Page 111 of House of Dusk
She was going to ask, but Nilos lifted a hand in warning, halting at a juncture in the maze. Sephre snapped her lips tight. Someone nearby was weeping.
“Please,” said a man’s ragged voice. “I don’t want it. You can take it.”
And so we will, mortal,came the sibilant reply.We will takeallof you. And then your mortal flesh will be our gateway to an even greater feast.
They edged closer. Sephre pressed herself to the stones, then leaned out to glimpse what lay around the corner.
It took a moment to understand what she was seeing: a twisting clot of thorny shadows glinting with dagger-cut eyes. Skotoi, in their natural—orunnatural—form. There were at least five of the things, though it was hard to tell as they swarmed together, then broke apart, like storm clouds.
They surrounded a floating blur of gray. The spirit’s features were hazy, yet familiar, for all that Sephre had only seen them once.
Castor. “That’s the shepherd from Potedia,” she whispered. The man they had both been too late to save. “What are they doing? I burned his body. They can’t use him to enter the mortal world.”
“They can still consume his spirit,” said Nilos, grimly. “Destroy the fragment of power he carries, to keep it from me.”
Sephre ground her teeth. How much weaker was Castor’s spirit because of what she’d done? He had no prayers, no grave goods to give him strength. Twenty years ago, she might have charged out and began bashing heads. Or tentacles. Even demons from the underworld must have something bashable. But this was not the sort of fight you won by bashing. Damn Beroe. If only she still carried the holy flame, she could incinerate the lot of them.
“What can we do?” she asked. “I’ve got a packet of broadleaf, a crust of stale bread, and a few good curses.”
“I don’t think the skotoi will care if you call them ass-faced weasels.”
“Can’t you—” she gestured vaguely—“use your serpent powers?”
He shook his head. “I’m stronger than a mortal, and faster, and I can heal quickly. I could probably take on two of them. Maybe three. But there’s at least six.”
Sephre chewed the inside of her cheek. As much as she wanted to arrow straight to the center of the labyrinth, to Timeus, she would not abandon Castor. Even without her flame. And besides, every fragment of power Nilos recovered would make him stronger. Better able to help her rescue her novice. Laid out like that, the answer was clear.
“That’s easy enough, then,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. “I’ll lead them away.”
Nilos looked as if she’d just suggested she go for a pleasant stroll into the caldera of Mount Pirsus.
“They want me, too. And I’m still alive. Doesn’t that make me...more tasty or something?”
“Yes. They’ll no doubt want you, if they see you. But—”
“I can take care of myself,” she overrode his protest. “I’ll lead them away and then find my way back to you. Or you find me, since you’re the one who can sense the fragments. And who knows, maybe if you take Castor’s, you’ll get some new power. Or grow fangs.”
He winced.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t really want—”
“I know.” He drew a bracing breath, and when he met her eyes again there was only a fierce determination in his gaze. “Let’s do this.”
• • •
Sephre pelted along the corridor, her breath tearing in and out. She’d lost track of the turns. As she flung herself around the next corner, she risked a glance back. The boiling darkness was still there. And the hissing whispers, even more relentless.
We know you, baleful one. Liar. Betrayer. Murderer.
Sephre gritted her teeth, running on. If she could just get far enough ahead, she might be able to lose the skotoi. She dove sideways into another passage, dashed ahead, turned. And again. And again.
No hope now of finding her way back to Nilos. She only hoped he would find her before her own flesh betrayed her. Her legs burned, each step setting something sharp stabbing in her side.
She was going to collapse if she didn’t stop, if only for a few moments. She flattened herself against the wall, trying to still her breath. Listening.
Nothing.
Fates. She’d actually done it. She’d outrun the skotoi.Well done, she told her poor, trembling legs, promising them a long soak in the nearest hot bath if they got through this alive.
