The Midnight Gate (30 page)

It drew back its tail as Belladonna turned the first page, then suddenly flicked it in her direction.

“No!”

Steve leapt in front of her and raised his hand. The ruler immediately turned into a heavy leather shield just as the manticore's dart found its target and embedded itself deep into the circular, worked surface.

He lowered the shield slowly and looked at the dart. A small trickle of dark goo was leaving a pale track down the leather.

“Surprise!” said the creature, smiling. “And they're poisonous too.”

Steve grabbed the spike and started trying to work it out of the shield. The manticore watched, pacing, as he struggled. It was in no hurry. It knew that these small creatures were no match for the might of an animal older than time.

Eventually, Steve worked the dart loose, but just as he got it out, Belladonna saw the tail pull back for another strike. There was no time to think: She kicked her backpack at the creature and she and Steve ran for the shelter of the pillars on the opposite side of the garden.

They dodged behind the nearest one just as the manticore released the spike, which screamed through the air, hitting the pillar and dropping to the ground.

Steve reached forward and picked it up.

“You needn't bother collecting them,” said the manticore confidently. “I'm not susceptible to my own poison.”

“Keep him talking!” whispered Belladonna as she leaned against the pillar and opened the book.

“Didn't think you were,” said Steve, as she desperately turned the pages.

“Then what are you doing?” asked the manticore.

Belladonna heard the telltale rustle of leaves and stalks and knew he was crossing the herb garden. Steve nodded his head and they ran two pillars to the left as quietly as they could. She opened the book again and tried to find a clue.

The untidy pages were scrawled with notes in English, Latin, and Greek as well as snippets of several languages she didn't recognize. Sketches, drawings, and diagrams further cluttered the pages, and copious notes in the margin made it almost certain that no one but the creator of the book would ever be able to glean anything useful from it.

It had been the last of Dr. Ashe's notebooks, a handwritten record of all his attempts at magic and of the secrets he had discovered. Belladonna had found it in a hidden cupboard at the back of the launderette that had once been his apothecary shop, but her first experience with using it and attempting to call up the Dead had made her cautious of trusting anything that Ashe had written. Still, it might offer their best chance of getting past the manticore.

“You know,” said the manticore wheedlingly, “it is entirely possible I might let you go.”

She looked up; the creature was in the walkway, zebra-striped by the shadows of the pillars. It hunkered close to the ground and was moving imperceptibly, with just the up-and-down slices of its shoulder blades revealing any forward motion at all. Belladonna wasn't fooled—she'd seen cats moving just like that when they were stalking birds in the garden, and it never ended well for the bird.

Steve had crept around the far side of the pillar, so she leaned back, pretending she hadn't noticed it, then slowly rolled around out of its line of sight. They both backed slowly toward the spider curtain while she still struggled to find something, anything, in the book.

She stood in the shadows near the curtain and froze.

“There
is
something!”

“There is?” Steve didn't dare take his eyes off the manticore.

“It's a drawing. It looks like the dart.”

She was trying to read the text next to it and keep an eye on the creature's current location at the same time, when she suddenly became aware of something on Steve's shoulder. Something that was sort of crawling.

Steve obviously felt it and reached up to brush it off. Only the tiny spider gave more resistance than he expected, and when it hit the floor, there was a definite
thunk
.

He spun around. The spider was huge. Bigger than anything Belladonna had ever seen on television documentaries, and across its abdomen were black and yellow stripes like a wasp. Steve looked pale and he was staring at the curtain. She followed his gaze and shuddered: What had been an airy net of tiny black arachnids was now a heavy brocade of interlocking tarantula-sized spiders. He backed away, stumbled over the one that he'd knocked off his shoulder, and fell to the ground. The shield flew out of his hand and landed a few feet away. Belladonna glanced quickly at the manticore, but it was just watching. A long black tongue lolled out of its mouth and licked the shining metal teeth.

“Have you met my friends?”

“They were … they were tiny,” gasped Belladonna.

“That was the lining,” said the manticore. “All well-made curtains have linings, you know.”

Steve pushed himself backward with his feet, shuffling toward the protection of a pillar while feeling for the shield. He grabbed it and picked it up as Belladonna helped him to his feet, then they both ducked behind the temporary safety of the marble column The manticore seemed amused. It extended a paw, hooked a spider on its claws, and conveyed the unlucky creature to its mouth. Belladonna winced as the jaws closed on the struggling spider until all that was left was a uselessly twitching leg dangling from the manticore's greasy beard.

She began leafing through the book again, searching for the drawing of the dart. But it was useless; her hands were shaking so much she could barely read a word. She dropped the book onto the floor and leaned her head against the cold stone of the pillar.

“It's not going to end like this,” muttered Steve. “You stay here; I'm going to try to get behind him.”

“To do
what
?”

“I don't know,” he said. “
Something
. We're not going to end up like that spider.”

Belladonna watched as he crept away down the colonnade. Was this how it was going to end? She closed her eyes and thought back to the Chemistry class where she'd first got to know Steve. She still couldn't believe that Mr. Morris hadn't noticed that he was mucking about, and she had to admit that making his shoes emit little explosions with every step was definitely a cut above the practical jokes that most of her classmates came up with. Still, she thought, her mind rambling in the face of almost certain death, there wasn't really any reason Mr. Morris would notice. Steve's concoction had only added one more ingredient to Mr. Morris's experiment, so it probably all looked quite normal to him. Plus he had those really thick glasses, so …

“That was the appetizer,” whispered the manticore, its breath hot on her ear.

Belladonna opened her eyes. The creature was right next to her! She could smell its fetid breath and all but count its rows of teeth.

She leapt away and ran. The manticore laughed, and stalked slowly in pursuit. Belladonna made it to the far end, to the door that would take them closer to the Queen of the Abyss. She grabbed the great bronze handle and pulled desperately.

It didn't open. She glanced back to see where the manticore was now, and then it hit her: Steve's solution had only had one different ingredient.

Where was he? She scanned the garden and saw him behind a pillar at the far end.

The manticore was immune to its own poison, but what if they added something to it? She looked at the small herb garden. Perhaps something from there.

“Steve!” she shouted. This was no time for whispering; the manticore was coming in for the kill. “Remember last year? In Chemistry?”

“What?”

“Do you remember!?”

“Yes, but—”

“How Mr. Morris's experiment got all messed up when you added just one extra ingredient?”

“What does…”

And then the penny dropped. Steve peeked out at her from behind the pillar and she nodded her head toward the herb garden.

“Please let this work,” she whispered, as Steve hunkered down and began to creep across the open space toward the herbs.

“You're talking to yourself,” said the manticore from the shadows. “That's never a good sign.”

She took a deep breath and ignored the creature. She knew what it was doing. She'd once seen the Williams's cat playing with a mouse it had caught. The sport for the cat was clearly in the game, not the kill. She tried to resist the temptation to look at Steve. It would be better if the manticore just focused on her.

She could see him, though, out of the corner of her eye. He was in the herb garden and examining each of the plants. Why was he doing that? None of them looked like anything from the herb gardens at home, with their neat rows of basil and oregano. Most of these plants were dark and slightly bluish, with feathery leaves or foliage like tiles. Some had small fruit dangling beneath their stems, while others spat forth spores and pods as you brushed against them. What was he doing? Why didn't he just pick one?

The manticore padded out of the shadows and stopped in front of the gate.

“It's time,” it said.

Belladonna tried to look calm, but inside her head she was screaming at Steve:
Pick one! Pick one!

He did it. He reached down and grabbed a handful of something, shoved it into his mouth, and chewed on it.

Belladonna backed away from the manticore, splashed across the reflecting pool and darted behind a pillar again. Steve joined her, spat the green goo into one hand and carefully rolled the darts in it.

“It might not work,” he whispered, “but at least we'll go down fighting. See if you can get it to come out into the open.”

“What??”

“I've only got two of his darts,” explained Steve. “I need a clear shot.”

“With what?”

“With this.”

Belladonna hadn't noticed that the shield had gone, but it had, and in its place Steve was brandishing a long narrow tube.

“Promise you'll hit it?”

“I promise.”

She smiled briefly, then stepped out into the moonlit garden again and stared at the manticore.

“Dinnertime,” it simpered.

The creature leapt forward, pushing off the ground with its powerful haunches, its front claws stretched toward its prey, the mouth gaped wide, and anticipatory drool dripping from the rows of glistening teeth.

Steve crouched and slid one of the darts into the end of the tube.

Belladonna held her breath. Every instinct told her to close her eyes, but she kept them open, watching as the creature flew toward her.

Closer.

And closer.

At the last possible moment, Steve stepped out from behind the pillar, put the tube to his mouth, and blew.

The manticore flinched in pain and dropped to the ground. Belladonna leapt up and ran toward the spider curtain and behind the nearest pillar before daring to look.

The manticore sat in the garden and removed the spike, laughing softly.

“Didn't you hear me?” it said. “I'm immune to my own poison. Stupid boy!”

It threw the spike aside and prowled toward him, its tail twitching dangerously. Steve slowly exhaled and carefully put the second dart into the blowgun.

He started to raise it to his lips, but the manticore was already upon him, its claws clacking on the stone walkway and its teeth shimmering in the half-light. This time there was nowhere to go. This time the creature had won.

Belladonna closed her eyes.

Nothing happened.

She opened them slowly and saw the manticore clawing at its own stomach, a look of surprise on its face.

“What have you done?” it hissed.

Then it stumbled, the front paws buckling under the back ones. Belladonna watched, horrified, as its eyes rolled upward and the massive creature crashed to the cold stone floor in front of Steve.

“I killed it!” he whispered, looking from the manticore to Belladonna.

Belladonna started to cross the garden.

“Wait!” He held up a hand. “It's still breathing!”

They both froze, staring at it, as deep, long breaths echoed through the colonnades.

“It's asleep!” said Belladonna.

“Let's go,” said Steve, his voice tense.

“What's the matter?”

“It's asleep. We don't know how long it'll last.”

“Right,” said Belladonna. “Good point.”

They both ran for the door and seized the handle, but it still wouldn't open. Belladonna pulled on the handle, twisted and yanked at it, but the door might as well have been part of the wall. They looked back at the manticore. It was snoring softly. Steve examined the door, felt around its edges for a hidden switch, like the one in the school library, but there was nothing.

The manticore rolled over on one side and sniffled for a moment before settling into a deep sleep again.

Then Belladonna knew—there still had to be a gift. The gift wasn't for the guardians at all—it was for her, for the Queen of the Abyss. Belladonna ran back to the manticore and retrieved Ashe's book from the walkway where she'd dropped it. She took it to the door and put it on the stone floor.

There was a soft click as the latch released and the massive bronze doors swung slowly open.

They stepped forward, triumphant in the knowledge that there was only one more gate to pass and that maybe ( just maybe) they would get the Ninth Noble after all.

 

21

The Queen of the Abyss

BELLADONNA AND STEVE
paused in the doorway while their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Behind them, the doors closed softly, gently nudging them inside.

“Heads up, girls,” whispered a throaty female voice. “Someone's made it past Louis.”

They peered into the darkness, trying to locate the owner of the voice, but couldn't see anything—which was strange because the room wasn't very big at all. It was about the size of the classrooms at school, though it was difficult to be sure, as the corners all disappeared into shadow. The walls were covered in a dusty red flocked wallpaper that left Belladonna with the impression of being inside an old jewelry box and, unlike the other rooms she'd seen in the House of Ashes, there was some furniture. A tall black grandfather clock stood against the wall to their right, though it didn't appear to be going, and a large red velvet sofa crouched in the center.