Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Poppy whispered, “The hell is this?”
In the distance, the aliens hissed. After a beat, their steps thundered in Rök and Poppy’s direction.
“No choice.” He pulled on the lever. Instead of opening, the door began to vibrate. Whirring gears and sliding bolts sounded, like a bank vault opening.
The aliens turned the corner.
“They’re coming!” Poppy’s hand dove into her satchel. “I’ll create a portal to another part of the castle.”
He yanked on the lever. “We’re not there yet. I’ll tell you when I need help.”
Bogeys fifteen feet away.
Ten . . .
The door opened. Rök tossed Poppy inside and slammed the heavy door behind them. The aliens shoved back, claws pinging the spikes. A secondary maw extended through the growing gap in the doorway. Snap snap!
“Push, demon!” Poppy leaned in beside him, using her own immortal strength to help. “I should’ve made a puddle out of them, huh?”
He grated, “Can’t risk a fire.”
Snap snap!
“You’d rather an alien bite off your head?”
Claws replaced the maw, those spindly fingers stretching. . . .
Rök gritted his fangs and shoved as hard as he could, utilizing all his demonic brawn. Just before the edge of the door sliced the alien and sent spatter everywhere, it retreated. Rök and Poppy slammed the door closed.
Outside, the hissing and strikes faded as those same gears whirred, bolts clanking—a sprung trap.
Between breaths, Poppy said, “That doesn’t sound good.”
He noticed what looked like a steam-punk combination lock on the door—and blood all over its surface. “It locks from the inside. Sitrep, witch.” They whirled around.
She muttered, “Well, hell.”
TEN
Poppy and the demon had entered a room as big as a warehouse.
The scent of formaldehyde stung her nose as she surveyed their new surroundings. Flickering sconces and lightning lit the vast space sporadically, leaving shadowy alcoves. Layers of cobwebs covered haphazard stacks of books.
Above them, rain pounded against a glass dome inlaid with metal bars. A lightning rod protruded from its center. Wires descended from it to branch out like veins through what appeared to be a laboratory.
Some of those wires ran to multiple tanks atop shelves. They looked like cylindrical aquariums, only these were filled with green goo—and body parts.
“I’m getting some mad, mad-scientist vibes.” Despite the alien threat in the hall, Rök yanked on the door latch, but it didn’t budge. “Did the wizard lock his lab from the inside to keep something in?”
She nodded. “Judging by the blood on the door, whatever it was wanted out.”
“Why not just magically barricade this place behind him?”
“It must be a redundancy. Which means we’re trapped within a trap.” The bars in the dome made this place look like a giant cage.
Rök glanced up. “Maybe it’s not completely sealed. I might be able to bust through those bars and have us out of here in time for cocktails. Be right back for you.” He leapt the forty or so feet up to punch the dome. His fist recoiled, and he dropped right back down. “Bloody boundary spell.”
“It surrounds every inch of this place.”
“Fantastic.” Once all grew quiet outside the door, he glanced at her eyes. “The glow is muted. When are more of your visitors going to show?”
“It feels like I’m in a lull, but not a good one. I get the sense that their next visit will be like a tsunami of shit coming my way.”
“Our way,” he said, swiping blood from a horn. “I can’t believe we just faced off against dolls and aliens.” Not to mention those reappearing skeletons. Rök must be wondering how he and Poppy could possibly survive the night. “You have any blast power left?”
She shook her head. “I’m fueling the magic in those pouches but also the visitors. Every time they attack, their outlay takes a toll on me.”
“Once I find out who cursed you, I’ll torture them for centuries on end—teaching them the meaning of agony.”
Even as Rök’s ruthless words charmed her, she felt a murderous heat toward whatever foe had done this to her. “You’ll have to get in line.”
Rök turned back to the lock pad, trying to jimmy it open, but it proved as impenetrable as everything else. “Can you pick this? Wicca it up.”
“I told you—I only have my portal spell left.”
“No innate witchly powers? You’ve got to have something outside of your bag.”
I have nothing! Poppy was only as good as her pouch count. “I’m not a safecracker. Even if I had that talent, the wizard’s power was stronger than mine could ever be.”
“Okay, okay.” Rök assessed the area. “This lab is huge. The castle’s battery could be in here.”
“Or it could be in Poughkeepsie. Magic doesn’t often work like electricity.” So much voltage crackled in this place, her loosened hair felt like it stood on end. Or maybe her earlier realizations were spooking her.
What was at stake: That these embodied visitors will keep coming till they kill me and everyone I love.