The Centaur (33 page)

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“Abaddon?” Mark Andrew used the toe of his boot to nudge the crumpled figure of the dark angel. He lay in a disheveled heap in the middle of the plush Persian rug. After a moment or two, he raised his head slowly and looked at Mark. He had taken on his original form and looked very much like the old style image of the devil from the illustrations of a medieval Bible. His leathery wings were tucked around his equally leathery body and his scaled face and red eyes were wet with tears. It was a highly disturbing and incongruous sight to see the devil crying.

Mark knelt on one knee beside him and looked into his glowing eyes.

“Abaddon? Are you all right?” He asked again.

“I am ruined, Master.” Abaddon hung his head and pressed his clawed hands against his face. The pain in his voice actually made Mark’s heart hurt.

“What happened? Why are you like this?” Mark looked around the deserted bedchamber. It was opulent, fit for a queen, even in desperate times.

Only moments before, he had been forced to hide in a rat infested fissure opened by the bombardment, when the queen mother had come from the room, leaving behind the piteous Lord of Scorpions. Abaddon’s long, spiked tail twitched and swished back and forth in agitation.

“She made me,” he wailed. “She made me take off my human form, Master. She wanted to see my hideous nature.”

“You’re not hideous,” Mark lied and cringed before standing up. “You’re just…. Abysmal. Some might find you quite attractive.” Mark moved around the room looking for anything useful. The skull perhaps or the silver braid.

“She took it with her.” Abaddon stood up and made a terrible face. “She took everything!”

“
Shhhh!” Mark placed one finger on his lips and shook his head. “She might hear you. Be quiet. Don’t worry.”

“But I am ruined! I am impure. I have been violated, Master. Horribly violated. You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I might understand more than you think.” Mark continued to poke about the room, using his sword to move cushions, pillows and clothing aside. “I might understand more than you can ever know. You’ll live. Trust me.”

“But, Master!” Abaddon followed him about the room. His clawed toenails clicked on the marble floor and his tail knocked over a lamp and a small table. “Inanna will never have me back now. She will learn about my indiscretion and she will shun me. Did you speak to her?”

“I haven’t had the chance yet.” Mark raised one eyebrow, but did not dare look back at the miserable beast. “She’s been busy, you know. What with the war and all. Quite helpful, very helpful. You would have been proud of her.”

“Then you have seen her often.” Some of the pain left the dark angel’s voice to be replaced with curiosity.

“Not often. I have seen her a few times, yes.” Mark pulled the top from a decorative urn and then wrinkled his nose at the smell of heavy incense.

“And she is well? I heard of her
passings, but did not dare show myself. She doesn’t know about me, does she? I mean, she would not have recognized me, would she?”

“No, no. I don’t think she would have known you. In fact, I’m sure of it.” The Knight of Death got down on the floor and looked under the bed.

“That is good to hear, Master.” Abaddon sat down on a table and the expensive piece of furniture splintered under his weight. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He stood up again as Mark finished his search.

“Is she still wearing the necklace?” Mark asked him as he headed for the door.

“Yes, but she doesn’t like it. She will not allow the Tuathan near her.”

“That’s too bad. It might have…” Mark stopped suddenly and held up one hand.

Abaddon rose up on his toes and sniffed the air.

“Brimstone!” Mark spat the word and started for the door just as the first crack appeared in the ceiling of the room. A low rumble issued from the floor below them and the entire floor began to vibrate.

Water was flowing down the hall in a thin sheet before they reached the stairs. They made it to the fifth level and started down the dim corridor toward the cell where the healer waited for them in the dark. Mark pulled up short again and turned back toward the stairs, holding up his hand to signal the dark angel to be quiet. Someone was coming down the stairs. A golden light shone through the wire-glassed windows and the sound of footsteps echoed hollowly beyond the door.

“Elves!” Abaddon hissed and Mark shook his head.

“Not elves.”

The Knight looked around quickly and saw no place to hide. He took up a defensive stance with the golden sword held out in front of him while Abaddon leaned and swayed behind him with reptilian movements, turning his head first one way and then another as he listened to the sound of looming danger.

“Perhaps they will pass,” Mark whispered and then the doors burst inward, blinding them momentarily in brilliant light. “Perhaps not, “Mark amended as he surveyed the problem.

Lucifer led the charge from the stairwell. His red cloak flapped behind him and his eyes blazed when he recognized the form of Abaddon, the Destroyer, silhouetted in the angelic light.

“Apollyon!” Lucifer drew up in front of Mark and smiled. His warriors piled in close behind him, each of them staring curiously at the appalling form of the demonic Scorpion Lord, known to some as Apollyon.

A low growl issued from the dark angel and he crouched, ready to leap into action. Desperation had turned to a suicidal rage at seeing his old enemy.

“Uriel,” Lucifer greeted Mark in a more cordial tone. “What a surprise to see you here protecting this worm. Has your heart turned so black? How long have you been consorting with the enemy?”

“You have always been quick to condemn and slow to learn, Lucifer.” Mark moved slightly to one side, putting himself directly in front of Abaddon. “Have you no room in your heart for forgiveness? No room in your mind for thoughts contrary to your own perceptions? Still you have learned no humility. Still you have not learned your place. Things are not always as Lucifer deems.”

“You would protect him?” Lucifer was not listening and Mark was no match for thirteen fully armed angelic warriors.

“He serves me now, Lucifer. I would ask your indulgence for a while and a bit. When things are cleared up here, you and Abaddon can settle your differences in a more hospitable environment. Now is not the time to bring up old grievances.” Mark ducked as a sizable piece of the ceiling fell beside him. White powder was
sifting down from the ceiling as the vibration below their feet grew in strength. The rumble was becoming louder and the ominous sound of gurgling water issued from the open stairwell.

Mark eyed the angelic chieftain steadily for several seconds. It seemed Lucifer was trying to make up his mind concerning Mark’s proposal. He had expected to find Abaddon here, but not Uriel.

A commotion erupted behind the angels and Omar pushed his way through them, stopping in front of his grandfather. He looked from Mark to the dark angel and then to Lucifer in confusion. There were many more people crowded in behind the angels and many voices could be heard shouting warnings that something was coming up the stairs.

“Grandfather? Lucifer?” Omar jerked his head back and forth quickly, expecting an answer.

“I suggest we vacate this area immediately,” Mark raised both eyebrows as water poured into the corridor from both directions. In the brief semi-silence that followed his suggestion, a plaintive voice calling for help issued from behind one of the closed doors.

Lucifer pointed his sword toward Abaddon as he and his band backed down the hallway in unison.

“I will see you topside, Apollyon.” His last words echoed down the hall as the invading forces beat a hasty retreat up the stairs.

Omar remained in the corridor. The water was ankle deep. Selwig called out to them again.

“Selwig!” Mark rushed forward, sloshing through the water.  He opened the door, which had become jammed on fallen debris and the healer rushed into the hall, splashing water everywhere, babbling about his futile attempts to open the door and then, he shrieked at the sight of the Scorpion Lord.

Mark grabbed Selwig’s arm and dragged him toward the stairs. Abaddon followed after them, drowning out the sound of Omar’s voice as he splashed and growled at the rising water. It was already knee deep by the time they reached the stairs. Mark shoved the Tuathan up the steps and allowed Abaddon to follow as he looked around for Omar and saw him still standing in the hallway.

“Come on now, laddie!” He shouted for his grandson.

“I can’t, grandfather,” Omar shook his head. “I have to find her. It is my duty.”

“Ye’ll nae foind ’er in th’ dark!” Mark shouted and started back for him. “She’s comin’ up with more than we can tackle ’ere! Ye’ll drown before ye see ’er.”

Omar laughed slightly and then seemed to melt into the water. His purple and white clothing floated in the dark swirling water where he had been.

“Omar!” Mark shouted desperately and splashed through the water.

He stopped when he was bumped by something very solid in the water that was already up to his waist and rising rapidly. The nose of a sleek purplish dolphin broke the surface of the water and the beast looked at him from one blue eye and winked. The wondrous creature looked like it was smiling at him when it disappeared under the surface again. Mark turned again and started back toward the flooded stairwell. He caught sight of the tail of the dolphin’s tail slapping the water before disappearing down the shaft.

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Mark Andrew bounded down the stairs from the third floor, shouting Sophia’s name in desperation. She was not in the house. Both their bedrooms had been ransacked. Someone had been here, looking for something and Sophia must have surprised them. Only Nicholas and Gregory had been found tussling on the rug in their room when he had burst in on them and neither had heard or seen anything out of the ordinary. The brothers had gone off to search the lower levels and alert the soldiers.

Mark had to find Sophia and where was Bari? He’d left Nicole in the woods. His mind ran in several directions at once. He had to find whoever had broken into their home and learn what this was about. All these questions and thoughts flooded his head as he stormed down the hall and then he was struck by something very peculiar. He stopped before reaching the stairs and turned his head slowly from side to side. The wallpaper had changed? Or was it his imagination? The wood wainscoting seemed darker as well and the light pouring in through the stained glass windows should not have been there. He had barely beaten the storm home and it could be no more than three in the morning at best.

“Hello?” He asked tentatively when he heard soft footsteps on the stairs.

A woman’s head appeared above the level of the top step. Her face was pale and her eyes wide with fright.

“Hello?” She answered him and then her shoulders appeared as she climbed carefully up another step or two. “Who’s there?”

“Sophia?” He could not see her face very well. The light was between them. She had dark hair piled atop her head and as she came into view, he could see she wore a long gown of green or blue. Not Sophia.

“John?” The voice was vaguely familiar, and then his heart lurched as he recognized the face and the voice at once.

“Lily?” The name whispered into the dust motes floating in the still air seemed to echo in his mind forever.

“John!” She picked up her skirt in one hand and rushed toward him. “It is you!”

He caught her in his arms as she threw herself at his neck and kissed him fervently on the cheeks and then on the lips. He returned the kiss briefly and then pushed her away.

“What are you doing here? How did you… where did you… I don’t understand!” She was totally flustered and her cheeks burned deep pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I should have knocked…” He looked about in confusion. This was his house and not his house. Lily had never seen this house. It had been built centuries after her death. What she was doing here was the question. He gathered her into his arms and then walked her toward the stairs. “Is Sir Timothy… here?”

“No, he’s not, God rest his soul,” Lily Ramsay crossed herself out of habit and then clutched his arm. “By all the saints, John, you don’t look a day older than last I saw you. Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story,” he hedged and continued to look around in confusion. Something terrible had happened and he had missed it.

“It’s so good to see you.” She seemed to gather her wits rather quickly as they reached the first floor. The wooden floor gleamed as never before. “I do so love to hear the news. We have so few visitors these days.”

“Why is that?” He asked as she opened the doors to the parlor.

“I suppose it’s the isolation,” she commented and then held out her hand toward the familiar room. “Mark said we should be safe here. I rarely know what day it is anymore. Won’t you sit down? I’ll fetch some tea and we can talk.”

“I really need to be going, Lily.” He frowned and glanced toward the front doors, wondering what he would find if he opened them.