Christopher Golden - Tears of the Furies

"You’re in Greece?" she asked, immediately curious. "What does Danny think of that? He’s always wanted to travel and — "

"He ain’t with us," Squire said, potato-shaped head popping out from beneath the dark overcoats. "He’s with Mr. Doyle, Ceridwen, and Eve."

A knot immediately began to twist in her stomach. "You mean Leonard… Dr. Graves isn’t with him?"

Squire shook his head. "Nope, Casper’s with me." He disappeared again underneath the coats. "Titanium mesh net, titanium mesh net, titanium mesh net."

Danny’s in perfectly good hands, she thought to herself. Sure, Leonard is elsewhere, but he still has Mr. Doyle, Eve, and Ceridwen to look after him. There’s no reason to worry.

Is there?

"Got it!" Squire yelled. He crawled out from the bottom of the closet hauling a thick net of what appeared to be woven metal. "I knew I’d left it around here somewhere," he said, a victorious smile gracing his grotesque features.

"So do you know if he’s okay?" she asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

Squire shrugged. "Couldn’t tell ya, babe. The kid could be pushin’ up daisies for all I know." The goblin laughed uproariously. "Just kiddin’, I’m sure he’s fine. I wouldn’t worry."

Too late for that, she thought, immediately picturing herself on a plane to Greece, traveling to identify the body of her son killed doing God knew what.

"Hey, listen," Squire said, bending down to again go to the back of the closet. "I gotta get back to work. It was nice chattin’ with you. If I see the kid I’ll let him know you were asking for him."

With those words, he was gone, disappearing inside a patch of shadow, like a rabbit going down into its hole. Julia could do nothing but stare into the closet, mouth agape. Closing the closet door, she stood in the foyer, her mind a jumble. The thought of going home to her empty house, to sit and wait by the phone until Danny got back and finally got around to calling her was not appealing in the least.

She was going to wait for him to return.

Julia Ferrick left the foyer and walked into Mr. Doyle’s study, going straight for the liquor cabinet. She was going to need all the help she could to keep her wits about her.

She found the scotch and poured herself a double.

A terrible malaise had fallen upon Ceridwen. Her body shivered with weakness and her vision was clouded as though cataracts veiled her eyes. Yet she refused to allow Arthur to see how this transition to the Underworld was affecting her. Faerie was her home, and her relationship with the elements there, with nature, was nearly symbiotic. If her life did not precisely depend on that rapport, her health could certainly be affected by it. Traveling from Faerie to Arthur’s world — the Blight — was not difficult. For millennia, the two realms had been connected, and their natures were not dissimilar, their elemental forces kin to one another, sisters, in a way.

This horrid place was merely a distant cousin, and a withered, sickly, and malevolent cousin at that. Cut off from the elements of the Blight, she was weakened, and though she could feel the elements of this place all around her, they did not welcome her. Nor did she relish their touch. In truth, the moment she had entered the Underworld the flame had snuffed out at the center of the ice sphere atop her staff, and then the ice had begun to melt.

It was good to her now only as a walking stick. Though Arthur had seen that she was unsteady, Ceridwen did her best to put her weight on the staff rather than entirely upon him. He would have danger enough to combat without worrying overmuch about her.

That had been her concern during their initial descent into the Underworld, and the moment she heard Danny Ferrick scream, it became reality. When the demon boy crested the ridge ahead, the look of terror etched on his face forced Ceridwen to summon all of the strength and courage remaining to her.

It was precious little preparation for the sight that confronted her next. The three-headed dog scrabbled up the rocks in pursuit, grunting, eyes glistening crimson in the gloom. The weight of its three heads ought to have thrown off its balance, but its body was wide and built for that burden, and it was agile enough. The hound came to an abrupt halt the moment it saw that its prey was not alone.

"Cerberus," Conan Doyle whispered at her side, obviously in awe of the gigantic beast that now regarded them with three sets of crimson eyes. Other than those few odd flutterings in the cave above them, it was the first real sign of life they’d seen since passing beyond the gates, but judging by the stink that radiated from the hound, she wondered if it was truly alive at all. The great dog reeked of death and decay, and she could see spots where the flesh was missing, exposing stringy sinew and yellow bone.

Danny ran toward Eve. She marched forward to meet him, the bottom of her brown leather coat flapping behind her in a sudden gust of sulfurous air from below.

"Stop running," the vampire snapped.

The demon boy brought himself up short upon her command, moving to her side quickly, though his expression was dubious. "Do you not see the dog?"

"Yeah. And me without a really big newspaper," Eve sneered. "There’s nowhere to run, kid. The only way to live is to win."

They all remained perfectly still, allowing the dog to familiarize itself with their scents. It continued to growl threateningly as each of its heads paused to study them individually. Ceridwen assumed that now that it had more than one target, it was assessing their vulnerability, deciding which of them it would try to catch and eat first.

Then its growl turned to a high-pitched whine and it tensed upon its haunches, its hackles rising as it prepared to attack. She had already noted the fragile wall to the right of the dog, where it crouched on the ridge of steps leading up from the floor of the Underworld. Without a further thought she put her own pain and illness aside and began to call upon the elemental forces. Cut off from the elements of Faerie, or even the Blight, she was forced to tap into the elements of the Underworld.

Ceridwen screamed. Unimaginable pain wracked her body as the ugly nature of that realm fought her, for this was a place of death and it cared not for the requests of the living. Then, abruptly, tainted brackish water spun in a circle around the top of her staff and solidified into ice, and a sickly yellow flame sparked to life within. She cried out once again, her muscles tightening painfully as the connection was made, as the filth and death of the Underworld seeped into her flesh and bone. A putrid orange light crackled around her staff, and then elemental fire surged from the icy sphere atop it and struck at the cave wall.

A portion of the wall shattered and thousands of pounds of stone crashed down onto the ridge… but too late. Cerberus bounded toward them as the rock wall fell harmlessly behind the hound. There was an ancient, empty hunger in its eyes.

Nausea roiled in Ceridwen’s belly as she tried to summon the elements once more, but she was met with painful resistance. She slumped to the ground, sapped of strength, watching helplessly as Conan Doyle lunged forward to meet the giant dog’s attack.

"Heeeyahhhh!" he cried out, advancing toward the beast.

Cerberus paused, crouching low to the ground. But Conan Doyle showed no fear, glaring into its eyes.

"Back off, you damned fool!" Eve shouted, sprinting to his side.

Conan Doyle risked a quick glance toward the vampiress and the dog sensed its opportunity. With a snarl that came not only from each throat but from deep in their shared chest, Cerberus sprang at him. Ceridwen wanted to close her eyes, but she could not look away.