Touching Fire (Touch Saga) (44 page)

“The girl knows nothing,” Celia insisted. “This would be the perfect opportunity, before she has a chance to lose her ignorance.”

The girl? What girl? Then it hit me. Me girl. I was the girl.

My gaze swung around at all the jars and I swore. No w
ay was I going to let myself become bloated pieces in jars. Forget that.

Rounding on my heels, I bolted through the shelves, desperately trying to remember which rows I’d come down.
The last thing I needed was to be trapped there in that funhouse.

I found the door and wasted no time wrenching it open and throwing myself out into the rancid air. My feet took the stairs two at a time as I screamed Isaiah’s name over and over again in my head as loud as I could.

“It’s Celia!”

I reached the top and rounded the rickety fence. My sneakers pounded on concrete as I pushed myself down
the sidewalk, away from the car, hoping to lose myself amongst the buildings before Celia realized I was gone.

“Fallon?”
I heard Isaiah’s voice break through my panicked mind.

“It’s Celia!”
I said again.

“Where are you?”

“Fallon!” I twisted my neck around to find Celia standing on the sidewalk, making no move towards me, but watching as I ran from her.

“Fallon!”
Isaiah’s voice had me looking forward again.
“Where are you?”

“I don’t—”
The squeal of tires had me looking back again.

I cursed when I saw Celia behind the wheel of her car, speeding towards me.

Abandoning the road, I dodged into an alleyway between two buildings. It was too narrow for her to follow, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do so on foot. The end opened into the next street and I tore across and ran in the opposite direction, heading down instead of up. I estimated that if Celia turned into the first available street and drove up the one I was on, running down would keep me from meeting her head on. It seemed like a really good plan. Smart even. Except I could never predict that the end of that road stopped dead and I don’t mean like a dead end or a building. There was an enormous crater in the middle of the road about a hundred feet deep and fifty feet across.

Spitting out all manner of bad words, I pivoted and ran back the way I’d come. My gaze swung wildly from side to side, hoping to find an opening. Instead, I found Celia coming towards me
, a great, red shark descending on its prey.

“Isaiah…”
Even my inner voice sounded desperate and scared. I had no idea what sort of powers Celia had. I had no idea if I could fight her. She could easily over take me and … what? What did she want?

Thinking fast, I picked up a piece of rubble and pitched it into the glass window of a nearby antique store. The sound of shattering glass was deafening, but I didn’t give it any thought as I scrambled into the opening and jumped inside.
Rows of fancy tables, chairs and mirrors lined the way to the back where a glass counter sat. I bypassed that and went straight for the door marked
Staff
, praying against all odds there was a backdoor somewhere on the other side.

Outside, I heard the squeal of tires. I heard Celia calling my name.
I wrenched open the door and threw myself into the darkness.

For a full
heart-stopping second, I was back in Luxuria, trapped in the closet with that monster. My skin began to sweat and my stomach roiled before I shook the feeling away quickly and scrambled for a light switch.

Dim light sp
illed over stacks of furniture and mountains of crates and boxes. There was a single person path down the center leading somewhere towards the back and I took it. The broken corner of a vanity nicked my cheek, but I didn’t stop. I could hear movement in the other room, hurried footsteps following my retreat. My heart thundered in my ears as I reached the end and found a loading door. Sweat slickened my palm as I grabbed the doorknob and yanked.

Nothing happened.
It was locked and I was locked inside. I searched wildly for the bolts, hoping it didn’t need a key. Sure enough, it was a key lock and me without the necessary key.

Swearing viciously, I kicked
at the metal plate at the bottom of the door. Behind me, voices overlapped as I was joined by more than one person.

“You go in!” one voice hissed.

“I went in last time, you go in!” the second voice snapped back.

“Move out of my way, you idiots!”
a third voice snarled, this one female. “Can’t do anything right.”

I started to search for a place to hide. Maybe they’d leave if they thought I wasn’t there. There were enough crates lying about. If I could just climb into one…

The furniture began to dissolve like someone had just poured acid all over them, or a box of hungry termites. They turned to nothing before my eyes and I was left standing in an empty room with three very ominous creatures.

Not human. That much was clear. They were oddly shaped, too many bends in their spindly joints. The female was almost skeletal
with a mop of faded purple hair and shiny black eyes. Her skin was a pea-green that reminded me of puke. She smiled and between purple lips, razor sharp fangs glinted in the light. Behind her were two men, at least I thought. One reminded me of a pear, round at the bottom and narrower at the top. His head was oblong, resting on thin shoulders. No neck. His skin was a blue that clashed horribly with his straggly orange hair and orange waistcoat over purple trousers and blouse. The other one was miniature sized, had normal length arms and legs, but with paper white skin, black lips, black eyes and shaggy black hair that gleamed blue in the light. It might have been a woman. It was wearing a black and white checkered dress and platform shoes.

“And that is how you do it
.” Rasped the woman, flexing her long, disjointed fingers. The light lanced off the metallic tips on each finger like razor blades. “Hello little traitor.”

I would have been offended if I wasn’t scared out of my mind.
Isaiah, where are you?

“Come with us now,” she crooned, like if she talked softly, I would be more inclined to listen. “You won’t be harmed if you do as you’re told.”

“What do you want?” I finally found the voice to ask. “Who are you?”

“We,” the woman purred, dragging the
e
for all it was worth, “are the children of time. We are korrigans and we have been sent by our Mistress to fetch you.”

I dug into my pocket and came out with my
rawel. I aimed it at the woman. I was relying solely on the hope that she wouldn’t know what it was, or that I had no control over it.

“Don’t come near me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The woman blinked her black eyes, neither amused nor afraid. She seemed simply annoyed. “Stupid girl. Your pathetic devices don’t frighten us.”

Wonderful.

“Now come with us.”

I opened my mouth to tell her it would be a cold day in hell before that happened, or a hot day because apparently hell was already cold, when the lights around us flickered.
This wasn’t so bad, except every time they dimmed, dark shapes scuttled across the walls like giant spiders. The chilling click of scampering nails on concrete sent tremors down my spine.

“Be gone!” the korrigan hissed. “We got her first.”

The thing on the wall, creepy-crawled its way to the ceiling where it clung like a great shadow. I couldn’t see a single distinct feature. No arms or legs. Just a blob of black suspended over my head.

Then, in true gross fashion, it rushed down the side of the wall
in a way no person ever wants to see a giant spider move and hopped onto the ground. I cringed even as I backed further into the door. God, I hated spiders.

Inch by inch, the thing began to rise, growing to nearly eight feet before the black cloak shimmered off like a veil and we were staring at a remarkably beautiful woman made entirely
of translucent black. Her iris-less gaze fixed on me before turning to the trio by the door. Her full lips never moved, but when she spoke, her voice was breathy and almost melodious.

“
You cannot have this child,” she said calmly. “She belongs to Nyx.”

“Your stupid night goddess has no
power here!” the korrigan screeched. “We captured her first. Hunter’s rules.”

Didn’t I get a say? I wanted to vote myself off the island and go home.

The shadow lady seemed to expand. Her gown rippled and flowed like water running off rocks to circle the room. I scuffled away from the door just as a tendril lashed past me, painting the walls. The darkness seemed to shrink the space, making it air tight and hard to breathe.

The korrigans had no trouble though. They bared their sharp little teeth and hissed.
Their pointed fingers clinked as they swiped at the coiling shadows dancing around them like a cyclone. The force swept through the room, slamming into me like a physical slap. I threw up my arms as it struck my face like a cold, winter storm. The serrated bits of ice pricked my eyes, drawing tears.

“Attack!” I heard the korrigan squeak, but I couldn’t see just how they planned to do that.
I tried peering through the gap between my forearms, but everything was black and swirling. I took that as a sign that they might not be able to see me either.

With stealth I knew I didn’t possess, I kept one arm across my eyes and followed the ice-encased wall with my free hand.
Since there was no longer anything in the room, furniture wise, I was confident I wouldn’t trip. To my left, I could hear the shrieks and wails as the creatures battled. Every so often, I’d catch the glint of something metal before it was lost in an ocean of black.

At the curve in the wall, I paused, careful now. I had no idea how close those things were to the door still. I couldn’t risk bumping into them.
They sounded out of the way, but that didn’t mean anything. Only, I couldn’t move. My feet were fused into the ground. I gasped, inhaled an ice storm and pitched forward onto my face. I barely had the sense to throw up my hands, avoiding a broken nose. Concrete ripped through my palms and cushioned my kneecaps. Pain splintered up my legs, legs I couldn’t even move anymore. I tried twisting and clawing my way free, but whatever had me was sucking me in fast. It was already around my hips.

I knew there were times when I wished the ground would split open and swallow me whole, but that wasn’t what I meant.
I didn’t like the whole literal swallowing.

“Hey! Hey, help!” Between the two evils,
I picked shadows and spiky.

The storm calmed. The black waves vanished. But it was too late.
The ground gave a final bubble and I dropped into absolute darkness.

Chapter
24

Time always seems iffy when you’re plummeting into the great unknown. There was a lot of black and rushing air before I landed none too gently onto my backside. There should have been pain, there was a jolting sensation, but most of my fall was cushioned by the soft, red clay that could have doubled as play dough. It clumped to my shoes as I pushed to my feet and surveyed my surroundings. I was in a sort of tunnel with jagged walls and only a dull light filtering in from somewhere up ahead. There was a smell in the air, something thick and sour, like rotted meat that had been fried with bits of charred hairs. It was foul and made my stomach roil in protest. The taste of paste filled the back of my throat as my palms dampened and a chill crept down the length of my spine. I was alone in the darkness.

I started towards the light, bracing one hand on the wall as I scuffled my way forward.
Hot waves washed against me the further I went. The moist humidity soaked into my clothes and dampened my skin, making it feel itchy and clammy. The stench of it was vulgar, like a thousand unwashed mouths all breathing at once. I wanted to gag, to throw up, but I held my breath instead and focused on finding a way out.

My foot caught
on something. A ditch maybe. I couldn’t be sure, but I stumbled and tore even more skin off my palms on the wall trying to brace myself. I winced, but pushed the stinging away as I righted myself, only to be grabbed from behind.

The instinctive urge to scream was smothered by the sweaty palm that squished into my mouth. Long, blunt fingers cut into my cheek and I knew there would be bruises. A band of steel anchored around my middle and I was pinned to a broad chest that seemed to radiate heat like an oven. I hissed against the hand and tried to arch away from the burn eating through my clothes to singe my spine.

“Don’t struggle!” The voice was deep, male and smelled like the bottom of a public toilet. My entire body convulsed as I retched and twisted my head away.

“Hurry
!” a female voice snarled from the background.

With an insulting lack of effort, I was hoisted up as though I
was nothing more than a doll and hauled away.

No!

I flailed, kicking my legs and thrashing my entire body. I clawed at the hand over my mouth. I tried to scream only to have it swallowed by revolting flesh.

The arm across my stomach compressed
, crushing my ribs until my screams were nothing but squeaks of pain. I doubled over, suffocating as I fought to breathe between the ache in my gut and the hand trapping my cries. Tears stung my eyes, eyes that couldn’t see a damn thing through the vast blackness anyway.

“I told you not to struggle,” my captor reminded me with all the calm of a total psychopath.

“Don’t hurt her,” the woman hissed. “Khrane wants her alive.”

The hold on me eased, not enough for me to actually do anything except slump limply in
my captor’s arms and wheeze wisps of air in through my nostrils.

“Knock her out!
Quickly!” a third voice growled from somewhere in the shadows.

Fueled by fear and grit, I thrashed harder, putting
all my strength into every jerk, into every vicious kick and elbow. I caught my attacker a few times in the face, but it didn’t seem to faze him. I called for Isaiah, screamed his name over and over in my head until my temples throbbed.

My captor spat
out something that wasn’t English before tightening his grip on my face. My head was snapped back against his shoulder with a violent jerk and held there as he sucked in a breath. The hand over my mouth fell away. I stole my own lungful of air, opened my mouth, prepared to scream when the festering stench of a million rotting corpses stewing under an angry summer sun punched me straight in the face and I dropped from consciousness.

Fat little cherubs watched as I pried my eyelids open and squinted up at them. They leered their creepy little smiles
down at me from tufts of white cotton.

I frowned and blinked a few times, adjusting my vision to the flickering image hovering over me.
Was I dead?

No. The swaying shadows
came from the roaring hearth at the foot of the massive bed. The cherubs, with their tiny wings and round, pink bottoms were nothing more than a mural on the ceiling and I was in a room that was most definitely not mine.

Silk sheets rustled as I pushed upright. They fell in a crimson puddle in my lap as I observed my surroundings.

It was lavish with rich mahogany and leather furniture. Thick, red drapes fell over wide terrace doors and hung from the walls behind the bed, a bed that could easily sleep twenty grown men comfortably. I literally had to crawl across the great expanse to reach the edge and climb off.

Worn
Afghan carpets kept the chill from touching my bare feet as I padded to the door, only vaguely curious why someone would take my shoes
and
socks. If they were hoping it would keep me from making a run for it, they clearly didn’t know me very well.

The door flew open before I could even reach it and I jumped. A short, portly woman in a red skirt and white blouse waddled
in carrying a bundle of red fabric in her scaly and bumpy arms. A round, green face littered with warts peeked out from beneath a riot of brown curls that were tucked beneath a white scarf. Protruding, toad-like eyes flickered like the lenses on a camera as they stopped on me just standing there like an idiot, gawking. A long, flat mouth opened.

“You’re awake
,” she …
it
chirped in an unusually high, squeaky voice which would have been perfect for a talking mouse. “The Master was getting concerned. You’ve been sleeping for a while.”

I took a couple of safe steps back as she scurried deeper into the room, leaving the door wide open behind her, uncaring that I could easily bolt past her.

“Who are you?” I asked, patting my pockets for my rawel, but it too was missing. “Where am I?”

The creature placed the bundle down on the bed and I noticed she only had three short, fat fingers on each hand, each topped with square, yellow nails. She dusted them lightly on the white apron tied around her waist.

“I’m Isama, server of the high lord and you are in the Aumon region.”

Aumon. So I was back in Agartha.

She shuffled two steps to the left, away from the bed. “The Master wishes for you to dress and join him for supper.” She waved her hand towards the material on the bed. “I can assist you if you wish.”

I swear she was speaking English, but it hit the walls of my brain and bounce
d clean off as though she were babbling in some alien language. I had no idea what she was saying.

“I’m sorry … what?”

She blinked her reptilian eyes in three rapid successions. “Dress.” She took up the material and shook it open, unfolding a dress that was a little too much like a wedding dress for my piece of mind. “The Master wishes for you to dress.”

“Right.” I cleared my throat. “Look, I don’t know
how I got here, but I would like to leave now.”

Her head bent to the side. Had her face not been so oddly shaped, her expression could have passed for one of mild confusion.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured at last. “It wasn’t a request. Master has given me permission to force you if you do not comply and … I would really rather not. So, could you please…?” She shook the dress at me again

Awesome.

The dress was miles of silk, lace and gauze. The top was tight with steel sheets stitched between the folds to squeeze my ribs and straighten my spine. Two pieces were mashed into my gut, stopping just beneath my breasts, which were thankfully not being tortured by the dress. A filmy scrap of fabric covered my chest … barely. It looped up over my shoulders and formed cute teacup shaped sleeves. The skirt was voluminous and heavy, with yards of fabric that kept tangling around my legs. There was even a short train and I prayed to God I wasn’t being married off because there was no hope of running in that thing. I could scarcely walk.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked Isama as she used her scaly fingers to curl and pin my hair around my head. “It’s kind of … elaborate for dinner.”

“The Master appreciates elegance,” the toad woman replied. “It would be a dishonor to disobey.”

“Can’t have that,” I muttered through my teeth. “I, personally, appreciate breathing.” I tugged on the strange corset I was
squeezed into. “Does it have to be so tight?”

“The Master chose it.”

“Oh, well, if the
Master
chose it…”

My sarcasm went ignored as
the last pin was set into place and I stared at the picture I made in the oval shaped mirror tucked away in the corner of the room. I looked ridiculous. I looked like one of those creepy dolls people collected with the frilly dresses and ringlets.

“Come. Master is waiting.”

Isama led the way with me wobbling after her in pinchy shoes two sizes too small for my feet. They too were something from the Victorian era with silver buckles and three inch heels. They even squared off over the toes.

I couldn’t believe
this
Master
guy had this piece of crap just lying around waiting for some lost soul to stumble into his path so he could dress her up. God, what kind of weirdo was he? I had a morbid image of being made to play tea party with the Mad-Hatter’s evil twin brother, the one who wallpapered his house with the skins of his
guests,
and I shuddered.

Isaiah where are you?
I moaned inwardly as we traveled down a narrow hallway papered in textured crimson swirls. Portraits of Victorian ladies were lined on either side, picnicking on slaughtered lamb, strolling in a park of carnivorous creatures tearing into the flesh of mortals, chatting in ballrooms of horror with slabs of human carcasses hanging from the ceiling like a butcher’s freezer. It was a museum of pain and torture and I was thoroughly disgusted by the time we reached the winding stairs.

Wrought iron railings coiled alongside steps draped in worn, red carpets. It ended in a yawning foyer checkered in yellow and black tiles and I briefly wondered if
Tim Burton
had been the designer of this funhouse.

“This way,”
Isama chirped, motioning me to follow her left, through a doorway concealed by, surprise, surprise, red curtains. Red was clearly the color of choice in this place. In no way did this fact help ease my disquiet. If anything, it reminded me even more of death and blood.

I was taken to an enormous room with black rose wallpaper, marble floors and gold-trimmed everything.
A long, rectangular table sat in the center with enough chairs to seat a small army. The fire in the hearth flickered off the onyx slab and reflected in the gold strips running along the sides. Candles in gold candleholders sat on the right end, casting a warm glow over the two table settings. I would have actually liked that room if it weren’t for the massacred heads mounted on the walls.

They weren’t human—thank God—but they weren’t animals either. They were creatures with horns and fangs. Some had scales, others feathers and a few I recognized as
fledglings.

My insides convulsed as I turned on my heel surveying the horror immortalized forever in that room. Vacant eyes gleamed under the firelight, polished marbles that seemingly saw everything and nothing all at once. Each head had a gold plaque bolted underneath it, but I didn’t dare get close enough to read the elegantly scrawled scripture.

“Princess.” The quiet voice swept through the room, wrenching me away from the horrific view. I spun to face the elegant figure stepping soundlessly into the room. “We meet at last. Welcome to my dominion.”

I was struck by
how pale he was, almost ghost-like with his white hair, colorless eyes and gray suit. He held a cane in one, long, slim hand. But he wasn’t old. If anything, he was remarkably young, possibly no older than I was. Also, if he hadn’t kidnapped me, forced me into that hideous dress and had not mounted dead things on his wall, I would have even admitted he was actually really hot. But he had and no amount of hotness could erase that.