Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels) Read Free Page B

silence.
    “Nice one, Hawk,” said Fisher.
    And then they both looked around sharply as heavy footsteps sounded from the other end of the hall. Starting at the closed front door, they advanced slowly toward the stairs, and there was something of eternity in the pause between each increasingly loud impact. The floor and the walls and the stairs shook with each step, and the sound seemed to shudder in Hawk’s and Fisher’s bones. It was like listening to God walking across the sky with Judgment Day on his mind. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and then started back down the stairs to face the advancing footsteps, axe and sword at the ready. The thunderous footsteps moved slowly, inexorably, toward them.
    Hawk and Fisher reached the foot of the stairs, and kept right on going. The sound of approaching footsteps hesitated, and then stopped. Hawk and Fisher stopped. It was now very quiet, as if the whole house were listening. There was a single heavy footstep in the hall. Hawk stepped forward to meet it. After a pause he took another step forward, and another. And the heavy footsteps retreated before him. Hawk kept going, Fisher now at his side, and the footsteps retreated rapidly toward an open door on the left. They no longer sounded loud or threatening, or in the least Godlike. Hawk and Fisher followed the footsteps through the door and into the main parlor, where they suddenly ceased.
    Hawk and Fisher looked about them. The parlor was large, comfortable, and almost cozy in the dim amber light from the turned-down gas jets in the ornamental lamps. The heavy furniture had been pushed out of position into the middle of the room, and the edges of the carpet were no longer nailed down. Someone had been searching for something; apparently with no success. The room was silent. The disembodied footsteps were gone, at an end, with no trace anywhere as to what might have made them.
    “Well,” said Hawk. “That was interesting.”
    “Right,” said Fisher. “Whatever it was, I think we frightened it. I know we’ve always had a dangerous reputation, but spooking a spirit has to be a new high, even for us.”
    “This may be just the overture,” said Hawk. “Feeling us out. Seeing what our weaknesses are. Everyone’s afraid of something. You wait till the headless body appears, with a great headsman’s axe in its hands.”
    Fisher sniffed. “I’ve faced liches before. Zombies are easy to take out, as long as you keep a clear head. And make sure you’ve got some salt and fire handy.”
    “Still,” said Hawk. “Dead men walking can be pretty upsetting. Salt and fire don’t always work. And then … how do you kill something that’s already dead?”
    “We’d find a way,” said Fisher.
    Hawk had to smile. “We probably would at that.”
    “You know,” said Fisher, “you don’t have to hold my hand quite so hard, Hawk. I hadn’t realized you were so nervous.”
    Hawk looked at her. “Isobel, I’m not holding your hand.”
    Fisher’s face went blank for a moment as she took in just how far away from her Hawk was. And then they both looked down, to see the large disembodied hand firmly holding on to Fisher’s left hand. It looked very real and very solid, but the end of the wrist faded away to nothing at all. Fisher’s lips drew back in a disgusted snarl, and she clamped her fingers around the disembodied hand, crushing it with all her considerable strength. There was a sudden sound of bones crunching and breaking. The hand fought desperately to get loose, but Fisher just piled on the pressure, and more bones splintered and snapped inside her implacable grip. The hand suddenly melted away into unraveling mists, accompanied by a pained howling from somewhere far away. Fisher flapped her hand a few times, to disperse the last traces of mist, and then brought her fingers up to her face to sniff them.
    “Sulphur. Brimstone. How very unoriginal.”
    The howling died away. Hawk looked reproachfully at Fisher.