Chapter 32: Unnatural Dealings
“Why did everyone run away?” asked Phantasia.
“I think,” said Dante, making moves towards the entrance, “The reanimated dead might have something to do with it?”
Phantasia raised an eyebrow. “The ‘reanimated dead’? What’re you talking about?”
Dante pointed towards the shambling figure staggering its way down the stairs towards them, hand clasped tight on the railing as one foot struggled in follow the other in coherent movement.
Reanimated dead? It still didn’t make much sense.
“What’s so dead about him?” she asked, “He’s just inebriated.”
Dante stopped his subtle escape. “Inebriated? You mean they’re not zombies, they’re just wasted?”
Phantasia nodded. It was a fair assumption, at least. The odd figures were human – there was no doubt about that – and their behaviour reminded Phantasia of the revellers in the World’s End nightclub. There were odd inconsistencies in the auras of those on drugs – subtle enough that Phantasia had to focus to detect them – but it was the clumsy gait and distant expressions that gave them away.
“Figures,” said Dante and breathed a sigh of relief, “I was worried for a moment. Though all those stories about monsters and demons were gonna be real…”
The drugged figures were starting to congregate at the top of the stairs, and several more were beginning to shuffle their way down. Dante was inching his way back towards the entrance again, so Phantasia grabbed his hand and dragged him towards a side door.
“Let’s see who gets to the ghost first!” she said before he could protest. He untangled his hand from hers as soon as he could, but continued to follow as she twisted her way through darkened rooms and corridors. The mansion was filled with life, from colonies of insects and vermin – many of them mutated to some degree – to moss and mildew covering the walls like a natural paint. As they delved deeper they passed through a room that looked like homeless squatters had once used it. Stained mattresses carpeted the floor and odd things had been scrawled on the wall, leaving a psychic impression of despair that stung Phantasia as she passed by.
She stopped in the remains of a kitchen, which had been torn apart by invading trees from the neighbouring forest. One in particular had grown through the tiled floor and thrown aside cabinets with its roots while its dark trunk had bludgeoned its way through the ceiling.
“I hope the others are okay,” she said as Dante sat down on a root to regain his breath. The corrupted miasma of the mansion made it difficult for her to see clearly, and things weren’t helped by the dark olive titan that ripped its way through the room – even the tree itself had been contaminated by the area’s corruption.
Oblivious to any of this, Dante smirked. It was the first time Phantasia had seen him smile as he usually kept his face hidden from view. “Phoenie’ll be up there shitting herself; Kat will be taking photos of everything; John and Theseus are gonna try explaining it with science; and Andromeda is probably silently psychoanalysing the whole situation. Always the same story. I’m starting to think they just do it for the fun of it now,”
“You think they’d come all the way out here for fun?”
