"We're not thieves!" Rose cried, leaning close to the imp with her hands over her ears. "And your owner isn't anywhere nearby! The whole city's been evacuated! There's no one here! No police, no anybody!"
The imp glared at her suspiciously. "LIKELY STORY, LADY!" it blared, its shrill voice echoing around the rooftop. "THAT'S JUST WHAT YOU'D LIKE ME TO BELIEVE, ISN'T IT?"
"We could prove it," Nastasia conceded thoughtfully. "Just chuck it off the roof, Zane, and let it see for itself."
"Now let's not be hasty!" The imp admonished, raising both of its hands, palms out. "I'm just doin' a job here, Pinkie! No need to damage the merchandise!"
"Look," Scorpius said, addressing the imp. "We aren't stealing you. We're just borrowing you for a bit of an emergency. My father has one of you installed on his own broom, and I know for a fact that you're especially hexed to assist in any and all emergencies. Then again," he stood back and cocked his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps that's just the Genie Five Hundred series."
"The Genie Five Hundred series!?" the imp scoffed, crossing its arms haughtily. "That's strictly aftermarket dwarf charm stuff! Not even real imp! I'ma two hundred Drummel factory option. Just try me, bucko."
"I don't know," Zane said, concealing a half smile. "I bet you can't even get us down from this roof."
The imp rolled its bulbous yellow eyes. "Nice reverse psychology, Sigmund. WHOOP! WHOOP! I'M BEING STOLEN BY AN IDIOT WITH NO IMAGINATION!"
"Hold up!" Ralph called out, interrupting the imp as it drew another deep breath. "This really is an emergency. We're stuck here unless we can all get down from this roof and find our only way back. You're the only one that can help us, but you can't fly us all down anyway. Can you turn off the alarm gargoyles on these other couple of brooms as well?"
The imp still had its chest inflated, prepared to continue whooping. In a strained voice, it asked, "You sure this is a real emergency?"
"Please," Rose said seriously. "I'm stranded here if I can't get down and find what I've lost. We'll bring you right back here when we're done."
"If we can," Nastasia added reasonably. The imp glared at her, apparently remembering her threat to toss it over the side. Finally, it exhaled harshly and shook its head.
"Fine," it agreed reluctantly. "But I'm hexed with a photographic memory and I am going to report each and every one of you if things get hinky. Hey! The rest of you! Command over-ride yellow: riders in need of assistance."
The other two remaining brooms each emitted a sort of squawking bleat. The imps crouched on the handles stirred to life and eyed the students with a mixture of suspicion and eagerness. One of them was lithe and silvery blue with a tiny wedge-shaped head and glowing, pupil-less eyes. The other was very fat, pink, and adorned with a pair of fluffy white wings.
"Oooh," the pink one said in a bubbly voice, "A real emergency! Shall I locate the nearest florist?"
"Cupid series," the first imp muttered under its breath. "Great."
"Yay!" the Cupid clapped its chubby hands. "An adventure!"
Zane held up the Aventidore. "Dibs on this one!" To Rose, he muttered, "Say shotgun."
"Shotgun!" Rose proclaimed immediately, sidling up next to him.
James glared at her, not entirely sure what that meant but knowing it would probably result in him flying the Cupid broom. He glanced aside and saw Scorpius snatch the blue broom from the rack. Its silvery imp coiled lithely on the end.
"I'm with Scorpius," Ralph said sheepishly, glancing back at the pink broom. "I don't think that thing could hold me up anyway."
Nastasia grinned and took her place next to James. "You want me to drive?" she asked sweetly, glancing up at him and batting her eyes.
James sighed and shook his head. He reached for the Cupid broom. Like the others, it was mostly black, although it bore neat pink pinstripes down both sides and had dried roses threaded into its tail.
"You two look simply adorable," the Cupid insisted as James reluctantly mounted the broom and Nastasia threw her arms around his shoulders. "And just look!" it went on, pointing at Nastasia's hair. "We match! How perfectly scrumptious!"
"Yeah," Nastasia grinned, her voice very loud in James' ear. "It's scrumptious, isn't it, James?"
James felt his face heat with a confused rush of embarrassment, fear, and a few other emotions he couldn't immediately identify.
"Wind's blowing that way," Zane announced, pointing out over the length of the avenue below. "Let's follow it and keep a sharp eye out. Rose's sweater must have fallen down there in the street somewhere. Let's get low enough to search for it. Got it, Impy?"
"Don't push it," the Aventidore imp growled in resignation.
James clutched his broom. "Let's go! Everybody stay together."
"I'll look up starting times for any good shows at the Moxy Mage!" The Cupid cried in an inspired voice.
With that, the three brooms, each weighed down with two riders, kicked off from the roof and lofted out into the whickering wind over dizzying heights. Immediately, they angled down and began a slaloming descent into the shadows of the skyscrapers.
"You're drifting right!" Nastasia barked in James' ear, renewing her grip on his shoulders. "And you're dropping too fast! Where'd you learn to fly?"
"Just shut it, I'm trying to concentrate," James called tersely. "And do you have to hold on so hard? You're going to squeeze my head off."
"You fly better and maybe I'll loosen up. Look out!"
James swerved to the left as a flagpole swept past, jutting from the side of a nearby skyscraper.
Nastasia nearly climbed onto his shoulders as he sped up. "There's a whole row of them!" she squealed. "Not so close! What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for Rose's cardigan, you big git! It might be hung up on anything! Get off me! I can hardly see!"
"Lover's quarrel," the Cupid chided with a cluck of its tongue. "I could arrange an appointment for his and hers pedicures? How romantic would that be? Answer: very!"
"Shut up!" both James and Nastasia commanded simultaneously.
The three brooms continued to drift downward, seesawing back and forth between canyons of glass and steel.
In the lead, Zane called back, "Anybody see anything?"
"We have to get lower still," Scorpius announced, shaking his head in frustration. "It could have blown anywhere: under any of those abandoned cars, or on top of an awning, anything."
"Blast it all," Rose cursed to herself. "If only I could just perform an Accio spell!"
Ralph brightened. "That's a great idea! Why don't you do it?"
Rose glanced back at him as if he was a total idiot. "Because my wand is also in the pocket of my cardigan!"
"And none of us knows it well enough to summon it ourselves," Scorpius sighed. "There's nothing for it but to keep--"
"What's that?" Nastasia interrupted, stabbing out an arm and pointing toward a nearby roof. James glanced to the right, following her gesture. The roof was sliding past, rising as they descended. Something was moving through the collection of old air conditioning units and snaking ducts. With a stumbling lunge, it leapt out into the sunlight.
"It's a woman!" Rose cried, shaking Zane's shoulders atop their broom. "What's she doing here?"
It was indeed a woman. Her dirty blonde hair was stringy, whipped by the wind so that it formed a wild strew around her head and her haunted, bright eyes. James knew instinctively that she was a Muggle, and yet when she saw them-- six young people flying along on brooms three hundred feet over the avenue-- she did not so much as blink. She lurched toward them, her shoes slipping frantically on the tar-paper roof.
"Help," she gasped hoarsely. There was movement behind her now. Dark shapes flitted through the rooftop vents, angling swiftly toward her. James barely had time to see them before his broom descended below the line of the roof, obscuring his view.
As James swept past, the woman glanced back at her pursuers. She moaned in terror, and then, to James' complete shock, she leapt.
> "No!" Rose cried.
But the woman was not jumping to her death. She had aimed for James' broom. Flailing desperately, she tackled both him and Nastasia, one arm around each of their necks, clinging desperately. The broom slewed sickeningly to the left, nearly turning over completely, and began to drop in a steep spiral.
"Too heavy!" the Cupid wailed. "Exceeding weight limit by forty percent! No love triangles!"
"Grab her!" James shouted, struggling to regain control of the broom as its descent steepened.
"Are you crazy?!" Nastasia shrieked into the rushing wind. "We can't hold her up!"
"Well we can't throw her off!"
"We'll crash if we don't!" Nastasia, James realized, was trying to pry the woman's arm from around her neck. The woman moaned, seemingly too weak to hold on much longer anyway.
"Nastasia!" James cried. "Stop! Hold onto her! We'll make it!"
A shape swooped past them, buffeting them with its passage. James glanced hectically aside and saw Zane struggling to match their descent. Behind him, Rose hung on for dear life, her lips pressed into a thin line of terror.
Zane pointed downward and hollered something.
"What!?" James cried, struggling futilely to hold the broomstick upright.
Zane leaned aside and called out again, "Aim for the awnings!"
James boggled at him, and then turned his attention to the avenue that was roaring up beneath him. A broad green awning spanned the building on his left side. James nodded understanding and lunged hard left, dragging the failing broom with him.
"Hold on!" he cried. The awning swept up beneath them, tilting and yawing as James completely lost control. He braced himself and closed his eyes.
The impact was much harder than he expected. The taut canvas was shockingly stiff, but the framework beneath broke away with a screech of startled metal. The awning collapsed beneath them, taking them with it as it crashed down, half onto the sidewalk and half onto an abandoned yellow taxi.
James bounced off, losing his grip on the broom and ricocheting off the door of the cab. He struck the pavement hard enough to rattle his teeth and for a few seconds his vision went swimmy.
Shadows passed over him as the others swooped down to land nearby.
"James!" Rose called anxiously. "Are you all right? Tell me you're all right!"
"I'm fine," James said mushily, forcing himself to a sitting position in the shadow of the taxi. "I think. What about the others?"
He looked around, fearing the worst. Nastasia was tangled in the remains of the awning, which seemed to have folded around her in a sort of green canvas cocoon. She moaned irritably and began to struggle out of the wreckage. The mysterious blonde woman had fallen onto the taxi and rolled down onto its bonnet, where she stirred limply. Miraculously, she seemed to be physically all right, if near exhaustion. She slid off the bonnet and her knees buckled.
"Run," she muttered tensely. "Go, Lissa. Don't let him collect you. Run, babe, run!"
But her legs rebelled, refusing to hold her up. They jiggled beneath her and she sprawled pathetically to the sidewalk.
"Is she all right?" Zane asked, ditching his broom and running to her side.
"Who is she?" Ralph added, dropping to his knees next to her.
Rose joined them. Together, the three students helped her into a sitting position. "Miss?" Rose asked her carefully. "Is that your name? Lissa? What are you doing here?"
"Have to run," the woman, Lissa, insisted dully. She glanced around, saw Rose and Ralph, and suddenly her eyes sharpened. She grabbed at them. "Have to run!" she repeated frantically. "The Collector is coming!"
"The who?" James said, climbing awkwardly to his feet.
"The Collector," a deep voice announced from behind him.
James startled and spun around, nearly unhinging his knees again. A figure was standing against the lowering sun, casting James in its shadow. It was a man, very tall, wearing a heavy burgundy robe with gold scrollwork on the sleeves. A deep hood concealed his face, revealing only his chin and the tip of his nose. He seemed to stare at James from the depths of the hood, as if weighing him.
"I apologize," he said, smiling suddenly. He raised his pale hands and pushed back the hood, revealing a handsome, if unremarkable face. Dark hair, threaded with steely grey, was combed back from the temples. "I didn't mean to startle you. I am the person she is referring to, the Collector, although it is not so much a name as a sort of… title."
"What do you want?" Rose called out, putting her arm protectively around Lissa, who had begun to hyperventilate in apparent terror. "Why are you chasing her?"
"This poor creature is one of my charges," the man answered, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Just one of the unfortunate, forgotten people left to fend for themselves in this ghost of a city. I have taken it upon myself to care for them, whenever my duties allow it."
"If you are caring for her," Scorpius asked, taking a step forward. "Then why was she running from you? Why did she nearly kill herself trying to get away from you?"
"Alas," the Collector said, moving carefully closer to Lissa and descending to one knee. "She is not in her right mind. Few of them are. This is why they were left here to begin with, why they did not heed the warnings to evacuate along with the others. She is confused. And as you can see, she is a danger to herself. I will take her back. I will care for her, as I do the rest."
Lissa suddenly laughed. It was a ragged, desperate sound. "The rest!" she gasped. "There are hardly any of us left at all! You've 'collected' so many! You're a monster! A… a beast!"
The Collector bowed his head and spread his hands. "Unfortunately, some delusions are much more stubborn than others. I do what I can to help them, but some… require special attention." He raised his head again and spoke directly to the woman. "Come along, my dear Melissa. You know there is no way out of the quarantine zone now, not unless you wish to get arrested by the authorities. They would imprison you. Your many crimes…"
Lissa laughed again, a wild, animal cackle. "Imprisonment! Yes! Let them take me! I'll go willingly!" She giggled, and the giggle was half sob, as if the Collector was teasing her with a wonderful treat rather than a threat of capture. A shiver rippled down James' back.
"She doesn't want to go with you," he said, moving to get between the Collector and Lissa. "She can come with us. We can look after her. You've… done your bit."
The Collector glanced up at him without raising his head. His eyes were cold, his smile a mere mask.
"How generous you are… James Potter," he said.
James took a step backward and reached for his wand. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "How do you know who I am?"
"Come, Lissa," The Collector said again, extending his pale hand. "You don't want to involve these nice young people in your troubles. Do you?"
The threat was obvious. James glanced back at Lissa, saw the frozen fear on her face. If she didn't go along with this man, her fate-- whatever it was-- would be extended to those helping her. Slowly, haltingly, she disengaged herself from Rose, Ralph and Zane. She began to stand.
"I don't think so," Scorpius said impatiently, raising his fist. His wand protruded from it, levelled at the Collector. "I have nothing against you, friend, but personally, I'm weary of veiled threats. Believe me, I know them when I hear them. The woman stays with us."
The Collector looked at Scorpius' wand, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Is this how all of you feel?" he asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
James raised his own wand and moved alongside Scorpius. He nodded resolutely. A moment later, he felt Ralph and Zane on either side, their own wands levelled.
"Really, James?" The Collector said, ignoring the others. "This is the stand you wish to take? Risking all for the sake of a sad, wasted Muggle woman? A woman even her own kind cannot deign to be bothered with?"
James swallowed hard and nodded, renewing his grip on his wand.
"You really should consider," the Collector said, ri
sing again to his full height, "choosing your battles more wisely."
He raised his arms, showing them the white palms of his hands, as if he was about to perform a magic trick. And then, furthering this image, black smoke began to pour out of his dangling sleeves. The smoke swirled, condensing into tendrils, and then collapsing horribly into shapes. Two creatures formed out of the smoke, both taller than the Collector himself, and both equally terrible.
"You will not yet have learned of the Wendigo," the Collector said calmly. "It is native to this country, ancient and starved nearly to extinction. Until, that is, a certain Warlock associate of mine revived them. They are cannibal spirits. And as you can see… they are hungry."
The Wendigoes looked like horribly emaciated humans, with mottled grey skin stretched taut over their bones. Their feet were grotesquely elongated, raised at the heels like wolves'. Long, spindly arms dangled to the ground, ending in spider-like fingers. The worst part, however, were their heads: oversized, hunched forward between their shoulders, with deep, wide-set eyes as white as marbles and thin, bloody lips peeled back from their teeth. Ragged antlers sprouted from their temples, sharp and ridged with serrations.
The Wendigoes raised their long fingers, hooked into talons, and coiled to pounce.
"Run!" James called, levelling his wand at the monster on the right. He shot it with a stunning spell, but the jet of magic merely exploded from its nearly translucent skin. It launched itself at him, unleashing its rancid breath in a low roar.
James ducked sideways, throwing himself under the collapsed awning. The Wendigo landed atop it with a screech of metal and immediately began tearing at it. The other roared viciously. James heard its thumping footsteps as it galloped past in pursuit of the others. Someone screamed. Spells were fired, illuminating the street. A whoosh of air told James that at least one of the brooms was airborne again. He scrambled out on the other side of the broken awning and began to run.
Scorpius, Rose and Lissa were crammed onto one of the brooms, but they were too heavy to get any lift. The second Wendigo pounced after them, leaping over abandoned cars and snarling hoarsely.
James Potter and the Morrigan Web Page 20
