Part 20 (2/2)

'Harlot,' she said, scratching.

The giant was moving fast now, wringing the necks of the bandits one by one, and tossing them in a pile. Christabel was playing the harpsichord in ecstasy, her train flowing in the wind.

'Come on, girl,' said Genevieve, who was tugging at a blank-eyed Kloszowski.

Antonia allowed herself to be led out of the hall.

'Mine, mine'

'Fire, fire!'

XXVII.

Christabel couldn't remember who she really was. It didn't matter. Since she had come to Udolpho, she had been home.

Her new lover had killed Zschokke. Now, he would ravage the rest of her enemies. The last of the steward's bandit crew was down, dead inside his crushed armour.

She slammed the harpsichord lid shut, and held out her arms, feeling the cold caress of the wind on her body.

Ravaglioli was crawling out of the vaults into the hall. She nodded, and the giant stepped on her father's back.

Tanja, the lizard-maid, flicked out a long, forked tongue and caught a fly.

'Merciful Shallya,' said Flaminea as the strangling cord went around her neck. Christabel pulled tight.

'Fire, fire'

Pintaldi tossed a torch into the air, and it came down in burning pieces.

Christabel's train caught light, and the flames licked up around her in an instant, spreading to Flaminea.

'Harlot,' her mother croaked, spitting.

Christabel kept the noose tight, even as the fire grew around them. Pintaldi was right. The flames were cold, and cutting. Pintaldi was on fire himself, spreading his flames everywhere, embracing everyone.

They were all there. Schedoni, Ravaglioli, Vathek, Ambrosio, Dr. Valdemar, Flaminea, Zschokke, Pintaldi, Montoni, the maids. The fires spread throughout the great hall. Another wing would be ravaged before the storm extinguished it all. The giant stood unmoved by the blaze. There were others with him. Flamineo, the Phantom Huntsman. The Blue Face of Udolpho. The Strangling Steward. The Wailing Abbess. The Spectre Bride. The Bleeding Baronet. And many, many more.

Christabel felt her face melting and knew it would not be forever.

XXVIII.

The rain was dying out, and it was nearly dawn.

Kloszowski lay on the ground while Genevieve and Antonia watched the House of Udolpho burn.

'Will it be forever?'

'No,' Genevieve said. 'It'll remake itself. It's a strange spell. Something Old Melmoth whipped up.'

'Was anyone part of the original family?'

'I don't know. I think maybe Schedoni. And Dr. Valdemar is a real doctor.'

Kloszowski sat up, and the women turned to him.

'M-Montoni?' Antonia asked.

He shook his head.

'He thought he was a revolutionist,' Antonia explained to the vampire.

'I am a revolutionist,' he protested.

'It'll pa.s.s.'

'But I am.'

Another tower toppled into the ruin, gold gleaming for an instant in the first light before a belch of black smoke obscured it. As one section of the house crumbled, another grew like an accelerated plant, walls piling up, windows gla.s.sing over, roofbeams stretching creakily across the spine. The House of Udolpho was unbeatable.

'We can't stay here,' Genevieve said. 'We've got to skirt round the estate, keeping well clear of it. The spell is far reaching, and persistent. Then maybe we can make our way to Bretonnia.'

'Will they go on?'

Genevieve looked at him. 'I think so, Aleksandr. Until Old Melmoth finally dies. Then maybe they'll all wake up.'

'Fools.'

'We all believe in fairy tales,' the vampire said.

<script>