City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [136]
There was a relic standing nearby, some cone-like piece of equipment with wires leaking from the top end. At first he touched it with reverence, as if it was some cherished and holy item . . . or as if it might explode in his hands. But it didn’t, it simply remained cold and inert, and so he picked it up and left.
*
‘Good. Very good.’ Sycoraxe turned the item this way and that, beforpitting on the ground to indicate her distaste.
He observed her, half amused, half curious. She reeked of strange incense.
‘I may need two or three hours to prepare for the operation,’ she said. ‘I would meanwhile prefer it if you didn’t watch.’
‘You want me to go, I’ll go.’
‘You can stay if you wish. Your mind is exceedingly vexed tonight. You might do something rash that could jeopardize your followers, or your own life.’
You hag! I’m more than capable of looking after myself. ‘Your concern for my well-being brings a tear to my eye.’
*
He had fallen asleep, but remembered weeping before he had drifteff. Through bleary eyes he watched Sycoraxe close the door behiner, a macabre smile on her lips, flecks of blood splashed on her cheeks.
‘I have finished my preparations,’ she announced. ‘Three hours it has taken me. Three hours! And during that time, my books and theories have proven correct.’
‘What d’you mean?’ he eyed her with caution. Faintly, he heard a growl coming from somewhere. In triplicate? It was too dark to fathom much of what was going on.
‘Come, let me show you what has been created.’
It took an effort to pick himself off the chair and follow her upstairs. He felt he was still involved in some weird nightmare as she pushed open the door to her workspace.
Smoke burst out, and some smell he couldn’t place, then a strong musk followed a deeply animal aroma. The rumbles grew intense, then he saw the eyes first, three pairs of them. Dirty yellow, they were focused right on him. A momentary fear paralysed any movement.
‘What . . . the fuck . . . is this?’
‘Cerberus, that’s what it is. Three heads denoting the past, present and future. You look concerned.’
Too right I am. The creature stood slightly taller than himself, with a shiny fur coat and jaws that looked capable of shattering stone. There was something almost human about each head, and when he squinted, he could make out anthropoid features shifting beneath the flesh of the skull as if trying painfully to push free. The three necks were pulled taut, tendons flaring with a deep aggression. They acted independently of one another, as if three creatures were inhabiting a single entity, then suddenly they would become as one, something completely at accord with its own evil.
‘What does it . . . do?’ A vague question, and one more concerned with his own safety than its true purpose.
‘It knows her scent. It knows yours, too. It will hunt her through the streets of this city and fetch her back. When it does so, it will consume her.’
‘As in . . . eat?’
‘There are souls trapped within it. When it takes hers, it will join them, and thus any traces of her influence on your mind will be erased. Her soul will go to the hell realm, or so I believe.’
Cerberus lumbered up to him, each of its three heads shifting independently. Muscles rippled beneath its fur, strongly noticeable even in this dreary light. Malum could smell the creature’s rank breath and pondered at the cause of that. A head came looming down towards him, till it was almost up against his face, baring its canine jaws. But Malum stood firm, not wanting to give ground despite the threat, almost wanting to growl back. The other two heads began to sniff at him, analysing his scent as if to confirm something they already knew.
‘I’m not scared of you,’ Malum breathed.