Chapter 12 Down the Rabbit Hole, Except with Demons
Wynn
Marlow clears a space in front of the fireplace we can’t use. Moving to the wall without missing a beat, he yanks down some of the framed artwork there and slams the back of the frame into his raised knee.
"Hey!" I shout, but he ignores me. Has he given up on playing Break The Thing with the Other Thing and switched to an easier game, Break Things Indiscriminately?
Marlow tosses the paintings aside, only after the rustic wooden frames. He snaps off pieces, using them to mark out a large square outline with the space inside completely clear.
Then he strips off his shirt.
Toned muscles. Bare skin. The curve of his shoulders catching the light.
Heat rushes to my face. Before I can question why he’s tormenting me or peel my eyes away, Marlow mutters something under his breath.
Strange glyphs shimmer into existence on his skin, joining the tattoos already there.
The new markings are so faint, barely visible.
He grimaces but doesn’t seem too surprised. I think he’s low on power.
The strange tattoos vanish from sight. I grip the doorjamb tightly, the wood creaking in protest, as I resist the urge to get a closer look.
It's just curiosity, not the surprisingly toned muscles, the smooth skin, or the way those tattoos seem to belong on his skin, like they're a key part of him.
If I run my hands down his chest, would the faint symbols appear again?
He takes the key pendant from around his neck and makes an unlocking motion like he's slotted the key into an invisible door.
The square outline he created with the ruined frame disappears, and a soft purple glow illuminates the blank space that the wood surrounded. The shape of stairs appear there.
He looks up at me uncertainly. "Nothing's going to go wrong. But if it does, go get Iggy."
That's enough to quell some of my curiosity. What could go wrong? I start getting a bad feeling. "Hey, hang on a moment."
Marlow sits down on the floor. A translucent figure passes through him and appears before me. A demon.
The demon stands. The eyes and his mannerisms resemble Marlow, but there's more mass to him and he's taller than me, not to mention those horns. Tiny points that fit naturally on his head, and his tail is long and narrow, whirling around in the space behind him.
Both sides of him are beautiful. I’d like to see him more clearly, but he stays transparent and non-distinct, like a spirit. I can’t pull my eyes away, and just when I think we might spend all night staring at each other, the demon turns and glides down the stairs, disappearing into the purple.
"Wait! What can go wrong?" I call after him.
The spirit demon doesn't answer. He's already gone.
I'm still processing what I just witnessed when I spot something shifting on Marlow's chest. Scrawling script near his clavicle says 'no vacancy' and I watch as the 'no' disappears, leaving only the word 'vacancy'. Wow.
Another tattoo changes, a faded pair of horns above his heart. It darkens, becoming full and vivid. One horn is chipped, a perfect representation of Iggy. Iggy?
A flash of movement catches my attention, and Iggy zips in and rushes over to Marlow.
"What's going on?" He flutters around Marlow's body, letting out a wail of concern. "Oh no, what did you do?"
~
Wynn
Iggy flits frantically around Marlow's head, observing him from every angle. His panic is palpable. "Marlow's spirit can cross over, but traversing between planes requires the right tools."
Oh no. I'm starting to understand Iggy's panic. "He doesn’t have those tools, does he?"
"I hid his key, which opens the passageway, but the authorities confiscated his rings first. They have gemstones from the underworld and here. He needs them to guide him. Without direction, Marlow’s spirit can get lost in all the nebulous spaces between dimensions."
The demon mentioned none of this before he opened a passageway. If Iggy had been here, Marlow wouldn't have done it. It was dangerous to use this talent of his… but he did when I goaded him into it.
"Oh, you son of a bitch." I stomp towards him, pulling back at the last second so I don't knock his prone body into the purple light. I'm hardly an expert here and don't wanna accidentally make things even worse. "How could you be so dumb? Get your ass back here so I can kick it."
“I’m not sure what to do,” Iggy whispers.
"Damn it, Marlow," I curse under my breath.
His body sits before us, still and unmoving. He's here, but not here. It takes effort to see the faintest rise and fall of his chest, as if his body is in hibernation mode, powered down until he returns. The tattoo on his chest mocks us with its bright script that declares "vacancy."
"Please come back," Iggy pleads. He places a tiny hand on Marlow's chest.
Nothing happens. Iggy curls around Marlow's neck and whines.
"Please," I whisper, my gaze fixed on him. I can't believe he was so stupid.
How dare he risk himself when I went to all the trouble of saving him? I want to keep cursing him, but I’m angry at myself too. I vented about him being useless. I pushed him into taking this risk.
"Please come back," I whisper again.
The passage flickers as something passes through, and then the purple light fades entirely. For a few terrifying seconds, nobody speaks, moves, or breathes.
Then Marlow takes a gasping breath as his spirit returns to his body. Oh thank God. Or thank… Hades? Thank whoever rules over the underworld.
"Are you alright?" I wonder.
"Never better," he replies, his voice hoarse.
Iggy unwinds himself and flies down to Marlow's chest, colliding into him with such force that Marlow winces and huffs out an "Ouch." Iggy rejoices and hugs him tightly. Marlow brings a hand up and returns the hug.
I hover awkwardly, not touching him, my hands twitching at my sides.
"Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?" I ask.
"It's fine now," he assures me. "I'm back. I'll be okay."
"You aren’t doing that again."
"For once, no argument here," Marlow agrees. He looks tired. “Didn’t even make it to the underworld so I couldn’t bring back any assistance.”
I slump down against the wall as everyone gathers their bearings and Marlow puts his shirt back on.
"You should have told me," I say quietly. "I wouldn't have... you didn't have to... you should have told me."
"Come on, Wynn. This isn’t anything you didn’t already know." Despite the difficulty, he eventually rises to his feet. "I'm useless."
And with that, he walks right out the door.
~
Wynn
I pace the cabin's cramped living room, cursing myself and the demon equally. Marlow could have been lost. Permanently.
And it would have been my fault.
My gaze drifts to a ceramic wolf figure on the shelf, one I've always hated.
I hurl it against the wall. Marlow loves playing Break Things, but it doesn't help me. It doesn’t change what happened.
And now the broken wolf's face stares at me, misshapen on the floor, seeming to judge all my life choices, and I feel a stupid surge of guilt.
Iggy flits around near my head. "Are you worried about Marlow?"
"Of course I am," I say. "What was he thinking?"
"It's hard to tell with you," he says, seemingly ignoring my question. "Since you're always growling and making scary werewolf faces." Scary werewolf faces? "But you can trust Marlow, and I think you'll be good for him."
"Uh, I will?" I reply dubiously.
"You can help him make smart decisions, and he's not who you think he is."
Iggy flies down to perch on the coffee table. I take a seat on the couch.
"Do you know how we met?" he continues. "Lower creatures in the underworld need alliances with higher beings. We rely on them for protection. See my cracked horn and bent wing?"
"It adds character," I say politely.
"Thank you," Iggy touches his chipped horn gingerly. "The thing is, I'm not just made of igneous rock. I'm made of underworld igneous rock, which includes... well, mystical properties. My form can endure nearly anything without even a scratch."
So how did he end up with a chipped horn and a crooked wing?
A dark look passes over the gargoyle’s face as he thinks back to the past. "The master I had before Marlow gave his minions protection from others in the underworld, but we were still subject to his rages when displeased.
He was a Minotaur, and just like a raging bull, he was always angry at something.
Since I couldn't be broken, he took that as a challenge. Eventually, he even made a dent."
Whoa. The underworld sounds intense. How many little creatures like the gargoyle are at the mercy of someone bigger and scarier?
"Us lower creatures are numerous in the underworld," Iggy explains.
"Always underfoot. Not everyone cares about our well-being.
But Marlow put himself between me and my old master.
To gain my freedom, Marlow had to buy me or fight the Minotaur, and Marlow had little power or resources in the underworld. "
"What did he do?"
"He fought," Iggy says.
"Did he win?"
"No, not at all,” he answers matter-of-factly.
“He took quite the beating. And he promised to keep taking one.
" Iggy shoots me a sly look, one he no doubt learned from his bigger buddy.
"Marlow himself wasn't respected, but he comes from a powerful family.
The Minotaur feared offending them, so he gave me to the demon.
We've been together ever since." Iggy perches on my knee, looking up at me with earnest eyes.
"Marlow never treated me as his property.
He always told me we were partners. Don't assume the man you met that first night is really who Marlow is. He’s more than the guy who tricked you. "
"Uh, thank you for telling me this." I don't really know what else to say. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because if you two stop squabbling and actually start talking to each other, I think you'll both be better off."
Maybe he has a point. "You're smarter than both of us put together, aren't you?"
Iggy proudly adjusts his bow tie. "Almost certainly.” He flies off my knee and hovers in the middle of the coffee table. "But if this mates thing doesn't work out and you hurt Marlow…"
Iggy brings his tiny rock-hard fist down on a ceramic pot, shattering it completely. His tail sweeps across the coffee table, knocking over a stack of old coasters and another pot, which wobbles precariously before tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.
Good thing he doesn't play Break Things with Marlow. The little gargoyle could actually do some damage.
"Are you threatening to break me if I hurt Marlow?" I ask, trying to keep a straight face. Those rocky little fists are no joke, but the six-inch gargoyle looks about as intimidating as an angry kitten with his cute red bowtie.
Iggy looks horrified. "Break you? No, never!" Then he looks down at the mess he made and a smug smile appears on his face. "I'll break all your stuff."
That threat I believe. I nod solemnly, then reach out to shake his tiny hand when he extends it.
A six-inch gargoyle just gave me the shovel talk. I have no idea what to do with this, but I know what I need to do next.
Marlow and I need to talk.