Bad Apple (The Warner Grimoire) (37 page)

“So much for that,” the tallest figure wheezed, barely more than a whisper.

Boeman’s head snapped up. He scanned the tree line briefly, then smiled. “No matter,” he said. “You are all far too late.” The three figures remained in the shadows. “Oh come on,” he said, beckoning to them. “Come out, please. Celebrate with us.” Slowly, the figures moved forward, stepping out into the full wash of the moon’s light. Nathan came first, looking as haggard and tired as any man Simon had ever seen. He had almost a full beard on him, and he looked to have lost several pounds. Kate followed him, then Penny. Both of them were still in their Masquerade dresses. Penny held Malkin in her arms.

Boeman’s smile widened. “Brought the whole gang, I see.” His eyes found Nathan. “Now that’s impressive,” he said, pointing a finger. “Even I couldn’t have gotten him out of where they had him tucked away, Ms. Merrimoth.”

Kate bristled. “So the arrest was your doing?”

Boeman chuckled. “Oh no. He did that one all himself, but I
was
watching that whole affair with great interest. Tell me, Nathan, I simply
must
know--how did you escape?”

“No escape,” Nathan said. “Suspicion of kidnapping lands you in the regular holding cells.” He smiled. “Assaulting a council officer--that means you serve your time in one of our special cells--a
timeless cell
.”

Boeman stared at him a moment, adding up the variables, then laughed. “Oh that’s clever, Tamerlane. Truly clever.” He bowed slightly. “I salute you and your unending willingness to
shoot
the moon
.”

“I was out as soon as I went in,” Nathan said, stepping closer. “Wasn’t easy, I admit. Few months at least, maybe a season. See, time really doesn’t mean that much in there, and the phantoms who run the place aren’t really all that timely, which shows a real lack of discipline.” He stepped forward again. “And you just can’t get any sleep in there.” He popped his neck and back. “After my sentence was up I was released, right back into the thick of things. All that was left was to track you down.”

“Well, that’s dandy,” Boeman said. “You’re too late, anyway. Big hand moves around, and the hour is already slipping away.” He glanced at Nathan. “I’m not sure you’re even well enough to die, let alone fight.”

“Heh. Shows what you know,” Nathan said, swaying a little until Kate steadied him. He leaned against her, clutching his salt bag in his other hand. “I haven’t even begun to get myself in trouble.” He slowly looked at Streaker. “Hey pup. Now didn’t I kill you already?” Streaker circled around in front of them, baring his teeth. “Then again, you’re not an ordinary hellhound, are you? I’m starting to think you’re something
bigger
that just pushed itself into that shape. It was the way your body
sizzled
in the library that finally clued me in.
You’re a
simulacra
, aren’t you? An artificial vessel built to hold the essence of one of the Timeworn. So what’s your real name, pup? Adulz? Nollib?
Pazog
?” He opened the salt bag. “Stop me when I’m getting close.”

Simon struggled hard against the obelisk to no avail. He remained glued within the obelisk while Streaker’s eyes blazed hotter than before, his growl shaking the ground beneath them.

“You sure do growl a lot, pup.” Nathan wheezed, then he chuckled a hollow, rattling laugh. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you have no bite left in you, you mangy, old, decrepit--”

That did it. Streaker lunged straight for Nathan.

Kate dove left, Penny right.

Nathan stood alone, right in the path of the snarling beast. He dropped to his knees, throwing the salt bag aside. His last bit of strength seemed to fade from him. His eyes rolling back in his head and he fell forward onto his hands.

The hound closed in, faster now, foam flying from his mouth as he charged.

The ground in front of Nathan
erupted
. Dirt exploded up from the ground, and roots, and leaves, and muck, then it was all twisting, writhing into shape as it churned upwards. A large canine head formed inside the swirling mass of earth, followed by large shoulders. It didn’t have time to completely form itself, bursting upwards to catch Streaker mid-flight. The hound let out a loud yelp as it was knocked aside, momentarily stunned.

Nathan slowly lifted his head and smiled as the earthen wolf coalesced in front to him. Nathan looked to Simon. “Told you I had been practicing,” he said, managing a small smile.

Penny was next to Simon now, tugging feverishly at his wrist, trying to yank him free from the stone. “It’s no use,” Simon whispered, his heart pounding hard and slow in his chest. “I’m stuck.”

“Not good,” Penny whispered. She saw the silver leaf above the receptacle. “Dogs and devils,” she whispered. “Do you know who’s grave this is?”

“Not now!” Simon yanked harder to free his hand, feeling his wrist almost pop from the strain. “Get me out, please! Hurry!”

Penny hesitated, her eyes still fixed on the symbol.

“Penny!”

She shook her head. “Okay, sorry. Sorry!” She calmed herself and placed her palm against the stone. A moment later her eyes went wide. For a second she seemed lost inside herself, knocked down inside her own head. She backed away, shaking her head a few times before regaining her senses.

Simon’s hand slipped free from the stone. “Thanks.” He rubbed his wrist. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Penny said quickly. Her gaze darted back and forth before slipping behind the obelisk. “It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Simon said. “Are you okay?”

“Shh,” she said. “Follow me, before they see us.”

“No,” Simon whispered. “How did you get me out? What was--“

“Quiet, Simon! Please!” She turned to face him, and he saw it--her eyes were glowing, but they were a sickly mixture of blue and green, like ink dropped in water. Her face seemed drawn and thin, and she looked like she might be sick any minute.

“Our girl here is awfully special, isn’t she?” They turned to see Boeman standing behind them, his eyes normal again, voice calm and deep. “You are a real
rarity
, young lady.” He walked towards them casually, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing questioningly in the air. “What a little secret you’ve been, and a
Nettle
at that! Tell me, pretty little apple,
does your heart go
bump in the night
?”

A tiny shape mewed and bounded out of the darkness. It ran along the ground, heading fast for Boeman. Malkin tore up Boeman’s front, finding his face and tearing into him viciously. The kitten hissed and caterwauled furiously, his teeth biting and his claws slashing at Boeman’s face without relenting. Boeman fell back, his focus on the two children lost.

“Penny,” Simon started. “I--”

“Run,” she whispered. Behind them Malkin continued to hiss and claw. She grabbed his arm and kept her head down. “
Run
.”

They ran.

Boeman howled behind them. Penny gripped Simon’s hand tighter as they tore through the cemetery. “Watch the wall!” Simon shouted as they approached the grotesque, twisted stonework. “Stay clear of it!” Penny took a hard turn and ran alongside the wall, being careful to avoid the outstretched stone arms of the statues. One statue of an animal frozen mid-snarl almost tripped Simon.

“Keep going!” Penny shouted. In the distance they heard Boeman begin to shout, rhythmic and loud.

“Here!” Penny let go of Simon’s hand. They were coming up on the large hole in the stone wall. “We have to get through,” she shouted, breaking into a full run.

“The statues!” Simon shouted. “Something’s not right about them.”

“Don’t look at them!” Penny threw herself through the hole, spinning around after landing. “Go!”

There was no time to doubt. Simon squeezed his eyes shut and jumped without slowing down. Something hard hit him in the shoulder, and when he looked back up, the hole in the wall was gone. Every last inch of space had been filled in by the statues, dozens of stone creatures all silently screaming at him. Their numerous hands and claws and beaks and eyes were just inches away, every last one reaching right for his face.

“We can’t leave them,” he said, getting to his feet. “I need to go--”

Penny slapped him, hard, and he fell to the ground even harder. “What were you thinking?” She hissed at him.

She had completely knocked the wind out of him. “What was that about?”

“Why did you follow him!” She turned away. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed at the house? Why couldn’t you have just stayed where it was
safe
?”

Simon wasn’t sure what to do. He started to speak but hesitated, then he started to put his hand on her shoulders, but stopped. Awkwardly he backed away. “Penny, please.” It was a stupid response, but he had nothing better to say. “He’s the only family I have.”

She kept her back to Simon. “We’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said, her voice low and fragile.

Simon swallowed. “I had to follow.”

She slowly turned around. Her eyes were red and puffy. “It’s not safe here. There’s too much...
stuff
out here. A lot has been laid to rest that isn’t quite ready to be there.” She looked at the ground. “Some people are out here that shouldn’t be.”

Simon looked over Penny’s shoulder. Right behind her was a tombstone that somehow seemed familiar. In a moment he realized where he had seen it--it was the monument he had seen when he and Penny had connected in her father’s office. The inscription was clear in the moonlight:

ELIZABETH JULIET NETTLE

BORN IN A FIELD OF WHEAT

RAISED TO RUE THE NIGHT

TAKEN BY A HUNGRY RAVEN

AND DIED BY WAY OF BITE

“Penny,” he started. “I--”

Boeman shouted in the distance again, followed by the dreadful sound of moaning. This was not just one moan, but several, all blended in a terrible cacophony of wailing and dread. Moatlings.

The wail rolled over the graveyard at them like a fast moving fog, until it threatened to surround and seize them with its unearthly sound. Simon’s ears throbbed from the noise. “Where did they come from?”

Penny shook her head. “They’ve answered their master’s call,” she said, still wiping at her eyes. “Wherever they are, living or dead, they will always come when called, and their true form is always revealed.”

Simon looked towards the sound of the moaning. “How many?”

“All of them.”

Dark shapes began to climb over the wall, scrambling shapes slipping madly over the twisted, howling statues. The moatlings swarmed over the stone figures without any resistance, dozens of the black shapes cresting over the statues and falling to the ground in thick black clumps. The black mass swelled towards them, a giant grasping hand snatching at them from the darkness. A second sound followed from far behind the wall--the unmistakeable howling of dogs.

Penny grabbed Simon and awkwardly pulled him into a run. Simon pumped his legs hard--he was desperate to put the wall and the creatures far, far behind them. Tree branches lashed at his face like tiny corpse hands as they ran towards the next fence, the fourth one, or was it the third? There had been so many coming in, but now he could not recall how many fences there had been when he had first followed Boeman. The moaning never once faded behind them, only growing louder and closer. They ran over fallen, decaying trees, past crumbling tombstones, and mausoleums with weeping angels. They ran and ran and ran.

Until they fell.

The ground simply stopped under their feet, but it was gone too fast for either of them to react. Simon had no time to register that Penny had disappeared from his sight until he was falling too, dropping off an unseen embankment. Ice cold water splashed into his face. They had fallen into a creek.

He thrashed in the water, a sudden fear of water overtaking him. He thrashed his way to the shore, then found Penny and helped her to her feet, tasting blood in his mouth. Above them the moaning seemed to fall back, getting lost for the moment in the air above them.

They ran blindly now, stumbling over roots and rocks that threatened to send either of them tumbling again at any moment, leaving them at the complete mercy of what was chasing them. Miraculously, they seemed to be gaining distance on their pursuers. As they neared another row of mausoleums the moans and groaning had all but completely faded.

He stumbled again, tasting dirt and more blood as he hit the ground. He had fallen in front of a very large mausoleum with a small stone gargoyle leering down at them from the pitched roof. It reminded him of the tiny gargoyle they kept on the cash register back at the Paw. He felt a twinge of pain as he found himself wondering if Little Sam had survived the fire.

“
They answer the master’s call
,” said the Other Voice. “
All of them
.”