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I looked around. “I see no bones.”
“This is no graveyard, but only a ghostly repository. But the bones…the bone-walkers and the ghoulies and the zombinos…they travel in the wake of this creature. To create such an army…think of the power it takes.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to tell her that we already knew we were facing a god—it didn’t seem a wise choice to spill secrets at this point.
“I hear your words.” I would not thank her for her advice—that would be giving her too much power over me—but I wanted her to know I appreciated the attempt.
And then, turning back, I pressed my hand against the tombstone. At first, the energy was slow, seeping up from the soil. There was the residue from the ghost who had been anchored to it—hateful and angry and bitter. And then, as I searched, trying to sort out the blur of sensations and impressions, Morio fed me more energy. Without warning, in one long lash of the whip, the sky split open, and I was catapulted into the heart of Gulakah.
Chapter 6
At first, everything was dark and murky, and then a screaming fear shot through me as I found myself floundering in a sea of gray, murky liquid ooze. I blinked, shaking my head as I broke through the water and came up for air. How the hell had I gotten here? And where was here?
But a crest of waves crashed against me, thick and sloshing, and I pushed all questions out of my mind as I fought to keep above the surface. It was then that I noticed the snakes.
Fuck.
All around me, snakes writhed through the muddy ocean, snapping as they came near. I kicked, desperately trying to tread water—if this liquid murk could be called water. Viscous, it reminded me of paint, and was sticky and cold. The smell of rotting detritus filled my nostrils, like old briny seaweed washed up on the shore, and overripe clams.
As the liquid churned, threatening to suck me under, I noticed something moving just beneath the surface. Great, what the fuck was next?
In the back of my mind, I was hoping for something to hold on to, like a piece of wood or maybe, if I was lucky, a life vest. No such luck. As I saw what was rising from the water, I kicked as hard as I could, making a sharp turn. Exit, stage left. Or any place that wasn’t here.
What looked like a giant matte black eyeball rose out of the water. It rippled with veins, and hundreds of writhing snakes were attached to it, like the tentacles on an octopus. I wasn’t sure how much of it remained underwater, but the eye was as big as a boulder and I didn’t want to stick around to find out how big the entire creature was.
Terrified, I launched myself through the water, kicking with long strokes. The ooze tried to suck me down, and my skirts were getting caught in my legs. Part of me wanted to ask, How can this be real? But the fear in my heart, and the fact that I was swimming away from some freakshow monster, overshadowed the side of me seeking a logical answer.
I struggled against the sloshing waves. The liquid was trickier than the actual ocean. As I fought to remain above the waves, they battered me. I frantically looked for some sign of land. In the distance, I could see what looked like a faint silvery shore, but it was a long way off—and I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t going to make it out of this one.
I glanced over my shoulder. The creature was rising high out of the water, its body visible, and I realized I’d seen it somewhere before. And then, I knew who it was, only here, he was a giant, and malformed.
As he reared up, I screamed, some of the murky liquid splashing into my mouth. It tasted like mold and mildew and I spit it out, trying not to gag. As I treaded water, trying to keep the roiling waves from crashing over me, the creature continued to rise, deep and dark and from the depths of the Netherworld. It stank of Demonkin, putrid and dripping with hunger and unquenched desire.
Gulakah.
The Lord of Ghosts.
And he senses you.
I let out a strangled cry as the god turned toward me, his eyeball retracting into his head, the snakes now writhing like hair. Medusa’s coils. As he leaned down, aiming toward me, I sucked in a deep breath and dove, deep into the water, letting it suck me down. Better to drown in the depths than let him catch hold of me.
My lungs burned as I began to drift downward, floating free, unable to see. There was no question about breaking the surface again. Gulakah was there, and I couldn’t fight him. There was no escape.
As my lungs tightened, I steeled myself, preparing for the rush of liquid into my body, for the end. I didn’t know how I’d gotten here, and all I could do was pray that they’d find me somehow. Smoky, Morio, and Trillian would feel the Soul Symbiont bond break—they’d know that I was dead. Resigning myself, I gave in, embraced the ocean of gray, and as I began to let out my breath, I tumbled forward, downward, and hit my head on something hard.
What the fuck?
“Ow.” I rubbed my head.
First realization: I could hear myself.
Second realization: I wasn’t drowning.
Third realization: I was sitting in front of a tombstone, on the ground, and Smoky was reaching down to grab me up in his arms.
“Camille, are you okay? We couldn’t snap you out of the trance.” He sounded frantic, my dragon did, and he held me tight as I clung to him, my arms around his shoulders. The sensation of drowning still echoed through my body, and I was confused and on the verge of panic.
Morio rubbed my back and said something to Smoky that I couldn’t catch. But I could hear Delilah ranting at Ivana—so not a good thing. I tried to get Smoky to put me down, but he wouldn’t—he just held on and refused to let go, long tendrils of his hair reaching up to give him a better hold on me. Not that he needed it, with his strength.
