The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,129
passed for day here, and the sun throttled down, heating the stones and dwarfing the shadow of the beast that hunkered in the center of the yard.
Claire didn’t realize its true size until the creature rose from the stones and began to pace.
Shaggy hair hung off massive shoulders that appeared mostly human until they ran up to meet a monstrous head. Horns thick as oaks arched out from both sides of its skull. They glowed a deep, blackened red. The beast’s head was turned away, but even from afar, Claire could tell that its features were gnarled with muscle, and hairs as stiff as needles.
The minotaur skulked past one of the pillars, knocking great blocks aside. It had to be twice the size of the giant Hero had faced in Valhalla.
But what drew her attention, what made Claire take a step away from the wall, was the large iron key that swung from a ratty leather strap around its neck. There was no door in sight, but Claire had read enough fairy tales to know what it unlocked.
The beast halted and sniffed the air, giving a great roar as it turned. A familiar roar. “ABANDON ALL HOPE, ye who enter here! Beyond me lies the city of woe. Before me waits—”
“Walter?” Claire stepped forward before considering the wisdom of her actions.
“An’ no mercy will you . . . ah, oh. Oh.”
The minotaur swung its head around. It was a strange, bull-like face, crisscrossed with old scars and tumorous clefts. One eye was milky red in its socket, but the other one lit up with recognition, and there was a familiar set to his bulbous chin. “Hullo there, Miss Claire. You really shouldn’t be here.”
“A situation I’m trying to correct as quickly as possible, I assure you.” Claire felt relief like a kind of giddiness. She approached the Walter minotaur—Waltertaur?—carefully. “It’s really you, isn’t it? What on earth are you doing here?”
“I’m the gatekeeper. My duty is to guard the gates.” Walter puffed up before tapping his knuckles together abashedly. “All gates.”
Claire frowned. “The gates of every realm? But I didn’t see you in Valhalla.”
“Sure you did! Ah, apologies to Hero next time you see ’im, please?”
Claire squinted. She saw no similarity to the giant in the ring when she and Hero had faced the trial to enter Valhalla. He’d been quite thoroughly Viking and wielded . . .
“Widowbane!” Claire remembered the overlarge maul now, glittering with the same shadowy red of the minotaur’s horns and Walter’s teeth. “You were the bludgeon. You never told me.”
The Walter minotaur nodded. “That was me. Well. Part of me. One of me. An aspect. I don’t like talkin’ about it, precisely. It gets all rather higgledy-piggledy.”
“It does indeed.” Claire paused as a thought occurred to her. “You’re the gatekeeper. You’re every gatekeeper. Does that make you—”
“Death,” Walter said quietly. His gaze gentled and he rubbed his neck, a gesture familiar enough to make Claire’s heart ache. “Some call me that, yeah. I always rather liked ‘Walter.’”
“Oh.” Claire chewed on her cheek. She’d entered the labyrinth expecting to find death and here he was. And he’d been her friend all along. No matter how far she ran, she couldn’t escape the feeling of a story. “Regardless . . . I am very glad to see you, Walter. I need transport back to Hell, immediately. There’s an emergency.”
“I see. Ah, then may I just see your ghostlight, ma’am?”
Claire drew out the cold wax candle from her pocket. It was just as dead as Leto’s lighter had been. The tiny stub was crumpled on one side from having been wedged against her hip as she slept.
Walter bent nearly in half to lean his one working eye over it. His face was solemn as he looked back up. “Yer a mortal soul out without a ghostlight, Miss Claire.”
“I am.” Her fingers curled protectively around the cold piece of wax and stuffed it back into her skirts. At the bottom of the pocket, her fingertips grazed some bits of paper that whispered to her, but she left them there for now.
“That’s a mighty shame.” Walter took a step back from Claire, and pity was a strange twist on his ageless face. “See, I’m supposed t’ eat any regular folk that pass through here. It’s kinda why I’m here.”
“Now, wait one moment, Walter. You know I’m the librarian—”
“And you shouldn’t be here without a proper ghostlight. Makes you a lost soul, ma’am.” Walter began rolling his shoulders.