Host of Sheets (shyan)

Chp 16. End

 It was colder than Ryan remembered.

They took careful steps around rivulets of muddy water, silt clinging to the treads of their boots. He kept a tight grip on his flashlight in one hand, Shane's hand in the other as he tried to keep up- Shane walked fast.

The entrance was dotted with jagged rocks, sharp with twisted metal and barbed wire, and Ryan knew Shane wasn't just going to let him attempt this exorcism without a fight. So he took a few steps into the mine, shuddering at the too-familiar sound of swinging chains and running water.

"So just how does this work?" Ryan asked, his voice echoing down the mineshaft- it was way too loud for his comfort, and he immediately softened his tone. "You just call for Lassie and they come a' runnin'?"

Ryan was about to see a ghost for the first time, but he found he was having some trouble dredging up any excitement. Or anything but dread, really.

Shane smiled, squeezing his hand once.

"Something like that. They're waiting for us, deeper inside. By the altar."

Shane gestured and all the half-broken lanterns hanging haphazardly from the ceiling began to glow with a faint blue light, throwing violet shadows over the rocks and timber frames. Ryan gripped his flashlight tighter.

They were headed for the altar, that small room where everything began. Ryan knew they still had a few minutes of walking left. He tensed, all too aware of Shane beside him. Now. This was the time. The only chance he'd probably get.

Or, he thought it was, until Shane suddenly stopped a few steps in.

Just beyond him, Ryan could see that the crack in the marble floor, the one that Shane had broken through. Now, it extended so much further, crumbling down the walls of the altar room and opening it up to the main shaft, searing along the floor in one deep, jagged gash, long and immense and dark before them.

They stood side by side at the edge of the gulf, and Shane cocked his head.

"Huh."

Ryan didn't say anything at all, staring down into the depths. He couldn't even begin to see the bottom of it, but somewhere deep down below he could still hear water running. He'd always had a fear of heights-- and though he hadn't climbed anywhere, the heights had come to him, perched on a precipice bigger than his imagination, and it made him dizzy.

Ryan took a jerky step backwards, shaking his head, "Shane, I-"

He was still holding Shane's hand, but it was quickly becoming too sweaty for comfort, clammy and cold. He pulled his hand away to wipe it on his shirt, backing up away from the edge until he could barely see the emptiness beyond it.

"Shane, wait."

Shane let Ryan pull back, turning to stroll casually after him. The cliff now at his back, he slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, Ryan, are you wussing out on me already? It's too late, you know. You can't back out now."

Ryan glanced down, trying to look appropriately shamed instead of just plain terrified. He sunk a little in the silt as he shifted from foot to foot, water just enough to get his boots wet.

"No, I'm- just step back from the cliff, alright? You know I fuckin' hate heights, man."

Shane took another step forward towards him obediently with a soft smile.

"What, you're warning me away from the edge? ...Not thinking of shoving me over it?"

Shane did a little dance that ended with a flourish, mimicking pinwheeling back. Ryan reached out to grab his wrist with a scowl, pulling him back a few feet further to safety. Shane's eyelids went to half-mast, smile slow and satisfied.