Tears of the Furies

CHAPTER NINE

A terrible malaise had fallen upon Ceridwen. Her body shivered with weakness and her vision was clouded as though cataracts veiled her eyes. Yet she refused to allow Arthur to see how this transition to the Underworld was affecting her. Faerie was her home, and her relationship with the elements there, with nature, was nearly symbiotic. If her life did not precisely depend on that rapport, her health could certainly be affected by it. Traveling from Faerie to Arthur’s world — the Blight — was not difficult. For millennia, the two realms had been connected, and their natures were not dissimilar, their elemental forces kin to one another, sisters, in a way.

This horrid place was merely a distant cousin, and a withered, sickly, and malevolent cousin at that. Cut off from the elements of the Blight, she was weakened, and though she could feel the elements of this place all around her, they did not welcome her. Nor did she relish their touch. In truth, the moment she had entered the Underworld the flame had snuffed out at the center of the ice sphere atop her staff, and then the ice had begun to melt.

It was good to her now only as a walking stick. Though Arthur had seen that she was unsteady, Ceridwen did her best to put her weight on the staff rather than entirely upon him. He would have danger enough to combat without worrying overmuch about her.

That had been her concern during their initial descent into the Underworld, and the moment she heard Danny Ferrick scream, it became reality. When the demon boy crested the ridge ahead, the look of terror etched on his face forced Ceridwen to summon all of the strength and courage remaining to her.

It was precious little preparation for the sight that confronted her next. The three-headed dog scrabbled up the rocks in pursuit, grunting, eyes glistening crimson in the gloom. The weight of its three heads ought to have thrown off its balance, but its body was wide and built for that burden, and it was agile enough. The hound came to an abrupt halt the moment it saw that its prey was not alone.

"Cerberus," Conan Doyle whispered at her side, obviously in awe of the gigantic beast that now regarded them with three sets of crimson eyes. Other than those few odd flutterings in the cave above them, it was the first real sign of life they’d seen since passing beyond the gates, but judging by the stink that radiated from the hound, she wondered if it was truly alive at all. The great dog reeked of death and decay, and she could see spots where the flesh was missing, exposing stringy sinew and yellow bone.

Danny ran toward Eve. She marched forward to meet him, the bottom of her brown leather coat flapping behind her in a sudden gust of sulfurous air from below.

"Stop running," the vampire snapped.

The demon boy brought himself up short upon her command, moving to her side quickly, though his expression was dubious. "Do you not see the dog?"

"Yeah. And me without a really big newspaper," Eve sneered. "There’s nowhere to run, kid. The only way to live is to win."

They all remained perfectly still, allowing the dog to familiarize itself with their scents. It continued to growl threateningly as each of its heads paused to study them individually. Ceridwen assumed that now that it had more than one target, it was assessing their vulnerability, deciding which of them it would try to catch and eat first.

Then its growl turned to a high-pitched whine and it tensed upon its haunches, its hackles rising as it prepared to attack. She had already noted the fragile wall to the right of the dog, where it crouched on the ridge of steps leading up from the floor of the Underworld. Without a further thought she put her own pain and illness aside and began to call upon the elemental forces. Cut off from the elements of Faerie, or even the Blight, she was forced to tap into the elements of the Underworld.

Ceridwen screamed. Unimaginable pain wracked her body as the ugly nature of that realm fought her, for this was a place of death and it cared not for the requests of the living. Then, abruptly, tainted brackish water spun in a circle around the top of her staff and solidified into ice, and a sickly yellow flame sparked to life within. She cried out once again, her muscles tightening painfully as the connection was made, as the filth and death of the Underworld seeped into her flesh and bone. A putrid orange light crackled around her staff, and then elemental fire surged from the icy sphere atop it and struck at the cave wall.

A portion of the wall shattered and thousands of pounds of stone crashed down onto the ridge… but too late. Cerberus bounded toward them as the rock wall fell harmlessly behind the hound. There was an ancient, empty hunger in its eyes.

Nausea roiled in Ceridwen’s belly as she tried to summon the elements once more, but she was met with painful resistance. She slumped to the ground, sapped of strength, watching helplessly as Conan Doyle lunged forward to meet the giant dog’s attack.

"Heeeyahhhh!" he cried out, advancing toward the beast.

Cerberus paused, crouching low to the ground. But Conan Doyle showed no fear, glaring into its eyes.

"Back off, you damned fool!" Eve shouted, sprinting to his side.

Conan Doyle risked a quick glance toward the vampiress and the dog sensed its opportunity. With a snarl that came not only from each throat but from deep in their shared chest, Cerberus sprang at him. Ceridwen wanted to close her eyes, but she could not look away.

The mage was a man of quiet dignity and propriety, but in battle, he was fearsome indeed. He seemed almost to transform, bracing himself in a warrior’s pose, his right hand burning like the sun. He met the attack head-on and plunged his blazing fist into one of Cerberus’s open mouths. The other two heads cried in agony, but the one assaulted by the magickal fire burned horribly from within, its eyes boiling from their sockets as the flesh and fur of its wide, heavy head burned away to reveal its flaming skull.

Conan Doyle stumbled away from the beast, clutching his wrist and staring at his own smoldering hand in obvious pain. The spell had been a weapon of incredible power, and there was always danger in magick. He had burned himself badly.

But Cerberus was not going to give him time to recover. Its injuries were horrid to see, but the two surviving heads were driven only to greater madness. They frothed at their mouths, a yellow foam that stank worse than the beast itself. Where its body was dessicated and the bone and muscle showed through, fresh blood and pus flowed as it shook in fury. It had been deciding which of them to rend and tear, but now Conan Doyle was its only target.

"Arthur!" Ceridwen cried, damning herself for her weakness even as she summoned the strength to stand. She would be too late.

But Eve was there.

She pushed Conan Doyle out of harm’s way as the remaining two heads, driven to the brink of madness, lunged for him with utter ferocity. One of the still functioning heads snapped its jaws closed on Eve’s shoulder and she roared in pain, baring long fangs. She spun and pummeled its snout, but Cerberus flipped back its head, shaking her like a rag doll. Eve’s flailing feet caught the still smoldering third head and it exploded in a shower of blackened bone and red burning embers.

Danny was right behind her. The demon boy ran at Cerberus and leaped into the air with uncanny strength. He launched himself at the hound and sank his claws into its side. Where its flesh was rotting away, Danny began to tear at Cerberus. Blood and pus drooled out onto its fur as he tore strips of decaying flesh. Then he reached inside and clutched a yellowed rib. The bone snapped off in his hands.

Eve screamed as Cerberus bit down harder on her, shaking her still. Her own blood scattered the ground like scarlet rain.

Ceridwen climbed to her feet, ignoring the creeping numbness that permeated her body. She picked up her staff and stumbled forward. The growling of the dog’s heads and the screaming and cursing from Eve echoed through the cave.

"I can’t risk hitting them," Arthur screamed over the ruckus, his hand again radiating an unearthly light, his body trembling with the effort.

"We’ve only just begun this. We’ll not die now," Ceridwen replied. Mustering all her remaining strength, she brought the heel of her foot down on her staff, breaking the end so it now tapered to a jagged point. She hefted the broken staff and threw it like a javelin with all her strength, willing the wood — the only bit of nature from her own world in this horrid place — to fly true.

The spear pierced the thick muscle of the dog’s chest. The head holding Eve opened its jaws to yelp in pain, flinging her limp and bloody form into a broken heap at the edge of the ridge.

Ceridwen and Conan Doyle ran to Eve, but Cerberus was already on the move, the remains of Ceridwen’s staff protruding from its chest. Conan Doyle sketched a pattern into the air and from it a spiral of blue light erupted, rocketing at Cerberus. Danny still clung to its side, tearing at its flesh, but he was not in the immediate line of fire. The hound was badly injured but it still moved with uncanny speed and dodged that magickal attack, thundering toward them.

"Take her," Conan Doyle ordered, moving between the women and the slavering monstrosity.

Ceridwen grabbed Eve beneath the arms and began to pull her away from the edge. She could hear Conan Doyle’s melodious voice beginning a new incantation when another sound filled the air.

Screaming.

"Enough! That’s just enough of that shit!" Danny Ferrick screamed.

Tearing into Cerberus’s body, he climbed the hound as though to saddle it, then he grappled with one of its heads, gouging at its eyes, scooping one of them out. The hound bucked and threw him forward. Danny landed, rolling, and then rose again. He screamed, shaking as he confronted the dog with such ferocity that it paused and took a step back. Danny seemed to be in the grip of madness.

"I’m not afraid of you!" the boy bellowed, then threw himself at the hound, claws flying, tearing and rending and pummeling its remaining heads, driving the animal back.

"Daniel, be careful!" Ceridwen called out as the boy rammed his new horns into the belly of the beast.

Cerberus reared up on its hind legs, attempting to use its front paws to repel its relentless attacker, but to little avail. Danny drove it back farther and farther until there was no longer any place left for them to go.

And Ceridwen watched in horror as the two tumbled backward over the edge of the ridge, disappearing into the Underworld below.

Tumbling down the rocky cliff, Danny tried to use Cerberus’s disgusting body as a shield, tucking himself close so the putrid, matted fur so that the beast could take the brunt of the damage. They crashed again and again into the cliff and with each jarring impact Danny did his best to twist around to keep Cerberus between himself and the jagged outcroppings of rock. Then their painful journey came to an abrupt end with a whimper from the hound and the splintering of bones inside it. An enormous rib bone shot up through it, nearly impaling Danny, just before the impact sent him sprawling across the ground. He rolled, grunting in pain with each bump, and at last came to rest against the trunk of a gigantic tree.

Danny lay there for a while, looking up into the skeletal branches and strangely shaped leaves that decorated them, until a flow of warm blood into his eyes obscured his vision. With a trembling hand he wiped away the blood, and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

Cerberus was lying in a heap among the rocks across from him. It didn’t look as though the multi-headed dog had been as lucky as Danny.

Serves you right, you piece of shit, he thought, still feeling a trace of the terror he’d felt when he had first unknowingly trod upon the sleeping monstrosity. Danny didn’t like dogs much; ever since his loser father had brought him a dog not too long after his parents had split. It was a mutt from the local animal shelter. All the thing did was bark, poop, and piss all over the house. It hadn’t lived with him and his mother for very long. When he thought of dogs, all he could think of was his father, and how the only thing the prick hadn’t done to his mom was shit and piss all over the house. The bastard had all the bases covered when he’d brought that dog to live with them.

His body felt like one big open wound, damp with his own blood, every movement met with white-hot agony. But Danny figured he’d gotten off lucky. He was surprised that the damage wasn’t worse considering how far he had fallen. He looked at his arms and, for a brief moment, was thankful for the changes he’d been undergoing, as he grew into his true self. Yes, there were scrapes and some bloody gashes, but he was alive, and he was sure he wouldn’t have survived that fall if he’d been a normal teenager.

Danny heard his name being called from someplace far above and gazed up to see the tiny shapes of his companions as they made their way down the cliff toward him. He climbed to his feet, checking out his legs, making sure that nothing had been broken.

"Down here!" he called up to them, hands cupped over his mouth.

Danny could see that Doyle and Ceridwen were helping Eve. He hoped that she was all right. Between the fight with the Hydra and now this, she had been taking quite a beating lately and he wasn’t sure if she was as durable as he was. Ceridwen, at least, seemed a little better. She’d been drag-assing back in the tunnels and he’d thought she was just going to pass out or something.

As the others made their descent, he took the opportunity to look around. It was a cruel place, rocky with strange, skeletal trees rising up out of the gray dirt like the hands of some animated corpse. Even though the air was still, the strangely shaped leaves rustled, producing a strange grating sound.

Weird, he thought. Danny began to look more closely at what he believed to be leaves, but the sudden sound of growling distracted him.

The boy turned, stunned to see the giant dog stalking toward him on wobbly legs. Cerberus hadn’t been killed in the fall after all. Huge chunks of its flesh were missing, and exposed muscle and bone glinted wetly through the various rips and gashes.

"Give it up," he told the dog as it slowly moved closer.

The animal continued to growl, bloody strings of saliva dripping from its two remaining mouths. Danny glanced in the direction of his friends, but they were not close enough to lend him a hand. It looked as though he was going to have to deal with this problem on his own.

"Last chance," he told the animal. "Just get the hell out of here, and we’ll call it even."

Cerberus continued its inexorable advance.

"All right," Danny said, reaching up to break away a limb from one of the skeletal trees. The branch came away with a loud snap, followed by a metallic rustling from the weird leaves.

He turned back to face the dog and saw that the animal had stopped. "Changing your mind?" he asked, a snarling smile on his face.

Cerberus seemed to have forgotten about him, its two remaining heads looking around as the sounds from the trees began to intensify. Its ears had gone flat against its blocky skulls, and Danny thought that he heard at least one of the heads whimpering.

What now?

The dog seemed afraid, and even though he would have liked to think it was because of him, something told him that really wasn’t the case.

Suddenly Danny realized that the leaves weren’t leaves at all. He watched in awe as the shapes dangling from the trees began to drop, unfurling sleek, angular wings just before hitting the ground and gliding back into the air.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered in awe, as the strange birds filled the air, their bodies catching the muted light of the Underworld, their feathers like tarnished metal. As he watched them dip and dart about, he trawled his knowledge of mythology, gained mostly from television, for the identity of these strange, metallic creatures.

One of the birds flew past his face, the side of its wing gently glancing his cheek, and he recoiled from its touch. His hand came away from his face covered in fresh blood. Wait. I remember. Birds, but with metal razors for feathers, some shit like that. Something to do with Hercules.

The swarming birds cried out, their strange song reminding him of the shriek of a rusty screen door, only much louder. They were agitated, maybe picking up on the vibes from him and Cerberus. Most flew in a shrieking cluster above them, but they were starting to dip lower, single members of the flock dropping down from the sky, razor-sharp wings coming dangerously close.

From the corner of his eye he saw Cerberus leaving, its heads and body tucked low to the ground as it began to trot. The flock apparently didn’t care for the dog’s sudden movement. Their grating cries grew louder, and more of them glided down from the sky, the touch of their wings slicing into rotting, broken flesh of the hound. Danny could hear the giant dog yelping in pain as it fled across the barren landscape, shrieking birds in pursuit.

Then Cerberus fell and the birds swarmed him. Even at that distance, Danny could hear the dog whimpering and he almost felt bad.

Almost.

Most of the razor birds had left with Cerberus, and Danny used the opportunity hurry to the cliff to meet his friends. They were almost to the bottom.

"You all right?" Eve asked weakly. "You look like total shit." She smiled at him then, and he knew that she was okay, despite the fact that she was covered in drying blood.

"You guys might want to hurry," he said, looking back over his shoulder. Only one or two of the birds were visible in the dark gloom of the cavernous sky. Most of them were still savaging Cerberus, and perhaps they would roost there for a time.

"What now, Daniel?" Conan Doyle sounded a bit exasperated.

"I think we’re okay." He reached out to help Eve with the final step to the Underworld floor. "But there were these crazy birds made of metal and — "

"Stymphalia," Conan Doyle interrupted.

"Whatever," Danny agreed. "They’re nasty."

Conan Doyle nodded as he removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. Both Eve and Ceridwen were sitting on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff path. Eve was already starting to look better, but now that he could see more clearly, Danny wished he could say the same about Ceridwen. The Faerie sorceress sat with her face buried in her hands. She might have gotten her second wind before, but it seemed like she had just about used it up.

Danny caught Conan Doyle’s eye. "Is she okay?"

The mage nodded, going to her side and putting a gentle hand on her arm. "This place seems to be having a debilitating effect." Danny noticed an uncharacteristic touch of concern in the man’s voice.

Ceridwen leaned her head back against his chest and looked up into his eyes. "Don’t be concerned," she told them all while speaking directly to Conan Doyle. "Give me a chance to acclimate myself, and I’m sure I’ll be fine."

Eve was up now, walking around, stretching her legs. But Danny saw her freeze in mid-step, and she turned toward him. "Hey, kid. Your friends are back."

She gestured with her chin to a rocky hill, where at least a dozen Stymphalia perched, watching them silently. More fluttered down from the sky with a metallic clatter.

Conan Doyle frowned as he watched Eve and Danny, in the twisted landscape of this new level of the Underworld. They were gesturing to one another, but for the moment seemed in no danger. He turned his attention once more to Ceridwen with an ache in his heart that only resonated more deeply when he caught her gazing at him. Something was happening here, between them. The caution, the resentment, the echo of the past was being stripped away.

It frightened him. He had caused her so much pain before that he knew he ought to keep her at arm’s length. But Conan Doyle did not know if even he had the strength for that. Particularly not now. Her normally pale skin was starting to turn an unhealthy gray, and it looked as though she were having a difficult time staying awake.

"I’m sorry," he said.

Ceridwen smiled weakly. "For what? This is not your doing, Arthur. You spend far too much time blaming yourself for things not in your control."

"If I had known this damnable place would have such an effect on you, I would have — "

"You would have done exactly as you have done." The sorceress cut him off. "I am not the focus of this mission." She stood and moved to him, reminding him of an old woman who had sat too long in a cold winter chill. "Drive your concerns for me from your mind," she said, placing the palm of her hand against his face, her cool touch providing a moment’s respite from the heat of the Underworld. "Stopping Nigel Gull should be your focus."

He took her into his arms then, and he could not stop himself. In the tongue of the Faerie he whispered to her. "For so long I had lost my heart. So many years that I stopped noticing it was gone. But now I have found it again, and the fear of losing it weighs heavily upon me."

Ceridwen pulled away and placed a hand on his chest, searching for the beat of his heart. Finding it, she smiled and was about to speak when a screeching din filled the air.

"Lord, what now?" Doyle muttered as he turned to see Eve and Danny walking backward toward them.

Beyond them, a flock of screeching, razor-winged birds filled the sky.

The Stymphalia had returned.

Conan Doyle and Ceridwen moved as best they could to meet Eve and Danny. The four of them gathered there on that hellish plain, and gazed at the glittering, screeching cloud coming toward them.

"Wish I knew what pissed them off so bad," Danny said.

Conan Doyle did not have time dwell on the question. The angry flock was quickly descending and he had to act if he and his charges were to survive the onslaught.

He took hold of Ceridwen’s hand. "Lend me what strength you have to spare." The sorceress nodded, gripping his fingers tightly, and he felt a surge of power flow into his body.

"Is this it?" Eve asked, panic in her tone as the birds wailed above them. "We’re going to drive them off by joining hands and singing Give Peace a Chance?"

"Eve," Conan Doyle snarled. "Stay close, and do shut up."

He attempted to blot out the sounds of the angry Stymphalian Birds, concentrating on a spell of protection. Where normally such a spell would flow from his lips, immediately providing the protection they so desperately needed, Conan Doyle found that his familiar magicks were not inclined to work efficiently in the Underworld. Even with Ceridwen’s strength added to his, the task of summoning a shield was exhausting and quite painful.

The birds unleashed their first wave, the more ferocious of their number diving down to touch razor-sharp feathers to delicate flesh.

"Doyle!" he heard Eve snap. "We’re waiting."

The birds’ cries were louder, more frenzied. He flinched as one flew past his arm, slicing through the material of his suit coat and the shirt beneath. He could feel the warmth of his own blood trickling down his arm.

"We’re going to be cut to fucking ribbons!" Danny yelled, and Conan Doyle sensed that the boy was about to bolt.

"Stay where you are," he commanded, feeling the troublesome magick begin to bend to his wishes.

The air around them hummed as the enchantment began to coalesce into the shield he had cast. The Stymphalia collided with the crackling sphere, their metal bodies falling to the ground in an explosion of cold, white sparks. It took everything Conan Doyle had — and what Ceridwen was continuing to give him — to maintain the bubble of magickal force. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold it.

The birds grew even more furious, descending in a ravening cluster, a blizzard of razor blades. Doyle and his companions were blind to the world outside as sparks exploded in the air around their protective sphere with the birds’ relentless onslaught. Conan Doyle felt Ceridwen’s grip begin to weaken and glanced over to see his woman struggling to stay upright.

"Hold on, love. Hold on."

The sphere began to waver and one of the Stymphalia managed to break through. Conan Doyle cried as the bird landed atop his head, sinking its needle-like beak into his scalp.

Eve was the first to react, swatting the animal to the ground and stamping on it with the heel of her boot.

"My thanks, Eve," he gasped, a warm stream of blood from his scalp tickling the back of his neck.

Ceridwen fell to her knees, her pale flesh tinted more green than ever. She had given all she could, but it still was not enough. The magickal sphere of protection threatened to buckle.

"Eve, I want you to listen to me," Conan Doyle said through gritted teeth. "I can’t keep this up much longer. When the sphere falls, I want you and Danny to take Ceridwen and run. I’m certain that there are caves nearby where you can find shelter and hold off any further attack."

"What about you?" she asked. "Don’t even think about telling me you plan to stay here because — "

"I will hold them off so you can get a healthy head start. Please, when my magick fails, take Ceridwen and Danny away from here."

Eve came around to face him. There was rage and a hint of fear on her beautiful yet tired features. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed, the birds outside riled even more by her display of anger. "You’re an arch mage for Christ’s sake, and you’re going to allow some metal fucking birds to end your life?!"

Conan Doyle shook his head sadly. "My magick is not working as it should here. The power in this place is different, more ancient. Cerdiwen cannot wield the elements of this place as she should. They are not eager to be tamed, they fight her at every turn. And the magick is similar. Unfamiliar to me."

He looked into her eyes and saw that she was speechless, a rarity for her. Then Eve nodded. "I’ll get them out. But then I’m coming back for you."

He was weakening far faster then he would have imagined. All they had were moments, and he looked to see that they were ready. Eve held Ceridwen in her arms and Conan Doyle’s heart was wrenched by how frail the sorceress looked.

The magick fought to slip away from him, and he fell to his knees, straining to hold on to his control. The Stymphalian Birds continued to swarm around the sphere, screeching excitedly, as if they knew that their dogged patience was about to be rewarded. But then, above their cries of savagery, Arthur Conan Doyle heard something else.

A voice raised in song.

The magickal shielding fell away with a fleeting whisper, but somehow they remained safe.

"Should we be running?" Eve asked, warily watching the swarm of razor-feathered birds that flew above their heads.

"Listen," Conan Doyle said.

The song grew louder, stronger, and he could just about make out the words. Its message was one of peace and serenity, and it was sung in a language that even the Stymphalia could understand. Where the sky had once been filled with winged death, it was now suddenly clear, the razor birds darting into the distant shadows of the cavern, convinced to be elsewhere. Conan Doyle could still hear their screeching cries, but they were far away now.

And though the threat had been dispersed, the song continued to fill the air and Conan Doyle watched as Nigel Gull, singing out gloriously in the voice of Orpheus, approached, his Wicked following like obedient dogs at his heels.

"Hello, Arthur," Gull said. He could not help but smile. To see Conan Doyle so helpless, it was absolutely priceless.

"Nigel. I suppose we owe you a bit of thanks."

Gull waved his words away. "Not at all, old friend. You were in a fix, and I was happy to oblige. Would you not do the same for me?"

"Of course they would have," Hawkins agreed.

Jezebel giggled, biting at a fingernail with her dainty mouth.

Conan Doyle remained silent, ignoring the commentary, and turned to check the condition of his people. Despite his words, Gull wondered if the man would have left him and his operatives to the mercies of the razor birds had the situation been reversed. For in truth he would not himself have bothered with saving Sir Arthur and his Menagerie if he did not still need something from them. He would have quite enjoyed watching them all die horribly.

Gull watched as Conan Doyle took Ceridwen from Eve’s arms and laid her upon the ground. He caught the demon boy watching him with a steely, untrusting gaze. This is one to watch, Gull thought, returning his attentions to Doyle and his lover.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked with an attempt at concern. It was so difficult to muster.

"Nothing that leaving this place won’t cure," Conan Doyle said as he rose from Ceridwen’s side and stalked toward Gull. "Why are you here, Nigel? What purpose could you possibly have in this damnable place?"

Hawkins chuckled as he moved to stand beside his employer. "The old man knows you well, sir," he said with a sneer. "Type of bloke thinks he’s smarter than all the rest. Two steps ahead of everyone else."

Conan Doyle barely acknowledged the silver-haired man, his eyes boring into Gull. "Why?" he asked again.

Nigel gazed around at the black, gnarled trees that grew sparsely across the charcoal gray earth of this place. There were other landscapes here — the terrain changed almost constantly as one traveled through the Underworld — but this place was almost pretty in comparison. "There is something I need, here. Something that will help me gain a prize I’ve long been denied."

Conan Doyle laughed disdainfully and it took all the self-control that Gull could muster to not slap the condescending smirk from his face.

"What is it now, Nigel?" the mage asked. "What forbidden treasure has tempted you beyond the limits of rational thinking this time?"

Gull wanted to tell him. To explain that there was no ancient book or scroll, or object of power to sell to the highest bidder. Instead, he swallowed painfully, the dry air of the Underworld making his throat ache, and stepped closer to the man who had insulted him so.

"Matters of the heart, dear boy," he whispered, leaning forward slightly so that Conan Doyle was sure to hear. "Matters of the heart."

Conan Doyle’s face screwed up in confusion, and Gull was certain that the infuriating man wanted to know more, but Gull’s patience was gone and they had to move on.

"What the devil are you talking about man, matters of the…"

Gull raised a misshapen hand to silence him. "I’ve said enough and wasted too much time with you." He scanned the skies of the forbidden world. "In case you haven’t noticed, this can be quite a dangerous place, and to stay put for too long can mean your demise."

His stare locked with Conan Doyle’s. "We have to leave."

"And where are we going?" his adversary asked grimly, straightening his jacket as though he could look presentable down in this ancient hell.

Gull cleared his throat, preparing to once again sing. "You’re not going anywhere. I require only Eve."

Alarm flashed in Conan Doyle’s eyes and a crackle of golden light flared from his fingertips, but Gull would have no such resistance. He sang out a single note in the voice of Orpheus, freezing the Menagerie where they stood. Conan Doyle gritted his teeth, attempting to fight the paralyzing command of that song, but to no avail.

Gull paused to rest his vocal cords, gesturing toward Eve. "This way, dear lady. We have an appointment with the Erinyes."

Hatred burning in her eyes, fighting the movement of every muscle, Eve stepped away from her friends.

"I’ll kill you for this, you know," she hissed, showing Nigel her fangs, and he sang several soft notes that sapped away all her aggression.

I’m sure you would, he thought. But I’m not fool enough to give you the chance.

Then he looked at Jezebel and Hawkins. "Take her," he ordered. The girl took one arm, and the man the other and they led Eve away. Gull returned his attentions to Conan Doyle and the remainder of his team. "I want to say a proper good-bye."

"Will you kill us, Nigel?" Conan Doyle asked, swaying on his feet, still under the sway of the Orpheus song. Ceridwen moaned on the ground behind him, the demon boy kneeling by her side.

"What do you take me for?" Gull asked, feigning horror. "We have far too much history for that." Again, he looked to the dark, ocher skies of the Underworld, and filling his lungs, sang out a lilting verse, long and powerful. A song of summoning. "I cannot kill you, Arthur, but this place…"

Gull cocked his head, listening for a particular sound and found it. It was the sound of flapping wings far off in the distance — but growing closer.

He smiled, turned on his heel, and left them to die.