Page 412 of Flirting with Darkness

I step back into the ward and think about my options.

It doesn’t take long. I only have one. I have to find that girl, even if it means I’m running these gods-awful woods in circles until I do. So, I bolt out from the ward and this time, head in the opposite direction I’d just come from.

I run for what seems only a few moments before I’m back at the infernal ward again.

I look at the glowing rune on my chest. Maybe it’s having some effect on my perception? Or maybe the ward itself is?

I try again, but this time, I don’t stick to the trail. I run right into the thick trees and brush, thinking that maybe it’s the path itself that’s enchanted.

I pick my way through thorns and thickets, jogging when I can, without aim, without a sense of where I’m going, just hoping that I have a bit of luck in this place.

Foolish of me.

Among a field of towering rowan and cypress, I catch sight of something cloaked and disgusting.

I drop to my knees.

Dread.

Like a wet cloak, it lays heavy around me, sinking into my flesh until I’m soaked through with its chill.

I clamp my hands over my mouth to keep it from hearing my breathing, and thorns scrape the back of my hands, my cheeks, and forehead.

Clacking. That awful, inhuman sound resonates in my skull and it takes all my will not to scream, to drown it out. And then, between the branches of spiny brambles and sharp leaves, I see the dreadful noise isn’t talons or claws.

It’s bones.

The skeletal figure hovers over the ground, leaving a trail of death and rot behind it.

It’s just like the creature the king turned into in the cellar. Skin falling off, rotting meat…

Is that thesluagh?

My fingers tremble over my mouth as I send up a prayer to the Goddess for safety.

For protection. For anything that might see me through this.

The creature glides across the field, heading right toward me.

Sweat drips down the small of my back, and I’m certain it can hear the staccato drum of my heart.

It hovers in front of the bush I’m crouched in, fleshy rotted nostrils twitching like it can scent me.

I stop breathing when my gaze lands on the hollow sockets where its eyes should be.

Long finger bones clack together, sending a shudder through me as it continues scenting the air.

Please go. Go on. There’s nothing here of interest.

I can’t drag my eyes away from that eyeless face, the unnatural tilt of its head, and those flexing nostrils. Gods and goddesses, help me.

It stills, finger bones going silent. Even the breeze catching bits of torn and hanging flesh stops.

I’m frozen in fear, muscles locked, eyes wide.Please go. Go, go, go!

It lowers its head several degrees, and though it has no eyes, I sense its gaze on me. The hair on my neck and arms raise. My mouth floods with saliva as nausea rolls over me.

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that could do anything.

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