Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [165]
In a sudden flowering motion it rose behind them, filling the mirror into which they gazed, aghast.
They could see the back of Mr. X, who stood and gazed at the patterns on those wings, patterns that rolled with hypnagogic haste, the colour cells under the creature’s skin pulsing in weird dimensions.
Mr. X stepped back to see the wings better. They could not see his face.
The slake-moth held him in thrall.
It was taller than a bear. A clutch of sharp extrusions like dark cartilaginous whips blossomed from its sides and flickered out towards him. Other, smaller, sharper limbs flexed like claws.
The creature stood on legs like monkey’s arms. Three pairs jutted from its trunk. It stood now bipedally, now on four legs, now on six.
It reared up on its lower legs and a sharp tail slithered forward from between its legs for balance. Its face—
(Always those huge irregular wings, curving in strange directions, shifting in shape to fit the room, each as random and inconstant as oil on water, each a perfect reflection of the other, kept gently moving, their patterns changing, flickering in a seductive tide.)
It had no eyes that they could recognize, only two deep sunken hollows sprouting thick, flexing antennae like stubby fingers, above rows of huge slab-teeth. As Isaac watched, it cocked its head and opened that unimaginable mouth, and from it a huge, prehensile, slavering tongue unrolled.
It waved quickly through the air. Its end was coated in clumps of gossamer alveoli that pulsed as the enormous thing flailed like an elephant’s trunk.
“It’s trying to find me,” wailed Barbile, and broke, and ran for the door.
Instantly the slake-moth flickered its tongue towards the movement. There was a succession of motions far too quick to see. Some cruel organic jag snapped out and passed through Mr. X’s head as if through water. Mr. X shuddered suddenly and just as the blood began to well explosively through the sliced bone the slake-moth reached out with four of its arms, pulled him briefly closer and hurled him across the room.
He flew through the air trailing gore and bone-shards like a comet. He died before he landed.
Mr. X’s carcass slammed into Barbile’s back, sending her sprawling. He landed heavy and lifeless across the door. His eyes were open.
Lemuel, Isaac and Derkhan broke for the door.
They were shouting simultaneously in a cacophony of registers.
Lemuel leapt over Barbile, who lay supine and desperate, trying to kick free of Mr. X’s huge torso. She rolled onto her back and cried out for help. Isaac and Derkhan reached her simultaneously, and began to tug at her arms. Her eyes were tight closed.
But as they pushed Mr. X’s body free and Lemuel kicked it savagely out of the way of the door, a hard, rubbery tentacle snaked into their vision and wrapped with a whiplash motion around Barbile’s feet. She felt it and began to scream.
Derkhan and Isaac pulled hard. There was a moment of resistance, and then the slake-moth yanked at her with its tendril. Barbile was whisked out of Derkhan and Isaac’s grasp with humbling ease. She slid at breakneck speed along the floor, splinters tearing at her.
She began to scream.
Lemuel had forced the door open, and he raced out and away down the stairs without glancing back. Isaac and Derkhan stood quickly. They turned their heads simultaneously to look into the mirror.
Both gave a little cry of horror.
Barbile was squirming and screaming in the complex embrace of the slake-moth. Limbs and folds of flesh caressed her. She wriggled and her arms were held, she kicked out and her legs were pinioned.
The huge creature turned its head gently to one side, seemed to regard her with hunger and curiosity. It emitted tiny, obscene noises.
Its final pair of hands crept up and began to finger Barbile’s eyes. It touched them gently. It began trying to prise them open.
Barbile shrieked and wailed and begged for help, and Isaac and Derkhan stood paralysed, gazing into the mirror, transfixed.
With hands shaking violently, Derkhan