Satan's Mirror (32 page)

Running through mazes of corridors, Emily made it up another three flights. Her path ended at a large ornate door. She placed her hand on the wrought surface, and then snatched it away. The metal was so cold it felt like it seared her skin.

Goaded by images of her daughter frostbitten and shivering, Emily jammed her shoulder against the door. Her feet slipped on the frozen floor as she pushed. Wind screeched through the crack, bitter air struck her face. Against the force of the gale, she opened the door wide enough to squeeze through.

She stepped onto a battlement. Wind shoved her against the wall. Half the sky was black. The other half pulsed orange from the lake of fire. The dark silhouette of a tower shimmered in the glow.

“April! Mommy’s coming.” The wind tore away her words.

Groping the icy wall, she made her way along the parapet. Windborne cinders struck like buckshot. With her head down and her hood pulled tight, she shuffled her boots over the slick stone.

Emily entered the tower through an open archway. Wind screamed around her, coursing upward like through a chimney. High overhead, a circular opening was lit red with the lake’s glow.

The stairs mimicked those in the dungeon—slabs of circular stone piled atop one another to form an inverted cone. They rose up the center of the cylindrical tower in a steep slope. Emily climbed on all fours, gouging handholds from the thick frost. The rushing air pushed and pulled her.

Near the top, a hellhound howled. There came a terrified shriek. She clambered up the remaining steps. The first thing she saw was an iron cage suspended from a domed ceiling.

A hellhound leapt at it, sailing through the air as if flying. The beast clung to the bars for a moment before dropping once more to the floor. There came another shriek. Emily narrowed her eyes. The cage held a small figure.

April.

A sob wrenched Emily’s throat. She notched an arrow and took aim. The hound leapt at her daughter again, exposing its gut. She shot. The wind caught the arrow, taking it off her mark, but it struck its ribs with enough force to elicit a yelp. She shot again, hitting its foreleg. The hound spun in place, snapping at the arrows.

With her knife in one hand and the caretaker wand in the other, Emily climbed onto the floor.

“Mommy!” April cried.

Emily’s heart swelled. She wanted to hold her, to kiss her tiny face, but first she had a monster to kill.

The hellhound growled, its hackles rising, making it look massive. Its eyes glowed red. Emily circled, her knife out. As she did so, she took note of the surroundings.

Only the glow of the lake lighted the octagonal room. A large crank stood to one side. Arched windows lined each wall. A carved gargoyle sat in one.

Slavering and baring its teeth, the hound sprang. Emily slashed an X across its face. It crouched, pawing the wound. The snake-like tail whipped its back. She brandished the knife. From the corner of her eye, she saw the gargoyle move. She nearly tripped, spinning to face it.

What she thought was a stone effigy was actually a harpy. It stretched its wings, filling the window, and then hopped off the ledge onto the floor. In the darkness, Emily lost sight of it. She backed away.

The dog growled, circling again. Overhead, April sobbed. Emily scarcely breathed. She listened for the scrabble of talons. Her eyes flicked to the shadows.

On its haunches, the hellhound swiped at her. She evaded the blow, slashing the air with her knife. The harpy’s silhouette crossed a window. With a sharp jab, the handle of the crank prodded Emily. She realized she’d backed into a corner. Distracted, she stepped sideways.

The hound bounded up. Its heavy paws struck her chest. Her head thumped the wall. The beast’s face was inches from hers. Its breath was hot and foul. She pummeled its side with her knife, knowing she was barely penetrating the thick hide. Her leg brushed the arrow in its ribs. She hammered the shaft with her knee, forcing it deeper. The beast yowled. She thrust the animal away, stumbling, and headed toward the center of the room.

With a vicious snarl, it leapt again. Emily hit it with the caretaker wand. There was a blinding flash.

At the same instant, April shouted, “Mommy, look out!”

Emily turned to see a stark imprint of the harpy rise behind her. She brought the wand around. The bird struck, knocking her hand away. With a horrific flapping sound, the dark wings enfolded her.

Emily fell to the floor, the creature’s weight upon her. The wand bounced out of her hand. She squirmed from side to side, ducking slashes of the serrated beak. She pounded its face, and then shoved her armguard into its mouth, holding it open. At the same time, she brought up the knife and plunged it into its throat.

“You. Will. Not. Keep. Me. From. Her.” She emphasized each syllable with a blow of her blade. Hot blood poured over her. Still hacking its neck, Emily wriggled from beneath the body. She had nearly severed the head.

As she sheathed the knife, Emily looked up at her daughter. April beckoned. Emily hurried to the crank, released the chain holding the cage, and lowered it to the floor. It landed askew, half on the harpy’s body.

She ran to daughter, cupping her face in her hands. April was as cold as the bars.

Emily stepped along the edge of the cage. She shook the door, and then clawed the oversized padlock, crying out in frustration. She’d lost the sword. How could she break the lock?

April pointed with a shaking hand. “Key.”

Near the crank, Emily found a key ring hanging on a peg. She imagined the demons making a show of leaving it in plain sight—the unattainable prize.

She unlocked the cage door.

April launched herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing. “I knew you would save me.”

“Oh, my precious child.”

Emily smothered her face with kisses. She clutched her tight. Gone was the moan of wind, the stench of harpy blood. She knew only the touch of her daughter’s frail body, her cheek against hers.

“I will always come to save you,” she murmured.

April pulled back, gazing with solemn eyes. “Mommy, I don’t want to have a dog anymore.”

Emily blinked, her thoughts transporting her to a warm home filled with light and love, and a table laden with food—and she wanted to stay there, wanted to reject this horrific reality. Her eyes smarted with the tears she could not shed. She hugged her little girl. “My God, you’re like ice.”

She stripped off her leather coat, cringing from the blast of freezing air, and removed the tunic she wore. She dressed April in the tunic, and then wrapped them both in the coat.

“The other birds went away,” April murmured, staring at the harpy beneath the cage. “I don’t know why this one stayed.”

Emily thought of Gun and his relentless harpy. “It was probably assigned to you.” Picking up her daughter, reveling in the feel of her, she gazed at the frozen vista.

Her plan had been to escape the castle through the tunnels and hide in the wastelands. She hadn’t expected hell to freeze over. How could she protect her daughter against such brutal conditions? How long did night last?

Movement caught her eye. Emily turned to see one of the super demons step out of the castle onto the battlement. He carried a pitchfork. She felt the blood drain from her face. With her eyes on the demon, she set April on the floor.

She approached the window. A harpy nest covered the sill, blocking her shot. It consisted of bones and feathers cemented with dung. Despite the weight, she hauled it out of her way. Several eggs fell as the nest landed on the floor.

Emily aimed out the window, trying to gauge the wind’s velocity. She shot. The gale caught the arrow. It flew sideways over the turret and disappeared.

She tried again. This time, the arrow flew true. It struck the fiend in the throat. He grasped his neck, looking up at her. Staggering backward, he toppled over the side of the battlement, out of sight.

Emily let out her breath, collapsing against the window ledge. She didn’t think the arrow would have killed him, but the fall certainly would. She gave her daughter’s shoulder a squeeze.

The castle door opened. Two more demons stepped out.

Emily tensed. She shot again. One arrow glanced harmlessly off a chest. The other buried itself in a thigh. She reached for her final arrow, but it was no use. Three more demons appeared on the parapet.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

“Come on,” April cried. “Block the hole.” She tugged the cage as if she would drag it to the stairwell herself.

Emily marveled at her little girl’s bravery. She shouldered her bow, and then leapt to the top of the bell-shaped cage. As it was already leaning on the harpy’s body, it tipped readily. She and April rolled it over the opening in the floor.

On hands and knees, Emily gathered the fallen eggs. They were roughly the size and shape of footballs and as hard as granite. One felt hot, and she recoiled, imagining the abomination growing inside.

She threw that one first, hurling it as hard as she could at the oncoming guards. There were at least a dozen of them lined up in a row along the battlement, pitchforks over their shoulders. Even under her attack, they didn’t run. They stared at the tower as if stymied.

She threw another, and another, arching her back and slinging them with both hands. Behind her, April pulled down the rest of the nests, searching for more eggs. She rolled them to Emily across the floor.

The barrage did not deter the demons. They climbed up the stairs and appeared at the mouth of the stairwell, reaching through the hole, trying to push the cage out of their way.

April yelled. Emily threw her weight onto the cage, trying to hold it in place.

“April,” she said, “I need you to find the wand.”

She crawled over the floor. “Here!” She held it out. “I have it.”

Emily jammed the wand into a demon’s eye. He screamed. Lightning danced across his teeth. He fell away.

Two more guards took his place. They picked up the cage in the tines of their forks and tossed it.

Emily fell to the floor, but bounded up again, her wand ready. Hell-spawn swarmed through the hole. She jabbed at the nearest face. The fiend caught her wrist in his hand, twisting until she dropped the weapon. His other hand went around her throat. She gasped, clawing at the thick fingers, kicking as her feet left the floor.

April screamed. Emily fought, trying to look around, trying to see what was happening to her child. All she could see was shadows and horns.

April. Her little girl. She failed her. She failed them both.

The demon dragged her down the stairwell. It seemed to be a deep, dark hole. Emily thought it would never end.

FIFTY-ONE

Emily spent what felt like the next few hours slung over a demon’s shoulder in a long and painful trek through the castle. Behind her, she watched April’s legs bounce as she was conveyed in the same manner. Disappointment filled her, even more crushing than fear for her own wellbeing. She’d come so close. But the devil won.

At last, Emily was dumped onto the floor. She glanced about. She was in the main orgy room. Hell-spawn crowded around her. Too many to count. Horror constricted her throat, but she refused to scream. Her fear would not be used for entertainment.

She scrambled to her feet. “April?”

“Mommy?”

A super demon stood inside the encircling throng, holding April by the back of her neck. She looked terrified. Emily wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right—but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t see how they would escape this fiasco.

Despair broke over her. She had failed. After everything she’d done, after everything she’d been through, she couldn’t save her little girl. Visions assaulted her mind’s eye. She saw the many rooms she passed while skulking through the castle—rooms of fire and boiling oil, rooms where the victims were drawn and then hung with their own intestines. Would they put April in one of those rooms? Her precious child.

No! She wouldn’t let them. She wouldn’t give up. There had to be some way out of this mess.

She gave April a reassuring nod. She considered hugging her. But all attention was focused on Emily, not on her daughter, and she’d rather keep it that way.

In fact, not only were the demons staring at Emily, they did so from a respectful distance. Only the guard who carried her down from the tower had laid hands on her. Further, they appeared drunk, leaning upon one another for support.

The dungeon. People still cried for her help from the dungeon beneath them. Their aura of hope, although faded, affected many of the hell-spawn before her.

Could she use that? Could she somehow increase the level of hope so she and April could escape? Perhaps if the prisoners knew she was there…

In as loud a voice as she could muster, Emily shouted, “Who is in charge here?”

There came an answering voice. The mob shuffled back, creating a sort of arena in the center of the room. Emily saw a large, golden throne. Upon it sat the devil with the necklace. The devil who’d taken April.

Emily’s lip curled. “You.”

He smiled, showing sharp, needle-like teeth. A smaller demon approached the throne, head bowed and murmuring, presenting him with Emily’s bow and quiver. The devil accepted her possessions and dismissed him with a nod.

He opened his arms in an expansive gesture, and said in his dual voice, “I am Satan. Welcome to Wormwood, my amusement park, a playground for the meek and lost.”

Emily remembered the last time she saw him—he’d ripped the tongue out of one man’s throat and stuffed it down another’s. Her legs quaked and her stomach roiled—but she would not be cowed. She would be brave for her little girl.

“Is that how you see yourselves?” she said. “Meek?”

“We are. Now.” He crossed his legs in a revoltingly human manner. “We were once an aggressive race. Proud and strong. But in our zest for war, we nearly obliterated ourselves. Emotions became outlawed.” He leaned forward. “We bred them out.”

“But not out of you.”

“I’m special.” He grinned. “Much like you. My countrymen are convinced you are the deity, bringing retribution to the wicked and rapture to the worthy.”