That meant we had to get out on to those contorted root-things. The moonlight—or whatever the hell it was—brightened a tad and I could see that the landscape stretched away indefinitely, another maze. From out of the stone defile, the swirling spirit creatures, now re-grouped, came tumbling. They had the look of harpies on Benzedrine, intent on mayhem.
The Raggedy Man moved a whole lot quicker than I would have expected, doubtless prompted by the prospect of being shredded and fed to the pool-dwellers. So our little company moved on to and across the root maze as quickly as we could without slipping off and plunging into what would have been a revolting bath. Writhing tongues slapped at us as we passed, thick greasy fingers, green and stinking. Mercifully the two girls remained in a stupor, so I was able to keep them moving, their eyes glazed, their expressions empty.
Miraculously we reached a wider expanse of root, like a flattish area of trunk, slightly raised up, a kind of crossroads. Several paths led away from it, though they all seemed to head into an even more dismal mire. Fog billowed, shutting us in. We looked back and saw that the aerial creatures had again pulled up as if something in this place deterred them.
As we studied the marsh, things began to ooze up from it like bloated plants, vaguely human shaped, dripping with muck, emanating tendrils of vapour and exuding a stench that curdled the blood. They clawed their way out on to the root paths, slithering, snake-like along them. My guess was there were scores of the things, mud-beasts, shaped like fat slugs, unfinished and ungainly.
We were surrounded. “Henry, it really is time for that exit tune,” I told him. “Either that or the last post.”
He shrugged. “I was hoping to avoid this,” he said, “but I think maybe I’m going to have to give it the old Entropy Chord. You might want to block your ears.”
I told you he was an impulsive lad. With Henry, you didn’t always get a chance to deliberate with him. This was one such time.
He gripped the guitar firmly, fingers of his left hand fixing its strings tightly to the frets, and ran his right hand down dramatically. The chord that erupted—oh, yes, erupted—from the instrument was like the crack of doom. It thundered outwards around us like a miniature tsunami. Well, maybe not that small. As the sound waves hit the things that were gathering in their disgusting multitudes, they burst like ripe fruit, showering the mire—and us—in filthy, sizzling gobbets of muck.
The whole structure under us shook as if it would crumble. I could vaguely see shapes back at the mouth of the stone labyrinth exploding, turned into a white cloud. I was getting a bad feeling about this. Like everywhere was about to disintegrate. That Entropy Chord was the trumpet of doom, a real world-ender.
“Henry,” I called above the din, “I’ll say it one last time—you really need to play the exit tune. It’s time to go home.”
He steadied himself, grinned like an idiot, and thankfully did as I asked. The two girls had partially come round, no doubt shaken awake by the apocalyptic events around us. I took hold of each of them as the new chords and riffs rippled from the blue guitar. It pulsed with life, the air about us went abruptly very still and for a moment everything stopped as darkness closed in.
When light seeped back into our little bubble, we seemed to be in another old building, not unlike the one Henry and I had first entered. The five of us moved through its dusty corridors and out through a broken door to stand on a sidewalk, where dim light splashed down from neon signs across the street. The two girls shook themselves, still dazed. I wondered if they’d remember anything of the bizarre events we’d all come through.
We didn’t stay long enough to find out if anyone had followed us. My guess was, whatever chaos the Entropic Chord had unleashed, the Cold Lady and Spiderhead had survived it, one way or another.
Henry was still gripping the guitar like it was welded to his fingers.
“I think maybe it’s time to put that goddam thing back in its case,” I told him. I noticed that it had lost its blue glow and it looked like any other battered old guitar.
“It’s okay, Nick. Once the Entropy Chord’s been played, it takes a long time for the guitar to re-charge itself.”
Suki turned to Henry, her face breaking out into a big smile. “Henry!” she chirped. “So nice to see you.”
The kid looked embarrassed. Now, that was a first.
Maria also managed a smile, but the Raggedy Man had already beaten a hasty retreat into the night. What the hell, he’d earned his freedom.
“Come on, you guys,” I said. “I know somewhere we can get a stiff drink and a clean-up. And I know who’ll pick up the tab.”
There were no objections.
* * * *
“Piece of cake,” said Henry.
We were sitting in a late bar, the two girls almost asleep beside us, their drinks untouched on the table. I’d been that thirsty I’d sunk two bottles of beer and had a third in front of me. Henry didn’t usually drink alcohol, but after our exhausting escapades had managed to down a bottle of beer himself.
“It bothers me,” I said. “I know we had that crazy guitar to get us through, but don’t you think it was a might…easy?”
He frowned. “One false step and we’d have been dragged into that mire.”
“I know. I’m just saying.” I let it go for now. “You get the girls somewhere safe and we’ll talk about it when Ariadne gets back.”
I left him to it. Outside, the night life buzzed, and there didn’t seem like there would be any immediate moves from the mob we’d cheated. I reckoned Henry would take care of things for the time being.
* * * *
A few days later, after Ariadne had returned, I gave her a blow by blow account of the rescue of the two singers. Like me, she thought maybe we’d got off lightly, given the kind of powers we’d been up against.
“You smell a rat,” she told me, knowing me well enough to read me and my murky mind. “What are you thinking?”
“The girls—are they okay? Anything out of order?” I’d had Henry deliver them to her. No one had tried to interfere. It was like the Cold Lady had given up on them. Maybe she had, but then again—
“They don’t seem any the worse for their experiences,” said Ariadne. “And it hasn’t affected their singing. They’re coming on fine. In fact, I’ll be ready to give them their first night at the club soon. Warm up act for FiFi Cherie at the Big Jamboree I told you about. It’ll be the place to be seen. You’ll be there, of course.”
“Front row,” I grinned. “But you’d better have the place well protected. There’s a couple of things bugging me. For one, the Raggedy Man told us the girls were being groomed by Carmella Cadenza. To do the work of the Angels of Malice. Which was to unleash the Pullulating Tribe.”
“What else?”
“Something Henry said the other day. He was wriggling with embarrassment like a teenager on his first date—which he is not—when he told me that Suki is not as hot as she was. Now, maybe she’s cooled off toward him, or just needs a bit of private space after her little adventure. You know more about these things than me. Apparently, she don’t kiss like she used to. Kind of dead, as Henry put it.”
Ariadne gave me her thoughtful frown. “May be something in it.”
* * * *
For the next few days, I chewed over the events in the stone world and our remarkable abduction of the two girls. Remarkable, yeah. The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. With all the powers at their disposal, the Angels of Malice—who’d had us at their mercy—had let us slip through their clammy fingers. Sure, I’d been protected and we’d had the guitar, but it was their world, bulging at the seams with their teeming hordes. No, something was wrong.