Out of all the chapters I've done so far, I've taken the most liberties with this one. Coincidentally, (or not?) this chapter was the most enjoyable to write. Just wanted to share that.

Chapter 21: Warnings from Beyond

Alyssa felt like she was floating. Below her, she saw a splash of blinding white light. It grew larger and larger as it drifted toward her—or maybe she was drifting toward it, she couldn't really tell. She couldn't feel or hear anything, as if she had become formless. Before she knew it the light had engulfed her, and then everything went dark again.

Alyssa suddenly felt cold, a cold that pierced straight through her clothes and clear down to her bone. A thought wormed its way into her hazy mind; was she dead?

No, she was quite alive, lying face down in the dirt. Spitting, she started to push herself up and let out a sharp yelp as hot pain shot through her side. She rolled onto her back with a groan and held still as she mentally assessed the shape her body was in. Aside from her rib and a little joint stiffness, she almost felt refreshed. Thanks to her impromptu nap, she thought wryly, and wondered how long she had been unconscious.

It could have been a few minutes—or it could have been hours. Not that she had hours, if the dark man's warning meant anything. But she still felt that the time that passed in places like this passed differently than it did in her normal time. She had spent at least two hours riding that darn elevator over and over again.

Forcing herself to sit up, she rubbed her tired eyes and looked at her new surroundings. A chilly fog hung heavily in the air, mirroring the murky clouds in the grim sky above. The area was square, with crumbling walls around the perimeter. Points of fir trees peeked over to the aged stone, looking like shadows spying in the darkness. Everything was colored in shades of gray. And all around her were worn crosses and old stone markers.

She was in a cemetery.

"Lovely," Alyssa muttered sarcastically.

Beside her was the glass bottle, looking more gray than blue in the eerie darkness. As she reached for it, her fingers brushed something that crinkled; the bottle was sitting on top of sheets of paper.

Eyebrow cocked curiously, Alyssa returned the bottle to her belt and sat cross-legged as she looked at the pages, which were torn along the edges, like they had been ripped from a book. Strangely, the black words, written in pen, seemed to stand out sharply against the white of the paper, despite the lack of light. Alyssa felt her stomach pull into a nervous knot; the handwriting was her grandfather's.

'What a cruel twist of fate that the father of my beautiful granddaughter is that spineless oaf, Philip. It was necessary for my Nancy to marry, for continuing the Rooder bloodline is a most noble calling. But why couldn't she have chosen someone worthy, a man with strength and integrity? That fool Philip has done nothing but show his incompetency since day one. He has spoken endlessly to Nancy about how he thinks being a Rooder should be handled—something he knows nothing of.

'Unfortunately, his outrageous ideas haven't been brushed aside as they should have been; Nancy has started talking about how she doesn't want my dear Alyssa to be raised as a Rooder. With Alyssa still so small and helpless I can understand her motherly fear, for the life of a Rooder is wrought with danger, but to shirk our family's duty would be a disgrace. But thanks to the persuading of that blasted Philip, Nancy has turned willful and stubborn and won't listen to me on this matter anymore. I can only hope my little Alyssa will overcome this foolishness when she's older.'

The next page looked different from the others. It was wrinkled, and the writing was crooked and sloppy. Alyssa read on, though she was a little afraid of where this was going.

'I can't believe what just happened. I knew the day he married my Nancy that that damn fool Philip would one day push me too far, but what I just discovered has me shocked beyond telling. All this time I had believed that I had witnessed their marriage right here, inside the Hamilton household, but I came across a document that stated that they had married weeks earlier in a private ceremony. I thought it must be some mistake because I could see no reason to do such a thing—to hold a secret ceremony completely without my knowledge—but then I noticed the names written on the paper. If I were to believe my own eyes, my Nancy has committed the most disgraceful act imaginable for a Hamilton—she has taken Philip's name as her own!

'When I confronted Philip, the brainless dolt didn't even bother to deny it, said he saw no reason to hide it in the first place. He even dared suggest that it had been Nancy's idea, that she doesn't want her Rooder heritage anymore—and she doesn't want it for Alyssa, either. When I angrily told him that the duties of the Hamilton family are unavoidable and that it's shameful to even try, he proceeded to insult and defy me by claiming that I've grown old and foolish and cling too tightly to tradition, even threatened to take both Nancy and Alyssa away from me if I didn't leave them alone.

'He's already taken my Nancy from me in spirit, but the thought of losing my beautiful grandchild was too much. I fear I finally snapped, and now my actions have placed me at the same level as the vile creatures we live to rid the world of. But there's nothing to be done about it now. The police will be easily enough to handle; it's Nancy I most worry about. With her mind already poisoned by Philip's ridiculous ideals, she won't hesitate to take my granddaughter away from me. And that is something that I just can't bear. I must handle everything carefully and make sure the truth is never known.'

Alyssa's heart felt as numb as her hands as she lifted her eyes from the page. She stared blindly at the shadowy ground in front of her for several seconds before crumpling the pages into a ball and flinging them at the nearest grave marker. "More lies," she muttered darkly.

There couldn't possibly be any truth to what she had just read—but even as she fought the idea with all she had, her Rooder instincts were trying to tell her otherwise. Memories came, unbidden, pushing their way into her mind and forming a picture across her life that she couldn't deny.

Her grandfather had never spoken of her father, not even once. When her father's name was mentioned in his presence, he would blanch visibly. When she was small there had been pictures of her father throughout the house, but her grandfather had slowly removed them, until only a few remained in her mother's room. No doubt about it; her grandfather had hated her father.

That didn't mean he had killed him, even accidentally—or did it? He had disappeared three years ago, without any warning at all. She tried telling herself that he had good reason to vanish like that, but only one thing came to mind; only the guilty have reason to run.

Wiping her misty eyes, Alyssa forced these dark thoughts from her mind. None of this had anything to do with what was going on now, and there was no point in agonizing over it. She had no way of knowing if her grandfather was even alive. From the tangled jumble of confusion inside her head she snared a single thought and clung to it; her mother was innocent of whatever happened that day, she was sure of that now. Her mother was the one she needed to find; she was the one she could turn to in all this.

Alyssa stood up and shivered as a cold wind suddenly whipped through the cemetery. Around her the trees seemed to whisper as they bowed and swayed. She froze, her heart thumping; it sounded like someone was calling her.

But that was silly. There was no one else around. Though even as she told herself this the sound of hushed voices, as soft as ocean waves in the distance, were carried to her on the wind as it blew over the tops of the trees again. Her hair blowing back from her face, she started walking, moving toward a gate in the stone wall. She suddenly felt like she needed to find the source of those voices. A strange ache was forming deep inside her, as though the fog contained immeasurable sadness.

Through the gate was an area about half the size of the main cemetery. A cracked stone path led across the dry, dead grass, leading up to a pile of rubble. Stone columns flanked the path, all of them broken and lying in ruin. Alyssa crossed the fog-covered ground with slow but steady steps, drawn to the pile of rock and stone. As she neared it, she realized it wasn't just rubble; it was a stone platform, with the remains of a gray stone tomb near the middle of it.

As she approached the platform, the fog parted, moving away from the tomb. The form of a young woman materialized before her, as transparent as the fog itself. She was dressed in full armor, like a knight, with a helmet tucked under her arm. In her other hand she brandished a sword whose blade flickered and shimmered as tongues of fire danced along its length. Her dark brown hair was unmoved by the wind.

Alyssa didn't feel frightened. She felt a jolt of recognition, of kinship. This girl was a Rooder.

A dead Rooder.

As she watched, more warrior women joined the first, each one dressed like they were stepping out of a different time period. They fanned out and stood in different places among the rubble, until there were five of them total, each one holding a flaming sword.

The first one, who's sword burned red, spoke up, her voice low and mournful. "Long have I wandered in the darkness. Ever since I lost my life to an Entity."

"I'm trapped here," said a Rooder in a green tunic and wielding a sword of yellow. "Lost between this life and the next."

"Lost," echoed a third, dressed in a red coat and holding a sword that burned blue, "ever since an Entity stole my heart from me."

A fourth stood tall atop one of the broken columns, wearing chainmail and holding a sword that shone silver. "I failed my mission," she said, her voice harsh. "Now I am cursed to suffer in eternal darkness and pain."

"Don't let it happen to you," said the fifth, a girl with a short black bob and dressed in jeans and a brown windbreaker. Her sword glowed a gentle violet. "Whatever you do, you can't let the Ritual of Engagement take place."

As she was speaking, the five of them slowly started to fade, as if the fog was absorbing them. "Wait," cried Alyssa, rushing up onto the platform. "Don't go yet—what's the Ritual of Engagement?"

They were already gone, and her shouts echoed off into the darkness and faded away. Frustrated, Alyssa kicked at a pebble. "How can I prevent this ritual if I have no idea what it is?" she asked, speaking to no one in particular.

No doubt it was what that trench coat-wearing weirdo had planned for midnight, but what did it really mean? Just what did he plan to do?

Sighing, she turned around to face the cemetery and leaned back a little, resting her rear against the tomb. She let out a yelp and jerked forward as something shifted with a loud scraping sound. Turning around again, she inspected the tomb closely, though she could barely see it in the fog-bathed darkness. As she searched it with her fingers, she felt deep grooves and broken corners, all smooth and not a result of natural decay at all.

Clearly there was someone out there who wasn't interested in the suffering spirits finding their rest.

When searching proved fruitless, Alyssa curled her fingers around the edge and tried pushing. There was another loud scrape and the stone shifted again. Alyssa's heart flip-flopped; the lid was coming off.

The next thought to enter her head was that she was being silly—not to mention disrespectful—and that there was no reason for her to be opening old tombs, but the thought was overpowered by the feeling that this was something else that she needed to do. Her Rooder instincts hadn't steered her wrong yet, so she dug her heels into the ground and started pushing again.

Just when she was starting to think she was never going to get anywhere, the lid fell away all at once, shattering into pieces with an ear-splitting crash as it hit the ground. Peering inside, she saw a deep black hole beneath the tomb, and if the darkness that stretched out beyond her vision meant anything, she was looking down into a tunnel. What surprised her was the warm air that drifted up and touched her face.

Though she was operating in total darkness, Alyssa crawled over the side, hung from the edge and dropped down. She landed on her feet on flat ground and, after making sure she could reach to climb back out, turned around and started down the tunnel.

There was no trace of fear inside her. The warmth of the air was as comforting as the presence of an old friend. And at the end of the tunnel was a soft glow that flickered. As Alyssa drew nearer, the glow grew brighter, until she could make out the lines carved into the walls, forming intricate patterns.

She reached the end of the tunnel and stepped into a small, hexagon-shaped room. The source of the flickering light came from five torches, each one burning a different color that matched the swords of the Rooder spirits. The colors melded together on the walls and floor as the flames flickered and swayed, casting a kaleidoscope of color and shapes around her.

On the wall across from her was the same hexagon-shaped symbol she had seen in the cave. Beneath it was a marble pedestal, and placed atop it was a stone disc. It looked thick and heavy, but when Alyssa hefted it, it felt surprisingly light. One side was smooth, while the other had a crescent moon carved on it.

It was big, but she was just able to squeeze it into her outer jacket pocket. The disc thumped against her side—her good side—as she returned to the entrance of the tunnel and climbed out.

When she returned to the main part of the cemetery, something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye. On the other side of the cemetery, across from the gate she had just passed through, were two large monuments, both standing taller than she did. Adorning the top of each of them was a cross with a design similar to the Celtic Cross. Moving closer, Alyssa saw lettering chiseled across the front of both monuments, but again it was in a language she didn't know.

What lay below the inscription was easier to figure out. A circular hole with a carving of a crescent moon inside it.

"Simple enough," Alyssa murmured, taking the stone disc out and pressing it into the hole. When nothing happened, she moved to the other monument. There was a hole here, too, with a carving of the sun inside it.

Her next task obvious, Alyssa moved away from the monuments and started roaming among the gravestones. She poked around the aged markers, prodding a few here and there, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. She continued to circle the perimeter of the cemetery until she was rounding to the twin monuments again. As she was walking past a small cross with a chip in it, she noticed a large shadow on the wall to her right.

She stared at it curiously for several seconds, wondering what was casting the uneven rectangle—and then it hit her. It wasn't a shadow at all, it was a doorway, full of cracks and not at all as elegant—if a bit tarnished—as the iron gate behind her. Aside from its jagged edges where entire chunks had fallen out, the opening was being taken over by underbrush. Alyssa had to shove her way through, the rough leaves and twigs catching her skirt and scratching her legs.

The dirt path she was now walking on grew a little wider a few feet from the doorway, but the heavy brush and thick trees blocked out what little light there was, forcing her to move forward in complete darkness. She felt along the dirt with her feet, her hands outstretched in front of her to feel for any obstructions—and the glass bottle was out in front of her, too, uncapped and ready.

It wasn't hard to picture her enemy hiding somewhere nearby in an environment such as this. If anything, it suited him better than the metallic hallways had. And she knew their ineffective scuffle couldn't have driven him away, so he had to be close by, watching. Waiting.

Alyssa shivered and plodded on. The underbrush had taken over the path again, and she had to push and shove her way through. When she was finally clear, she stumbled out of the line of trees and found herself in another part of the cemetery.

She felt like she had just walked into a horror movie. The fog was thicker here, the heavy lines of stratus clouds as substantial here as they might have been in the sky. The sky itself had cleared a little, allowing the face of the moon to peek through. Despite the light it created, Alyssa felt far from comforted; seeing it between the widespread patches of gray cloud made her think of an eye pressed to a keyhole. The hairs on her arms stood on end as the feeling of being spied on settled firmly over her.

This new area was wide and open, with a stone path crafted during a bygone era winding through it. Directly to her left was a giant dead tree, complete with a fat crow that squawked angrily at her before streaking from the skeletal branches. Alyssa rubbed her arms as she started down the path, moving past rows and rows of grave markers. They were different from the simple, to-the-point headstones and crosses that were in the walled off area; some bore carvings of roses and thorns, giving them a Gothic look, while others, with their angry gargoyles and other ghoulish features, looked downright macabre.

The path curved and eventually met another, one that looked wide enough to be a road. It was big enough to accommodate a car—and it had. Across the widest part of the road, which curved around a slender monument that was almost as tall as a house, was a blue-gray car. It was tilting to one side, having crashed into the wrought iron fence that bordered the area. The driver-side door hung open, and by the light of the moon that glinted off the windshield, she could clearly see that the car was empty.

For a moment Alyssa could only stare. It looked as out of place in this environment as a stalk of corn in a patch of wild flowers, but there was no mistake; it was her mother's car.

Alyssa stared a moment more before bolting forward. She darted around the open door and checked the front seat, as well as the ground around and under the vehicle. But there was nothing to be found, not even a footprint in the dirt. She was about to give up when she spotted a sliver of white poking out from beneath the seat. She reached for it and felt—as she expected—a slip of paper, and she quickly pulled it free and unfolded it.

There was no greeting, just a hastily written, urgent message.

'I realize now—far too late—that sending you away was a mistake. I should have known it was no use trying to hide you, that the Entities would never give up so easily. And I have learned something that makes trying to keep your Rooder heritage a secret even more foolish; a force even more dangerous than the Subordinates themselves is working against us.

'I left this morning to come get you, as I should have long ago. If you're reading this now it means that I failed to reach you in time—and most likely am dead. Even if I am, I know you can handle this on your own. You're strong—I know you can defeat them. And no matter what happens, remember that I'm always with you in spirit.'

The words on the small paper started to blur as Alyssa's eyes began to fill, and she sank to her knees. She started folding the paper again—and then the all too familiar metallic ringing of an ax flying over her head sounded, followed by an explosive crash at it smashed through the car windshield. Alyssa's dropped the letter and ducked as a shower of broken glass rained down on her and the ground, sounding musical as it scattered across the stone road.

Dazed, she looked up and saw the gray-skinned Subordinate standing on the hood of her mother's car, bent over as he reached through the ruined windshield to retrieve his ax from where it had sunk into the front of the driver's seat. In a flash he spun around and jumped to the ground and, almost as an afterthought, swung his foot out and kicked her hard in the side with his heel before racing across the cemetery with inhuman speed. For a moment all Alyssa could do was lie on the ground, clutching her middle as tears of pain streamed down her face. Her vision was full of spots, and her mind was filled with an unhappy realization; he had figured out her weakness.

When the pain finally ebbed enough for her to move, she got shakily to her feet and looked around. Her enemy was standing near the towering monument, waiting for her to recover. As soon as she spotted him, he ran up the side of the monument, gave a leap and pirouetted in the air before landing on one foot atop the point of the monument, his movements as graceful as they were impossible.

He seemed to enjoy the look of pain and awe on her face, and he grinned wildly before making a sweeping gesture with an ax. "You see? This is what happens to those who dare stand against us. Nancy was just one of the many fools I've had to eliminate—just look around. Most of those lying beneath your feet this very moment were put there by me."

Alyssa didn't doubt it; he was much stronger than either Morris or Haigh, so he had probably been a Subordinate for many years. She thought about the five Rooder spirits and wondered if any of them had been victims of his ax.

She didn't believe what he said about her mother, though.

"She wouldn't lose to someone like you," she declared, backing away.

The Subordinate just laughed and dropped down from the monument. "Believe me or don't, it doesn't matter. It's almost time for the Ritual of Engagement to begin, so get ready to hand over your heart!"

He swiped, as wildly and carelessly as ever; Alyssa dodged backward, turned, and started to run. As her feet pounded the ground, her mind was churning. Again with that ritual; just what did it mean? She didn't assume for a second that 'handing over her heart' was meant figuratively.

She rounded a curve in the road and her thoughts on the ritual faded, her mind turning to ways she could escape. She already knew what was behind her on the other side of the cemetery, and there were no places to hide there, so she had to keep going. Though she wanted to throw her pursuer off track, first.

Thinking fast, she came to a dead stop and curled up on the ground. Taken completely off guard, her enemy ran into her full force. He tripped and went sprawling, and Alyssa was off like the wind. She ran straight back to the car and dodged around to the passenger side, where she crouched down and waited. Within seconds the Subordinate stomped by, muttering angrily under his breath. Alyssa peeked over the hood and waited until he was all but lost in the fog further up the path before moving.

Running as fast as she could without making much noise, she continued down the road, which slowly wound to the right. When all she saw were more rows of headstones to her right and more fence to her left, she was beginning to have her doubts about finding some place relatively safe here—and then she spotted a small building off to the side, half-hidden in the trees. It was falling into decay, but Alyssa hardly cared. She bolted up the creaky wooden steps, threw open the door and went inside.

Inside the cabin was a single room, separated vaguely down the middle by a wall-like structure decorated with dried and stretched skins. Old lanterns hung from the ceiling and Alyssa again wondered what time period she was in—but she was far more concerned with finding a safe place to hide until the danger had passed. She quickly followed the pseudo-hallway until it led her to a section that looked like it was supposed to be used for living in. There was a bed against one wall, a stove against the other, a desk between them, and a curtain hanging in the corner for privacy.

And embedded in the wall above the bed was something that told her she had made a big mistake by coming here; a row of axes of various sizes and shapes, each one of them bloodstained.

She was about to turn around and run back the way she came when she heart footsteps running up the front steps. And there was only one door--which she had left open, all but announcing where she was--and there was no time to find and break open a window.

She was trapped, and all she could do now was listen as the heavy footsteps came closer.