Jeremy Chikalto and the Demon Trace (Book III of The Hazy Souls) (18 page)

“Run away, damn it!”

“No, I won't run.” Another crash.

Jeremy opened the door immediately after the
crash, and blasted the face of a spider who was recoiling. Bits of
spider face flew everywhere, and the body slumped in front of them.
Another spider leapt over the fallen one and shot a web from its
abdomen towards Jeremy. He closed the door and there was a wet slap
on the wood. He tried to open the door again, but it was stuck. Try
as he might, he couldn't open it. He wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Take cover!” Jeremy shouted.

Maren ran towards the back of the room, and
Tina reluctantly followed.

Jeremy formed a crackling blue globe in his
hands, and pushed the energy into a hard outer shell, which he
began to fill with explosive vibrations. He made it denser, and
denser. He took a few steps back and aimed it at the corner to the
left of the door, and unleashed his power. The globe blasted the
wall to pieces, and smoke filled the room. Jeremy flew through the
hole, and the room was empty except for the spider carcass and the
oasis, bubbling quietly as if nothing had happened. He darted to
the enlarged entrance to the root network, and peered into the
gloom.

To his horror, the jungle was full of
bleeding sacs, the head of his mother, Mateo, Ren, Frisky, General
Forero, and everyone else, joining his father.

A dozen spiders emerged from hollows, and
then fresh webs criss-crossed around the jungle. For Jeremy, time
slowed to a crawl. He saw the webs coming gently towards him, and
he swam through the air with ease, adjusting his body into the gaps
in the webs. He began to emit walls of energy that were tailored to
pass through the webs, and Jeremy blossomed out intricately like an
origami sun. Though the spiders leapt away, the energy sought them
out, and bits of spider were scattered around the vines like
rain.

But the sacs remained, and the blood flowed
from the mouths of the people like fountains. Maren and Tina
appeared in the entrance to the root network, and screamed at the
grotesque display. But the vine lattice was covered in webs, and
they couldn't climb down. Jeremy appeared next to them, and brought
them to the center of the camp, which had been spared from the
shower of spider goo.

“I killed them all. But I can't get my
parents down.” Jeremy bowed his head.

They all wept for a few moments, but they
were interrupted by a loud tap echoing out of the oasis-room.
Jeremy, Maren, and Tina looked up just as a long, gnarled tree limb
jabbed its way into the hole of the root network.

“Tut, tut,” said a voice. “Liverworts.”
Fedonis the Hermit appeared at the entrance to the oasis room and
hopped over the edge, bypassing the vine lattice and landing on a
vine bush, which he bounced out of and into a puddle of blood,
splashing Maren and Tina.

“They breath still,” said Fedonis with one
bushy eyebrow up. He helped himself to his feet with his gnarled
cane, his sackcloth clothing now even more soiled.

Maren walked up to the hermit in a fury.
“Did you just say they're breathing?” She pointed to one of the
hanging sacks. “They're dead! Why would they be breathing?” Maren
held back her tears. “Speak!”

“Yes,” said Fedonis simply.

“Jeremy, try again!” Maren clung to him.
“Try again to break the thread. We need to get them out!”

“Tut! It's what I've said and I'll say it
again.” Fedonis crossed his arms and shook his long white eyebrow
hairs fiercely. “A Latin root, it means to protect, to guard, to
teach.”

Maren faced Fedonis. “Go on.”

“Liverworts.”

Tina walked over and jabbed a finger at
Fedonis. “Out with it already! What are you trying to say you
smelly geezer?”

Jeremy constrained her and covered her
mouth. “What about liverworts?”

“The spores of the moss have been released.”
He sniffed. “Never forget a smell.” Fedonis cackled and shuffled to
the nearest vine tree, and began to climb. He scrambled up towards
the ceiling, still holding his cane. He reached over to Wantoro's
sac hanging nearby, and tapped it with his cane. Jeremy bristled.
“He bleeds from the mouth, and will forever more, until all the
oceans and rivers turn red. The ground water will be contaminated.
The oasis, too. We will all drink of the blood.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Why liverworts?”

“Oh?” Fedonis hopped out of the vine tree
and back onto the vine bush, again splashing Maren. He stood up and
sniffed in her direction. “It was a sign. I read the sign. And now
we'll look for the Mark to confirm, hrm?”

“What mark?” asked Maren.

“The Mark of the Beast,” said Fedonis.
“There.” He pointed to Wantoro's sac. “Go on up then, and have a
look. Bunch of ninnies.” He grumbled.

They squinted and could see a small mark
shining on the sac.

Jeremy grabbed Maren and Tina, and flew up
for a look.

χξ
?

“Some call it Chi Xi Stigma.” said Maren.
“Other's 666.”

“So what then?” interrupted Jeremy. He flew
them back down to the muck. “Can we save them?” he asked, staring
intently at the hermit.

“Yes, if you lift the Mark.”

“Blast it off Jeremy!” cried Tina.

“That won't work, you ninny,” said Fedonis.
He wagged his finger in her face. “To lift the Mark, you will need
to see the duck.” He rolled his eyes as if it was obvious.

Maren sighed. “And where is the duck?”

Fedonis looked at her sidelong, a singular
eyebrow raised. “Where all the ducks are. They will either say it,
or they won't. If it's time, they will say it. If it's not, they
will say only, 'Quack.'”

Fedonis turned from them and shambled away
towards the back end of the root network. He turned the corner and
was gone.

Chapter 37

An Octave Higher

They went back through the oasis room, and
began to walk through Maren's meadows.

“Let's just find someone, or something.”
Jeremy pushed the next door open. It was the first room they'd
entered without moss. Jeremy stepped through the door. A chandelier
twirled majestically overhead, shining kaleidoscope colors across
the slick black walls of the cavern. “Beautiful,” said Jeremy, and
he raised his arms up to savor a feeling of royalty he hadn't had
in a long time.

“Guys, there's a crocodile in this room,”
said Tina, pointing.

A sharp snapping sound made Maren jump and
she kicked Jeremy's shin by accident.

“Ouch!” He winced, then laughed. “Whoa,
fella.” Jeremy held his hands up in peace to the crocodile.

“Hello,” said the crocodile in a female
voice. She was ten feet away, an easy distance for a croc to cross
in a split second.

Maren straightened. “Do you happen to know
where any ducks might be?”

“I do,” said the crocodile. “But I'm not
hungry at the moment.” The crocodile snapped and waddled back into
the corner of the room.

Jeremy scratched at his
chin. “Okay, well could you
tell
us where to find the ducks?”

“Truth is, I'm sad,” continued the
crocodile. “I suffer from ennui. En-nu-i.” The she-croc sniffled,
then wailed a soulful wail.

Then Tina began to cry. “You think you've
got it bad! You're just a cold-blooded lizard. You have no idea
what we've been through.”

“What?” snapped the crocodile. “I have
clinical depression, you brat. I may not have broken up with some
boy-toy, but oh believe me, these tears are real!”

Tina balled her hands into fists.

“Hey,” said Jeremy with a leveled hand.
“Times are tough. But look at the bright side.” He gestured to the
lights dappling the walls, and then to the chandelier which
twinkled overhead like some majestic disco ball. Jeremy put his
hands on his hips. “I think we would all benefit from some
interpretative dance.”

Maren sighed.

Jeremy marched to the
center of the room and faced Maren, Tina, and the crocodile. “When
I was younger, I suffered from severe mood swings. My parents tried
it all, but I'll tell you
—
nothing was more therapeutic for me
than working out my feelings through a jam session.”

Tina stifled a laugh. “I'm feeling a little
better already.”

“Here, I'll keep the time.” Jeremy clapped
in time and stomped his heel to make a bass drum. Then he began to
hum a sad tune. “Yeah! Let's keep it going.”

Tina burst into laughter, and Maren giggled.
The crocodile began to tap its tail.

“Yeah, now you're feelin'
it! Hum, hum. Now an octave higher
—
hum, hum! Bring it down, da, da,
da, dee. That's up a minor third. Repeat. Hey, let's make it
faster!” He kept humming and clapping, and then began to tap dance
a funky beat. Now he was whistling a jazz flute solo. The she-crock
was wriggling its hips.

“I'm feelin' it, honey!” said the
she-crock.

“Just let it go,” said Jeremy, and he did a
triple front flip while snapping his fingers and keeping up the
melody.

“Mmhhmm,” said the crocodile.

Tina laughed, and began to shake her
butt.

Eventually, Maren shuffled her feet a
little.

They jammed for a minute and then faded
out.

“All right, feeling better?” asked Jeremy.
“How about those ducks?”

The crocodile smiled. “I challenge you to a
dance-off, young man.”

Jeremy scoffed. “Oh, please. I'm a Danseur
noble. I've studied at the Shidz de Ponts Academy of the Fine Arts
under Grand Master Ruffle. You have no chance.”

“Bring it on then. Girls, give me some
space.” The crocodile swaggered into the center of the room, and
began to tap her tail. Pat, pat, pat, pat. Then she began tapping
all sixteen of her claws on the floor like a drum corp. Bbrruptita
bruppita bup bup. Brrrrrrupita bruppita bup bup.

“Nice,” said Jeremy, nodding his head.

She opened and closed her jaws. Snap. Snap
snap. Snap. Snap snap. The crocodile jumped up on two legs, and
whipped its tail around, and the music paused while she launched
into the air. She stuck the landing and picked up the beat again.
Jeremy was getting a little concerned. But then she goofed, and
began to sing off-key in a strained voice. Jeremy shivered a
little, and it was over.

“The rhythm work was nice. Could probably
work on the vocals. I like to start off with a nice melody,
myself,” said Jeremy.

The crocodile stepped off stage and Jeremy
stepped up. He then began to whistle a jaunty violin line, his
hands clasped in front of him, chest out to support his diaphragm.
He sang softly and his voice was warm and swelling:

What pale estate the flittering bird
circles,

Small, wounded, with an exquisite song of
pain,

The cat's bassoon covering it in ecstasy.

I dug out the roots, the cat mauling
bark,

Loathe, we pulled splinters from our
paws.

The bird, weaning still from the blossom,

Suckles the air, and

Falling into a pool,

Drowns.

He padded lightly across the floor to Maren,
pulling her from off the wall, and twirled her. Then he slid
forward with both legs bent, released Maren, and sprang into the
air with both legs straightened to perfect points. He landed softly
and began to chant a strange tune, harmonizing with his own echos
around the room. He smiled and brushed his hair off his forehead.
He then began to waft around in subtle ballet form, his leading leg
changing to fifth position in the air. Jeremy faded the vocals into
a hum, still gliding about, when Tina ran to join him on the stage,
and he gave her a nasty look. Jeremy announced “pirouette à la
seconde,” and then twirled on the tip of his right foot, his
angelic voice returning with a soaring falsetto, and Jeremy spun
faster and faster, creating a wind. His voice climbed higher and
higher, reaching the stratosphere. Then he leapt into the air, and
there was silence. He floated back down and feigned sleep.

The crocodile clapped her reptilian paws and
laughed. “You are a ham, honey.” She wiped a tear from her eye.
“I've got chills and a big smile.”

Jeremy hopped up from off the floor, and
bowed several times to his audience. “Thank you. Thank you. Ever
since I retired, I always appreciate the opportunity to entertain
and enlighten good friends.” He dusted himself off and moved beside
Maren, who was blushing. Tina snorted.

“Tell you
what
—
I'll give it
to you, but only because I'm hungry, sweetheart. All that groovin'
gave me an appetite.” The crocodile used her teeth to open up a
door and then slid on through. “Follow me.”

The party travelled through a series of
doors, each one opening to a small staircase leading down, down,
down.

They passed into an earthen tunnel with a
stream running through. The crocodile stopped at the edge of a
sloping bank. The she-crock flung her head back, rolling a lizard
eye in Jeremy's direction. “Know anything about this?” asked the
crocodile with a disgusted look. The water ran red.

“It's just...,” Jeremy choked a bit. “It's
not what we're looking for.”

“Nevermind, the water should be clean
further up. That's how the ducks like it,” said the crocodile, and
she began to waddle off towards the source of the water. Jeremy,
Maren, and Tina followed.

The dirt was elevating at a slight angle.
They walked beside the stream, occasionally traveling over a stone
bridge to the other side to avoid a slippery bank. The water was
getting clearer and clearer.

“Sounds delicious,” said the crocodile,
running up a hill of rocks which created a waterfall. The stream
was wider at the top and the ducks were gathered there, swimming
against the gentle current. The ducks were multi-colored and their
webbed feet were a sparkly gold.