The dim shade who returned to Bratcher’s Corners was less than what Dwade had left of Eugenie. Despite her son’s pull, she was far from bowed. In fact, his attack infuriated her. Mightily.
Terror and fury mingled when he dragged her through darkness. A strange darkness, for it had been broad daylight when it had descended. In a blink, there was nothing to see, nothing to hear, except for Dwade’s steady, echoless footsteps thumping the hard ground and the pink glow of the stone he wore at his throat. It didn’t cast enough light to see by, however. Could he see? How?
Eugenie had drifted behind him, her struggles quieted. If she’d broken free, where would she have gone in the impenetrable night? It was worse than night. There weren’t any stars to light the sky.
When a dull illumination appeared and Dwade’s silhouette came into focus, she dashed toward it. The tether jerked her back. She yanked against it.
“When will you accept you can’t escape? I own you for as long as I wish to keep you.” Dwade’s voice had a dead quality to it. Flat, like old soda.
She snarled, but her attempts to break loose were halfhearted. She was unbowed but tired.
At least he continued toward the light. She was glad to leave the unrelenting darkness, though there was little to note. It appeared they’d entered an underground tunnel. A craggy rock ceiling appeared, which the ground matched. As the light grew stronger, she began to notice small piles of bones scattered here and there. She was unsure if they were animal or human. No skulls were in evidence.
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