The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,67
at his talent for flying, he opened his eyes again.
The first thing he saw was his own moonlit face reflected in one of the window panes. The sight of his wrinkled features gave him a start, but then he peered more closely. He looked wrinkled, yes, but rather dashing, no? Lean and wiry, anyway. Dangerous, intimidating and sort of … well, attractive too. Yes, Echo thought he looked handsome. Up was down and ugly beautiful, sick was healthy and evil good. Nobody understood the Leathermice.
Night-time.
Time to go hunting.
Time for blood.
He left the windowsill, fluttered into the room and perched on the end of a wooden bedstead. Below him was a mound of crisp white linen bedclothes with something rising and falling at its central point: a little girl fast asleep. He could smell her and hear her. Soon he would taste her as well.
Echo was suddenly appalled by his own voracity. It was really beyond belief: his dearest wish was to sink his teeth in a little girl’s neck and drink her blood! All that was left of the Crat within him balked at this idea. Wasn’t it the most abominable impulse ever?
No, he told himself, it wasn’t. There were worse things. He’d tormented mice, tortured insects, beaten up a hamster and pushed a blind mole into a stream. As for what he’d done to that flightless canary, he preferred not to think of it. Compared to that, biting a sleeping girl in the neck was thoroughly innocuous. Why shouldn’t he? Just this once! After all, he didn’t intend to kill her, just nibble her a bit and sip her blood. So what? At this very moment a regular banquet of gore was in progress all over Malaisea - an orgy of vampirism. Was he to be the only vampire that abstained, and on what was probably the only night he would ever spend as a Leathermouse? Never! Besides, this whole episode was a kind of dream, wasn’t it? Very lifelike, admittedly, but it couldn’t be the real thing. It was all taking place in his imagination! That meant he was having a sort of dream about biting this little girl, and who could help the dreams he had?
Echo hopped down on to the bed, hitched up his wings and waddled over the mound of white bedclothes. He couldn’t help giggling more than once at the thought that he must look like something out of a Zamonian horror story.
‘Whoo!’ he whispered. ‘Nobody understands the Leathermice.’
At that moment the little girl sat up.
Opened her eyes.
Saw Echo.
And screamed with all her might.
Echo gave a terrified snarl. The little girl screamed even louder. Panic-stricken, he fluttered into the air. Loud voices could be heard outside on the landing. His ears ached, the little girl was now screaming so loudly. He flew hither and thither, and all at once the room seemed terribly cramped. There were bulky pieces of furniture, hanging lamps and vases of flowers all over the place. He collided with a birdcage and almost got entangled in the wire mesh. Then he made straight for the moon, only to hit his head on a mirror he’d mistaken for the window. Heavy footsteps could be heard outside. The door burst open and two muscular fellows armed with sticks came lumbering in.
Echo flew straight for the window. Just then, the draught created by the open door sucked the curtains into the room. Their ghostly white arms reached for him once more and this time he ended up in their clutches. His clawed feet caught in the material, entangling him in its folds, and no amount of desperate fluttering and squeaking improved his situation. He found himself hanging upside down, as firmly imprisoned as a fly in a spider’s web.
Watch out for curtains!
That was what the Leathermouse had said.
The little girl had at last stopped screaming and was imploring the two toughs to ‘kill that horrible Leathermouse’. They needed no second bidding: they dashed over to Echo and raised their sticks.
The little girl fell silent, not wanting to distract the executioners from their work. Echo’s heart was in his mouth. The two men paused for an instant, granting him the moment’s grace accorded to every criminal under sentence of death.
Echo broke the silence. ‘You’ll ruin the curtains,’ he said hoarsely.
It was the only thing that occurred to him, and pretty stupid it sounded, even to him, but its effect was remarkable. The men lowered their sticks and shrank back.