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The black slug things that had been part of the killer’s fingers were wriggling at the edges of the door, as though they were trying to get out and get back to him. But so far, not a single one of them seemed able to get past the seal around the edges of the vast, round door.
“What are those?” the High Priestess demanded breathlessly. “And whatever is going on?”
“That’s the stuff the killer is made of,” Sky told her. “We found it at the other crime scenes—it was on the victims and also on the floor, under the doors. We couldn’t figure it out—couldn’t understand how he was getting into locked rooms and taking his victims by surprise.”
“He must have been shaping himself to look like people they knew and trusted,” Neen’ya whispered. “Remember what The Book Which Writes Itself told you earlier, Sky’lar? It said, ‘That which you seek does not appear in the form that you seek it.’ Right?”
“Yes—that’s exactly what it said.” Sky nodded.
“I think we need to consult the book right now!” the High Priestess said. “Come, girls—let us see if it can tell us what to do!”
They gathered around the pedestal, Sky keeping one eye on the door as she did so. As long as the black slug-like things couldn’t get out, she felt confident the killer couldn’t get in. Well…fairly confident.
The book looked the same as it had earlier—its yellowed pages blank and still.
“Book, quickly, tell us what to do!” the High Priestess exclaimed. “We seek your wisdom—help us!”
All was quiet for a moment and then there was a rustling like dry leaves and the words started appearing, flowing over the brittle pages like an invisible hand was writing.
“A great EVIL stalks you,” the High Priestess read. “Yes, yes—I know that already! But how do we get out of here? How do we escape the evil?”
The book was quiet for a moment as the words erased themselves. Then it started writing again. After a moment, Sky saw what it had to say.
In a trembling voice, Neen’ya read aloud,
“One of you is going to die.”
FIFTY-TWO
TORIN
“No, you’re not Torin! You’re not him!”
This time Torin was sure the voice was Sky’lar’s. He was getting closer! A few moments later, he heard a muffled booming sound, like a vast door closing and suddenly he could see it in his head—the vault-like door of the Chamber of The Book Which Writes Itself!
There was more shouting and a few minutes later he was there—just outside the chamber door. And so was the killer.
He was trying to find his way into the vault door, Torin saw. His body looked normal enough—if anything about a supernatural serial killer could be considered “normal”—but his hands and fingers had turned to black, oozing goo which was trying to slide through the cracks around the thick metal door.
Only there are no cracks, Torin thought, feeling a deep relief. He clearly remembered Neen’ya telling them during the tour of the Shrine that the door was hermetically sealed. Just like Beelie, the old-fashioned automaton that Mirabella had hidden in to escape the killer. He couldn’t get in.
But they can’t get out, either—Sky’lar and whoever’s with her, he thought. And how much air is there in that little round room anyway? How long can it last?
Better not to push it.
“Hey, you bastard,” he called, hoping to draw the killer’s attention away from Sky’lar. “Why don’t you come fight someone your own size?”
The killer’s head turned around. He didn’t turn, like a normal person, moving his body and turning his neck. No, it was just his head which swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees to stare at Torin, while his body stayed facing forward, still seeking to find a way into the chamber.
“Oh hello, Commander Torin!” The killer grinned widely, showing teeth like daggers with black ooze between every one. “You came just in time. You see, your lady friend, Agent Sky’lar and I, are about to have a little party.”
“You fucker—you’re not going anywhere near her,” Torin growled. Hearing the woman he loved being threatened was making the Rage rise in him and he was having a difficult time keeping himself from going into berserker mode.
“Oh? Would you rather I fuck you instead?”
Suddenly the killer’s face melted…and reformed as Sky’lar. But this Sky’lar’s eyes were black with a dot of blood red where each pupil should be instead of pale blue.
“Oh, Torin,” the killer crooned in a high, cracked voice—a crude imitation of Sky’lar. “Let me fuck you again! It feels so good to take you and fuck you like a woman…I love it when you give it up for me like a female in heat…”
Hearing his own words to Sky’lar in the killer’s mocking tone was almost too much for Torin. A blood-red curtain dropped over his vision and suddenly everything was swimming in crimson.
