The Night Parade (13 page)

Myrmeen heard the squeal before her grow more intense, and she redirected her gaze to the corridor. The flying creature was almost upon her. By the dull, caressing glow from the next apartment, she caught a glimpse of the monster in the light. But before her mind could assimilate what she had seen, the creature was upon her and she was overcome by its hot, sweet breath, which smelled of honey.

She reached for her sword, but by then it was too late. Tiny hands clawed at the exposed flesh of her face as Myrmeen felt a strong hand dig into the meat of her upper arm. There was a sharp tug, and she was dragged out of the monster’s path. Myrmeen fell into her childhood home as the creature flitted past and disappeared from sight.

Looking up, Myrmeen saw Krystin, then noticed that there was more light in the dwelling. Apparently, at the first sign of trouble, Krystin had run to the window and had been trying to pry loose the boards that covered it in a haphazard fashion. Gaps had been left between the wooden planks, allowing streaks of light to show through and illuminate the dwelling without revealing its secrets to the world. Krystin had been successful in removing one wooden board and a second seemed ready to give.

“This is one of their lairs!” Krystin screamed. “You idiot, you led us right to them!”

From the corridor Myrmeen heard the fluttering wings of the creature outside. Before she could react, it appeared in the doorway and hovered for a moment. In that instant, Myrmeen was able to see it fully.

She was surprised by the strange beauty of the monstrosity. It had four clear, colorless wings with the intricate designs one might find on a butterfly’s wings. The creature’s body was black and gold, shaped in segments, with dozens of tiny arms branching off, each with distinctly human hands. She looked up at the creature’s face and saw that it was not the face of a monster at all, but that of a magnificent and beauteous child with red eyes containing black, catlike slits. Its pouting Cupid lips suddenly drew back to reveal sharp, glimmering, carnivorous teeth.

Myrmeen heard a low groan behind her and knew what had captivated the monster’s attention. Although she was unwilling to look away from the creature as she drew her sword and rose to face her adversary, she had caught a glimpse of Burke’s unnaturally twisted body when she had been yanked into the room. He had been facing away from her, his head turned to the wall. His legs were bent at unnatural angles, obviously broken upon impact.

Burke had been one of her first teachers after her actions had gained her the attention, then the assistance, of the Harpers who had helped her to bring her father’s murderer to justice. The cardinal rule that Burke had taught her about proper conduct during a battle was to never allow yourself the luxury of emotion. Step out of yourself, he had told her time and again. If a person close to you falls at your side, you can do nothing for them if you allow feelings to get in the way. Take care of the job at hand.

Myrmeen looked at Krystin’s cold expression and realized that the child, at fourteen, already knew this lesson.

She also heard a soft, wet, flopping sound and knew it was the tentacle. She had seen that it could not reach more than five feet into the main body of the room, and so Burke was safe from it. In morbid fascination, she wondered what the tentacle was attached to and what had spawned the dragonfly-child, as she now thought of the creature.

“Stop dreaming!” Krystin said as she rushed forward and slammed the door shut on the creature’s face. From the corridor, they heard the telltale squeal of the dragonfly-child as it prepared to launch another attack. The door buckled with the impact as the monster slammed into the hard wood then fell to the floor. Its wings beat furiously and its tiny hands reached under the door, trying to gain access. Krystin smashed one of them under the heel of her boot. With a yelp of pain, the creature retreated from the door. Krystin threw the latch and locked the door tight.

“I told you they’re not human,” Krystin said. “Not all of them. Why didn’t you believe me?”

Myrmeen had other matters to think about. “Varina!” she screamed. “Where are you?”

“Trapped,” a muffled voice responded from the next room, through the shattered wall. “Boxed into a corner. It can’t get me and I can’t get out. My husband! Myrmeen, is he alive?”

Krystin ran to the other side of the room and returned to the task of prying loose the boards before the heavy glass window. She knew that their only avenue of escape was to break the glass, leap to the gallery, and lower themselves to the ground, where their mounts waited.

Myrmeen had gone to Burke’s side and had placed her hand on the man’s neck. She felt a cool torrent of relief splash upon her as she registered a weak but steady pulse.

“He’s alive!” she screamed. “But he’s going to need help. I don’t know if we can move him.”

“We have to get out of here,” Varina screamed. “Where are the others?”

“I don’t know,” Myrmeen said as she left Burke’s side and gradually angled herself so that she could see into the room where Varina was trapped.

“Myrmeen, come on!” Krystin shouted impatiently. The girl was struggling with the boards and desperately needed help. She did not turn when she heard the sound of absolute disgust that rose from Myrmeen; Krystin had already looked into the next room and learned its secrets.

“What are you?” Myrmeen whispered, entranced by the sight of the grotesquerie in the next room. Then she corrected herself, as ‘what aren’t you,’ would have been a more appropriate question.

The creature’s body resembled a gluttonous, red-and purple-veined flower. Its quivering layers of flesh pulsated with clear sacs containing shiny black pearls the size of a man’s fist. A half dozen tentacles rose from its base like the limbs of a starfish. At the core of the monster, surrounded by the obscenely pulsating pedals of flesh, was a wormlike, gelatinous trunk from which long, thin stalks protruded. At the end of each tiny stalk sat a human head. Some appeared to be alive, their eyes darting back and forth with madness and fear, their mouths working in silent screams. There were close to a dozen heads in all. Not all were alive. The necks of those who were dead seemed to be shrinking, as if the lifeless heads would be ground into the sickening mass of the creature, where the bones of humans were clearly visible. A shattered vertebrae poked out of its mass.

Myrmeen felt as she were going to be sick and forced down the mounting bile in her throat.

“Save my husband,” Varina called from her unseen niche in the room. “I’ll get away from this thing.”

Myrmeen turned from the hole in the wall and looked to her daughter.

“I’ve seen worse,” Krystin said as she finally managed to pry the board loose. The next one did not appear to be as firmly mounted. Myrmeen ran to her side and slid her sword under two of the boards, using her leverage to yank them loose. They pulled the boards free and exposed a section of window large enough for Krystin to fit through, once the glass was shattered. Suddenly, the squeal of the dragonfly-child rose in the distance. It was not alone.

Myrmeen heard Varina scream again, the sound coupled with the flapping of wings. She turned to see four identical dragonfly-children sail into the room, the wingspan of each close to four feet.

From the other side of the glass window before Krystin, two figures suddenly appeared. The girl slammed at the glass as she shouted, “Myrmeen, Reisz and Ord are right outside!”

As if the creatures had understood Krystin’s words, or were instead drawn by the sound of her screams, the group of dragonfly-children heightened their own squeals and dived straight at the tall brunette and her thin, hard-muscled daughter. Without hesitation, Krystin dove out of the way, rolling on the floor until she was within reach of the tentacle from the other room. Realizing the danger, Krystin rolled again as the heavy limb slapped the floor where she had been. Myrmeen raised her sword to fight, then realized how quickly her flesh could be ripped from her bones by the creatures’ talons, which were less similar to human hands than she first had believed. She followed her daughter’s lead and dove to the ground, rolling until she was halfway across the room. Then she bounded to her feet, her sword raised before her.

Krystin was at the door, her trembling fingers about to turn the lock when an inhuman hand punched through the door from the other side, causing her to cry out and stumble back. The hand had a large, flat thumb and two fingers each the size of a pair of human fingers fused together. The muscle covering the hand looked as if it had been stripped of flesh. Krystin fell to the floor, scrambling away from the hand, and shouted when her back touched Myrmeen’s sturdy legs. She grabbed Myrmeen’s waist and pulled herself to her feet.

Myrmeen was immobile, standing with her sword held out from her body to one side, in a traditional stance of readiness taught to her by Burke. The dragonfly-children congregated by the window, holding their position. They had cut off Myrmeen and Krystin from their only avenue of escape and waited to prey upon their rescuers. The Harpers beat at the heavy glass from the outside, shattering parts of it with the hilts of their swords. Ord tried to reach inside to punch away a sliver of glass, and one of the dragonfly-children darted at his hand, its teeth fastening on his palm. The young man screamed, and Reisz’s sword was thrust through the window, into the gold-and-black body of the creature, which writhed on the sword blade, then reached down and shattered the steel with its many hands. The broken shaft of metal was still in its bloated body as the creature flitted into Myrmeen’s room. It proceeded to wail and throw itself against every wall in agony before it fell silent in death.

Suddenly Krystin heard noise at the door. She turned to see the red arm of their new assailant as it reached through the hole it had made and tried to unlock the door. Krystin had been allowed to keep one of Myrmeen’s knives. She drew the weapon and threw it at the arm. The blade sank deep into its flesh. The creature that owned the arm did not flinch; at least, the arm did not. With a sharp click, the door was unlocked. Krystin gasped as the arm retreated through the hole it had made. The door swung open, and she saw the creature, who had the lower body of a slug and the torso of a man. Its head was graced with wildly protruding jaws, which chattered as a thin, long tongue darted around in its mouth.

“Krystin,” Myrmeen said, her voice laced with fear, “there’s something you have to know about me—”

A sharp hiss came from beside Myrmeen. She leapt back in surprise as she saw Lucius Cardoc fade into existence at her side. “May I assume that this is one of those times that interference will not insult you?” Lucius asked.

“You know it,” Myrmeen said.

“I thought as much.” Lucius turned, whispered a phrase, and aimed his hands at the torso of the red-skinned creature. The monster slid across the floor with considerable speed. A thunderclap that was deafening in the confines of the small room accompanied the release of the mage’s spell. Myrmeen barely heard the sizzle and the crack as a burst of reddish blue light erupted from the mage’s hands and struck the wormlike man. The creature did not have time to scream as the arcane fires ripped it to pieces. Sections of its body left dents and cracks in the wall as they hit. The eruption of gore and blood splattered the Harpers.

“That’s really disgusting,” Krystin said.

“I will keep your criticism in mind,” Lucius said as he turned to the window, where the dragonfly-children squealed and hurled themselves in the mage’s direction.

“Reisz, Ord, jump clear, now!” Myrmeen screamed. The Harpers leapt, and Lucius released a second burst of energy that incinerated two of the dragonfly-children immediately and went on to collapse most of the far wall, sending debris spurting into the courtyard beyond.

“Run!” Cardoc said. “I’ll free Varina and levitate Burke to the ground. Ready our mounts. There are bound to be more of these creatures!”

Myrmeen chose not to argue with him. She grabbed Krystin’s hand and started for the collapsed section of wall. Teetering, Lucius placed his hand on his head, the drain of the spells he had used finally catching up with him. The final dragonfly-child circled the room and headed directly for him. Myrmeen released her daughter’s hand, raised her sword, and took three steps in the direction of the mage when the roof suddenly collapsed upon them. Heavy wooden beams smashed to the floor, one of them striking Lucius on the back, knocking him to the ground. Myrmeen raised her hand to her face and looked away as a rain of dust and splinters fell upon her, along with chunks of wooden struts. She was vaguely aware that something else had fallen with the ceiling. A sound had come, separate from the others, the sound of heavy boots striking the carpeted floor.

The sounds had come from either side of her. Myrmeen’s vision cleared and she saw a man who was not human standing several feet before her. The creature winked and smiled. She could only see the other man from the periphery of her vision, but she felt him touch her shoulder. His hand glowed and a vibrating current ran through her arm.

“Krystin, run!” she screamed as she spun and described an arc with her blade that caught the closest of the two men off guard, grazing the side of his head and sending him back, staggering, with his hand to his bloody scalp. She had no idea what had happened to her daughter. With a prayer that the girl was not buried beneath the rubble from the ceiling, Myrmeen looked at the face of the remaining member of the Night Parade. Its face was incredibly pale, with skin as withered as ancient parchment. It had a long, hooked nose and soft blue eyes. Ducking beneath her blade, the creature touched the floor, which instantly transmuted into liquid.

Myrmeen shouted as the floor gave out and she found herself falling into the darkened chamber below, along with everything else that had been in her childhood home. The impact when she struck bottom knocked the wind from her and she fell on something that bruised her ribs. Her free arm twisted behind her back and she felt a tearing in her shoulder, along with a sudden stab of red-hot liquid. Debris crashed around her, but somehow she had managed to hold onto her sword. She used the weapon as a crutch, digging into the settling wreckage, using its strength to help her climb to a kneeling position. Everything surrounding her was soggy. A sheet of harsh white light came in from the collapsed second story wall. The roof itself was still intact; it was the floor of the attic that had been destroyed.