"Can't leave. Well, I could, but I avoided that particular fate." He shuddered. "The red birds. You know of them?"
"Melltithiwyd."
"Gesundheit." He smiled. "If that's what they're called, I'll stick with calling them red birds."
"You escaped them? Does that mean you were supposed to be taken by them?"
"Everyone is, if they're brought down here. Along with everyone who comes down here voluntarily." He nodded at the young man's corpse. "My job is to warn them. My self-appointed task. Most, sadly, paid me no heed. When you're mad, it's hard to put much stake in the words of a ghost telling you to run for your life. One hears such things too often to be taken seriously. Some, though, had a chance. Like him. But he wouldn't listen. Couldn't seem to hear me, which is a shame, because he came here quite determined to see ghosts. I glimpsed his journal there. He followed some tale about this place. Perhaps a story told by someone I did save? He came quite prepared against the darkness. But not against the darkness, if you know what I mean."
"Candles don't hold off that darkness. Not for long."
"I really did hope to save him. I even wrote on the wall for him, and he could see that and became quite excited. Started taking pictures with his device." The ghost sighed. "Mortal terror would have been so much more helpful."
"You said others were brought down here?"
"Food for the darkness. Souls for the...slooy-ah, is it? I heard some say that word, before they died. A couple of the old ones, talking in their old language."
I nodded. "The sluagh. You were food for the sluagh that lived here."
"For their bird things. We fed the birds and then became them--the others did, at least. Not quite certain how I escaped, but I'm grateful for it. One might argue that I deserved such a fate. I would disagree. Wasn't in my right mind. Murder is a mortal sin, but when your child is..." He shook his head. "I went too far in my vengeance. I know that. Something snapped in my head, and I am certain I will pay the price with my immortal soul, but for whatever reason, I did not pay it by becoming one of them."
"Were the other victims all like you? Here for some crime?"
"There for some crime." He pointed above, at the hospital. "And then here for it." He pointed into the room. "Spirited down to await the devouring darkness. Which is not why you're here at all, though, is it?"
"Why am I here?"
He chuckled again. "I'm hoping that's another of your tests, and you know the answer. They want you. They've been waiting for you. They need you. I don't know why. The trick, I presume, is not to give them what they want and, with that, to free me and the tormented souls in their flock." He peered at me. "That is your plan, correct? You don't wish to join them?"
"I'm not really for jumping on the bandwagon of evil. It's never as much fun as it seems."
He grinned. "Excellent. I would agree, which is perhaps why I managed to abstain. You'll defeat them, then?"
"I'm guessing if I ask for tips, I'll only get a hearty good luck and fare thee well?"
"Oh, no. I've been here a very long time. I cannot physically help you. But I have made observations that could come in handy."
"Thank you."
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I got what I could from the ghost, and then Brenin tried leaping back up through the hole, and I had no idea what the ghost saw, but it made him laugh.
"You'll want to go that way." He pointed with his mutilated finger and then quickly switched to the other hand with a murmured apology. "That's the way I sent them. Tried to, at least. Just push up the boards."
I directed Brenin. We found a large board at the base, hanging by one nail. When Brenin nosed it up, it left a space barely big enough for me to squeeze through, but the hound managed it, wriggling.
"It'll close behind you," the ghost said. "Quite clever, if I do say so myself. I convinced one of the unfortunate souls that God wanted him to pry that off. Couldn't convince him that God actually wanted him to escape. The mad are quite difficult to reason with."
His sigh fluttered behind us as the board swung shut. "Good luck, and fare thee well. Though, I hope you realize, they mean the same thing. But I suppose an extra dose of good wishes can't hurt. Particularly under the circumstances."
--
The ghost's secret escape route was some kind of tunnel. I had no idea what it'd been used for, though the underlying smell suggested sewage. It was dry now, and Brenin was able to creep along until it joined a larger passage, allowing him to do an odd waddle-crawl, his occasional huffs suggesting he wasn't convinced this was the way out.
You didn't see another route, did you? I said.
He huffed again.