19
THE CRYPT OF MARLEY AUGUR
When Max opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness. He shut them again and tried to conserve his energy. He was being carried; something had been placed over his head.
It was impossible to piece together the rest of his voyage; he was not sure if he had sailed for days or weeks. There were fleeting glimpses of daylight and the soft patter of rain. Periodically they were permitted to relieve themselves in a bucket. The last Max could remember, he had awoken to see Peg hovering over him with a black shroud, muttering in a low, strange language.
And now he was bounced along, slung over the vye’s shoulder as he was carried down many stairs. Each step jolted his body. A door opened and Max felt cool, musty air filter through the wrapping around his head.
“You are late, Peg,” said a voice from his right. It was deep and authoritative.
“Couldn’t be helped,” mumbled Peg, her mouth frighteningly close to Max’s ear.
Max was dumped into a chair, and the cover was removed from his head. Pretending to be unconscious, he let his head fall to the side. Then, like a stain spreading throughout the room, a presence approached. It was very cold. The air seemed to vibrate and tingle.
“Which is the one the Traitor spoke of?”
“This one,” said Peg. She tapped the top of his head with a hard-nailed finger. “He’s pretending to be asleep.”
Max ignored her. He kept his eyes shut tightly and focused through his fever. An acrid vapor burned his nostrils despite the heavy, wet air. Water dripped from somewhere; the space sounded very large. Max heard something moving somewhere off to his left.
“It is all right, boy,” said the voice, hollow but not unkind. “Open your eyes.”
Max lifted his head as his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. He looked first for the source of the unfamiliar voice but could see only two small lights in the darkness. Alex saw them, too; he sat in a nearby chair, gripping it in terror and staring silently ahead.
They were in a cavernous room of cold stone; the high walls and pillars were wet with moss and shaggy growths. The only light came from oil lamps and a small fire to Max’s left. Suspended over the fire was a small cauldron that released foul-smelling fumes in sputtering fits. Beyond the cauldron were long wooden tables covered with beakers and flasks encrusted with black residue. Many books, ancient and tattered like David’s grimoires, lay scattered upon the tables. What really caught Max’s attention, however, were the paintings. Behind the tables, dozens of paintings were hung on the dark, wet walls like some ghastly mockery of a museum gallery.
Max looked for the way out but saw Cyrus, in wolf form, sitting at the base of stone steps that climbed up into inky blackness.
A voice in Max’s ear made him jump.
“Have a nice trip, dear?”
Peg’s face grinned at him in the dim light. Her hair was wild, and her cheeks had sunken to cavernous hollows.
“Peg, leave him be.” The voice spoke in calm, commanding tones. “This is a great day for our guest; do not spoil it needlessly.”
Peg scowled and retreated to a high-backed rocking chair near the cauldron. She retrieved two needles and continued work on another shroud.
“Where are we?” said Max, his voice sounding small and young in the cavernous chamber.
“You are in Éire, my son. Ireland. You are among friends in a land of poets and kings.”
“Is that you over there?” Max whispered, staring at the small bright eyes in the dark.
The icy points of light bobbed against the darkness as something came closer. A startling figure loomed into view.
He was almost seven feet tall, Max thought, and his bones creaked as he stood to full height. Steel-gray hair was wound into braids near his temples. A tarnished circlet crowned his head; an open band of thick silver encircled his neck. Frayed linen robes hemmed with intertwining designs in fading green hung loose about a great, gaunt frame. What flesh remained was drawn and decaying. His features tightened into a small smile while two pinpoints of pale green light flickered from within deep eye sockets.
Max writhed and looked away as the figure stood over him.
“I know I am not fair to look upon,” said the creature sadly. “That is to change.”
The creature patted Max’s arm and Max almost fainted; the touch was ice and the flesh felt as damp and moist as the surrounding earth.
“That one is strong,” hissed Peg from the corner. “We should bind him.”
“He is a beardless boy.” The creature chuckled softly. “He is our guest, not our prisoner. He will see the wisdom of our words.”
The creature turned to Alex. “And what is your name, my son?”
Alex squirmed under the attention of the creature.
“Alex Muñoz.”
“You are most welcome here, Alex,” the creature said. “I sent Peg for that one. How did we have the good fortune to acquire your company, too?”
“They were both on the dock,” Peg giggled. “They were fighting. We saved this one from becoming a murderer. Isn’t that right?”
The creature cast a stern glance.
“Is this so? Why would you raise your hand against a brother?”
“I hate him,” Alex spat suddenly, glancing at Max. “I hate everything about him!”
After weighing the words for several moments, the creature motioned for Peg. She draped a black shroud over Alex’s shoulders as if he had just come in from the cold. Max leaned forward.
“What are you going to do with us?” Max demanded. “Where are the others?”
Cyrus bared his teeth from where he sat on the staircase. Ignoring Max, the man walked slowly to one of the tables in a stiff, lumbering gait. “You’ve done very well, Peg.” He sounded distracted as he stirred something in a caked flask. “This one will most certainly have his uses.”
He returned to tower over Alex.
“And what was your vision, my child?” he commanded. “Be quick. Be truthful.”
“We are wasting time!” she said, her voice low and furious. “This boy is of little value—just like the others! I agree with the Traitor—it is the McDaniels boy we want!”
The creature slowly turned its attention on Peg, and for the first time, Max saw the murderous vye avert her eyes. Peg retrieved a thick book and pen from the table before hurrying back to her chair. The creature’s gaze lingered on her.
“I will be sure of that,” he said at last. “Perhaps you will explain to our Lord that his suffering was prolonged because of your stupidity. If we waste the cauldron’s contents on the wrong child, it will be your head that rolls.”
Peg gummed her lips as the creature turned back to Alex.
“Now, my child, share with me your vision,” the creature continued. “How did you awaken to the greatness within you?”
“Alex, don’t tell them anything!” Max hissed.
“Shut up, McDaniels.” Alex turned to the creature. “If I tell you my vision, will you let me go?”
“No,” said the creature. “Not yet, anyway. But I can promise other things.”
“Like what?” asked Alex, stirring.
“Power” was the reply. The word saturated the air and echoed rich and heavy throughout the chamber. Alex squirmed and sat up in his seat.
“Command,” the creature continued. “Recognition. Reward. All you desire deep down in your heart. Rowan is in winter; her flowers are few and fading. Why toil as a servant of mankind when you can be its master?”
Alex said nothing. The rotting creature smiled at him.
“Does Peg frighten you?” he asked, pointing at the vye, which sat watching them with narrowed eyes.
Alex nodded.
“Why fear Peg when she could be your slave?” asked the creature.
“Alex!” Max whispered. “Don’t listen. It’s a lie!”
Alex shot Max a dark look.
“No,” intoned the creature, rising to its full height. “It is not a lie and he knows it. Don’t you, Alex? You know I speak the truth.”
Alex nodded slightly. “I’ll tell you,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you.”
The creature grunted its approval and began pouring a gurgling liquid from a crusted flask into a wooden cup.
Alex told a tale of a day when he spied a giant oyster in his father’s swimming pool that had suddenly opened to reveal a black pearl the size of a billiard ball. Throughout the story, Max heard the sound of Peg scribbling the account into the thick book on her lap.
“A glorious vision,” said the man, bending to offer Alex a sip from the cup. “You are not whom we seek, but I salute the greatness within you.”
Alex looked doubtful. He sniffed at the liquid and wrinkled his nose.
“Do I have to?” he asked.
“If you truly desire all I have promised,” the creature said, closing Alex’s fingers around the cup. “Our Lord shall soon be free to rule and all shall be as I have said. He does not reward cowardice, however—”
“I’m not a coward!” insisted Alex, swallowing the concoction. He gagged and retched but managed to force it down. Black liquid dribbled at the corners of his mouth. He dropped the cup to the floor, grinning defiantly at Max. Suddenly, the older boy’s eyelids closed and his head fell forward as the shroud began to shimmer and glow. To Max, it looked as though Alex had just drained a cup of tar and died on the spot.
“What did you do to him?” Max yelled, his words echoing in the large stone space.
Peg started giggling and resumed her knitting.
“He has begun his journey,” said the creature thoughtfully, patting Alex’s head and stooping to retrieve the cup. “And now we can turn to you. I’ve been very anxious to meet you, Max McDaniels.”
The thing turned again and looked down at Max.
“Tell me, child. What was your vision? What did you see that day when you became known to us?” His tone was kindly and inviting.
“I don’t remember,” Max said evenly, looking away.
“Do not be difficult,” the creature warned. “You do remember! I still remember mine, and it occurred centuries ago.”
“You’re one of us?” Max asked, incredulous.
“I am not,” snapped the sharp reply. “I renounced that Order long ago.”
“Who are you?” Max demanded. “Why are you doing this to us?”
The creature turned and placed Alex’s cup back on the table, his voice heavy and sad.
“Tell me, boy. Is the name Marley Augur known to you?”
“No,” replied Max, shaking his head.
“Is the name Elias Bram known to you?”
“Yes,” said Max.
The air in the chamber grew colder; the massive figure was very still.
“And what do you know of Elias Bram?” asked the creature quietly.
“He was the last Ascendant. He sacrificed himself at Solas so some could flee—”
The creature’s lank gray strands of hair whipped around as it turned; its face was a trembling mask of stretched and tattered skin.
“Lies!”
The word shook the chamber like an earthquake. A glass beaker fell and shattered on the floor. Max shrank and shut his eyes.
“Those are lies,” the creature repeated, its voice softening to a low rumble. “Forgive my anger; the injustice of your words salts old wounds. Bram did not sacrifice himself that day. He sacrificed me. My body. My honor. My legacy.”
“You were with him?” asked Max. “You were at Solas?”
“I was,” the creature said, nodding. “It was I, Marley Augur, the blacksmith, who sounded the alarm when the Enemy was sighted. It was I who fulfilled my duty and ran to the breach while Bram ran to his wife. It was I who staunched the tide while Bram lingered….”
Augur’s voice rasped; the small green lights in his eyes danced and flickered.
“I felled many, ere I was broken.” He sighed, bowing his head.
“But then, you’re a hero,” breathed Max.
The towering thing shook its head violently and glared at Max.
“A hero? No, boy, I most assuredly am not. Heroes are remembered! Heroes are secured a place in the memories of their people. They are not left to rot, unburied, unwept, and forgotten on the field!”
Max winced as the creature’s voice again rose in pitch and intensity. Peg giggled softly in the corner.
“But I was spared that day,” returned the hollow whisper. “Spared by an Enemy blessed with a wisdom and goodness that had been hidden from me. Before I fell, the Lord Astaroth saw my quality. He commanded his servants to bear my body away. I was given a seat of honor, and I have learned the errors of my old allegiance. I have a new Lord, and it is for him that Marley has begun his great work.”
Max suddenly flushed with anger.
“What ‘great work’? You’re just a traitor seeking revenge!”
“You are young, boy,” said Augur calmly, arranging beakers on the table. “Do not be so hasty. Revenge is a powerful force, a force that has birthed many great things. Vengeance lends purpose; it is vengeance that has kept me alive these many years to create my masterworks.”
Max shrank against his chair as Augur leaned closer. Slowly, gently, the man swung Max’s chair around.
Max cried out as he saw them against the far wall: dozens of children standing pale and ghostly in the shadows of a large alcove. Each was draped in a black shroud, swaying on unsure feet. Some appeared to be mere zombies, staring ahead with sightless eyes; others betrayed a hint of awareness as they gazed at Max.
“The children shall serve our cause, and they shall be rewarded. When Astaroth is victorious, they shall hold dominion and rule as noble lords upon this earth!”
One girl with tangled brown hair caught his eye. To Max’s horror, she whispered, “Run.”
“Oh my God,” whispered Max. “Look at them! Look at what you’re doing to them!”
“I am sparing them betrayal! I am sparing them my pain!” roared Augur, spinning Max’s chair away from the children to face the stairs again. In a spasm of anger, he seized Max’s face. Max gasped—the fingers were so cold he feared his heart would stop. Augur relaxed his grip; his other arm pried the hand away.
“I have heard Bram’s apple was salvaged,” Augur muttered, walking away quickly to a chest pushed against the wall. He opened the lid and reached inside. “I have heard it is prized as a trophy! That it hangs in a place of honor…”
Something heavy landed in Max’s lap. It was a large apple, its wrinkled, moldy skin marbled with many veins of tarnished gold.
“This should hang in its stead,” intoned Augur. “It will hang in Bram’s stead, and you will help me place it there.”
The vyes then descended on Max. Peg held her knife to Max’s throat while Cyrus tied him tightly to the chair with a heavy rope.
“Wait—” said Max, straining to lift his chin away from the knife.
Augur dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“The time for talk is past,” he said. “Astaroth shall judge what to do with you.”
“You’d better pray you’re the one,” Peg hissed in Max’s ear just as Cyrus gagged Max with a filthy rag. “If not, the elixir’s worthless and Marley will be in no mood to save you.”
The vye tapped a sharp nail against his head and left him. Sweat poured off Max. He strained against the ropes, but Cyrus’s knots were clever and only cinched tighter. All the while, he kept an eye on Peg, who had begun appraising paintings like an art critic, occasionally plucking one off the wall. Max gave a little groan as he saw Peg select the Rembrandt and Vermeer that David had identified as likely prisons.
All the while, Marley Augur chanted slow, strange words in his deep voice.
The chamber became very still—as if every living creature and even the surrounding earth and stone bore witness to the ceremony.
Max felt a sudden flash of pain as Peg’s knife reopened the wound on his palm. He had not seen her approach. She pried his fingers open, pulling the skin apart and squeezing the flesh until his hand felt cold and weak.
Peg brought a shallow bowl of Max’s blood to Augur. The blacksmith’s solemn chanting became louder; his fingers beckoned at the blood as if seeking to draw something from it. Max looked away as Augur dripped and stirred his blood into the cauldron. Staring at the apple in his lap, Max fought to control his breathing as he watched the firelight dance on the gold that marbled its surface.
The chanting faded into silence.
“The incantation is finished,” Augur croaked. “The elixir is complete.”
Peg grinned and tittered as she selected a large canvas and propped it before him. It was a terrifying painting—the image of a wild-eyed giant devouring the body of a man.
Marley Augur dipped a heavy-bristled brush into the cauldron. A thick, shimmering glaze was applied to the giant’s face.
“You are free, Astaroth, to walk once again as Lord upon this Earth. The Old Magic of your enemies recalls you to life and releases you from your bonds!”
Augur bowed his head while Peg and Cyrus edged away.
Nothing happened.
“Put more on!” hissed Peg, but Augur spun and glowered at her.
“I will spend nothing on more of your foolish guesses!” Augur snapped. “Bring the next!”
Augur repeated the ritual with several more paintings, becoming increasingly agitated.
“So help me, Peg,” muttered Augur, a rising anger in his voice as he scraped and stirred the cauldron’s remaining contents.
Max held his breath as the Vermeer was brought forward, the one with the girl reading her letter at the window. A trembling whine sounded from Cyrus’s throat; the vye loped back to the staircase, almost disappearing within its shadows.
When the elixir was wasted on several more paintings, Augur’s rage was hideous; he snapped their thick frames like matchsticks.
Augur stood bowed and panting while Peg propped up the Rembrandt, her face white with fear. Max’s eyes swept over the familiar painting’s dark and stormy surface. An angel had arrived to stop Abraham just before the old man sacrificed his son. Abraham appeared surprised; the knife fell from one hand as he covered the son’s eyes with the other.
With a disdainful glance at Peg, Augur scraped the brush around the cauldron’s rim and dabbed it on Abraham’s face.
“Peg, you are fin—” he began.
“Wait!” shrieked Peg, backing away from Augur. “Something’s happening!”
Max squinted at the painting, trying to make out Abraham’s face beneath the shiny elixir.
His breathing came to a halt; the only sound he heard was his own heartbeat.
Abraham was looking at him.
There was an ancient, knowing wisdom to the eyes—something deeply unsettling about the way they wandered over Max’s face and bindings. They might have been a million years old.
Marley Augur and Peg bowed low before the painting.
“Astaroth, you are recalled to life by your loyal servants,” said the blacksmith, his voice filled with reverence. “Walk this Earth again, my Lord, and bring order with your rule.”
Max’s fear boiled over as the eyes ignored Augur and continued to look at him. His hands trembled, and the hairs on his neck stood on end.
With a furious surge, Max shattered the chair and bindings that held him. Spitting out the gag, he clutched Augur’s apple and bolted for the stairs. Cyrus rose from his seat and blocked Max’s way.
“Solas!” Max yelled, flexing the fingers of his wounded hand and filling the chamber with a flash of blinding light.
Max leapt over the vye as it howled and doubled over. He sprinted up the steps and threw his shoulder against a stout door, but it would not budge.
“Stop him!” roared Augur from below.
Panicked, Max saw the door was barred with a heavy crossbeam. He pushed it back just as Cyrus began to scramble up the stairs on all fours. Max shrieked and forced the door open, stumbling out into a cold, dense fog.
He exited what appeared to be a tomb, darting and weaving among gravestones that rose out of the damp mist. The vye came crashing after him.
Max grunted in pain as his knee clanged into a thick length of metal jutting from a fence. Ignoring the ache, he ran on in a desperate search for the cemetery’s exit. He tried to Amplify again, but nothing happened.
Suddenly, Max saw a tall gate standing open nearby. He limped through it, stopping to swing the gate shut just as he saw the huge silhouette of the vye closing in through the fog. The gate was too heavy and slow. Max abandoned it, the sound of the vye panting behind him triggering a fear so terrible that he gave a cry and churned his legs faster. A tall tree stood at the crest of a steep bank. Max made for it, racing uphill and planting his foot for a great leap.
The vye swatted his ankle out from under him, toppling him to the grass and scrambling on top of him. It tried to pin his shoulders with its great claws, while its hind legs scrabbled wildly for better purchase. Max rolled onto his side, whipping up his arm to shield his throat from the snapping, snarling jaws. The vye’s teeth sheared through his sleeve and across his forearm. Max grunted and thrust his arm forward, driving back the jaws, as Cyrus tried to tunnel under Max’s arm toward his face.
Unable to Amplify, Max started to give way, and the jaws snapped closer. In desperation, he jammed his other fist down the creature’s throat, forcing Marley Augur’s apple deep into its gullet. The vye gave a horrible yelp of pain and surprise, bucking wildly to free itself. Max held on with all his might, forcing the apple ever deeper. They rolled on the ground, locked together, until the vye convulsed violently and gave a quivering exhale. A moment later, it was still.
Max rose shakily, using his sweatshirt to staunch the bleeding and wipe away the saliva. There were several dime-sized punctures in his forearm, and his wrist and hand were bleeding freely. Max scanned the fog to see if Peg or Marley were coming. There was no movement—only a brisk wind that chilled the sweat on Max’s neck. Several black birds croaked in the branches above, looking down with small, cold eyes.
“I’ve got to go,” Max murmured. “I’ve got to get help.”
He squinted at the sky: no sun, no stars, nothing to gauge the direction he was facing or even the time of day. Grimacing, he peeled off his sweatshirt and tore it into strips, tying them tightly around his arm to slow the bleeding.
The vye was sprawled out in the tall grass, its tongue swollen and purple-blue. The reality of what he had just done sent a shiver down his spine.
He peered once more in the direction of the cemetery and the haunting words he had read in Rattlerafters echoed in his mind.
The child who took up arms that day would have the greatest name in Ireland, but his life would be a short one….
Massaging his knee, he struck out in the direction opposite from the graveyard. There must be a road nearby, he reasoned. He trotted along in the gloom while arguing with himself.
You’re doing the right thing, Max.
The damage is done—Astaroth is already awake.
You’ll only get yourself killed. Think of what that would do to Dad!
This isn’t the Course. This is real life.
You can send for help. Cooper or Ms. Richter can save those children!
They’ll still be here—
Max slowed to a halt, doubling over as the pain in his arm flared. Wincing, he applied more pressure to the wounds. As the wounds began to clot, Max suddenly admitted to himself that soon there would be no one to rescue. The other children would surely be gone by the time Max could summon help. In his mind’s eye, he saw the faces and eyes of the hopeless children. He recalled with awful clarity the emaciated girl who had begged him to run.
He turned and ran back toward the cemetery. The crows called out a shrill greeting as Max passed the tree where the vye lay. He retraced his path until he arrived at the fence he had stumbled into earlier. Rusted and bent well away from the rest was a black iron rail that tapered to a sharp point. Max shook it back and forth, twisting and kicking at its base until it snapped off in his hands.
The makeshift spear felt awkward as Max stole from gravestone to gravestone. The fog was lighter now; he could see the dark entrance to the crypt. Creeping to its open doorway, he heard the sounds of hurried movements—the yawn of a heavy door, the clink of metal and glass. He slipped quietly down the stone stairs. A few steps from the bottom, he stopped and hugged the wall.
There was Peg, some twenty feet away, grumbling as she gathered an armful of chains from a pile on the floor. She shambled back to where the children were kept. Max peered around the stairwell; Augur was packing beakers and jars and instruments into an assortment of chests. A great trapdoor had been opened in the floor near where Alex was slumped.
Suddenly, Peg dropped the chains. She sniffed the air.
“Hoo-hoo-hoo! Perhaps we needn’t leave after all!”
Max ducked back into the stairwell, but it was too late. With a triumphant cackle, Peg bounded toward the steps on all fours, her body rippling into that of a monstrous vye. Max braced himself on the stairs as she took one last leap and hurled herself at her quarry.
Max brought up the spear.
The impact nearly jarred the weapon out of his hand, but Max held firm. Their eyes met for one horrible instant; Peg’s expression was one of absolute shock. The old vye screamed and wrenched herself backward off the spear point, her limbs flailing like a spider’s. Dragging her bulk, she gurgled and collapsed some fifteen feet away—a bloated vye with reddish-brown fur, clawing at its belly.
Clutching the spear in his trembling hand, Max stepped into the chamber.
Marley Augur stood by the trapdoor, staring at Peg. He shook his head sadly and turned to Max, who edged toward the children, giving the dying vye a wide berth.
“Put that down,” Augur rasped, glancing at Max’s bloody spear.
“I won’t,” Max panted, backing against a thick pillar.
Marley Augur straightened to his full height and walked toward him. Like a disapproving parent, the creature reached to take away the crude spear. Max swung the poker with all his strength, bashing the creature’s hand aside.
A faint green mist gathered around the undead thing.
“Put that down or I shall become angry,” said Augur, his voice rising.
“I won’t,” Max hissed. “Let them go!”
The temperature dropped, and Marley Augur seemed to grow larger. He extended his hand once more, but not at Max. A massive blacksmith’s hammer flew to his hand from the opposite wall, its head a murderous wedge of dull black metal. Hefting the hammer, Augur glared down at Max. The green mist swirled around his legs.
“You will serve our Lord. Whether whole or broken…”
Just as Augur stepped forward, a sheet of brilliant flame roared up before him. Max pressed against the pillar while Augur retreated a step in confusion, glancing at the painting where Astaroth lurked, watching. An unexpected voice called out.
“Leave that child alone.”
Ronin stood on the bottom stair. He was dressed all in gray and breathing heavily. Peeking out from the sleeves of his coat were two long knives. In a flat, calm voice, he spoke to Max.
“Get the children and lead them out. I will deal with this traitor.”
“Ronin!” Max screamed. “Astaroth is in that painting!”
Ronin glanced at the Rembrandt. He raised his hand, and sheets of flame roared up from the ground to engulf it. But the dark painting was unharmed.
A low, rumbling laugh came deep from Augur’s belly. The room grew even colder; the flames between Max and the blacksmith drained away into the floor.
“This is Rowan’s army?” the creature rumbled. Within Augur’s eyes, light pulsed with quickening life as he hefted the massive hammer. “I am far greater than you, little whelp. As this child are you to me. Older magic and deeper purpose course through Marley Augur—”
Max Amplified just as the hammer came crashing down. It pulverized the stone tiles where Max had been standing while he sprang away to the alcove where the children stood cocooned in their black shrouds. Augur’s hammer swung over him, sending up a shower of sparks as it collided with the pillar, which cracked and groaned from the impact.
In a flash, not one Ronin but three circled around Augur in a whirl of knives, feinting and attacking. The blacksmith swung his hammer in mad pursuit, shattering wood and stone and glass in a terrifying frenzy. The walls of the crypt shook with great flashes as though in the midst of a thunderstorm.
Max tore the black shrouds away from the children who were conscious and shoved them in the direction of the stairs, screaming at them to come to their senses and hurry. They staggered away in confused groups of two and three, hugging the walls and shuffling toward the cool daylight above.
By the time all the shrouds had been thrown aside, there were still a dozen children left in the alcove, their heads hanging in slumber. Max began trembling as his body absorbed more energy from the fight around him. Hoisting a child onto each shoulder, he dashed across the floor, over Peg, and up the steps, where he tipped them onto the wet grass. Diving back into the crypt, Max froze in horror as he saw Augur’s hammer crash down onto Ronin’s head. But the hammer only slammed into the floor as Ronin’s decoy dissipated and promptly reformed as though made of magnetized smoke.
The real Ronin had maneuvered behind Augur. He raised a double-barreled shotgun from the folds of his overcoat. The blast echoed in the chamber with a great metallic twang.
Augur buckled and stumbled forward, but nothing more. Ronin was forced to leap back as the hammer swung around to crumple the shotgun’s barrel.
By the time Max had spilled the last two children onto the grass, the chamber had begun to collapse. A flash of light erupted from the doorway, and he heard Ronin curse. Max yelled at the conscious children to pull the others back and dashed again into the crypt.
Ronin swayed near the pillar. The false images had disappeared, and he was without a weapon.
“Ronin!” Max screamed, running down to him.
“One more, Max. Get him and go!” Ronin gasped, hugging the pillar and staggering around it as Augur advanced toward him, stepping over a shattered table.
Max looked at Alex slumped in the chair; just beyond, Astaroth’s eyes watched Max intently.
“What about the painting?” Max yelled.
“Get the boy and go!” Ronin bellowed. “Keep them away from the stairs! Augur can’t go aboveground!”
Ronin ducked under a hammer blow that tore a jagged chunk out of the pillar. Reaching into his coat, Ronin flipped what looked to be a dull metal hockey puck into the center of the chamber before dodging another murderous hammer swing.
Max ran down to Alex, tossed him over his shoulder, and glanced at the painting.
Astaroth smiled at him.
As Max wheeled to run for the stairs, something tripped him. He dropped Alex and fell to the floor. Peg was at his feet. Gasping for breath, she pulled herself up to Max’s face. Her features alternated between the slavering monster and the wild-eyed woman who had pursued him in Chicago.
“You’re coming with me,” she gurgled. “Down, down with Peg into the darkness.”
Max stretched his neck away from the searching talons and focused on his uninjured right hand; he felt searing blue flame ignite and writhe around it. Clapping his hand on her face, he shut his eyes through a sudden gasp and horrible smell. Slowly, the vye’s body stiffened and rolled away, its face a smoldering ruin of fur and flesh.
Max got to his feet, then grabbed Alex’s hand and dragged him toward the stairs. Ronin limped after them, but Augur let loose a terrifying howl and swung his hammer. It caught Ronin squarely in his back with a sickening sound.
Ronin tumbled across the chamber and landed in a mangled heap by the stairs. He did not move.
“Stay where you are!” bellowed Augur, stabbing a bony finger at Max.
“They’re all outside!” Max cried out, locking eyes with Augur while feeling for Ronin’s hand. “You can’t get them!”
“It matters not,” said Augur, lowering his hammer and walking slowly across the room. “Astaroth is awakened, and we still have you. Your worth is far greater than those little souls.”
Max tried to Amplify, but he was spent. Gritting his teeth, he struggled furiously to drag Ronin and Alex up the stairs. His arm was bleeding badly and it throbbed; Ronin was so heavy. Suddenly, three clear beeps sounded in the chamber. Ronin squeezed Max’s hand very hard.
“Go,” Ronin whispered.
Gripping Ronin’s hand tighter, Max heaved himself backward just as the metal puck exploded.
Max had a sensation of floating. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears, but the fog felt very cool and soothing on his face. He lay still, breathing deeply. To his surprise, he realized that there was still a hand clasped in each of his. He glanced down from where he lay against the top stair. Half-submerged in a chalky soup of stone and soil were Ronin and Alex. Alex was unconscious; Ronin’s eyelids fluttered as he stared blankly up.
“I’m broken,” he murmured. “My legs—”
“Shhh,” whispered Max, letting go of Alex and gripping Ronin’s wrist with both hands. Ignoring Ronin’s sharp, sudden intakes of breath, Max pulled him from the rubble to lie on the pearly grass.
Max staggered back to Alex and took hold of his wrist. Suddenly, Max heard something deep within the earth that made him gasp and let go.
A muffled cry of rage and despair shook the ground.
With a gathering trickle of pebbles and masonry, Alex began to sink. Panicked, Max seized his hand and strained with all his might. It was no use. Something far stronger than Max McDaniels had hold of Alex and was pulling him slowly, inexorably, back into the tomb. Despite Max’s gasps and pleas, Alex was wrenched from his grasp and swallowed by the earth.
The shivering children had gathered around Ronin. He was blinking and looking up at the sky, very calm and pale. Making his way through the other children, Max knelt down and took his hand.
“You’re always saving me,” Max whispered.
“You’re worth saving.” Ronin smiled. His green eye was tired but very bright as it blinked at Max. The prescient eye was going dark, its milky whites fading to dead gray.
“We have to get you to a hospital.”
Ronin shook his head and smiled, squeezing Max’s hand.
“Pocket…,” he gasped, closing his eyes.
Deep within his coat, Max found what Ronin had intended. It was a security watch. Max pressed its face as hard as he could again and again until a message suddenly flashed on its small screen.
COMING. ETA 27 MIN.
Max fought off his exhaustion and cradled Ronin’s head to his chest, rocking back and forth as his mother had done with him long ago. The other children sat around them silently, gaunt little ghosts staring mutely into the fog. When the Agents arrived, he thought they must be angels.