CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

A single bare bulb hung by a thread from the high ceiling, casting harsh light on the floors and walls. The room was empty. No furniture, no decorations, no Devon, and only a hint of rot in the air, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that something was lurking in corners.

Reluctantly I backed out. “Which way now?” I said.

“Follow me.”

Harken walked slowly into the blackness with the poker, then veered abruptly to the left. I snagged his coat and fought the urge to grab his hand. We cut to the right, then the left again, my shoes slipping on the dust-coated floor. Harken stopped short, and I plowed into him. My mouth hit his shoulder blade, and I felt something warm on my chin.

“What’s wrong?” Harken said as he faced me.

I splayed out my fingers. “Blood.”

A handkerchief appeared in his hand. “Wipe it off.”

“I’m okay. It’s just a little cut lip.” I held the cloth to my mouth. “The bleeding’s almost stopped.”

“Good.” He took the handkerchief, folded it carefully, and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Malleus shouldn’t see your blood.”

“Why not?” I said.

“The blood of the Uncanny drives—” He stopped as the sound of soft cawing drifted down the corridor. “Music.”

“Where’s it coming from?” I said.

“Your phone, please?” he said and held it up to illuminate the ceiling. There was only sagging wallpaper and decrepit plaster above, peeling from the ceiling like flecks of dead skin.

“It’s not coming from the ceiling,” I said.

“No, from the heating vents,” he said. “Look at the walls.”

“Oh my god,” I said. The wallpaper was flayed open, revealing jarring and disjointed red letters, all spelling out the same words hundreds of times: BLOOD WILL HAVE BLOOD. “Is that for us?”

“Malleus’s idea of a welcome. Don’t let it bother you.”

Right, I thought. It was just wallpaper. That looked like skin. Flayed skin. “Still got the egg?” I asked. “Because I’m sick of being screwed with. It’s time to do this.”

“It’s right here.” Harken pulled it from his back pocket. “Remember, when the moment comes, we must give it to Malleus.”

“The egg for Devon’s life,” I said angrily, “is a trade I’d make every day for eternity.”

We made our way down the hall. We passed one, two, three doors. Harken tried each, only to find it locked, and none of them was numbered. With every step my eyes watered more, the tears occluding my vision, like I was swimming underwater in a murky pool. Malleus’s stench grew stronger, and every breath stung my lungs, the fumes leaving a metallic flavor in my mouth.

“Shh!” Harken said sharply and pointed at a door, mouthing the word Here.

I heard the sound of flat chirps and caws, like an off-tune flute. The door was several inches narrower than the others and higher, too, with ornate carvings in the wood and etching on the crystal knob. It looked like the lid of a casket.

Harken tapped the door and then reached for the knob.

The door blew open, and a murder of crows burst forth, cawing and screeching, black wings beating the air, attacking us with beaks and claws, ripping at our flesh with ferocious anger. I threw my hands up to protect my face, stumbled backward, and slammed into the wall.

I rolled to the floor, swatting at the birds. “Get off me! Get off!”

They vanished.

As suddenly as we were attacked, the crows were gone. All that remained was a pile of rotting feathers on the ruined carpet, and inside the empty room Harken kicked mounds of feathers aside. No Devon. No furniture. Just an old, crumbling fireplace, stained walls, and rotted floors. He cursed and kicked again, then shut the door behind him.

“Not there, damn it,” he said, sounding more agitated.

“Let’s keep moving.” Steading myself on the wall, I got to my feet, just as a wave of noxious odor seeped past me. “Jeezum, it smells like something died.”

“She did.” Harken held my phone light close to the wall, which was covered in paper that had been ripped to shreds, like huge claws had flayed it, and found a button switch. He punched it with a finger, and one after the other, three hanging bulbs started burning. “Malleus always leaves a trail of stench.”

But it wasn’t the Shadowless we smelled.

I bumped my head on something hard. I screamed and jumped back against the wall, then screamed louder. Harken raised a hand to calm me, but it was useless. My whole body shook as I pointed up. He followed my gaze with the phone light. The glow shone on a pair of dirty bare feet dangling at eye level. The broken toenails were painted dark purple, and though the polish was chipped, I recognized the shade. Siobhan and I had been seated next to her when the pedicurist applied it a week ago.

“Kelly,” I cried. “Oh, Kelly.” Her body rotated slowly, dirty hair hiding her face but not the rope digging into the bulging purple-black skin of her neck. “Please, cut her down.”

“She’s dead, poor thing,” he replied and tried to hide the light. He reached out to comfort me. “And there’s no time to help her.”

“She was my friend!” I knocked his hand away, then yanked the phone back. “Don’t tell me not to help. Cut her down, or I will.”

“I will,” he said. “I need something to stand on. Wait here.”

“Hurry,” I said and raised the light again. It made my stomach turn to look at her, but I had to see it. I had to be witness to what Malleus had done. “Kelly, I’m so sorry.”

Kelly’s eyes popped open.

I screamed, “Harken!”

Laughter trickled heating vents, and Malleus stepped out of the shadows. “So kind of you to join the fun, Uncanny. Do you like the present we left you?”

“Oh, my effing god,” I whispered as I saw her clearly for the first time.

She carried tailor’s shears as long as her forearm. Her face looked like a mask: The flesh was mottled and pocked with deep scars, and the skin was so pale it seemed translucent. But it was the eyes that made me shiver—black as midnight, the irises reflecting the naked light. Hanging from her neck, like mummified ornaments, was a string of thumbs. There were dozens, the necklace long and looped.

“Do you like our thumbs?” Malleus licked her razor-thin lips. “Shall we add your sister’s to our collection?”