Page 2 of Property of Necro
I’ve heard of plenty of unique, off-the-wall ones, but I’ve never met a Rot.
Sneaking another look at the tall man, I file his road name away for later, so I don’t forget. Not that I would.
“Welcome.” He raises a calloused hand in greeting, showing off an impressive bicep and a flash of whiteteeth. I pause at the bottom step to read an old church bulletin wrapped in a prickly, overgrown bush.
Church of the Cursedis crudely carved across the worn wood, its letters painted a deep red.
On the bulletin - a poem.
The walls hiss secrets. The shadows conceal.
We feed on fears you thought weren’t real.
A curse grips the air. Death waits in the dark.
Once you step inside, you shall never depart.
Reading it three times, I shiver at the cryptic message and glance up to find Dark frowning. “Sola?” He sweeps his hand toward the church's open door, where darkness lurks across the threshold.
Another shiver travels to my toes, sprouting goose pimples along the way.
Right.
I’m here as a gift. I have a part to play.
Rot smiles warmly as I steel my shoulders, blow out a breath, and ascend the stairs in my favorite purple Crocs with colorful charms.
“I’ll grab your bag,” Dark calls as I stop beside the biker on the landing. He’s a full head taller than me and covered in blood. I’ve been around enough death to know what it looks like. There’s a smear across his pierced nipple.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Rot bows his head and flicks his gaze to the doorway as if waiting to see if I make the first step to cross the threshold.
Clasping my hands together, I say nothing as I inspect the carved bone handles on the church and runes carvedinto the old wood. There’s an upside-down cross nailed at the top of the frame.
So, they’re not a Christian club. Got it.
Dark sets my bags on the top step, and Rot collects them, one in each hand.
“You’re not coming in?” I ask my ride.
Hands stuffed in his front pockets, Dark shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not welcome inside.”
“He’s not one of us,” Rot growls, as if that somehow answers everything when all it gives me is more questions.
But… the poem…Once you step inside, you shall never depart.
“You can’t leave if you go in,” I guess.
Upper lip curling back like a savage, Rot juts his chin at Dark. “He dies.”
Oh.
Yikes.
How unfortunate.
