Butterfly Catchers – Part 10

As they approached the street, Angelus found himself reaching out, adjusting the set of Will’s collar, brushing aside a stray lock of his hair. ‘Try not to say anything except what I told you.’

‘Yes, Angelus, I know.’

‘And don’t go inside. Just deliver the message at the door, say your words and come away.’

‘Yeh. I know.’

‘Do you know your words?’

‘Yes!’

Angelus shot him a growl for being rude and forcibly prevented himself from asking Will to recite them again.

‘Very well, here we are. Straight down this street and it is the second door opposite, with the ornate lamp over the door.’

‘The blue door?’

‘Yes. What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing, sir. Just checking.’

‘Now pay attention. Your best mode of retreat is to walk calmly past the church. As soon as you hear them following you, jump up the far side, along that roof, down through the town…’ Will cocked his head, and Angelus realised with relief that he probably was concentrating for once, had managed to grasp some sense of the danger of the situation. ‘And if you’re ever unsure what to do just head east. Make them think the lair is somewhere in that direction. Clear?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘I’ll be waiting for you in the Shambles. If I’m not there – which shouldn’t happen but if it does – hole up wherever you can and stay put until I find you.’

Will nodded. His jaw was rather set.

‘You’ll be fine. Impresarios are strong but they’re slow.’

Will nodded again and made to move.

‘Wait.’ Angelus reached out and patted his collar again. ‘You’ll be fine.’

Will rolled his eyes and darted off, jogging to the end of the street. He paused, looking both ways, then crossed at a steady pace, going straight up the four steps to the door. He seemed to have grown a little taller, his gait something that might have been called a swagger. The loud bang of the door-knocker thudded in the sharp air.

Angelus secreted himself in the shadow of a doorway. If anything happened he had perhaps fifty yards to cover. He tried not to think about what could happen in fifty yards. He checked the fighting-axe hidden inside his coat, settling it more loosely in its sheath.

The door opened.

‘I have a message from Angelus, master of the Aurelians in England.’ Will held out the envelope. Angelus couldn’t see whoever had answered the door, couldn’t see Will’s face, only the ramrod straightness of his back. And then Will stepped through the door.

For the next ten minutes Angelus paced. Twice he set off across the street only to turn back again at the last minute, swearing. If Will could play his part then he would be perfectly safe. Harmonia would never risk the insult of harming a senior minion of the Aurelians.

If the Impresarios touched a hair on his boy’s head he would wind their blazing entrails on a stick in front of their eyes whilst the blood dripped from their flayed bones. Will was his.

And he was going to thrash him till he howled when he got him home.

There was a crash loud enough to startle the entire sleeping town, and something fell from the window next to the newly boarded-over one, bouncing onto the cobbles with a thud.

It took Angelus perhaps a second to cover the distance and then he was helping Will to his feet amidst a cascade of glass and splintered wood.

‘He got the message,’ Will said, and then he choked up a gout of blood onto Angelus’s waistcoat.

‘Damn it, Will, what were you playing at?’

‘Needed them to believe me.’ Will coughed again, holding his side as if it hurt. ‘Needed them to…’

A shout came from the house door.

‘…follow me.’ Will took off at a run.

Angelus paused long enough to take in the size of the group of demons emerging from the house, then ignored every instinct he had and ran in the opposite direction to Will. From the pound of feet on the cobbles behind him at least some of them were following.

He sprinted down the street, trying to keep his pace smoothly flowing between fast and slow as he tried out his pursuers’ speed, making the changes gradual so they would never realise they were being tested. With disquiet he realised they were faster than he’d expected.

He was unconsciously heading towards the cathedral and he quickly broke right, moving away towards the poorer parts of town, where the streets were a narrow maze of ancient alleys and the houses leant on top of one another as if needing the support.

Three demons were behind him. Three, or possibly four, had followed Will. He didn’t think Harmonia was amongst them. Will was fast enough and Angelus had no doubt he would delight in leading them a merry dance, but his stamina was limited. However willing, Will was a fledgling and would tire quickly. Angelus didn’t have much time.

He used a drainpipe to swing up onto a rooftop and dodged behind the chimney-stack, hearing them check in the street below. A low, musical warbling rippled on the air – Impresario hunting calls, planning their next move. He heard one returning the way they had come, moving down a side-street. They were trying to flank him.

He worked his way back along the roof, just below the skyline of the ridge. The warble came again, close, just below him on the far side of the roof. He didn’t hesitate, bounding over the ridge and down, his fighting-axe plunging into the demon’s throat even as he bore down on it. With a wheeze the bubbling whistle died in its windpipe and at once the flesh began to melt, oozing into a scummy white oil that trickled between the cobble-stones.

Ahead of him the second demon lowered his head, tusks fully extended, a long knife held ready in his hand. It was Cotesia.

Angelus looked back and there was the third, edging towards him.

Somewhere across town Will was running for his life. He had to kill or otherwise dispose of these two, get back to the house and complete his task before Will became too tired.

He was between them, and the second he attacked one the other would be on his back, but for the moment they were keeping their distance, circling, trying to cut him off from the protection of having the house wall behind him.

He made false starts at first one, then the next, making them snarl and twitch but not succeeding in tempting either to charge. At bay to two wild boars, he thought, it should be the other way round. Still, if he couldn’t go forward he’d have to go up.

He made another lunge at the smaller one, raised his arm and hurled the axe, and with his freed hands he reached higher, jumped and caught the decorative overhang of the house, swinging out, he let go and twisted, to land sitting on Cotesia’s shoulders, legs wrapped around his neck.

Cotesia squealed in shock and staggered back and forth, flailing with his knife above his head.

Angelus leaned sideways, dodging the thrashing knife.

Cotesia twisted his head from side to side, trying to find an angle where he could stick his tusks into Angelus’s legs, but they were too long, the backs brushing harmlessly at Angelus’s thighs.

Angelus held on grimly with his legs, arms flailing to keep his balance. He had a knife in his coat pocket but every time he thought about grabbing for it, he had to jerk his weight back again to avoid falling or the reach of Cotesia’s blade. If he fell off he was dead

He managed to land a punch on the top of Cotesia’s head and Cotesia bellowed, thrashing even harder. The knife seemed more unattainable than ever.

Angelus caught sight of the other Impresario. He must have avoided the axe – he had picked it up and come forward but didn’t seem to know what to do either, standing helplessly gawping up at Angelus and only making occasional starts forward, raising the axe as if he would throw it but was afraid of hitting Cotesia.

‘Pull him off!’ Cotesia yelled, spluttering past his tusks. ‘Pull him down!’ And then at last he reversed his own knife and tried stabbing at Angelus’s leg.

The blade slid in like a hot jolt, but it was what Angelus had been waiting for. As Cotesia concentrated on his own blow, Angelus reached for his coat pocket and withdrew his own knife, and hammered it down through Cotesia’s skull, feeling bone part and then the brain squish as he twisted it.

Cotesia grunted. For a moment he remained upright, frozen, then he began to topple forward and Angelus sprang free, gasping as his stabbed leg took his weight. He pulled out Cotesia’s knife with a roar of pain, spun round and hurled it after the last fleeing Impresario. It caught the Impresario in the spine, making him jerk and spasm as he pitched to the ground.

Angelus stood panting, watching the bodies begin to dissolve, then he grabbed for his axe and ran. Ran as fast as only a master vampire could run. So fast that the wind tore at his ears in a howl as if the blood were pounding from his heart. So fast that the houses on either side of him, the cobbles beneath his feet, the stars overhead, all vanished. No time to register pain or doubt or anything except the pound of limbs straining to their furthest, and it was only the map of the streets unrolling in his head that kept him from crashing off course.

And then he slowed as he approached Harmonia’s house.

The street was oddly quiet, ordinary, unalert. Only the crunch of glass under his boots as he walked up showed that anything had happened. The gaping hole of the window provided a convenient way in and it was the work of seconds to swarm up to it. He hung for a moment, arms resting on the sill, aware of a sharp pain in one palm where he must have cut himself on the glass. He could feel the blood trickling, warm and ticklish across his wrist. He pushed his way up and in.

He was in the music room. Empty and spacious, long windows at each end, rows of chairs pushed back against the walls, the piano a black bulk, squat in the centre. Angelus went up to the piano, running one finger over the satiny wood as he took a deep breath, and smiled to himself. From under the piano there came a little sound – too soft for a gasp, almost just a sigh.

And then from behind him came a slow, ironical clap. ‘Mr Aurelius, how very kind of you to come.’

Angelus turned, his demon and his smile firmly in place. ‘Mr Harmonia.’

‘I wonder, Aurelian, how stupid do you think I am?’ Harmonia held the note that Will had delivered out at fingertip, as if it were grubby. ‘“I have something you want. Meet me by the bridge, alone”,’ he read out. ‘Alone? Did you really think that would work?’

‘Well, you do seem to be alone now.’

Harmonia stepped further into the room and began to circle towards him, red eyes flickering. ‘I have men on every door, vampire, you cannot get out.’

‘But I wouldn’t think of leaving. I’ve only just arrived.’

‘Spare me your famous English humour.’

‘Now, now. That’s an insult to my honour, you fat shoat.’

With a bellowing snort, Harmonia’s tusks rippled out. Then he lowered his head and charged, tusks levelled to skewer and rip open.

Angelus laughed and sprang backwards, up onto the piano, kicking the stool flying towards Harmonia then crashing up over the keyboard. ‘I’m not English, piggy. I’m Irish!’

Harmonia bellowed as the stool slammed into his knees, then he tossed it aside with a flick of his hands and stormed forward.

Angelus had a moment of balancing on a steep slippery slope, arms flailing to keep his balance, and then the piece of wood propping the piano lid open cracked and the lid closed with a clap like a canon booming as Angelus danced back onto it.

Harmonia slapped against the front of the piano, sending it trundling back several inches, casters screaming. From inside came the tortured shrieks as wires snapped. ‘Barbarian!’ Harmonia flopped over the front, flailing but unable quite to reach Angelus.

‘Want to come up?’ Angelus asked. ‘Think it will bear all that weight?’

Harmonia pushed himself up and charged round the end of the piano, heading for the waist where he could easily reach Angelus.

Angelus promptly jumped down the other side. ‘Your boys are on every door, are they? Pity you forgot the windows.’

Harmonia came on round the far side of the piano and Angelus bounded back up to safety. ‘You’re not very quick. Too much time sitting in armchairs listening to your musico warble about shady palms.’

‘You’ll never get away with this, vampire!’ Harmonia tipped his head back and called, a strange squealing, musical bellow, tusks curving right up, mouth gaping, the roar filling the whole room until it seemed to throb and pulse with rage.

‘Oh do put those tusks away, now.’ Angelus kicked out, his boot flying sweetly out to smash against Harmonia’s face with a satisfying crack as one of the tusks snapped. Harmonia’s head jerked back, his hands flying to his face as he spun round once and he dropped like a beast in the slaughterhouse, moaning.

‘Sorry, didn’t catch what you said,’ Angelus said conversationally. ‘All that spluttering makes you a bit hard to follow.’ He jumped to the ground. From downstairs he could hear shouts, the pounding of feet running towards the stairs.

‘And you were wrong – I do have something you want.’ He bent down beside the piano, tilting his head to look under it, smiling. ‘Don’t I?’

‘Vi prego, non fatemi del male.’ Pedrolino’s lisping tones sounded less pettish in Italian, letting his native emotions role off his tongue.

Angelus reached under the piano to grab for him and Pedrolino scuttled back.

‘Per favore, Signore!’

‘What’s the matter, evirato?’ He grabbed again.

Pedrolino bolted, scampering for the far side of the room in a heady stink of fear, Angelus two paces behind him, grinning as he cut Pedrolino off from the door. Pedrolino pressed himself up against the wall, eyes white, hands raised feebly as if they could somehow fend him off.

‘You don’t need to be scared of me.’

Harmonia moaned, blood frothing from his mouth, crawling towards Angelus. The shouts of approaching Impresarios were from just outside the music room door now.

Angelus wrapped his arm around Pedrolino and prepared to jump from the jagged gap of the broken window. There was no time to go back to Harmonia, but he paused for one sweet moment and whispered to Pedrolino ‘You don’t need to be scared.’ He smiled. ‘You need to be terrified.’