Chapter 42
CHRISTOPHER
I don’t know which part is worse.
The name that’s been crossed out or the childish scribbles screaming happy birthday.
“Maddox Shoreshire.”
It comes off as a question, the letters hard to distinguish beneath the thick black line slaughtering each one.
“Chester’s older brother.” Marlin lets out a sigh as he takes in the only name plate on this floor, “A madman in his own right, the two of them have been separated for years.”
“What’s special about the Shoreshire brothers?”
“Besides the fact they love riddles? Not much, to be honest.” Curiosity flickers beneath his smooth facade, “Maddox was supposedly the co-founder of Wolf Hollow. One of the first residents to claim this town as his own, and one of the few who remained after the Dragon took over.”
He pauses, eyes darting down an empty hall.
“His admittance to Hollow House arrived soon after she took control. Something about a conflict of interest.”
I look at him in disbelief, “He got checked into an insane asylum for a conflict of interest?”
“That, and his more obvious nature.” A smile flutters past his lips, “I hope you’re in the mood for a cup of tea.”
Before I can ask what the hell that means the door to the cell swings open.
Streamers, bright and colourful cover the entirety of the floor. Made from wrappers and pieces of discarded garbage, it’s an explosion of cheap, childish joy that spills from a patient’s futile attempts at decoration.
Two plastic folding tables sit in the middle of the room, their uneven surfaces cluttered with plastic cutlery and teacups that are covered in chips and paint scratches.
It’s every parent’s nightmare, and that’s before you take in the disfigured animals sitting round the table.
The headless, decapitated stuffed animals keeping an old man company.
“Merry, merriest birthday to you!” A pink teacup clinks itself against a green one, each missing chunks of plastic from their base, “And a merry, merriest birthday to me! To me?”
Chortling and clutching his chest, the man breaks out in hysterical laughter.
“That’s unbirthday to me, my friend! We’ve got another three hundred and fifty-five days until my own.”
I watch the interaction continue, each broken toy receiving the same cheerful greeting and an offer of a cup of tea. A faded green bowtie hangs hopelessly on the man’s ratty cotton suit, it’s dismal presence a stark opposition for the two front teeth that beam out of a wrinkled mouth.
“He looks so... happy.”
Marlin snorts beside me, rolling up his shirt sleeves before bending down to grab one of the many guests clustered around the tea party.
“Don’t let the silly behaviour fool you. The Mad Hatter is in the high security chamber for a reason.”
A mouse squeaks in his hands, its robust belly activating a sound device. Fluff and polyester presses up through the gap at the top, the hole where his head ought to be.
“Jack Heart must have donated a few of his victims.”
“Who?”
“A local actor.” A smirk pinches the corner of his mouth, “Very minimal talent.”
“I’ll say it’s rude. Very, very rude indeed.”
Maddox’s voice jumps up in volume, an unsettling pitch that wobbles with each word.
“New guests must have a cup of tea! A cup of tea, I’ll say.”
The old man skips and twirls around the table, refilling each empty glass with the air from his own. Not a drop of liquid hits the colourful mugs, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference to the headless audience.
A top hat wilts from its position on his head, a flower that looks ready to leave its stem. Birthday pins are proudly glued to every spare inch of the thing while bright pink ribbon wraps around the crumbling exterior.
Desperately trying to keep everything in place.
“Time to see if your charm works on the same sex, Deville.”
Marlin lifts a brow, the challenge clear in his eyes.
Bastard.
“Charming? Did someone say charming?”
Maddox’s head snaps in our direction, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Frizzy strands of grey hair creep out beneath the base of his top hat, the wide brim struggling to keep the grey mane under control.
“Not charming, mate. Just friendly.”
“You’re not charming.”
Liver spots dance across saggy skin, loose bags drooping beneath blue eyes that look sharper than they did a minute ago.
“I didn’t say I was.”
“He did.” A weathered finger points accusingly at Marlin, “The lost sailor. He claimed you were the treasure that’s never been found.”
“Right, well, he says a lot of things-
“YOU’RE NOT CHARMING!”
The plastic teacup comes hurtling towards my head.
I duck just in time, only for a different hunk of plastic to bounce off Marlin’s suit. The colourful teacups clatter to the floor, the energy in the room shifting from dismally cheerful to violently defensive real fucking quick.
“No. No. No!” Screaming at the top of his lungs, Maddox climbs onto the table and starts kicking shit in every direction. Headless mice and bunnies go flying while tuffs of grey hair tremble and shake beneath the mad state of their hatter.
Marlin sighs, reaching into his suit jacket pocket and pulling out a velvet pouch.
“Make yourself useful and go pin him down.”
A syringe and a vial tumble into his hand, the clear liquid swishing ominously in the glass jar.
“We’re supposed to keep him alive.”
“Alive, but not conscious.” Inserting the needle, he starts to draw out the liquid, “It’s a new sleeping drug that’s not yet been released to the market. Eight hours predicted, with a ten hour maximum.”
“Oh.”
“A fascinated topic that won’t mean much unless you pin him down.” Marlin gives me a look that’s equal parts impatient and condescending, “Unless you no longer find yourself capable of completing that task?”
Dick.
Gritting my teeth, I veto my response for the sake of the operation at hand. Maddox is still screaming nonsense, lyrics and rhymes that have no meaning while his tea party goes from a smashing success to just plain smashing.
“Alright, mate. Let’s calm down and try to be civil.”
Plastic shatters on the wall and that’s my cue to throw friendly out the window.
Diving across the tables, I grab a skinny ankle and haul the man back towards me. Boots riddled with holes lash out, kicking and bucking against my grip as Maddox does his best to wiggle himself free.
Two blunt teeth sink into my flesh and I let out a curse.
“Can I get some fucking help?!”
A flash of gold is all I see before Maddox’s head gets ripped back. Tentacles dance across Marlin’s fingers as he jams the needle into the base of the old man’s neck, causing the madman’s screams to fade into a hysterical laughter.
“Up, up the stairs the nightmare crept. Hunting for where the child slept.”
His eyes fall inward, crossing and uncrossing themselves as the sleeping drugs take hold.
“The father screamed and the mother cried but no one...” Hiccups break through throaty gulps of laughter, the tendrils of mirth that don’t pair well with the scene in front of me.
A drop of blood leaks from his nose to the wide stretch of his lips, a permanent grin that doesn’t falter when his eyes roll into the back of his head.
“But no one knew the monster was already inside.”
Maddox sags in my arms, his head collapsing in the crook of Marlin’s elbow.
I blow out a breath, watching his chest continue to rise and fall. Silence descends upon the room, a heavy kind of silence that makes you wish there was music or something to chase the feeling away.
“What the hell was he talking about.”
Goosebumps break through the surface of my skin, a shiver taking over my body. Marlin doesn’t answer for a while, his unusual eyes studying the man sleeping in his arms.
“I am not entirely sure.”
A confession laced with something deeper, a hint of suspicion that has my own increasing.
Before I can question it, Marlin bends down and throws the lump of flesh over his shoulder. The top hat tumbles from Maddox’s head to the dirty floor, his frizzy ends bursting from every stray pore.
“Time for us to go.”
It pains me to see the pink ribbon discarded so carelessly, the hat that brought so much joy diminished to an item lost and left behind.
I don’t think before I bend down and grab it, fuelled by the need for this man to have something to call his own. The faded green material looks just as wilted between my hands, a look that gets reflected through Marlin’s dismissive glance.
“Leave the garbage where it belongs.”
I fold the worn material carefully, collapsing the hat into a shape that won’t destroy its original figure.
“When you have nothing, you tend to appreciate everything a little bit more.” My lips pinch into a rueful grin, “Even garbage.”
We leave the room with Maddox Shoreshire and his top hat in tow. Wincing at the alarms blaring through the building, I have to fight to keep my hands from covering my ears.
Code red. I repeat, code red.
Boots echo through the halls, the asylum’s security detail making their way through the chambers one-by-one. Marlin shifts the stolen patient higher on his shoulder, his stride lengthening as the guards draw near.
I race ahead, running down the hall and shoving the key into the slot. A quick turn has the door creaking open, a gloomy set of stairs leading into the basement of Hollow House.
“Lock the door.”
Easier said than done when the lock is on the outside.
By the time I find something to barricade the door with, Marlin is already halfway down the stairs, ducking his head beneath the low slant of the ceiling.
Welcome to the Andreas Morgue. The Gateway to the Other Side.
Blue flames envelope the words, a mural and an entrance tied into a single engraving. The stairs bottom out into a hospital-like setting, gurneys and embalming instruments lying silently against sterile sheets and disposable bins.
“What is this place?”
“A passage to the Underworld. Or so the Andreas family believes it to be.”