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Loren froze. She lowered her hands—one still clasping a rock, the end of it tapered into a wicked point—and prepared to turn around. She could feel the Pale Man’s attention on her, could hear his bated breathing that reeked of rotting flesh and blood. Hair clung to her sweaty face as she turned…
The Pale Man was watching her from the bottom of the stairs. He must’ve sensed that she had turned, because a smile that showed all the hideous teeth in his too—wide mouth was plastered to his face, stretching all the way out to his ears. A black tongue that was full of scales pushed through the spaces between his teeth, a thick liquid that looked like chewed—up black licorice dribbling down his chin.
Would you like to hear a secret?
“No.” She was trembling now—she couldn’t help it—but her voice was firm and loud.
But I tell all my visitors a secret before I kill them.
“Get it over with, then.” She gripped the rock tight, ignoring the pain of the wounds in her palm splitting wider, bits of gravel digging into tender flesh.
Oh, do allow me to share it. It is a very good secret. I speak in riddles; it makes it more fun.
“Get it over with already.” She closed her eyes, willing her magic to lend her a hand. She’d worked miracles on Kalendae; maybe her power could help her again.
With her eyes closed, she waited.
But when the creature began to speak, all her concentration evaporated.
The Devil will die.
Loren’s heart lurched. Her stomach became a twisted knot.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
The Devil will die, the Pale Man said again. Three magpies take to the sky, the Devil will die.
“What did you say?” Loren said through her teeth, heart stumbling over two beats. “Who are you talking about?”
The thing kept smiling at her, bone—white gums bleeding. Blood and more thick black liquid oozed through the gaps between serrated teeth.
“Who are you talking about?” she demanded.
That must be my easiest riddle yet, the Pale Man replied. I believe you know exactly who I mean.
“Take it back.” The words were gasps squeezed out of her lungs.
It is time for me to kill you now. He lurched down onto his hands and knees, joints popping as they pointed outward. And you will taste so delectable, Rainbow Phoenix. While your flesh smells of one thing, your soul smells of another. It is cedar fires and violet water. Mouth—watering.
“Take it back!”
The Pale Man charged.
Loren kept shouting. She didn’t budge, and the longer she stood there, the less afraid she felt.
“TAKE IT BACK! TAKE IT BACK!” Her voice shifted into a shriek that rattled her eardrums as the creature barreled closer. “TAKE IT BAAAAAACK!”
When he reached the top of the stairs and leapt for her throat, she whirled, dropped to her knees, and covered her ears.
The next word tore out of her, shaking the den, sending rocks clattering down the stairs. “STTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPP!”
Silence filled the room. Silence and stillness. It was so quiet, she could hear the blood in her veins, throbbing with every heartbeat, the only indication that she wasn’t dead.
Taking her hands off her ears, she turned her head, looked up…
The Pale Man was frozen in midair, clawed hands outstretched toward her—only inches from her face, so close she could see the lines crisscrossing the scaly palms. The creature wasn’t blinking, wasn’t breathing. Droplets of sweat ran down his temples, where veins bulged against transparent skin.
It was as if time had stopped.
