Leopold stared. What was the man talking about? Had he lost his mind? He was about to speak up, when Mingli uttered a string of Chinese curses. Von Spiegel looked at her and smiled. The wrinkles at his mouth seemed odd. And his voice. It had deepened, changed.
Leopold took a step back.
“That isn’t von Spiegel, Leopold,” said Mingli. “He’s only disguised as von Spiegel.”
An alarm sounded. Men came out of nowhere, scrambling across the floor, carefully skirting the rows of silent golems. Leopold grabbed Mingli’s arm to drag her back to the shadows and to the tent wall, but it was too late. Waldhar’s men surrounded them.
Quickly relieved of their weapons, they were marched to the bottom of the Daemon Device. Von Spiegel followed, shoving them forward. Leopold got a good look at the Device at last as it worked. The bright gateway paused and narrowed to a slit. Switches were thrown. Its light dimmed and the constant march of golems stopped.
Where was Waldhar?
Von Spiegel laughed again. “I suppose you’re wondering where your leader of the Order of the Valkyrie went off to. But of course, he’s here. Right here.” He reached up to his forehead and began to pull.
Horrified, Leopold watched. Von Spiegel reached up and grabbed his hair. With several tugs his eyes elongated upward, stretching. The mouth grimaced unnaturally, and soon the whole face and head pulled off with a sticky squelching sound, revealing the face of Manfried Waldhar. As he stripped himself of the von Spiegel suit, he grew taller and broader. Instead of the appearance of a diminutive and slightly hunched old man, the taller man pulled himself free, like sloughing off a chrysalis. Von Spiegel was now nothing more than a loose, boneless costume, pooled beneath him. When he stepped out of it, he cast the rubbery skin with its clothes away and shook out his head of shaggy hair. Tall, Teutonic, the very image that his kind professed to be superior. He pulled his monocle from his vest pocket, carefully cleaned it with his handkerchief, and placed it in front of his eye. “Such an unpleasant thing, living in another’s skin. Even the magic little helps.” He straightened his clothes and looked at Leopold and Mingli through his monocle.
“I cannot seem to escape you, Inspector Zhao and Mr. Kazsmer. Always you are underfoot. But that is about to change.”
“You won’t succeed,” Leopold announced, though he had no idea how he was to stop him now.
“Please, save your speeches for the penny dreadfuls. I haven’t the stomach for such naïve platitudes.”
Mingli struggled with her captor. “You’re a horrid man.”
“That may very well be, my dear.” He stopped before her and lifted her chin with a gloved finger. “And though death may be preferable once my army is unleashed—and death will certainly come to you, Mr. Kazsmer soon enough—I think this exotic creature will have…other uses.”
Leopold yanked nearly free from the men holding him. “Don’t you dare touch her!”
“Oh ho! Chivalrous, surely. But do I detect something more, Kazsmer? Might you be enamored of the lovely inspector? Oh, how sad. Truly operatic. Well, your death will not be in vain, then. We will have to think of something very interesting in order to finish you off.”
Leopold struggled but was pulled back. A swipe to the head with a fist slowed him down.
No, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He tried to summon his magic, any magic, but it felt as if there was a void where there should have been plenty. After all, the gateway had opened, the Otherworld trickled in. He glanced toward the device and released a small noise of surprise to see his Lock in place.
Waldhar hadn’t missed his glance. “So, you see your own mechanism. You are clever indeed, Kazsmer. So nimble of finger as well as mind. Your magic quite permeated every inch of it. The perfect sort of magic. When I performed the incantation, it worked flawlessly. With much thanks to Herr Professor. Well…the real von Spiegel before we divested him of his skin.”
“I don’t understand. It was supposed to stop your damned device. It was a lock!”
“Poor Franz. The real von Spiegel, of course. He was nearly convinced that the ‘Lock’ would stop the device.”
“You fiend! You used him.”
“I’m afraid the real von Spiegel has been long dead. A year at least. But I must say, you were very solicitous to that kind old man, Leopold. May I call you so? I feel as if we have been through much together.”
“You used his…his skin to get to me? Why?”
Waldhar looked down and toed the von Spiegel skin. “We discovered a way to preserve and animate the skins of others, in order to look like them. Like a prime minister, for instance, or other head of state. You see, the magic reconfigures the skin’s inhabitants. A tall man can be short within the skin, or a short man taller. One day, soon, even your queen shall be inhabited. You see how convenient this will be to put my own people in place to…urge the populace into conforming to my wishes.”
Leopold tried to pull from his captors, but to no avail.
“As for the rest, I believe von Spiegel explained it adequately. He knew your father, understood that your unique magic was needed to create the final ingredient for my Device. There were simply some things I couldn’t do for myself. And only the purest of hands could accomplish them. Yours, I’m afraid. And your magical signature. It’s quite unique, you see.”
“But why steal the plans in the first place only to have his imposter recreate them?”
“They needed adjusting. And I wanted to confound you for as long as possible. It turns out I’m an excellent actor.”
“But I made you a bloody lock!”
“Foolish little man. It was never a lock. Look at it! It didn’t need a lock. What it needed was a key.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LEOPOLD STARED AT his handiwork in horror. He had helped him. Unwittingly to be sure, but if it hadn’t been for him the damned thing wouldn’t have worked at all.
“You used me,” he whispered.
“Of course I used you! It is what the superior race does to the inferior. And you are quite inferior, are you not, Leopold? Not only a Gypsy but a Jew! My, my, my. I can’t think of anything lower, to tell you the truth. Unless you were also part pickaninny. No? Well then. See what your good work has achieved!”
Leopold did look. The seams flared with light. The gateway wanted to push forth, to open wide. What the device did, what his “lock” helped to do, was keep it all in check, dialed down to exactly the precision that Waldhar wanted. He could keep the door opened but a sliver or cast it open wide if he so chose.
The golem army stood by. Their solemn sagging faces looked forward blankly. Holes for eyes, a mere swash for a mouth, their hideous features were all the more terrifying for their blankness, their soullessness. So fresh were they, that the clay dripped onto the floor like the droppings from cattle.
“And not only did you supply me with the key,” Waldhar went on, “but also with the power source I needed. You summoned that daemon at a most opportune time. For the organs harvested from my sacrificial females, could open the gate but could not focus it. And then there you were. Oh Mr. Kazsmer, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. Perhaps because of it, your death will be swift. Would you like that?”
“What have you done?” Leopold twisted to look at the device again, searching for Waldhar’s meaning.
“Bring him closer,” said Waldhar to Leopold’s guards. “Let him see just what he has wrought.”
Leopold strained against his guards and approached the heaving metal. He could feel the heat emanating off of it, smell the odor of the forge and of the Otherworld creeping in like a leaky sewer pipe. A small window set in the metal seemed to be made of some sort of fireproof crystal. Coming closer, Leopold peered inside. He gasped and pulled back.
Shackled by fire with his arms outstretched, was Eurynomos. He writhed and strained against his obviously agonizing bonds. His mouth was open in a silent howl. Horns twisting upward, his body glistened with sweat. He could do nothi
ng against the tethers of flame that kept him in place.
“What have you done to him?”
“He is in bondage now. A very powerful daemon, is your friend, Leopold. Unlike…such creatures…” He gestured aside and Leopold didn’t need the use of his special spectacles to see the imp scamper across the floor, scramble up the side of the hot metal Daemon Device, and skitter down again. It grabbed Waldhar’s trouser leg and looked back at Leopold from the safety he found there. Waldhar shook him loose. “Disgusting creature. Don’t touch me.”
“Will not touch, Master. Will wait for orders.”
“And that is all you are good for. Not this strapping daemon captured within my device. His magical strength pulls the gateway open and the Device keeps it that way and creates my armies of golems. They come because, like moths to the light, they are attracted to its glow. Your friend will continue as my power source until he is used up…in one hundred years or so. The Cloven-Hoofed One is of lower hierarchy than your friend and could never have supplied the power necessary. I know. I tried.”
Leopold’s gaze was riveted to the little window. All his mistrust was forgotten. The pain on Eurynomos’ face was enough to wipe the slate clean. And all he could think about was how to help him. But how could he possibly?
“As soon as the Device is at full power, the dirigible mini-devices can supply their own golems. I am very pleased that this is working so well. Thank you, Leopold. Ordinarily I would have rewarded you handsomely. But you are more of a hindrance than I need. You!” he said to the imp. “Bind them both! And you!” He turned to the golem army standing by. “Guard them. I do not trust this idiot imp.”
All the golems in formation began marching toward them, but then Waldhar held up his hands. “Halt, you dumkopfs.” He shook his head with a sigh as the clay men stopped in their tracks. “These Jewish golems, they are so literal. You, you, and you,” he said, pointing to three in the front row. “Guard them.” He spoke slowly and carefully as if to a small child. “The rest of you, follow me.” He smiled over his shoulder at Leopold. “I must attend to my army. Each must be given their orders or they will fall into chaos, I’m afraid. But an order to a golem is an order. They will guard you till the end of time until I give the countermand.” He chuckled. “Once I have secured England, we shall talk again. It’s a shame, really. I could have used you.”
“Never!”
“I could always…skin you. It’s simple once you know how. We’ll replace the crowned heads of Europe and put my own operatives in their shoes. The invasion will go much easier, you see. Farewell, Mr. Kazsmer.”
The three golems ordered to stay, stood surrounding Leopold and Mingli.
Before Leopold could think of a plan, the imp cackled and raised his hands. Ropes shot forth and spun around Leopold and Mingli. They crashed together back to back on the floor and Leopold knocked his head against the hard-packed dirt. Stars flashed in his eyes.
Back to back with Mingli, head ringing with pain, and heart hammering with anger and grief, Leopold brooded. The imp danced before them cheering as each battalion peeled off and marched away at the direction of the German guards’ orders. The sound of mud slapping the ground carried on for long minutes, until the golems had finally all departed.
The Device thrummed and a ray of light escaped now and again to shoot upward toward the tent roof, but all other activity seemed to have ceased. He could not see any more oilskin-clad workers, nor the henchmen.
The imp danced about them, cackling in its absurd form of laughter.
“Ugh, Leo, you are quite right. He is a horrid little bugger.”
The imp stopped and stared at Mingli, coming closer. He tilted his head left then right. “You are not pretty either. Flesh men are very ugly.”
“Shoo!” she cried, and the imp staggered back, afraid, and fell back on his naked bum.
Leopold laughed. The imp shot to his feet and got up in Leopold’s face. “You not laugh. You are the one to die! You not laugh at me.”
“I’m very much afraid, old bean, that you are incredibly comical. I can’t see doing much else but laugh.”
And then Mingli laughed as well.
“You no laugh! You no laugh!” The creature stomped back and forth between them, screaming at the top of his lungs. His small wings flapped erratically. He ran up to Leopold and glared. “You no laugh. Or I tell your father.”
Leopold’s mirth stopped abruptly. “You filthy liar.”
The imp settled back, a smile spreading on his face. “Not a liar. I saw him. Just yesterday.”
Leopold lunged toward him but stopped abruptly when Mingli cried out. He had forgotten he was tied to her.
“You never saw my father.”
Mingli rested her head on his back and said softly, “Leo, he’s baiting you.”
“You never saw my father,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“I did! I did!” He danced about again. His tail flopped up and down. “I saw him. I spoke to him.” He shook his head with an expression of mock regret. “He isn’t very happy. He would rather be dead.”
He almost shouted that his father was dead…but he now knew the truth of it. Eurynomos had hidden that fact from him on that hideous day, when his father was taken from him and Leopold had had to make a deal with the denizens of the Otherworld in order to save himself. But of course the daemons had lied. Even Eurynomos. But his friend had done it to save Leopold the pain of it. At least that’s what he now believed. He had to believe it.
“He wouldn’t talk to you,” said Leopold with a scowl. “He’d never talk to the likes of you.”
“But he did. It is so lonely where he is, you see. Lonely. Hee hee! But you will not be lonely when you die, Leopold Kazsmer. Oh, you will have so much company. So many souls in torment to keep you company!”
The imp drew near just so he could sneer into Leopold’s face. And that’s when Leopold felt it. The tingle of magic. He felt it first in his wrist, along the winding tattoo. Each time the imp drew near him he felt the magic leech off the frightful bugger.
Leopold steadied his gaze on the red-skinned imp. “You come here and tell me exactly what he said. I dare you.”
“Leo,” Mingli said quietly. “Let it go.”
“Come here, you little bastard,” he repeated, ignoring her. “Tell me to my face.”
“He weeps,” said the imp. “Oh, he weeps bitter tears.” The imp sidled up to Leopold and bent over to look him in the eye. “And then he said he will never see you again, or those he loves. It is a sad place in a dark and deserted corner of Sitra Achra. A troubled place.”
Leopold only half-listened to the little creature’s words. The closer the imp got, the more magic Leopold gathered. He concentrated, and the bonds began to loosen. Mingli made a small gasp but otherwise kept silent.
“Poor sad Mr. Kazsmer,” said the imp. “He will never know his son dies. Never know. Never see you again. Never—grgh!” Fast as lightning, Leopold’s unbound hands snapped up and closed around the imp’s neck. The scaly skin, the hotness of it barely registered on his senses. The imp’s eyes widened impossibly and his claws scrabbled at Leopold’s hands until he squeezed tighter and the imp’s hands fell away.
“Who’s going to die now?” he rasped. Still clasping the imp by the throat, he got to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the golems, but they didn’t stir. As long as he stayed where he was, they didn’t seem to care what he did.
“I think I’d like to snap your neck.”
The imp shook his head wildly. His wings flapped uselessly at Leopold’s arm.
“Then tell me how to shut down this device.”
The imp shrugged, shaking his head.
Mingli tried to move away to study the control panel, but one golem advanced on her…until she backed up to where she was before.
“Leo, we must get rid of these golems…or all is lost.”
“I know, I know. Have you got back any of your own powers?” he asked he
r.
She nodded. “But they are still weak.”
He shot a glare at the golems stoically surrounding them. “I should like to kill this imp,” he said with gritted teeth. “But I think I have a better idea.”
He held that scrawny neck taut with one hand and with the other reached into his pocket for his new switchblade.
The golems did nothing.
He pressed the button and the shiny blade snapped out. The imp stared at it, legs pumping in the air.
“You’ve been Waldhar’s little servant—his bitch—haven’t you? But now you’ll be mine.” He dug the tip into the scaly flesh of the imp’s chest and began to carve. The imp shrieked but it never effected Leopold’s steady chanting. “Ani mitzavehl!” He etched the Hebrew glyphs into the skin. Black blood oozed from the wounds. The imp tried to wriggle away but Leopold tightened his grip on his neck. All the imp could do was howl.
The mark at his wrist glowed and he released the imp with a “Ha!”
The imp fell to the floor in an undignified splat. It scrambled to its webbed feet and looked down at the new marks on its chest. “No! No!”
“Oh yes. Now I command you. You will come when I call. And you will leave when I say so. What is your name?”
It held its head and rocked back and forth. “You trick, you trick! I hate you.”
“What is your name?”
“Suchah,” it uttered reluctantly.
Leopold laughed. “Suchah? That’s fitting. ‘Filth’ you are, then. Can you destroy that device?”
The Daemon Device Page 24