times, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he stepped through the gate that connected Mandrake Manor to the underworld. Orange light bounced off cave walls as his gaze traveled around the vast cavern. Heat radiated beneath him, and as he looked over the ledge of rock he stood on, he saw a massive sea of molten rock.
“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered to himself. He turned around and saw August staring back at him through the gate, sitting within the circle of salt they created. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
August looked up at him, their hands still on the floor, and a bead of sweat sliding down their forehead. “I got this. Don’t worry.”
“Same here,” Frankie shouted, waving his hand in the air as he sat against August’s back, facing away from the gate.
Mat spun on his heel and peered across the cavern. He spotted a mass across the pit of lava, and when he squinted, he could make out the suit and bald head of Demetri. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he eyed the unconscious man.
“Demetri?” he shouted, hearing his voice echo back several times.
He didn’t move, and as his voice vanished, traveling into far-off corners, he wondered what else might hear his cry.
Mat squinted, looking left, then right, as far as his eyes could see, searching for any hint of how he might get across. The orange light vanished into shadows a few dozen feet away from him on either side, bouncing off jutting rocks that highlighted a path along the cavern wall but never joined with the other side.
Then he saw something, a faint glow of green, which took the shape of a person. Nearly a football field away, Mat could make out the shape of a ghostly person stepping off the ledge, their faint glow illuminating a footbridge that stretched across the lava.
“Of course it’s ghosts,” Mat groaned. He looked back over at Demetri’s unconscious body and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”
He inched along the rock ledge, hugging the side of the cavern wall as he climbed up and down.
He stepped down onto a large, flat stone, noting a much smoother path along the cavern leading up to the bridge. As for the bridge, it was everything he expected it to be. An old, one-person bridge made of rope and wood that looked like it might crumble to dust if he set foot on it.
“You’re not supposed to be here. Where is your guide?” a voice called out from the bridge.
Mat squinted, and wisps of green light came together to create a portly man with a bulbous nose standing in the center of the bridge. He wore a long judge’s robe which swished back and forth, and he waddled toward Mat.
“What?” Mat asked.
“I said you’re not supposed to be here. No guide either? I’m gonna have to call you in.”
Mat frowned. “Call me in? To who? For what?”
The man stepped off the bridge and put his hands on his hips. “Meatsacks don’t belong down here without a guide. Last time one of you wandered in, they started an entire revolution looking for their dead wife. Can’t have that again.”
“Wait, no. I’m not here for that. I promise. I’m just trying to get to my friend. Demetri. I accidentally sent him here.”
The man knelt down, using his finger to draw a symbol on the stone. “Accidental death is still death. Can’t have you mucking things up. Stay put for the guardians, unless you want them to chase you down and drag you out.”
Mat shook his head. “No, I just need to get across. Please.”
The thought of leaving Demetri behind while he was dragged out of here ran through Mat’s mind. He couldn’t leave him. Wouldn’t leave him.
He stepped forward, unsure what he could do to this spirit.
Cold air filled his chest, and he gasped.
“Lay off it, you old coot,” a voice shouted beside Mat.
Green haze coalesced into a familiar elderly woman as she stepped past Mat and pushed the man away from the symbol he drew. She kicked at the ground, and the symbol vanished.
The man looked up and sighed. “Margaret. I should have known this was your doing.”
The woman, whose name was apparently Margaret, straightened her back and crossed her arms. “Oh, shut up, Ted. Are you going to let my descendant pass, or am I going to have to push you off the bridge like I did last time?”
Ted stood up and straightened his robes, glaring up at Mat. “So he’s another Mandrake, then?”
“Yes. A bit too green to be in a place like this,” she turned and glared at Mat, “but I suppose this is my fault for sending his friend back here.”
“Wait. Hold on. What the hell is going on?” Mat asked.
“You called me,” Margaret said. “By reflex I suppose.”
“What? And why can I hear you?”
Ted scoffed. “This is very irresponsible of you, Margaret. The boy clearly isn’t ready.”
“I might not know what’s going on,” Mat said, “but I’m not irresponsible. I just want to get Demetri and go.”
Ted glared at Mat, much like when a parent gives that mommy-and-daddy-are-talking look.
“Regardless of his readiness,” Margaret said, “he is here now, and he is fetching a guardian. Let us pass.”
“Fine,” Ted said. “But he must report directly to that guardian. If he runs into anyone past this bridge, I won’t vouch for him. Understand?”
Margaret nodded. “Understood, you old bat.”
Ted stepped to the side and looked away from the bridge.
Margaret stared at Mat, then pointed to the bridge. “Well, I can’t walk across for you. Move.”
Mat started on the bridge, feeling it creak and groan under him when Ted shouted at him. “Stay vigilant! Things are not always what they seem past here.”
Mat turned back to nod, but the translucent man had vanished, as did Margaret.
He grabbed the two rope handrails and carefully put one foot in front of the other.
Halfway across, something wooshed overhead, bringing down a gust of hot air as he stumbled, knuckles turning white as he gripped the ropes as hard as he could. He looked around, but only saw the tip of a wing disappearing into the shadows.
His feet met rock on the other side of the bridge. Ahead of him was a cave entrance, covered in a black, shadowed mist. Something tugged in his chest, a desire to step forward and feel the shadowy mist fall over him.
Light caught the corner of his eye, and he turned, coming face to face with Margaret. “No, not there. Not yet.”
“What’s past there?” Mat asked, looking back at the mist.
“Death has many layers. Here, in the caverns, is one of the first. Beyond there is more danger. Not something for you. Not yet.”
Mat breathed in and looked away, the pull in his chest dissipating. He traced along the cavern’s side, seeing a path along the wall that would lead him to Demetri. He cleared his throat. “Demetri’s this way.”
Margaret nodded, and the surrounding light dimmed. “I can’t stay. Stick to the wall and get back through the gate quickly.”
“Wait, no,” Mat said, turning to her. “I have questions. Who are you? Why can I hear you?”
She smiled. “A distant relative. Margaret Mandrake. Your awakening should have summoned the last Mandrake, but the call came to me instead.”
Mat frowned at that, noting the look on her face. “Why you? Why wasn’t it Melinda?”
She shrugged, her form losing shape around the edges. “I don’t know. But I was deep into death, so my time up here is fleeting. Use the book in thirteen days’ time. I’ll have enough strength for us to speak again.”
At that, Margaret vanished in a wisp of green smoke.
“Wait,” Mat called, but it was too late, and she was gone.
He walked down the path to Demetri, carefully clinging to the wall when the path was only a foot’s width across. At one point, he slipped, the rock he stood on breaking free and tumbling into the lava below. He dug his fingers into the rocks in front of him and scrambled onto the ledge.
He could finally see Demetri, sprawled out on the stones in front of him, still unconscious.
Mat raced over, running hands gently over him, looking for any signs of injury. Demetri seemed fine, no pools of blood or protruding bones, just a slight bruise on his forehead.
Mat rested a hand on Demetri’s shoulder and gently shook. “Hey. Can you hear me?”
Demetri let in a sharp breath, then coughed. He blinked a few times before lazily turning and looking up at Mat. “Where? What happened?”
“Before or after your brother showed up?”
Demetri winced as he rolled onto his side and sat up. “I feel like a bus hit me.” He looked around, his fingers running along the stone, and said, “Wait, are we?”
“If you are about to ask if we are in the land of the dead or whatever, then yes, we are,” Mat said.
“But. How did you?”
“Frankie, August, and I opened a gate. It’s just over—”
Mat looked across the lake of lava, at the ledge with the shimmering curtain of light, and their way home.
As he watched, the curtain seemed to waver. A candle came flying out from the entrance, soaring right into the lake of lava below. Then the entrance flashed a bright light before vanishing completely.
“Fuck,” Mat said. And at that, he heard a faint whooshing overhead.