The Flesh Labyrinth: The Lost Ones Trilogy, #3

By J. Peter W.

The final book in The Lost Ones Trilogy

The fate of both the world of the living and the world of the dead depends upon whoever reaches the blue flame first.

Makin and Frankie, led by Queen Istil, must race through the fey labyrinth in order to get to the flame of Tuatha before Erchon, the rogue elf, can get his hands on it. But the maze is filled with dark creatures and more zombies by the minute.

If Makin wants to save his brother's spirit, along with the rest of both the living and the dead, he needs to figure out the way through the flesh labyrinth before it's too late.

Book 3 in The Lost Ones Trilogy

• Language: English
• Publisher: DP BOOKS
• Release date: Feb 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781981499328

Book preview

The

FLESH

LABYRINTH

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J. Peter W.

(into my doom the soldiers march)

Tides of glass, return to ash.

In the dawn, we follow the path away from the sun.

Shadows cast in wake of the past.

Reaching out, into the dark and out of the light.

Crawling underneath our feet,

a river running black and green

from the heart of the gallows tree,

where the future and our fate

will bleed into the world below.

Stone to bear the mountain stairs.

In the night, we dance with our devils and dine with the snakes.

The dead will stare in joy and despair

rising up, away from the earth, into the clouds.

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-The Birthday Massacre, Divide

CHAPTER

ONE

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Laney stood up over Frankie and Makin, tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.  I can’t believe you guys just left Marcus in there.  He could’ve come out with me.  We were waiting at the grate entrance.  Instead of leaving, he decided to go back and help you and you just left him in there! 

Us?  Frankie barked back.  She popped up and went directly into Laney’s face.  You were out here.  You’re the one that left him.  He was already dead when we got to him.

They stood, staring at each other, both realizing their close friend was truly dead. 

Guys, stop.  Makin stepped up beside them, placing an arm between the two girls. 

They ignored him, still staring each other down.  After several seconds, Laney burst into an uncontrollable sob.  She pushed through Frankie and ran back towards the sewage entrance.

Laney!  Makin called out.

Let her go.  She’s worthless, Frankie said, her own tears swelling.

Laney stopped just short of the dark passage.  She squinted into the black, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her.  She swore that there were movements within the dark.  Shapes appeared to be swaying and darting in erratic gestures.  Frankie and Makin watched her hesitate and then stumble backwards, falling to the ground.  A gasp of fear and shock escaped her mouth as she began crawling away, scratching at the dirt and leaves for additional purchase. 

Zombies, Makin spoke.

The moonlight pierced through the trees, shining on the sewage passage like a stage, illuminating the undead as they flowed out of the dark and into the spotlight.  Legs stammered, rotten and failing; their arms stretching, clawing for consumable flesh.  But this was a different kind of zombie.  This wasn’t just the normal human undead.  This was a mixture of humans and creatures of the fantastical.  Dead fey marched side-by-side with dead men.

Laney scrambled to her feet, just in time, barely avoiding a grasping goblin hand.  The head of the goblin was in pieces, chewed upon just minutes earlier by the undead around it.  The results of a never-ending cycle of the living falling prey to the zombies and then reviving as a zombie themselves.  She ran back to Makin and Frankie, sliding behind them for protection.

Th-They’re everywhere!

Queen Istil of the Seelie Court raised her knotty, wooden staff and pointed it at the barrage of zombies pouring from the sewer.  Take care of this mess, before too many get out.

The four Hollowmen reapers that flanked her sides stepped forward.  They prepared their scythes for combat, holding them up like war weapons.  The first two reached the parade of undead and lashed out, slicing in downward motions that hacked the rotting things into two separate pieces.  Each side of the zombies crumbled to the ground, lifeless.  The scythes held enormous blades, razor-sharp and effective in one swing, but the sheer number of undead that leaked from the passage quickly overwhelmed the reapers.  It got to the point that each reaper was trying to cut down two-to-three zombies with every chop.

After several minutes of bloody hacks, the reapers began to push back against the flood, purposely cutting them down at the entrance in order to block up the passage with body parts.  Two reapers would slice the zombies apart while the other two stacked them like a barrier.  The blockade seemed to work, but it was clear by the immediate bulging of the pieces that it would not hold for long.

We should leave now, or we may be here all night, the queen spoke.  She turned in a tight spin and began walking through the densest and darkest area of the forest.

Makin and Frankie followed after, watching the glitter in her reflective hair dim as she moved from the moonlight to the night shadows.  Laney hesitated, still yearning to find Marcus, even if that meant a zombie version of him.  She knew there would be no way through the passage now; she would have to let him go and move on.  She began to walk behind the others, defeat obvious in the motions of her footsteps.  The four Hollowmen fell in behind her, floating across the ground like ghosts.

The group pushed through the thickest areas of trees and underbrush, the queen sweeped by, easily stepping among the terrain as if she had spent her entire life in dense woodlands.  Makin, Frankie, and Laney had to fight to keep up with her pace.  They tripped and stomped over low-hanging branches and overgrown bushes.  Several years of dead brush piled up along the forest floor, making each footstep a wavering uncertainty.  Once they were far enough away that the sounds of the grunting and moaning undead were no longer in earshot, the queen navigated them onto a clearer path.

Makin’s mind was bouncing with questions.  He looked to Frankie and said, I need to know more. 

Before she could say a word he was off.

He sped up, moving in step with Queen Istil and took the opportunity to ask her all he could.  You’re Majesty, he began, uncertain of how he should address a fey queen, What was the name you said earlier, Tuthaha?

Tuatha, she corrected.

Yeah, um, I don’t really understand where that is, I mean, I get the underground world of the dead and the above ground world of the living, but the whole faerie worlds and courts thing.  I mean, I‘ve read some but it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s made up sometimes.  He knew he was fumbling through the words, but he wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she was a queen or if it was just her inhuman beauty that was making him so nervous. 

The courts are all around us, both above and below the earth.  There are boundaries that separate them; ever-changing, expanding and contracting, based on those that dwell there at the time and those that wish to overtake them.  The battle between Seelie and Unseelie -light and dark-, is one that has been ongoing for centuries before man ever existed.  Fey are ancient beings, the true creatures of the earth.

Makin stared up, taking it all in.  And Tuatha?  Is that your domain or court or whatever?

The queen smirked.  Makin noted something devious in her expression.  She looked down to him; her eyes were the lightest shade of green he had ever seen.  Mystical green. 

Tuatha, she spoke, is a court of the dark.  The Unseelie elves have held those boundaries relatively the same in that area for quite some time.  This is why it must be you, a being of neutral, both light and dark.

Me?  Light and dark?  What do you mean? he asked.

The question among the fey has always been about the naivety of human beings.  I have been under the impression that it was a pathetic attempt at a cleaver ploy, but maybe your complete lack of awareness is true.  I’m not sure which is the greater embarrassment to your kind.

Makin stayed silent for a moment, not exactly sure what the queen was talking about.  He glanced to the ground, thinking about light and dark, good and evil.  Then he said, I suppose humans are both good and evil.  Is that what you mean?  He looked back at her, watching her perfect, pale complexion of porcelain skin.

Queen Istil laughed, loud and fluttery.  Her cackles echoed off the trees, filling the night with the sudden burst.  When she regained control, her eyes narrowed, peering into his.  You have no association, no alliances.  Not to mention this is your responsibility, as the one who destroyed The Collector.  And now that Erchon has failed to stop you, he will be on his own quest for the flame, I would imagine.  Our time is very limited.

You think the rogue elf is going after the blue flame too?  As soon as the question left Makin’s mouth he knew the answer.  Of course, he was, he basically told them that at the masquerade.  Makin hated the vicious elf.  He couldn’t help but picture Erchon stomping down on Stevie’s head, crushing his skull.  That was his plan all along, the demon, the pixies, they must have all been told to direct Makin to the masquerade.  The rogue elf was always planning to kill them and take the flame for himself.  It was all making sense now.  But why didn’t he just go after the blue flame before, why did he wait for me to get this close?

The Collector had been ruling the world of the dead for longer than Erchon has been alive.  There were stories of one or two unfortunate creatures trying to gain control of the blue flame, but as you can imagine, they never ended well.  The Collector was a very powerful creature, the queen said.  There was a prophecy that some fey whispered in the night, it was about a human child defeating the Collector, but many of us laughed at such a silly tale.  I believe Erchon was quite shocked to hear that the fable of the human child was real.  I’m sure he wanted to see you, measure you up, before challenging you for the flame.  Of course, he won’t be the only one who will after the flame.  Ruling a court as large as the world of the dead is a very enticing thing to those who seek power.

Frankie was walking just behind them.  She was listening to every word they spoke, putting the pieces together in her head as well.  She spoke up, causing them both to turn to her.  And what are you getting out of this?  Why were you tracking us down?  And more importantly, why are the Hollowmen doing whatever you say? 

Makin looked past her to the four reapers gliding across the forest floor.  Laney stayed just ahead of them, always checking her back whenever she felt they were closing in on her.

The smile returned to Queen Istil’s face.  Her expressions seemed to straddle the line between wicked and innocent, like most of the fey they had encountered.  It was always difficult to trust them.  As Queen of the Seelie court, I have a duty to protect my people.  Not only are they in danger from the wandering human dead recently unleashed upon us, but we cannot take the chance that a new Collector won’t restore things to the way they were before.  If someone like Erchon gains power, it will only be a matter of time before he will attempt to conquer other courts.  Imagine the strength of the dead.  Endless armies.  No living court would be a match for a power-hungry king.  As evil as the previous collector was, he was no conqueror.  We must get you to the flame first.

The answer seemed to satisfy Frankie.  She met Makin’s eyes and they gave each other a look of agreement.  They trusted the Queen, at least more than anyone else they'd met lately.  And even if they didn’t, they both realized this was the only way to close the gateway between the worlds.  They needed her to show them the way to the Skein of Tuatha and the blue flame.

CHAPTER

TWO

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Erchon slipped out of the doorway, hacking his way through the zombies.  He pushed into the hallway beyond the ballroom and ran to his left, down a dark hall lit only by a handful of spaced-out torches.  The ballroom was still in chaos, the undead fed upon fey like they were delicacies.  It was a complete massacre.

Stevie floated through the fey and undead, giving up on avoiding contact.  He never felt completely comfortable in his physical form after his initial death.  It was always like he was just a spirit shelled in the flesh body.  Now that he was back to his ghostly form, he felt a thousand times better.  Beside him, Ophelia, the girl from the carousel, followed.  Marcus was behind them, he was still so used to being a living, solid form that he struggled with the concept of moving through bodies.  They went straight for the doorway and into the hall. 

There he is, Stevie said, he pointed a transparent finger at the back of the rogue elf.

They moved immediately, trying to keep pace with Erchon.  He slipped in and out of the darkness, clearly walking with a purpose.  The elf raced down the narrow, stone hall until he finally stopped at a tall wooden door.  He wrestled with the knob, swinging the door open and stepping inside. 

I figured he’d be leaving, Marcus spoke.  For the first time since becoming a ghost, he realized he no longer had the urge to spit or hock up any of the phlegm that usually bombarded his throat. 

Maybe he’s just getting something before he goes, Ophelia said.

Stevie slowed as he came to the door.  It was partially opened, enough that they could slip through without moving it.  He held up a hand as if to indicate he wanted them to stop.  Ophelia and Marcus stayed back as Stevie leaned his head into the doorway, peeking inside. 

The room was large with high vaulted ceilings.  Wooden beams stretched across the top from the walls up to the peak of the vault.  In the back was an over-sized fireplace, crackling with fiery life, bordered on each side by two black statues of twisting men, sculpted in forever pain.  The walls were adorned in paintings of dying humans.  Bright reds highlighted the individual ways each man was killed.  Most of them were in the vain of a sharp object piercing them in a fatal manner.  Swords and knives were the weapons of choice in the paintings closer to the front of the room.  Stevie scanned the walls, jumping from painting to painting and watched the weapons increase in both size and savagery. 

In the center of the room was a large four-poster bed covered in white sheets and animal furs.  Just in front of the bed was a chest of wood and steel, Erchon was there, digging into its contents.  Stevie tried to angle his neck in a way that he could see what the elf was searching for.

Ophelia tapped Stevie on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from the room and back towards the hall.  I learned pretty early on that we can control our transparency.  It’s how I was able to track you and your friends for so long without anyone knowing I was there.  She smiled and flicked her eyebrows up twice before disappearing.

Whoa, Marcus blurted.

Try it, Ophelia spoke.  The words came from nowhere.  Concentrate on the idea of being invisible.  It’s actually really easy.

Stevie and Marcus exchanged glances and then closed their eyes.  They thought about being see-through, disappearing into thin air. 

Marcus opened his eyes first.  I can’t believe that worked.  I can’t see either of you, I can’t even see me!

Stevie opened his eyes and saw the empty hall.  He looked down where his feet and legs should have been but there was nothing there.  This is pretty amazing, he said.

I told you.

How did you figure it out?

I just closed my eyes and wished it.  The soldiers in the woods were the first ones that I realized couldn’t see me.

Stevie turned back to the door.  The elf was still digging through the chest.  Come on, Stevie said, gliding into the room. 

The others came right after, all of them sticking to the darkened shadows along the stone wall.  They stopped when there was movement from across the room.  Stepping up out of a chair that was facing the fire was a short, stout brownie.  He was dressed in formal attire, holding a watch that linked back to a vest pocket by a tiny golden chain.  His face was blemished and dimpled and his eyes squinted through circular spectacles with wire frames.  For a fey, he looked incredibly old.

The brownie sniffed the