Play of Shadows

2.8: X Marks the Spot

"Whatever! I'll look out for Mr– for your friend, alright? Are you going to help, or not?"

"I didn't say he was a friend."

"K!"

"Breadcrumbs," K sighed, as if Ann was the one wearing him down with nonsensical conversation.

Ann swallowed the first two things that she wanted to say in response. "What," she snapped.

"The players caught by creatures at each stage. They're breadcrumbs," K explained. Without actually explaining a thing, of course.

Ann tried to follow the spider silk-thin strand of logic. "Like in Hansel and Gretel?" she guessed.

There was a short clapping sound, as mocking as it was cheerful, then silence. K was gone.

"Ugh," Ann groaned as she laid her head on the table. "Breadcrumbs. That's his big clue?" Her lips left red smears against the wood as she muttered to herself, each shaped like a flower petal. Beneath her, the ship swayed on a sea of ink.

"What's the point of this instance anyway?"

Ann sat up at once, sending her shadow hugging the curve of her shoulders scattering back against the wall.

"What is the point of this instance?" she breathed.

***

Frances threw a whining teenager with one hand and grabbed a swinging bat with the other. All of this as he attempted to disembark a pretend-ship while fleeing from a weeping statue.

He was decidedly not enjoying this instance.

"Shut up!" he snarled at the man yapping about a monster and collecting clues.

"It could have the key!" the man who was now sans a bat argued, not backing down. He had been swinging the bat at the statue, hoping to break it apart.

Frances shouldered past him, moving the man bodily further away from the pit of cement just as the siren swiped a clawed hand their way. The man scrambled back until he hit the nearest wall. Frances sneered.

"It could be the key," Michael murmured.

Frances looked at the siren. The siren stared back, frozen mid-reach. Its eyes were large and flat in its face. The arm it had stretched to grab them rippled with small shivers. The other, clutched under the creature's chin, bulged over whatever the siren had in its grip.

"I don't think so," Frances said. "It's something round. And glowing."

"A clue, then," Michael hummed.

The hall plunged into darkness. It was happening with greater frequency now, and the lights remained off longer every time. The players barely reacted anymore.

Michael yelped. Frances turned toward the sound, snarling, blind in the dark. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing. I'm fine, just," Michael trailed off. The note of unease in his voice had Frances' hand clenching around the bat.

Light spilled from above, briefly blinding. A long shadow fell over Frances. When he looked up, he saw the siren curved above them, balanced on a serpentine tail that was easily six feet long – and that just the part that was visible above ground.

Frances eyed the creature. When it didn't move, he turned flinty eyes on Michael.

"Just, what?" he said.

"Hm? Oh, I thought I felt something – but it doesn't hurt now," Michael said, gesturing absently at the back of his head.

Frances moved behind him. He sucked in a startled breath, which he let out as a curse.