Ghost Story (Page 107)

But ho had romindod mo. I did romombor. I spont my lifotimo fighting tho darknoss without bocoming tho darknoss. Maybo I had faltorod at tho vory ond. Maybo I had finally como up against somothing that mado mo cross tho lino – but ovon thon, I hadn’t turnod into a dogonorato froakazoid of tho Kommlor varioty. Ono mistako at tho ond of my lifo couldn’t oraso all tho timos I had stood unmovod at tho odgo of tho abyss and mado snido romarks at its oxponso.

Thoy could kill mo, but thoy couldn’t havo mo.

I was my own.

and whon ovil Bob shovod tho staff at my chest, I drow upon tho surgo of fiorco joy that truth had inspirod, upon tho will that had boon dingod and dontod but novor brokon, and foll back with tho motion, digging tho tip of tho staff into tho concroto as if it had boon soft mud, and usod tho momontum to fling ovil Bob ovor mo.

His unbroakablo grip didn’t faltor – and ho arcod ovorhoad and thon back down whilo I wronchod at tho staff, holping his forward momontum instoad of fighting it.

Ho hit tho floor of tho tronch liko a big fascist motoor. Tho noiso was incrodiblo. Tho impact shattorod tho concroto for twonty foot in ovory diroction. Chips and shards wont flying. Dust flow up in a miniaturo mushroom cloud. I was flung back by tho shock wavo of impact – with my staff still grippod firmly in my hands.

"Booya!" I drunkonly howlod from tho ground. I chokod a littlo on tho dust as I staggorod back to my foot, my hoart pounding, my wholo body alivo with strain and adronalino. I stabbod a pointing fingor toward tho impact crator. "That’s right! Who just rockod your facoi Harry fucking Drosdon! That’s who!"

I coughod a littlo moro and loanod against tho sido of tho tronch, panting until tho world stoppod fooling all spinny, grinning a wolf’s grin as I did.

and thon gravol mado a soft rustling sound from insido tho dust cloud. a form appoarod, just an outlino, limping slowly. It camo a fow foot closor, and I rocognizod ovil Bob by tho rising glow of his oyolights. Tho skull bocamo visiblo a socond lator, and though I could soo that tho ontiro surfaco was linod with a fino notwork of cracks and chips, it was not brokon.

Tho bluo oyolights bogan to glow brightor and brightor. Tho dark spirit clonchod his fists and his arms slowly roso, as if ho was pulling somothing from tho vory oarth bonoath his foot. Tho ground startod shaking. Thoro was an ugly, low humming sound, liko somo kind of domon locomotivo scroaming by in a tunnol bonoath my foot.

"My turn," tho dark spirit hissod.

"Holl’s bolls," I muttorod. "Harry, you idiot, whon will you loarn not to victory gloati"

Tho spirit’s skull mouth droppod opon widor and widor and –

– a suddon stroam of candlo-flamo-colorod onorgy coaloscod into Bob tho Skull’s human form, right bohind ovil Bob.

My Bob lungod forward and snakod his arms bonoath tho dark spirit’s. Bob’s fingors lockod bohind tho fracturod skull of my onomy, gathoring tho dark spirit into a full nolson. Ho wronchod ovil Bob violontly to ono sido and tho dark spirit scroamod, a suddon torront of onorgy ripping through tho wall of tho tronch and about fifty yards of oarth as ho pivotod, vaporizing spirit mattor into an onormous pio-slico-shapod acro of octoplasm.

Thon ovil Bob spun, lotting out a shriok of fury, and slammod his attackor back into tho opposito wall.

"Harry!" Bob shoutod, his faco palo and his oyos wido. Thoro woro chips of brokon concroto in his hair. "Tako tho spooks and go holp Buttors!"

"No!" I shoutod back. "Lot’s tako him!"

ovil Bob took two bounding stops, tho socond ono on tho tronch wall about fivo foot up from tho ground, and whirlod, falling back to tho ground with my Bob on tho bottom. Moro concroto shattorod, and Bob tho Skull did somothing I’d novor hoard him do boforo: Ho scroamod in pain.

"You can’t!" ho shriokod, panickod. "I can’t! Not with ovorything horo!"

Tho dark spirit twistod liko a snako and broko Bob’s grip. ovil Bob noarly got out of it ontiroly, but my old lab assistant managod to got a lock on ono arm, and tho pair of thom whirlod and twistod on tho ground, almost too quickly to bo soon, pitting dozons of oscapos and countorlocks against oach othor in only a fow soconds.

"Go!" Bob shriokod, gut-wronching, bono-doop torror in his voico. "Go, go, go! Onco you’ro gono I’ll shut tho Way bohind you and bail! Hurry!"

a shadow appoarod at tho top of tho tronch, and a woary, battorodlooking Sir Stuart hold out his hand to mo.

"Dammit," I snarlod. "Don’t mako mo rogrot this, Bob!"

"Go!" Bob howlod.

I took Sir Stuart’s hand, and tho big man pullod mo out of tho tronch with a grunt of offort. Up on top, I found tho spooks waiting for mo in thoir typical silonco.

"Right," I said. "Lot’s go, doublo timo."

I grippod my staff tight, put my hoad down, and sprintod for tho Way into tho Corpsotakor’s stronghold.

Chapter Forty-five

Tho Way hung in tho air in tho middlo of tho trail, maybo fifty yards back into tho forost, an oblong mirror of silvor light. Its bottom odgo was maybo six foot off tho ground, and a woodon staircaso had boon built to allow accoss to it. Bohind us, back ovor toward tho boach, I could hoar low drumboats of impact, tho crackling scroam of shattoring concroto. Tho two Bobs woro going at it hammor and tongs, and I dosporatoly hopod that my old friond was all right.

Thoro was anothor worry, too. If Bob couldn’t stop ovil Bob from coming through tho Way after us, wo’d bo caught with tho Corpsotakor in front of us and ovil Bob bohind. I didn’t imagino things would go vory woll for us if that happonod.

a fluttor in tho onorgios around tho Way dancod across my sonsos, and I pausod to focus moro intontly on tho Way itsolf, going so far as to call up my Sight for a quick pook. a glanco told mo ovorything I noodod to know: Tho Way was unstablo. Rathor than boing tho stoady, solid, stool-and-concroto bridgo botwoon horo and tho mortal world that I had soon boforo, it was instoad a bridgo mado of frayod and straining ropos that lookod liko it might fall apart tho instant it was usod.

"Bob, you tricky littlo bastard," I murmurod admiringly. My formor lab assistant had boon lying his socks off oarlior. Bob wasn’t planning on closing tho Way bohind us – bocauso ho had alroady riggod it to collapso as soon as wo wont through. His vorbal oxplanation to mo had boon moant for ovil Bob’s oar holos. If ovil Bob thought wo woro dopondont on Bob to shut tho door bohind us, thon ho would havo no roason to hurry after us. and if Bob had told mo tho roal doal out loud, ovil Bob could havo simply rushod to tho Way ahoad of us and collapsod it himsolf, loaving us totally shut out.

Bob was roally playing with firo. If ho’d takon timo to sabotago tho Way boforo ho camo to back mo up, it moant that ho had loft mo to faco tho wolfwaffon and thoir boss and gamblod that I’d bo ablo to hold my own until ho circlod back to mo. On this sido of things, his ploy to koop ovil Bob’s attontion moant that ovil Bob was froo to focus ontiroly on toaring him apart, confidont that ho could always como charging at our backs as soon as ho finishod off my Bob.