Page 64 of Heart and Soul
“I hear you.” His breathing has turned ragged. “Keep talking. It helps.”
“I know you’re hearing many different voices right now, but I need you to only hear mine.”
I feel the phantom fingers exploring my neck. Another hand materializes at the base of my skull. This one doesn’t glide; it walks like a spider, moving up through my hair. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on Hillerman’s voice.
“Tell me what you see, Danny.”
“I’m at the steps. There’s a door, but no handle. It’s solid stone.”
“What else? There’s got to be something.”
“Dragons. Or gargoyles, I don’t know. Carved in stone all around the door. But no handle. There’s no…”
“Danny?”
The hands roam. One gliding up my throat, the other creeping over the top of my head.
“There is something,” Russo announces. “On the mantle above the door, a rectangle carved into the stone.”
“A rectangle?”
“The same size as the business card.”
“Put it in,” Hillerman orders.
The spider hand crawls out of my hair onto my forehead. The slithering fingers prod at my closed lips. They want in.
“Put it in, Danny.”
“What will happen?”
The creeper pokes at my eyes. The other hand pushes between my teeth. I might throw up.
“At the club, you gave your will over to Elle, Danny. You trusted her completely. I’m asking you for the same. You can choose fear, or you can choose me.”
“Hell, that’s easy,” he responds with renewed confidence. “Trick or treat, bitches.” He slaps the invite against the mantle, and instantly the hands recede from my face, then disappear altogether. I release a long-held breath, gasping. All my muscles relax at once. Brenner drops to his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“Why’s the door not opening?” Hillerman asks impatiently. “Do you see a handle? A way in?”
Russo sounds hesitant. “Well. No…”
“But?”
“But…” He pushes overgrown ivy away from the wall. “One of these gargoyles just opened its mouth.”
“What’s inside?”
“Nothing. It’s just a hole. And don’t say—”
Hillerman says it. “Stick your hand in there.”
Russo sighs.
We watch as Russo hovershis hand just inside the gargoyle’s mouth, then quickly pulls it back. He tries again, leaving his hand in for longer this time. When nothing happens, he pushes his hand all the way in. I can’t see the details of the gargoyle from where we are. All I see is a black hole and Russo’s whole hand disappearing inside it. Then his whole wrist. Then his entire forearm. Russo is gagging. “Oh man, oh, ew, that’s just…”
“What?” I ask.
“It’s smooshy. And wet.”
