It fell backward, hitting the ground hard. It wasn’t moving, but its chest was still rising and falling as Link sprinted past it, with Boo Radley right behind him.
CHAPTER 6
Apocalypse
Link didn’t stop running until he made it all the way through the pitch-black Tunnel. But even when he slowed down, his mind was still racing.
What had he done? It wasn’t like he’d had a choice—that thing could’ve killed him.
What was it?
Did Macon know it was down there?
The farther Link walked, the more questions he had. His heart didn’t stop pounding until Boo stopped in front of a Doorwell. Even then he still didn’t feel right—not that he ever did lately.
Was this what it meant to have superpowers? Was it an unfair advantage in a fight? Did it count if you were fighting some kind of monster?
When Link stepped out of the Outer Door and saw the house, he forgot everything else. Macon said the house was inland, but he must have been joking. Obidias Trueblood’s home was practically carved into the side of a cliff. The warped gray wood blended into the stone surrounding it and hung dangerously close to the waves hitting the rock wall below. Link was sure that if one of those waves was big enough, the whole place would crumble into the sea.
Who the hell would live here?
Boo barked as if he was offering an answer, but Link already knew it. A crazy friend of Macon Ravenwood’s—that’s who.
Link navigated the rocks until he reached the part of the house facing the land, where he saw two crooked windows and a door that had lost its paint to the salty air long ago. There was a round iron ring in the center of the rotted wood.
Link glanced at Boo, who was watching him expectantly. “Maybe nobody’s home.” The Caster dog didn’t look convinced. “Okay, I’m knockin’.”
The ring struck the door, and it slowly swung open.
“Hello?” Link called.
No one was there. Link glanced down at the lock. It was busted. He stepped into the entryway tentatively. “Hello? Is anybody home?”
Inside, the place was like a library. Books were stacked everywhere, and except for a few chairs by the fireplace and a plank table, there was no furniture. Just books and journals from floor to ceiling, and maps tacked to the empty spaces on the walls in between. The kitchen was off to one side, with a huge window that overlooked the water.
Someone had to be there. The fireplace was still lit.
“Mr. Trueblood?” Link called out over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks outside. “Macon Ravenwood sent me. He has a message for you.”
Boo sniffed around the room, pausing by a long hallway. More maps were taped to the walls there.
“You smell somethin’, Boo?” Linkubus senses were sharp, too. He inhaled deeply—pipe tobacco. Link followed the combination of licorice and oak until he reached the end of the hallway, where a door was cracked just wide enough to let a slice of moonlight escape. There were voices—no, one voice—followed by a low moan.
A new smell flooded Link’s heightened senses—something more familiar. Copper and salt. Blood.
He zeroed in on the thin space between the door and the frame. There was someone in the room, cradling an old man in his arms. Blood seeped onto the floor.
Link would’ve known that leather jacket and slick black hair anywhere. It was Hu
nting Ravenwood. And the Blood Incubus wasn’t supporting the wounded man. He was feeding.
“Hunting!” Link shouted before he could stop himself. He wasn’t sure what he was planning to do, but he was going to do something. Link burst through the door, brandishing his shears just as Hunting flashed him a bloody, satisfied smile.
“You’re a little late, kid.” He dropped the limp body. “I’d kill you, too, but you don’t matter.”
Link heard the sound of the rip. Hunting was gone before Link could make it across the room.
The old man—a good twenty years older than Macon, judging by his white beard—was lying in the center of the room, where Hunting had dropped him. The moon shone through the window, casting a pale and eerie light on his features. His white shirt was streaked with blood.