The other door was still open, a straight shot to the sparring room and the courtyard beyond. More than once Comet considered taking it, but what would she do then? Go back to the graveyard? Climb the twelve foot, rain slicked fence?
And what if the ghosts did find Novi? What would happen if Comet was gone when they came back? And so, against all better judgment, she stayed.
Clive was the first to make peace with the situation, if ‘make peace’ was truly the right term. He simply returned to his table, settling into a game of solitaire. The only time he acknowledged Comet’s presence at all was to give a squint at the light, or when he caught her looking to earnestly at the key slurred in with the cards, to pass an unenthused look of warning. Atlas had a bit more trouble, it would seem. He hovered around the room, eyes drifting to the silent guest in the corner. Comet watched him carefully, expression hard and hands clammy. Eventually he lugged a few rusty weights in from the other room; he had been tugging at them ever since.
Nevertheless, Comet didn’t let her guard down for a moment. She stood tall and grim at the far end of the room, fighting the infuriating tremor in her hands and squinting at the tall shadows the ghosts threw against the wall. The shadows were all she could reliably see; their actual forms were pale in the wash of the flood lamp, just a shimmer.
That was why she turned it off, ultimately; and slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, her companions’ dim features sharpened into view.
Clive still flickered, fading in and out as if half asleep. He was scrappy, long in the face, long in the nose too, and it looked like it had been broken at least once before. A few lines of silver highlighted the blue black of his hair, especially where is strayed lose around the ears. Atlas was more defined, almost solid as he hoisted away at the oversized dumbbell. He looked like the top half of a statue of Hercules: huge, with enormous, meat hammer hands. He had probably been blond once, but his close cropped hair and imposing eyebrows were now bleachy white, impressively stark against his green tint.
But what struck Comet most was the fact that he, both of them, appeared to be human.
Her hair rose, unpleasant thoughts swarming to the font of her mind; She wanted to scoffed at the loose notions, yet there the ghosts were...
It took her a good long time to realize that Atlas was mumbling to himself, and even longer to realize what he was saying. He was counting off as he lifted, voice growing louder and a distinctly smug look creeping over his face. Eventually he gave a huge, over exaggerated sigh and let the weight fall to the floor. Clive looked up from his game in disgust.
“There,” Atlas said in his booming, hollow voice. “I’d like to see anyone in this place beat that.”
He looked around eagerly, but his enthusiasm drowned as Clive paid him no mind at all and he saw Comet’s thin, tight expression.
“The least you can do is be a little impressed,” he mumbled to no one in particular.
“You’re dead,” said Comet, after swallowing the sallow knot in her throat.
“Well it’s still heavy....”
Clive snorted.
“Ya got somethin’ to say over there, ya big shrimp?” said Atlas, rounding on him. “Lets see you come over here and lift the thing. Fifty times, let’s see it.”
His challenge was entirely ignored.
“Ahh,” grumbled Atlas, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He went floating around the room again, eventually coming to rest by the window, his glow lighting up the panes and staining the grey stones blue-green. Comet stepped back sharply.
After a moment he drummed his hands on the sill and turned to look at her.
“So…” He started, and waited for a response. He didn’t get one and continued anyways. “What’s it like in the world nowadays?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not from here,” said Comet, ignoring the cold jolt riding down her spine.
“Where you from, then?”
“Irrek Nevour.”
Atlas’s brow furrowed.
“Must be a long ways away then. If it is so far, what are you doing around here?”
“That isn’t your business.”
Atlas drummed his hands again and sighed.
“Just hold your horses, lass; old captain won’t take his time. If anybody knows what’s happened to that friend of yours, Madame Clairvoya will. You still got me wondering, though; how did you get here in the first place?”
“I told you,” said Comet. “This was a place to spend the night. We were trying to get out of the rain.”
“Well yeah, but why? Nobody hangs around boo woods at night; just the look of the place puts most people off.”
Comet didn’t answer.
Atlas shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
But obviously it didn’t suit him, because hardly a minute lapsed before he was at it again:
“Y’ Must’ve gotten lost.”
“No! we were not lost!” snapped Comet. “I knew exactly where we were and what I was doing. None of this is your business.”
“Alright, alright, whatever you say,” said Atlas, drawing back. “Cap‘ll find your friend soon, and you can be on your merry way; good riddance to ya.”
And the conversation was over. Atlas drifted away to another window down the wall.
The plank ceiling groaned in the growing cold. Water dribbled through the cracks in the window, collecting in pools on the sill until it overflowed, falling with a soft drip drip onto the floor.
“What in tarnation…” said Atlas quietly.
Comet looked over at him; the ghost was staring intently at something outside. She turned to look out her own window.
Something was moving, a white wisp weaving between the statues. Her brow furrowed as more of the creatures appeared, at least a dozen of them darting like fish all over the yard. They were round and small and brilliantly white, with beady black eyes and mouths full of teeth.
Jaw set, Comet looked back at Atlas. He was half faded from view and ever so slowly sliding away.
Clive was looking up from his game now, watching with raised eyebrows. He dropped his cards on the table and driften forward, then jerked back again as the slightest glimpse out of the window.
“Get back from there,” he hissed.
“What in tarnation are they doing?” asked Atlas.
“Get out. Right now,”
"But cap said-”
“Get out!”
He darted back to the table and all but threw the key at Comet. Comet picked it up and in an instant and made for the locked door.
“Woah, whoa, hold on there,” said Atlas but she had already opened the door and was gone. He glanced at the window, then darted after her into the hall.
Clive brushed down his uniform and returned rigidly to his game of cards.
• • •
It didn't take long for the mansion ghosts to find Mario once the twins left. They oozed from the rooms, through the walls and ceiling, dogging his steps and warbling among themselves...
Mario watched them darkly as he plowed down the hall, one hand clamped over his bad shoulder, the other holding gently to the star in his pocket. The ghosts could sense the powerstar it would seem, and were keeping their distance. It was just as well for them.
Towering windows passed in a steady stream, every one the same. The only thing that assured Mario he was getting anywhere was the yard beyond, scrolling by just as it should. But all too soon the passage gave way to dark, wallpapered halls again.
He kept his eyes forward, chest tightening as the windows were left further and further behind, the passage in front of him stretching on to nowhere. He didn’t have long to worry about this, though. A short ways further he found a branch in the hall. It wasn’t anything special, just a narrow side passage with a door tucked at the end, decorated with a faded pattern of spades. But a draft blew through the cracks of the ill fitting frame, damp and cold; as Orville had said, there were no vines.
Mario rattled the nob few time then jerked on it hard. It didn’t open. For a moment he regretted parting with the keys, but only for a moment. He stepped back, set his good shoulder, and threw his whole weight against the aged wood. The shock shattered through the door, crash rattling off the walls and up the passage behind him. Mario rounded sharply as his fan club of ghosts squealed, fire already kindling in his hand, but they still hanging back, and there was no signs of any boos. He grit his teeth and turned to the door, ramming it again and again. With a boost from the powerstar it finally gave, crashing out onto a soggy corner of porch.
Wet, cold wind slapped him in a gust, trying to slam the door closed again. He caught it on his arm before it could shut and pushed his way out. The boards bowed dangerously under his first step. Mario froze, sure they were going to break, but they held if only barely. Water ran in dribbles through the warped awning, collecting on the porch in slick, dark pools and dripping into his hair. He shut the door on the specters behind him and stepped across the rubbery planks, placing his feet with the the cross-boards. The specters didn’t follow.
He stopped at the edge of the porch and stared out over the yard. Stone statues and a single, skeletal tree were scattered over it, throwing their eerie silhouettes across the grass. A fountain trickled dully in the center of it all, two long dead lampposts standing over it, the wind humming through the broken chinks in their glass. But nothing moved.
His eyes lingered over the spot behind the fountain the longest; the spot where he had seen the monster take off earlier in the night. The ground there was pulverized, rain rippling across the miniature pond the dent formed. Eyebrows furrowed, Mario poked beyond the eves, scanning the sky. Clouds swam across it in dark torrents, rushing out over the ocean. Nothing broke the sheet, not so much as a bat, let alone the massive thing he was looking for. At least for the moment.
Mario stepped down into the mud, wincing as frigid water seeped through his sock. He made for the center of the yard with fast, uneven strides, then slowed as he reached the little stone path that circled the fountain.
Where to go now?
It wouldn’t take the boos long to put two and two together: to figure out he had made it into the courtyard. He had no doubt that they would be here, and soon.
Wind nipped through his cloths as he turned in the center of the yard, soft, spitting rain misting his face. The same dark pickets from the front of the mansion enclosed the courtyard, hemming him in on all sides. The only break in their stand was a gate in the far back of the yard. He made for it, only to discover the sheer drop that lay beyond: a jagged cliff slipping away to the roaring ocean below.
After a good long stare, he stepped away from the edge.
He made for the fountain again, scanning the rest of the yard. There had to be a way out of here, but nothing was readily apparent. The fence curled around on all sides, long and imposing. It was no good climbing, and it was too tall for even him to jump…
But if he took it in segments, pushed off the parallel bars, or better yet, pushed off a wall--with his leg the way it was it would be difficult, but the powerstar would help with that. Mario began to move again, heading for the place where the fence met the building.
There was a movement in the corner of his eye.
Mario turned sharply, his whole frame tightening. The sculptures peered back at him solemnly, but they weren’t the only ones staring. Boos lurked among them, watching him with a collection of wide, toothy grins.
He stepped away backwards, eyes fixed on the glowing crowed. There were at least a dozen of them hanging in the shadows, and who knew how many more that he couldn’t see. How long had they been there? Why didn’t they attack? Ever so slowly Mario reached for the star in his pocket...
“Running away? How unlike you.”
Mario whipped around so fast he nearly slipped. There was the king, only a few feet away, hovering between him and the fence.
King Boo cocked his head, amused, then looked Mario up and down expression growing serious.
“Though, I must say, you aren’t looking terribly well. I suppose I could respect a tactical retreat. But as I’m sure you know, that’s something I can’t allow.”
Mario took another slow step back.
“Then call down your pets. Get it over with,” he growled.
King boo raised an eyebrow.
“My pets?”
Mario just glared.
“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the king, sounding indigent. “I suppose you could mean any number of the mansion ghosts, but no. It is only us tonight.”
Mario fell into a ready stance, teeth grit and fire flicking in his hands.
“So hasty to get on with things, but as you wish,” said the king, smile widening, a soft purple creeping across his glow. The gem in his crown picked up the tinge, purple light leaping to life in its depths. Mario threw himself to the side as the blast came, shockwave sending him sliding across the mud. He coiled himself and leapt back again as another crack spit the air beside him. The whole world was drowned in a tearing flash.
Mario staggered up, squinting through the whiteout. His eyes went wide as the yard before him cleared.
A shimmering purple barrier furled over the center of the courtyard, rippling like water and arching high over his head. Any statues caught in the arena were smooth and whole, a hundred years of ageing undone. The water of the fountain hung in a glimmering arch the every raindrop stood still, reflecting the glow of the barrier in a thousand crystal beads.
King Boo floated in the center of it all, aura crackling and grinning like a carved pumpkin, eyes glowing as bright as his crown. He raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what Mario would do.
Mario lunged for him.
King Boo laughed as he came, voice warbled and distorted. Mario rammed his hand into his pocket, grappling for the star. It found his reaching fingers and world swirled gold as it fused to him, new energy flooding through his system.
The king’s laughter stopped dead. He recoiled, grin twisting in shock and horror.
“How did you-- where?” he snarled.
His crown flashed as Mario leapt into the air, letting lose another thick pulse of dark energy. It hit Mario in a wave; the power star repelled the blast like the wrong kind of magnet, sending him hurling back between the statues.
Lightning fell from the barrier, ripping apart the place he had landed. The mud fizzed and boiled, but Mario was no longer there. He wove through the statues, beelining for the king, smaller boos recoiling away from him in terror.
But the king was no longer by the fountain.
Mario skidded, kicking up liquid turf. He could hear the king’s shriek of displeasure, but it was from nowhere in particular. Something loomed over his shoulder, biting into the aura of the star. Mario whipped around, throwing up a wall of fire between himself and the king. King Boo squealed and retreated, vanishing into air.
Mario spun, taking in all the courtyard, but King Boo was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on!” he shouted, then jumped back as a dark smear of energy exploded at his feet. He lunged for the spot it had come from and pass through something thicker than air. A buzzing, cold sensation lapping at his shield. The King howled again, his invisibility stuttering as he retreated from the contact.
Mario bounded after the retreating shape. He leapt high, aiming to bounce off the king’s head, but was checked by another pulse and sent hurling into the barrier. It repelled him with breathtaking force, a jolt searing through him despite the powerstar’s glow, and sent him skidding back into the center of the ring.
King Boo was gone again.
Mario kindled fire in his hands, whipping it into the air around him in sheets. The suspended rain hissed, going up in blankets of steam. Whines and whimpers went up as well, from all around him. So the peanut gallery had finally decided to get involved, had they? Mario leapt again, high and far, clearing out to a new section of the courtyard. Except for the thrum of the barrier, all was silent.
Mario ran forward, throwing up more sheets of flame, but this time there was no reaction.
“You coward!” he shouted into the now empty field. There was a collective, invisible hiss, but no attack. Mario stood by the fountain, panting, turning slow circles and eyes flashing. He was running out of time…
He didn’t notice the barrier above him writhing. By the time he heard the crash there was no chance to get out of the way.
Lightning streaked across the aura of the power star like a split arrow. The world drowned in white heat and sound. Mario staggered away, blind and deaf, skin prickling and ears ringing. Another blast of ether took him in the back and he fell forward, eating dirt. The laughter of the boos whispered over him, sounding indistinct and far away. What he did feel, though, was the bite as they dove at him, taking it in turns to siphoning away the star’s power. He rolled to the side and whipped upward with a blast of fire. The suspended rain hissed into a mat of vapor, and the boos flew, shrieking, to a safer distance away. Mario staggered to his feet.
“Running out of steam, are we?” said the king from among the statues, his gem already glowing for another blast.
Mario’s first step was unsteady, but it was the only one. He careened forward, dropped low at the first shot, leapt clean over the second, pounded off one of the fleeing boos as the king recoiled, fading again into the invisible realm, and landed hard with his one boot on the gem of the crown.
There was a crack.
Energy erupted from the crack. For an instant it fizzed around him, sizzling across his skin and singeing the tips of his hair; then he was blasted away like a mento out of a soda bottle, sent sliding across the ground in a steaming red bolt.
Somewhere behind him, he heard the king shriek, the sound joined by panicked squeals from the other boos.
He pushed himself up on his hands and knees, still steaming. Bright blobs swam before his closed eyes, and pins and needles ran through his whole body despite the star. The ground below him bucked, throwing him a few inches into the air. He flailed, eyes snapping open, just in time to land with a plop in the mud again.
Mario scrambled, clambering into the lee of one of the statues as the ground rolled again, turf billowing like a shaken sheet, like no ground had the right to do. The world twisted, colors rolling together in a slur. The walls of the arena royalled, wavered, then folded in on themselves, giving way to the smell of salt and darkness.
The rain started to fall again.
The aura of the power star glowed dully, flashing in and out like a dying battery. Mario gripped the pedestal of the once again weathered statue, forcing down nausea with deep breaths of cold air. The shrieks of the boos rang from behind him, mixed with the metallic, deep crackle of magic. He looked back.
King Boo was on the ground, bright as a beacon, energy streaming from his crown, his eyes, leaping across the puddles around him until they they boiled. The other boos flocked around him, juttering as the energy spiked between them, splitting the burden as best they could.
And then the King saw Mario and let out an unnatural howl of rage.
Mario backpedaled, heart falling into his shoes as the king rose into the air again, eyes red and murderous. He heaved himself to his feet and ran, staggering for all he was worth towards the fence at the edge of the yard. He could feel the star spotting, propelling him forward in uneven, ragged bursts. Just a little longer; just one last burst to get him over the fence...
His feet slipped on the mud, robbing him of his traction, each step sucking as the wet ground tried to claim his remaining shoe. He stumbled over something hard in the dark, and his next step was blessedly solid: more stones embedded in the ground. But the next rang hollow. There was the soft crack of rotting wood.
Mario threw his weight backwards, pinwheeling his arms in an attempt to kill his momentum. It was no good. The boards beneath him gave way and he fell, plunging strait down into the depths of the old well.
Notes:
I don’t know if I’ve hit the mid book doldrums, if taking a break over the holidays was a horrible idea, or if I just hate writing fight scenes that much, but ugh, this was… an experience to write. I’m so tone deaf to this chapter right now. I’ve read it so many times I can’t tell if it’s good or not for peanuts. I just hope it didn’t short-charge Mario his climax.
At least I won’t have to look at it again for a while: until I come back around for the edit. Or until you guys start calling out problems. Whichever comes first.
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