The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,142

its movements were clumsy and it tripped over its own feet. It clung to the edge of a table, fighting for breath. The other demons watched it spellbound.

The creature doubled up in agony, uttering howls that would have melted a heart of stone. The howls changed to groans of pleasure and its eyes filled with tears. Again it doubled up, with green froth oozing from its jaws. It gazed around with a bewildered, helpless expression, trembling all over. The leaves that clothed it from head to foot turned slate-grey and some fell off. It doubled up and groaned yet again, shaken by violent convulsions and howling like a whipped cur. Its leaves lost their last vestiges of colour and turned white. They fell off one by one, covering the floor of the laboratory like snowflakes. All that now remained of the huge predator was a bare skeleton with grey organs pumping and pulsating away inside it. Then it subsided on to its knees with a faint sound like ice splintering in the distance. Its bones and organs disintegrated into white flakes until nothing was left of it but a mound of what looked like freshly fallen snow.

The Golden Gondrag, which was nearest the door, was the first to attempt to escape, but the Snow-White Widow was seated on its back almost before it had taken a step. Wrapping her strands of hair round its limbs like an octopus capturing its prey, she bore it up to just below the ceiling. There she constricted the creature to such an extent that its body bent like a bow and its spine snapped with a horrific sound. The Gondrag screamed at the top of its voice, whereupon the Snow-White Widow simply released her grip and let it fall to the floor in a twitching heap. Then she floated slowly down and performed a graceful dance on her victim’s body, whirling on the spot and impaling it at every step with the venom-laden tips of her hair. Finally, light as thistledown, she resumed her place in the middle of the laboratory.

The Gondrag could now move nothing but its arms. It waved them convulsively and uttered falsetto screams. Its scaly skin dulled, becoming pale yellow, then grey and white. Before long nothing was left of it, too, but a skeleton that swiftly disintegrated into flakes.

The Corn Demon was next in line. The Snow-White Widow cut off its retreat in a flash, dived through the hole in its cowl - and disappeared. This was the Snow-White Widow’s most astonishing feat to date, and the remaining demons made noises expressive of consternation.

Now it was the Corn Demon’s turn to perform a dance. It heaved several of its terrible sighs, which were this time so fraught with pain that they conveyed some idea of the havoc the Snow-White Widow was wreaking inside it. Its whole body twitched and the mouldering grey cloth that enshrouded it became ever paler and more threadbare. The material split open in many places and each rent emitted a hissing jet of green vapour. Eventually, what was left of the shroud also disintegrated into white flakes. All that remained on the spot where the Corn Demon had been standing moments earlier was the deadly Snow-White Widow. She swayed gently to and fro, doubtless debating who her next victim should be.

Echo, who had seen more than enough by now, withdrew his head and crawled to the back of the furnace. He shut his eyes, but that didn’t prevent him from hearing the gruesome sounds that accompanied the rest of the Snow-White Widow’s settlement of accounts: the snapping, crunching noises as she broke every bone in the Cyclopean Mummy’s body and the Grim Reaper’s demented screams.

Silence fell at last.

Echo opened his eyes but lay absolutely still. Dissected by the bars over the furnace door, the flickering candlelight danced across the floor of his iron prison. That was all he could see.

Where in the world had Ghoolion got to?

Echo listened for his clattering footsteps, but there was nothing to be heard. No wind, and even the rain had stopped. Utter silence. What was the Snow-White Widow doing? Was she still in the laboratory, or had she moved on in search of other victims? She might be perched on top of the furnace itself or floating along the castle’s labyrinthine passages. She might be lying in wait for him just outside, or she might be quite uninterested in him. Whatever the truth, he had better remain as quiet