MORTAL COILS (44 page)

Uri
tapped on the computer keyboard and the display flickered to life.

“The
League has decided to test the subjects as well,” Uri explained.

The
Board members shifted. Any mention of the others made them uncomfortable. Even
little Abby’s albino body rocked back and forth. Sealiah, too, wished she could
act against their old enemy, but they were all bound by an unbreakable
neutrality pact.

“It
was a simple matter for me to follow the children and observe,” Uri continued.

Video
appeared on-screen: a black-and-white blur that focused into a ground-level
view of a sewer tunnel and a hundred rats that jostled the lens. Squealing and
scratching noises blared from the speakers.

“The
video quality of this bit is poor, but the interesting part is the audio.” Uri
adjusted audio sliders at the bottom of the screen.

The
rat noises faded and the sound of a violin playing resolved.

The
Board members stilled.

The
music was faint, but each note was crystal clear in Sealiah’s mind. It was an
old song. A nursery rhyme. One of their songs.

“That
is ‘The Piper’s Song,’ ” Ashmed said, and stroked his fine beard.

“Have
you found our long-lost Louis?”

Uri
shook his head. “It is Eliot Post that plays.”

A
fifteen-year-old boy who played like a master? Sealiah closed her eyes and
indulged a moment; she had not heard this song since she was young and foolish
and in love.

On-screen
the rats quieted and sat on their hind legs. Some pawed at the air trying to
catch the music.

The
melody slowed and changed so a new tune interwove through the first—darker
notes that slithered and coiled.

“Reptile,”
Lev murmured, and leaned closer, pressing his head to the speaker. “That’s a
summoning!”

“A
human child could not know such things,” Oz said. “Louis must have taught him.”

Ashmed
shook his head. “We do not know if Louis is alive. We have discussed this many
times: if he lives, why can we not detect him?”

Abby
nervously twisted her centipede in her hands. The insect hissed.

“Listen
to the music,” Lev growled. “Only the Deceiver plays like that. Louis lives, I
tell you.”

The
rats scampered down the tunnel. The picture then froze and a mass of rodent
blur filled the screen.

Beal
nodded to Uri. “Fast-forward. There are more interesting bits ahead.”

Uri
tapped controls and the screen refocused to a wide-angle view of a flooded
room, an island of bones, and a crocodile.

“This
is the League’s test,” Uri explained.

He
flexed one massive hand, a gesture Sealiah recognized as nervous concern. Had
direct exposure to the music affected him? Could he actually care what happened
to the Post children?

“So
typical of the other family,” Oz remarked. “A classic beast-vanquishing. I’m
astonished they did not give them a white horse to charge in on.”

Lev
leaned back. “At least we’ll see a little blood spilled here.” He snapped his
teeth at Abby.

Beal
stood impassively, observing the Board’s reactions. Sealiah wondered what game
he played.

She
noted Ashmed, as well, watched Beal instead of the video. Ashmed then glanced
at her and gave her the slightest of approving nods.

Abby
stepped closer to the screen and touched the image of the crocodile. Her nails
left tiny indentations on the glass.

The
animal spoke to the Post children: “So death finally comes to the eater of
death.”

Oz
perked up and leaned forward. “Is that actually . . . Sobek?”

“You
will find this interesting,” Uri said, and zoomed in on the girl, Fiona. With a
hand trembling she delved into her book bag, retrieved, and then devoured a
chocolate.

“Note
the stilling of her body after she eats it,” Beal said. “The flush reaction.
She is obviously addicted.”

“A
mortal if I ever saw one,” Lev growled.

They
watched Fiona warily approach Sobek.

“Brave
though,” Ashmed noted. “There may be yet something to her.”

Lev
snorted. “I’d be brave, too, high on those things.”

Uri
adjusted the audio so that Eliot’s lullaby flooded the chamber and they
listened with rapt attention.

Sealiah
inhaled and held her breath. She blinked rapidly to clear her head and noted
that even the bubbling lava had stilled.

Oz
trilled, “Oooo, I have goose bumps. He must be one of us. Let’s grab him now.”

Abby
set her centipede down and shooed it away. Her pink eyes reddened with blood.
“These were not the terms we rolled on. We let the three temptations run their
course.”

“I
agree with Abigail,” Ashmed said. “If the boy is Louis’s and the other family
is involved, we must proceed with care. One misstep and we may lose him to them
. . . as well as any chance to break the treaty.”

“No—this
smells of Louis,” Lev told them, raising his voice. “He’s out there. Pulling
strings and laughing at us.”

Sealiah
watched the screen as Fiona pulled the iron spike from Sobek. It turned and
crushed her under one claw, but then it hesitated . . . poised to consume her
soul.

Miraculously
it allowed her to live. It let her up, then spoke to the children.

They
had charmed the monster. Impressive.

The
Board, however, failed to notice this as they continued to argue.

“Louis
alive is an impossibility,” Abby stated. “He would have been found.”

“So
how did he die?” Lev retorted. “No one here claimed the kill. That leaves the League
. . . which means they got around our ‘unbreakable’ treaty first to slit
Slyboot’s throat? I don’t believe it.”

Beal
nodded to Uri.

Uri
bowed to the Board (they ignored him) and departed.

Beal
followed, smiling.

“Bring
the boy in,” Oz said. “Let me question him. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Enough
talk!” Lev gripped the table and braced; his sweat suit ripped. The massive
stone cracked. “I’ve got a better way to settle this.” He grunted, picking up
the three-ton hunk of basalt.

The
debate was over. It appeared that the Board would skip rolling dice and go
directly to the violence portion of the agenda.

Sealiah
surmised that Beal had engineered this squabble to distract the Board . . .
long enough to let him do whatever he wanted to the Post children. Had he
summoned her hoping to involve her in the conflict, as well?

How
dare he think her easily led. Oddly, however, their goals of chaos were in
alignment. Sealiah could live with that irony, as long as in the end she won.

Abby
jumped on top of the table—now held precariously by Lev—and leapt at him.

Lev
flipped the stone, slapped her out of the air, hurling her into the lava.

He
waddled to the precipice and dropped the massive stone, yelling, “That’s what I
think of your ideas!”

Far
below Abby screamed, her anger now loosened. Gouts of flame leapt upward and
licked the ceiling.

Oz
meanwhile, crept closer and pushed Lev over the edge. He hurled smaller rocks
down at his cousins . . . as well as some amazingly archaic insults regarding
their romantic preferences.

A
wave of magma splashed up and covered Oz. He shrieked as his leather
accoutrements sizzled off.

Gunfire,
shattering glass, and screams erupted across the cavern. The Board members’
entourages were not going to stand idly and watch. Following their masters,
they were going to try to kill one another.

Sealiah
loosened her blades and backed away.

Ashmed
brushed soot from his suit and came to her. “Brilliant, no? Beal seems to win
again.”

“Does
he?”

Ashmed
smiled. “Shall we discuss it all over a glass of champagne? I saw a case of
Bollinger Vieille Vignes Françaises as I came in.” He cast his gaze through the
murderous crowds. “Ah, yes, there. Unbroken for the moment. Shall I fetch us a
bottle?”

She
tilted her head. “How could any refuse you?”

“They
cannot.” He smiled and left her side.

Abby
crawled up over stone ledge. Her pale body glowed with orange heat and her eyes
blazed. Poison dripped from her taloned hands and sizzled where it touched the
stone. She roared liquid fire—no longer Abigail the diminutive, but gigantic
Abaddon the Destroyer, frightening to all.

Beneath
her in the molten lake raged the Beast . . . not Lev, but rather the serpent
called Leviathan.

The
earth shuddered as Leviathan struck the edge of the stone. It crumbled under
Abaddon and she plunged back into the molten pool.

The
lava boiled and erupted as they fought.

Sealiah
backed to the far wall. She had no desire to get between two of her most
physically intimidating, if somewhat mentally diminutive, cousins.

A
shadow stood near her. As she had hoped, Uri had momentarily slipped away from
his new master.

“M’lady,”
he whispered.

She
heard it all in his tremulous voice: how her mighty Uri missed her. Her heart
of ice stirred, but not enough to thaw.

“There
is little time,” she said. “What game does the Lord of All That Flies play?”

“It
is Louis. He has sniffed a trace of his power in the city where the children
live.”

Could
Louis truly be alive? This complicated her plans . . . or did it present a new
facet for her to exploit?

“If
Beal attempts to contact him,” she told Uri, “offer to speak in his place. Say
the Deceiver is too dangerous. Louis may yet be the key for us.”

Uri
nodded and faded. “He calls me. I must . . .”

How
she wished he could have lingered, but even the few seconds they had had
together was fraught with danger. It had been worth it, however. Louis was back
in play? It made the game all the more dangerous and exciting.

Ashmed
returned with a bottle. “It sadly is warm. Shall we open it outside?”

He
offered her his arm and she took it. Together they strolled to the stairs,
stepping over the bleeding and broken bodies of very foolish mortals

32

A
KING ONCE MORE

Henry
watched his cousin lean against the railing. Aaron looked so somber that he
seemed to drag the black clouds looming on the horizon ever closer.

They
rode upon Cousin Gilbert’s zeppelin, The Akkadian, sailing high over the North
African coast: whitecaps and lapis waters on one side, golden gleaming desert
on the other, and in the sky cumulus humilis clouds like so many puffs of
cotton.