13:11
The mice in the threads ran along the web as the group slowly started following the wall, moving toward the left of the door. Abe took lead, followed by Prairie, then Ivan, Gwen, Patti, Kim, Siobhan, and Dan took up the rear. Even with the lower density of threads near the wall the group still managed to bump into quite a few of them. The mice, and Patti, had their job cut out countering the vibration released by the threads when they were hit.
They’d gotten maybe twenty very slow and tedious steps along the wall, lifting their legs to clear some of the lower threads, bending to the side and twisting to shimmy under others when Abe stopped and turned to crane their neck to find Patti. “Are you getting tired?”
“Not really, but,” Patti pressed a hand to her throat, “I wouldn’t say no to some water.”
Siobhan reached into her bag and unearthed a bottle. She handed it across Kim to Patti who took it, uncapped it, and took a long swallow before replacing the cap and poking it into the deep pocket of her baggy cardigan. When she rubbed her throat again, Abe piped up. “Would it help if we sang?” When Patti gave them a quick look, they added, “Dan said it helped when everyone sang when they first came to this place. I thought–”
Before they could fumble over more of an explanation, Patti gave them a bright smile. “It would.”
Abe beamed in return.
Patti started humming. The mice in the threads picked up the sound, amplifying it. As Sass started in the melody triggered the name of the song in Kim’s mind. Lovely Day by, she was pretty sure, Bill Withers. It was a tune that always managed to lift her spirits, even in her lower moments. If she woke up humming it, which didn’t happen that often, she considered it was going to be a really lovely day. Lovely day. Lovely day.
“Lovely day,” she sang under her breath, “Lovely day.”
Behind her Siobhan picked up the tune. And behind her Dan didn’t sing but he did click in such a way that it enhanced the beat.
“Lovely day!” Gwen belted out, drawing a smile from Kim.
Abe echoed the sound, holding the long note. The mice scampered along the threads, four or five of them converging on the front of the line near Abe and seemingly picking up the note so it carried and intensified, the sound growing until it seemed to fill the space.
Kim could have been wrong but it looked like, maybe, the threads drew back a bit, making more space between them and clearing the way for the group to weave more easily around the things.
Pausing her movement, Kim looked over her shoulder at Siobhan and said, “This is for Dempsey!”
Then she shook her ass like she had a tail. It wasn’t really an ass shaking song, though it had a definite joyful energy, but the image of Dempsey shaking his ass while dancing with them drove her to strive for a good beat.
Several mice scampered closer in the threads, peering at her, then they also shook their tails. Which they actually had. One even turned around to better present its ass, and tail, to her and shook it like they needed to pay the rent. Siobhan let out a laugh and then shimmied her shoulders as best she could within the web of threads.
Dan speeded up his clicks until they were like castanets keeping time with Kim, Siobhan, and the mices’ impromptu dance break.
“Dempsey!” Gwen hollered, drawing Kim’s attention from Siobhan in time to see Gwen turning to the wall, pressing her hands to the surface, and then swishing her hips back and forth. She managed to bump pretty much every single thread around her but the mice and Patti and Sass countered the vibration from the threads.
“Uh,” Ivan kind of grumbled before half-shouting, “Dempsey!” Then he grinned a grin worthy of Ben and did some kind of handography which startled a giggle from Prairie who up to then was doing a pretty good job of keeping the rhythm and singing “Lovely Day!”
Ivan raised his fist to his mouth and began beatboxing. Kim stopped her ass shaking to stare because—Ivan. Beatboxing. Pretty well.
From along the wall and somewhere ahead in the threads Ben echoed the rhythm Ivan was beating out. Several of the mice ran through the web of threads, their passage managing to not set off a single vibration.
When they got about halfway between the main group and Ben, they stopped, took up positions in the threads with claws clinging, and started to jive. Tails flew. Fur rippled. Little mouse faces shifted into looks of concentration and joy, the dull glow of the threads uplighting them to comical effect.
A laugh caught in Kim’s throat and she was suddenly hit by a wave of sorrow. She stopped her butt shaking and turned her head to look at Siobhan. “It feels wrong.”
“What?”
“Dancing and laughing while Dempsey is,” she swallowed hard and forced the rest out, “Who knows.”
Siobhan’s expression softened. She gave a subtle. “I feel the same. But,” she cast her gaze along the length of the line stretching in front of them, “I’d rather be determined then sad. Or scared.”
Kim bit her lip. “Yeah.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I get that. Maybe thinking about the good times with him will help?”
“I think,” Siobhan tapered off then gave a watery smile, “It can’t hurt. Unity?”
“Unity,” Dan echoed from behind her, proving he’d been listening.
Their momentary pause didn’t seem to register on the rest of the group who continued to clip and beatbox and sing as they maneuvered along the wall and around the threads. The internalized beat of the song helped Kim step over, duck under, and otherwise slide through the threads.
The rhythm informed her movements, helping her avoid most contact almost like – well, Magick. Probably, definitely, maybe Magick.
It wasn’t long before they were drawing up to where Ben – surprise, surprise – was waiting for them. He didn’t stop his beatboxing, just turned and started weaving his way forward along the wall with the expectation the rest would follow. Which they did. It wasn’t that much of a leap of faith, seeing as they were pretty much all dedicated to getting free of the room full of threads and on to whatever fresh horror was waiting them beyond.
Maybe it wouldn’t be a fresh horror. But, thinking of that as the possibility meant if they actually came into a room full of rainbows and lollipops it would be a great and wonderful present.
Not that Kim thought they’d come into a room of rainbows and lollipops but this was ARFA and that possibility existed.
#
Dempsey came to when something punched him in the face. Or at least it felt like it. The hit came with a strong smell of ammonia.
Reflex had him rearing his head back, but the strands practically mummifying him yanked the motion up short. Tears coursed from his eyes. If he wasn’t hanging from the ceiling, face down, they’d likely have flowed down his cheeks and maybe even choked up his nose a bit. As it was they fell to the floor, the threads holding his eyelids open effectively making sure they had an easy path.
Instantly energy coursed through his system. His senses felt sharper. Well, except for scent. His nose was still full of ammonia and—he was pretty sure mint of some kind. Considering the punch to the face sensation, the tears, and the combined scent he was pretty sure someone had hit him with smelling salts or something like.
Where before mostly he was hearing the throb of his pulse in his ears and to an extent the sound of his swallowing, whatever it was that had been applied made his hearing acute enough he was pretty sure he’d hear a pin drop. He easily picked up the click, click, click of high heels on whatever hard surface passed for flooring in this torture chamber.
“Oh,” Mary’s saccharine sweet voice pierced his brain. “There you are.”
He kind of wanted to make a sarcastic comment about hanging around, but instead he held his tongue, firmed his lips, and glowered at the floor which was the only thing he could see with his head and neck largely immobilized.
“Oops!” Mary’s heels tapped and then she came into focus standing directly under Dempsey with her neck craned so she could look him in his burning eyes. She gave him a parted lipped smile that he was sure was meant to be coy. All it made him think of was a snake unhinging its jaw the better to swallow him whole. “There you are.”
Dempsey really leaned into the glower, which this time was actively aimed directly at Mary’s upturned face.
“Are you ready to help us now?”
Was she talking just to hear herself speak? Because Dempsey couldn’t figure out why she’d think a period of unconsciousness on his part was going to lead to a sudden change of heart.
Oh, wait, she was delusional. Maybe she did think exactly that. Or whatever else her mind was convincing her of.
Dempsey had to question how much of this was people falling for whatever charisma she possessed – which he had to guess she had some of, for people who weren’t suspended from the ceiling with their eyes pried open by torture hooks – and how much of this was just a level of crazy confidence that deafened her ears and mind to any answer that didn’t support her and her wants slash needs.
He assumed she had charisma. You kind of didn’t get to her delusional level of confidence without a large chunk of the people you interacted with over your lifetime falling in line with what you wanted. Which meant the application of either money, power, or charisma or some combination of the three.
People who lived a charmed existence floated through it just assuming people would smooth their way, be the backup singers in their girl group, be the spear carriers in the elaborate stage production of their life.
Dempsey wasn’t sure ‘no’ was in Mary’s vocabulary. Or maybe when someone said ‘no’ she just heard ‘yes’. Even if he had the energy to respond to her, there was no reason for him to do so. So, he just glowered.
“I don’t like that look, Mr. Dempsey!”
Well, I don’t like your face.
Mary took a breath, cocked her head, then proceeded to widen her open-mouthed smile. Probably trying to pour on the charm. Dempsey was still not charmed. Instead, he eyed that open mouth and considered if it was possible for her to unhinge that jaw and engulf him. En-gulp him?
The tip of Mary’s pink tongue flicked top teeth to bottom, further causing Dempsey to entertain the notion she was going to consume him. Head first. Like a praying mantis.
Yeah, he liked that image better than a snake.
He was pretty sure his extended period of being suspended, head slightly down, was causing the blood to flow in such a way that his brain was probably getting damaged. It did explain how his mind kept wandering. Or maybe that was just a defense mechanism to keep him from realizing how well and truly fucked he was.
Mary started to speak but Geppetto’s voice cut her off, coming from somewhere to the right and far outside of Dempsey’s limited visual field. “They are almost through.”
“Slow them!” Mary snapped and then pasted on a soft smile before turning in the direction Geppetto’s voice came from. “Slow them? We need more time with our guest.”
“Almost through. I can only slow so much at this point.”
Mary’s smile dropped. Her features went slack for a nano-mikro, then she gave another what-should-have-been charming smile. “Just cocoon them!”
Silence stretched for a long moment and then Geppetto grunted. “They are protected.”
“Protected how?” The tone of Mary’s voice said this was absolutely preposterous, and she was just not having it.
Geppetto’s tone remained flat. It suggested a long acquaintance with Mary in which he built up an immunity to her quote-unquote charms. Or maybe Dempsey was just reading into it. Either way Geppetto’s reply was monotone and there was more than a hint of exhaustion in it. “I don’t know.”
Mary’s heels clicked on the floor as she tightly paced under Dempsey. He followed her movement, his eyes like a metronome, until she suddenly stopped, planted her hands on her hips, and called out, “ARFA!” in a loud voice.
A moment later the multi-layered voice replied. “Mary?”
“Mary?” Mary prodded. Her toe tapped for a mikro before ARFA corrected, “Mother?”
Mary’s mouth stretched on a satisfied smile for a moment and then the expression shifted to one of malignant cunning. “Unprotect them.”
“Unprotect who?” ARFA replied.
“Really? Really!” One of Mary’s eyes twitched for a mikro and then she eased her expression back into the cajoling smile. “The group.”
“Which group?”
“Which–?” Mary’s eyes widened and her smile took on a frozen quality. “Which group?”
“Please be specific.”
“Really?” Mary’s voice rose on a screech that Dempsey felt on his exposed eyeballs. “The group approaching us! The group coming for him!” She swept her hand at Dempsey.
“Oh. That group.”
“Yes! Yes.” Mary visibly made an effort to school her features back into cajoling, saccharine femininity. “That group.”
The way she bared her teeth was more of a snarl than a smile and it filled Dempsey’s swimming head with a measure of enjoyment and genuine appreciation for the way ARFA was pushing Mary’s buttons. He’d be tempted to give the AI a golf clap if he wasn’t suspended from the ceiling and largely immobile. Still, in his heart he was giving one.
There was a long silence and then ARFA said, “It failed.”
“Really?” Mary’s voice rose an octave, reaching levels close to ‘only dogs’. “Are you defective?”
Mary’s hands balled into fists at her side and she began to pace beneath Dempsey. One, two steps. Stop. Pivot. One, two steps. Click, click went her heels. Tick, tick went the muscle in her jaw, clear to Dempsey with the way she threw her head back and glared skyward. “First, you can’t stop them on the beanstalk. Then you can’t use Time on them. Now you can’t unprotect them?”
“That is a fair assessment.” There was a long pause and then ARFA said in a contemplative tone, “I do not believe I am defective.”
“Well, I do.”
“I am sorry.” Long pause. “Mother.”
Oh, Dempsey clearly heard the inclusion of ‘fucker’ at the end of that. Did Mary? Did she care? Based on the steam kettle screech she released through clenched teeth his money was on yes to both.
Mary stopped her pacing just beneath Dempsey’s downturned face. She met his eyes, cocked her head, and gave a soft smile that chilled him right down to the toes.
Then she extended a hand towards him, fingers furled, and stroked the air a short distance from his face. His jaw and cheeks went numb as something like suction tugged at the substance of him beneath the surface of his skin. The sensation traveled beyond his skin, extending out towards Mary’s fingers. He shifted his gaze as much as he could with the threads holding his eyelids open. In the very corner of his vision he saw something. Almost sheer, pulsing subtly with a kaleidoscope of colors. Softest blue, dove gray, a shimmer of turquoise that danced along the veil of color.
Nausea rose in his stomach, pulsing in time with the gentle dance of color. He clenched his jaw, drew a very hard and long breath through his nostrils, and contracted the muscles of his arms, chest, and legs.
Mary’s triumphant smile dimmed slightly. She cocked her head, shifted on her heels, and then lifted her free hand to claw at the air near his sternum. The tug intensified. Dempsey tensed his muscles more. He felt his jaw pop.
Mary spread her fingers so they curved back slightly and then she tightened them into fists, making pulling movements downwards. Dempsey felt the gossamer stuff he kind of suspected was his soul pull harder against the skin of his face and his collarbones. Mary met his eyes and snapped, “Be a good boy! Stop fighting!”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” Mary’s eyes widened but then she dropped back on her heels and her expression shifted to a grotesque parody of seduction. Limpid eyes, parted lips, a slight flush to her cheeks. She lowered the hand closest to Dempsey’s chest and the pressure there eased. Then she drifted the back of the fingers of that hand down her cheek, along her throat, stopping with her hand hovering just above her breast. “I’ll have sex with you if you give me the items.”
“What?” The word startled out of him.
She took that from his rejection? That his ‘fuck you’, was a ‘fuck me’? The ego on this woman.
Mary let her head fall slightly to the side. She glanced down in what might have been a coy gesture, if, you know, she wasn’t still actively trying to snatch his soul with the hand she wasn’t half-fondling herself with.
She blinked several times, gave the softest of sighs, then looked at him from beneath her lowered lashes. “I’ll have sex with you.”
Because he missed that the first time? “No.”
“Men like me. You’ll like it.” She slid her hand down until she was almost cupping her tit.
For a moment Dempsey just stared at her, trying to process the sheer audacity of her offer. Was she serious? I mean some guys were idiots when it came to sex but seriously was she delusional? A complete narcissist? He was being tortured. Hung from the ceiling by her—boyfriend? Lover? Man’s threads. She was trying to steal his soul, or something like that. He’s rather stick his dick in a wasp’s nest.
Maybe crudity would pierce through her delusion?
“I don’t care if you have a platinum pussy.”
“Oh!” She lifted her hand to press it to her lower throat. All she needed was a string of pearls to finish the look. She sounded genuinely hurt. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked back several tears. One still managed to escape and trickle artistically down her soft cheek. Then she slanted her gaze, again beneath her lashes, at Dempsey and he was pretty sure she was gauging his response to her dramatics.
He tried to look in the direction Geppetto’s voice had come from, but the threads he was bound in made it impossible. So, he just pitched his voice in that direction. “Is she really that good a lay?”
Mary gave an outraged cry and swung her hand forward in a slap that didn’t land as he was hanging way out of her reach. So all she managed to do was swing at air and honestly it was kind of funny. When Dempsey started to laugh the threads around his torso tightened, constricting the movement of his chest so came out was a pained, “heh.”
“Influence him,” Geppetto said.
“I’ve tried. My Magick only works so much on the living.”
“I’ve seen you use it on the living before.”
“It only works if the person is willing. He’s resisting.”
“Then kill him.” Geppetto’s drawl made a shiver course down Dempsey’s entire body.
Well, shit. He’d suspected he wasn’t getting out of this alive but having it right out there drove the reality of his situation home. While Mary was distracted looking in Geppetto’s direction he wiggled his fingers at his side, twisting his wrist so he could inch his fingertips towards his bag. C’mon. C’mon.
He suppressed the breath of relief when his fingers slid under the side of the flap, not wanting to draw any attention from Mary or Geppetto. With a long breath through his nostrils he directed his Magick into the bag, asking for any object that might help in this situation to come to his fingers. There was a bump as something rose from the bag and to his fingers. Keeping the movements as small as possible, he maneuvered his wrist so he could slip his thumb into the bag and then grasped the object between fingertips and thumb. Not knowing what object he held, beyond that it felt metallic and small enough to easily fit into his palm, he wasn’t sure what to do to activate it.
Please, he let the plea pulse through his Magick. Please.
The object heated slightly in his palm and he felt a flow of a foreign Magick seep into his skin. He had no more time to focus on the flow of it or speculate what Magick had been released as Mary turned back from Geppetto to him.
“Kill him?” She cocked her head. “Why didn’t I think of that? Yes.” She swept her gaze over Dempsey’s cocooned form. “I’ll kill him then revive him under my control. What a great idea. I’m so glad I thought of it!”
If Dempsey could have blinked he definitely would have done so at the way she so quickly morphed the idea that Geppetto had provided.
Why did Geppetto put up with this? Love? Or maybe she owned him too?
Before Dempsey could consider this more, Mary turned back to Geppetto. “I can’t reach him. Lower him.”
Geppetto’s answer was Dempsey dropping enough when he stopped he was almost nose to nose with Mary. Instinctively, he reared back. Almost instantly he was sorry for the movement as the threads holding his eyelids opened jerked so hard tears coursed from his eyes with the sting.
Mary lowered her hands and clapped, rocking back on her heels with her glee. “Should I stab in the heart?”
“Ribs,” was Geppetto’s dry response.
“His ribs might get in the way,” Mary said in a contemplative tone, like it was her idea and not Geppetto’s suggestion.
Dempsey tightened his hand around the Magick item in his palm and took quiet comfort in the pulse of Magick flowing from it through his body.
“I could do it,” Geppetto suggested.
There was a subtle shifting from the area he sat in, like maybe he was rising, but it stopped when Mary said, “No. I need to. I need a link to him to revive him. Since he’s a stranger to me, I need to forge a connection. Sacrificing him will form that link.”
She shifted to run her gaze over his cocooned length before shifting it back to center her attention on his neck. She made a hmm sound then pulled a long dagger from somewhere on her person. As she continued to study his neck she tapped the tip of the dagger against her chin. “I could slit his throat.”
“It isn’t hard.”
“It wouldn’t be hard,” Mary went on like Geppetto hadn’t said anything. “I’ve done it in other sacrifices. Remove the threads from his head and neck. They’ll interfere with the strike.”
Geppetto made no comment but the threads slithering away from Dempsey’s face was comment enough. The threads holding his eyelids open remained, but the ones embedded in his cheeks, temples, and hairline slid away as did the ones along his jawline and holding his ears flat to his head.
Mary took a swipe at his throat then rocked back with a frown. “The angle is wrong. Lower him more.”
“If I lower him more it will compromise the hold of the threads.”
Mary grunted in response then turned to glower in Geppetto’s direction. “Do it. He’s not going to fight.” She snapped back around to stare into Dempsey’s eyes.
“You aren’t going to fight, are you?” She cooed.
“Fuck you!”
“Well!” Mary’s lower lip pouted out. “That’s rude! I’ll make it painless.” She waved the dagger on the air. “Mostly.”
Dempsey tightened his hold on the item in his palm hard enough the edges of it cut into his skin. “You are batshit crazy.”
Mary snapped out with the hand without a dagger and slapped him. He guessed the angle was okay for that. Without the threads surrounding it, he had more movement of his head. Enough he rocked with the movement of her hit, which he almost immediately regretted as the threads in his eyelids pulled and his eyelids tore.
Despite the slight loosening caused by the tear the threads held. He still couldn’t blink, which sucked as blood flowed from the insertion points. Tears burned his eyes, mixing with the blood dripping from his face. Mary stepped slightly to the side to avoid the flow, a frown on her face as she brushed at the shoulder of her white cardigan.
“That almost got on me!”
The hurt look she gave Dempsey drew a snort from deep in his still constricted chest. Seriously, if he wasn’t in pain and about to die her reaction would have been fun to see. Of course he was and he was – in pain and about to die – but he guessed making her sad, if only by bleeding on her, wasn’t the worst way to go out.
With that in mind, he shook his head as much as he could with the tug of threads in his eyelids, trying to direct the blood and tears – and, yeah, a sniff confirmed some snot too – at her. A small wave of satisfaction flowed through him as the spray hit her in the face. Not the sweater but still pretty damned satisfying. Contemplating the spray for a mikro, he hawked up a loogie from deep in his tight chest and sent it flying at her face.
She let out a startled squeak and tripped backwards on her heels. Brushing at the spray of blood and snot and tears on her cheek with the back of her free hand, she gave him a wide-eyed look of confusion. “Did you just spit at me?”
Dempsey just raised his brows, the threads no longer in his hairline making the motion possible. Then he set his jaw and glowered at her. Answer enough to a question he doubted she wanted the answer to. Or hear correctly through her crazy filter.
“Last chance,” she snapped. “Give me the ring, crown, emerald, and crown or I’ll kill you and you will do it anyways. This is your last chance to get out of this alive.”
Like Dempsey believed that for a mikro.
“No.”
“Fine.” Mary’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightened, and in that moment she appeared as ugly as the soul Dempsey knew resided within her. “G. Lower him!”
Dempsey dropped further, low enough now that he could smell Mary’s breath as it puffed into his face. It smelled like mint and lavender and for a moment Dempsey was distracted by how someone so foul could smell so pleasant.
With no more warning Mary reared her arm to the side and brought it around, slashing the dagger across his throat. His blood geysered, spraying across her upturned face and pristine white cardigan. Laughter fountained out of his mouth, bouncing in time with his fading pulse. If he had to go at least he fucked up her dia and her pretty facade.
Darkness swept in from the edges of his vision, obscuring his view of Mary and he slumped into the hold of Geppetto’s threads.
#
“No!” The word burst out of Kim as she ran through the door in time to see a short woman swinging a knife at Dempsey who was hanging from the ceiling of the dark room.
With no conscious thought, she sent a wordless cry out to the elements, begging anything and anyone in that sterile place to respond. Where before she had felt no presence of Earth, Air, Fire, or Water all four responded to her cry. A surge of air flew from behind her and it carried with it hard pellets of ice and a spray of pebbles. From her feet a line of fire tore free, jetting across the room.
The woman beneath Dempsey stood no chance against the combined thrust of air, ice, and stone. It hit her in the back and flung her forward with enough force that she was lifted clear off her feet and she flew away from Dempsey with her arms and legs ragdolling.
From to her left a wave of shadow flew just beyond the surge of elements, obscuring the view of the woman as she cascaded across the room. And then ink flowed in a thick ribbon from slightly behind her and to the right, following in the path of the shadows.
Somewhere from within the darkness of shadow and ink a female voice emerged, screaming “ARFA!”
Kim wasted no time running in the wake of the elemental wave, her feet sliding on the slick marble of the floor. Right next to her Gwen and Siobhan ran, arms pumping, as they pelted towards where Dempsey hung.
Patti and Ivan ran forward, past them, chasing the ink and shadow with their shields held forward. Suddenly threads burst out of the darkness, weaving listlessly on the air as if they were seeking targets.
Pivoting rapidly Patti and Ivan bashed away the floating strands but more came out of the darkness.
“Lower the shadow!” Ivan yelled as he ran.
Kim didn’t spare the time to look to see if Ben complied. Instead her attention was fully and completely on Dempsey’s suspended form. Gwen’s foot slipped in the pool of blood under him, nearly causing her to tumble, but Siobhan managed to get an arm around her and prop her up which was good as Gwen’s attention was focused entirely on Dempsey’s slack body and not on her own well-being.
“No!” Gwen screamed and closed both hands around Dempsey’s throat. She looked back with wild eyes. “No blood!”
It took a mikro for Kim to process the words and then confirm Gwen’s point. No blood pulsed against Gwen’s grip. They were too late.
“No,” she whispered.
Her stomach plummeted and then her hands and feet went numb. There was a whicking sound in her ears and then silence, like she’d stepped into the center of a hurricane. Her head swam, her eyes burned, and she swayed on her feet.
She probably would have fallen, but Dan stepped over and grabbed her arm. Normally she’d flinch from the touch but, honestly, she was so numb she barely felt it. There was a faint tremor in Dan’s fingers and his gaze was focused on Dempsey’s limp form.
Kim was used to seeing him as this gigantic presence. Stoic. Solid. Propping up walls as he often did. Too large to fade into the background and yet unassuming enough that he kind of did. Arms crossed, as if he could minimize his size by keeping his arms close to his torso.
What he’d been unable to attain in life was now here in death. He just looked smaller. Diminished. Like Death had stolen that which gave him strength. It was fucking obscene.
“No!” Gwen snapped. “No! I can fix this!”
Gwen’s Magick surged, her hair crackling around her in a halo of curls and determination. She sobbed as she stared into Dempsey’s slack features. “I can fix this.”
The words wobbled as she started crying ugly tears, all snot and sorrow. She lowered her head and whispered, “No.”
“He’s gone.”
Prairie’s quiet voice drew Kim’s attention. She’d been so focused on Dempsey she didn’t see Prairie come up on her right. It was lucky Mary and Geppetto seemed to have fled or they could have straight up taken her out in her distraction. But, how could she be anything except distracted? How?
“No.” Hands still pressed to Dempsey’s throat, Gwen turned her head to look at Prairie. Her skin was beyond pale, making her dull eyes stark in her face. “No.”
“Yes.” Prairie’s gaze was focused a small distance back from where Dempsey hung in the cocoon of threads.
The room was lit by some means from above. Kim wasn’t wasting time cataloging the details. But the light was strong enough that every detail of the threads and Dempsey and the pool of red blood on the black and white checked marble floor were clear. But, when Kim shifted her attention to look where Prairie was focused she saw nothing.
Prairie walked past her, expression intent on the thing Kim couldn’t see. She skirted around Dempsey’s suspended body and walked a small distance before stopping. “Kirby?”
Kirby sprang to life next to her, all three heads turned up to her. “Help me?”
“Always,” One answered for the three. Then Kirby bumped up against Prairie, leaning into her side. She lay one hand on Hello’s head, fingers curled in the short fur. Then she turned back to the empty space.
“Dempsey?” A pause. “Tom?”
“Tom?” Siobhan whispered and slanted a look at Kim who shrugged because she had no answer to the implied question in the single word.
“Oh, you smart man.” Prairie’s whisper carried.
A clatter of footsteps on the hard floor drew Kim’s attention as Ivan, Patti, Ben, Abe, and Dan joined them near Dempsey.
“Smart?” Ivan cast at Prairie.
“He did something that kept his soul here.” Prairie dusted her hands together then walked over to stand next to Dempsey on the side closer to her. “We need to get him down. I think he has an object that protected his Spirit. We need to find it. I’m able to talk to him but I can’t affect his Spirit but I think if we find the item I may be able to.” She frowned. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Abe hovered close to Prairie.
“I don’t know. I can only hope. Please.” Prairie lifted glistening eyes to sweep the group. “We can only hope.”
Enter The Woods 