Greatshadow by James Maxey Read Free Book Online Page B

impervious skin.
    She reached down and hooked two fingers into Bigsby’s nostrils and lifted him to eye level. Bigsby raised his hands to grab at her fingers, a dumb move considering he had a knife in his hands. He cut a gash across his cheek, nearly blinding himself. The blade tumbled from his fingers, landing upright in the floor as Infidel growled, “And I’m sick and tired of your little game!”
    I barely paid attention to her words. There was a line of blood along the edge of the knife. As it slowly rolled down, forming a red bead, I once again had the sensation of a heartbeat. I waved my phantom fingers before my face as they materialized. I sucked in a ghost breath, savoring the sensation.
    “If you like to play games so much, let’s play one called ‘hotter, colder,’” Infidel said as she spun Bigsby around like a fish on a gaff. He squealed from the pain. “When I get closer to the map, you call out ‘hotter!’ When I move away from it, say, ‘colder!’”
    Bigsby’s eyes flicked once more to the door to the porch.
    “Outside, huh? Through that door?” she said. She didn’t wait for his answer.
    He didn’t say ‘hotter’ or ‘colder’ as she reached for the doorknob. Instead, he jabbered, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
    My foggy guts knotted as she touched the doorknob.
    She yanked the door open and stared into the burlap-covered crotch of a man who had to be a dozen feet tall. Only his legs and lower torso could be seen. The rest of his body was above the level of the doorframe. An impossibly large hand with nine fingers clamped over Infidel’s face. Bigsby tumbled from her grasp. The giant jerked Infidel from her feet and flung her far out over the dark waters of the bay. I could hear her curses fade off into the distance, until at last there was a faint, faraway splash.
    Bigsby curled into a fetal position where he fell, his hands clamped over his bleeding nose. A hunchback suddenly stuck his head into the room from behind the giant. His whole body was concealed beneath a tattered gray cloak; his head hung so low beneath the misshapen lump of his back that it was nearly even with his waist. He supported his ill-distributed weight with a gnarled staff, grasped with equally gnarled fingers. His hands were wrapped tightly in filthy brown gauze; not a single inch of flesh was visible. Beneath his hood, his face was concealed by a burlap sack; blood-red eyes peered through two holes. The inhuman eyes made my ghost skin crawl. I moved in closer for a better look, trying to fathom what manner of creature this might be. The hunchback cast a baleful glare toward me.
    Though he didn’t say anything, I heard a voice whisper, “This is none of your concern, blood-ghost.” Invisible hands grasped my limbs and pushed me back. They lost their strength as they reached the bone-handled knife, but I couldn’t move any closer. I was frightened by this stranger and scared for Infidel, yet also weirdly excited. He saw me?
    “Can you hear me?” I asked.
    The hooded man turned his head to look at Bigsby, ignoring my question. But, the way he held his body, it looked like he was choosing to ignore me; I was certain he’d heard my words.
    “Pull yourself together,” said the hunchback, staring down at Bigsby. “She won’t be bothering you again. Patch has disposed of her.”
    Patch, apparently, was the giant. At the sound of his name, the creature squatted in the doorway. He proved to be far more misshapen than the hunchback. All his features were twice the normal size. His arms were bare, and his biceps looked like they were woven from at least three different sets of arms; long, dark-threaded stitches held his patchwork flesh together. His face was almost impossible to look at. The left half and right half of his face were different shades, and the scalp and brow were a different tone entirely. He’d plainly been sewn together from the skin of more than one man.
    When Bigsby remained in his