Pip said, his child’s voice ringing out, “Papa said you come from hell. We will send you back there, and the vicar says demons roast in hell.”
And suddenly there he was, not the demon in his own form but as Lily’s uncle, disheveled, his hair greasy and standing on end, leaning heavily on the snake-head ebony cane, his breath heaving, looking like he would fall over.
A hollow echoing voice shouted from Viscount Fielding’s mouth, “I told your miserable wizard father I do not come from hell! I have come for what is mine. Give her to me and I will let the lot of you live.”
Grayson saw Max was ready to leap on Fielding, shook his head at him. He said calmly, “Thurian came to me in my dreams because he said he could not reach you. He wants you back, Prithius. War is coming, and he needs your help. Will you go back and fight with your own kind?”
The echoing voice shouted, “No! You lie. Thurian wants me back only to destroy me. I will remain here, with her, with Lilith—no, Lily. I must have her.” He raised the snake-head cane and waved it madly about, nearly tottering over. Suddenly, Viscount Fielding fell to the floor, and like a snake shedding its skin, what arose from Fielding’s body was an incredibly beautiful man, tall, well-formed, golden hair swirling about his perfect face as if blown by an unseen wind. He wore only a loincloth, his golden flesh glistening. In his hand he held the snake-head cane. “I will smite all of you if you do not give her to me!”
Max growled in fury, shouted, “You will not have Lily, Prithius. If you try to take her, I will kill you,” and he raised the knife.
Lily took Max’s hand, squeezed. He stared down at this precious child, realized suddenly there was something very different about her, something he didn’t understand. She seemed filled with light, her eyes bright as diamonds. She called out, her voice sounding older, sarcasm dripping from her words, “I know you must have a witch to stay in our realm. Do you think I would accept you, you ridiculous creature? You present yourself as this golden god, but you are hiding your real self. I can smell you, demon. I can smell your foul ugliness. Go back to your realm or I will let Max kill you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The beautiful golden god rose straight off the ground, hovered six feet in the air. His voice boomed out like thunder. “How dare you call me ugly! I am beautiful, a human man all your women here want. They all beg me to take them. I am sought after, I am welcomed. Come to me, Lilith—Lily—accept me, and together we will rule this benighted world.”
Lily laughed again, a mocking, adult laugh. “Show yourself in your true form, demon, and if you please me, I will consider becoming one with you.”
“Do you prefer this, little witch? Do I now please you?”
The glorious golden young man seemed to flatten in the air itself, then slowly what emerged was still a man, but he was black and white with no depth, like a piece of foolscap. What emerged from the flat slash of a mouth was, “I live in the world of dreams I make and control. I glory in them. Little witch, I can be anything you wish. Behold.”
He began to whirl around, showing figures—men both old and young, some ancient, wearing togas, some in long-ago armor, until Lily, still in that adult voice, yelled, “Stop, Prithius! You bore me with your absurd show. I would not want you in any form, in any age. You are nothing to me. I do not need you to govern this land. If I wish, I can do it by myself. Now, you pathetic demon, show yourself as you really are. I command you.” She thrust out her hands toward him.
Slowly, a large, nearly transparent column rose eight feet into the air. It moved this way and that, undulating as if pushed from side to side by unseen currents. They could see no bones, no skeleton. At the top of the gray column sat a long, narrow head of sorts and a face with protuberant nearly white eyes, a long flat nose, a seam of a mouth, the whole of it smeared nearly flat into the column itself. Long arms waved like seaweed. No muscles, no bone, and at the end were hands of a sort with long waving fingers like spiders, twisting and spinning in the air. His undulating arms rose over his demon’s head, higher and higher until the spider fingertips touched the vaulted ceiling. A voice came out of that flat-seamed mouth—a chant, strange guttural sounds that seemed to flow together. Oddly, Grayson understood, and he said the words aloud as the demon spit them into the silent air.“By all the spirits here and below, by all my brethren from before and after, come to me, destroy these humans. Give me the child!”
Thick air swirled about the drawing room in mad bursts as if spewed from the demon’s unseen mouth.“Bring the winds, destroy, destroy! Now!”
Suddenly, the thick air shimmered around Lily, grew calm, and a filmy white veil surrounded her. Then the white veil moved in front of Lily and a woman’s hollow voice rang out, deep and harsh, as if unused for a very long time, yet all understood the words.“None of your brethren are here, Prithius, none claim kinship with you. You have taken a forbidden human body and imprisoned a child. You are a pestilence. Go back to Manna. You will not take the human child.”
The huge pillar began to shimmer, still swaying, and from the flat mouth a voice yelled, loud and vicious, filling the room, “I know about you, you accursed ghost. You are known as Lady Hilda. You were nothing in life and nothing now but a specter trapped here for eternity. I can destroy you with but a thought. My brethren will come, they must. Get away from the child! She is mine.”
One of the demon’s boneless arms stretched itself toward Lady Hilda, and a bolt of red lightning shot out the tips of the undulating fingers.
Before Grayson or Max could act, Lily jumped in front of the white veil, shouted, “You will not hurt her!” She grabbed the red bolt before it went into the filmy white and hurled it back toward Prithius.
It sank deep and all could see it, violent deep red spreading out, filling the column. There was a loud groan. Red sparks flew outward. The column shuddered wildly, moving back and forth, side to side, folding upon itself, nearly touching the floor. Then it steadied and was once again a gigantic column. The red dissipated, disappeared, and the column that was Prithius was once again transparent.
Lily said, her voice ringing out, filling the room, “Heed me, demon, I am a witch. I accept my power. Now I will kill you.” And the small child, her blonde hair now haloing her head, her eyes focused on the demon, raised her fists. She said, her voice powerful, “You will fade into nothingness, Prithius. You will go back to your kind, you will never come back to my realm again, or I will cut you into small pieces and burn them in a deep pit.”
All stood mesmerized, silent, adults and children. Pip and Brady were each squeezing one of Grayson’s hands so hard his fingers were white. P.C. was plastered against her mother’s side. Miranda looked calm, expectant. As for Max, he was pale, disbelief and amazement a potent mix on his face, the knife still clutched in his hand. He was staring at Lily, then at the white filmy creature that was the ghost, Lady Hilda.
Slowly, Lily raised her arm, pointed a finger at the column. She smiled, said to Grayson, “Please, sir, remove this pathetic demon. I know you read how to dismiss him forever from our world.”
Grayson said slowly, his voice somehow carrying throughout the large room, “Your kind is waiting, Prithius, to escort you to hell where your master awaits, ready to punish you for eternity.” And he waved his fist at the demon.
Everyone stood watching, breaths held, a silent tableau. The huge column pulsed and swirled, undulating madly faster and faster until there was a sudden whoosh, as if the air had been sucked out of the shattered window, and the demon was gone. Then there was no wind, only silence.
Lily’s voice called out, again a child’s voice, “Lady Hilda, thank you.”
The soft white film very slowly faded, leaving the echo of a distant voice. “I am at last free. Thank you, Lily.”Then she was gone.
Sunlight filled the room through the shattered windows.
Pip said, “Papa, was that the ghost, Lady Hilda?”
It was Lily who answered. "Yes, Pip, she was very, very old, trapped here because she murdered her husband, not the other way around as the legend goes. She felt to me she could only be free if she performed a good deed, and she did. She’s gone now.” She took Max’s hand, smiled up at him. “We’re free too, Max.”
