Nightfall Gardens (14 page)

“Whatever it is doesn’t bode well,” Arfast said. “Few things in the Gardens do though.”

Silas was thinking on this when a shade leaped on the fountain and transformed into his grandmother before his eyes. One moment, the shade was long as a shadow on a hot summer day and the next it was Deiva in her black dress and veil. His grandmother pulled up her skirt and began high kicking on the fountain as the creatures erupted with maniacal laughter.

“Look away,” Arfast said, attempting to shield Silas, but the boy dodged away from him.

When she was finished
dancing, his grandmother fell into the crowd and was carried on the shoulders of a cross between a giant and a mole. The creature was covered in putrid gray fur, with no eyes and shovel-like claws for hands. The mole giant bellowed and cleared a path in front of him with each step he took. Deiva was lofted high above the crowd before eventually turning back into the shade and swan diving into the mob.

“Now only the girl holds us here,” a demon near them said. The demon swirled a mixture of red and black. Horns jutted from his forehead. His eyes were rivers of fire. “And she won’t be alive for long.”

He would have listened to more, but Arfast jerked hard on his arm. “Come along. Now!”

“My grandmother’s dead,” Silas said sorrow
-fully when they were far from the jubilant crowd and the calm night of the garden surrounded them once again.

“I’m sorry to hear that. There’ll be time enough for mourning when we’re out of here,” Arfast said. He stopped at a crossroads and scratched his head, trying to figure out which direction they should go.

“I didn’t even know I had a grandmother until Jonquil kidnapped my sister,” Silas said. “I only met her one time.”

“Sometimes that makes it all the worse,” Arfast said, making a decision and turning them down one of the paths.

They walked up a hill toward a cave with an opening wide enough for a dozen people to walk through.

“We’re here,” Arfast whispered in his ear. “Cerberus’s home. The Fairy Bells grow near here. Look for something that glows white. Be quick about it, in case he comes back.”

Silas waded through the undergrowth near the rocks looking for the white flowers. He felt as if his every step made enough noise to wake the whole garden. Even from here, the faint sounds of celebration could be heard. Something gleamed in the moonlight, but when he bent to examine it, a toadstool burst and oozed yellow pus at his touch. Arfast was on the other side of the clearing and was having as little success as he was. Silas worked his way closer to the cave. Cold air rushed out of the opening and he smelled animal droppings and the ripe smell of an unbathed dog. This was Cerberus’s lair, where the three-headed monstrosity lived. He was the old guardian of Hades, whose job was to ensure the dead didn’t escape back to the land of the living. Now he was trapped here, along with the rest of the emissaries who used the name of death to torment human kind.

“Did you find it yet?”  Arfast said. His hands were empty and he looked worried. “It has to be around here somewhere. Maybe further in the woods. I swore that the other riders told me the Fairy Bells grew in Cerberus’s… ” Arfast trailed off and glanced into the cave. Something flashed white from the inside.

“Wait here,” Arfast said, about to enter.

“Let me look,” Silas said. “I’m smaller, plus you can keep a look out for pug ugly in case he comes back.”

“Be quick, then,” Arfast said, climbing onto one of the rocks so he could see anything that might approach.

A pungent animal aroma filled his nostrils
, becoming stronger with every step Silas took into the cave. Bones were scattered about the den, but whether they were human or otherwise, he couldn’t tell. Water dripped from far back in the recesses. He moved deeper inside toward the luminescence that existed like the only light in the universe. The entryway was no bigger than a stamp behind him. Silas was close enough that he could make out the dazzling array of hundreds of delicate flowers growing from the walls. Tiny red veins ran through the translucent petals. They trembled as he plucked them and stuffed them in his bag.

He was standing to leave when he heard the forlorn singing of a nightingale coming from outside the cave. Cerberus was coming back! Silas hurried toward the entry in time to see the lumbering beast making its way toward him. The monstrosity was only a dog by the loosest definition of the term. It stood as high as a house and was wide enough that it must have been a snug fit for him in the cave. Cerberus’s legs were as thick as oak trees, with nails that were as long as railroad spikes. Most terrifying of all were the three heads on his shoulders, which were in constant argument with each other. The heads were wider and flatter than a regular dog’s and they moved with fluidity, biting, snapping, and growling at each other with
such intensity that Silas was surprised they were able to tell where they were going. The hound of Hades shook the ground as he approached.

Silas edged out of the cave as Cerberus reached the entrance. The monster raised one of its heads and sniffed the air; its nose recoiled as though it scented something foul on the wind. Silas felt as if his heart was about to pound free of its ribcage. The monster sniffed inside the cave and then turned one of its heads and began smelling near where Silas was hidden. From this close he could make out the yellow eyes of the creature and see it was covered in a black fur no thicker than a seal’s coat. There was a reason it was the hellhound’s job to make sure no one escaped from the underworld. Silas didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like to have the beast fall upon him, rending him to shreds. Even centuries in the
White Garden hadn’t dulled its senses. Cerberus sniffed closer and closer to where Silas was. The boy pressed himself against the rocks, willing himself to disappear into them if possible. Its nose was inches from his face, and a white froth dripped from jaws that looked powerful enough to pull his head from his shoulders with one bite. Silas held his breath, afraid the slightest exhalation would reveal his presence. From above, rocks slid down and bounced around him. One of them struck Cerberus on his middle head. In anger, it turned and snapped at the head smelling for Silas. Suddenly, all three heads were biting and tearing at each other, trying to catch each other by the throat. While Cerberus was fighting himself, Silas slid down the wall and ran back up the path, the sound of the dog’s growling and snapping fading behind him. Minutes later, Arfast caught up with him.

“How’d you manage that?” Silas asked.

“They must get on each other’s nerves something terrible after so many millennia together,” Arfast said grinning. “Imagine not even being able to change your underwear in private.”

The two raced down the path. The moon, a malignant red eye, followed them overhead. They skirted the fountain where the celebration was as lively as ever. Shrouded figures glided on the air above the crowd, the same color and consistency as smoke. One of the figures strummed a guitar made of human hair and bones. The crowd was gathered in some hellish sing-along that sounded like every chalkboard in the world was being scraped at exactly the same time. Silas pressed his fingers over his ears and kept running.

The next few minutes were a blur as they switched from one path to another, trees and plants closing in from all sides. Silas felt a burning stitch in his side. Ahead, he caught a glimpse of the entrance to the White Garden. Arfast swerved from the trail and cut through the trees in that direction. “Shortcut!” he laughed. Silas chased him, trying to hold back the whoop in his own heart and that was how he ran into the Jinkinki.

One moment he was plunging through the trees and the next his feet were flying out from under him. Silas tumbled through the air and came down hard on the ground. He rolled on his side, clutching the bag to make sure he hadn’t lost the precious Fairy Bells. Something stirred on the earth near him. Piggish eyes blinked from muck, next came a snout, followed by a head and face. Silas gasped and jumped to his feet. It was the Jinkinki that they had encountered earlier in the night. This must be his den. He was buried in the ground, but as Silas watched, the creature began dragging itself out of the earth.

“Flesh, I smell sweet flesh,” the Jinkinki slathered. “Oh, it’s been so long. So very long.”

The piggish creature flopped and crawled its way out of the pit toward him. Silas was going to run for it when a blinding light flashed on in the tree next to him. Silas threw his hands over his eyes to shield them. It was the sprites. The lantern that they were trapped in was hanging from a nearby branch.

“Boy, set us free,” the stronger sprite said in an insect buzz. The sprite was an outline of pure gold light with wings and nothing more. “He’s killing my friend.”

At that moment, the Jinkinki lunged at Silas
, grabbing for his ankle. The creature was halfway out of the earth now. “Oh sweet, tender, juicy, succulent human flesh, how long I’ve waited for thee.” The Jinkinki redoubled his efforts to free himself.

“Smash the lantern, please,” the sprite said. “We’ll help you escape.”

‘Never trust anything that lives in the gardens,’ Mr. Hawthorne told him, one afternoon as they cleared the trails. ‘They’ll turn on you the moment they get the chance.’ Silas looked into the cage and saw how weak the glow was emanating from the other sprite. It was leaning against the side of the lantern glass as though it didn’t have the strength to stand. Silas made up his mind in that instant and grabbed the lantern from the branch.

“No, wait! What are you doing?” The Jinkinki oinked.

Before the monster could say another word, Silas smashed the lantern against the tree, shattering the glass into a thousand shards. Both of the sprites raced and zipped through the air with their newfound freedom.

“I’ll roast you on a spit for that, boy,” the Jinkinki said, kicking the last of the dirt off as he pulled himself free with one final shake.

Silas could wait no longer. He bounded through the bushes and trees into the clearing, and back to the promenade. Up ahead, Arfast was running toward him. The dusk rider had finally realized the boy was missing. The sprites danced around his ears, shooting one way and then the other.

“Thank you, boy. He trapped us decades ago and has made us do his evil will since then. He would have killed us if we’d been there much longer. We’re indebted to you now. If you ever need us, just say our names, Ulfeid and Tofa, and we’ll come.” With those words, the sprites zipped away, pinpricks of light that disappeared in the night sky.

Behind him, Silas heard a squeal of anger. He turned to see the Jinkinki against the dark outline of the trees.

“A Jinkinki never forgets a wrong,” the creature squealed at him. “I’ll find you one of these days, boy, and I’ll strip your flesh from you before I feast on your innards. Mark my words. This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me. You’ll pay dearly for crossing me.”

It wasn’t until the two had passed safely out of the White Garden that Arfast asked what happened.

“Getting up to some mischief, I see,” the dusk rider said. “I’d be on your guard though. You’ve made a mortal enemy out of that Jinkinki. They fret and obsess over every slight done to them and won’t stop until they’ve gotten their blood vengeance.”

“But he’s trapped in the Garden,” Silas said as they walked to the bunkhouse.

“The walls that bind them are growing weaker. Best be prepared: Jinkinki’s never forget. They will hound their prey a lifetime and chase them to the furthest corners of the world to seek vengeance.”

The bunkhouse was deserted when they arrived except for Ezekiel, the camp cook. The rest of the riders were on patrol, making sure that nothing was escaping from the gardens as they celebrated Deiva’s death. Even from inside the bunkhouse, Silas heard the terrifying howling and bellowing coming from outside. It was a restless sound, the sound of something that had been trapped for a long, long time but was finally close to being free.

  “I tell you I never heard anything like it,” old Ezekiel said. He was frail and enfeebled and hadn’t ridden in years. Now he served as cook, a task that he was ill suited for but that he’d been relegated to in his twilight years. Ezekiel was balding with stringy gray hair that fell from his sides to his shoulders. “In all my years, I never heard the gardens so… so alive, sounding like everything was going to spill out at once.”

“Let’s hope for our sakes it doesn’t, old man,” Arfast said. “Otherwise, no amount of riders will hold back what’s inside.”

Arfast and Silas went to Jonquil who looked closer to death than ever. His face was the same color as the sheets on his bed. When Silas touched his forehead it was ice cold and only the faintest pulse throbbed in his neck.

“He’ll be in the shadowland before too long,” Ezekiel said. “Shame, too. I always liked Jonquil. He was a proper leader, not like that bloated windbag Larkspur who’s apt to take his place.”

“That may not happen if we act quickly,” Arfast said. “Silas, fetch some hot water and rags. Zeke, I need the pestle and mortar you us
e to grind your herbs.”

Silas heated the water over the fire as Arfast ground the Fairy Bells into powder.

“Are those what I think they are?” Ezekiel said. His eyes grew wide as Arfast poured the last of the flowers into the mortar and began grinding them.

“Aye,” Arfast said. “Straight from the
White Garden itself.”