The Crone And The Curse: A Novel in The Atalante Chronicles by Nicholas W. King

Author:Nicholas W. King [King, Nicholas W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

I’d never seen my home from the other side before. It was larger than the physical version, but it was... empty. My living room’s walls are a soft white-yellow in the physical world. The gnomes who redecorated said it was a soothing color. In Sideways, the walls were gray, with splotches of color to break up the monotony. If you’ve ever seen a Jackson Pollock painting, it looked like that.

What furniture was here was also substantially larger than its real-world counterpart. My couch had a duplicate version of itself not too far to my right. It was sepia-toned, with a kaleidoscope of shifting colors, none of them pleasant looking. I guessed it was from the sleepless nights I’d spent on it, unable to escape terrible memories that seemed to appear without reason.

The Sideways version of my kitchen to my left looked like the set from a haunted house. Shadows moved along the footpaths around the island in the center. They would stop at the cabinets where several spirits lazily spun in the air. The wisps of spiritual energy that hung around where my collection of whiskey bottles sat could barely keep themselves afloat.

And there was a gap in the wall where someone had blasted through the metaphysical version of my home.

That someone now held me aloft about three feet from the floor by a single, clawed hand. Great bat-like wings spread out from his titanic-sized body. Unfurled as they were, the wingspan was easily six feet or more from tip to tip. Pallid black hair hung from his head down past his shoulders. Above his eyebrows were four or five bone protrusions that formed individual horns. His skin was a shade of obsidian so dark that I was sure light wouldn’t even reflect off it. Except for the eyes. The eyes were shining jewels of enraged silver, glowing with an intensity that would burn me alive.

Chernobog’s body had burns covering most of it, the result of him smashing through the warding glyphs I’d placed around my home. I could see muscle and bone on his chest and ribcage in places. He must have soldiered through the blast from the glyphs before smashing through the wall. He had been wearing long robes that were jet black, but the defensives spells had torn those to shreds. It’s an awkward moment when you realize you’re being held captive by a mostly nude god.

From my vantage point, I could see over Chernobog. The door to my office was closed. That entire section of the house disappeared, shrouded in layers upon layers of protective magic. The Faraday Cage office was working and both Angela and James were safe. That was one less worry to deal with. Now I just had to contend with a pissed off deity who’d come to collect on a debt.

“Your wards are effective,” said Chernobog breathlessly. His voice was robust in his authentic form, deeper than any bass drum I’d ever heard in the actual world. His grip on my coat tightened.

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