A Scandal in Battersea (Elemental Masters #12)(88)

“Curse this,” John muttered. “Sherlock, unless you tell me not to, I am putting up a better light. I can’t take much more of not being able to see these things clearly.”

“It’s probably better if you do that,” Holmes admitted. “We’ll be able to move faster too. Make it as bright as you can; with luck it will blind any of them that can hurl things at us.”

John needed no further encouragement. He muttered something under his breath, and a few moments later, a miniature sun blossomed over their heads, flooding the area with light.

Some of the creatures on the tops of the ridges squalled and slid down the back of the rubble pile, avoiding the light, like cockroaches or mice scuttling for cover. But others stood there, half-paralyzed, blinking in the unexpected brightness. These were all the half-seen creatures from before, squinting and looking stunned. Nan felt her fear ease just a little. “We’ll move a little faster,” Holmes muttered quietly. “We’ll take advantage of their being stunned.” And suiting actions to words, he did pick up the pace.

And for a while, Nan began to hope that the light alone would keep the monsters at bay. It looked as if most of them were about the size of a mastiff—if they attacked one at a time, she thought the group could deal with them handily, but if they rushed in a pack . . .

The rubble-mounds slowly decreased in size, which unfortunately brought the monsters nearer. A glance to the rear told Nan that there would be no escape back toward St. Paul’s—as if that had ever been an option—because the things had closed ranks and filled the street behind them. Now they were darting in and out of the ruined buildings on either side of the street, still unnervingly silent. Then they turned a corner, and the dim, beautiful green glow of Puck’s staff shone at the end of the street, showing that he was still there, and the portal was still held open.

That was when the first of the beasts got enough courage to make a rush for them.

Without John’s little sun, they’d have had no warning. Even with it, there wasn’t much warning; just sudden tension in one of the wolf-headed things, and then it was hurtling toward Nan as Neville erupted in an earsplitting scream. The scream shocked it just as it reached their group, and the Celtic Warrior’s reflexes did the rest. In the next instant the head of the creature was rolling toward the others across the rubble, and the body tumbled tail-over-blood-spurting-neck into a pile of wrecked furnishings.

She heard Selim shout something in his own language, and John cursing, but there was no time to take any of that in, because one of the spider-things was racing toward her and Agansing was fending off a second, chopping at the too-many-legs striking at him.

She swung at a black, hairy leg ending in a wicked claw or talon that arced down at her; she manage to cut off the end of it, but another whacked at the sword as she was recovering from the stroke and, to her horror, sent it hurtling straight up into the air as Agansing finished his spider and carved up hers.

No!

But the weight was off her shoulder and Neville had launched himself after the blade, intercepting it just as it reached the top of its arc and clamping his beak on it firmly. Before she could blink, he landed heavily back on her shoulder, proffering the sword. She snatched it back just in time to intercept another spider. She kept a tighter grip on her sword this time; out of the corner of her eye she caught Agansing’s technique, and copied it as best she could with her single blade.

Sweat plastered her hair to her head and ran down the back of her neck. The monsters had lost their fear of the light, and the only things to their advantage were that the creatures didn’t attack like a pack would, in a coordinated fashion, and that at least half of them were stopping to feast on the remains of the ones the humans had killed. In fact, some were running off with pieces in their maws, and others were fighting over the grisly remains.

But there seemed no end to the things. And that green beacon of safety seemed just as far away as ever. She was too frantically busy to think about fear, and yet fear knotted up her insides regardless. Her arms and legs felt as if her bones were made of lead, and she panted with effort. I don’t think—we can keep this up.

Her arm ached horribly. Neville snapped and stabbed at the things with his enormous, razor-sharp beak—in the case of the spider-things, seizing a leg, and with a vicious twist of his head, snapping it right off. In the case of everything else, stabbing out eyes when he could, and leaving deep, bleeding gashes when he couldn’t. But even he was wearying. She wanted to check on everyone else, and she didn’t dare take her eyes off the monsters for so much as a single glance. They were still moving forward, but at one hard-fought pace at a time. She was pretty sure she had been hit, but the things had some sort of venom that numbed where they struck, so she couldn’t feel the pain of her wounds. That might be the most dangerous thing of all. They could bleed to death from a hundred wounds and never realize what was happening until it was too late.

Suddenly, Mary Watson called out something in a high, clear voice. Again, Nan didn’t understand the words, but they were clearly not meant for her.

There was a low, muttering growl overhead, and all of the monsters froze, looking up in startlement and fearful silence.

“Hold on to each other!” Mary called, “Birds, take shelter with the girls!” and Neville suddenly shrunk to his normal size. Nan had just time enough to grab him from her shoulder and tuck him inside her tunic, then link arms with Agansing and John Watson, when the tempest struck.