AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know like you,” she said, then spat at his feet. “Evil inside.”
He cocked his head. “What do you know of it?”
“Tossed her out. Out of his big house. Hell house, underground, just like the way to hell. Find her, and she’s all broken and can’t fix her, just like that egg boy.”
“Egg boy?”
“Humpty,” she said. “Egg boy.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Just wanted to get her groove on, that’s all she wanted. Just trying to get by, get high.”
He stepped closer. “Move.”
She hesitated, and he curled his lips. That sufficed, and she scuttled sideways, revealing a mound under a tattered, filthy blanket. He bent closer, saw bugs scatter as he reached to draw the cloth away, then found himself staring at an emaciated young woman with a mass of dark, curly ringlets. She was pale and motionless, and the scent of death was upon her.
“Where?” Nick asked. “Where does he live? The one who did this thing?”
The woman stuck out a thin arm and pointed to the left fork of the tunnel. “He’s evil. He’ll rip your heart out as soon as look at you. And he just tosses them away, all the pretty girls. Just trying to get by. Just trying to get a fix.”
He left her prattling on, her words echoing eerily in the tunnel.
He found Serge’s door easily enough. There was no mistaking it. The polished, ornate oak, completely devoid of graffiti. Because who in the tunnels would be fool enough to deface the monster’s doorway?
“Serge! Open up!” Nick pounded, ignoring the eyes that peered out from the dark. “Dammit, Serge, open the fucking door.”
Nothing. No sound. No noise. Nothing.
“Fuck.” This time, the curse was whispered, more to himself and the door than to anyone inside. “Too bad. It’s a damn nice door.” And with that, he reared back, kicked, and sent the heavy oak door flying across the flagstone-paved entrance hall.
His eyes told him the place was empty. His nose told him otherwise. The pungent, enticing scent of blood hung in the air, laced with fear and a little piss and shit just to give it that nice round edge.
“Bloody hell, Serge,” Nick whispered, moving slowly through the place. “What the fuck are you into?”
He heard it then—a single, low growl that had him racing to the far door that led into Serge’s private playroom.
Serge was there, naked and prostrate over a huge broken mirror. Deep gashes marred his arms and legs. Fresh, Nick knew, as they hadn’t yet begun to heal.
“Serge.”
His friend twitched, but didn’t look up.
“Serge, look at me.”
He turned, and Nick saw the serpent in his eyes warring for control. And the horror of what he’d done—what he would do—etched on Serge’s face.
“Can’t bring the Holding. Can’t call forth the Numen,” Serge said, taking a shard of glass and digging it deep into his arm.
The blood ritual. The spirit guide.
Even now, Nick felt the cold, hollow grip of fear. The terror he’d experienced when he’d slid into the netherworld for that ultimate battle. And the sinking knowledge that he could still lose the battle despite the Numen at his side. And if he did, he would be forever trapped, the serpent Nick evolving, while the other Nick dissolved into nothing.
In front of him, Serge howled with pain, but didn’t stop mutilating his skin. “Come, you bitch! Get it the fuck out of me. Push it back!”
“Serge. Serge!” Nick knelt beside him, grabbed his shoulders with one hand, and with the other took the bloody glass. “You’re you. You’re still you. It’s working. You’re fighting. You don’t need her yet. You’re pushing it back. I can see it. You’re pushing it back.”
“No, no, no.” With a terrible, heart-wrenching squall, Serge looked up, met Nick’s gaze with drunken eyes. “I lost it. It killed her.”
