Shea craned her head to see better. She was in an empty space, what must be an old tower or great hall. There were openings in the wall that must once have been stairs or a balcony.
It was on one of those balconies that she spotted something—a creature that glowed faintly as it drifted several feet above the ground. It captured her attention, and her need for speed was forgotten as she remained rooted in place.
Shea froze, fear creeping up her back and trying to grab hold of her throat. Fear and a sense of desolation.
A ballyhoo. A creature that had once haunted her nightmares. Something often featured in bedtime stories to scare little girls into eating their vegetables. Said to be made of moonbeams and shadows, it ate the core of a person’s essence, sucked it down, leaving them a living husk.
There was a slight movement next to it, drawing Shea’s attention despite the instinctive need to run and not look back. A figure clad in a long cloak, hood pulled up to conceal the face, stood next to the ballyhoo.
How? The ballyhoo should have gulped down anything human without pause. The fact that it seemed to be conspiring was unbelievable.
She backed away cautiously, making her way to the main tunnel, then moving as quickly as she could to her escape point.
Forget subterfuge. Her mother and her people needed to know there was a ballyhoo under the Keep.
There was a short screech that echoed off the rocks seconds after she reached the path out of there. Shea knew without having to look that the ballyhoo had caught her scent. She pushed herself faster, barely avoiding the hole in the floor as she rushed past.
The little gap in the ceiling beckoned. She reached it, grabbing a wood stump and climbing on top. Just as she reached for the hole, the cover slammed closed, sealing her below with the ballyhoo.
“What? Wait!” she said as loud as she dared.
She pounded on the wood, trying to push it out of the way. The ballyhoo let out another cry, sounding much closer than it had before.
The tight feeling in her stomach that had been present since she’d slipped out of her chamber in the Keep grew.
It was only because of her considerable experience, and the knowledge that losing her head was the quickest way to a dirt nap, that allowed her to push that feeling down.
She looked up, before pressing experimentally, gritting her teeth as she strained. The wood lifted less than a quarter of an inch before settling back into place.
“Once more,” she told herself.
She strained, putting her everything into moving that cover. Again, it shifted. Just as she felt a spark of hope, the stump under her wobbled. She lost her balance, landing hard on her back.
She stared up at the ceiling, no gap or ray of moonlight coming through.
She was sealed in. Her escape blocked.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Shea scrambled to her feet. She couldn’t stay here. If she didn’t move, she’d be trapped. Forced to face the ballyhoo with no way to escape.
She tucked in against the wall. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she was grateful she hadn’t taken the time to relight the candle after seeing the ballyhoo. If it had been lit, the candle would have acted like a beacon, drawing whatever this thing was, right to her.
She listened, hearing nothing but the wind through the passage. There must be gaps to the outside for her to hear wind. An interesting fact that was unimportant given the situation she now found herself in.
Shea backed away from her exit, careful not to brush against anything or send pebbles skittering.
There were only two ways out that she knew of. The first—the hole that someone had so helpfully covered—trapping her down here with that thing.
That left the second—the entrance below the cliffs where she’d led Eamon and the rest. Unfortunately, the ballyhoo stood between it and her.
Her back touched stone as that growling cackle came again. She drew her sword, holding it in front of her.
Did she stay here and hope it didn’t find her, somehow overlooking her in the dark, or did she try to make it to where the hole in the floor was and disappear down it before the ballyhoo sucked out her soul?
She took several steps away from the wall. Her chances were better on the move. She’d never been particularly good at waiting for death to come knocking. If it wanted her, it could damn well hunt her down.
Decision made, she dropped her pack.
