Free Juniper Berry by M. P. Kozlowsky Page B

Juniper whispered. “It’s Greek mythology, I think.”
    â€œWhat’s this?” Giles asked, pointing to another door on which a sheep was tethered to six balloons, floating through the sky. Something dripped from its body, falling like rain to form a lake in which a hooded man stood rowing a small boat. There was another series of Roman numerals and symbols written in the lake, the identical markings from the previous door and, again, matching her father’s writing.
    â€œI don’t know. Let’s see what’s inside. Open it up.”
    Giles pushed against the door, his feet sliding backward in his tremendous effort, but it only budged slightly. “I can’t,” he said. “It’s heavy.”
    Juniper stepped in front of him and put all her weight forward. After much strain, the door began to give. Giles looked away, embarrassed. The bottom of the door rubbed against the ground, adding much resistance, and Juniper had to pause to gather more strength. Staring at the opening, she wondered how long it had been since the door had last been opened.
    From inside, something began to move closer, something that scraped across the floor at a torturously slow pace. Juniper and Giles were frozen in fear. As the noise grew louder, the grating sound stood their hair on end. Then, pushed through the opening, came a bowl, empty except for a small amount of brown water. A long wooden stick shoved it a few inches farther and Juniper noticed that something was dangling from the middle of the pole. It was tied with string and was no more than two inches in length but seemed to be moving, swaying. It appeared to be in the shape of a person. Could that be right? She reached out, but the stick was pulled away, leaving the bowl in the opening.
    Juniper and Giles exchanged curious, frightful glances. Then they heard the noises coming from within.
    There was a gurgling sound and a wet slap, as if someone were tossing a bucket of slime against a wall. It repeated in a timely fashion. But there was an even worse sound mixed in among this. It sounded like the voice of a very old man croaking his final breaths: “Salhack . . . Salhack . . . Jup nen skek. Salhack . . .” Then, worst of all, was the hiss. “Pleeeeeaaaasssee . . .”
    Juniper went to push the door open even farther, and at that moment a blinding light blazed from inside. “What is it?” Giles asked, shielding his eyes. “What’s in there?”
    Before Juniper could answer, before she could even peer through the glare, the raven screeched past them. It flew into the room shrieking and rasping, causing a great and puzzling commotion. There were more indecipherable words, a scream, agony. The raven flew back out and pecked at Juniper and Giles until they returned to the middle of the hall. The door closed on its own.
    Seemingly irritated, the raven flew down the hall, then back again. It repeated this several times until Juniper and Giles followed obediently. It was clear they wouldn’t be able to conduct any further investigations, for the raven was intent on leading them somewhere.
    Following their winged escort, Juniper and Giles approached a cavern of sorts. The torches were fading behind them, along with the six doors, and a new light burned softly in the coming room.
    A voice emanated from within. The coldest, most peculiar and frightening voice they had ever heard.
    â€œYou have found me.”

Chapter 8
    A PART FROM A LONG TABLE at which sat the shrouded figure with the wicked voice, the room was a barren chamber lit by two torches. The ceiling dripped what Juniper assumed to be rainwater, and shadows upon the walls shifted and danced in the flickering primal glow. Every now and then she could swear they formed images—dark, disturbing images that lasted just long enough for her to question if she even saw them at all. She couldn’t help but feel that the