CHAPTER 30

THE HOUSE OF THE RABBIT

A sapphire glow touched the corner of Keech’s vision.

Spinning underwater, he looked toward the corner where Duck had escaped and saw that the stone door in the ceiling had opened again, allowing light into the chamber. Through the murky water, he made out a small arm dipped into the cold, waving back and forth.

Kicking with all his might, Keech swam toward the arm.

Just when he thought he would drown, Duck’s fingers grazed his palm, then gripped his hand. With a heavy tug, she pulled him to the opening, and his head broke the surface.

Keech pulled in lungfuls of air, and after climbing out of the hole, he huddled on his side and shivered. A new tunnel yawned before him, leading off to an uncharted space filled with the blue light. Whipping the soaked hair out of his eyes, he peered up into Duck’s teary, smiling face and muttered, “How?”

Duck reached back into the floor’s opening, sunk her hand into the water, and yanked out Keech’s bowler hat. She set it next to him. “After I climbed out of the room, I found a rabbit icon carved into the tunnel wall. I pushed it, but nothing happened till the room was full of water.” She shook her head. “I reckon the room wanted a sacrifice before it’d let me try to save you.”

They shivered together as frigid water dripped off their clothes. Duck said, “We need to get moving so we don’t freeze.”

They continued down the passageway toward the strange bluish glow till Duck stopped on the dirt path. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Keech…”

“Yeah?”

“I think we found it. The House of the Rabbit.”

The passage opened into a wide cavern, a boundless chamber of enormous height drenched in an azure glow. Mighty stone monoliths filled the cavern, towering ancient columns that gave the effect of curious citadels and strongholds. Riding a warm breeze, a dank scent rolled out of the subterranean arena, a mixture of spoiled fish and pungent sulfur.

“Not too inviting,” Keech said.

“But as big as a city,” Duck replied. “I wish Quinn and Strong Heart could see this.”

“Whatever we do, let’s stay vigilant. We may not be done with the Perils.”

Walking side by side, Keech and Duck entered the House of the Rabbit.

As they took in the ominous place of power, Keech wondered at the source of the blue illumination. The light seemed to shine from the cavern walls themselves, as if a cold fire burned within the granite. As he neared one of the monoliths, he saw that a series of carved glyphs decorated the stone. The images appeared to tell stories of past people living upon the sea and along shorelines, tales of long-lost kings and forgotten nations. Perhaps at one time this place of power had stood near an ocean, but the idea baffled Keech, because they were now beneath a mountain peak deep in the Rocky Mountains. “What was this place?”

“I’d wager we could search for weeks and never answer that,” Duck said. “But for some reason, this is where Enoch hid the Key.”

“I expected it to be more cheerful,” Keech said. “The beach at Bonfire Crossing was nice, like a pleasant dream. This place is like a nightmare.”

Duck’s face filled with dread. “Like the nightmare we shared back at the Moss farm?”

Keech pondered the memory of their mutual dream of the light-filled cavern. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. This place is something else. Murky. Or sick. Like the Withers has infected the rock.”

Duck sniffed the cavern, then wrinkled her nose. “You’re right.”

“Maybe ’cause we’re standing near a Dead Rift hole,” Keech said. What were O’Brien’s words? The Dead Rift was an event. Happened long ago, durin’ a time they call the First Age of Man. No wonder the air reeked. Nothing that old would smell nice.

They wandered for a time, not speaking. The cavern felt oddly warm, the way cold October mornings in Missouri would heat up by noon. Soon they were sweating inside their damp clothes. As they opened their pelts and coats, Keech felt an itch scramble down the back of his neck—a tickle, as if he were being watched. He scrutinized the shadows as he looked down various passageways, searching for hints of movement, but saw nothing.

They proceeded through the cavern, Duck walking a few paces ahead, till she rounded the next corner and gasped. “Keech!”

A massive granite staircase stood before them. The flight ascended through the dark space to terminate at the foot of a platform, a colossal white slab upon which rested a stonework table of some sort, bathed in bluish light. Two intricately decorated posts stood on each side of the altar. Behind all this was another massive wall of solid stone.

A long, slender object dangled between the posts, but Keech couldn’t tell what it was.

Advancing with caution, they climbed the tall stairs and reached the platform. Leaning against the altar’s base was a human skeleton clad in musty rags, a long metal chain and shackle held in its delicate palms. The wretched form had wasted away to barren bone and dust, a body that had been resting in the dark cavern for centuries.

Duck dared to lean in closer. “Another victim of the Perils?”

Keech gazed around, searching for a mechanism that could have killed the person. “I sure hope not. I don’t know if I fancy another puzzle.”

Duck turned her attention to the altar. “What was this place, some kind of church?”

“More like a shrine.” He studied the object that hung between the posts. It was a golden block roughly the size of a fist, secured with moldering ropes. An ancient-looking sigil had been carved into the face of the gold. Another rabbit icon.

Duck extended a hand toward the block. “Maybe the Key’s inside this thing. Maybe you have to open the square.”

“I wouldn’t touch that.”

Duck promptly withdrew her hand. Shuffling back a few steps, they inspected the altar. Like other places in the House, this pedestal had images carved into its stone top. When Keech leaned to fetch a closer look, he counted seven symbols arranged in a semicircle across the surface:

“What do you reckon those mean? Another test?” Duck asked.

Keech circled the altar, trying to decipher the markings engraved in the stone. “Maybe. They look awfully familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.”

Duck took a moment to study the symbols, pausing at the shape that resembled a small flame. “Wait a danged second—” she began.

“What is it?”

Duck’s eyes sparkled with recognition. “I’ve seen parts of these shapes on the amulet shards! They’re spread out over the fragments!”

Keech scrutinized each symbol again, thinking back to the strange lines and loops that decorated Pa Abner’s charm, but so far he didn’t see the connection. “It’s hard to be sure without having all the shards to compare.”

“Seven symbols,” Duck said pensively. “The Bible speaks a lot about the number seven, don’t it?”

“Pa Abner once told Sam the number seven means completion in the Bible, a holy number that symbolizes perfection. The number crops up everywhere in the old stories. Seven days to create the world, seven seals in the book of Revelation, you name it.”

“Whatever these symbols are, they must mean something important,” Duck said.

Keech continued to circle the altar, this time stepping over the skeleton propped against its base. Doyle’s mysterious journal entry echoed through his mind, a phrase Keech had contemplated for weeks now.

The skeleton holds the key.

“Duck, what if Doyle’s clue wasn’t pointing us toward Skeleton Peak? What if an actual skeleton held the Key?” Keech gestured at the shackle in the corpse’s hands.

“Hmm. Mighty interesting.” Duck studied the strand of rusted metal. “The skeleton ain’t cuffed to the chain.”

“Exactly. He’s holding it. Prisoners don’t hold their shackles.” Keech felt his heart kick up a beat. “Duck, we might just be looking at Enoch himself.”

Looking unsure, Duck peered at the chain, then at the dead person resting at the altar’s base. “You think that chain is the Key of Enoch? I was picturing, I dunno, a key. Something that could open a door.”

Keech considered. “Think about the Fang of Barachiel. It looks like a regular old dagger, but it’s a healing tool. Maybe none of the relics behave the way a person expects.”

“Maybe so. But a chain? That don’t make sense.”

“I’m gonna pick it up.” Keech stepped closer.

Duck grabbed his coat sleeve. “Wait! We don’t know what it does. It might turn you into something nasty the second you touch it.”

“It just might, but my gut’s telling me to follow through on this hunch.” Keech bent toward the chain—then stopped. “If this thing turns me into a toad, just step on me.” Smiling feebly, he proceeded to lift the rusted metal from the skeleton’s grasp.

As soon as the chain’s weight shifted, the corpse’s upper torso creaked forward, crumbling on the floor. The chain’s links felt cold against his fingers, but otherwise mundane, just like any other iron shackle. He winced as the rings clanged loose and dangled from his hands. Nothing nasty happened. He was still Keech, and not a toad. “Doesn’t feel like anything special.”

“Maybe you’re wrong, then. Maybe that danglin’ gold block holds the Key after all.”

Keech wrapped the archaic chain around his arm a few times. Again he waited for something terrible to flash out of the metal and into his body—perhaps the same kind of lightning bolts that had struck Big Ben Loving in the magical bonfire—but nothing happened.

A split second later, a torturous grinding noise made them jump. A large square chunk of the cavern wall had just slid aside behind the altar, revealing another dark passage.

“Why’d that door just open?” Duck asked.

Keech stared suspiciously at the corpse. “That poor soul must’ve been rigged so that when he falls over, the door opens. See?” He pointed to a thin, rotten rope attached to the skeleton’s midsection, a braid running back to the pedestal.

“But if your father came through here, how did all this get reset?” Duck asked.

“Maybe he reset everything when he came back to return the Key,” Keech replied. “He would’ve suspected, probably, that Rose would keep searching for it. He would’ve wanted to keep it hidden.”

Suddenly a loud clonk sounded from the posts on either side of the altar. The golden block hanging between the pillars slid down as the ropes lowered the block onto the altar. The second the gold touched the stone, the top of the altar began to glow, and a dazzling ray of turquoise light erupted from the block where the rabbit was carved. The illumination rose straight up into the House, a pillar of sea-green light that radiated into the high shadows of the rocky dome. The column was bright enough to make Keech squint.

Shielding her eyes, Duck asked, “Is that good or bad?”

“Remember what O’Brien said? How lifting the Key would trigger a charge of energy? I think taking the chain from the skeleton started up something.” He peered down gravely at the chain in his grip. “We’ve got our answer.”

“That thing is the Key of Enoch.”

Keech nodded with fascination. “When my father replaced the chain, he must’ve reset the energy for this place. And now we’ve just undone it again.”

As if perfectly on cue, a horrible growl echoed through the chamber. It rippled like dark water over the expanse, and they looked at each other in stunned silence.

“What do you reckon that was?” Duck asked.

The guttural growl rumbled again, this time accompanied by a series of answering shrieks and hungry cries.

“Duck,” Keech whispered. “I think we woke up something.”

In the distance, a congregation of long-limbed creatures slithered over the floor, cutting off the path Keech and Duck had taken into the House. Something about them was like the spiders that Black Charlie had conjured out of the mountain, but these monsters were more serpentine, like miniature Chamelia without the spikes or fur. Whatever they were, they moved fast and looked ravenous.

“Dead Rift creatures,” Keech said. O’Brien’s words returned like the echo of a nightmare: The Dead Rift happened when people first tampered with magic. Their meddlin’ tore holes in the fabric of the world …

“A gap into the Underworld,” Duck finished. “And those things have come spilling out.” Shoving her hat down tight, she scurried through the newly opened doorway behind the altar. “C’mon, Keech! We’d best skedaddle.”

Before Keech could follow, a mammoth figure stepped out of the distant shadows to join the grotesque rabble. It was a creature unlike anything he’d ever seen. Its giant head looked like a knotted tree stump, and its rugged hide resembled the color of old driftwood, dappled and cracked. Keech could tell the behemoth was as tall as Pa Abner’s barn.

Raising two heavily muscled arms above its head, the creature reared back and bellowed. The walls trembled, and chunks of clay shook loose. Keech turned toward the new corridor and sprinted after Duck, the mysterious chain still wrapped around his arm. The monstrosity dropped to all four limbs and lurched after them, followed by its legion of gangly smaller critters.

Keech and Duck entered a cramped tunnel, the ceiling low and packed with tiny stalactites. The cerulean glow that filled the House of the Rabbit poured into the shaft, turning the stone around them a greenish color.

Then the corridor ended—so unexpectedly that Duck smacked against it and tumbled backward.

“Duck!” Keech caught up to her and pulled her back up to her boots.

Shaking off the impact, Duck slapped her palms against the wall. “Did we miss a turn somewhere?”

“I didn’t see a thing,” Keech said. Though the tunnel was still empty, the sounds of the pursuing creatures grew in volume, a hideous chorus of gnashing teeth and wild grunts.

“Those things are gonna eat us alive.” Desperation blackened Duck’s words, but she didn’t stop feeling along the wall. “Wait! I feel something! Another rabbit.”

Keech squinted in the dim light. She had found another carving in the dead-end stone. He traced the rabbit symbol with his finger. “It must mean our way out is through here.”

“Through solid rock?” Duck pushed, but the symbol didn’t budge.

Keech’s mind scrambled for a solution as the clamor of approaching madness howled behind them, but he couldn’t think of a thing. In seconds, the creatures in the House would find them. Furious at their lack of options, he struck the rabbit icon on the wall with the arm wearing the chain.

His hand disappeared into the stone, then his forearm, as if the wall were nothing more than empty air.

The pure shock at seeing his arm buried up to the elbow in the wall almost made him scream, but instead, Keech yanked it back out and saw that his hand and forearm were still attached to his body. He stared at the chain. “What just happened?”

“Your arm just went through the wall.”

“Are you sure there’s a wall there?”

Duck slapped her hand against the solid rock. “Feels like one to me.”

His mind reeling, Keech pushed his hand into the stone. He felt no resistance as his arm disappeared in the rock, as if he were a ghost. They both gaped as he drew it back out, as whole as before. “I know why this thing is called a Key.” He reached out and grabbed Duck’s hand. “Touch the wall now.”

Duck swiped at the stone, and her hand passed into the rock. “How is this possible?”

“We’ll have to figure that out later,” Keech said. “We better get a move on.” The smidgen of blue light pouring into the tunnel suddenly waned as writhing creatures clogged the passageway. Clutching the chain in one hand and Duck’s fingers in the other, Keech reached for the wall again.

“Whatever you do, don’t let go of me,” he said.

“I won’t.”

Together they stepped into the wall.