Read Online In the House of the Wicked by Thomas E. Sniegoski - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Thomas E. Sniegoski
Tags: Remy Chandler
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to kill him.
The hobgoblin figured that it probably all started with his birth, when his kicking and screaming from his mother’s womb resulted in her death. That didn’t go over well with his father, to say the least. And from that day forward it seemed as though someone had pinned a sign on his back saying KILL ME, and that’s what everybody had been trying to do since.
Of course, it hadn’t helped that he’d gotten himself mixed up with a band of would-be heroes—monsters, ghosts, and magick users trying to save from various supernatural threats a version of the Earth that he had made his home. At first that had seemed like a really good idea, but in the end…
Not so much.
The hobgoblin hated for his thoughts to go there; he’d spent too long remembering what had happened to his friends and the world that they had been trying to save. Emphasis on trying .
But failing miserably.
He’d used the Shadow Paths to travel to other worlds just like the one he had lost. Though details varied, he found them all on the verge of heading down that same road his world had gone, or, worse, having already succumbed to the planet-devouring threat.
No, he would just stay here in the realm of darkness. It was simpler here, and the things that tried to kill him were only doing it because they loved the taste of hobgoblin meat.
Nothing more complicated than that.
Squire dug into the insect’s carcass with his knife, breaking the thick shell to get at the soft insides. Just like lobster, but different, he thought as he cut away the foul-smelling meat and shoved it into the lined leather bag that he always carried.
He felt the disturbance in the air behind him and readied himself for another attack, but as he turned, he realized that it came not from an imminent threat but something off in the distance. The sky in this place was like a black velvet curtain, and as he gazed across the plain of shadow, it looked as though something was moving behind that curtain, punching and pushing on it.
Stretching it.
He’d never seen anything quite like it, and got that nasty feeling in the pit of his belly that told him it couldn’t be anything good.
Leaving his kill, he trudged closer. The phenomena intensified, the sky writhing like the belly of a shadow snake after swallowing its prey alive. Squire suddenly knew that something was about to happen—he could feel it on his skin like pinpricks of electricity—and he raised his cloak to cover his face just as the explosion came.
The sound was deafening in the dark and quiet world. The force of the blast tossed him across the blackened landscape, tumbling like a pile of dry fall leaves, until he managed to sink his fingers into the solidified shadow that comprised the ground of this place, stopping his progress.
As the winds died down, he carefully climbed to his feet and could not believe what lay before him. Where there had once been only rolling plains of shadow, there now stood a house…a mansion, really.
It sat there, squatting in the perpetual gloom like some gigantic prehistoric toad.
The air was tinged with the stink of ancient magicks, and he knew that the dangerous environment that he had come to embrace had now been changed forever.
“Fuck me,” the hobgoblin grumbled before spitting a wad of something hard and green onto the ground. “There goes the neighborhood.”
The Deacon Estate
The Shadow Lands
Sixty-seven Years Ago
Deacon had wished them all dead, using every ounce of power his body had stored.
He had never expected to awaken, but his eyes did open and the nightmare that his world had become was reintroduced to him. His wife and son were still dead, his research ransacked. The bodies of his enemies were nowhere to be found, and he had to believe that the spell he had cast had failed.
Weak beyond words, he dragged himself from the basement study, leaving behind the remains of his family.
He hauled himself up the stairs to the first floor, remembering
The hobgoblin figured that it probably all started with his birth, when his kicking and screaming from his mother’s womb resulted in her death. That didn’t go over well with his father, to say the least. And from that day forward it seemed as though someone had pinned a sign on his back saying KILL ME, and that’s what everybody had been trying to do since.
Of course, it hadn’t helped that he’d gotten himself mixed up with a band of would-be heroes—monsters, ghosts, and magick users trying to save from various supernatural threats a version of the Earth that he had made his home. At first that had seemed like a really good idea, but in the end…
Not so much.
The hobgoblin hated for his thoughts to go there; he’d spent too long remembering what had happened to his friends and the world that they had been trying to save. Emphasis on trying .
But failing miserably.
He’d used the Shadow Paths to travel to other worlds just like the one he had lost. Though details varied, he found them all on the verge of heading down that same road his world had gone, or, worse, having already succumbed to the planet-devouring threat.
No, he would just stay here in the realm of darkness. It was simpler here, and the things that tried to kill him were only doing it because they loved the taste of hobgoblin meat.
Nothing more complicated than that.
Squire dug into the insect’s carcass with his knife, breaking the thick shell to get at the soft insides. Just like lobster, but different, he thought as he cut away the foul-smelling meat and shoved it into the lined leather bag that he always carried.
He felt the disturbance in the air behind him and readied himself for another attack, but as he turned, he realized that it came not from an imminent threat but something off in the distance. The sky in this place was like a black velvet curtain, and as he gazed across the plain of shadow, it looked as though something was moving behind that curtain, punching and pushing on it.
Stretching it.
He’d never seen anything quite like it, and got that nasty feeling in the pit of his belly that told him it couldn’t be anything good.
Leaving his kill, he trudged closer. The phenomena intensified, the sky writhing like the belly of a shadow snake after swallowing its prey alive. Squire suddenly knew that something was about to happen—he could feel it on his skin like pinpricks of electricity—and he raised his cloak to cover his face just as the explosion came.
The sound was deafening in the dark and quiet world. The force of the blast tossed him across the blackened landscape, tumbling like a pile of dry fall leaves, until he managed to sink his fingers into the solidified shadow that comprised the ground of this place, stopping his progress.
As the winds died down, he carefully climbed to his feet and could not believe what lay before him. Where there had once been only rolling plains of shadow, there now stood a house…a mansion, really.
It sat there, squatting in the perpetual gloom like some gigantic prehistoric toad.
The air was tinged with the stink of ancient magicks, and he knew that the dangerous environment that he had come to embrace had now been changed forever.
“Fuck me,” the hobgoblin grumbled before spitting a wad of something hard and green onto the ground. “There goes the neighborhood.”
The Deacon Estate
The Shadow Lands
Sixty-seven Years Ago
Deacon had wished them all dead, using every ounce of power his body had stored.
He had never expected to awaken, but his eyes did open and the nightmare that his world had become was reintroduced to him. His wife and son were still dead, his research ransacked. The bodies of his enemies were nowhere to be found, and he had to believe that the spell he had cast had failed.
Weak beyond words, he dragged himself from the basement study, leaving behind the remains of his family.
He hauled himself up the stairs to the first floor, remembering
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