LOT'S MOUNTAIN

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: Black Eyes and Fox Tails

It's not the first time I've been hit in the face, but this is worse than any of the times Greg socked me one. Maybe because I feel like I deserve this one.

If I was Dennis, I woulda hit me, too.

I don't lay a finger on the guy, but he crumples right there, falling to his knees. Somebody (I think it's Drew Sherman, but I'm not sure) drags him away. Whoever it was may have said something to me, but all that's a blur.

And then a whole lot of nothing happens. Well, I'm sure something's going on, but nothing that anybody's bringing me in on.

When I talk, I don't say anything about Dennis. "We only have two and a half hours to sunset. That's it."

"Yeah," Grim says.

That's when I look over my shoulder and catch a hint of Loomis before he heads out into the woods with about fifty stone angels. There's some rat-looking things with them. They're as big as German Shepherds and have big spikes down their back and huge black eyes.

The Old Bone Woman is starting to move some forces out now. No matter what, we have to protect this place. I say we, but they haven't given me jack shit to do yet.

How many other monsters are being sent out? Maybe they're making sure we don't get trapped here. Grim tells me a little about what's going on, but he doesn't want to tell me much of anything.

"How much fighting is happening right now?" I say.

Grim just shrugs, but I keep going with my questions.

"Can the Glass Man force his way in here?"

"The Old Bone Woman's magic is working on that."

As soon as he's done talking, silvery webs appear in the trees.

"But the Glass Man's not trying that hard, Dylan." Grim's orbs dim. "He's hiding and we can't find him. Right now, the Old Bone Woman is just trying to figure out where the cemetery hounds are, but we can't find them either."

The Glass Man wants to make sure that we can't find Jamie before it's too late.

I take a minute to mull that over and take out the bone compass. As soon as I open my palm, it starts whirling around again. Is it slower than it was before? Not wanting to think about it anymore, I tuck it back into my pocket.

Grim lays back on the grass and stares up at the sky. Staying quiet, I roll over onto my stomach so that I'm right in front of Nameless.

Nose to nose with the orange fuzzball, I say, "You know, if you want to turn into a tiger-monster that can wipe out thirty cemetery hounds in a single bite ... that would be a-okay."

She sneezes.

Please tell me that's a yes in cat language.

After everything, the universe owes me a little.

"Well?"

Another sneeze.

I take it back. That must be a no.

Then Grim leans over to look at Nameless. The kitten bats at his orbs, slapping at them with her paw. When Grim sends one drifting over her head, she arches backward, flopping down on the ground.

"Sorry, but your cat's just a cat," Grim says.

That earns him a dirty look from Nameless.

"I was just thinking that I found her when everything started to go to hell." I sigh. A dump truck-sized Nameless would be nice. "Maybe there's something else in her that's not a cat."