my chest, wrenching a shuddering sigh from me. The talons, iridescent as mother-of-pearl, only added to the perfection of those hands. “Why,” I started, but the demon silenced me with a kiss.
“Dids’t thou think that I would let another come for thee, my Kit? Or dost thou think mayhap that I would not be let to come to thee?
“Dost thou believe that there are no reprieves,
No solaces in Hell, my Kit? There are,
There are, to make our damnation sharper,”
Mephistophilis said, and laughed low in his throat at my startled reaction.
“Canst thou wonder at my speech when ’tis thou
That didst teach it me? Oh, most knowing pen,
Should I then speak thee less fair than Faustus?”
My voice was torn between fear and longing as I asked, “Am I damned, then? Art thou come for me?” but my demon shook his head.
“Thou hast chosen another way, my Kit: I might else have come for thee at Deptford. Now I but caught at an opening, and it will be many and many a long year ere I come to thee again.”
“Had I as many souls as there be stars,
I’d give them all for Mephistophilis,”
I whispered brokenly.
“It is, withal, the courtesy of Hell, to let Marlowe word his own damnation,” he agreed softly, then broke my fetters with a snap of his fingers. He helped me to sit up, and wiped the noisome glyphs from my chest with arose-scented handkerchief that appeared from nowhere and vanished accordingly. He leant to brush his exquisite lips against the burns on my chest, and I shuddered at the exquisite mingling of pain and pleasure. I raised a wondering hand to that flawless face, formed of my dreams and for my damnation, and Mephistophilis caught it in his own, holding it against his cheek and leaning over to kiss me deeply and searchingly.
“Ah, my Kit, my poor crippled creator, thou couldst not make me now! I must take my leave of thee forthwith; my task is accomplished, thou art safe and my time hath sped.” He vanished in a cloud of silvery-lilac rose petals that exactly matched his eyes.
Chapter 15
Geoffrey pushed his way through the smashed window, easing himself into the firelit room, taking in the black candles and other paraphernalia, his nostrils flaring at the stench of burning herbs. His eyes moved to the pentacle and Marlowe on his knees in the center, empty hands cupped before him, empty eyes fixed upon nothing, with an expression of incalculable loss. Jehan’s wolf shape hurtled through the windows behind Geoffrey, his form changing before he hit the floor. The big man took a step forward but was held back by Geoffrey, who called softly to those outside. Sir Walter crawled through the window and glanced with some bemusement at a naked serving man where a beast should be, but dragged his attention to the pentacle. He drew a sharp breath at the condition of the unseeing form within it.” Christ Jesú!” he exclaimed, and that blank face turned to him for a second before the body crumpled to the floor and lay unmoving.
Nicolas soon followed the others in and shook his head at Geoffrey’s unspoken question before vanishing into the bowels of the house. Sir Walter had circled the pentacle, kicking over the braziers and stamping out the embers, then carefully rubbing some of the chalked figures out with the toe of his boot, muttering with disgust. He finally nodded at Jehan, who sprang to his master’s side in an instant, cradling the man in his arms.
“A thoroughly loathsome piece of work,” Ralegh growled to Geoffrey. “He was trying to conjure Cadavedere, a minor demon, ‘the eater of the dead’, into the circle with Kit.” Before they could explore the ramifications of this Nicolas returned, his mouth twisted with revulsion.
“You had best come and see this for yourself, Geoffrey,” he said tonelessly, leading him to the chamber that had served as Marlowe’s prison. Geoffrey’s soft cursing was the only sound for a time as he examined the room. He turned to his companion, cold fury clouding his sight.” It is worse, even, than you think,” Nicolas said quietly, showing Geoffrey the cup, its interior still filmed with the young vampire’s dark blood, and then held out the fleam. Geoffrey took it wordlessly and studied it. That it was not made of metal, as he had expected, testified to its purpose. He closed his grip on the instrument, breaking it to splinters, and cast the bits from him in disgust. Nicolas