Max and Sebastian - Chapter 45
Contemporary young adult horror fiction
Dearest Penguin People. (And Puffin People, everyone loves the Puffin People).
Countdown to Chapter 48… Woo, let’s get some deflated balloons…
I haven’t decided what I’m going to do after I wrap up Max and Sebastian. My feelings toward Substack have been bittersweet, to say the least. I have readers on here that I adore and respect, so I doubt that I will give it up entirely. But I have had other encounters that gave me pause.
Currently, I’m working on a short novella. It’s tentatively titled Welcome to the Vincent. It’s about two warring haunted houses and the young woman caught between them. It explores the pitfalls of broken promises, but I’m not much at explaining themes. Communication is my kryptonite.
I might just focus on writing new short stories.
If you are new to Max and Sebastian, please start here…
As always, a special thank you to P.Q. Rubin for the dapper, though admittedly unstable, in both gait and temperament, penguin up top…
From the previous chapter:
A massive oak flew by, it’s roots trailing the ground like writhing eels. It grabbed Larry and dragged him into the seething water below. Ice filled his lungs as he lay trapped beneath its branches on the river bottom…
“So this is how it is,” he thought and for the first time, he was afraid.
It shouldn’t have happened this way. The moment replayed itself over and over in Max’s head.
The tremor, the rending of earth beneath their feet as the monster tore itself from the ground. The way it bounded up the bridge on gnarled roots, its target clear as it slammed Larry into the river.
Just like that, her friend was gone.
“I told him not to come,” she whispered.
For a moment, everything faded. Max was in Autumn’s kitchen, watching Larry pour hot cocoa into dainty china cups, adding marshmallows that Autumn insisted could not possibly be found in her cabinets. Larry looked up at her and winked, extending his hand. She raised trembling fingers to her cheek, feeling the warmth from his touch.
His image shattered under the weight of Eve’s screams.
Leonard’s mouth quivered, then solidified into a hard line. “So much for your grand rescue.”
“Shut up.” She beat his chest with tiny fists. “He didn’t deserve this!”
“You’re right. He didn’t. Whose fault is that?”
Max teetered on the edge.
The imp peered around Leonard’s shoulder, sinking its claws into his neck. “Everything you touch, you kill.”
“So true.” Lady Keres, swathed in ghost fire, appeared on the ledge. She placed a steadying hand on Max’s arm, her hair falling around her shoulders in shimmering waves. Spiders leapt from her ears, swaddling Max in silver threads, weaving and burrowing, their legs clicking like knitting needles as they made their way beneath her skin.
Max went still. Smoke leaked from her eyes as she looked out across the night sky.
Leonard took a step back, making a hasty sign of the cross. “Look at your hands.”
The webs fell away. Max raised shiny black claws flecked with crimson up to her face. Pointed ears, tufted with rough fur, perked in the wind, following every whisper and moan uttered by the storm. Her nose twitched. She smelled Leonard’s fear, dank bog sweat sinking into her lungs.
Geoffrey had been generous in his prediction. No cuddly mouse for her. She was turning into a full-blown rat.
Buttercup appeared, her two ends bobbing in the wind. She wrinkled her nose at the tiny people beneath them, scurrying toward Larry and the fallen tree, its tangled, upended roots waving like a prehistoric squid. Her red eyes flashed. “He died for nothing.”
Max choked back the familiar taste of rusty tin can as tiny drops of fire exploded in her head.
“I’m dying,” she said.
“Don’t fight it,” Lady Keres purred.
Max gazed into the spinning black stones of her evil self.
Lady Keres leaned in, her breath leaving glowing trails of ghost dust on Max’s cheeks. “Your future lies here, within me.”
Max’s face narrowed into a pointed snout as gray fur spread down her body, the violet of her eyes becoming shiny black beads.
Leonard shivered in the rain. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“That’s the point.” Lady Keres waved her arm. He fell on his stomach, catching the ledge, legs dangling over the watery tumult below.
Max watched as he struggled to pull himself up. He had stood over her once, hand extended, only to let her die.
Lady Keres held Max’s shoulders with elegant, cruel hands, squeezing them just a little too tight. “Look at the wicked man. One little push, and he’ll never hurt you again.”
Max edged forward.
Rain cascaded around Lady Keres in radiant drops. “Once he’s dead, his soul is ours. He’ll never come back.”
Max’s lips moved, but no words came out as she stared down at Leonard.
“I know you hate me,” he said. “Just do it.”
And he was right. She did hate him, always had, but still…
The world blurred, only Leonard’s face in focus, twisted and bloated, a mirror of the imp on his back. She crawled toward him, her new form more comfortable on all fours, the world becoming smaller and smaller until all that existed was her claw on Leonard’s wrist. They were right; one push would end it all.
She closed her eyes.
The cry of an infant rose above the storm.
Max froze. It was the wind, nothing more.
Then, clear and plaintive, she heard it again.
“You’re wasting time,” Lady Keres hissed.
The air trembled. Souls, dark and splintered, weaved through the clouds, pursued by a creature with a thousand eyes, one for each ghost.
“What is that?” Max whispered.
Lady Keres’s icy fingers dug deep into Max’s shoulders, her breath leaving trails of frost on her neck. “That,” she whispered into Max’s ear, “is our Collector. It finds wayward souls and spits them into the world Beyond The Gray.” She paused, sparks flying from her fingertips. “No pansy elephant for us.”
The Collector licked the air, devouring the spirits in its path. Max shuddered. “It’s coming for me, isn’t it?”
“Not if you hurry.” Lady Keres pushed her toward Leonard.
Max looked at him. He was slipping anyway. If their roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t hesitate to send her over the edge.
Then once again, the lonely wail of an infant called out to her.
“Do you hear that?” Max asked.
“It’s nothing.” Lady Keres scowled down at the river below.
A gentle flutter in Max’s head became an insistent tap. It said the one word no one can ignore. “Mommy?”
As a side note…none of this was written with AI and I kindly ask that no one use it for training purposes. Thank you :)
Incredible imagery as always! Substack is an emotional roller coaster, but I love reading your work, so please don't leave.