Three doors along the formerly darkened corridor had been opened. The closest door, six feet ahead and to her right, led to the rooms on the other side of the wall from Myrmeen's old dwelling. A dull orange glow radiated from the doorway, partially illuminating the corridor. The next two doors that were open lay fifty feet away at either side of the corridor's end, before the bend the mother and daughter had taken earlier. Shafts of murky sunlight burst from these rooms, intersecting like crossed swords. A long patch of darkness stretched between the light at the end of the corridor and the dull luminescence from the nearby doorway.
Myrmeen suddenly became aware that she was not alone in the corridor. Something rose from the darkness and flew at her. Her view of the light at the end of the corridor was obscured by whatever had just taken flight, though she could not make out anything more than a vague, large shape in silhouette and could not tell how far away it had been when it began its flight. She could hear the beating of leathery wings and a steady, high-pitched squeal that grew louder with each passing second.
From the rooms next to Myrmeen's childhood home came Varina's scream a second time. Myrmeen looked back into her old quarters as an explosion shook the corridor. Suddenly the wall separating her old home from the next apartment was no longer there. Myrmeen saw the wall disintegrate, the portrait of herself with her family suddenly destroyed. A glistening, pulsating tentacle twice the size of a man hurled Burke's limp body through the opening that had been created. The bearded warrior smashed against the far wall, his heavy, armored body shattering the reproduction of her father's cherished lute.
Myrmeen heard the squeal before her grow more intense, and she redirected her gaze to the corridor. The flying creature was almost upon her. By the dull, caressing glow from the next apartment, she caught a glimpse of the monster in the light. But before her mind could assimilate what she had seen, the creature was upon her and she was overcome by its hot, sweet breath, which smelled of honey.
She reached for her sword, but by then it was too late. Tiny hands clawed at the exposed flesh of her face as Myrmeen felt a strong hand dig into the meat of her upper arm. There was a sharp tug, and she was dragged out of the monster's path. Myrmeen fell into her childhood home as the creature flitted past and disappeared from sight.
Looking up, Myrmeen saw Krystin, then noticed that there was more light in the dwelling. Apparently, at the first sign of trouble, Krystin had run to the window and had been trying to pry loose the boards that covered it in a haphazard fashion. Gaps had been left between the wooden planks, allowing streaks of light to show through and illuminate the dwelling without revealing its secrets to the world. Krystin had been successful in removing one wooden board and a second seemed ready to give.
"This is one of their lairs!" Krystin screamed. "You idiot, you led us right to them!"
From the corridor Myrmeen heard the fluttering wings of the creature outside. Before she could react, it appeared in the doorway and hovered for a moment. In that instant, Myrmeen was able to see it fully.
She was surprised by the strange beauty of the monstrosity. It had four clear, colorless wings with the intricate designs one might find on a butterfly's wings. The creature's body was black and gold, shaped in segments, with dozens of tiny arms branching off, each with distinctly human hands. She looked up at the creature's face and saw that it was not the face of a monster at all, but that of a magnificent and beauteous child with red eyes containing black, catlike slits. Its pouting Cupid lips suddenly drew back to reveal sharp, glimmering, carnivorous teeth.
Myrmeen heard a low groan behind her and knew what had captivated the monster's attention. Although she was unwilling to look away from the creature as she drew her sword and rose to face her adversary, she had caught a glimpse of Burke's unnaturally twisted body when she had been yanked into the room. He had been facing away from her, his head turned to the wall. His legs were bent at unnatural angles, obviously broken upon impact.
Burke had been one of her first teachers after her actions had gained her the attention, then the assistance, of the Harpers who had helped her to bring her father's murderer to justice. The cardinal rule that Burke had taught her about proper conduct during a battle was to never allow yourself the luxury of emotion. Step out of yourself, he had told her time and again. If a person close to you falls at your side, you can do nothing for them if you allow feelings to get in the way. Take care of the job at hand.
Myrmeen looked at Krystin's cold expression and realized that the child, at fourteen, already knew this lesson.
She also heard a soft, wet, flopping sound and knew it was the tentacle. She had seen that it could not reach more than five feet into the main body of the room, and so Burke was safe from it. In morbid fascination, she wondered what the tentacle was attached to and what had spawned the dragonfly-child, as she now thought of the creature.
"Stop dreaming!" Krystin said as she rushed forward and slammed the door shut on the creature's face. From the corridor, they heard the telltale squeal of the dragonfly-child as it prepared to launch another attack. The door buckled with the impact as the monster slammed into the hard wood then fell to the floor. Its wings beat furiously and its tiny hands reached under the door, trying to gain access. Krystin smashed one of them under the heel of her boot. With a yelp of pain, the creature retreated from the door. Krystin threw the latch and locked the door tight.
"I told you they're not human," Krystin said. "Not all of them. Why didn't you believe me?"
Myrmeen had other matters to think about. "Varina!" she screamed. "Where are you?"
"Trapped," a muffled voice responded from the next room, through the shattered wall. "Boxed into a corner. It can't get me and I can't get out. My husband! Myrmeen, is he alive?"
Krystin ran to the other side of the room and returned to the task of prying loose the boards before the heavy glass window. She knew that their only avenue of escape was to break the glass, leap to the gallery, and lower themselves to the ground, where their mounts waited.
Myrmeen had gone to Burke's side and had placed her hand on the man's neck. She felt a cool torrent of relief splash upon her as she registered a weak but steady pulse.
"He's alive!" she screamed. "But he's going to need help. I don't know if we can move him."
"We have to get out of here," Varina screamed. "Where are the others?"
"I don't know," Myrmeen said as she left Burke's side and gradually angled herself so that she could see into the room where Varina was trapped.
"Myrmeen, come on!" Krystin shouted impatiently. The girl was struggling with the boards and desperately needed help. She did not turn when she heard the sound of absolute disgust that rose from Myrmeen; Krystin had already looked into the next room and learned its secrets.
"What are you?" Myrmeen whispered, entranced by the sight of the grotesquerie in the next room. Then she corrected herself, as 'what aren't you,' would have been a more appropriate question.
The creature's body resembled a gluttonous, red-and purple-veined flower. Its quivering layers of flesh pulsated with clear sacs containing shiny black pearls the size of a man's fist. A half dozen tentacles rose from its base like the limbs of a starfish. At the core of the monster, surrounded by the obscenely pulsating pedals of flesh, was a wormlike, gelatinous trunk from which long, thin stalks protruded. At the end of each tiny stalk sat a human head. Some appeared to be alive, their eyes darting back and forth with madness and fear, their mouths working in silent screams. There were close to a dozen heads in all. Not all were alive. The necks of those who were dead seemed to be shrinking, as if the lifeless heads would be ground into the sickening mass of the creature, where the bones of humans were clearly visible. A shattered vertebrae poked out of its mass.