“I’m here in the room,” Punch muttered quickly. “This is where you’re ‘sposed to be. But, it’s all wrong. And, then, that card!” Punch recalled the florid letters—those crimson loops and flourishes—which had spelled out, “Jacket Cheth Engmun.”
Punch jumped as he stumbled into one of the chairs around the imaginary table. “Jack Ketch the Hangman. Jack Ketch the Hangman. Jack Ketch.”
Punch’s voice grew hoarse and raspy as he talked, and the itching around his throat became an unrelenting feeling of burning. He rubbed his neck and began to cry. “Hurts, it does.”
On the phantom marble floor, footsteps clacked their way closer to him and he became aware that he was no longer alone in the room. He wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or relieved.
“Master?” Punch sniffed hopefully.
“No.” A deep, mocking voice responded.
“Scaramouche?” Punch asked.
“No.” The voice repeated.
“Jack Ketch?” Punch said softly, his voice quaking.
“Yes.” The voice answered.
“Why’s it dark, Jack?” Punch said, drawing in a deep breath and trying to sound as brave as he could.
“Why not?” Jack Ketch responded.
“Where’s me master?” Punch asked firmly. “Where’s he gone to? What’d you do with him? If you harmed him, Jack Ketch, I’ll…”
“What?” Jack laughed.
“I’ll…”
“Hang?” Ketch taunted Punch.
“No, I won’t.” Punch shouted.
“Liar.” Jack said mockingly.
“You come to hang me, what?” Punch replied defiantly.
“Yes.” Jack’s disembodied voice answered him.
“Here, what for?”
“Sins.” The voice replied.
“I ain’t sinned ‘gainst no one!”
“Liar.” Jack chuckled.
Suddenly, Punch felt a tightening around his neck and began to panic further when he could not draw in breath.
“Now.” Jack’s voice bellowed. “Now.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-280? If so, you can read them here.
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