Rituals (Cainsville 5)

We only caught one side of that conversation, Ioan said. Care to fill me in while poor Brenin labors through?

I was telling him what the ghost had said when Brenin stopped and growled. I strained to pick up whatever he did. Again, I heard nothing, smelled nothing, saw nothing.

Ioan? I said.

I don't know. There's something, but...it's muted. Muffled. Weaker than before, and yet stronger. Which makes no sense, I know.

You detect something with a sixth sens

e.

If you call it that, yes. Though in honesty, we have sixth senses, seventh senses, and possibly eighth. One can help us find prey; another can warn us against danger, not unlike Gabriel's rather embryonic ability. Which I suppose suggests he may also have--

Brenin snorted, cutting Ioan off.

Is he telling you to stop digressing? I said. Or just objecting to the idea that the current Gwynn could have Cwn Annwn blood?

Ioan chuckled. Either is equally likely. As I was saying, we have senses for both prey and threat. This is...neither? Both? I cannot tell. Brenin? You decide whether to continue.

Brenin growled, more of a vibration than actual sound, and he twisted, as if testing the likelihood of turning around, but while it seemed possible, he decided to continue forward.

When a familiar smell hit, he snorted it out.

Seems one of the ghost's success stories wasn't so successful, I said.

Yes, I'm afraid so. That might be what we detected. Brenin?

The hound chuffed, as if in agreement.

I believe we're also picking up residual senses of the melltithiwyd, Ioan said. Which would be, in their way, both prey and threat to us.

Prey if they become a threat?

Precisely.

I spotted a body ahead. Brenin crept up on it, careful, sniffing and testing the air. Soon we were close enough for Ioan to say, It seems they devoured this poor soul, trapped in her escape.

It was an older woman, wearing a nightgown that looked like it came from the last years of the hospital. A cave-in had halted her progress. Dirt covered her hands and forearms, her fingers bloodied, nails ripped ragged as she'd tried to dig her way out. The saddest part was that she'd almost succeeded, clearing a hole nearly big enough to squeeze through before the melltithiwyd struck.

Like the urban explorer, she lay on her side, even more tightly wrapped in that fetal position, her dirty hands around knees drawn up tight, head tucked down as if she could avoid the pecks of the demonic birds. With the explorer, the melltithiwyd seemed to have almost sucked him dry. Here, the piranha birds had done their job more thoroughly, only tatters of flesh remaining on her extremities, the rest devoured down to bone.

Can I free them? I asked Ioan. Is that ghost right? That people like this, taken by the melltithiwyd, can be freed if I defeat the sluagh?

He hesitated.

That's a no, I take it.

It's an "I don't know."

So either the ghost has insight or just a lot of hope, and I won't know the answer until I defeat the sluagh. All right. Brenin, can you make it through that hole she cleared?

The hound grunted. Then he stepped onto the body to get to the hole, and he did so gingerly, as if trying to be as respectful as possible. He had his rear legs planted on either side as he pushed his forelegs and head through the hole. Then he lifted one back leg and felt around for better footing. When his paw landed on the woman, she moved.

I jumped. Brenin just went still, considering, and likely concluding that he'd shifted her corpse. He started to lift his paw...and something struck the bottom of it.

Brenin scrambled off the corpse. Then he stood behind her, huffing. Another huff, as if annoyed by his reaction. He nosed her feet. Nothing. Her legs were bone, and he surveyed those in a glance before his gaze rose to her midriff, covered in a thin nightgown.

He reached out one tentative paw and touched her torso. Nothing happened.