Simon didn’t like the innuendo in the woman’s words, nor the smug smile that spread over the balding Hell Lord’s lips.
“Well it’s not often that I get time off.” He laughed. “Or a pretty young mage comes calling my favor.”
“You old dog!”
“Is there supposed to be a point to this?” Simon gestured with his hands, implicating the two wizards and their…demonic Hell Lords within the arch of his arm.
The woman looked offended. Simon was only a little mortified as several bees actually flew out from the bun atop her head.
“And who are you?” she asked.
“A crumb bum, Midge, no doubt,” Mortimer answered, turning vaguely in Mr. Todd’s direction as he played with his cuffs.
“I’m afraid Mr. Todd happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Heironymous’ voice was amused as he stepped forward beside the expecting Hell mother. “If you don’t mind, Ma’m. We are trying to have a bit of a row here, Miss Baxter and I.”
Midge placed her hands on her hips. “With Mortimer?” she inquired, looking towards the stout old man in wonder. “Well,” she continued after a moment of recognition. “This ought to be interesting. Though, I’ll have you know that it’s awful hard on the baby!”
Heironymous acknowledged her lecture, apologizing.
Mr. Grim shrugged. “Wouldn’t the others be tickled to know what we were up to?” he said, his body beginning to change.
Midge smiled. “We can tell them all about it at the baby shower. June 6th VIVI!”
“Delightful. I’ll be sure to write it down.”
He twisted at his cufflinks then, and his lower jaw suddenly came unhinged, barbed mandibles jutting out and framing a long set of needle-like teeth. Horns that had already began to poke out from amidst his receding hairline grew to the length of a man’s arm and coiled, barbed along the length with what appeared to be rock hard plating.
Midge, well, she seemed to explode.
Simon couldn’t help but scream as the woman smiled, resuming her previous form. An avalanche of horrible vermin poured out between her legs in a pillar of black wriggling cockroaches, mites, worms, beetles, pests and spiders.
“I’m sorry, Simon,” Miss Baxter called, turning to regard him as the floor beneath began to transform. The chains around her wrists grew to gargantuan proportions. Simon had less than a moment to react before his dear neighbor was propelled upwards, a mountain of white bone and skulls serving as a dais as Mortimer Grim loomed behind her, greater in size than the largest building in Darlington. He was nothing of the old, plump man of before. Instead the Grim Reaper was a hulk of black muscle and bone, barbed at every joint and smoking violet from his eyes. He had eight wings down his back, like bony scythes, and a crown of horns upon his head, flecked with dead skin.
Simon fell backwards, looking up and noticing right away they were no longer in the University. As Miss Baxter’s throne of skulls rose into the inky darkness, Mr. Todd found himself floundering in tar.
We are in the seven hells! Simon tried to pull himself onto a large carapace in the center of things. He had to shrug off one shoe to get free, but he managed to hold onto Mr. Dashing’s pistol as he clamoured on board the hill of skeletons. Somewhat deftly, he popped it into the waistline of his trousers.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! He panicked, trying to climb the writhing mound of clawing bones. Not all were human, in fact a great deal were bovine, equestrian, caprine and… whatever the proper term for sheep was. They bit at him as he held on, and Simon Todd quickly began to climb for fear of having a piece chewed off him.
“Miss Baxter!” he called, but whether she couldn’t hear him or was too preoccupied at the moment, the young lady did not answer.
“Drats.” The word was certainly not suitable for the flurry of emotions currently roiling around Mr. Todd’s brain. The sheer horror and fright of it all made his teeth chatter. Even worse was when he espied the Hell mother sitting upon an inky hand, fresh with rot and blue bottle flies reaching out above the tar like a tower.
Simon gagged, turning away before he could completely register her appearance. Midge was a bloated mass of horrible boils, tumors and sickly wounds open and throbbing like a heartbeat. The head and torso of what appeared to be a woman, merged into the carapace of a beetle. Six sickle-like legs sweating with fleas and pests, dug into the tar and muck that Simon had forced himself out from a moment before. Yawning widely from the base of its torso to the underbelly where it met the form of the insect, was a long mouth framed with nubby teeth and an enormous lolling tongue covered in bile and lapping at the escaping swarm pouring from every sore on the Hell Lord’s body.
“She’s certainly not pretty to look at.” Heironymous grinned, his chains dancing wildly behind him. “But she lends great power.”
“Death is the leader of the horsemen, Heironymous. Have you forgotten that?” Unlike the Frelish gentleman, Miss Baxter seemed unfazed by the appearance of Pestilence.
Simon felt tears welling in his eyes at the mere thought. They ran down his face as he continued to climb.
“And I am the leader of Grimguild and of the wizards it trains. You gave away too much when you bound yourself to Mortimer. Four chains is madness.”
Miss Baxter smiled, looking towards her crook as power began to filter from her bound wrists into it. “Four chains are just right,” she argued sweetly, unperturbed as her mound of bones began clawing at the hem of her dress. “My farm could use an undead scarecrow though I’d be surprised if you could even manage to frighten a few birds, Heironymous.”
Miss Baxter didn’t allow him to respond as a ring of fire ignited from the center of her shepherd’s crook. Whirling in patterns, with the slight revolution of her wrist it flared to life, discharging from her staff in a shot of tremendous cannon fire.
Simon Todd felt the heat of it burn his eyebrows even after he forced himself to remain a ghost.
Well! That’s the end of that!
But despite Simon’s unwavering faith in Miss Baxter, Heironymous was unperturbed as he interrupted the ignition with a swarm of nits. Smiling beneath his moustache, the large man made a sign with his fingers, balling it up in one fist as the pests grew into enormous flies and hurled themselves at the blast in an effort to interrupt the flow.
Simon grimaced, grasping onto what appeared to be a horse’s ribcage as he tried in vain to evade the hail of horribly aromatic insect guts. He certainly had a few choice words for the Wizard Chancellor, if he ever got the chance to mutter them, and quite a few more for his Hell Lord mother-to-be.
“Miss Baxter!” he called again, to no avail. The sharp-witted wizardess was already in the throe of her next spell, weaving mist into matter and what not. Simon continued to climb the wriggling tangle of mostly animal skeletons, keeping clear of their mouths and sharp claws. What he honestly thought he would do upon reaching the peak was unknown to him, but that he should try and obtain it was obvious.
The demon lord, Mr. Grim, smiled in the background, violet shocks of magic slithering across black bones as it fed into the chains binding Miss Baxter. Simon was careful to not look at the other side of the fight. It was much too grotesque. For all his mind knew, flowers were sprouting out from amidst the raw flesh and boils, and the bugs were carrying candies and length of ribbon.
Yep, you’ve gone mad Mr. Todd. Stark, bleeding mad.
Nevertheless he continued to climb, and had almost reached the top when the entire structure began to quake.
“Oh damnation, what now?” Simon cried, horrified. How many times and in how many ways could a man be horrified, Simon was quickly learning.
What had at first appeared to be a terrible looking worm poking out the mess of bones, was in fact the long tail of a rodent. Miss Baxter swung her crook in an arch, and in tandem to the magic she was summoning, hundreds of tiny, rat skeletons began to flee the bone mountain and leap forward towards the protruding arm of Pestilence.
Simon swat
ted at a boney rat as one brushed past, trying to dodge out the way in time. Heironymous however, stepped back as the terrible beasts clawed their way towards him. Climbing up the bulbous veins and biting at flesh, they were doing a much better job than Mr. Todd was, and were even aided by what appeared to be a poisonous chaff cloud released a moment later.
Simon sneezed, of course as a few husks of seed inevitably found its way into his nose, but before he could retrieve his handkerchief, hundreds of nasty spiders dislodged from his nasal cavity, causing him to lose his grip and fall backward as they wriggled over his nicely tailored, pressed, collared shirt.
He screamed as everything fell away from him. Another blast of light shot out from Heironymous’ perch in defence. There was a flourish of colors, a bright rainbow of pastels that lighted the bleached bone of Miss Baxter’s macabre podium and the smell of something like brimstone. Simon shut his eyes as he waited for the tar of the Hellscape floor to break his fall, when something caught him.
“What?” He was unceremoniously deposited at the top of her mound of bones. Mr. Todd hadn’t been sure of what happened. He stumbled forward as Mortimer Grim pulled away one long, bony hand, the clink of chain clattering back into place. Simon blanched at the thought of being crushed within the palm of Death himself. He watched the Grim Reaper with wide eyes before he was called away.
“Are you alright, Simon?” Miss Baxter turned, worry in her eyes, and for a moment Mr. Todd would have believed he had been transported back to Darlington, midst the plains that surrounded their homes. Her sunny hair like the wheat dancing in the breeze, those green eyes like the pastures her undead livestock frolicked in were all he needed. That is, until she turned away to deflect a rather nasty bloom of green, turgid, webbing as it sped towards her like lightning.
“I’m fine,” he said, ducking as she enveloped them within some kind of protective globe. “I’m sorry, I feel like once again I’ve gotten us into a fine mess.”
She shook her head, one hand spinning in an effort to weave the webbing of offensive goo around and about itself like yarn. “Not at all, Mr. Todd. You’ve provided an opportunity for me to beat him, in fact.”
“Do you really think you can?”
She looked back over her shoulder, smiling. “I think so.” With a gale of wind, she popped the wrapped up globe into the air, and quickly began unravelling it in retaliation. Heironymous had been ready however and quickly dissolved the spell into cinders that burrowed burnt holes in the palm of the hand he was standing on.
“I don’t understand why, Miss Baxter. What do you need with all,” he ducked, something large having flown incredibly close to his head, “all this ruckus?”
“Baxter!”
Simon paused, peering over the young lady’s shoulder as the infamous Wizard Chancellor bellowed out her name.
“This ends!” His eyes were red, bloody and illuminated. Simon palled as the sweet, young Miss Baxter seemed unsure, and Heironymous began to scream.
Stomping both feet firmly on the fleshy surface of the demonic hand, Mr. Todd gasped as millions of bugs began to burst out the skin of Heironymous’ pedestal and envelope him. Pale skin and upturned moustache transformed into millions of wriggling bugs and the Wizard don himself began to grow exponentially.
“What is he…?” Simon had meant to ask.
Miss Baxter frowned. “He’s taking in all of the Hell Lord’s power…”
There was a rumble from behind them.
“MISS!” Simon stumbled to his knees, cowering before the booming voice. “YOU CANNOT BEAT HIM NOW. NOT AS YOU ARE.” Death laughed. “TAKE ME INSIDE YOU.”
What? How forward! Simon was offended on her behalf.
Miss Baxter however, was silent, watching impotently as Heironymous began to swell to tremendous size.
“What is he talking about, Miss Baxter?” Simon was endlessly trying to pull himself up, but even as he tried, the skeleton hands clawing at her gown began clawing at him.
“The chains,” she muttered. “Four chains…”
“What?” Mr. Todd was becoming increasingly more worried, swatting at the horrible little beasts grabbing at him. “What does that…?”
“Alright, Mortimer,” she agreed. Her eyes filled with resolve as she thrust her crook into the air. The chains seemed to fill with renewed life. “Lend me all your power!”
Death laughed. Simon cursed. Miss Baxter—she began to change.
Chapter 26
A Dragon Loses His Tea-mper
“If you have any magical items with the fire power of a small army that could potentially blow these ornery mob wizards away, I’d say it’s the time to use it, Miss Stein.”
Mr. Dashing fell back around the corner, shutting his eyes against the blast of electricity funnelling its way through the corridor. Chips of stone broke off from the wall, crumbing on the floor like old, white cheese.
“Yeah, I keep one in my bodice for a rainy day!” She cocked the forearm of his blunderbuss, shaking her head as he threw his pistol back to be reloaded.
Mr. Dashing grinned as the guns were exchanged, glancing down towards her chest before wiggling his eyebrows. “Aren’t you a charm mage? I’m sure you have a weapon, or two, in that bodice of yours.”
Molly snorted, about to reply when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Molly?”
Miss Stein turned, dark hair bouncing about her shoulders as Dashing wheeled to fire off another gun blast. Jane Darcy and Fae Hershal were on Sally’s heels as they ran down the tower, Jane slightly more concerned about the obvious war going on about the corridor.
“Sally!” Molly stepped forward to embrace her sister, her face a picture of relief as another round of shells sprayed back at the onslaught of sorcerers.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Fae stopped short, looking at Dick Dashing who turned to greet them all, cocking the gun again.
“Well this is convenient,” he said, gesturing to Molly to refill the gun.
“You’ve certainly made a bit of a commotion.” Jane Darcy bit his lip, looking up to the top of the tower. “I don’t suppose you came in here guns blazing with an exit strategy as well?”
“Where in blue blazes is Simon?” Fae had sworn she had seen him as they travelled down.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Molly said to her sister, stepping back to reload the gun again.
“I’m fine,” Sally promised, the freckles on her cheeks lifting with her smile. “They put me in a rather nice room.” There was a blast, causing her to shut her eyes a moment. “Sometimes Mr. Ardale would come along and let me play with his dog, Lucifer.”
Molly huffed, shaking her head as she bent to rewind the dials and reconfigure the runes of the firearm. “How nice of him.” She sneered.
“Gun!” Mr. Dashing pulled back again, smiling despite the obvious pickle they were all in. “No plan I’m afraid,” he responded to Jane, looking from him to Fae as he took back the pistol. “Simon’s off to find Miss Baxter.”
“By ‘imself?” Fae was alarmed.
“Nothing to worry about,” Dashing promised, ducking down as another chip of wall broke off and landed with a thud at his feet. “He’s a ghosty! If all else fails he can hide in a wall until a plan comes to him.”
“A ghost?” Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow, looking to Fae who waved him off.
“I don’t understand half of it meself,” she said.
“Anyway,” Dick continued. “Now that we’ve found you, I think it would be a good idea to make our way to the top of the tower.” There was a scream from beyond, and the tower began to shake as shadows grew across the floor and around the corner towards them. “Quickly now.”
The party of four withdrew, Mr. Dashing following behind to hurl gunthunder at the pursuing mages. Jane was quite upset they had been made to run down the entirety of the tower only to turn around and climb back up. He may have been parading around as a human for quite a while now, but it was awfully humiliating to have n
o other option than to run away when he could have simply flown up, or better yet, roasted them all in his dragon form. If he could have, he would have found reason to separate and do just that, but Mr. Dashing, ever the hero, insisted he keep them all safe by taking up the rear and spraying magical bullets behind them.
I wish I were a ghost, Jane thought, looking at the three women currently keeping stride around him. Regarding his female companions, Jane Darcy couldn’t help but reflect on how all humans seemingly looked the same. He was glad for hair color, taste in fashion and personal quirks, else he may have had a lot more difficulty in remembering which face belonged to who.
“Watch it!” Dashing yelled as the tower shook again, and a peal of thunder roared from inside.
“Dammit Uovo!” the gunslinger called, peering over the edge to regard the hoard of mages below. “You want to kill us all?”
Benedict was standing with Chip, a whirl of electricity winding in a current about his robotic arm. Ardale’s Alligaatorri was currently floating about his ankles, snapping at the shadows of the dozen mages behind them.
“’Ey Dick! Give yourself up. No need for you or your friends to be pushin’ up daisies.”
Jane went to the ledge, following Sally, her sister, as well as Miss Hershal to regard the slim, black-clad sorcerer.
“Mr. Ardale!” Sally waved, the large white sleeve of her shirt looking like a flag. Chip smiled, tipping his hat to the young lady as Molly scowled.
“Evenin’ Miss Stein,” he replied, taking a step forward. “No hard feelings sweetheart, but I’ll need you and your sister to be going back to that room of yours. Wouldn’t want a pretty girl like you caught up in any crossfire.”
“Get stuffed, Ardale!” Molly yelled before Sally had a chance to answer, pushing her sister back from the ledge. “I’m not afraid of an oversized gecko and a few shadow puppets!”
The man laughed, shaking his head as he smoothed the lapels of his ironed, black suit. “I don’t understand why a sweet girl like your sister Sally needed to learn charm magic.” He looked back up, grinning wickedly under his tangle of red hair and fedora. “A gal like you? Well that’s obvious.”
The Curious Case of Simon Todd Page 28
