06 The Enchantress

by Michael Scott

  Josh finally made it over to the east side of the pyramid to Joan.

  Her torn armor was blazing like a silver torch, blinding the beasts that howled and snarled and gibbered in the gloom. She was surrounded on all sides by the jackal-headed anpu; some were creeping up behind her. Josh raised his hand, a spear of flame forming, but then he stopped—the creatures were too close. The fire would catch Joan, too.

  And then a shape formed out of the night air.

  A rider spiraling in on a glider.

  And the light from Joan’s blazing armor lit up a white face and bright red hair and savage vampire teeth.

  Josh watched as Scathach unhooked herself from the glider at the last moment and dropped screaming with delight onto the startled anpu. She stood back to back with Joan; the Shadow’s weapons blurred and the beasts fell in waves.

  But the monsters continued to climb the pyramid on all sides.

  “No more,” Josh pleaded, turning back to Isis and Osiris. “Let this end now.”

  “Only you can end it,” Isis said. “Only you have the power.” She smiled. “Think of this: you could wipe away the anpu and the humani, and the Elders, too. This world, and all the Shadowrealms, could be yours to command.”

  “Look around you!” Osiris shouted, spreading his arms wide. “Look at what could be yours. The greatest empire ever seen. It is yours for the taking.”

  “But we don’t want it,” Sophie said, speaking for both of them. “You do.”

  “And we don’t want to give it to you,” Josh added.

  Isis and Osiris looked at them blankly.

  “You will do as you are told,” Isis insisted.

  “No!” The twins spoke as one.

  “Then you are useless to us,” Isis hissed. She looked at Osiris. “Kill them.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  “Man, that is one ugly crustacean,” Black Hawk said. The two American immortals were creeping through the fog toward the giant crab, crawling on their bellies across the stones.

  “Good eating in those claws, though,” Billy said with a grin. “At least two weeks’ worth of eating.”

  “Now, don’t get stupid, Billy,” Black Hawk muttered. “Remember what happened last time.” The last time the two men had gone hunting, Billy had almost been trampled to death in a buffalo stampede.

  “There were about a million buffalo that time,” Billy said. “All we have here is one crab. Admittedly, a giant crab.”

  “There will be a moment when it comes around by the Administration Building,” Black Hawk said. “It should be off balance, hind legs lower than its forelegs. If you can hook a leg, you can pull it back.” The copper-skinned man carried two spears strapped to his back. He shrugged them free and handed one to Billy. “If you get a chance, take it. And, Billy,” he added, “remember, there are other creatures out there. Make sure they don’t sneak up and take a bite out of you. Don’t be creative. Don’t be stupid.”

  “That’s what Machiavelli said. You guys really have a lot of faith in me, don’t you?”

  “Neither of us wants to lose you. Just be careful, Billy.”

  “Careful is my middle name.”

  Black Hawk rolled his eyes. “You told me it was Henry.”

  Using the spearheads, Nicholas, Perenelle and Machiavelli had carved a huge hole in the shell encasing Areop-Enap. In places the mud was several feet thick, speckled and encrusted with the corpses of some of the millions of flies that had poisoned the creature earlier in the week.

  Perenelle stuck her head into the opening, then pulled it out again, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Stinks,” she gasped. Turning away, she inhaled in a deep breath, then used her aura to bring her index finger alight. She pushed her arm into the opening and watched as the flame danced, flaring as it burned through the noxious gases. With Nicholas holding on to her belt, she shoved her head into the opening again and looked around. When she jerked it out, her eyes were bright with excitement. “I saw Areop-Enap.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “That’s hard to tell. But she looks healthy; the horrible blisters and wounds are gone from her flesh.”

  “So all we have to do is to wake her,” Nicholas said. He looked at the Italian. “Have you any idea how to wake a hibernating Elder?”

  Machiavelli shook his head.

  “Mars, what about you? Any advice?”

  “Yes. Don’t.”

  Vegetarian, Billy decided. When all this excitement was over and done with, he was turning vegetarian. Vegan, actually. Nothing that crawled, walked, slithered or swam was going into his mouth ever again. Especially nothing with legs. Alcatraz was littered with monsters—or rather, parts of monsters. None were alive, and most of them he couldn’t even recognize.

  Billy had seen the results of buffalo kills, had walked battlefields and witnessed the aftermath of natural disasters of all kinds, but nothing could have prepared him for the carnage he now saw. He’d never had any doubt that releasing the monsters into the city was wrong. But seeing what they had done to one another made him shudder to think of the havoc they would have wrought on humans. The death toll would have been terrifying.

  The American immortal pressed his back against the side of the Administration Building and focused on his breathing. On the plus side, he realized, when they killed one another, they left one less creature for him or Black Hawk to deal with.

  He smelled the rich and familiar brine of the sea just as he heard claws scratching on the stones. He risked a quick glance around the corner. Through the billowing fog, he could see the Karkinos making its way up the incline toward the Warden’s House, using its huge claws—chelipeds, Billy reminded himself—to pull itself forward.

  And sitting on the back of the giant crab was Quetzalcoatl’s dog-headed twin brother. Xolotl was hammering on the crab’s head with his bony hand, kicking with his backwards feet, trying to make it go faster. But he was kicking with his toes rather than his heels, and it had absolutely no effect on the crab through its armored carapace.

  Billy started to twirl the lasso above his head. Black Hawk had told him to be careful—Black Hawk always told him to be careful—but the immortal had also said that if he saw a chance he should take it. And here was a chance. Billy eyed the makeshift lasso, wondering if it was long enough and deciding that even if it wasn’t, he was going to make the throw.

  Six feet away, Black Hawk slipped into position. He could just about make out Billy through the shifting bands of mist. He saw the fog curl in a circle as Billy started to twirl the lasso. All the outlaw had to do was to hook a leg and pull. If the Karkinos was off balance, he should be able to pull its legs out from under it. Then, while it floundered and scrambled to get back on its feet, Black Hawk was going to jump onto its back and hammer the spearhead into its body. He wasn’t sure whether his attack would have any effect, but it would certainly irritate the monster and maybe give those in the ruined house a few more minutes to awaken the Old Spider. He wasn’t as convinced as they were about the spider, though. In a battle between a spider and crab, he was betting on the hard-shelled big-pincered crab over the soft hairy spider.

  Black Hawk watched Billy move and immediately knew something was wrong. “Please, Billy, don’t do anything stupid,” he begged under his breath.

  Billy stepped right out in front of the giant crab.

  “Something like that,” Black Hawk muttered. Scrambling to his feet, all pretense at concealment forgotten, he ran toward his friend, tomahawk in one hand, spear in the other.

  Billy the Kid twirled the makeshift lasso, the leather whipping and snapping in the air, and stepped closer to the giant crab.

  “The leg, Billy! Catch the leg! Pull the leg!”

  But Black Hawk knew Billy was not going to catch the leg.

  The Karkinos’s eyes were fixed dead ahead, and Billy was only five foot eight. The crab was so tall that it hadn’t seen him. Black Hawk spotted Xolotl on top of the crab at the precise moment the skeletal El
der discovered Billy below.

  “Oh, Billy,” Black Hawk said in despair.

  Xolotl pounded on the crab’s head, trying to make it look down, but one of its forelegs slipped sideways and it crashed forward at an angle onto the ground, leaving its enormous eyes and gaping jaws directly in front of Billy. The immortal ignored the monster in his face. He was concentrating on the Elder on its back. Twirling the rope one final time, he released it.

  “He shoots …,” Billy called.

  The lasso dropped directly on top of Xolotl, slipping over the dog head and tangling in his bony ribs.

  “He scores!”

  Billy dug the heels of his boots into the earth and tugged hard. With a yelp, the Elder sailed off the top of the Karkinos.

  The huge crab caught a glimpse of movement, and its enormous right claw rose, opened and closed in a snap around the Elder and caught him in midair. It would have snapped a normal human in half, but it had caught the Elder around the waist, where there was no flesh, only bones, which fit neatly into the space between the crab’s claws.

  Enraged, Xolotl shrieked, demanding to be let down. He hammered and kicked at the creature, and the Karkinos opened its claw. The Elder crashed to the ground in a rattle of bones.

  The claw had also cut through the lasso. Billy tried to maintain his balance, but he tumbled and fell, and the remains of the leather rope encircled him like a writhing serpent.

  The giant crab’s gaze followed the movement of the rope, saw it drop onto the struggling immortal and snapped at him with its huge claw. Billy rolled to one side and the claw screamed across the ground.

  “Missed me!” he laughed.

  And then the Karkinos impaled the outlaw through the chest with its spiny armored foreleg, pinning him to the stones.

  Howling a savage war cry, Black Hawk flung himself at the Karkinos. His tomahawk screamed off its leg, and he jabbed again and again with the spear. The crab jerked its leg up, actually lifting the impaled Billy off the ground, and Black Hawk grabbed his friend and pulled him free, then bundled him in his arms and raced back toward the Warden’s House. “What did I tell you!” he shouted. “Be careful, I said. But did you listen? Oh no!”

  “I was careful,” Billy whispered. He was deathly pale and there was blood on his lips. “I was watching the claw. I didn’t know he was going to stand on me in some sort of crab-ninja move.”

  “Use your aura,” Black Hawk said. “Heal yourself quickly. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

  “Can’t,” Billy gasped. “Not enough aura left for a big wound like this. Shouldn’t have wasted it healing those scratches earlier.”

  “Let me heal you.”

  “No, you can’t. This isn’t some scratch. Besides, you have about as much of your aura as I do. Save it.”

  Something with massive teeth and wings hopped out of the night, attracted by the scent of Billy’s blood. Black Hawk ran right over it.

  “I got the skeleton guy, though, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “Guess I can’t go back to working for Quetzalcoatl, eh?”

  “When this is over, Billy,” Black Hawk said, “I think maybe you and I should go and visit the Feathered Serpent. Hand in our resignations. I’ll bring a box of matches.”

  “You going to toast some marshmallows with him?”

  “I’ll toast something,” Black Hawk promised. The house coalesced out of the fog and the immortal shouted, announcing their presence. “Mars, we’re back.” He didn’t want to be struck down by the Elder guarding the door.

  Mars stopped them at the entrance to the building and assessed Billy with a professional soldier’s eye. Then he resumed his position.

  “That’s not good, is it?” Billy asked. “It’s never good when they say nothing.”

  Black Hawk laid Billy on the ground inside. He ripped the outlaw’s sodden shirt apart to examine the wound beneath.

  “How bad is it? Will I ever play the piano again?” Billy joked.

  Machiavelli appeared and dropped to the floor beside the two Americans. Without a word, he pressed his palm to Billy’s chest, and his dirty-gray aura bloomed over his hand. It dripped onto the open wound like sour milk.

  “Smells like snake,” Billy mumbled, eyes unfocusing as he slumped into unconsciousness

  “I like snake,” the Italian muttered. Desperately, Machiavelli forced his aura through his hand into Billy’s wound. As he did, he visibly aged. Attempting to awaken Areop-Enap had exhausted him, etching new lines into his forehead, carving bags under his eyes. But with the strain of healing, now he actually grew old. His fuzz of hair turned the same color as his gray eyes and then drifted off his head like dust, leaving him totally bald. His spine curved, and deep wrinkles appeared on his forehead and at the corners of his nose, while his thin lips almost completely disappeared and brown spots suddenly speckled the backs of his hands.

  “Enough,” Black Hawk said. “You will burn yourself out.”

  “Let me give him just a little bit more,” he pleaded.

  “No!”

  “I have a little left. I can give it to him,” Machiavelli gasped.

  “No,” Black Hawk insisted. “If you use any more, there will be nothing left for you.” He gently lifted Machiavelli’s hand. “Enough. Or you will burst into flames. You have done more than anyone could, more than I could. It is out of our hands now. Now he will live or die: it is up to him. And he is Billy the Kid. He will survive.” The immortal suddenly reached out and caught Machiavelli’s hand. He squeezed tightly. “Whatever happens: you have made a lifelong friend here tonight, Italian. Two, if Billy lives.”

  “Three,” Mars said from the doorway, saluting Machiavelli with his sword. He smiled. “This is what I have always loved about you humans. You are essentially good.”

  “Not everyone,” Machiavelli said tiredly.

  “No. Not everyone. But enough.” Mars turned back to the doorway and settled into his battle stance. “The Karkinos is back,” he announced. “And I do believe it is growing!” He suddenly threw himself back into the room. “Down!” he shouted.

  An enormous claw ripped a chunk out of the side of the building. A second claw tore out the steel girders that supported the walls, snipping them apart as if they were made of straw. The Karkinos loomed over the open roof and peered down. It had doubled in size, and then doubled again in the few minutes since Black Hawk had snatched Billy from its claws.

  “It’s eaten Xolotl,” Mars said. “That’s why it’s grown.” He rolled to one side as another section of the wall was pulled down. “I’ve seen this happen before. Elder flesh works wonders on their systems, making them huge. And once they get a taste for Elder flesh, nothing else will satisfy them. It’s probably after me now.” Then, when the creature ignored him, he added, “Or not …” Two huge claws reached over the top of the building and punched into the hardened mud surrounding Areop-Enap. They found the hole the Flamels and Machiavelli had carved and went straight for it, snipping at the opening, enlarging it, ripping it apart.

  “It’s after Areop-Enap!” Perenelle screamed.

  “We have to protect the Old Spider. If it eats her and absorbs her energy, it will be indestructible,” Mars shouted. “Nothing—not even a Great Elder—will be able to stop it.

  Perenelle quickly raised her arm, but she had barely any power left. A handful of cold energy washed over the crab. It didn’t even notice.

  Mars threw himself at the Karkinos, his sword buzzing and whirling around him. The metal blade screamed off the creature’s armored legs. He stabbed deep into the joints, trying to knock it over.

  “Protect Billy,” Black Hawk commanded the Italian. He crawled beneath the creature, then rose to stab at it with his spear. The crab reared up on its four hind legs while flailing the front four wildly. Its two giant claws snapped and clashed.

  Black Hawk stabbed again, pushing the spear deep into the monster’s flesh. The crab twisted away at the last moment, dragging the imm
ortal up into the air with it. Black Hawk clung tightly to the spear shaft as the Karkinos’s front claws click-clacked inches from his head. And then one flailing leg caught a belt loop on the immortal’s jeans. Dangling in midair, the American thrashed and twisted to get loose. Cloth tore, but the crab flicked its leg out and Black Hawk went sailing out over the wall. A moment later there was a splash as he hit the sea.

  And they all knew the Nereids were waiting in the water.

  The giant crab dropped back onto the ball of mud and resumed ripping it apart. Flamel threw spears of green light at the creature, and Perenelle washed it with ice and fire. But all to no effect.

  “You’ve got to awaken the Old Spider!” Mars shouted.

  Nicholas threw himself into the shell. Karkinos had torn away the outer layer of protective mud, revealing a second muddy ball within. This thin crust covered the enormous hairy form of the Areop-Enap, the Old Spider.

  “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Flamel’s hands pounded on the shell, leaving pale green impressions on the coating of hardened saliva. “Nothing’s happening,” he said desperately. He had seen the crab punch through the outer shell with ease; it would have no difficulty shattering this inner crust.

  And then Mars’s aura blazed bright, filling the ruined building with crimson light, and the air was rich with the stench of burnt meat.

  The Karkinos hesitated, huge claws trembling.

  “Smell that,” Mars shouted. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” The Elder blazed brighter and brighter, bloodred armor flowing over his body and a metal helm appearing on his head, turning him into the ferocious warrior of legend. Sticky streamers of light blazed off his body. The Karkinos’s mouth went into a frenzy trying to taste the energy.

  Mars lowered his sword, then sheathed it. He walked up to the creature. “Here I am, beastie. Smell that—it is the scent of an Elder. You want some, don’t you? Well, here I am.”

  “Mars, no!” Flamel shouted.

  “Mars, you have to stop!” Perenelle shouted. “Stop it now.”