Ghost Light

The zombie slung The Piper into a fireman’s carry and jumped into the fissure.  A red glow lit the faerie’s face.  The Piper looked at me in supplication, but in a flash of light he was gone.  I crawled forward, but in a puff of brimstone the chasm closed, the earth swallowing the two men whole.

I coughed and sat back on my heels.  Well, that was one problem solved.  I was pretty sure The Piper wouldn’t be stealing any more children.  It seemed poetic that the man who made a deal with a demon to collect and condemn the souls of children to an eternity in Hell should now join those souls.

But The Piper’s trip to Hell didn’t mean the end of the devilry.  I had to make sure the demon flute didn’t fall into the wrong hands.  I crawled back and forth searching the ground for the demon flute, but to no avail. It was gone.  All that was left was a patch of scorched earth where I’d last seen The Piper and his flute.  Perhaps the instrument had also been carried to Hell, returned to the forge where it had been wrought.

I pulled myself to my feet, brushing clumps of grave dirt off my jeans, and gave myself a moment to catch my breath.  I let my head fall back to look at the night sky, a slow smile forming on my lips.  We’d done it.  The Piper and his evil Danse Macabre had been stopped.  The children were safe.

I turned an ecstatic smile to Marvin.  His sudden appearance and ingenious use of a pixie nest had made The Piper’s defeat possible.  If the kid was standing closer, I’d give him a high-five.  Coming from me, that was high praise.

Marvin began to smile and wave, but his large hand halted in mid-motion.  His eyes widened and the skin at my neck prickled.

“Ivy, look out!” Marvin screamed.

I spun in time to see the fight between Melusine and Ceff steamrollering toward me.  I dove aside, out of their path.  I continued rolling to my right, narrowly avoiding the lamia’s lashing tail.  The two were locked in heated battle, and Ceff was losing.

I gasped and came up into a fighting crouch.  Heart racing, I looked for an opportunity to join the fight.  But Melusine and Ceff’s bodies were pressed close together and moving fast.  If I threw my knife, I’d risk hitting Ceff.

Melusine lunged toward Ceff’s head and he struggled to take a step back and duck out of reach.  Melusine didn’t even appear winded, but even over the earplugs I could hear Ceff’s breath coming hard and ragged.  His clothes were torn and bloodied, the shirt he wore mere tattered scraps of fabric.  Ceff was obviously still suffering from the effects of iron poisoning, which put him at a disadvantage.  At the last moment it became apparent that the lunge toward Ceff’s head was just a feint, but it was too late.

Ceff’s reflexes were fast, but Melusine was faster.  Melusine halted the forward motion of her lunge with a jerk and swung her tail out in a foot sweep.  The move took Ceff off his feet, using his momentum against him.  Ceff tumbled painfully onto his back, hitting his head and knocking the air from his lungs.  I tensed, still looking for an opening.

Melusine slithered atop Ceff, arms astride his shoulders.  She sniffed along his body, venomous fangs inches from his skin.  Her lips formed a cruel smile and she lifted one of her arms to retrieve a knife from behind her head.  Her hair tumbled down to brush Ceff’s face and neck.  The bitch had kept the knife hidden in her hair.

Ceff’s trident had fallen from his hand and he didn’t move a muscle to defend himself.  I studied Ceff’s face, but his eyelids remained shut.  His chest rose and fell slightly—he was alive—but the blow to his head must have knocked him unconscious.

“If you will not love me, then you shall pay,” she said.  “Goodbye, husband.”

Melusine held the blade above Ceff’s chest and licked her lips.  Carving her ex-husband’s still-beating heart from his chest was evidently Melusine’s twisted version of justice—a heart for a heart.  No way was I going to let that happen.

I sprinted forward, dagger in one hand, throwing knife in the other, and launched myself onto Melusine’s back.  She reared up, arching her back, trying to reach me with her blade.  I wrapped an arm around her neck and slipped my throwing knife back into its forearm sheath in an effort to keep my hold on the thrashing lamia.  I dug my left hand into her hair and held on tight.

I maintained my grip on the dagger, but it wasn’t easy.  Something cold and scaly brushed against my skin where the sleeve of my jacket had pulled away from my glove, leaving my wrist exposed.  A vision of a mouse being dangled from Melusine’s fingertips as a tasty treat intruded into my mind, but I kept my arm bent in a choke hold and held onto the dagger at her throat.

Melusine’s pet snake had joined my arm around her neck.  The good news was that snake brains don’t make for very intense visions.  I’d managed to maintain my choke hold through the minor vision.  The bad news?  Melusine’s pet was a venomous pit viper.