torch she’d pulled from her inventory. The light illuminated the arched ceiling of the crypt.
Dad’s image was etched into every sparkling wall. Carved moments of his life; one of him receiving his diploma, one of him marrying my mother, and right beside these large double doors, a carved moment of the first time he held me, his grin completely taking over his face. My father’s entire life was recorded in the walls of this monument of fallen kings.
I softened my jaw. My mom made an Easter egg for my dad.
She hid an Easter egg in every world she’d created. In Ashcraft there was a secret room with my father’s initials. In Swordmaker’s Chronicles there was an underground tunnel with a painting of me taking my first steps.
The carved walls arched over skeletons in fine clothes on slabs, arranged in a circle in the center of the room.
Nothing else.
Nothing that could have made those sounds.
Something scratched. We both flinched at the sound.
Dagney handed me the torch and grabbed the battle-axe from her back. “Keep to the walls,” she whispered.
“Is your arrow pointing to any particular body?”
“No.” The torchlight made dancing shapes in her irises. “It disappeared as soon as the doors closed. The boots are in this room, but that’s all I know. We’re going to have to search for them.”
We moved across the crypt, each of our steps echoing against the crypt walls.
A thump. A scratch.
“They’re footsteps,” Dagney whispered.
Great.
The torch blew out.
Dagney swore.
“Give me a match! I’ll light it.” She turned.
Her axe was too close to my cheek. “Careful.” I stepped away and relit the torch. At the edge of the light, a foggy shadow loomed. I lifted the torch.
Nothing behind us.
Then, in an instant, the shadow returned, too tall to be human. A line of light cut through my game vision. As fast as it appeared, the shadow winked out, leaving only a suggestion of what might have been horns or fangs. The crypt was ripe with the aroma of fresh blood.
An indicator pointed to where the shadow had just been. “Lurcher,” I warned.
We waited, watching for movement or shadows deepening. The torch warmed the side of my face and flicked against the walls.
Darkness gathered against the wall, the center tinted green as ghostlight.
We stepped backward. Something brushed against my legs. I flinched around.
But it was just a dead body.
How screwed up was this, that that was comforting?
A footstep scratched behind us. I turned, but Dagney still faced the doors. “Do you think there are two of them?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Only the Devout can see most ghosts. Not unless they want to be seen.”
“And Lurchers?”
I read the info scrolling across my game vision. My stomach twisted. “Lurchers like their prey to see them before they eat them.”
“Great. Super great. How can we kill something we can’t see?”
“I don’t think we can kill it; it’s already dead.” I lifted my chin. “But it has to be possible. My mom would make the game playable.”
The ghostlight solidified at the center of the looming shadow. It did have horns. Something crackled like a skeleton coming to life.
The torch dimmed but the flame held steady. Come on, torch. Don’t fail me now.
At least not until I find those boots.
I didn’t know which of the finely dressed skeletons had once been my game grandfather’s body, but their feet faced the walls, their heads close together, like a demented star shape. A half-melted candle rose from a candlestick near the wrapped head of a woman dressed in a soft, purple, moth-eaten gown. I lit the candle and moved on to the next.
Each lit candle made the disappearing shadow more substantial. I lit another. The crypt brightened and the shadows lost the dark they hid inside. There were three shadows. The horned one in the center seemed twice the height of a man, the other two, maybe ten feet tall.
Candles lit, I thrust the torch into a crevasse and started searching for the boots. I lifted the shroud covering one of my musky ancestors. Nothing. I moved to the next slab and pulled off the shroud. A skeleton with wiry silver hair and a vivid green silk dress. No league boots. I puffed out my cheeks. The next had a bronze crown and deep red, moth-eaten robes.
The sharp dragging footsteps quickened, the sound rising as it moved toward Dagney. She lifted her axe, a smile curving her lips as she raised it and waited for the shadow to reveal itself.
My pulse raced. I needed