The Narrows, page 19
Davontae brought up the rear, looking back and forth down each end of the hall as he rose. On cue, Ash withdrew the gun from her pocket and readied it for use.
Oliver felt responsible for leading the way, so he pushed past his friends and started slowly down the hallway, taking care not to make too much racket kicking gems into each other. Their presence filled him, and he was sure the others were also experiencing the crushing sense of all those lost around them. The knave’s countless victims.
His mental map of the house’s layout was limited, but if his inclination was correct, the hallway would lead to the living room where the knave’s desk drawer was located.
There came a rustling from around the corner. He could hear gems being displaced, smacking into each other, rolling across the floor. The knave was coming, and no one else could hear it.
Oliver shot a hand up, indicating for everyone to stop. He then pointed forward, hoping it clearly informed them there’s something ahead. Whether his message was digested or not, they got the picture when the knave lumbered into view in front of them.
But it was not the knave that Oliver knew.
It couldn’t have been more than two hours since he’d last seen the creature, but its appearance was definitively changed. Yet he knew it was the same knave, not some new beast from the depths of the Narrows.
For one, it was easily two or three times larger, both in height and width. Its limbs were thicker, longer. It now walked on all fours like an ape, dragging its knuckles across the floor, whacking aside any discarded gemstones in its wake. Six enormous, sharp fangs protruded from the thing’s mouth in a ludicrous overbite. Similarly large, jet-black claws extended from its hands. The knave’s smooth orb of a head was now more shaped like an oval and, looking at its face, it was easy to deduce what had caused the transformation.
Set in two of its three forehead indentations were gems, one blue and one pink. The bottom slot of its inverted triangle was empty.
Oliver instantly recognized the blue gem as the one he had extracted from Christopher Pedraza. There was no mistaking it.
“I must say, Oliver, I was not expecting you to return,” said the knave, its vocal cords fried from its transformation. There was a throaty rasp to it that made Oliver’s throat ache just hearing it. “And you brought friends, as well. Excellent.”
The knave licked its lips, the malformed black tongue running across its fangs, leaving behind a wet sheen.
Ash aimed her gun at the knave.
Oliver didn’t know what would happen if she shot it. He also didn’t know what was delaying her.
“I can taste her,” the knave said, and somehow he knew it was referring to Ash. “I thought you contained what I sought, but she may work just as well. I am glad to have options. You have my thanks.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Oliver said, but it wasn’t true. Looking at the two gems set in the knave’s forehead, he knew exactly what the creature was searching for. The reason it had collected so many gems.
There was something special about Christopher’s gem, some unknown quality it contained that gave the knave power. And now it wanted his or Ash’s to complete its transformation into whatever the hell it was turning into.
Is it trying to become an Eidolon? To challenge Orrum?
The reason didn’t matter, and clearly Ash had finally grown tired of waiting for an order. She popped off three rounds in quick succession. The gunfire from directly behind Oliver’s right shoulder rang deep in his ear and he crouched down in both shock and pain, clutching the side of his head.
But he did not break eye contact with the knave, so he was able to witness the bullets rippling through its skin, causing no damage or apparently any mild discomfort whatsoever.
Well—
The knave charged, its mouth unhinged in anticipation and depraved hunger.
Without thinking, Oliver leapt forward and met it head-on.
The claws wrapped around his biceps, ripping through his jacket like tissue and digging into his flesh. It swung him aside and he crashed through the back door, which was as frail as the fence and splintered into numerous pieces as he tumbled across the yard, scraping his face on the cold, firm earth.
Oliver tried to push himself up off the ground, but a piercing pain shot through both of his arms and he failed, his face slamming back down onto the grass. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.
Can’t pass out, he ordered himself.
He rolled over onto his back and, with great determination, sat up facing the mangled fence. He stood and apprehensively moved his arms, testing their resolve. The pain was immense, and he wondered if the knave had injected some kind of poison into him, but he would fight through it for the time being.
When he turned around, he saw Davontae was outside too, seemingly coming to check on him. He had climbed back through the window and was fast approaching, asking if he was okay. Oliver nodded a confirmation then raced past him through the ruined doorway.
Back in the hall, the knave was looming over Ash, who fired off another two rounds. They passed through the monster’s body as if it wasn’t even there, whizzing by Oliver’s head and colliding with the wall.
Behind her, Sophia was in what looked like a fighting stance, her hands raised and balled in fists with the sleeves of her pajamas hanging limply, ready to attack the knave once it reached them.
Oliver jumped up and down, frantically motioning to his right, toward the outdoors. The knave’s hulking form took up most of the hallway, but he was sure Ash and Sophia could at least partially see him around its limbs. He ducked back outside, and sure enough Sophia was making her way through the window again. Davontae had backed up against the fence, unsure for the moment how to best contribute. If bullets couldn’t harm the knave, their chance of survival was nil.
Ash slipped out right behind Sophia, swiftly dodging the knave’s arm which shot out of the window, trying to clutch her leg. She tumbled to the ground, gun still in hand, and she rolled forward then rose to stand in one rapid motion.
Sophia helped her along, and Davontae raced forward, putting himself between Ash and the knave. “Come the fuck on!” he yelled at it. Davontae had gotten into his fair share of scraps over the course of their high school years, but he was an idiot if he thought he stood a chance against the knave.
Its arm disappeared back into the house, and then its body reappeared in the doorway, barely squeezing through to emerge into the backyard.
“Your friends certainly have spirit, Oliver,” it said with a grin.
“Yep,” Oliver replied. Then, in an attempt to negotiate, “We’re just looking for Noah Cooper’s gem. Let us have it and we’ll leave you alone to do whatever it is you’re doing. We don’t give a shit, and we don’t want any part of it.”
He glanced to his right and saw Ash aiming her gun at the knave again, and he had to wonder why she still bothered. She certainly did have spirit.
The knave laughed, though Oliver couldn’t tell if it was directed toward the futility of Ash’s actions or what he had said.
“Noah Cooper,” the knave repeated, standing steadfast. Its fists sunk into the ground with its weight. “I do not know your friend, Oliver. I never knew of him.”
Oliver stared at its featureless face, trying in vain to perceive the truthfulness of the statement.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, nearly screaming. “You said you knew him.”
“Of course I did,” said the knave. “It was the easiest way to gain your assistance. Granted, I only thought I would use you to retrieve my rightful property from Christopher. I did not realize how invaluable you would become. How divine you would taste.”
Oliver repeated the knave’s words in his mind, but he couldn’t think of how to respond. He knew the creature couldn’t be trusted, but was it lying before when it said it knew Noah, or was it lying now?
“You spoke of your friend days ago, when you stood at the edge of the Narrows. When you saw the flicker of Orrum,” it said, watching him.
Did I? Oliver wondered. Did I mention Noah? Is that how it knew his name? He couldn’t recall what he’d said to Ash. So much had occurred since then, the details were a blur.
Words still failed him. He stared straight ahead at the knave, which remained completely and totally motionless, staring maliciously at him in turn. His friends were unmoved, waiting for something to happen.
And then something happened.
In a flash, the knave propelled itself off the ground, careening through the air toward Davontae, Sophia, and Ash. Before they could react, it grabbed Davontae by the shoulder blades and slammed him to the ground, using the extra momentum to fly toward Ash, who did not have the chance to discharge another useless bullet.
The knave crashed into her, sending the gun flying through the air to clatter uselessly ten feet away. She cried out as her back cracked against the ground, the knave straddling her chest, pinning her arms. Sophia was sent tumbling backward, sprawled across the ground.
“Again, I give you my thanks, Oliver,” the knave roared.
And with that, it reached a horrid claw into Ash’s mouth as she screamed, stretching out her jaw, worming its way inside her. Her eyes began to tear up, and Oliver knew the fire that was burning in her throat.
He darted toward the dreadful scene and jumped off the ground, landing squarely on the knave’s back. He wrapped his arms around the creature’s neck, yanking hard, trying to dislodge it from Ash’s throat and pull it away.
Davontae, snapping out of his daze, stood and ran forward, grabbing the knave’s arm, tugging on it. Oliver knew all too well the action was pointless, given how much effort it had taken him to unmoor the knave’s arm in its weakest state, but there was no way to communicate that.
The knave cackled at them. Davontae stumbled backward, emitting a fearful scream as orange bile erupted from Ash’s mouth. Her eyes were closed and tears stained her cheeks.
No, no, no—
Oliver babbled internally as his vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t see this happen to his friend. Not after he had dragged her here. She couldn’t become one of the knave’s victims.
Sophia was back on her feet and ran toward the tangle of bodies, ignoring the gun that lay useless in the grass. Her first move was to pull on the knave’s arm as well, but seeing that it accomplished nothing, she switched her focus to helping Oliver pull the creature off entirely.
The knave guffawed at their attempts to thwart it. “She tastes delicious,” it said, lashing its tongue with demented glee. “I can smell her sweetness, too. I am almost there.”
Oliver ignored its taunts and continued to heave. His mind conjured images of Ash’s gem—how big it was, its color, its shape—and then an idea occurred to him.
He yelled for Sophia, but in all the commotion combined with the earplugs and buzzing, he did not get through. He hoped his friend would take notice of the plan and act accordingly. He stopped pulling on the knave’s body and instead reached upward toward the closest gem on its head, which was Christopher’s.
The second his fingers wrapped around the object, he heard the knave utter a weak grunt, as if in disbelief, but it was otherwise undeterred.
Air rushed out of Oliver’s lungs as he struggled with the gem. It was fastened tightly to the knave’s head, like it was an extension of its body now; it was akin to pulling a tooth with nothing but his bare hands. Yet he stayed the course. He was devoid of any other ideas.
From the ground, Sophia regarded Oliver and noticed what he was trying to achieve. She circled around behind the knave and jumped onto its back beside him, grabbing the same gem.
This got the creature’s full attention, and it began to thrash violently to cast off the parasites latched onto its back. But its main focus was still on Ash, and it could not do much more to them without extricating itself from her.
There.
With Sophia’s help, Oliver had felt the gem shift. It was slight, but noticeable.
Below, Davontae overcame his shock and aversion to the orange vomit and was once again toiling to remove the knave’s arm from Ash’s throat. His efforts were fruitless, but he was doing a decent job of distracting the knave. They needed every bit of help they could muster.
The gem’s weight shifted again, and it felt loose in his grasp. They were almost there.
Just a bit—
Before the timid thought could even finish, Oliver and Sophia were both flung off the knave’s back with a vicious smack. With great effort and pain, Oliver forced himself up onto his elbows as the knave unleashed a savage bellow.
Oliver looked to his left and saw Sophia lying prostrate on the ground. She clutched the blue gem in her hand.
“Holy shit,” he muttered in amazement.
This had clearly angered the knave. Its skin was rippling as its body shrunk down, not quite to what it once was, but at least a third of the size it had been moments before. The claws on its exposed hand regressed into the black flesh, though its fangs remained.
Oliver scrambled over to Sophia and shook his friend awake. Her eyelids fluttered open then widened in recognition of where they were. Without another word, she let go of the gem and was up on her feet, running toward the knave with Oliver at her side.
Together, they handily grabbed hold of the pink gem and yanked on it. It was much looser than Christopher’s, and in the knave’s weakened state, it could do little to ward them off.
“Stop!” it screeched, reminding Oliver of Eric’s desperate pleas in the cul-de-sac of Shumard Springs.
They declined its request and tore the gem from its head. In the brief seconds before Oliver threw the stone across the yard, he had felt Eric within it.
The knave yowled and staggered backward, its arm fully emerging from Ash’s body, no gem in hand.
She coughed and sputtered, sitting up to wipe away the tears and thick ichor from her face.
The knave stumbled away and its body shifted haphazardly into the form Oliver was familiar with: the small, toddler-sized being that had brought him to the Narrows in the first place. Looking at it now, it was hard to see what he had found so intimidating about the pitiful creature.
Not missing a beat, Davontae lurched forward and slammed the knave to the ground, holding its puny body in place with his hand wrapped around its throat.
It wildly whipped its tongue at him, demanding to be let go. Its face looked so plain without the gems adorning it.
Oliver’s chest heaved with ragged breaths as he walked toward the knave. He left Sophia to attend to Ash. There was one more thing he needed to do.
Davontae held the creature still while Oliver spoke to it, not moving his eyes away from its angry face, the smooth skin wrinkled into a scowl.
“Tell me the truth about Noah,” Oliver said haltingly.
The knave made a noise, but he couldn’t tell if it was a pained cough or a mocking laugh. “I told you I did not know your friend,” it said. “But given your passion for him, I would wager his gem is precious indeed.”
Oliver arced his leg back and forcefully kicked the knave in its side. It did not react.
“Tell me where his gem is,” he said, “or I’ll kill you.” His voice was steel.
Another noise poured out of the knave, and this time Oliver was sure it was a laugh.
“That would be a foolish endeavor,” it said. “Orrum would be displeased to learn his most loyal servant was killed. There would be consequences to such actions.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Oliver said, and he meant it. He was beginning to doubt that Orrum was even marginally aware of the knave’s existence.
The knave looked pathetic, writhing around in Davontae’s grasp. Oliver took a second to shoot a glance over his shoulder, and saw that Ash was recovering. She held her gun and leaned on Sophia’s shoulder for support.
It noticed his glance at Ash and said, “You cannot kill me with a mere gun, Oliver. Not even in this state.” It smiled sickeningly. “And be warned, I will retrieve my gems, and I will tear you all apart. I became greedy. I was too hasty. This time, I will kill each of you before taking the time to extract my final gem. And then I will hunt down your friend Noah Cooper’s gem, and I will devour it.”
There was no way Oliver was going to wait and see what the knave’s full form looked like, what it was capable of. The creature was opening its mouth to utter something else when Oliver instinctively shot his arm forward, reaching his hand into its searing, wet orifice.
Sharpened teeth scraped against his arm as he reached deeper into the knave’s throat. It tried to choke out a word, but Oliver’s arm blocked anything it wanted to say. Blood trickled down his forearm as its teeth dug in further. The crimson liquid dripped onto the knave’s chest, onto its neck. The knave’s inner flesh throbbed against Oliver’s skin.
His thoughts were completely clear as he found what he was searching for, what he was betting on finding. His aching fingers wrapped around the knave’s gem, and its body began to flail wildly underneath him, but Davontae reinforced his weight and kept it mostly still.
He tugged the gem free with a forceful pop! and started to pull it from the body. The knave’s limbs fell limp and he could no longer feel its tongue slapping against him, but its chest bobbed up and down slowly, deliberately.
What he extracted from the knave’s body was a dark, withered husk of a gem. Its surface was gray and splintered with cracks.
“You…” the knave whispered, pushing out another weak cough that was assuredly not laughter.
Oliver stepped away from the feeble, black body and dropped to his knees, holding the gem aloft. He then smashed it against the ground, but barely a single line was added to its spiderweb of cracks. He stared at the object, too exhausted to think.
So he pounded it into the cold dirt again, and again, and again, and nothing happened.
The knave made another attempt to speak, but Davontae lifted its head slightly and then instantly smashed it back into the ground. The creature wheezed.
“Here,” came Ash’s gravelly voice behind him.
