Not that he needed it, with his strength.
“What the hell did you do to her?” Delilah was screaming at Ivana.
“Shush the tongue, Puss in Boots. I did nothing to Witch Girl.”
Ivana’s voice rolled along the ground with a wave of command. She straightened to full height and—still a vision of dizzying beauty—her voice ricocheted through the yard, knocking over the tombstones that were still standing. A high-pitched keen shot straight through my head, stabbing my third eye as a migraine slammed me. Moaning, I slumped against Smoky, trying to hide my eyes from the light.
Ivana began to laugh. “The Witch cannot handle the pitch of my true voice? Then I will play nice for now.” Within seconds, Ivana the bag lady was back, and her voice was once again the sarcastic tone that grated but did not send me screaming for a quiet, dark place. The headache began to ease up immediately.
More confused than ever, I persuaded Smoky to set me down, still reeling from everything that had gone on. A little unsteady on my feet, I crossed to one of the fallen tombstones and gingerly sat down.
“So, I didn’t actually go anywhere? I didn’t disappear?”
Smoky shook his head. “No. We couldn’t drag you off the tombstone. It was as if it had a suction grip on you and you were gasping for air, like you were being suffocated.”
I cast a long look at the grave marker, but it looked perfectly normal. I didn’t really want to touch it again but leaned over and placed a light finger on it. Cold stone. Nothing more.
“Fuck me hard.”
“Gladly,” Morio spit out before he could stop himself. I gave him a faint grin as he backpedaled. “Sorry. Just habit. What happened?”
I glanced up at Ivana. Not sure how much she knew, I was hesitant to talk in front of her. I didn’t trust her, even though she had come to our aid several times. Morio caught my hesitation and gave me a tight shake of the head.
“We should go.” He reached down to give me a hand.
“But what of my ghosties? Who stole them?” Ivana’s crass voice was grating, but after hearing her true voice, it didn’t bother me nearly as much. She was far more powerful than even I’d thought, and this was yet another issue we had to rethink.
“They’re gone. I’m not sure what took them, but whatever it is, you’re right. It’s big and it’s bad. I suggest you refrain from ghost hunting for a while. Whatever it is might come back and this time might just go after you, too.”
The thought of telling her who did it, of seeing her go up against Gulakah, offered an intriguing set of possibilities, but then I decided that might not be such a good idea.
She frowned. “As you will, Witch Girl. But suspicion abounds…you are not telling the Maiden of Karask all you know, but soon enough, all will reveal. No doubt about that. No doubt at all. Now go, unless you should wish to come into my house for tea. I’ve oinker left and it heats to a nice broth.” She touched her nose, like Santa Claus, and I shivered. Not quite so jolly and safe, although I’d met the real Santa—the Holly King—and he was far from the happy fat man portrayed in the movies.
Ivana escorted us back to the portal, and we hurried through. We were all eager to get away from her, even Shade, who seemed the least bothered. As soon as we were back in Tangleroot Park, I let down my guard and collapsed on the sidewalk, thoroughly worn out.
Delilah knelt by my side. “Camille, what the hell happened? Do you need to see Sharah or Mallen?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but I’m so exhausted. And confused.” Smoky gathered me in his arms, this time ignoring my requests to be set down. His long legs made quick work of the path, and he wouldn’t let anybody question me till we reached the car. Delilah took my keys—she didn’t trust me to drive—and we settled in, with me sitting in the back between Smoky and Morio, and Shade up front with her.
“Okay, now…in the safety of the car, tell us, what the fuck happened to you?” Morio was looking decidedly bent out of shape. I knew him well enough to know that he wanted to go attack whatever had hurt me, but I also knew there was no way he could beat up on the enemy I’d faced.
But had I really faced Gulakah? Was it truly him? Or had something different just put the idea in my head? Shaking off the doubt, I began to tell them what had happened from the moment I touched the tombstone. As I finished, they sat there, staring at me, mouths agape.
“So, I want to know—where the hell was I? No ocean on this planet, that’s for sure.”
Morio shook his head. “I don’t know, but I think you really did land somewhere near Gulakah. You can’t fake the power of his fear.”
Shade cleared his throat. “I don’t think you were in an actual ocean.”
I frowned. “That seems obvious, since I’m not covered with gray ooze. But I was in some body of…liquid, at least my spirit was.”
“No,” he interrupted. “I don’t think you were. I think…what I think is almost too frightening to suggest.” He stared at me, unblinking, those gorgeous eyes stark against the warm toffee of his skin.
“Just say it, dude.” I was tired of people circumnavigating things.
“I think…I think you projected yourself inside Gulakah’s mind.”
His words hit me like a brick wall, tumbling down.
“Fuck. No.” Reeling at the thought, I shook my head. I couldn’t have landed in the mind of a god—especially Gulakah. “No, no…no…”