He heard shouting, the crash of wood, and then the hair assaulting his faculties fell limp. Scorio fell to the ground, staggered, and dropped to his knees. His gorge rose convulsively as he hauled the rope of hair out of his mouth, wiped frantically as the strands hanging limply from his tear-blinded eyes.
Gagging, hacking violently, he looked up and saw a new figure between him and Evelyn.
It was horrific, a skeletal, distended frame of black, oily skin wrapped over protruding bones. She was tall but stood hunched over, as if ready to leap. Her legs were reverse jointed like those of a wolf, and black hair hung in long, greasy locks about her hidden visage.
And a massive, skeletal tail floated about her, looking to be made of ebon vertebrae, its tip ending in a foot-long triangular blade aimed at Evelyn.
Scorio couldn’t breathe all over again.
The room about them had continued to change. Darkness welled up the walls, filled the corners, spread and gathered and dispersed like drops of oil. Here and there duplicates of the bladed tail rose from the ground like a sepulchral tree, articulated and alive, triangular blades slashing back and forth as they shredded Evelyn’s webs.
“Well, this has been fun.” Evelyn backed toward the hole in the building’s front. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”
And she cocooned and flowed up her network of hair to disappear.
“Naomi?”
The horrific creature glared back at him, her fulminous eyes burning a virulent green.
Scorio rose to his feet. Incredulity and relief swamped him. He didn’t know what to say. How to react. He wanted to step forward and embrace her, but she bounded to the opening in the front wall and peered up. “We’ll talk after. First we kill her.”
Scorio broke into a run, raced toward the window and dove out a second time. He snapped out his wings, flared them wide so that he rose in a tight curve, and saw Evelyn making her way up the wall, suspended in the center of a caramel web that flung out ever more tendrils and retracted its lowermost anchors like an octopus making its way over rocks.
But fast.
Scorio hesitated, studied the cliff face, then flew up, straining with great beats of his wings till he reached an overhanging ledge some twenty yards above. He studied it rapidly then plunged, feet first, to crack into its rim.
Stone broke, boulders pulled free and fell.
He leaped out again, saw Evelyn pulling herself rapidly from side to side to avoid the falling debris which tore through her hair, reducing her grip on the cliff face.
Scorio inhaled deep of the Bronze. The Nightmare Lady emerged from a cloud of ink just behind Evelyn and set to climbing, more tails extruding themselves from the vertical face to slash at the Dread Blaze and her webbing.
Scorio furled his wings and dove at her feet first. Evelyn snarled up at him and he felt her immunity lock into place; at the last second he was forced to veer aside, but as he did the Nightmare Lady leaped and slashed at the Dread Blaze.
Who switched her immunity down.
Naomi cursed and gripped fast to the wall as hair swept around her wrists and sought to lever her grip away from the rocks.
Scorio rose with a flap of his wings and lunged at Evelyn once more.
Who threw a mess of hair at his face. Scorio slashed it aside, the stench of burning hair filling his nose, and slammed into her.
She immediately pulled away, funneling along an outflung rope, but Naomi was there, scampering up the wall like a horrific spider, slashing with her tail to sever the rope.
Evelyn screamed as she fell. She flung up her Shroud, blocking Naomi, hit Scorio with her immunity, and desperately resumed climbing.
But Naomi’s tails had now grown thickly about them; they slashed their great blades from the noxious shadows, cutting Evelyn’s hair in great locks and causing the Dread Blaze to fling herself from side to side.
Scorio felt the immunity leave him just as a tail went to slash Evelyn in half. He powered up and grasped Evelyn by the ankle, his talons sinking into the joint.
The Dread Blaze screamed. “Stop! Please, I’ll help you, I’ll—”
Immunity hit him and he released her, but Naomi was there to slam the point of her tail straight through Evelyn’s ribs.
Immunity left him as a Shroud materialized in its place. Scorio snarled and slammed his talons into it, again and again till it shattered.
Naomi had withdrawn her tail, circled above Evelyn so that she clung head down, eyes burning bright.
“Stop!” Evelyn was sobbing. “It’s not fair, I can help you, I never wanted any of this to happen, please—”
Scorio slashed a great wound down the back of Evelyn’s thigh. Naomi slammed her blade into the woman’s neck when immunity left her, and for a moment the Dread Blaze hung there, eyes wide, held in place by the last of her hair, then all of it lost animation and she fell.
Scorio pivoted to let her drop past him and watched as she fell, hair a shimmering banner trailing after, turning slowly as she sank into the Chasm’s depths and was gone.
Heaving for breath, he reached out for a rocky protrusion, dug his claws into the cliff face and looked up at the Nightmare Lady.
Her burning eyes were narrowed. The forest of tails were sinking back into the rock. Her own tail lashed back and forth like a furious cat’s, and then she righted herself and began to flee back up the cliff.
Scorio pushed off and flew after her. Instinct bade him remain quiet. He rose, shadowing her, and followed into a narrow tunnel opening. Landed neatly in its mouth and paused as the Nightmare Lady whipped around to glare at him once more.
“Naomi?”
She hissed. “You’re dead.”
“I might as well have been. But I’ve returned.”
“No. You’re dead. Dead dead dead.” And she fled down the tunnel.
Scorio gave chase. He reached out with his Heart’s senses, feeling the burning flicker of her Heart. It was a maze, and one she seemed to know by heart. She darted down side openings, leaped broad cracks, dropped into cramped caves, fled ever deeper.
But soon her Heart gave out and she wheeled about, shoulders heaving, black hair matted and falling in her face, her human eyes feverish and hate-filled. Her slender frame was clothed in rags, and she looked emaciated.
“You’re dead,” she hissed.
He raised both palms. “I swear I’m not. It’s me. Scorio.”
“You’re dead!” She flung herself at him, abandoning all fighting skills to hammer her fists against his scaled chest, to kick his shins, to bite at his arm.
Scorio released his scaled form and embraced her, held her as she flailed and spat and screamed.
“Naomi!” He let her pummel him, ignored the pain. “It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.”
She fought him for as long as she had strength and then she just collapsed in his arms, sobbing, brow against his shoulder. He held her close, heart breaking all over again, and slowly sank to his knees.
“You’re dead,” she wept. “You’re not real.”
Finally she subsided, his shoulder soaked by her tears, her whole body shivering. He fell against the side of the cramped tunnel and pulled her closer into his embrace, resting his head against hers.
They remained thus for a long time.
Finally she drew back, sniffed, and wiped her torn sleeve across her face. Moved away slowly, warily, to sit across from him, their legs touching, to stare at him with wild hope and fear.
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s me. I promise.”
She just stared.
He didn’t want to ask. Already knew the answer. “Leonis? Lianshi?”
She didn’t react. He was about to ask again when she finally shook her head.
What little hope her appearance had sparked died, and he hung his head.
They remained thus until he gathered his strength once more and lifted his gaze to her own. For a while, they simply studied each other.