Crimson sally's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

The red path ended at the counting house. Sally slowed on the last stretch of glowing road. The door was iron. Thick bars crossed it. A heavy lock held it shut. Sally could smell the forger inside, sour with fear, but the door did not care about hunger. Sally lowered the horn and drove it hard into the wood. The horn bit and stuck. The bars held. The door did not move. Sally pulled free and struck again. Splinters flew. The lock stayed whole. Behind Sally, the eggplant clung tight to the peach shell. "He knows you came," it whispered. "He will not open." Careful bob skipped up beside the door. He hummed a bright tune. He wanted to watch Sally fail. Sally remembered how he had smiled in the den and held back what he knew. He liked the waiting. "Bars keep out the horn," Sally said. "You watched the den. You watched the boss. Do you only watch?" The green man stopped humming. He touched the giant eggplant that hung between his legs, the strange bread he carried there. He grinned wider. "Careful bob knows the back," he sang. "Careful bob knows the little door." He danced along the wall. Sally followed. Behind the building sat a low hatch, half hidden, meant for hauling out waste. A tub of glossy brown filth blocked it, piled high and stinking. The forger had stacked his mess against the only weak way in. Sally shoved the tub aside with a hoof. The filth spilled and slopped across the ground. The hatch was small. Iron still, but thin, rusted at the hinge. Sally set the horn against the rust and pushed with all four legs. The hinge screamed. Then it snapped. The hatch fell inward. Sally forced through the gap, shoulders scraping. The eggplant slipped in after. Inside, the forger stood at a tall desk, papers stacked around him. A thin man with ink on his fingers. He grabbed a wand from the desk, a sleek silver thing carved with strange marks, and pointed it at Sally. His hand shook. "Stay back," he said. "This wipes you out. This ends you." Sally walked forward. The wand only gleamed. Nothing came from it. It was a toy, a pretty thing he had bought to feel safe. The forger saw it too. His face fell. He threw the wand and ran for the barred front door. His fingers fumbled the lock he had built too well. Sally caught him there. The eggplant lifted its torn leaves. "He signed the papers," it said. "He starved them." Sally struck. The forger fell. Sally ate. The blood ran warm. When Sally lifted the horn, the forged wage books lay open on the floor. Names filled the pages. One name at the bottom, signed again and again, belonged to someone Sally had not yet hunted.