Magic Burns(54)

“There is an entrance up ahead.” The vamp scuttled north, toward Baker Street. The sun chose that moment to strip off a small cloud, filling the world with golden sunshine and setting the vamp’s wrinkled purple hide aglow.

“There is just something so wrong about this,” I mumbled.

Derek answered with a light growl.

I trudged along the green wall. The air smelled of flowers. Birds chirped.

The greenery dipped. A narrow path burrowed into the green, twisting to the left, like a dim tunnel to the heart of the wood.

Derek raised his nose and inhaled deeply in the manner of the shapeshifters. “Water.”

I strained to recall the layout of the park. Baker Street wasn’t that far. “Must be the Water Gardens.”

The tunnel lay waiting, like an open mouth. Ghastek’s vamp edged closer to it. Derek and I dismounted and tied our horses to a twisted rhododendron. I looked into the tunnel. No time like the present.

“Any ideas on how to approach this?” I asked the vamp.

“None whatsoever,” Ghastek said.

I sighed and ducked into the tunnel.





Chapter 15




I had conquered the first ten feet of the path when the magic hit. It rocked me like a shotgun blast. My breath escaped my lungs in a startled cry, my heart squeezed itself into a hard fist, and I bent over, cradling my chest. The pain released me in a heady rush of power that spread through my arteries, into my veins, into the vessels, into the capillaries, until my whole body tingled with magic. The exhilaration claimed me and lifted me up, as if two wings had thrust from my back.

Around me, deep within the green, flowers opened, glowing stars of white and pale purple. The branches rustled. The vines slithered. An amalgam of scents spiced the air: sweet and honeyed, reminiscent of a rose.

Derek padded out of the green gloom, silent and stealthy on velvet feet and looked at me with wolf eyes from a human face. I fought an involuntary shiver.

The vampire crouched on the side of the path, snug against the greenery, shivering, head tucked to its chest.

The bloodsucker raised its head. Its eyes burned bright red. The vamp mouth opened but no sound issued forth. It showed me its fangs, two yellowed killing teeth. I showed it my saber. I only have one tooth, but it’s a lot longer than yours and it will turn the stringy meat on your bones into pus.

“No need for alarm,” Ghastek said. “He’s quite docile.”

The vampire slunk from the path, arched its back, and brushed against my leg.

It took every shred of nerve not to recoil. “If you do that again, I’ll kill it.”

“I was always curious about your aversion to the undead. What is it that upsets you so much?”

“A vampire is a walking corpse. It oozes undeath that makes the living want to vomit, it has no mind, and left to its own devices it would slaughter until there was nothing left to kill. And then it would cannibalize itself. What’s there to like, Ghastek?”

And most of all, Roland had made them. They were his creation.

“Their usefulness far outweighs their few shortcomings,” Ghastek said.

I motioned with my saber. “In that case, please go first. Let’s benefit from some of that usefulness.”

Ghastek took the lead, and we went down the path, single file, vampire, a man on the verge of becoming a beast, and me, bringing up the rear.

The canopy dipped so low, I had to nearly crouch. I scooted through, the twigs snatching at my braid, and finally emerged into the clearing.

Tall pines rose straight and smooth like the masts of a gargantuan underground ship. Their branches stretched to each other, filtering the light, muting the sun to a pleasant green gloom. The ground was thick with decades of autumn, and spongy pine needles gave lightly under my weight. The air smelled of moisture. A gentle murmur of water spilling over man-made waterfalls emanated from the left.

The vamp leaped onto the nearest pine and perched twelve feet off the ground, its body nearly perpendicular to the pine’s trunk.

“Two o’clock,” Derek whispered.

Beyond the pines lay a sunlit glade, sectioned by neat rows of herbs. Between us and the glade stood a woman.

She was on the heavy side, built solid and thick, but without flab. A plain black dress hung off her shoulders, its hem brushing the ground. Her thick arms matched the color of the pine straw. A mask of beaten iron hid her features, a round stylized face with thick locks of hair radiating from it like the sun’s corona. On second glance, those weren’t sun rays. Sun rays didn’t come with scales and fanged mouths.

A Gorgon Medusa mask. My quip about Medusas in the Honeycomb Gap was coming true. Me and my big mouth. Next time I would imagine a warehouse full of fluffy bunnies instead.