Gabriel's Clock (17 page)

Crow opened his awful mouth and let out a scream that sounded like a wounded animal. The voice inside Jonathan exulted in such exquisite vengeance, then tore Crow's right arm clean off at the shoulder.

“No!”
cried Jonathan. “Grandfather, help me!” But deep down he knew he was on his own. The genie was out of the bottle, and it could kill him even as it tried to save him.

Black blood poured from the wounded Crow as he thrashed in the grip of Jonathan's wings. Finished with the demon's arm, the ribbons made to wrap themselves round Crow's throat. All Jonathan could feel was pain and anger—he wished desperately for all this to stop, but his wings wouldn't listen . . .

“Jonathan!” screamed Cay as she appeared in the kitchen door.

He looked at her and saw absolute horror in her face. It wasn't Crow she was looking at; it was him—at what he had become.

I'm a monster,
he thought, and with this realization his wings simply winked out of existence like a snuffed candle.

The wounded Crow dropped to the floor and swung round to grab Cay with his remaining arm. She shrieked and pounded at the demon with all her strength, but Crow seemed oblivious. Leaving the dazed Jonathan kneeling and retching on the kitchen floor, the Corvidae smashed through the back door, dragging the terrified Cay with him . . .

 

Ignatius watched as Raven stumbled onto the narrow earthen bank that dammed one side of the village pond. He knew she couldn't outrun him—the pain and blood loss from her injuries must have weakened her. Glancing at the cottages that bordered the green, Ignatius could see faces at windows, doors opening.

“Stay inside!”
he bellowed as Angus McFadden started to leave his cottage, a poker in his hand. Ignatius knew that if he didn't stop them, every inhabitant of Hobbes End would try to come to his aid and probably get themselves torn to pieces doing it. Around the corner by the church rushed Professor Morgenstern, clutching a box of what may well have been his homemade hand grenades.

“No!”
Ignatius shouted as he ran.
“This is my fight!”

The villagers looked on in horrified indecision as Ignatius plowed onward toward Raven.

The demon reached the middle of the dam and stopped, steadying herself on the wheel that worked the sluice gate. With obvious effort she forced herself upright, adjusting her bowler hat as she turned to face her pursuer.

With careful steps Ignatius followed Raven onto the dam, stopping just outside her reach. He raised his sword to his forehead in a grim salute.

“It looks like we have an audience,” hissed Raven, nodding at the villagers as they hesitantly stood at the far edge of the green, wanting to do something but unsure how to help.

“It's their home you've invaded,” snarled Ignatius. “They get to see your punishment.” With blinding speed he thrust at Raven's shoulder, aiming for where he'd shot her. She screamed in agony as the rapier hit home, piercing deeply into her flesh. Enraged, the demon swung wildly at Ignatius, one of her talons opening a gash across his forehead.

“Damn!”
he shouted, trying to stop blood flowing into his eyes. Raven gave a gurgling, inhuman chuckle, then taunted Ignatius by licking his blood from her hand.

A scream erupted from behind the village shop. It sounded like a young girl.

“Cay!”
said Ignatius, and he instinctively turned to look. It was all the opening that Raven needed. With a hiss, she swung her fist and caught him a terrible blow to the side of the head.

The world spun, and Ignatius dropped to the ground as if poleaxed. His rapier slipped from his fingers, and he watched in despair as it rolled off the dam and into the dark water of the pond. With a splash, the sword was gone.

Raven pushed the dazed Ignatius onto his back, crouching astride him and pinning his arms with her knees. He fought for breath and tried with all his fading might to tear himself from Raven's grasp, and he could feel the village doing all it could to help him, but she was too strong.

“Now, little man,” hissed Raven, “let me show you what I dare to do!” With deliberate, almost theatrical slowness, she raised her hand in order to strike him dead . . .

 

Elgar shot from his hiding place and struck the garden gate head on, slamming it shut in front of Rook.

The demon smashed into the now-closed gate, almost tearing it from its hinges. Unfortunately for Rook they held, and he glared at Elgar through a cloud of smoke.

“Traitor,” he hissed.

“Yep,” said Elgar. “Looks that way, doesn't it?”

Still clutching Isobel's handle, Grimm watched aghast as Rook began hammering at the gate, only to stop and give vent to one final, terrible howl. Then he burst into flames.

The tattered suit went first. Then his skin peeled away to reveal the scaly humanoid form of the demon beneath. It was absolutely horrible. Within seconds Rook was reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash, staining the lawn a diseased black.

Grimm and Elgar stood open-mouthed until the sound of people shouting snapped them back to reality.

“Oh, hell!” shouted Grimm. “Come on, cat, we're not finished yet!”

They ran as fast as they could from the garden, vaulting over Rook's remains and thundering down the drive. Clearing the main gates, they could see Ignatius pinned to the ground by Raven, her hand raised to strike.

From the other side of the green the villagers, led by Angus McFadden, were charging round toward the dam. Fast as he was, Grimm knew that neither he nor Angus would get to Ignatius in time.

“Run, cat!”
he shouted.

Not needing further encouragement, Elgar dropped his head low and streaked across the green like a furry black missile. Without breaking stride, Grimm voiced a quick and silent prayer, then threw Isobel's handle with all his might.

Just as Raven's taloned hand began its descent, Isobel's remains struck her square on the back of the head, knocking her bowler hat off and into the pond. With a roar she swung herself around, only to hear the shout of
“Incoming!”
for the second time that week.

A ball of fury hit her full in the face and began biting and scratching for all he was worth. Screeching in pain, Raven had to use both hands to get hold of Elgar and fling him away. She turned back to Ignatius. It was then
she saw that while she struggled with Elgar, the vicar had managed to free his right hand from beneath her knee. Pressed against her chest, right next to her rotten heart, was the hard steel muzzle of an old Webley revolver.

Demon and cleric stared impassively at each other. Then Ignatius pulled the trigger.

There was a muffled report, and Raven's body jerked backward. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she stared in disbelief at the smoking hole in her breast pocket. Black blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and with an almost human sigh she toppled from the dam to land with a splash in the pond.

Ignatius lay back on the damp earth, blood in his eyes and Sebastian's old revolver still clutched in his hand. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. A moment later he felt a weight on his chest and a cold wet nose pressed up against his. There was a faint aroma of kippers.

“You all right?” asked Elgar.

“Yes, cat,” said Ignatius, a lump in his throat as he gently stroked the fur on Elgar's back. “I'm all right.”

A shaking of the earth signaled Grimm's approach, closely followed by that of Angus and the rest of the villagers.

“You still alive in there?” boomed Grimm, a daft grin plastered across his face.

“Aye, are ye hurt?” asked Angus.

Too overcome to speak, Ignatius let Grimm help him to his feet.

“Elgar and I got jumped by Rook,” said Grimm. “But he's been reduced to a stain on the back lawn. And as for Raven . . .”

They looked at the demon's body as it floated face-down in the pond below, bowler hat bobbing next to her in the water.

“Um . . .” said Elgar.

“What's wrong?” asked Ignatius.

“Well, not wanting to pee on your chips, Zorro,” said Elgar, “but aren't there three of these things?”

Before anyone could respond, they heard a cry from the direction of the village shop. Turning to look, they saw Mr. and Mrs. Flynn half dragging Jonathan toward them. His clothing was torn, and he had blood on his face.

“They've got Cay,” he cried out. “They've got Cay!”

Chapter 16

It was almost midnight, and the vicarage bore a startling resemblance to a military field hospital. Upstairs, Kenneth and Joanne Forrester were staying in Ignatius's room. Kenneth had been knocked unconscious, but apart from a large lump on his forehead his lupine constitution ensured his quick recovery. Joanne was a different matter entirely, and it wasn't until she opened her eyes that Grimm decided not to take her to the local hospital. Joanne's silent distress over Cay's abduction was painfully obvious however, and the pleading on her face as she held Kenneth's hand came close to breaking Grimm's heart.

“Let's have a look at that shoulder, old boy,” said Ignatius, forcing Grimm to take a seat in the kitchen. Grimm grumbled but let his friend apply badly needed antiseptic and bandages to his chest and shoulder.

“Did you manage to open the sluice gate?” asked Ignatius.

“Yep,” said Grimm. “The pond should be empty by morning.”

“Excellent. And did you retrieve Raven's corpse?”

“Well, sort of. I was checking the body when I found something on a chain round her neck. No sooner had I unfastened it than her body burst into flames. It looks like the one Rook was wearing before I knocked it off him. Come to think of it, he caught fire shortly afterward too. I think it confirms Jonathan's theory.”

“What does?” asked Jonathan, walking into the kitchen and slumping wearily into a chair.

“This vial,” said Ignatius, holding it up to the light and peering at the tiny black shard inside. “You figured it out, my boy. You figured out how the Corvidae could get in. Very well done.”

“So they were using pieces of Gabriel's wings to shield themselves?” asked Jonathan.

Ignatius nodded. “Belial could never enter Hobbes End himself—there's no hiding the power of an archdemon—but the Corvidae are a different matter. Belial must have known what the meteorite really was, so he stole it and used it to hide what he was up to.”

Grimm frowned. “But how did a bit of Gabriel's wings hide the Corvidae from the village?”

“It's deceptively simple,” said Ignatius. “The wing is the angel, the angel is the wing. There is no difference. Hobbes End is sentient because so much of Gabriel's power is here, burned into the earth beneath the pond. Just like his wings, Hobbes End is part of him. When the Corvidae wore these vials containing fragments of his wings, they were hidden beneath a cloak of grace. No wonder the village was so uneasy; it could sense the Corvidae but it just couldn't see them!” He opened the vial and tipped the contents into his hand. They all peered at what looked like a small sliver of charcoal, then gasped as it crumbled to dust in front of their eyes.

“What just happened?” asked Jonathan.

“Hobbes End has taken Gabriel's power back,” said Ignatius. “It couldn't see the demons while they had possession of these fragments, but it gradually sucked the power from them. The Corvidae would have had to replace them each time they came back here.”

“Do you think they've run out of meteorite?” asked Grimm.

“I don't think it matters now,” said Ignatius. “Two of the Corvidae are dead, and Crow isn't going to come back in a hurry, nor does he need to. Belial has the leverage he requires.”

Jonathan went pale at the thought of Cay being used as a hostage, as a bargaining chip.

“Are you all right?” asked Grimm.

“No,” said Jonathan. “I lost control yesterday and it almost killed me.” He bit his lip. “And I just keep seeing Cay's face when she saw what I'd done to Crow. So Belial's taken my entire family, and now he's taken my friend too. I just don't know what to do. I want to help, but I daren't use my wings again—it's too dangerous. The thought of Cay being hurt and alone, though, makes me feel sick.”

“We know, Jonathan,” Ignatius reassured him. “But there's nothing we can do now apart from get patched up and wait. Belial wants something, and I bet we find out what it is very soon.”

“Why didn't Crow take me, too?” asked Jonathan. “I was in so much pain, I couldn't fight back. I thought Belial wanted me.”

Ignatius paused in his bandaging of Grimm's shoulder and stared at Jonathan. “You're right,” he said. “That is strange. Why would he take Cay when he could easily have taken you? Belial won't have given up on his plans, so why leave you behind, unless . . . ?”