Christopher Golden - Tears of the Furies

Conan Doyle stood beside Danny, his hands held up, a spray of emerald light flashing from them and spreading in front of the two of them like some sort of shield. The old guy seemed way too proper most of the time, but the second the magic started to spark from his eyes and that weird nowhere wind buffeted his clothes and ruffled his hair, he was almost more frightening than any monster. Power simmered in him, flowing off of him in waves.

"Eve," Conan Doyle called. "If you would be so kind as to get off your behind and lend a hand…"

The vampire had been thrown back against the Range Rover when the Hydra erupted from the ground, and now she pulled herself to her feet. "Right away, boss man," she said, shooting him the middle finger. "I live to serve."

The ground shuddered again, a tremor that all of them rode out as though they were on board a ship. The earth collapsed around the Hydra, huge chunks of volcanic soil sinking inward, entire stretches of that dusty ground erupting upward as the Hydra bucked and hauled its body out of its den beneath the dead earth. Each head was as hideous as the first, jaws gaping over, slavering venom spilling out onto the ground to sizzle like acid as it touched earth. Beneath its scales moved thick, ropy muscles, and its nine tails thrashed on the dusty ground.

Danny started forward, despite Conan Doyle’s magickal defenses. The mage reached out a hand and grabbed his shoulder.

"Not yet, boy."

Eve cautiously moved toward the monster that now swayed on its thick, muscular trunk. She drew its attention, and nine pair of eyes focused on her.

"What’s she going to do?" Danny asked.

Conan Doyle ignored him, muttering an incantation under his breath, even as Ceridwen entered the fray. The elemental sorceress pointed her staff toward the beast, the sphere of blue ice atop it crackling with growing power. Her violet eyes sparked, and she raised her arms

The Hydra struck. Despite Eve’s distraction, one massive head turned away from the vampire, and its jaws opened wide, vomiting a gray, noxious vapor. Ceridwen tried to ward off the billowing cloud, but it clung to her, coating her in a layer of ash.

Conan Doyle shouted her name, his face etched with fury as he unleashed a bolt of pure magickal force. But he had been distracted, and even as he ran to her side, the blast went wild, missing the monster and shattering a fossilized tree nearby.

Three of the Hydra’s heads twisted around to stare at the tree that the spell had destroyed. One set of jaws gaped open and hissed in the general direction of Conan Doyle and Ceridwen, but the others still focused on Eve. It had identified her early on as its main prey, and now it began to slither across the barren earth toward her.

This whole thing is going to shit, Danny thought. Deep shit. He started after the Hydra, but he remembered Conan Doyle’s caution, and turned to glance back at the man who led them. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Eve snapped a branch off of a petrified tree and as the Hydra twisted its body across the earth toward her, she prepared to use it as a club. "Is she all right?" she yelled to Doyle, who knelt at Ceridwen’s side, trying to remove the solidified ash that was crusted on her body.

The vampire had no time to wait for an answer. The Hydra darted toward her, quickening its speed, and while two of its heads feinted, a third lunged toward her, jaws spreading, venom drooling out.

Eve danced aside and swung the thick tree limb at its head. "Take that, you ugly prick."

The Hydra screeched in pain and fury, but even as one head sagged, disoriented, another long neck shot forward, jaws snapping. Once more Eve evaded the Hydra, but this time she jabbed one of its eyes with the end of the branch. The eye punctured, and putrid, gray fluid squirted out. But the Hydra was not nine separate beasts. Its injured heads had distracted Eve, and perhaps they had been meant to, for now a third and fourth serpentine mouth belched clouds of that noxious clinging vapor rather than attacking outright. Danny held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest, and every muscle tensed to join the fray. But Eve amazed him with her speed as she dove to the ground, rolling beneath the vapor, right up to the belly of the beast. She swung her club, this time striking the monster’s body. All nine heads bellowed its rage as the creature swiveled around and lashed at her with a pair of whip-like tails.

Eve could not dodge the monster forever. One of the tails caught her in the chest with such forced that the pop of cracking bone echoed in the air. She was thrown forty feet, landing in a tumble of limbs. She grunted with the pain of broken bones as she spilled end over end and at last came to a sprawling stop.

The Hydra eagerly moved toward its fallen prey.

This was a whole new life for Danny, this world of magic and monsters, but new as it was, it was his world. He was part of it. No matter what Conan Doyle said, he had to help Eve. The mage was helping Ceridwen, and Eve’s battle with the Hydra was slipping by in heartbeats, so quickly that it might be over before Conan Doyle returned to the fight. Danny had to do something.

He looked around. Where are Gull and his people? He saw them in the distance and shouted for them, but they ignored him.

A groggy Eve had just climbed to her feet when the Hydra attacked again. A head struck her, its mouth clamping onto her shoulder, long venomous fangs digging into her flesh. She clawed at its face with taloned hands to little avail and shrieked in pain as the creature held fast, sinking its teeth deeper, driving her to her knees. Another of the heads lunged, biting into the opposite arm, followed by yet another that saw the potential for a strike upon one of her thighs. She fought valiantly, but the serpents’ heads would not release her, lifting her from the ground, trying to pull her apart.

Danny breathed deeply, mustering all his courage, and sprinted across the hard, dusty ground, volcanic ash rising around him. One of the Hydra’s heads whipped around, and its hideous eyes locked on him. It bared its fangs and hissed.

The demon boy hissed back, and lunged for the monster.

The man who arrived at the scene of the second atrocity in Athens looked exactly like Yannis Papathansiou, walked and talked like him, even smelled like him. But the detective was elsewhere. It was Clay who wore his face, and he entered the building with Squire in tow. The hobgoblin was hideous, but he had passed for human before, primarily because people saw his ugliness and tried to avert their eyes out of politeness. When they did stare, they thought him some kind of freak. There would be those who would wonder about the gnarled little man with Detective Papathansiou, but no one would say a word in front of Squire.

"Let me handle this," Clay whispered to the hobgoblin.

"I think we’ve finally found the perfect look for you," Squire whispered, peering over the top of his dark sunglasses, even though dawn was hours away. The hobgoblin was wearing a baseball cap that had Kiss Me I’m Greek embroidered on it, with a pair of red, luscious lips emblazoned below. Clay had considered asking where he’d gotten such a hat, but knew he would probably regret the question, so he let it go.

The detective had called them at the hotel to inform them that another stone body had been found. Clay had instructed the old man to stay home, that he and his associates would handle the investigation. Yannis had at first protested, but when Clay had explained that a fresher victim might provide better clues to lead them to their quarry, he had at last acquiesced.

Clay and Squire moved past the Thesseion temple toward the small gathering of police officers and detectives. "Not a word," Clay warned the goblin again, as a broad shouldered man with glasses approached them. Papathansiou had told him that this detective was named Dioskouri, and the other, smaller man, who had yet to notice their arrival, was Keramikous.