The wolf's whereabouts were unknown, and after Jack’s encounter with the mysterious woman, they decided that confronting whatever was in the fortress was the best plan. Jack wasn’t convinced, but he could see that Kleo had a bone to pick.

  Reconnaissance was the initial plan. Get whatever information they could and then decide if, to use Kleo’s words, the bitch got cold-cocked or if they would retreat to fight another day.

  Having slipped in through an open portico and stumbled upon a passageway, they approached what appeared to be doors to the main chamber. Music drifted into the hallway—eerie yet upbeat, a chaotic symphony of discordant violin notes. They exchanged a glance, and Jack shrugged his expression equal parts curiosity and apprehension. Peeking from opposite sides of the open doorway, they struggled to understand what they saw.

  At the far end of the chamber, the sorceress floated mid-air, her white dress and black veil twisting as she spun and twirled to the frenzied rhythm. Beneath her, a circle of rats in miniature formal attire danced in unison. Left, right, spin. They followed the erratic tempo with precision, their tiny feet tapping against the stone floor. As the violin reached a feverish crescendo, the rats broke formation, spinning their partners wildly before collapsing back into place. The sorceress laughed with mad abandon and threw her arms wide as the music reached a screeching climax and ended with a jarring note of finality.

  The rats bowed in perfect sync. The witch clapped with unrestrained glee, her thin fingers snapping together like dry twigs. Then, the rats squeaked and cheered, throwing black roses into the air.

  Jack turned to Kleo, his eyebrows raised in mock appreciation. He mouthed; pretty good, right? Kleo rolled her eyes and blended into the shadows, joining him on his side of the door.

  “Well, I liked it,” Jack whispered, earning a sharp jab to the arm. He mouthed Ow, feigning indignation.

  “Focus, Jack,” Kleo hissed. “I need you to distract her. I’ll… figure something out.”

  “Oh, great plan,” Jack said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’ll waltz in and hope she doesn’t kill me on the spot. Or is that the distraction you’re looking for?”

  “Just do what you do best, cheater” Then, Kleo gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling through the doorway.

  Jack managed to catch himself before falling, landing inside the chamber. He straightened up, brushing himself off as every single creature in the room turned to stare. Their faces were blank.

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  “Oh, uh, hello again!” Jack said, his voice was bright but nervous.

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt the festivities. I was just wondering… could someone point me to the restroom? Been holding it for ages.”

  He grabbed his crotch and hopped from foot to foot for emphasis.

  The witch’s grin stretched across her face, wide and toothy. She raised her bony hands, lowering them in a swift motion. The room plunged into darkness.

  Jack’s heart raced, his breath hitching in his throat. The sudden silence was oppressive, and the hair on his arms stood on end. Then, with a loud hiss, the torches along the walls reignited, casting an eerie white glow over the room.

  Jack’s jaw dropped at the transformation.

  At the front of the room stood an altar draped in crimson and black flowers, their absence of color so vivid they seemed painted into the scene. A crimson carpet stretched from Jack’s feet to the altar. The rug was flanked by rows of pews, with the rats sitting on his left. Each dressed in a tiny suit or dress, each outfit accented with a boutonniere or corsage. They turned their beady eyes to Jack, unblinking.

  “Uhh…” Jack managed, his brain struggling to process the absurdity before him.

  At the altar, the witch stood regally, her veil fluttering as if caught in a phantom breeze. Beside her stood a goblin bridesmaid, her thin strands of hair slicked back over her mottled scalp. The goblin’s crimson dress was buttoned tightly, and she clutched a bouquet of pale flowers with trembling hands, her wide eyes scanning the room for an escape route.

  A puff of smoke rose from the center of the altar, and a small goat-like devil materialized with it. The creature adjusted a monocle over its right eye, then hefted an ancient tome, clearing its throat with two sharp coughs. The rats fell silent, snapping their heads forward as if waiting for the ceremony to begin.

  The goat-devil minister creature peered down the crimson carpet toward Jack and snapped his fingers. A goblin attendant appeared from thing air, standing in front of Jack. It gave a slight bow before making its way past. Jack nodded politely in return, unsure of what else to do.

  The goblin stopped at the doorway, addressing the shadows where Kleo lingered.

  “Madam,” he said with a low bow, “Bride or Groom?”

  Kleo’s incredulous voice burst from the darkness. “Oh, hell no.”

  “Groom,” the goat-devil rasped from the altar, his voice thin and reedy.

  Without warning, an unseen force yanked Kleo forward, gagged and bound, dragged down the aisle and unceremoniously deposited in the front row of the groom’s side. She thrashed against her restraints, her muffled protests audible but unintelligible.

  Jack, frozen in shock, stared at her not sure what to do.

  The witch extended a skeletal hand toward Jack, her voice an unnerving cacophony as she crooned, “Darling.”

  What the fuck? What the fuck?

  Get ahold of yourself. Play along. Get close. Figure something out.

  Jack straightened his jacket and began a deliberate walk down the aisle, his face a careful mask of calm.

  Think, Jack, he told himself. Kleo’s counting on you.