Page 45 of Midnight in the Garden of Okay and Meh
“One entrance to the worst place in the underworld coming up,” Mabel said cheerfully, and holding her moonstone pendant, she winked at Jim before the two of them disappeared into nothing.
Jenna gave a nod, her gaze still on the back of the toilet block. “And now it’s our turn. If everyone would snuggle up next to me, I’ll count to three; then you’ll hopefully blip in.”
“You’re not going with them?” Aisling asked Jenna as Jim and Sally scooted close to her. The Weaver stood with her head bowed and her arms outstretched, palms facing the building.
“Can’t.” Jenna’s gaze remained fixed on the wall before her. “No Weavers allowed unless cursed there. Ready?”
Sally put one hand on Jim’s collar, the other on Jenna’s arm, and braced herself for the translocation.
There was a moment’s feeling of all her atoms separating, then slamming back together in a manner that left her momentarily without breath.
Jim staggered forward, directly into a figure that resolved itself into Mabel, who collapsed. Sally was relieved to see both women, although she noted that even Parisi took two steps forward before she stumbled and went down to her knees.
Around them, a heavy silence fell. “It’s almost sticky,” Sally said without thinking, glancing around.
“What ... holy shitsnacks, I feel like I slammed into a freight train. ... What feels sticky? And why has this guiding affected me like this? I’ve never been touched by the underworld before,” Mabel asked as she got to a sitting position, weaving slightly.
“I was talking about the silence. As for your discomfort, it’s most likely the security built into the Hour perimeter. I believe I shall sit down for a moment to gather myself. The Carrie Fay Academy of Shiny Hair and Uplifted Tatas has strong things to say about cavorting around without being gathered.” She sat on a smooth reddish-brown rock bench and took stock of the situation.
“It would appear we’re in some sort of prison. I guess that makes sense, although I wouldn’t think it was necessary, given the protection woven into the Hour itself,” Mabel said, dragging herself over to plop down on a stone stair.
“It looks like a crypt to me,” Jim said, wobbling for a few steps. “Smells like one, too.”
Sally took a few discreet sniffs. “I can smell nothing but damp, although I agree the general vibe given off is that of abandoned, haunted crypt. One with large spiders, velociraptors, and giant chupacabras.”
Parisi had made it over to one of the walls, and Sally realized that what she’d thought of as an antechamber or a small reception room was actually the landing of a stairway that led downward, into the dank, damp earth. The doorways were suitably Gothic in their arches, while occasional wall alcoves held dismally burning torches, from which an acrid gray smoke emitted, curling its way to a ceiling so high, it was a vague haze above them.
Despite the low level of light, Sally realized that what she had first thought were mildew stains on the stone were actually some form of writing. She rose and moved to Parisi’s side, her eyes narrowing on the stone wall facing them. “I am not familiar with this language,” she said absently.
“It is Sibli,” Parisi said, her gaze scanning the wall. “Used many millennia ago by the protomages, and spelled with prohibitions. These symbols here, though, are different.”
Sally studied them. “I do not remember Sibli, but a few of the runes look familiar.”
“Sibli is an ancient language,” Parisi said, trailing a finger along the carved stone as she moved down the wall toward the sunken stairs. “It was old when I was young.”
“When was that?” Jim asked, coming over to look at the wall. It didn’t look impressed.
Parisi gave it a little smile. “Well before you, demon.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, you are my mom,” Jim answered.
Sally wasn’t at all surprised when Parisi did not acknowledge the statement. She had an air about her that warned she had been in the Beyond for many hundreds of years, and thus had probably lost touch with her life in the mortal world. “These runes are about four thousand years old, I believe. It looks to me like it’s a prophecy.”
“It is,” Parisi said, dusting her hand on her hip before starting toward the stairs. “One that warns that violation of this Hour will result in the breaking of the Otherworld. Shall we proceed? Much as I am enjoying my time in your reality, I cannot be away from my home for long lest Don Diego get it into his head that he leads the other defenders in their daily fitness.”
Jim and Mabel looked at Sally. “Should we be worried about potentially breaking the entire Otherworld?” Mabel asked.
“I’m not,” Sally answered. “I don’t see why you should want to do so, but you do you. And yes, it’s probably best we get moving before the Hashmallim figure out where we are. Let me see. ... If I remember the map Terrin had of the Hour, the lake should be down the stairs in a subcellar.”
Sally made a few mental notes about their trip through the maze that made up the Thirteenth Hour. Although she remembered Terrin’s map, it had been fairly bare of details, so it took her a few tries before they emerged into a cavern filled with blackness and the gentle plop of wetness dripping to the floor.
“Jim, I believe it’s time to bring out those things I gave you to carry,” Sally said, her hands on her hips as she studied the unmoving black water. She had to admit that just looking at it gave her an uneasy feeling, and for a moment, she considered tapping into the joint power that she and Terrin shared, but gave a headshake at that temptation.
“Gotcha.” Jim shimmied out of the Hello Kitty backpack it wore, and opened it before spilling out the contents on the dirt floor.
“Light first, I think,” Sally said, handing four camping lanterns to Mabel. “If you could place them along the shore. I have waterproof headlamps for those of you going into the water.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Jim asked her, its brows furrowed.
