This is Episode 2-13 of a serial urban fantasy & paranormal story.

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Part 2-13: Coins

If I was dead, then death tasted like rocks and was loud and irritating. Seemed plausible, so I looked up to see if I’d punched a ticket to hell or some weirder universe. Turned out it was the same weird universe.

The Keeper knelt beside me, flailing about and grabbing at her head. A wide wing swept into me like a giant’s broomstick and battered me a few feet away. When I recovered, I witnessed a horrible sight: an old man with a long beard impaled upon The Keeper’s thorny helm, wriggling like a hooked worm and wailing like I imagined worms would wail if they could. He had shoved me out of the way.

Bright yellow pebbles (or coins, or rock salt?) bled from the Jailer, spilling all over and into The Keeper’s helm. She slapped and brushed at them like they were coals.

Then she found the source of inconvenience. She leaned, yanked the poor Jailer off her head with a sickening rip, and hurled him off toward the middle of the room. Shiny death sparkles marked his trail.

The whole grizzly affair gave me more than enough time to storm over to her.

“I’ll tag back in, thanks,” I said, and hurled my fist into a hefty butt plate.

Her arms and wings snapped up and outward, and this time nine lightning bolts ripped up and out; two from the wingtips, two from the hands, and one from each of the spikes atop her head. I saw a huge skeletal shape, then The Keeper vanished.

I stood there for a moment, holding a now routinely dead and numb arm. I breathed, swallowed, tried not to choke on a dry throat.

Someone started to slow clap.

I whirled, and saw The Minder watching from the entrance to the slide, which was now a stairwell.

“Quite impressive, love. An embarrassing setback for the poor Keeper, surely.”

“Come get some, you prick,” I said, bloodlust still hot in my veins.

“Oh ho ho, feisty! You’ve already bested me once or twice; a rematch may yet be in our future but I shan’t re-enter the fray until the master of the house returns. He will be by shortly. Until then, make yourselves at home.”

He turned and walked up the stairs, and the exit became stone the next time I blinked.

The yellow flares from the flanking sconces reminded me of The Jailer, and my stomach dropped. I rushed over to the center of the room, hearing my footfall echo for the first time—it hadn’t been quiet here since we arrived.

Persi was already there, cradling the Jailer. I expected some R-rated gore and horror, but the old man’s brown sack wasn’t even torn. He lay in a pile of that strange yellow debris, and when he spoke, puffs of it flew from his mouth and bounced down and around like little rubber balls.

“Alena… you did it,” he said.

“That was incredible,” said Persi.

“You all get assists. Never could have… I mean, you saved me, Jailer… I…”

“No choice, Alena.” He coughed a cloud of his strange, springy blood. “No choice. No time now either.”

“I’m sorry we waited so long,” I said.

“Don’t. Was… was my judgment. Listen now, listen well. Both… of you.”

Persi held his hand and leaned close. I knelt down.

“This room. It… is measuring. There are keys. Not real keys… just like… not real weapons. But open and close. You see?” His eyes rolled, and he shuddered.

“Jailer? Jailer can you hear me?” Persi said.

He blinked, and actually sat up a smidgen. “He comes in with them… but once… one came to me. A key! I used it. Here. I know the… pattern. A key came… to me. On my… on top of my…”

“Where?” I breathed.

He smiled and said, “The stars were so beautiful.”

Then he was gone.

He crumbled, dissolving gently into tiny golden hunks. I put an arm around Persi, who closed her eyes. Two tears traced down her cheeks, turning the blood along one cheek back to red from brown.

“Given how long he was here,” I said, after a moment, “I think he’s well at peace now.”

“I know. It’s just… this has been a lot.”

I could relate. I probably had a good sob building up somewhere deep in me, but it wouldn’t come out until I was safe and had a nice long time to reflect on everything.

“Look,” I said. “We’ve got to keep moving. That dick in the top hat made it pretty clear to me that this ain’t over yet.”

“Okay,” she said. “Wait. Look.”

She pointed to the Jailer’s remains, which had almost faded away. Under them, I saw a tiny silver key.

 

Continued in Part 2-14

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