LXI
Our lanterns barely held back the dark as the creature emerged from the far end of the chamber, where the shadows pooled thickest. At first it looked like a pile of fur blankets, like scraps of animal pelts stitched together haphazardly, matted and filthy.
Then the blankets shifted. I realized they weren't blankets at all.
They were skins. Embedded in them, scattered randomly like beads were the monster's trophies. Stolen from its victims, were eyes.
A hundred eyes blinked in the cave, reflecting our dim lights.
Human eyes, animal eyes. All staring in different directions, all glossy and lifeless, all reflecting our lantern light like tiny mirrors.
Paulo choked on a breath.
The chief stumbled backward.
Delavega whispered a prayer under his breath.
The creature moved forward, stooping low, cat‑like, its limbs too long, its joints bending wrong. Its claws tapped the stone floor. Five oddly humanoid fingers splayed wide, tipped with razor‑sharp nails that dragged heavily, scraping grooves into the rock.
The claws were giant. They looked heavy, dragging, as if each finger carried the weight of something dead. The monster's body hunched, shifting under the patchwork of skins. Its shoulders rolled like a predator preparing to pounce. And then its head lifted.
A large snouted muzzle pushed into the lantern light. It opened its maw in what looked like a yawn, long, narrow, lined with rows of jagged teeth that didn't match any animal I knew. Too many teeth. Too sharp. Too uneven. Like someone had carved them from bone and shoved them into a jaw that wasn't meant to hold them.
It sniffed the air like a snake, taking in the air around it through the mouth.
Then it gritted it's teeth like a smile, or keeping the scent in to taste it.
The sound of its nails scraping the cave floor echoed like metal on stone, sharp and grating, vibrating through my bones.
Gloria's spirit shrank back, her braids trembling, her red ribbons glowing faintly like embers.
The hat man whispered from the mirror, voice tight and alarmed: "That is no creature of this world."
Delavega raised his lantern higher, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.
"This is what took them," he said. "This is what consumed their bodies."
The monster stepped closer, its hundred eyes glinting, its claws dragging, its teeth gleaming. The cave felt suddenly too small. Too dark.
The creature exhaled—a low, rumbling growl that vibrated the stones beneath our feet. I knew that we were no longer investigating a disappearance.
We were standing face‑to‑face with the thing that had eaten five souls. And it was still hungry.
Behind us, the creature's claws scraped the cave floor. It moved slowly, deliberately, savoring the chase as if it knew none would escape, its nails grinding on the rock floor.
Shhk… shhk… shhk…
Paulo's voice cracked. "He can't win! Mierda! What will we do!"
Delavega shouted something in Spanish as the monster lunged toward him, its hundred eyes gleaming, its teeth bared.
I shook the mirror harder, adrenaline burning through the exhaustion.
"Don't just sit there like a pretty picture," I snapped. "Do something."
The hat man laughed, soft, cold, and delighted. He'd finally gotten to stretch his legs.
"As you wish."
The mirror's surface rippled like water.
A shadow peeled itself out of the glass, long fingers, sharp silhouette, a hat forming like smoke above a head that wasn't fully there. His presence filled the cave like a second darkness, colder than the first.
He stepped forward, half‑formed, half‑real.
"Let us hunt."
The monster roared and the cave trembled.
And the hat man, powered by my energy, launched himself into the dark.
The mirror vibrated in my hand so hard enough that my fingers went numb. I felt the hat man pulling at me, drawing energy straight through my skin, through my bones, through whatever tether bound us together. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't polite. It was an undisguised voracious hunger.
A cold rush swept through my chest as the power left me, funneling into the glass like water being sucked down a drain.
I staggered.
Paulo grabbed my arm. "Señorita! You're pale!"
"I'm fine," I lied, breath shaking. "He's… taking what he needs."
The mirror darkened, swallowing the lantern light. The hat man's voice rose from the depths, low, resonant, almost metallic.
"Exquisite taste."
It wasn't voluntary, nor safe, but it was the only way he could manifest.
This surge was a temporary boost, something he'd experimented with before. A loophole in the binding. The only way to slip partially free of the mirror's constraints for a limited time. It worked, but only until my energy ran out and he was pulled back. Fifteen minutes at most. After that, he would collapse back into the glass, weakened and furious, for the entire time the little cat body he was tethered to would lay comatose in its little carrier.
He'd tried to break away from me once, near a month ago. The council barely contained the fallout. He'd managed to step out of the mirror for a few minutes, a shadow with teeth, before the tether yanked him back like a leash snapping tight, leaving me breathless. He'd managed to save up the energy drawn from the living spirit of the cat, and that ran out quickly. He couldn't draw from me without permission after I guarded against it the first time. The cat barely pulled through. The council laid wards on the poor kitty to prevent the hat-man from drawing on it until it died. I too was a little weakened, but fortunately I had a billion spirit coins worth of soul power to draw upon to recover. But now, this little trick would come in handy.
Fog poured from the mirror, blurring everyone's vision. A tap of metal echoed in the night, slow, measured, rhythmic cadence filled the cave. Heel, cane, heel, cane. Each click echoing far too clearly. The fog parted just enough to reveal his tall figure strolling down the cave floor as if he owned the place, avoiding stalactites. His boots were polished to a mirror shine, the heels striking the stones with a sharp, confident click. A long coat swayed around his legs, and a black cane tapped lightly ahead of him. His top hat was tilted at a jaunty angle, as though he were out for an evening promenade.
"So you've invited me to the dance, pet?"
The fog around him condensed into heads, legs, tails…spectral hounds, not as many as he'd had before, two or three hidden in the fog.
The monster lunged first—its claws scraping the stone in a violent burst of motion, its patchwork body surging forward like a collapsing avalanche of fur and stolen skin. Its snouted muzzle snapped open, rows of jagged teeth clashing together with a sound like breaking glass.
The hat man didn't flinch.
He simply tilted his head, cane tapping once.
The nearest spectral hound burst from the fog, slamming into the creature's side. The impact sent a ripple through the monster's mismatched pelts, eyes blinking wildly in every direction. It swiped at the hound, claws carving through mist—but the hound reformed instantly, snarling.
The hat man stepped forward, boots clicking sharply.
He swung his cane—not like a gentleman, but like a guillotine. The silver tip struck the monster's forearm, and the limb split cleanly, fur peeling apart like rotten cloth. No blood spilled. No bone showed. The creature simply came apart, its stolen skins unraveling.
It shrieked—a sound like a hundred voices crying out at once.
The hat man laughed softly.
"Come now. Don't be shy."
The monster lunged again, faster this time. Its claws raked the stone, sending sparks flying. It swiped at him with a human‑sized hand covered in coarse fur, fingers splayed wide, nails dragging deep grooves into the cave floor.
He ducked beneath the swipe, coat flaring.
His cane arced upward—crack—splitting the creature's jaw. Teeth scattered across the cave like shards of porcelain. The monster reeled, its muzzle hanging in tatters.
A second hound leapt, tearing into the creature's flank. The fog‑formed jaws ripped away a chunk of stitched‑together pelts, revealing nothing beneath—no muscle, no bone, just empty darkness.
The hat man seized that darkness.
He plunged his hand into the creature's hollow chest, fingers sinking into the void. The monster convulsed, eyes blinking wildly, claws scraping frantically against the stone.
He whispered into its ear—something soft, something cruel.
Then he pulled.
The creature's torso tore open like wet paper, collapsing into heaps of fur and eyes that rolled across the cave floor. It tried to reform, dragging scraps of itself together, but the hounds tore into the pieces, scattering them.
The hat man twirled his cane once, amused.
"Do try to stay in one piece."
The monster shrieked again, a sound that rattled the stalactites overhead. It lunged in a desperate final charge, claws extended, teeth bared, eyes glowing with stolen souls.
He met it head‑on. His cane struck the creature's skull with a resounding crack, splitting it down the center. The hounds tore at its limbs. The fog wrapped around its torso, squeezing, crushing.
The monster collapsed, its body unraveling into scraps of fur and empty eyes that rolled lifelessly across the stone.
No blood dripped from his body, no bone.
Nothing left of the humans it had consumed, like a puppet made of cloth and bone.
And the hat man, standing tall, cane tapping once against the floor.
He turned toward me, fog curling around his shoulders.
"Fifteen minutes, pet," he said softly. "Make them count."
His form flickered—already weakening.
The monster was gone. But the cave was not finished with us yet.