The Nightmarys (29 page)

if he knew the right way, he was unsure he

could bring himself to go any farther.

Accidental y sweeping the ashlight at the

wal beside him, Timothy noticed a large iron

door, rusted black. Swung inward nearly a foot,

it revealed another dark cavern. Two L-shaped

brackets were at ached to the outside of the

door. On the oor lay a wooden plank, longer

than the width of the iron slab. When t ed

into the brackets, it appeared, the plank would

lock the door shut from the outside. Timothy

listened to the darkness inside. Very faintly, he

heard someone breathing. His own throat

began to close. “Abigail?” he managed to

whisper.

Moments later, he heard a high-pitched moan

from inside the room.

Abigail!

Timothy threw his body against the heavy

door and pushed it open even farther. The

rusting hinges squealed, but the door gave way,

scraping against the floor.

scraping against the floor.

As he shined the light into the new cavern,

the first thing Timothy noticed was a pale lump

sit ing in the middle of what looked like a pile

of rubble. The shape glanced at him, showing a

grubby face and black hair. Abigail’s eyes were

red-rimmed and wide with terror. Someone

had bound her mouth with what looked like

strands of white cobweb. With her arms behind

her back, she’d been tied to a wooden column

that stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

As Timothy took a step into the room, he

noticed with horror that the rubble under

Abigail was crumbling grayish bones. They’re

only bones, he told himself, feeling as though

he might faint. But then Abigail made a

pleading noise. “We’l get out of here,” he

promised. “Don’t be scared.”

Something was moving in one of the tunnels

behind him. Timothy spun, shining the

ashlight into the darkness. He screamed as a

pair of cobweb-covered claws reached for his

face. A Nightmary. She swooped closer, her

face. A Nightmary. She swooped closer, her

face shifting underneath her veil. He swung the

ashlight up at her, but his hand passed

through the il usion and the girl disappeared.

The ashlight slipped out of his hand, fel to

the oor, and rol ed against the far wal outside

the chamber. With a shout, Timothy toppled

backward into the room with Abigail.

Before he caught his balance, strong hands

grabbed his shoulders and pul ed him deeper

into the chamber. Timothy hit the ground as

someone rushed past him and out the door. He

quickly turned and glanced at the entry. The

beam from his ashlight moved as someone

picked it up. Timothy tried to crawl back

toward the metal slab. Before he could reach

out and grab hold of it, he saw a face peek at

him from around the edge.

Jack grinned and said, “Good night,

children.” Then the old man yanked the door

shut.

43.

Timothy blindly examined the door, searching

for a handle, but there was none. He shouted,

“Let us out!”, then quickly realized how sil y he

was being. This chamber was no il usion, and

the lit le tricks he’d been using to beat the curse

were useless now. Chanting a spel wouldn’t

work so wel this time.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

What would his family think when he never

came home? What would they tel Ben when

he nal y woke up? What would happen to

Zilpha on the stairs? Would Jack—Johnson

Harwood— nd her on his way back up? He

wanted to curl into a bal and go to sleep.

Dreamless sleep.

Behind him, Abigail began to emit a garbled

sound from behind her gag, and that brought

him back to reality. “Ack—Ahh—Ket,” she said.

He fol owed her voice in the darkness and

He fol owed her voice in the darkness and

nearly tripped over her.

“Oh my gosh, Abigail, are you okay?” He

reached out and touched her shoulder. Her

arms were yanked backward and her wrists

were bound around the wooden pole. “Here,

I’l untie you.” He managed to pul the gag

away from her mouth, but the rope around her

wrists was stringy and tight. He couldn’t even

tel where to begin.

“Back pocket,” Abigail croaked.

“What have you got …?” Then he

remembered. Her lighter. The one she’d stolen

from her father in New Jersey.

A Light in the Darkness. Of course.

He felt a smal square lump tucked snugly

into Abigail’s jeans. He reached into her pocket

with the index nger of his good hand and

scooped the lighter up and out. It clat ered to

the ground. He blindly sorted through the pile

of rubble, pushing the thought of old bones out

of his head. He located a warm metal ic object

and picked it up. “I found it,” he said. “What

and picked it up. “I found it,” he said. “What

do I do? If I light it, I’l burn you!”

“Try,” said Abigail, her voice wavering

desperately.

“Okay.” He ipped the lighter’s lid open.

Positioning it under Abigail’s wrists, he said,

“Pul your arms as far apart as possible.” Then

he pressed the flint switch.

A yel ow spark lit up the darkness, then went

out. From where Timothy sat, in that brief

moment, he thought he saw a tal , thin gure

standing in the corner of the chamber. A lump

formed in his throat. He didn’t mention the

sight to Abigail. He simply tried the int again.

It was harder now since his hands were

shaking. Another spark, longer this time.

Another glimpse of the gure. Now it was

closer, maybe fteen feet away. Timothy was

certain he could hear the shu ing of skin

against the wet stone.

“Hurry,” said Abigail.

Trembling, Timothy icked the lighter again.

This time, the ame caught hold, and shadows

This time, the ame caught hold, and shadows

danced al around the room. Now the gure

was closer, and Timothy could see it clearly. Its

dirty white hair fel across its skeletal face, past

its wide shoulders. Sinewy muscle clung to its

jut ing bones. Ragged robes, mere black tat ers,

draped the creature’s torso. It seemed to

wobble as it shu ed closer to the wooden

column. It held its arms toward them, its long

ngers tensed, as if anticipating a large meal. Is

that Delia? he thought. Abigail groaned.

Timothy didn’t know whether she noticed the

creature or if the flame was biting her skin. Just

a few seconds longer …

The creature continued forward, bringing a

horrible stench with it. Final y, Timothy could

see its face. Its eye sockets were empty, and its

mouth was already open. In its bot om jaw

glinted a single sharp black tooth.

No, Timothy now knew, that’s not Delia. I’m

crouching on what’s left of Delia. Ful moon’s

outside. That thing is the Daughter of Chaos….

The cobweb cords snapped, and Abigail leapt

The cobweb cords snapped, and Abigail leapt

to her feet. Timothy dropped the lighter. The

room was again pitched into darkness. He

imagined the creature slowly closing the

distance. He stood up, reaching for Abigail’s

arm. She hugged him tightly, then whispered,

“Where’s the lighter?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It fel somewhere

over here.”

Together, they bent down, sweeping the

ground near the column. “Got it,” said Abigail,

seconds later. Timothy heard the top ip open,

then saw a spark as Abigail once again lit the

flame.

“Watch out!” he cried.

The creature was directly behind Abigail,

outstretched ngers nearly at her neck. He

pul ed her away, around the other side of the

wooden column. The ame disappeared again.

When he took Abigail’s hand, he felt the closed

lighter in her palm. Together, they lurched

toward the large iron door.

Abigail whispered, sounding frantic. “I

Abigail whispered, sounding frantic. “I

remember being surrounded by the Nightmarys.

Next thing I knew, I was tied to that column.

Mr. Harwood was shining a ashlight into a

darker corner of the room. Whatever bone

Gramma crushed was a fake. He took the real

jawbone out of his pocket, whispered

something, and plugged it into that thing’s

skul . I was so scared….” Her voice wavered. “I

tried to do what you said, handle my fear. But

it didn’t work, Timothy.”

“That’s because you were real y tied there,”

he answered. “It wasn’t part of the curse.”

“Then you showed up,” she continued. “I saw

one of the Nightmarys come up behind you,

and when you swung, your hand went right

through it.”

“Right,” said Timothy. “An il usion.”

“An il usion,” Abigail echoed, as the idea

seemed to sink in. From the darkness came a

hushed exhalation, like a gasp through a

crushed voice box. “That was not an il usion.”

The corpse was growing frustrated. Timothy

The corpse was growing frustrated. Timothy

and Abigail immediately turned to the cold

metal slab, but without a handle to pul , they

were trapped.

Timothy heard Abigail ip the lighter top

open again. “Wait,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“It’l sense us. Don’t light it yet.” They

listened for a moment. The creature sounded

like it was near the wooden column. “In the

darkness, maybe it goes directly to the pole

where we were tied. Like a habit?”

“Or what if it can see in the dark?” said

Abigail. “What if it’s heading for us right now?”

Timothy pressed himself against the iron

door. “I—I have an idea,” he said.

“Does it involve drop-kicking this skinny

beast?” said Abigail. “Because if so, I’m total y

up for it.”

“Not quite,” said Timothy. “But I’m thinking,

if this corpse’s power comes from the tooth,

maybe we should try to take the jawbone.”

maybe we should try to take the jawbone.”

“What do you mean … take?”

“I mean, if Harwood stuck the jawbone into

its mouth and activated it, then maybe if we

reach in, pul it back out, that would deactivate

it?”Abigail laughed. “You want to reach into its

mouth? Are you crazy? How do we get close

enough to do that?”

“Get ing close won’t be the hard part.”

“And what if it doesn’t work, Timothy? What

if it grabs us and … does whatever it does,

before we get a chance to—?”

“I don’t know!” said Timothy. “But can you

think of another option?”

Abigail was silent. A few seconds later, she

said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You’re right. If we’re trapped in here, we’re

going to die either way. And I’d rather keep my

soul, thank you very much. I’l light the ame.

You do the jaw snatching. Deal?”

You do the jaw snatching. Deal?”

Timothy gulped. “Deal.”

Abigail pressed the int but on, the spark

burst, and the ame ickered from her

ngertips. The creature crouched near the

column, scratching at the wood. At the sight of

the re, it turned its head and glared at them,

then stood and once more began its slow

shu e toward the door. “Go,” Abigail

whispered, “now.”

Timothy pushed away from the slab,

barreling toward the mummy thing, his own

arms outstretched in defense. As he came

closer, he groaned. It had opened its jaw wide,

prepared to chomp.

Timothy shoved his hand into the thing’s

mouth, gripping the bone like a door handle.

But before he could yank it away, the creature

bit down, hard. The pain was unlike anything

Timothy had ever imagined. He tried to pul

away, but the pain only increased. His ngers

were now stuck inside the creature’s mouth. It

clasped his neck and began to squeeze.

clasped his neck and began to squeeze.

Timothy stared into its empty eye sockets and

saw his fate, lost forever in this hel of

darkness. He kicked at the creature and

managed to squeak, “Get … o … me!” The

creature responded by dragging his face toward

its own. It squeezed Timothy’s neck harder and

leaned closer.

“Abigail … help …,” he croaked.