The Wondrous and the Wicked

“That’s what I thought,” Rory said, with an unmistakable edge of excitement. Gabby felt only revulsion.

 

There was a body in the water, slapping gently against the quay wall. It was so completely covered by slugs that its clothes and skin looked like they were writhing.

 

Gabby’s hand settled on the pommel of her sword, sheathed inside her long coat. “What are they?”

 

“They’re part of a bigger demon. A mollug,” he answered, sinking into a crouch. He watched the slugs wriggle away from the quay wall in a perfectly ordered line. The line curved behind a pyramid of crates and slatted wooden boxes set in front of one warehouse door, then disappeared.

 

“What do you mean, part of another demon?” Gabby asked.

 

“The mollug itself canna move quickly. It sheds its exterior—scores of these smaller slugs—and sends ’em to attack and paralyze its prey,” Rory explained, hitching a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the body below in the water. “They’re returnin’ to the mollug now. Once they reattach, the mollug’ll come out for its dinner.”

 

Her stomach kinked as Rory took the Daicrypta’s crossbow from inside his long coat and held it out for Gabby. She stared at it dumbly.

 

“Go on,” he said. It was larger than Vander’s hand crossbow, and when she took it and felt her muscles struggle to adapt, she imagined it was probably much heavier as well. She wore no gloves, and the polished steel stock slipped in her sweaty hands.

 

“We couldna’ve asked for a better demon to test this contraption on,” Rory murmured.

 

Gabby let out a breath. He was right, especially if the mollug was too lethargic to capture its own prey.

 

“All right,” she said, holding out her hand. “Just show me how to load the net … bolt … thing.”

 

Rory smiled and reached inside his coat for the bolt. Gabby stepped forward to take it—and felt something squish beneath her boot. Rory swore as Gabby lifted her foot and saw the flattened remains of one slug.

 

A high, keening wail slipped out from behind the stacked crates.

 

“Take it.” Rory shoved the bolt into Gabby’s hand. “Load it, quick.”

 

The wail died down, but Gabby’s ears still rang.

 

“Load it how? I need you to show me,” she said, her panic rising as another sound came from behind the crates. A grating, dragging sound, like the bottom of one slatted wooden box being shoved along the quay stones.

 

“Pull the bowstring back,” Rory said. Gabby dropped the bolt to the ground in order to lever the hemp back. She hadn’t yet hooked it into the latch when she saw movement at the crates. A pale, undulating blob emerged. It was taller than Rory, and without any normal features like arms or legs, or even a head. It was just a huge, jellylike tumor—and it was coming for them.

 

“Load the bolt into the groove,” Rory said, his curt instructions striking like errant pins at a dress fitting. He stood immobile, his eyes on the mollug as it heaved forward, its flat bottom slurping along the stone. One by one, the slugs climbed up onto the mollug, tucking themselves close together to form a kind of shell.

 

Gabby picked up the long bolt and tried sliding it into the groove atop the stock.

 

“It’s not working—Rory!”

 

He didn’t move to help. “Pay attention to the bow, Gabby. And turn the bolt around.”

 

She flipped the bolt and slid it into the groove easily just as the mollug increased its speed. It was less than five yards away from them now. She lifted the stock against her shoulder and aimed for the creature.

 

“Pull the trigger,” Rory said.

 

Gabby placed her index finger against the curved trigger and squeezed. The trigger stayed put. Her stomach bottomed out.

 

“Rory!”

 

“Again. Harder,” he barked.

 

Gabby crushed the trigger as hard as she could and yelped as the crossbow bucked against her shoulder. The bowstring released, propelling the bolt down the flight groove and toward the demon. The net whirled open and came down hard over the mollug. The net’s rim slammed against the ground, and Gabby heard the spikes crack through the stone, sealing the demon in place.

 

Rory clapped his hand against her shoulder, jostling her forward.

 

“Nicely done, laoch.”

 

Gabby regained her balance and jammed the stock of the crossbow into Rory’s stomach. “We could have practiced first!”

 

He coughed and pulled the weapon from her hands. “That was practice.”

 

He toed one of the slugs out of his way as he walked to the captured demon. The ones that hadn’t made it back to the mollug retreated from the net now, into the shadows and back toward the quay wall.

 

“Besides,” he said, clearly amused. “I knew ye could do it.”

 

A man’s voice sounded from close behind them: “Why shouldn’t she have been able to do as much?”

 

Gabby whirled and saw three men watching her and Rory. Two tall, burly men flanked a shorter person. For a heartbeat Gabby thought the center person was a child. But then the figure stepped forward.

 

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