Hunted|Haunted - Chapter 26 - Repeating multiple previous mistakes, but a bit to the left

With the overwhelming majority of dogmasks now tasked with capturing them, finding Fogdog proved to be impossible. Their problems didn't end there, however.

— There's something wrong with this place
— You don't say? — Nex already regretted listening to the kid, rather than dragging him through the door.
— I've been counting turns, we should've been near the orangery already. Or at least be able to smell it.
— Isn't that because we've been taking back roads because of the masks?
— I counted turns both ways, we should've crossed paths at least twice.
— The place itself isn’t right. — Cogs floated slightly to the left to stop getting stuck in the wall. He grumbled, his usually joyful attitude nowhere to be found. — It’s as if it lost its geometry a very long time ago and is trying to compensate. Probably – likely, – some magic bullshit.

When not even five minutes later Nex had to very much literally pull himself and Toma up what looked like a small, dark attic with no immediately clear purpose to avoid meeting face to face with a couple of cultists, he couldn’t help but grumble under his breath.

— Magic bullshit indeed. I’m too old for this. — He barely fit in this storage-looking compartment, not to mention that he had a small child with unfortunately sharp claws on top of him. It was cramped and they were lucky, that the cultists were in a hurry and didn’t bother to look up.
— Oh, I never saw anyone else have one of these. — Toma whispered.
— Attics?
— Bat bedrooms.

Toma pointed at the suspiciously squirming ceiling. If it wasn’t for needing to hide, Nex would fall back on the street immediately. Instead, he just grimaced beneath his mask and tried not to think of all the grime they were laying in now, probably. Even if, to be fair, it was the least of their worries.

Toma was adorable, but after they climbed out of the attic, Nexa was on his last fucks. This was noticed immediately by Nexa’s officially appointed fuck counting person.

— How about we dress you as one of them? — Cogs was floating around them, watching out for possible threats and occasionally commenting on the situation. — You’d benefit from losing a bit of neon right now.
— That could work… — Nex frowned beneath his mask, thinking. Then looked at Toma. — But what are we going to do with you, kid?
— I know a trick. Look! — Toma took a long, rusty nail from his pocket and grabbed it with both hands. As rust fell off the nail, Toma turned invisible.
— … You could do that all along? — Cogs’s LED mask’s eyes became question marks. Nex simply stared.
— People step on me when I’m invisible, and also adults don’t like it when I’m invisible, and also I can’t do this for very long, and-
— Whatever. — Nexialist came to his senses and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. — Let's go ambush a dog.

Finding a dogmask was about as easy as finding mosquitoes near a pond on a summer night. Fighting one for clothes wasn’t a struggle, either. Almost as if someone had already hit him over the head with a brick, dogmask was sluggish and disoriented.

Cogs hovered above the knocked out dogmask for a few seconds, looking like a junior crime investigator. He looked over the cultist, then at Nex, and, after tilting his head in thought, noted.

— So… Some rumours of Quinese mafia making drugs in the mountains seem to be true.
— He’s high?
— Somewhere on cloud eleven. Looking him in the eyes feels like staring straight into the void.
— Huh. — That got Nex thinking, because he already was feeling withdrawal creeping closer and closer. — How’d he even get himself a dose over here…
— I think it's the monks. — Cogs hummed, clearly distracted by his thoughts. His usually jovial tone was getting grimmer by the second. — That old man did warn us about them. They sure don’t seem like a pious sort. Combined with what we already learned here, I don’t think we should continue looking for our dude. We’ll have a very hard time getting him back to reality.
— Tell that to Toma. Also, the coyote guy and Tove are still missing, or have you forgotten?
— They’re also dead, or have you forgotten? I mean, that they’re dead, and it’s you two who can still potentially die. Also, both of them would end me if I let anything happen to you. That’s not taking that I-dot-Grobar lady into account. — Cogs's silhouette shimmered slightly, shivering like a mirage. His mask made a disgruntled face. — I hate this place more by the second. Makes my nonexistent skin crawl. If we don’t go back to where Harvey is in the next twenty minutes, I’ll get you two out of here by the scruff of your necks faster than you say “hash”.
— You’re a ghost, you can’t do that.
— Try me. — Cogs’s flat tone suggested that he, unusually so, wasn’t joking. — Or even better – don’t.

Nex hated that he agreed with Cogs on this.

Dogmask clothes had a weird, chemical smell to them. Sickly sweet, and made your throat feel oily. The mask was hard to breathe through, but at least it blocked the smell fairly well. Toma got three out of five copper cuffs off with a little switching trick, but the other two either were too dirty to do the trick on, or something else was wrong. Nex didn’t care much. The pants were long enough to hide his ankles anyway, so the cuffs wouldn’t have been visible. The ones for wrists he just slid on, and hoped they wouldn’t fall off. For the one for the neck, Toma again did a switching trick with a bit of string.

“How did Fog even walk with those on?!” — he contemplated. All that, and barefoot on a sandy road full of horrible little sharp rocks, was barely tolerable as is, having to do all that with a bad leg seemed a damn torture. Whatever the dogmasks are on, better be good, otherwise Nex will just take the kid and bail.

Walking around disguised certainly was easier. After these few exhausting days, Nex almost forgot how walking around without the tiniest bit of attention felt like.

The theory with Fogdog being the sole survivor of the massacre seemed more plausible by the minute. With how slowly he had to move around, there was no way he could’ve made it that far into the town. He must’ve been very good at evading pursuit. Well, if we discard the fact that they have no idea what way they are going, and Fogdog does.

Somehow, by trying to find the orangery, they made their way to the side of the temple complex. Now, while Toma was busy trying to shake out a stone from his shoe, Nex was “scanning” the dogmasks loitering by the wall. Before he could take a good look, a couple of monks appeared and put a crate of vials on the ground. Dogmasks immediately rushed to grab at least one, but as it soon turned out, there weren’t enough. Dogmasks started fighting over vials, which was hilarious to the monks, as more of them came to watch. Among the crowd, Nex saw Fog. Nex saw him avoiding punches and grapples of other dogs. He saw him slide his mask to the side, and bite another dogmask, the victim screaming in pain and starting to cough blood. He saw blood dripping from Fog’s mouth as he downed the vial before it could be taken.

He saw the eyes of a snake, pretending to be dead.

— Do you see him?
— …No, I don’t think I do. Just some dogmasks fighting over food, I guess. C’mon, I don’t think hanging out near the temple is a good idea.

The cuffs were just heavy enough that his hands couldn’t shake.
Not that he never saw junkies fighting for a dose, or never saw a witch fight. Their teeth were much more suitable for dealing damage, so it wasn’t rare for someone to get stitches after a bar brawl with a witch.
Yet something in that half a second of eye contact has shaken Nex to a degree he wasn’t aware he was still capable of feeling.

No, fuck this. Money’s good, but whatever this is just isn’t worth it. No money could make up for dealing with a junkie cult, or with I. Grobar’s wrath, or with Neven in general.
No sum was big enough to risk making Toma the same way he was.
Fuck it, he can’t tell anyway. If they go in one direction long enough, they’ll eventually end up on the edge of the town.

Cogs began leading them away from the fighting dogmasks. They even made it a few more turns before Nex noticed they’re being followed. Other dogmask, or dogmasks. None of them looked like Fogdog, but it was hard to tell exactly how many different people were trailing them. And getting away was increasingly difficult, as they were everywhere.

It shouldn't have been surprising that eventually, dogmasks started to pile up and spill out of alleyways, almost cornering them. They all started to flail around and maniacally point at Nex, not making a sound, as a monk appeared. This one seemed to be a bit higher in ranks, as his clothes weren’t as worn, and he wasn’t barefoot.

— What is this ruckus about? – The monk said, before his eyes met Nex’s. — Why aren’t you ashen?

His tone was strict, and his face scornful. As he walked closer, a rattan cane appeared in his hands. Dogmasks cheered on in anticipation by knocking on their masks and banging their cuffs together.

Nex’s mind had gone blank. He didn't know how to respond to this. It didn't seem that what he would say was relevant – the appearance of blunt objects in one’s hands usually indicated the beginning of the fight – and the panic began to creep in, as Nex realised that he and the kid were collectively in as much shit as possible for one witch and one human being.

As his mind raced, eyes darted around the area to find at least some kind of exit, however, something happened. As if he felt an… intervention of some kind. The presence of some sort, that was familiar in an aching way, pushed him from out of the driver seat in his mind. Cogs’s voice sounded determined in a terrifying way.

“Hang in tight, brother, I’m about to do what I promised.”

But Nexa’s stupid mouth, as if having a mind of its own, opened and blurted out a reply to the monk:

— Well, why are you?

The crowd was stunned.

“Well, now you ruined it, didn’t you?”

Wait, what? How was this ruining anything? Why did everyone react as if they had witnessed something straight out of the uncanny valley? The monk’s face, in particular, tried to fit about 7 different expressions in one, making him look like he found half a worm in his apple.

— Impostor! — he shouted.

Before Nex could panic any further, Cogs noted, tensing in Nex’s body, possession of which he now somehow came to:

“Yup. Totally did. These dog mask guys, if you didn’t notice, are not exactly talking.”

The monk raised his cane. Nex mentally flinched, his body already stepping away, as if Cogs was trying to put as much distance between himself and the cane as possible. Dogmasks rushed to surround them, all wanting to have a first seat at the impromptu coliseum reconstruction show.

An ear-drum-shattering clap stopped everyone in their tracks. Some even fell.
The monk’s hand, and the cane it held, were now completely flattened, blown to splinters.

Cogs grinned with Nexa’s smile and shouted – Nex could feel his face muscles stretch, his throat forming sounds, how the, what the-

— Good to see you, Tove!

— I thought I asked you to keep the rest safe, dumbass. — Tove appeared pissed. More so, Tove appeared, casting a shadow.

— It isn’t my fault, the locals thought us their personal entertainment!

— The exit is literally in the opposite direction! I even saw you walking towards it! — Tove grabbed Nex by the hand and confidently trotted past dogmasks and away from the shocked and traumatised monk. As they left the circle, Tove leaned in— And now, push it into high gear.

— Sure. Leaving you, Nex, — Cogs muttered, getting quieter. — I’ll go grab Toma. It’s faster if he’s dragged by.

And with that, he stepped out, and Nexialist was back in his body again. Breathing heavily, heart pounding, but back to himself. And Nexa, being a survivalist above all, immediately, with all the grace of a panicked cat, ran forward.

Grabbing Toma by the collar of his shirt was much easier said than done. It took Cogs two tries to find Toma, and three more to grab the kid, and Cogs still was hissed at, almost bitten, and very much in a rush to leave before the cultists finally caught up with the reality of the impostor escaping. By the time Cogs took off with Toma, running-hovering-floating after Neven, who took a coyote shape once again, he noticed something above that struck him as very odd.

— Hey, is the sky supposed to be green?

However, nobody really heard the question or answered it, and Cogs didn’t really have time to stop to think about answers either, so he filed it for later.

“Later” turned out to be when they finally found a place to hide from the cultists chasing them, at the secluded roof without any real entrance, to which Nex climbed in almost ninja-like fashion, pushing off the walls of a narrow alley. It was, in all honesty, a miracle he didn’t fall during the climb, because both his arms and legs shook from strain and stress. Cogs could relate. Concentrating on carrying Toma, and willing to carry Toma even as the witchen kid very obviously tried to get away by biting, hissing and swiping at him, was a bitch of a task. And all that was while Cogs was a ghost.

The talking took way longer than it could have. Nex had to calm down at least a bit to talk. But after finding Toma nearby and some breathing, he finally managed to tell Tove, who, for the record, was translucent again, and Neven what happened, and why exactly they didn’t stay with Harvey. The Fogdog thing, too – not fully, though. He hid something under the pretence of wheezing for breath. Cogs could tell, when his brother was on his usual bullshit. Still, pressing Nexialist for information that he was unwilling to part with was like trying to convince a millionaire to donate to charity – possible, but with a lot of effort and struggle involved. Cogs knew that it could be important, but considering everything and the state Nex was in, he decided to hope for the best and get ready for the worst.

Tove glanced at Neven, as if expecting him to add to the conversation, but he stayed quiet. Always a liar, always for the greater good.
She didn’t care much. This kind of thing is guaranteed to come back to nuke him in the ass if he doesn’t tell, and, well… Some people really need to be nuked in the ass every once in a while.

— …Okay. — After the explanation, Nexialist seemed tired and… kind of deflated. — With all that out of the way… Let’s head back to Harvey.
— First things first, someone finally riddle me this. — Cogs finally pointed out what he thought was obvious, but didn’t know the answer to. — Why is the sky turning green?
— Either the worst storm you can imagine, or a tornado, but I doubt the latter happens on this latitude. — Neven stated.
— Mum makes bad weather when she’s upset. Nana made some altars, so it doesn’t happen around home, though.

At that, Cogs, Tove, Nex, and Neven looked at each other, sharing a single silent moment of a painful realisation – there was likely no going back without meeting the wrath of a certain I-dot-Grobar.

— Well… — Nexialist looked at the verge of hysteria. — Guys, is the afterlife bad? How does it feel?
— Very wet. — Tove said. — You can fight a dude to exit.
— Void.
— Nex, I don’t think either of us actually went there.
— I don’t think it’ll be long before we all find out, then. — Nexialist smiled a thin, mirthless smile, barely visible behind his disguise and not reflected in his eyes. Then sighed, rubbing his forehead. — Alright. Junkie cult, or angry mum? Tough choice, really… Toma, what’s your opinion?
— I think if we find Fog, and it turns out he knows something, mum won’t be as angry.
— And if not?
— … Mum is scarier, she’ll make me wear a cone.

That made Cogs let out a static laugh.

— I’d rather wear a cone, thanks.

Toma’s expression, however, indicated there were layers to why wearing a cone was significantly worse. Mention of a punishment gave Neven an unpleasant tingling in his ribs.

— … No, Toma has a point. — Nex finally signed in a very “I’m going to regret this” way. Then said. — Not with a cone, maybe. With the fact that this woman is scarier. And, — He finally begrudgingly added. — I think I saw Fogdog while we were running for our lives. And I think he will be able to stop the angry mum – or stall her for long enough that we can escape at the very least.

Cogs knew that Nex still wasn’t telling the whole truth. But he wasn’t about to ask why Nex was confident that Fogdog would help them again.

With the course of action decided, the party went forth once more. It took some time to figure out how to get the still-alive people off the roof, but having more ghosts on the team made avoiding the cultists and scouting the way ahead significantly easier. By the time they finally saw the familiar broken figure of the Fogdog, the sky had turned to almost emerald, and the air grew moist.

But now that all it took to get their answers was walking one street, Nex became uneasy.

— Toma, — He eventually said. — Stay behind me. Or Tove.
— Why?
— …That guy seems sick. — Nex sounded like he had to bite his tongue. — I don’t want you to get close to him. Whatever it is, it might be contagious.
— Mum said you can’t catch bad bones from people. — He huffed.
— Not bad bones. — Nexa’s tone was grim and a bit nervous. — Something worse.
— Like what?
— Like… — Cogs saw Nex lifting his hand, as if wanting to begin to recount. Nex didn’t, though. Probably held himself back with whatever manners he had managed to grow since the last time he lived on the street. — I don’t know, okay? Just… don’t go nearer. — There was a pause, a hesitation, and Nex then added. — Toma, please.
— But why? We were already close to him before, it was fine!

That “please” made Cogs side-eye Nex. Whatever this was, it was serious. Serious enough that it made Nexialist, who spat the Syndicate boss in the face and pushed through life with a grim determination of someone who had nothing to lose, ask, almost beg, even. That was something Nex, with all his stubborn pride, never did lightly.

Tove hugged both ghosts by their necks and pulled them close, almost choking them.

— Okay, dudes. Don’t you think it’s time to exchange your secrets? I’m pretty sure you both know something the rest doesn’t. I happen to be “the rest” on this one. — Tove didn’t get to continue with that, as she heard incoming trouble, and let them go. — Ah, dammit, here we go again. That cage maniac got back up.
— The who?
— Monk with ghost traps. Traps are cages. Don’t touch them. Arm yourself. He got a party with him. Monk can’t be hurt by undead, but he can be hurt.
— Huh. — Cogs rubbed his neck, though more in thought than in pain, then noted. — Well, I’m not against blowing off some steam, especially if it can help. — He then looked at Nexialist and Toma. — Nex, Toma, we’re leaving. Nex is in charge. If we don’t get back, you two – run away without us. Got it?

And, not awaiting the answer of the living, the ghosts ran to the side, drawing attention. At least half of the temple’s inhabitants rushed after them, completely oblivious to the impostor’s presence.

Toma glared at Nex.

— Don’t you fucking dare. — Nex grumbled.

Toma sprinted towards Fogdog.

— Fuck! — Nex hissed and took off after him.

Nex couldn’t tell whether Toma was good at weaselling out, or if his withdrawal got bad enough that he couldn’t catch the little beast. Fogdog, having noticed the kerfuffle, started making his way from the other end of the street. But, since Nex and Toma mostly zigzagged in one place, and Fogdog couldn't run, it was pretty clear that intervention wouldn’t happen soon.

At least Nex thought so at the moment, just before his cheek suddenly began to hurt, and his feet lost traction with the ground.