demon.
“It’ll come for us soon,” I pant.
Almost at once the sound of clopping hoofs, getting louder, shakes the foundations of the chateau.
“We can’t leave Konrad behind with that thing!” I cry.
“I’m not sure we can destroy it,” says Henry. “But I’m willing to fight it to the end.”
“No. It heals itself,” says Konrad, wincing with pain. “We can’t kill it.”
I look at his arm and see that the eerie black line has spread in a series of spider veins.
“Then, we need to open the house!” I say impulsively. “A door! A window!”
“What about the evil spirit outside?” Henry asks, startled.
“It might help us. Whatever it is, it’s no friend of the pit demon’s,” I say.
“Or Wilhelm Frankenstein’s,” Elizabeth adds. “I think that mist might be the gatherers, trying to get inside all along.”
“Are you sure?” Henry asks.
“I’m sure of nothing,” she says. “But going out may be Konrad’s only chance of escape.”
“And I’m not leaving,” I say, “until I’m sure he’s safe from that thing.”
We reach the top of the stairs, and Henry suddenly falters, putting a hand to his chest.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The spirit clock,” he says in shock, pulling it from his breast pocket. “So soon?”
I can see it vibrating as the fetal sparrow limb beats urgently at the glass, and then I whirl to see the reeking, churning shape of the pit demon at the base of the staircase. Its claws are completely intact. It takes the steps three at a time on its hoofed feet.
Down the hallway toward my bedchamber we charge.
“We’ll throw open the balcony window in my room,” I say. “Let in whatever wants to come in!”
We burst through the doorway. I know instantly where my body lies in the real world, and I want more than anything to lie down, to return. But not before we open the window. I stride toward it and hear Elizabeth give a shriek of surprise, and From behind the door Wilhelm Frankenstein lunges, knocking me over. My saber and dagger fly from my hands. We crash to the floor, him atop me. I punch and kick to drive him off, but he is single-minded, crazed by his three hundred years of captivity, and he swiftly seizes my hand and wrenches the ring from my finger.
“Give it to me!” shouts Henry, striding toward Wilhelm. My friend’s face is fiercely ablaze, and his arms are spread to radiate his light and heat.
Wilhelm staggers back, and just as Henry is about to lay his searing hand upon him and grasp my ring, Wilhelm throws it. It sails high over all our heads and out the door of the bedchamber. I hear its clink as it hits the stone, and the thin metallic sound of it rolling farther down the hallway.
I don’t think. I run madly after it, see its sparkle as it comes to a halt, and then see the pit demon’s insect- infested hoof stamp down before it. I slowly look up. The demon towers above me. With one clawed hand it reaches down and picks up my ring.
I feel Henry’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Henry-” I begin to say.
But he is already advancing on the giant, crying, “Get back, get back!” But he never reaches it, for a torrent of butterflies comes at Henry, and even as he struggles against it, slashing with his sword, I see the butterflies flaring with color as they drain him. With every valiant step Henry weakens.
But Elizabeth rushes forward, and before the pit demon can fall back, she swings her sword with both hands at its leg. Her blow has such force that she can’t wrench the sword free from the demon’s churning flesh. It roars from the vast serrated gash of its mouth, and more noxious fumes boil from its wound.
Suddenly Konrad is at my side, pressing my sword back into my hand, and we strike at the thing’s torso, as high as we can reach, again and again. I can see my ring glinting in its clawed fist, and I try to sever its hand, but it keeps it out of my reach.
I give a cry of triumph as the pit demon’s wounded leg buckles and cracks at the point of its wound, the two halves of its leg held together with only ghastly sinew and the efforts of writhing butterfly wings.
Once again hope swells within me. Maybe we truly can destroy this foul thing. I look over to see Elizabeth and Henry both trying to fight off the black butterflies that now cover them, bleeding them of their lives.
“Your light!” Konrad calls in anguish to Elizabeth over his shoulder.
And then I can no longer see her light, nor Henry’s, for the butterflies have done their devilish work and return to their master with bloated colorful bodies. They fly to his wounded leg, and as their own bodies become black once more, new energy seeps into the pit demon. He stands tall, his leg freakishly refused.
With one claw the pit demon slashes a black gash across Konrad’s chest, and before I can rush to his aid, the monster swats at me as though I were no more than a dog. I fly back and hit the ground.
“Konrad!” I cry out.
Elizabeth and Henry are helping drag Konrad’s limp form back as the pit demon advances slowly down the hallway. He is a nightmare drawn with black lightning.
We have no more light, no heat left to fight this thing.
And precious little life. As I stagger to my feet to help the others, I feel dizzy with weakness. I hear my pulse in my ears, tapping like the faltering alarm of the spirit clock. In the real world our bodies are dying.
“We need to return,” Henry gasps when I reach him.
“I can’t return without my talisman,” I wheeze. “Get to the bedchamber! Open the windows!”
With a roar I rush at the pit demon, eyes locked on the clawed hand that clutches my ring. I aim for its wrist but never even get to swing my sword, for once more the monster swats me and I sail back, my sword spinning from my hand and clattering along the floor.
At that moment Wilhelm Frankenstein bursts from my room, pushing past Henry, and snatches up my sword.
“Where’s your talisman?” he roars, running at me.
“I don’t have it!” I shout back.
For a moment I think he is about to impale me, but a torrent of butterflies intercepts him and drives him back against the wall, pinning him, helpless. He turns to look at the pit demon, and on Wilhelm’s face now-that fine, smug face that gazed down at me from its portrait-is pure terror. He stares at the pit demon, and to my amazement the pit demon stares back, suddenly motionless.
And I understand instinctively that there is a history between these two that goes back centuries. Wilhelm was the one to first wake it, to suckle its butterflies and use their bounteous powers, to promise the pit demon in some perhaps unspoken way that it would rise again.
Terrible noises emerge from the pit demon’s throat, that same brutal language I heard earlier. I turn to look at Wilhelm, and see a black butterfly crawl into each of his ears-not to stopper them, I realize, but to translate.
“I had no intention of abandoning you!” Wilhelm cries. “I was going to return!”
At this, a violent gale of noise explodes from the pit demon.
Wilhelm persists. “I was going to bring back a new body for you, one made from your very own flesh. They have found your bones!”
For a moment the pit demon is silent, as though considering, its body a quivering mass of insect limbs and antennae and pointy wing tips. Then it lunges. I throw myself from its path, as do Elizabeth and Henry, dragging Konrad’s limp body with them. The monster lands in front of Wilhelm Frankenstein. It takes him in its two clawed hands and lifts him off the floor.
For the first time the butterflies around the pit demon’s head disperse completely, and I can see it truly has no other features but a diagonal gash that spans its jutting, low-browed skull. It opens wide, and its teeth sink into Wilhelm’s head, biting it clear in half even as he screams. It then proceeds with terrifying speed to cram the flailing body into its enormous serrated mouth, devouring Wilhelm utterly.
All my resolve fails me.
It consumed Wilhelm. Can it consume Konrad-perhaps all of us without our light and heat?
“Hurry!” I bellow to the others. “Open the windows!”
Instantly the demon’s head turns to Elizabeth and Henry as they wearily drag Konrad into my bedchamber.
