The Night Crawler

The Mausoleum

The sound of the motorcycle reverberated through the trees. The road ahead seemed to shimmer from the rain, intensifying the grayness of the concrete. The motorcycle engine hummed, and its solemn song drew the dark of the forest with it, allowing the shadows to gather along the vanishing mile signs of nearby towns. Derek had never travelled this fast, making the trees blink in his periphery, but he kept jerking the throttle, gaining more speed until everything behind him turned to distant dots of black.

The wind in his hair felt like freedom from pain. He knew that the hole in his heart felt smaller the closer he got to her. The smell of moisture followed as the road sloped along a steep hill. The adrenaline kicked in and Derek felt his face flush before everything around sank into silence and his motorcycle made a leap over the old bridge. The motorcycle bottomed out on the landing. It grinded and shot sparks along the road. Derek slammed on the brake, sending rocks and sand into the air.

The ravens sitting on the iron gates of the cemetery soared into dusky overcast skies, as the motorcycle rumbled forward like the bones of a corpse knocking within its coffin. Derek propped the bike on its kick stand, leaving it sit in the pile of wet leaves, and approached the cemetery, a vial of flower dust hanging off a chain around his neck.

The night felt suffocating. It ran its long fingers along Derek's shoulders as he strolled away from Confederate Lane and towards the crypt.

The night whispered under its breath that no one was safe, not even Derek, and its murmurs filled his heart with unease. The trees cast their elongated shadows onto the road, and the tombstones fell into the fog and vanished like tents after the carnival leaves town.

A wide acorn-colored stone structure rose out of the forested side of the cemetery, and slowly cut through the blackness of the trees. It was the Grimwood Family Crypt with marble busts of lions guarding its cloisters. The crypt had stained glass windows, depicting scenes of war, which seemed to emanate pale moonlight. The moonlight highlighted the graveyard below, and Derek sighed with relief, realizing that the warlocks from the Forest of Lost Souls had finally arrived.

The winged black horses, like ravens, grazed outside the crypt. They looked partly decomposed, alive and dead at the same time. Derek meandered past them, as one fanned its black wings towards him. It turned into a woman in her mourning gown. The woman then spun in her dress creating a swirl of magic and swiftly turned back into the image of the horse, sending a chill down Derek's spine. He blinked twice to make sure whatever he had seen was truly gone.

"Took you long enough," Nick rushed out of the unshackled mausoleum doors, snapping Derek out of his vision, and making him jerk away.

Nick's snow-white skin made him look ghostly, like the horses. He charged down the steps and effortlessly pulled the vial from Derek's neck. The string snapped and slipped into Nick's hands.

"They aren't the easiest thing to find," Derek said, watching Nick carefully examine the flower dust that resembled turquoise snowflakes. "Carlyle and I scavenged the Sesame River until the very last rock was lifted from its bottom. Crystal Lilies are the rarest flowers in the Gazer world, and they only bloom underwater," Derek said and fell silent. "How is she? Any changes?"

Nick lowered his eyes and shook his head. "No changes, but you should see for yourself. The warlocks... they haven't started the ritual yet. I am still hopeful," he said, turning his eyes towards the mausoleum. "Come on." Nick told Derek and they both ran up the steps through the withered wrought iron gates and the doors before crossing the magical threshold created by the warlocks.

The lanterns around the mausoleum lit up. Derek felt the cold touch of winter brush against his skin. He smelled the aroma of blooming flowers in the air and the sweet decay of the autumn leaves. The warlock' magic invited different seasons into the crypt.