“What were those things?” asked Karen as she plugged Eric’s cell phone into the travel charger and then dropped it into the cup holder. They were back on Main Street now, with no destination, only driving away from the Goss Building.
Eric shook his head. He’d seen so many incredible things in the past couple years that he’d be hard pressed to find anything he wouldn’t believe. Ghastly, murderous spirits lurking in unseen ruins in the middle of unsuspecting neighborhoods. Invisible, psychic parasites preying on the sick in hospitals. Evil people with dreadful powers and sinister agendas. But it couldn’t be a coincidence that those things were haunting the very place he’d needed to go. Something was going on in Creek Bend. And if it was anything like his previous experiences, there was someone with unusual talents at work behind the scenes. “Projections, maybe?”
IT’S DEFINITELY POSSIBLE, agreed Isabelle.
Projections were physical manifestations of certain people’s twisted imaginations. Or at least that was how Eric described them. He’d met at least two people in his travels who could conjure them, both of them heavy on the crazy. Projections seemed to generally be harmless, as they tended to pop like balloons when struck with any amount of force. But in some cases, they could be made much stronger, which could make them far more dangerous to face. Even the unstoppable golems he encountered in his first outing might’ve been an advanced form of a projection. The man who created them claimed he was able to do it by channeling his very soul into them.
But projections and golems had always had some sort of purpose, whether it was to ambush trespassers or stalk unwitting prey, and they’d always been good at their jobs. These things had seemed…well…stupid.
COULD BE AN AMATEUR PROJECTOR. SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE HANG OF IT YET
That was possible, he supposed. He was by no means an expert on the subject. Maybe after you learned to create them, you had to learn to train them.
Or maybe the projector, himself, was simply an idiot.
OR THEY COULD BE FROM ANOTHER WORLD
“Another portal or rift or something,” he agreed.
LIKE AT HEDGE LAKE
“And in the fissure.”
EXACTLY
He knew there were other worlds out there. A great many of them, in fact. At least some of them, and quite possibly the vast majority of them, for all he knew, were inhospitable nightmare realms full of awful, unimaginable horrors. There existed fissures, portals and gateways through which these horrors sometimes passed.
“Whatever they are, I’m sure they’re dangerous.”
I AGREE
“And they aren’t there by chance.” He recalled the mysterious figure he’d seen watching them from the window as they drove away. Who was he? How was he connected to all this? Was he responsible for those creatures? And did he have something to do with the gray agents in Hector’s time?
Whoever the man was, he’d clearly seen them. He knew what they looked like. He knew what their vehicle looked like. And worst of all, he knew they were snooping around.
What did that mean for them? What were they getting themselves into? What was he getting Karen into?
That was the worst part. He never should’ve let her come with him. He was putting her in danger. She hadn’t given him a choice, of course, but that didn’t matter. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve insisted she stay home. What was the worst that could’ve happened? She’d be pissed off at him? It wouldn’t be the first time. And at least she’d be safe.
But it was too late now. It couldn’t be undone. The best thing he could do now was focus on the task at hand. And at least they found what they were looking for.
He looked over at her. She was holding the bottle in front of her face, peering through the glass, trying to make out something of the message within. Like the last one, it had been plugged with wax. The easiest way to get to the message within was to break the bottle. They were going to have to stop somewhere before they could read it.
“It’s driving me nuts,” she said. “I want to know what he found in that place.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright with wonder. “Do you think he had to hide from those things, too?”
“I hope not. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Those things were creepy.”
“They were! They were revolting! Oh my god…did you see their…” She gestured at her crotch.
“Yeah,” he said. “I did.”
“So gross!” She looked out the window and twirled a lock of her hair.
“Pretty nasty,” he agreed. He wasn’t sure if any of the other monsters he’d encountered had been…what was the best term? Anatomically correct? He didn’t think they were. He’d never looked real hard, of course, but he’d certainly never noticed a monster’s junk before.
Maybe it meant they weren’t actually projections. After all, if they were only projections, why would they need them? Unless the projector intended for them to be that way…which might have been the most unsettling idea he’d had yet.
“I mean…do you think there’re, like, girl ones, too?” asked Karen. “I mean, there must be, right? I mean why even have that otherwise?”
Eric shrugged. He didn’t know. And he didn’t care to know. He didn’t even want to think about it. It was bad enough that he kept running into all these monsters. He didn’t want to know about their sex lives. (He’d once been told more than he ever wanted to hear about the unromantic mating habits of corn creeps…and that was more information than he cared to have in a lifetime.) “Why don’t we concentrate on getting that bottle open?”
Karen looked down at the bottle again. “How’re we going to break it?”
Eric checked his mirrors. He’d half-expected to find someone following them, but there was no one back there. “Just like we did the last one. We just need to find somewhere to park. Out of sight, preferably.”
She glanced over at him, concerned. “Do you think the person in that building is going to be looking for us?”
“I don’t know. But it never hurts to be careful.”
She didn’t like that answer. She looked back at the road behind them and chewed her lower lip, nervous. “Where should we go?”
“Somewhere fairly quiet, but not necessarily abandoned, either.”
“The high school?”
He nodded. That might be perfect.
Karen pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling Holly,” she decided. “Maybe she can tell us what to do.”
“I think that’s a good idea at this point.”
Holly Shorring was a close friend to both of them. She was also a witch. Eric first met her last July in rural Illinois, when one of her sisters, Delphinium Thorngood, sought his help defeating a mysterious “magic man” who was systematically hunting down and murdering members of their coven. He was able to stop the killer, although at a tragic price, and when it was all over, Delphinium sent Holly home with him, insisting that she would be his magical guide from that day on.
That was eleven months ago, and she was now like family. On an average day, there was nothing about her that was particularly extraordinary, except perhaps for her peculiar way of making everyone who met her find her adorable. But if the situation should require it, she was fully capable of wielding a number of powerful spells. One of her most useful talents was glimpsing the future through a form of divination that involved nothing more than hot water and candlelight. It was useful for getting glimpses of the ever-changing future, but the downside was that the information gleaned from it usually came in garbled riddles.
Karen explained what was going on to her as Eric drove to the high school and found a parking spot at the back of the lot. When she was done with the call, she said, “She was at the store, but she’s heading home now. She’ll call us as soon as she has something.”
“Excellent,” he said as he took the bottle from her and opened the driver side door. “Hopefully she can tell us something about what’s going on here.”
“Hopefully,” she agreed. Then she squinted and rubbed at her temples. “Ow…”
“You okay?”
“I think so. Just a headache. Probably from all the excitement.”
“Take it easy,” said Eric.
He found another plastic bag in the back, stuffed the bottle into it, and firmly, but carefully dashed it on the asphalt. Then he fished the decades-old papers out of the bag, stashed the broken glass in the back, careful not to let it spill, and returned to the front seat. There, he unrolled the next chapter of Hector’s story and the two of them began to read.