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The boat approached a wooden dock. It was empty. There was no greeting party, no one curious about her approach. She had the advantage. The boat came to a stop next to the side. Alice held her hat and the strap of her satchel as she stepped off onto the wooden platform. The ferryman pushed off and turned the boat around.
“Where are you going?” Alice asked.
The ferryman didn’t respond.
“How am I supposed to call you back? Are you waiting for us?”
The ferryman turned the boat and headed back to where he came.
“Wait, don’t leave!” Alice begged.
Alice’s eyes welled up with tears as the ferryman and the boat vanished into the dark cave. Her heart sank. She held her breath. She was alone in this nightmare of a place. Without her magick. Without a broomstick. Only her wits and what few potion vials she had left.
Yet, she wasn’t alone. Hugo was here. She was close. Her soul knew it. Hugo was out there. They would find a way to leave. Together.
She turned to face the task before her. The shambling, wailing ghouls. The rows of mismatched, cracked, festering, and decaying houses throughout the landscape. Somewhere out there was Hugo. Her Hugo. She was going to find him.
“Focus,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve got this. It’s a simple game of hide and seek. Duck and weave in between the houses. No big deal. You’ve got this.”
Alice tugged on the brim of her hat and pulled it lower over her eyes. She ran down the end of the dock and onto the cobblestone pathway. She sprinted onto the barren landscape, the crunch of decaying grass beneath her thick-soled boots, as she headed toward the first row of houses.
The ghouls turned toward her and shrieked; their wailing intensified as the sound grew. Every ghoul in the area wailed as if they were communicating with each other. It echoed throughout the land.
The three knocks became rapid. The sound of wood against wood. Wood against glass. It got louder and louder as the ghouls wailed. The ghouls turned and converged on her position.
Alice ran and ran. She ducked behind the rows of houses. The ghouls wailed, calling for each other. Her plan was unraveling at the seams before it began. She needed to hide. Being out in the open left her far too exposed. Alice scouted for any place to go.
She ran from house to house, trying to outrun the ghouls. They didn’t run. They only shambled closer and closer, like an unrelenting army of the undead. All eyes fixed on her movements.
Alice ducked behind a house. She bent over, placing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Her heart raced. A burning fire spread through her legs and spilled into her lungs.She struggled for air as she wheezed. She drew a deep breath, but it wasn’t refreshing. The air was rancid with the presence of death and decay. It suffocated her already struggling lungs. She gulped twice more.
What she wouldn’t give for her magick right now. The ghouls were relentless. Their wailing filled the sky. A crash of lightning thundered through the sky. The three knocks were so rapid, they became indistinguishable from each other. It was chaos. Chaos by design. An assault on the senses, beating down on the soul, driving someone mad. It was nonsense. Pure nonsense.
Luck. I’m going to need some luck.
Alice flipped open her satchel and moaned in disappointment. The bottom was laden with glass shards and spilled liquid. Her improvised weapon, while useful in dealing with the decaying hand, had broken her last connection to the powers of the arcane. She truly was alone now.
“No time to think about it,” Alice muttered. “You can’t stay here. You’ve got to hide.”
She ran to the nearest door, racing up the steps. Alice turned the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Damn it!” she yelled.
Alice flew back down the porch steps as the ghouls approached. They were almost on top of her. She let out a scream. They marched toward her. Alice ran to the next house, an old-fashioned country home plucked from the early twentieth century.
The three knocks were almost one.
She tried the door handle. The door opened, and Alice slipped inside.
Chapter 22
The Haunting Hours
Hugo furled his eyebrows and snarled, “I’m leaving.” The side of his lip turned up to display a vampire fang. He held the hockey stick out, the blade facing Thaddeus.
“How did you do you escape the mask?” Thaddeus responded in a low voice. “No one has ever reversed it. Tell me.” His face was solemn and his eyebrows arched. Thaddeus was rendered motionless, gawking at Hugo.
Hugo circled Thaddeus, each step crossing over each other, moving him closer to the hallway entrance. Hugo never took his eyes off Thaddeus. The blade of his hockey stick always pointed outward. Hugo gripped the end of the stick with his right hand loosely around the graphite shaft, ready to rear back and strike at any targets.
“You underestimate the power of my love for Alice,” Hugo said. “The love we have for each other.”
