The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [245]
“We cannot let it escape,” Melia said. “I have to try to stop it.”
The amber-eyed lady pulled herself to her feet beside the column, her face hard, her kirtle streaming in the gale.
Falken reached for her. “No, Melia, you can’t. It will take you!”
“I must try, dear.”
Melia started to let go of the column—
—then halted as a figure drifted down from the heights of the Etherion. The figure’s black robe fluttered on the wild air. Instead of a face, a gold mask gazed from the cowl of the robe with serene, dead eyes. Without sound, the figure’s feet touched upon the stone of the balcony.
“A sorcerer!” Beltan cried.
The figure in black stepped toward them easily, unaffected by the pull of the demon. A gloved hand rose to the mask, then drew it aside. Although made of flesh, the face beneath seemed every bit as golden as the mask.
“Xemeth!” Vani said in wonder.
80.
Xemeth smiled, his face whole and perfect. Vani shook her head, her expression one of disbelief. “Xemeth, can it really be you?”
“Indeed, Vani. It is I.”
Tears rolled down Vani’s cheeks before the wind snatched them away. “But Sareth said … he said you were dead.”
“Sareth lied to you. As you can see, I am quite well. Better than well.” He moved closer.
“You’re glowing, Xemeth. What has happened to you?”
“Let us leave this place, and I will explain everything.” He held out a shining hand. “Come with me, beshala …”
Vani’s sharp eyes seemed suddenly dull, her expression slack. She started to reach a hand toward Xemeth’s.
“Vani, no,” Grace said, making her voice into a scalpel. “Xemeth is the one who freed the demon. He’s drunk the blood of the scarab.”
Vani blinked, then snatched her hand back. Xemeth’s smile turned into a leer.
“Oh, dear,” he said in a mocking voice. “My deeds have been found out. Whatever am I going to do?” Shrill laughter fell from his lips. “Wait, that’s right—I’m the greatest sorcerer in the world. I’ll do whatever I want.”
Xemeth thrust his hands above his head. Gold sparks shot upward, striking the dome of the Etherion. There was a clap of thunder, and dark lines snaked across the dome. There was a deep, roaring sound, and chunks of stone rained down from above.
Grace ducked her head, but she should have known what would happen. The stones plunged downward—then were caught by the demon’s pull, joining the spiral of matter around it.
She looked up. Now she could see real sky through a jagged hole in the dome of the Etherion. Cracks still spread outward from it. She wondered if the whole building was going to collapse. But it wouldn’t matter to the demon; the thing would eat the rubble. Xemeth had said it was still weak after its imprisonment, but with every object it consumed it would only grow stronger. And faster.
Xemeth lowered his hands, gazing at them with an expression of amazement. Then he laughed again. “This is most amusing.” He turned his molten eyes on Grace. “But what do we have here? It looks like a little mouse sneaked through the gate with me. I shall have to squash it.”
There was no time to react. Xemeth flicked a finger, and gold sparks blazed forth. Grace braced herself, waiting to be annihilated.
It was the column next to her that exploded instead. It burst apart into a spray of dust and stone shards—all of which flew toward the spinning disk of debris. Xemeth stumbled, then let out another burst of shrill laughter.
He’s intoxicated, Grace. All the signs are there—the dizziness, the poor coordination. The blood of the scarab has made him drunk, and he can’t control his new power.
“It seems I missed. But don’t worry, little mouse. I won’t miss this time.” He pointed a finger directly at her chest.
“Xemeth!” Vani said, struggling to her feet, still holding on to a column. “Why have you come for me?”
Xemeth lurched around, then took several wavering steps toward Vani. “But surely you must know, beshala. I have come to make you mine at last. As you should have been long ago.”
Vani pressed