Christopher Golden - Tears of the Furies

Gull was still groggy from the blow to his face. "It was nothing personal," he slurred, attempting to pull his wits together enough to summon a spell to allow him to escape from the demon boy’s clutches. "Just a sad fact of the job we do. Everyone is expendable."

The youth snarled with indignation and slammed Nigel hard against the ground before pulling him close again.

"You killed her," he spat, and flecks of spittle flew from the youth’s fanged mouth to dapple his cheek.

Gull nodded in understanding. "She was drawing attention. She drew yours, didn’t she? I should have been quicker. Even had I taken her with me, she would have slowed me down."

"Fucking piece of shit, I should bite out your throat right now."

"I only did what your beloved Conan Doyle would have done if faced with a similar dilemma," Gull said. "Do you really think he wouldn’t gladly sacrifice any of his Menagerie to get what he wants?"

"Mr. Doyle would never…" Daniel started, rearing back, but then stopped midsentence, as if something in Nigel’s words struck a chord of truth.

"Oh, he would, lad," Gull continued, a smile creeping across his twisted features. "But you keep on believing him, if it makes it easier for you to sleep at night."

The boy went wild, leaping up to drag him to his feet. "I don’t need to hear any more of your bogus bullshit," he screamed.

Gull reacted, sensing his opportunity. He bellowed a spell of incineration, thrusting his already illuminated hand into the boy’s face. He cried out, but his grip did not lessen. The smell of burning flesh filled the stagnant air of the passage.

"Nice one," the demon boy said, the skin of his right cheek charred to black. "As if I wasn’t pretty enough already."

The youth moved behind him, gripping his neck and pushing the twisted mage back toward Hades’s heart, and the battle that still raged within.

"Got a little something you need to do before you go," the changeling growled in his ear. "And it involves that beautiful singing voice of yours."

"And if I won’t oblige you?" Gull asked defiantly.

The boy tightened the grip upon his neck, one of his clawed fingernails breaking the skin. Gull felt the tickling sensation of his own blood as it ran down the side of his neck to his shoulder.

"Then I’ll eat your heart."

"Fine," Gull responded, allowing himself to be maneuvered toward the doorway. "I just needed to know where we stand."

The blood of long-dead gods was rank in her mouth, but Eve was beyond caring. She sprang at one of the resurrected and buried her fangs in its throat. With a savage growl, she pulled her head back, pulling flesh and muscle away, her face bathed in gouts of foul, black blood. Again and again the vampire slaughtered these minor gods, the foot soldiers of Olympus, avoiding their swords, spears, and axes, feasting on their rancid flesh and foul-tasting life-stuff, but still it wasn’t enough. The dead continued their incessant march into the chamber. From the blood of the Fury she had feasted on, Eve had learned the names of each and every one of them, gods and demigods alike, and knew their sins as well. At that moment, they all shared a goal, to protect the treasures of Olympus at any cost.

The creatures born from the teeth of the Hydra were proving very helpful. She and her companions would have fallen to the deluge of the dead much sooner if not for their assistance. Quickly, she looked about the chamber. Ceridwen seemed to be holding her own, manipulating the elements of the Underworld to combat their relentless enemy. She wondered how much longer the Fey could keep it up. That fine-looking son of a bitch, Nick Hawkins was holding his own, not that she gave a shit.

Danny was nowhere to be found. That worried her.

She slammed her fist through the tattered remnants of the rib cage of a goddess, even as the tall, majestic creature tried to reach for her face. Eve tore her spine out through her chest.

Conan Doyle appeared at her side, as she spun around to face other enemies. A quartet of armored corpses were attempting to surround him, but Conan Doyle was not so easily taken. He wielded a pitted, ancient sword he must have taken from one of the fallen, but it was infused with a strange green fire that caused the dead gods to explode when they were cut by the blade. One after the other, he destroyed them.

"Enjoying yourself, Eve?" he asked, wearily.

"Oh, yeah, this might be the best field trip yet," Eve snarled, clawing at a black-eyed, hulking figure, spilling its viscera to the ground. "And to think, we owe it all to your buddy, Gull, and his hard-on for Medusa."

Conan Doyle muttered something beneath his breath and the soft, fleshy ground beneath their enemies’ feet turned to a bubbling, viscous fluid, swallowing six of the groaning, hideous dead before returning to its solid state.

"Gull and Medusa?" Conan Doyle asked, turning to her, a look of astonishment upon his blood-spattered face.

Eve twisted the head of an ancient god completely around with a loud, wet pop, tearing it from its roots. She rode the corpse to the ground and sprang up once more to fall in beside Conan Doyle. "That’s what this is all about. I figured you’d have sussed it out by now. Gull’s in love with Medusa and wants the tears of the Furies as some kind of cure to lift her curse. Ain’t love grand?"

Conan Doyle uttered a disgusted laugh. "Oh, that’s simply priceless." A shrieking god clad in tarnished armor forced his way past the children of the Hydra’s teeth, coming toward Conan Doyle with his spear lowered. Still deep in thought, the sorcerer did not seem to notice, and Eve moved to intercept the attack.

"Watch your — " she began, but a powerful hand wrapped around her ankle, sending her sprawling to the gore-soaked ground. One of her recent victims, it seemed, was not quite dead.

From the ground she watched it all unfold in slow motion, the spear- wielding zombie making his way toward Conan Doyle and he turned slowly, too slowly. The spear was poised for the mage’s heart, and there didn’t seem to be much that could be done to prevent it from finding its mark.

Then she heard it, rising above the din, a song as beautiful as any ever sung in her eternal lifetime. She watched in wonder as the resurrected god fell to his knees, spear clattering at Conan Doyle’s feet.

The scene was repeated all around the chamber as the song lifted through the air. The gods who had been stirred to battle by the cries of the Erinyes fell to their knees, enraptured by the voice of Orpheus.

Eve knew who was responsible, but was surprised that he had the decency to come to their aid.

Hawkins, the worse for wear and looking far less dapper, let loose a raucous cheer. He lifted a bloody battle-axe above his head as he watched his master step back into the vast cathedral of Hades’ heart. Eve almost began to believe that the spirit of camaraderie had taken hold of Gull, but the dark mage stumbled over one of the hundreds of bodies that littered the floor, and she caught sight of the demon boy behind him. At first she did not recognize the hellish visage as the boy she’d grown so fond of. Danny was changing. Quickly.

Eve felt a wave of relief. The boy reached down to haul Gull back to his feet. He pushed Gull toward them.

"It’s a good thing we decided to bring him, eh Arthur?"

Conan Doyle was looking about the room, distracted.

"Arthur?" she asked, catching his eye.

"Do you feel it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Feel what?"

"Something familiar," he snapped, moving away toward an exit from the chamber. "Hold things here while I investigate."

Conan Doyle had felt it on at least two other occasions since arriving in the Underworld, a presence of power not native to this death realm, a presence that brought about a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, and the disquieting feeling that they were being watched, maybe herded in a certain direction. At first he’d chalked it up to his own, quite active paranoia, but each time he caught wind of it, his suspicions grew. He felt it now here within the corpse of Hades, a familiar electricity that drew him away from the safety provided by the voice of Orpheus to a passage that would lead him to the unknown beyond the chamber.