The song grew louder, stronger, and he could just about make out the words. Its message was one of peace and serenity, and it was sung in a language that even the Stymphalia could understand. Where the sky had once been filled with winged death, it was now suddenly clear, the razor birds darting into the distant shadows of the cavern, convinced to be elsewhere. Conan Doyle could still hear their screeching cries, but they were far away now.
And though the threat had been dispersed, the song continued to fill the air and Conan Doyle watched as Nigel Gull, singing out gloriously in the voice of Orpheus, approached, his Wicked following like obedient dogs at his heels.
'Hello, Arthur,' Gull said. He could not help but smile. To see Conan Doyle so helpless, it was absolutely priceless.
'Nigel. I suppose we owe you a bit of thanks.'
Gull waved his words away. 'Not at all, old friend. You were in a fix, and I was happy to oblige. Would you not do the same for me?'
'Of course they would have,' Hawkins agreed.
Jezebel giggled, biting at a fingernail with her dainty mouth.
Conan Doyle remained silent, ignoring the commentary, and turned to check the condition of his people. Despite his words, Gull wondered if the man would have left him and his operatives to the mercies of the razor birds had the situation been reversed. For in truth he would not himself have bothered with saving Sir Arthur and his Menagerie if he did not still need something from them. He would have quite enjoyed watching them all die horribly.
Gull watched as Conan Doyle took Ceridwen from Eve’s arms and laid her upon the ground. He caught the demon boy watching him with a steely, untrusting gaze. This is one to watch, Gull thought, returning his attentions to Doyle and his lover.
'What seems to be the problem?' he asked with an attempt at concern. It was so difficult to muster.
'Nothing that leaving this place won’t cure,' Conan Doyle said as he rose from Ceridwen’s side and stalked toward Gull. 'Why are you here, Nigel? What purpose could you possibly have in this damnable place?'
Hawkins chuckled as he moved to stand beside his employer. 'The old man knows you well, sir,' he said with a sneer. 'Type of bloke thinks he’s smarter than all the rest. Two steps ahead of everyone else.'
Conan Doyle barely acknowledged the silver-haired man, his eyes boring into Gull. 'Why?' he asked again.
Nigel gazed around at the black, gnarled trees that grew sparsely across the charcoal gray earth of this place. There were other landscapes here — the terrain changed almost constantly as one traveled through the Underworld — but this place was almost pretty in comparison. 'There is something I need, here. Something that will help me gain a prize I’ve long been denied.'
Conan Doyle laughed disdainfully and it took all the self-control that Gull could muster to not slap the condescending smirk from his face.
'What is it now, Nigel?' the mage asked. 'What forbidden treasure has tempted you beyond the limits of rational thinking this time?'
Gull wanted to tell him. To explain that there was no ancient book or scroll, or object of power to sell to the highest bidder. Instead, he swallowed painfully, the dry air of the Underworld making his throat ache, and stepped closer to the man who had insulted him so.
'Matters of the heart, dear boy,' he whispered, leaning forward slightly so that Conan Doyle was sure to hear. 'Matters of the heart.'
Conan Doyle’s face screwed up in confusion, and Gull was certain that the infuriating man wanted to know more, but Gull’s patience was gone and they had to move on.
'What the devil are you talking about man, matters of the…'
Gull raised a misshapen hand to silence him. 'I’ve said enough and wasted too much time with you.' He scanned the skies of the forbidden world. 'In case you haven’t noticed, this can be quite a dangerous place, and to stay put for too long can mean your demise.'
His stare locked with Conan Doyle’s. 'We have to leave.'
'And where are we going?' his adversary asked grimly, straightening his jacket as though he could look presentable down in this ancient hell.
Gull cleared his throat, preparing to once again sing. 'You’re not going anywhere. I require only Eve.'
Alarm flashed in Conan Doyle’s eyes and a crackle of golden light flared from his fingertips, but Gull would have no such resistance. He sang out a single note in the voice of Orpheus, freezing the Menagerie where they stood. Conan Doyle gritted his teeth, attempting to fight the paralyzing command of that song, but to no avail.
Gull paused to rest his vocal cords, gesturing toward Eve. 'This way, dear lady. We have an appointment with the Erinyes.'
Hatred burning in her eyes, fighting the movement of every muscle, Eve stepped away from her friends.
'I’ll kill you for this, you know,' she hissed, showing Nigel her fangs, and he sang several soft notes that sapped away all her aggression.
I’m sure you would, he thought. But I’m not fool enough to give you the chance.
Then he looked at Jezebel and Hawkins. 'Take her,' he ordered. The girl took one arm, and the man the other and they led Eve away. Gull returned his attentions to Conan Doyle and the remainder of his team. 'I want to say a proper good-bye.'
'Will you kill us, Nigel?' Conan Doyle asked, swaying on his feet, still under the sway of the Orpheus song. Ceridwen moaned on the ground behind him, the demon boy kneeling by her side.
'What do you take me for?' Gull asked, feigning horror. 'We have far too much history for that.' Again, he looked to the dark, ocher skies of the Underworld, and filling his lungs, sang out a lilting verse, long and powerful. A song of summoning. 'I cannot kill you, Arthur, but this place…'
Gull cocked his head, listening for a particular sound and found it. It was the sound of flapping wings far off in the distance — but growing closer.
He smiled, turned on his heel, and left them to die.
CHAPTER TEN
Squire scurried along the shadowpaths.
To others it was only darkness, but to the hobgoblin it was a vast network of tunnels leading to any place on the planet, and even beyond, where the slimmest touch of shadow was the means to travel great distances. All shadows were connected, and Squire knew their secrets well. He jogged through the dark, instinct guiding him toward his destination.
In his mind, he began to review the list of items Clay had asked him to bring from the brownstone. He stopped for a moment, removing the bundled titanium netting from his shoulder and dropping it to the shadowpath. 'Let’s see,' he grumbled. 'Got the netting, of course. Can’t catch a beastie without a good net.'
He picked up a small box and opened it to reveal a clear, glass vial. He took the container from its case and admired the milky fluid inside. A whole lot of South American tree frogs gave up their skin to produce this bottle o’ bad business. Should knock’er on her ass.
The hobgoblin put the narcotic back into its protective case and turned his attentions to the tranquilizer rifle. Normally he would have preferred weapons with a more archaic flavor — knives, swords, crossbows, axes — but in this case he was willing to bend a bit. From what he could see, the rifle was in good working order and he slipped it back under the netting until it was needed.
Then he caught sight of the brightly colored Skittles package. 'There you are,' he said with an enormous grin, snatching up the package of candy. 'Come to Papa.' He tore open the package with his teeth, tilted his head back and dumped most of the candies into his open maw.
'Oh that’s good,' he grumbled, as the multiple flavors exploded in his mouth. 'It’s been too long.' He tried to remember the last time he had satisfied his nasty sweet tooth. Close to two days, probably a record.
