The Phenomenals: A Game of Ghouls Read Online Free PDF Page A

shining throat. When its mouth closed and the teeth came together, four fangs remained visible, sliding down beside each other so tightly not even a
flea’s leg would have fitted in between.
    The creature stretched like a cat waking after a long slumber, its claws scoring the ground deeply and its broad rump pushing upward. It stood up to its full height on four thick-thighed bristly
legs. It was ill-tempered; it was hungry for sustenance; it wanted to be free.
    Slowly, stiffly, it left the cavern and began its journey towards the surface.

C HAPTER 6
T HE P ROPHECY
    Folly, still pondering her close encounter with the gelatinous Superent, was negotiating her way between the graves and monuments in the Komaterion when the earthquake struck.
The squat, grey Kryptos was already in sight when she became aware that something was up, alerted by the scores of rabbits fleeing their burrows and bounding away, paying her no heed at all.
    At the onset of the tremor Folly crouched low and steadied herself against a tree. This was not something she had experienced before and it took a great deal of self-control to quell the fear
that surged in her veins. She was glad to be in the relative safety of the Komaterion rather than on the narrow marsh path where she could so easily have been tossed into the surrounding sucking
mud pools. Though it might not have been such a bad thing if she had; to be covered in salty marsh mud was marginally better than the slimy Supermundane residue that coated her at present.
    After a long thirty seconds, when terra firma really was terra firma again, with her heart pummelling her ribs, Folly ran to the shelter of the Kryptos porch. From the outside the tomb looked
unscathed by the geological assault, but the door was stiff. She suspected that it had shifted slightly on its hinges. Once inside she leaned against it to close it and finally allowed herself to
relax, glad to breathe in the smell of what she considered home – the lingering aroma of slumgullion – and to hear the hum of the tar-powered Cold Cabinet (which Jonah had lugged from
the Capodel Townhouse).
    Folly glanced at the clock on the mantel – a delightful Ansonia swinger clock with a dainty cherub-like figure (purloined by Vincent, of course) – and realized that she hadn’t
heard the Kronometer ring in the hour. Perhaps the grumbling earth had drowned out its chimes. The others had promised to be back by Mid-Nox. She was annoyed that they were late, but part of her
was glad to have the place to herself. Vincent wasn’t the only one who valued his solitude.
    Keen to clean herself up, Folly struck a firestrike and lit the wall lamps. With a certain degree of trepidation she looked around the chamber. One of the flagstones had split, over by the
casket plinth they used as a table. Somewhat macabrely, Lady Degringolade’s own casket had been shaken from its niche in the wall and now lay on its side on the floor. The lid had broken into
four pieces and her disarticulated skeleton spewed forth in a confusion of bones.
    Folly knelt to replace the bones in the casket and saw out of the corner of her eye that a piece of stone had been dislodged from the wall behind her pillow. She tutted. That was where she kept
Kamptulicon’s stolen Omnia Intum, in the cavity behind the stone. The small book was still there; she took it and put it in her pocket. Now that her hiding place was no longer secure, she
would have to find somewhere better. The other three didn’t know where she kept it, and that was how it should be. A Cunningman’s handbook was a volume that deserved respect. Within its
pages were centuries-old secrets, incantations and rituals of the Supermundane. She was certain that Kamptulicon would come looking for it before too long, and the fewer people who knew its hiding
place the better. Unfortunately, the Kryptos was not designed to conceal secrets.
    Still sticky with the Superent’s goo, Folly put a large pot over the