Page 114 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

With a clap of Molly’s hands, a rumble of noise came from the south side of the cemetery, this accompanied by a “Fuck!” from Percy.

The bones that lay among the freshly disturbed earth and splintered coffin shards began twitching, as though each piecehad been given its own sentience and drive to form itself back into one whole. They slid and rolled, and with no sinew or muscle to help them, began to build one upon the other, toe after toe, feet, ankles, piece by piece. Some had flakes of skin attached here and there. Some took with them the ancient remnants of once-best dresses and suits. All quickly and clearly shared the same goal.

Giordano was still ‘keeper of the sheath’, being taller and stronger than Althea and Leo, and while he kept it tucked safely under one arm, this left him one hand only to hold and aim his gun. He’d already discharged it several times earlier in the evening, getting Althea and Leo safely past one or two pale crawlers (not that he knew what they were called), which left him now with only a few bullets and far too many targets.

Althea had desperately wanted to bring a crossbow she’d discovered amongst Percy’s belongings, but having insufficient arrows, she, like Leo, had settled for knives. And like Leo, she had no real idea what to do with them other than slash at hard bone, its own special armour.

And Leo, while he unerringly believed Percy would fix everything, did not at all like the way Althea’s eyes remained almost always on Molly, as though she were assessing the distance with every step, waiting for her chance to attack a woman who seemed as though she’d rip her in half as easily as look at her.

Both Joe and Percy were aware of the hopelessness of the situation from the second the group arrived on the scene. The two of them, they could fight it out alone, but their meagre resources were stretched protecting their friends.

“We’ll all go,” Joe decided. “Let’s stick together, fight our way to the closest wall, and get you over it.”

“East then,” said Percy. “Let’s move.”

Percy and Joe advanced on the unsteady, still-reanimating skeletons. Percy was first with a strike that took the head off one of the newly raised creatures. Joe, improvising, picked up a long and sharp shard of a coffin, just the right size to wrap a fist around. He slipped it between two ribs, then forced his end down, prying the ribcage apart in one blow. Althea fell back against them as a skeleton lunged for her, but this was soon knocked back by Giordano, thrown down by Leo, and had its arms and legs broken by Althea as payback for the affront.

“Do you remember—” Percy started, only to be cut off by Joe’s laugh.

“How could I forget?” He tripped up a skeleton and smashed its pelvis into so many pieces with his boot that it would never stand again. “I thought we were about to break up.”

“After a first night like that?” Percy replied, slapping a skull to the left and then slicing down on its neck. “I was never going to let you go.”

“Percy…” Joe blushed hotly as he knocked the legs from under another skeleton.

And in just such a manner, they battled on, Percy never letting his doubts show behind a facade of fond quips and occasional vulgarity, Joe confident in the steadfastness of Percy’s words and actions. But they made it only a very small way, constantly pushed back by a multitude of white coming through the trees, crawling out of more and more graves, and the whole group woefully underpowered from the get-go. And that’s when they heard the growls, low and mean, and all around, from beyond the skeletons.

“What the fuck is that?” asked Percy.

“Pale crawlers,” Joe replied. “Easy to gut, but they’re fast and they have big teeth.”

“This is useless,” Althea said breathlessly, punching and stabbing at the encroaching horror closing with every second. “There isn’t a way through.”

“If she’s the lead villain, we need to take her out, right, Percy?” called Leo.

“They’re not vampires,” said Joe. “She’s a witch and I’m pretty sure her spell will hold whether we kill her or not.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” shouted Giordano, having resigned himself to one fist to fight off the onslaught.

Molly hadn’t moved from her spot, nor had her hot and average zombies, watching on impassively, waiting for the skeletons to do her work.

One made a grab for the sheath, a move that took them all by surprise. Evidently, they had purpose beyond the destruction of their little group. And this made Leo snap, “Just give it to her. You don’t believe that bullshit, Percy. It’s just junk.”

“It’s two thousand years old. It was worn by a Roman soldier, who?—”

“Saint Longinus,” Joe offered.

“That’s apocryphal,” Percy spat.

“You’re apocryphal,” Joe threw back.

“It doesn’t matter who he was. It’s my only Roman sheath and she can’t have it. Now on the off-chance it did hold those powers?—”

“Then you’ll be wanting that spear back.” Althea stated the words coolly before breaking rank with startling efficiency. Small, she weaved beneath arms, cracked a tibia or two on her way past, shoved at ribcages, and made her way through the conglomeration of death, full pelt, in the straightest line possible towards Molly.

Leo was after her like a shot, ducking and criss-crossing, leaving the three hulking men little alternative but to turn backand start smashing their way through the pile in the other direction to get to them.

“Althea, don’t!” Leo screamed after her, but she was already at the foot of the monument Molly stood upon. Waleed and Tareq slammed skeletons to dust in an attempt to stop her. She was nimble, athletic, a born survivor, and she fronted up to Molly with all the nous of a Surabaya girl from the wrong side of the tracks. She got in one punch that was so hard, so well-aimed, that even Percy and Joe flinched at the sound it made when she cracked Cleo’s cheekbone.

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