been reloading. She didn’t have time to take it out. Hoping the weapon would not blow up in her hands, she aimed and pulled the trigger. The recoil knocked her sideways. The long wooden rod flew out of the musket and drove like a spear through the demon’s back.
Blood spewing, the demon fell to the deck and this time did not get up. Miri ran to Dag. He was in a daze, his eyes wide and unseeing. The reddish smoke was starting to dissipate, shredded by the gusting winds, but she caught a whiff and tasted the bitter flavor of what might have been some sort of opiate. She cried Dag’s name and flung her arms around him, pleading with him to come back to her. She felt a shudder go through his body and then he blinked and looked up at her. He seemed about to say something when a wail of terror and a frantic shout came from below.
“The demon Stephano shot went down into the hold!” Dag said. “Are any of the guns loaded?”
“Two,” said Miri, pointing to the pistol in her belt and another lying on the deck. She drew the pistol from her belt and handed it to Dag.
“I’m going below. You stay here. If one of those fiends lands on the boat, shoot it.”
He disappeared down into the hold, leaving Miri alone on the deck. Several bats without riders flew around the Cloud Hopper. They screeched at her, but didn’t attack. She picked up the pistol and looked down over the rail at the cutter. Demons had boarded it, as well. Captain and crew were fighting them off.
Three demon riders were still in the air. Miri kept a watch on them and gripped the pistol in her hands. She tried to find Stephano and the dragon. She had lost track of him during the battle, and now they were nowhere in sight.
Three more demons, armed with the green-fire cannons, flew toward the Cloud Hopper. Miri heard yelling and shouts coming from below and her sister’s terrified screams and then green fire dazzled her eyes. She felt the heat of the flames wash over her, and she flung open the hatch and dove through it, shutting it behind her as the green fireballs burst on the Cloud Hopper.
The dragon was pulling out of his dive after Stephano had shot the commander when suddenly Droalfrig lifted his head and roared out his brother’s name. He made a steep, arcing turn that forced Stephano to fling his arms around the dragon’s neck and hold on tightly.
“Droal!” Stephano yelled. “Don’t throw me off!”
“Sorry, Captain,” Droal returned. “Forgot.”
Stephano waited for his stomach to resume its proper place in his body, then asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Brother Hroalfrig, sir! Demons! Attacking the abbey!”
Stephano could now see another dragon, flying over the spires of the cathedral, valiantly fighting off a horde of demons. Splotches of green fire burst in the air around the dragon. Smoke coiled into the air.
“I have to go to him, sir,” Droal yelled. “Should I set you down?”
Stephano looked back at the Cloud Hopper. Dead demons lay sprawled on the deck. Dag and Miri appeared to have killed the boarders. He didn’t see any other demons and he was worried about the nuns in the abbey. He turned back to the dragon.
“I’ll come with you!” Stephano shouted.
If he had waited a moment, Stephano would have seen that the demons lying dead on deck weren’t all that dead. Droal spread his wings and took off with such speed that Stephano had to flatten himself against the dragon’s neck to avoid being swept off. He didn’t have time to look back at his friends.
“Is anyone at the abbey helping the nuns?” Stephano yelled.
“Nuns dead,” said Droalfrig grimly. “Demons slaughtered them. Days ago.”
Stephano was shocked. The demons might have killed the abbey’s nuns days ago, but the fiends had not finished their horrible work, apparently, for they had returned to complete the abbey’s destruction. Was the Fallen One sending his minions to launch an all-out war on those who served God?
Stephano looked over his shoulder again to see the Cloud Hopper was still afloat and no longer under attack. The deck was empty, however. Dag and Miri were both absent, and that was worrisome. Dag would not leave the deck with a battle still raging. Perhaps they had gone below to be with Gythe.
“I should go back…”
“Brother Hroal not quite fit, Captain,” said Droalfrig. “Bad leg. Explosion. Too much to ask, I know. If you could help…”
Stephano could see the dragon’s brother being surrounded by bats, diving and swooping at him, attacking from all sides. The Cloud Hopper appeared secure.
“Let’s go help Hroal,” Stephano said.
Gythe was very ill and Rodrigo had no idea how the magic was harming her. He carried her to the small cabin below deck she shared with Miri, placed her in her bed, which was built into the bulkheads, and wrapped her warmly in blankets. He fetched water and moistened her lips and cooled her feverish skin.
That was all he could do. He sat beside her and watched her moan and shiver. Her body twitched painfully every time a blast of green fire struck the ship. He washed away the blood when it began to trickle from her mouth.
He wondered what was happening. Looking out the porthole, all he could see was smoke. All he could hear was the sound of gunfire coming from above and the enraged howls of Doctor Ellington, in the storage closet. The cat was so frantic that he began hurling himself at the door, beating on it with his large paws.
Fearing the good Doctor would hurt himself and feeling the need of company, Rodrigo freed the cat, who shot out of the closet as though his tail was on fire. The frantic cat evaded Rodrigo’s grab and ran straight to Gythe. Doctor Ellington jumped into bed with her and began licking her face.
Gythe flung her arms around the cat, moaned and held him close, and began singing to him, as she often did. Her voice was raw and shrill and discordant. Doctor Ellington gave her hand a swipe with his tongue.
Rodrigo and the cat both jumped at the loud report of a pistol going off near the hatchway. The gun shot was followed by a loud thudding sound, as though someone large was tumbling down the stairs. Rodrigo froze, terrified, waiting for the sound of footsteps, but nothing happened.
He opened the door a crack and called out, “Dag? Is that you?”
No answer. Rodrigo called again, “Miri? Did you fall? Are you all right?”
Still no answer. Drawing in a deep breath, Rodrigo grabbed hold of a hairbrush to use as a weapon and ventured out to see what had happened. He was unpleasantly amazed to find a demon lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs.
Rodrigo was just thinking he was going to be sick when reddish smoke began to waft from the corpse. He caught a whiff and was immediately transported back to his wild days at University when he’d once rashly agreed to visit an opium den. Already nauseous, he covered his nose and mouth. Not knowing what else to do, he seized a blanket and flung it over the smoldering demon, as one might fling a blanket over a fire. He ran back to Gythe’s cabin, shut the door, locked it, and then stuffed blankets in the crack to keep the noxious fumes from seeping inside.
He was about to cast a spell of protection on the door and then he remembered the green fire eating away Gythe’s protective spells.
“Why waste my time?” Rodrigo sat down nervously on the end of the bed and addressed himself to the cat. “The demon is dead.” He then added, as an afterthought, “But it’s a demon. Demons can’t die. Can they?”
He brooded over this a moment and tried to reassure himself. “That thing has a great bloody hole in its back. There’s blood all over the deck. Of course, it’s dead. You agree with me on this, don’t you, Doctor?”
The cat appeared to be about to express his opinion when their conversation was interrupted by the sound of claws scrapping over the wooden deck. Rodrigo prayed he was imagining things or that it was Dag or Miri coming down to tell him the fight was over and they were all safe. He could see that his prayers weren’t going to be answered. The cat was staring, wide-eyed, at the door.
“Oh, God!” Rodrigo whispered, rising to his feet.
He tried to shout for help, but his mouth was so dry that nothing came out. He coughed, moistened his lips, and was about to yell again, when a wailing scream from Gythe almost made him leap out the porthole. She had backed into the corner, clutching the blankets around her, whimpering in terror.
Rodrigo found his voice. “Help! I need some help down here!”
The sounds of clawed feet walking on the deck drew nearer. Doctor Ellington jumped from the bed onto a shelf and crouched there, hissing, his hackles raised, his tail furred out and waving slowly from side to side.
