Page 56 of Hoodoo House
He scampered between the main floor walls to the front of the house where he could see his puzzle table through a spy hole. No one there! He continued on towards the noise. It was coming from the direction of the writing room.
Still safely hidden, he peered through holes that looked out into the main hall across from the room where Mr Tull had died. The door to the room lay on the floor, splintered. Through the opening to the room, Henry saw a chair go flying by. Then, a body stepped into view. It was a massive man, all hair and muscle crammed into leather. It was the giant that rode the big motorcycle.
All of a sudden the intruder’s true identity was clear to Henry. How could he have not seen it before?
He looked like…no, he wasMomrath!
He must be defeated once and for all!
Henry went back through the passageways, up the ladder and exited the closet into his bedroom. He picked up the leather mask and zipped it onto his head. He saw himself in the mirror. The Slithe looked back at him.
While Henry would have been afraid, The Slithe was not. He could not be. He was a superhero, one who armed himself with a black leather baton and his trusty…Henry looked around for hisbostaff, the weapon of choice for the warrior that he was. There, in the corner of the closet, was an old pool cue that Henry had found years ago and tucked away. That would do.
This was the moment The Slithe was born for.
He quietly made his way to the stairs. The crashing sounds had changed. They no longer came from the writing room.
Henry carefully crept down the staircase to the main floor, avoiding the creaking treads which were mapped out in his mind. When he reached the third step from the bottom, he was startled by the sound of the red velvet curtains at the entrance to the puzzle room being torn from their rod. Out stepped Momrath.
Henry stood face to face with his arch-nemesis. Henry would have been terrified. But The Slithe… The Slithe knew how to handle guys like this, whoever they were.
The monster stared at Henry. He looked surprised. The Slithe suspected he had the upper hand.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” the intruder demanded.
“I am your worst nightmare, Momrath. I am The Slithe.”
“The what?” he said as he advanced on Henry.
The Slithe grabbed the baton from his belt and flung it at his enemy.
There was a cracking sound as the weapon shattered the bridge of Momrath’s nose, followed by a scream of pain mixed with rage. Blood gushed with force from the man’s nostrils.
Henry yelled in his cracking pubescent voice, “Momrath, you have been smited!” The intruder charged towards him. Henry, out of instinct, backed up and snagged the heel of his foot on a step. As he tumbled backward, the pool cue in his hand got wedged between the riser and the tread of the stair. The intruder dove towards Henry, hitting the old pool cue with so much force that it splintered and dug deep into his shoulder. Blood sprayed everywhere. Momrath’s screams echoed throughout the house.
Henry ran up the stairs, then slipped into the broom closet and made his way into the secret tower room. He could still hear Momrath raging down below.
“I’m going to get you, you little fucker. And then you’re going to tell me where Tull hid that computer.”
From the safety of the tower, Henry saw a car coming up the drive. He recognized the fins of Lem Franklin’s Coupe de Ville. It was clear that the intruder had also heard the car, for a few seconds later, the motorcycle started up and drove away.
As soon as he thought it was safe, Henry ran down the stairs.
Gramma Carol came through the front door. She flicked on the hall light and stared in horror at the smashed-up writing room and the blood sprayed up the wall. She looked down to the broken, blood-covered pool cue which lay on the floor.
“What the… Henry!” she called out.
All of the strength of The Slithe vanished. Henry launched himself at his gramma, and held on to her tightly.
“Gramma Carol, I think you need to call the police.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Declan sat at his usual table at the back of Bar-None. He felt safe here, not that he was expecting anyone to sneak up from behind and knife him. It was just that here he knew he could have a private conversation with the fewest people listening in. And if the conversation ended badly, Declan could always sneak out of the bar through Mickey’s office, which was right beside him.
He saw a mop of unruly blond hair working its way through the crowd.
“Hey,” Charlie said as he sat down across from him. His face was filled with concern. “So,” Charlie started, “you get my texts?”
