Page 97 of Malice

My words seem to strike a chord. The Horror narrows its eyes and even in the darkness I see the fury behind them.

“I did learn something before I escaped. Something you don’t know about the astral plane. You’re the vulnerable one here.”

Suddenly it’s on me, tackling me to the unseen ground beneath me. It grabs my chin, yanking my jaw open and sucking the air from my lungs. Its mouth is open unnaturally wide, revealing blackness and fire and the foulest stench.

It doesn’t take me long to understand what’s happening. If I don’t act now, the Horror will steal my soul and I won’t be able to keep Hudson safe. Probably something Wilder should’ve warned me about.

With all the strength I have, I wrap my arms around the mass on top of me, close my eyes, and with focused intention, I picture returning to my body and project us back to Hudson’s kitchen.

The sudden shift is jarring, and I almost release the damn thing as it shrieks and struggles in my grasp.

“Aster!” Hudson’s voice reaches me, as does Otto’s panicked barking, but I’m on a mission.

I get to my feet awkwardly as I keep my arms around this thing. It looks less human but has retained some of its features, grasping for Hudson over my shoulder. Hudson stays out of reach, clutching my dog as they both look on with terrified expressions.

I scan the floor for my circle and make a run for it, jumping over the border and bracing myself for whatever’s next. I have no idea how this works, so I’m trusting the handbook and what I’ve learned since this ordeal began.

The Horror loses its shit, shrieking and resisting, clawing my neck and face as we fall through darkness. We land with a thud in pitch blackness, but I immediately recognize where I’m at. This is the house. The hallway to the Below is illuminated, like those aisle runner lights on planes.

I’m aware of how much harder it is to move, how thick the air feels, like crawling through water and dragging a dead body with me. I guess no one said this would be an easy task.

There’s a tug in my chest, like a leash guiding me in the right direction, but with every step, my body feels heavier, making the journey slow and difficult.

I glance over my shoulder, shocked to see the shrinking mass in my clutches. The Horror is losing strength. Yes! I’m so close to ending this once and for all.

A door opens before me, the entry filled with a glowing red light, and the Horror makes one more attempt to flee, but I drag us both across the threshold, falling again throughintense warmth. The smell of sulfur fills my nostrils, turning my stomach sour, but at the same time, giving me a sense of purpose and rightness.

I land gracefully on my feet, and when I get my bearings, I’m faced with a large cage and several glowing red beings gathered around it.

“CDA4963,” I pant.

The cage lights up with the Horror’s underworld name, and it shrieks again in my arms. It’s a struggle to contain it, but as the cage door swings open, I step forward and toss what’s left of the Horror inside.

The door slams shut, the bars sizzling red. The Horror shrinks from a man-sized grayish-black mass to a shriveled blob with a disgusting reddish-brown sludge swirling over it.

A red being steps forward, extending an arm, and the cage moves up and back, attaching to a stone wall lined with other cages filled with shriveled blobs inside. All the cages are lit up with underworld names just like this one. The Horror that was Chester releases a spine-jarring groan that I feel to my core, then the others join in, creating a symphony of angst and regret.

The red being turns to me, gazing at me with inhuman white orbs for eyes. “Eternal punishment,” it says in a high-pitched voice that twists my insides into a knot. “Thank you for your service, Chaser.”

I’m thrown back, sucked through the darkness to land hard on the floor. Some thanks. I struggle to my feet to see Farnsworth standing in front of me, an unusual—and obviously underused given the awkward angle of it—smile on his face. Abigail is beside him, the black figures flank him on either side, and the worker spirits are lined up behind them.

“You were successful, Aster,” Farnsworth says. “You captured the Horror and saved your target. Well done.”

“Well done,” the black figures chant before being joined by the next choir of spirits.

“Well done,” they all chant.

A sense of lightness and achievement washes over me. I did it. I got rid of the Horror.

“It’ll never get out, right?”

“Never,” Farnsworth says. “It will pay the worst price for its deeds and spend eternity in a cage, aware of its plight but powerless to fight against it.”

I nod. “Good.”

Farnsworth bows his head slightly. “You know now why you were chosen for this particular Horror?”

“I have an idea. Maybe you can tell me what you know.”

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