He turned and pointed. “There.”
The sleeve of his robe slid down, and I caught a glimpse of an extra fold of skin flapping away from his body and disappearing under the robe.
It looked like the wing of a giant bat.
I remembered the crazy story Link told me over the summer. Macon had sent him into the Caster Tunnels to deliver a message to Obidias Trueblood. That much I’d already put together. But there was another part, about how Link was attacked by some kind of creature he ended up stabbing with his garden shears—it was grayish black and bald, with the features of a man, and deformed black bands of skin that Link was convinced were wings. “Seriously,” I remembered him saying. “You don’t want to face that thing in an alley at night.”
I knew it couldn’t be the same creature, because Link said the monster he saw had yellow eyes. And the one standing here was staring back at me with green eyes—almost Caster green. Then there was the other thing. The whole gardening-shears-to-the-chest thing.
This couldn’t be him.
Green eyes. Not gold. I didn’t need to be afraid, right? He couldn’t be Dark, could he?
Still, it wasn’t anything I’d ever seen before—and I had seen more than my share.
The creature turned around, lowering his arm that wasn’t an arm. “Do you see them?”
“What?” The wings? I was still trying to figure out what he was—or wasn’t.
“The Gates.” He seemed disappointed by my stupidity. I guess I’d be disappointed, too, if I were him. I was feeling pretty stupid myself.
I searched in the direction he had pointed a moment ago. There was nothing there. “I don’t see anything.”
A satisfied smile spread across his face, as if he had a secret. “Of course you don’t. Only the Gatekeeper can see them.”
“Where’s the—” I stopped, realizing I didn’t need to ask the question. I already knew the answer. “You’re the Gatekeeper.” There was a River Master and a Gatekeeper. Of course there was. There was also a snake man, a whiskey-drinking crow that could fly from the land of the living to the land of the dead, a river full of bodies, and a dragon dog. It was like waking up in the middle of a game of Dungeons & Dragons.
“The Gatekeeper.” The creature nodded, obviously pleased with himself. “I am that, among other things.”
I tried not to fixate on the word thing. But as I looked at his charcoal-colored skin and thought about those awful wings, I couldn’t stop imagining him as some terrifying cross between a person and a bat.
A real-life Batman, sort of.
Only not the kind who saves anyone. Maybe the reverse.
What if this thing doesn’t want to let me in?
I took a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s crazy. I left crazy behind about a year ago. But there’s something I need in there. And if I don’t get it, I won’t be able to go home. Is there any way you can show me where the Gates are?”
“Of course.”
I heard the words before I saw his face. And I smiled, until I realized I was the only one smiling.
The creature frowned, his huge eyes narrowing. He put his hands together in front of his chest, tapping his crooked fingertips. “But why would I do that?”
Exu shrieked in the distance.
I looked up to see the massive black shape circling above our heads, as if he was prepared to swoop down and attack.
Wordlessly, without looking up, the creature held up his hand.
Exu descended and landed on the Gatekeeper’s fist, nuzzling his arm as if reunited with an old friend.
Maybe not.
The Gatekeeper looked even more frightening with Exu at his side. It was time to face facts. The creature was right. He had no reason to help me.
Then the bird squawked, almost sympathetically. The creature made a low, throaty sound—almost a chuckle—and raised a hand to smooth the bird’s feathers. “You are lucky. The bird is a good judge of character.”