The First Dragon(46)
“Hello, Rose,” he said, simply and plainly. “I’ve come a very long way to find you, girl.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Kipling looked up at the ornate sculpture standing at the intersection and sighed heavily. It was exactly where the note said it would be—which meant that any moment now . . .
His jaw dropped open as the Cherubim approached. He had not realized, had not understood until this moment, that he knew this angel—not in the same form, but close enough to be familiar. Close enough to recognize.
Close enough to feel regret, even as he stepped out into the street to do what he knew he must.
The Cherubim stopped, momentarily distracted by the markings that were still on Kipling’s forehead.
“You are not of the Host,” the angel said, confused. “Are you of one of the principalities?”
“I’m sorry,” Kipling said, and without a pause, he began to recite the words on the note, beginning with the true name of the angel before him.
It took only a few minutes to complete his task, and when he was done, the Cherubim walked away, slightly dazed, to the spot three blocks away where he would be confronted by someone else, who would repeat almost the same process Kipling had performed. Just the thought of it made Kipling sick to his stomach, and he turned and vomited against a wall. Then he walked to one of the towers, away from the destruction being done by the Watchers and their children, and found a nice fountain to sit beside, and silently, he wept.
. . . his reflection was no longer that of a young man . . .
Chapter FOURTEEN
The First Dragon
The reunion was joyful, but brief. Rose hugged her father in astonishment as both badgers jumped gleefully on Charles, and Edmund wrapped Laura Glue in a passionate embrace, which he punctuated with a long kiss.
“I say,” Quixote chuckled, “this is like witnessing the best ending to a fairy tale you never expected to finish.”
“First things first,” Charles said. “There’s a lot happening that we need to tell you about.”
“Like the flood about t’ destroy the world?” asked Uncas. “We’re on top of that.”
“That isn’t the most urgent business,” said Fred. “Rose is.”
“Me?” Rose asked. “What do you mean?”
“That,” Madoc said, pointing to her shadow. “It isn’t yours, Rose! The Echthroi have been following you everywhere!”
At the mention of Echthroi all the angels stopped, and their eyes glowed. “She is Fallen?” one of them asked, fearful. “There is a Fallen among us?”
“Not her,” Fred said, moving defensively in front of Rose. “Just her shadow—which isn’t hers.”
Rose spun about to look and was horrified to see that her shadow did not turn with her. Instead it seemed to thicken, rising up and growing larger and larger, until . . .
A hand reached out to the wall and grasped the shadow.
“I’m sorry,” the star Sol said to Rose. “I’m afraid this will hurt.” He pulled, and ripped the shadow free from her with a single motion. Rose screamed and fell backward as her father leaped forward to catch her.
As if sensing its imminent end, the shadow thrashed about frantically, but Sol simply held it, watching.
“There can be no shadows without light,” he said plainly. “So as there are shadows here, so let there be light.” He flared, bright and brief, and the companions had to shield their eyes. When they could again see, the shadow was gone.
♦ ♦ ♦
A few streets away, closer to the center of the city, Dr. Dee screamed and dropped to his knees. His primary link with this time and place had suddenly been severed, and the loss was taking a sudden and vicious toll.
He focused on breathing deeply and slowly, and in a few moments, he regained much of his strength, if not his composure. If the shadow—which had been Lovecraft’s—had been destroyed, then he had enemies other than Kipling wandering through the City of Jade. But Kipling was still bound hand and foot in Hermes Trismegistus’s study, and Dee knew from the Histories of the Caretakers that he would perish in the cataclysm, so it had to be someone else who’d destroyed the shadow.
No matter, Dee thought. He had what he came to the city to find. This had been the last moment in history where angels could be found walking the same streets as men—and now one of them had been bound to serve Dee.
Bound to serve the Echthroi.
Smiling wryly, Dee removed the black pocket watch he wore and spun the dials. An instant later, he was gone.
♦ ♦ ♦
Rose looked down at her feet and exhaled, relieved. Her own shadow had returned.