Indeed, the creature obviously ignored them. As it drew closer, its yellow eyes focused unblinkingly on the Vampire King.
"Fleeing from this fiendish fauna might be fortuitous."
"What?"
"She's telling you to run," translated Morton.
As if the beast understood as well, it charged forward. Every step into the light was a blur of teeth and claws and fire. The darkness chased just behind. The Vampire King turned and dashed away in a chaos of crashing bells. The beast pursued, whipping past Olivia and Morton to chase the King.
They gagged. It wasn't shadows that covered the beast but thick, unnatural smoke. It reeked of sulfur and brimstone.
Olivia took the mouse in her claws and flew in pursuit. It wasn't hard to follow. The King made so much noise when he ran.
"He'll never lose it."
"Cursed cacophony conspires against the King."
Distantly, the vampire yelled as the smoke beast howled. Olivia turned a corner. The monster snorted once more, spit another gout of flame, and ran off with the King clutched in its vicious jaws. The thunderous crash of ten thousand chimes drowned the vampire's screams.
Olivia landed, and Morton sniffed at a shred of black cloth.
"The King's cloak," she observed. "Could the King be killed?"
"Not killed." Morton pulled away the cloth to reveal a scrap of flesh, a pointed ear. "Consumed."
Olivia shuddered, raising her feathers.
"Catastrophic."
FIVE
Nessy awoke to find The Door At The End Of The Hall gone again. This annoyed her. She liked everything to be where it belonged, and The Door At The End Of The Hall had become The Door That Went Wherever It Pleased Except Its Proper Place. That was untidy and unacceptable, even for a magical castle. But a new day was upon her, and with it, a new day's duties.
Today was Polishing Day. It only came around every few weeks, but it was one of her favorites. There was nothing quite like shining silver and buffing brass and seeing her reflection in the gleaming metal. The mere thought was enough to push aside her vexation.
Sir Thedeus and Echo took off on the task of spreading the story of their close encounter with the Door. Many, if not all, of the castle's residents lived for these sorts of tales. Boredom was a constant nuisance when one lived only in a portrait or as a statue or at the bottom of a deep, dark pit. Though the castle had hundreds of inhabitants, most called only a small part of it home, a chamber or two if they were fortunate.
On her way to the kitchen, Nessy stopped by her room (not truly a room, but more a corner in a large hallway) to speak briefly with the monster (less a ghastly beast and more a grumpy imp) that lived under her bed (more accurately a worn cot).
"Where were you last night?" The monster glared with its three eyes. Nessy had never seen more of it than those glassy, gray eyes.
"The Door At The End Of The Hall was proving mischievous."
"Are you okay?"
"Perfectly fine. I just wanted to let you know."
"As if I'd worry." His angry eyes softened. "But since you're not dead, you will be coming by tonight, won't you?"
"Barring any foolishness with the castle's other doors, yes."
"Good. I found a new book. I hope it's a good one." A small book slid from the darkness under the cot.
It was very dark under her bed, and he was dependent upon her to read to him. She enjoyed skimming a chapter or two before retiring as well. She couldn't imagine where the monster got these books as he never left the shelter of her cot, but it was a varied selection. Stories of romance, adventure, horror. Travelogues of distant lands. A manual on carpentry, another on how to improve yourself and win companions.
She leaned over and glanced at the latest offering. "It has a princess on the cover."
The monster blew a raspberry.
"There's a barbarian, too."
"Does he have a sword? If he has a sword, it might be good. Unless he's kissing her. If he's kissing her, it's going to be stupid."
"No, he's got an ax."
"Ax, eh? That's a twist."
"And there's a monster, too."
He chuckled. "I hope it's a dragon. I love it when they kill dragons. Pretentious reptiles, think they're so special just 'cause they can breathe fire and fly. Like that's so great. Is it a dragon?"
"Let's not ruin it." Nessy threw the book back under the bed and continued on her way.
Her breakfast was always the same: two biscuits, three slices of ham, and a tall glass of milk and honey. Mister Bones had it all prepared, the table set, by the time she walked through the kitchen door. The skeleton got her stool for her.
"Thank you."
Decapitated Dan sat quietly on the spice rack. He was not a morning person. It was only in the afternoon that he grew energetic enough to rant on madly.
Mister Bones, ever the thoughtful fellow, had an extra plate of ham and biscuits for the nurgax. Nessy had almost forgotten the beast because it followed so obediently and so quietly. The nurgax gulped down its meal and belched. She was about to eat her own when a black owl, gray mouse clutched in its talons, flew into the room and landed on the table.
"A new day necessitates Nessy nibble on nourishment," said Olivia.
"Yes, good thinking."
Morton scampered to the edge of the plate. "Terrible news. The Vampire King, he's dead."
"Of course he's dead. He's a vampire." Nessy tossed the bird and rodent a piece of bread.
The meal distracted Morton for a moment. He tried speaking with his mouth full and made little sense.
"Unquestionably undead," said Oliva. "But a big beast brutalized the bell-ridden being with such salacious savagery that the King's continued corporeality could be called into question."
Nessy was in the middle of dissecting Olivia's sentence when Morton sped things along with a translation.
"Some giant thing ate him."
Decapitated Dan cackled to life. "O ho ho. Ol' Dan told you. I told you, I did. One by one by one the prophecies of Ol' Dan will come to pass. O, how I can hardly wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. It'd be enough to drive me mad if I weren't already out of my skull. So to speak." He howled with deranged laughter.
"Quiet, please," said Nessy.
Dan stifled himself, though he still snorted and grunted with some amusement.
"Now, what exactly happened?"
"An evil entity engulfed the doomed undead denizen in its giant jagged jaws."
"Oh it was a horrible sight." Morton leaned boldly onto the plate. "Are you going to eat that bit of ham?"
She gave her meal to him. Disorder always made her lose her appetite. Plenty of unsavory creatures wandered the castle, especially at night, and Nessy had no doubt that there were mysteries and horrors lurking within it that only Margle knew. There was always another dark corner, another forgotten room, waiting quietly somewhere to cause some trouble. But for all its countless dangers, known and unknown, the inhabitants knew how to navigate them safely. It'd been years since anything of this sort had happened.
"Are you sure it ate him?"
"We didn't get to see the whole thing before it carried him off. But there was an ear left behind. We lost that to some rats. I think they were ordinary rats, but I don't know for sure. Olivia has gotten into the habit of giving any vermin she catches a chance to speak up, just in case."
She hooted. "Terribly traumatic to taste a talking treat."
Nessy hopped from the stool.
"Where are you going, dear Nessy dear?" asked Decapitated Dan. "Going to check on the King? No need, no need. He's dead, dead and gone, gone and gobbled. You can take ol' Dan's word for it. And everyone can tell you, ol' Dan's word is as good as a bucket of peaches. The dead would fear, that's what I said. And that's what's happened." He laughed.
Nessy ignored him, but even after she'd left the kitchen, he shouted after her.
"And how about that Door? Gone off on its own, hasn't it? It'll turn up, you can count on that. Y
ou have ol' Dan's word on that, and everyone knows Dan's word is as good as sunflower petals." His deranged laughter echoed. It rang in her ears long after she'd left him behind, all the way to the dank catacombs and the Vampire King's crypt.
She opened the King's coffin and found only the bed of soil and nothing else. Her distress rose, although she hid it well. Only the nurgax seemed to notice. It whined by her side.
"See? Gone," said Morton. "He has to be dead."
"The undead desire dark dirt during days."
"I don't like this, Nessy. I don't think I feel safe anymore."
"Too many multitudes of menace move through this manor. Generous jeopardies, hundreds of horrors, crowds of calamities, a deluge of danger."
"Quiet, please," said Nessy.
Olivia struggled against her curse, but still had to spit out one last phrase. "Great gatherings of ghastliness."
Nessy wasn't certain the King was dead. He could be sleeping somewhere else. There were plenty of dark places, but his sleep in any of these would be uncomfortable without his native soil to bring him peace. Given a choice, the King would be in this coffin. He was either dead or greatly inconvenienced. Perhaps hiding somewhere in terror. The idea of something unfamiliar roaming the halls hungry and unchecked put Nessy in an ill mood. This was unacceptable. The simple joys of Polishing Day would have to wait.
Olivia yawned. "Instincts obligate I seek slumber soon. Preferably a protected perch now that this new nefarious nuisance is gnawing on our neighbors."
"Not yet," said Nessy. "I need the two of you to come with me to the library and help me identify whatever ate the King."
"Happy to help halt these hideous happenings." Olivia blinked her large eyes sleepily. "But be brief. I need my nest and a nap."
Margle's library was something of a legend among wizards. It was a huge chamber with vaulted ceilings and great iron shelves filled with thousands upon thousands of magical textbooks. Tremendous crystal chandeliers made the room bright as day. Margle had never been especially stylish, but he'd spent a lot of time here in his research. It was the only room in the entire castle with wall-to-wall carpets and that maintained a comfortably mild temperature year-round. Several gargoyles decorated the shelves, unenchanted, purely for decoration. There was also a dead man dangling from a chandelier by the area set aside for reading.
The Hanged Man choked a greeting at their arrival. He could only speak clearly when he bothered to hoist himself up from his noose. But his arms were withered, mummified, and he didn't usually trouble anymore.
Nessy took special pride in the fact that the shelves were impeccably arranged. Maintaining it had never been the problem. Getting it in order had been the task. Margle never put anything in its proper place, and he'd had a small mountain of mislaid books. "Put these away. Do it quickly, and if I find even one book in the wrong space," he'd pointed to the Hanged Man, "I'll string you up next to the last imbecile dimwitted enough to put a necromancy primer in the alchemy section."
It'd been her first task in his service, and after she'd finished, Margle had paid her his one and only compliment in his employ. "Took you long enough, mongrel." It wasn't so much the words, but his smile that she considered her commendation. Although it wasn't so much a smile as a gratified snarl.
Nessy asked the Hanged Man for the best book on monsters. He pulled himself up just long enough to spit out, "Stoker's Abominable Index."
"Thank you."
He choked out a strangled "You're welcome."
Nessy went to the zoology shelves and found the text. For some reason, wizards loved giant books, not just thick but absurdly proportioned. Her small size required she carry the book across her back to the reading area. She laid it down with a thud. She pried the worn leather cover open with some effort and ran her finger down the table of contents.
The book slammed shut, nearly smacking her hand.
"Should've warned you," sputtered the Hanged Man. "He doesn't like to be read. And he can be a little verbose."
"I am not," shouted the book.
The Hanged Man looked as if he might argue, but his arms gave out so he just shrugged.
The book cleared its throat, although technically lacking a throat to clear. "Professor Stoker, greatest monster authority in all the world, at your ser vice, sir."
"She's a female," said Morton.
Stoker's pages shook. "Of course. I should've known better. The female kobold has larger ears, closer set eyes, and—might I see your tongue? Ah, yes, speckled blue. Please, forgive my error. I can assure you, no one in this world knows more about subhuman flora and fauna than I. But my specialty is dangerous and unsavory beasts, not harmless creatures such as yourself. No slight intended to your species, my dear, but even you must admit kobolds are not the most intimidating of creatures."
"Verbose is an understatement," whispered Morton in Nessy's ear.
Olivia, perched on Nessy's other shoulder, agreed. "Verifiable veneration for his very voice."
Nessy interrupted. "Excuse me, but we need to identify a monster."
Stoker cleared his throat again. "Certainly, miss. You'll find no greater expert on the study of monsters, beasts, creatures, and horrors bipedal, quadruped, and hexapod."
Olivia's head drooped. "My resistance to rest is reducing."
Nessy attempted to open the book, but he held shut. "No need for that," he muttered through tightly clamped pages. "I can tell you anything you want to know faster than you could find it on your own. Just describe it."
"I'd do what he says," sputtered the Hanged Man. "It'd be easier."
Stoker grumbled. "I spend most my time on that shelf. I think it's not too much to ask that I be allowed to speak when I'm able."
Nessy conceded it was a reasonable request. She had Morton and Olivia describe what they'd seen of the Vampire King's end. Stoker analyzed their report aloud.
"A creature which feeds on the undead, eh? This is not as unusual as the layman might suspect. Vampires have a variety of predators: the bloodgutter badger, the mammoth maggot, the consuming slug. There is even a rare breed of carp which is quite lethal to the undead. But from what you have said, I have surmised that the beast encountered can be none of these."
"Can you stop telling us what it isn't and get to the point?" said Morton.
The book's pages bent in a frown. "Very well. I was merely attempting to educate you, to broaden your view of the fascinating world of metazoology. But if you insist on remaining ignorant . . ."
"This endless elaboration has exhausted my energies." Olivia hopped to the table, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Stoker took the hint. "This can only be one creature, an abomination so infrequently encountered that I have never seen one personally. Nor have I ever met any fellow scholar who has. I even doubted that it existed, but now . . ."
Morton was tired as well, but without nocturnal instincts, his annoyance kept him awake. "What is it?"
The book cleared his throat once again and opened wide.
"That's it. That's what we saw." Morton hopped onto the pages beside a sketch of a big black cloud with claws and vicious eyes.
Stoker mumbled as best he could without closing on the mouse. "Well of course it is. I am a world-renowned authority."
Nessy forced him flat. The book was ridiculously large, and the print on his pages was equally ridiculously large. She supposed it helped to make the intricate calligraphy more legible. It could've been half the size and perfectly functional, but Nessy had always been very practical and she'd never met a wizard yet who enjoyed that virtue.
She read aloud. "Hellhound. A creature of the underworld that feeds on intransient souls, both material and immaterial. The Hellhound's diet consists of apparitions, banshees, ghosts, ghouls, lamias, phantasms, phantoms, revenants, shades, specters, spirits, spooks, wights, will-o-the-wisps, wraiths, zombies . . ."
"Doesn't say anything about vampires," observed Morton.
Stoker turned his next p
age, rudely thrusting the rodent onto the desk.
". . . And especially vampires."
The book slammed himself shut again. "In most situations, the beast would starve to death soon enough, but this castle's spirit population makes an ideal environment. The good news is that the hound is exclusively nocturnal. During the daylight hours, it finds a deep shadow to nest in. Again, this castle's many darkened corners provide it with an abundance of nesting grounds. A most interesting chance for prolonged study."
"Does it eat mice?" asked Morton. "Or owls?"
"Only ghostly ones. It has no interest in the living or the deceased. Its purpose is to restore balance to the metaphysical scales by dragging the stubborn dead to Hell."
The Hanged Man spoke up. "I don't want to go to Hell."
"Tough luck then, old chap."
"How do we get rid of it?" asked Nessy.
Stoker snapped his leather cover three times. "A very good question. Unfortunately, I don't know. Theoretically, it should starve to death once it has exhausted its food supply."
"But that could take months." Morton's whiskers twitched. "I'm glad I'm not dead."
"I wish I could be of more help." His satin bookmark offered half a shrug. "But anything else would be pure conjecture, and I deal in facts. I advise you seek a more knowledgeable authority. Perhaps a wizard."
"Or a demon," said Nessy.
"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that. Oh no. Not at all. My information on demons is unpleasant without exception." His pages flipped to a drawing of a huge, winged monster with a twisted, leering face. It was only ink, but it was dreadful to behold. The real thing could only be worse.
Frowning, she slammed the book shut. "I hope it won't come to that."
She returned Stoker to the shelf. He protested, and while she understood his reluctance, she couldn't bring herself to not put something back where it belonged. It was her nature, nursed by years of habit. She remembered the Vampire King's empty coffin. She hadn't any fondness for the King, but that he wasn't there distressed her more and more.
"Are you really going to deal with a demon?" asked Morton.
"If I have to."
Too Many Curses Page 5
