When the Lights Went Out #10

Chapter Ten

Ghoul [goo-uhl]: The malicious deceased soul of a human that haunts Deadman’s Nest. They are harmless to swift travelers but become violent when travelers linger.

As the leprechaun swarm grew thinner, the ground beneath Coyote’s feet became peaty and squelched with every step. Drooping black trees hedged the path, and a dense layer of fog concealed the ground up to their ankles. Coyote hurled one final leprechaun back toward the Hordes. Finally, he was alone with London in this new territory.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Coyote sat. “Can we rest a minute?”

London regarded him through narrowed eyes and with pinched lips. “I wouldn’t recommend tarrying in Deadman’s Nest for long.”

As if in agreement, an eerie wailing sounded, like a banshee, swaddling Coyote’s body in a veil of cold.

“What is it?” Coyote peered toward the Hordes, squinting for any sign of the leprechauns. Relief flooded him when he saw none.

“This is a ghoul swamp,” London said. “Not even the leprechauns will set foot in here. It is harmless enough unless you dally in one spot.”

Not liking the sound of that, Coyote hauled himself to his feet, tucking the Fictionary under one arm.

London fell into step beside him.

“What makes the ghouls so fearsome?” Coyote pressed close to London’s side for comfort.

“Malice.” London shrugged. “Unlike the ghosts of Antipode Town, the ghouls of Deadman’s Nest are resentful of their untimely end at the slaughterhouse. These spirits will latch onto any living thing that stalls in this place.”

“If the leprechauns won’t come through here, does that mean they won’t follow us to the city?” Would they be safe to finish the journey in peace now?

“That is accurate, unless they are accompanied by an escort from the city.” London kept his eyes fixed on the murky swamp ahead. “Most likely the debtor who is owed a fine. The city is right after this.”

“Oh.” Coyote dropped his gaze. The city was where the gate back to the human realm was. Which meant he’d have to leave London behind. He didn’t expect the thought to ache so greatly.

Something like a wolf’s howl shook the trees to Coyote’s left. He clung closely to London, relishing his coppery scent and the cold radiating from his skin. London’s strong arm flexed, but, disappointingly, he left it hanging at his side.

“Why…” London started, then stopped. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

A translucent owl blazed through the trees across their path. This time, when Coyote jumped, London wrapped a protective arm around him.

Coyote let the question hang in the air between them for many heartbeats. The fog draping the swamp began to crawl up the tree trunks so that it rested at waist height. “My mother has a drug problem,” he drawled. “It caused the death of my father. I blame her for it, but I guess his gambling was his choice. He used the vice to fund her habit…then owed money to the wrong gang.”

“You are not a pup,” London said thoughtfully. “Why would you live with her still?”

“Because we’d both be homeless if I didn’t.” He shrugged. “And I can’t afford to live on campus. So, we need each other.” Though, now Coyote had a sinking feeling that it was more than just a need for housing. The people of the monster realm alienated London in the same way Coyote’s mother was alienated. It was by no fault of their own. That was what felt so familiar about the way the monsters treated London. Coyote hated that he saw his reflection in the monsters’ faces.

The trees shook as a man dropped from their canopy. London backpedaled quickly, yanking Coyote along. The newcomer lashed out like a snake, grabbing Coyote by the neck and tearing him from London’s hold.

“Gotcha!”

“Rochester! Let him go!” London cried as the man whisked Coyote away through the trees.