Page 152 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

Besides, trap or not, it doesn’t matter to either the I&I or my superiors in reclamations. I can’t return without Nygohl Vasheer. If it’s a trap, it is at least a trap that will lead me to him. I walk in the direction of the blood streaks and give Jugong’s arm a pat in passing both to reassure him and so that he will follow my lead. His soft grunt is his only response, but I senseand hear him fall into step behind me as we make our way deeper into the gorge.

The dense fog narrows the world to what is immediately visible in front of us and to either side of us, and yet I am confident that I am going the right way not only for smears of blood reappearing but for the occasional glimpse of something shadowy moving in the fog remaining just ahead of us. Is it Nygohl? Possibly.

Or it is something leading us for other reasons. Ghosts, like living people, can have those who are murderous and sadistic among their numbers.

Another shiver steals over me but I continue to follow. The trail of blood is getting thicker and heavier though I am not sure where this new blood is coming from. I am forced to sidestep more than one stream falling from the trees but none of these are near the wall of stone or those trees which are marked.

I begin to pant anxiously as tension slowly winds deeper through me. Jugong’s growl is getting deeper and louder with his rising menace. Although he has been growling this entire time, it is becoming more and more aggressive with every passing moment. I don’t even have to look back at him to know that his wings are unclasped and puffed out around him, his fur bristling with hostility. I can practically sense it with how close he is now hovering behind me.

A dark shadow suddenly moves with a violent speed, distracting me enough that I come to an immediate spot and turn defensively toward it, my blaster out of its holster and raised. To my surprise, the shadows rapidly condense and Nygohl steps forward, wisps of shadows trailing as they continue to cling to him, his hands raised.

“Not this way,” he whispers, his voice projecting in its strange way that it doesn’t fail to carry to my ears despite our distance. He glances warily in the direction of the thickening smears. “You are being hunted. You’ve gone the wrong way.”

A chill falls over me and I glance toward the smears again, seeing a new pattern emerging with this thicker one, something that looks like numerous threads drawn tightly through it.

“What--?”

“Arachnacaras—spider fiends,” he replies, his gaze trailing toward the trees. “They drink and feast what little they can gain from the tormented.” His gaze drops grimly to me. “But they always prefer fresher, more substantial fare. You they would rend entirely to feed their brood and nestmates.”

“Fuck. This is some fucked up purgatory,” I remark as I step back. “I fucking hate spiders.”

I take another step and am immediately encased in Jugong’s wing as they close around me in a loud snap. I don’t even object as that just puts an additional barrier between me and the creatures. I draw down the top of his wings just enough, however, so that I can see Nygohl. I give him a hard, questioning look and he gestures for me to follow.

“This way,” his whisper comes again.

Jugong snarls at him suspiciously but falls silent when a loud skittering sound rises from the fog. His gaze rakes over the blood-soaked stones and he and I both peer at the fog. Something is moving out there. It is moving through the murk, the shadows sliding together, accumulating and gradually darkening. How many Arachnacaras are there in a nest?

I stare at it in horror but don’t have the opportunity to form a proper reaction to it before I am suddenly captured firmly in his arms and lifted completely off of my feet. His wing clasp around me doesn’t move in the slightest, and in fact seems to tighten around us as he whips around and heads, however reluctantly, in Nygohl’s direction as the wraith slips through the forest ahead of us.

Nygohl, I realize, never stays in one form long as we move along some invisible trail in the forest. He shifts steadily between shadow and flesh in a steady movement fading in and out. I suspect that it is part of his defense mechanism. Perhaps even in hunting since there are advantages and disadvantages to both forms. I wonder if there are things that he can see in one form better than in others—perhaps even whatever trail he is taking.

I am certain that there must be a trail, or some sort of markers he is following because he moves confidently. Because of that I am not entirely surprised—nor thrilled—when we arrive at a half-fallen temple covered in strange markings and stained deeply with blood and what appears to be the inky remains of slain ghosts. The urge to throw up returns to me. This is a place of deep death. He can’t seriously want to take me in there?

He turns and the smile that twists his lips and spreads across his face makes my stomach drop. Of course he does.

“This way,” he beckons, slipping inside.

I inwardly curse even as I silently direct Jugong to follow. I may not know his intentions, but it is clear he isn’t out to kill us or else he would have let us walk into the Arachnacaria nest. And there are still the same issues that require me to follow. All the same, as far as I’m concerned, going into death temples is way beyond my service contract.

“I am so lodging a fucking complaint when I get back,” I mutter crossly.

The insideof the temple is as intricately carved as the outside, and unfortunately equally stained if not bearing an even heavier splatter. It is even apparent that patterns have been traced over and over in the blood, through each subsequent layer in a chilling effect. Jugong carefully lowers me to my feet before releasing me to take a protective stance, his wings braced wide with their sharp claws spread aggressively. He holds his arms away from his side, his fingers splayed and ready to attack. My hand drifts down to my blaster and I meet his eyes and nod firmly to him.

This is a place for us to both be on our guard.

With Jugong covering my rear, I take my first steps into the temple, the flickering candle light from numerous wooden stands arranged along the walls briefly dazzling my eyes before I take another step, and another as I make my way deeper in the temple’s long gullet of a corridor.

It is as if I am walking into a massive sacrificial chamber where every inch has been baptized repeatedly in the blood of the dead. Among the morbid fingerpainting tall, skeletal carvings extend toward the roof, their hands open in supplication. At their lead are demons and infernal deities.

I pause in front of the image of a crowned, grim deity. His left hand is extended with a scroll clasped firmly in it. Jugong stops at my side and growls softly in his throat as his gaze skims over the figure.

A flicker of light shines on the carving and then grows brighter, bringing more details into sharper relief.

“That is unnamable, the high king.” I jump at the sound of Nygohl’s voice so unexpectedly near and glance over at him.

His black cloak and gear make him hard to see within the inner temple even with the rows of candles on long stands that line the walls. In the candlelight his form seems as shadowy as ever, all except his corpse-pale face and his large eyes staring back at me, lit with the same spirit light that glows brightly in the palm of his hand. He looks eerie, like a perfect porcelain doll of incredible perfection in form and beauty and yet equally as remote and cold… yet with his eyes burning that way as he looks at me—looks through me—I feel a deep response to it that sends warmth flooding into my cheeks.

My jaw clenches in protest. It is not like me to be drawn in by my prey. Then again, somehow the wraith managed to sneak up on us, and that was unprecedented since bonding with a Giwung. Even Jugong’s large ears have snapped back in surprise at the sound of the wraith’s voice, his head turning briefly toward him with a tight snarl. For a moment it appears that he is considering his attack, but his snarl ceases with a sound of disgust when he too notes that Nygohl is maintaining a safe distance that would allow him to disappear down the corridors with ease before we can fully launch an attack. Despite that, there is clarity in the wraith’s presence. I can see him more clearly than anything else in the hall and can hear him easier than I even would be able to hear Jugong at my side.

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