Eighth Fire Read Free

raised his hand to slap the desk again. Mrs. Shadowitz’s
hand shot out and grabbed his hand before he could start his
downward swing. “Wyatt, the preliminary forensics report is in, and
there is something interesting among his belongings. Go have a
look.”
    That bit of information gave Mark enough to
put things together; this was indeed a murder investigation. He
didn’t need the ability of spirit speak for Mrs. Shadowitz to know
what he was thinking, even though his mind was racing and
screaming, Ricky’s dead? How? Why? They think I killed him. Why
aren’t the healers trying to bring him back?
    Mrs. Shadowitz said, “Yes, Mark. Ricky is
dead. His body was found wrapped in a saturated blanket on the bank
of The Island. His spirit has already departed and can only be
returned by the One God.”
    Mark jumped up, “The labyrinth! I’ve got to
take him into the labyrinth! People can’t die in there and all
injuries and sicknesses are healed in there. I’ve got to take him
in.”
    “Mark, that won’t happen. His spirit is
already gone.”
    “Ma’am, I’ve got to try!” His eyes began to
well up. “If there’s just the slightest chance, I’ve got to try.
I’ve got to.”
    “Yes, I know you do. Mr. Diefenderfer is
standing by, waiting for you in the healing ward. Mr. Young is on
his way up there as well. Don’t stop to tell your friends. Just go.
I’ll tell everyone.”
    Mark said, “Yes, ma’am.” She opened the door
and he scrambled through it.
     

     
    Mark held the door to the labyrinth open with
the staff while Mr. Diefenderfer tossed in a couple of bug bombs
followed by a couple of duffel bags full of supplies. Bug bombs
were small incendiary devices developed a few years back for
quickly driving away evil spirits and using them prior to entering
the labyrinth was always a good idea. Time moved about twenty-four
times faster inside the labyrinth than outside of it. Though they
planned to be gone no more than three or so hours according to
outside time, three days would pass inside the labyrinth. Mr.
Diefenderfer hoisted Ricky’s body from the gurney and over his
shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He stepped through the opening,
followed by Mr. Young with a lantern, and Mark carrying the staff,
the only known means of opening the doors in the labyrinth.
    The stench of burnt fish became evident
halfway down the ladder and the ever-present, oppressive feeling of
foreboding began to permeate Mark’s mind. The horrid memories of
past events in the labyrinth played like movies; everything from
being so hungry, using every bit of his will to keep from doing
what the impish voice had said he would do to realizing in the
fifth room, while fighting just to stay alive, that the staff was
the key to the doors in there. The labyrinth was definitely a place
no one wanted to be.
    Mark asked, “Who found Ricky’s body?”
    Mr. Young said, “Slone Voif did. He and his
friends had the same idea you did about exploring The Island.”
    “Were they brought in for questioning?”
    “Yes. They were released before you were
brought in.”
    “Any idea who actually killed him?”
    “The preliminary examination of the body
suggests suicide, but the circumstances suggest otherwise. Rolling
one’s self up in a blanket and then rolling into the moat is a
pretty bizarre way to commit suicide, don’t you think?”
    Mark said, “So, you’re saying we don’t know
if it was murder or suicide.”
    They reached the bottom of the ladder. Mr.
Diefenderfer laid the body down and said, “We will, I am sure, have
a definitive answer to that very question on our return, in three
days.” Three days was the consensus of everyone that had been
rescued from that cursed place last year for how long it took a
body to completely regenerate in there.
     

     
    When Mrs. Shadowitz
joined Monsieur Fontaine in the healing ward, he pulled a
signet ring out of the box containing Ricky’s belongings. The crest
was a crossed scimitar and