Danube's hand fell against her arm, checking her movement. She realized he had set Heaven on her feet.
"We cannot stop them by force," he said. "There are too many."
"You were fighting them like a madman a few minutes ago."
"That was to hold them back. I thought we could get away."
She jerked her head around toward him, looking at his face for an instant before glancing back toward the approaching crowd. "What do we do then?"
"Heaven has to do it," Danube said.
Gab felt her heart flutter, and she glared at him. "What?"
"They were originally summoned through her. Her thoughts gave them the form they are still using. Only she can banish them."
Gabrielle dropped to her knees at her daughter's side, wrapping her arms around the child to protect her. "What can she do?"
Danube also knelt, dropping one hand onto Heaven's shoulders. The
Gnelfs
were moving faster, the blades of their weapons swishing in the air.
The one called
Gnelf
Master moved at the forefront, clutching a pitchfork. His fangs curled over his lips as his grin twisted up his cheeks.
"So little one, you're still here. Didn't we tell you everyone would suffer?"
Grabbing Gabrielle's sleeve, Heaven buried her face against her mother's shoulder.
"Do not be afraid," Danube said. "They have no power over you. They were summoned to torment you, but the spells are gone. Turn to them, rebuke them."
Hesitantly, Heaven eased her face away from Gabrielle's shoulder and looked at Danube. "Tell them you want them to go away," Danube said,
The
Gnelfs
were pausing but not retreating. They hovered at their leader's shoulder, their heads tilted forward. The anger in their eyes made them look like wild beasts eyeing prey.
"We will destroy you all,"
Gnelf
Master said.
"No," Heaven screamed, anger and defiance in her voice. "Leave us alone. Quit hurting Mommy."
"Little one, you have no say,"
Gnelf
Master warned. "None at all." He jagged the pitchfork in front of him as if to punctuate his remarks.
"Go away," Heaven shouted. "Go away. Leave me alone."
The creature stabbed a finger toward Danube. "You have no sway here. This is our realm."
"Your realm, but you still hold the form you used to come into our world. The form you took from Heaven's thoughts. Enough. The summoning is over. She is not a conduit for you any longer. She has chosen to close the gate."
Nervously the
Gnelfs
began to grumble among themselves. They were not able to fight his words, and they began to shudder.
"Clear your thoughts of them," Danube commanded. "You too, Gabrielle."
Clutching Heaven against her, Gabrielle forced her mind to go blank. She created a black field and concentrated on keeping it blank.
"Think of something else, baby," she urged. "Think of pretty things. Lace and flowers and bluebirds."
She was reminded of a Zen exercise she'd encountered in college. They had been discussing something called a double bind, and the instructor had said, "Whatever you do, don't think of a green elephant."
Of course that was impossible. The first thing the motion-picture screen in the brain did was set off a reel of green elephants. It was the kind of thing radio advertising depended on. In her own head, she fought the images, holding them back from her black field, but how could she help a five-year-old control her thoughts?
The
Gnelfs
began to inch forward. She could hear their small feet scraping across the dry dust. They were losing steam but not giving up.
"Baby, listen to me," she said. "I want you to picture a big wide field, but whatever you do, don't think of any blue elephants grazing there. Don't think of that at all. You can think of birds or flowers, but not blue elephants."
"Mommy, I can't help it."
The
Gnelfs
' growls seemed to indicate pain now. They were frightened. They stomped the ground and rattled their weapons.
Danube placed himself between Heaven and the group. He would be able to provide some delay if they charged, but that would not be enough if Gabrielle was unsuccessful.
As she concentrated on maintaining the black field and continued making suggestions to Heaven, Gab realized she hated deceiving the child, even in this situation, but she had no choice.
"Mommy will have to spank you if you think of those blue elephants," Gabrielle scolded. "And I don't want you to picture pink monkeys on their backs."
"Mommy, I can't help it if you say it," Heaven shouted.
"You'd better. Don't think of those elephants. Don't look at them plucking orange sunflowers with their trunks.”
"
Mommieeeeeeeeeeee
."
The
Gnelfs
charged,
Gnelf
Master in the lead. He extended the pitchfork, aiming it at Danube's midsection.
Stepping to the side, Danube grasped the weapon's handle and forced the shaft backward so that the tip struck the
Gnelf
in its midsection.
The
Gnelf
was forced into the others, and they all tangled around him, spilling backward.
Angry, the little monster got to his feet and ran toward Danube, preparing to rip at him with his bare hands. Danube caught him beneath his armpits and, lifting him, slammed him to the ground with a loud thud.
Blood showed on Danube's bandages, and he staggered as he braced for the approach of the others. They didn't hurry, but they jangled their weapons and roared, a mob out for vengeance.
Heaven was on the verge of tears. With her eyes closed, she chewed her lower lip, her features twisted as she tried to obey her mother's command.
"Quit telling me," she said. "Every time you say something it comes into my mind before I can help it."
"Green birds aren't perched on the monkeys' shoulders, are they?"
Heaven stomped her feet, struggling to empty her mind. Before Gab could offer another suggestion, she screamed. The sound rose loudly, piercing the dry air, and in the same instant, the
Gnelfs
began to shudder.
Weapons slipped from their grasps, and their bodies seemed to quiver from within.
Gabrielle allowed herself to stare at them now, even as she continued whispering to Heaven, calling up every form she could imagine to keep her daughter's thoughts off the
Gnelfs
.
In the next instant, she saw Danube stepping toward her, pulling something from the folds of his coat. It was charred and black, and at first she wanted to keep him away. She thought he had been struck by some madness and was trying to harm Heaven after all.
He forced her hands aside without speaking and pushed the object he held down onto Heaven's head. It was the reason he had knelt beside Simon's ashes. He had pulled this small metal skullcap from the remains, and now Heaven wore it. It fit loosely, but he held it in place.
"It will protect her thoughts," he said, brushing soot away from the twisted images on the helm's surface. They seemed to be Greek or Hebrew in origin, not evil symbols at all but those that might be found in biblical manuscripts.
"Sorcerers use signs of light to protect them," Danube explained. "This will do the same for her."
With the helm in place, the
Gnelfs
seemed to melt, their green flesh peeling away and dropping from them like wet clay. When they burst apart, the vision was not something Gabrielle could easily comprehend. They were not without form exactly, but their forms defied her frame of reference.
They were dark things, shadowlike with gleaming eyes; and deprived of their previous shells, they scrambled about wildly. Or were they floating, like thin black veils dropped toward the ground?
The sounds they made were filled with terror, and they seemed to be seeking cover. Some of them tried to dart back toward the crowd of corpses.
Others tried to sink into the gray powder, but from above the flutter of leathery wings sounded. Danube looked up, and ducked abruptly as one of the winged things swept down. It was not after him, however. It swooped over him and dipped, snatching at one of the dark things in its claws before beating its wings to gain an upward lift.
Quickly, Danube peeled his coat off and held it in front of him the way a matador might hold a red cloth. Cautiously, he then crept back to Gabrielle's side.
She was hugging Heaven now, clutching her tightly against her breast and cooing to her.
"Everything's all right, baby," she said. "Everything's going to be all right."
More of the winged creatures came down, ear-piercing screeches raking from their beaks as they snatched even more of the veils.
"Makes sense that they wanted to venture to our realm," Danube said. "The torment for all beings is continuous here."
"Will they hurt us?" Gab shouted.
"We don't belong here. For a while they'll ignore us." He draped an arm around Gab's shoulder and led her down to the shore.
The boatman waited in front of the gondola. His ragged hand stretched slowly forward for Gabrielle's arm, and he helped her aboard.
The trip back across the gulf seemed to take an eternity, but gradually the agonizing cries from the shore faded. Gabrielle concentrated on comforting her daughter.
Heaven was crying, but she appeared relieved, and with each sob, more tension seemed to flow from her body. When they reached the far shore, Danube helped Gab from the boat, then hoisted Heaven into his arms.
"Was that real?" Gab asked. "Or some nightmare from that bastard's conjuring. Did we imagine it?"
"Is anything real?" Danube responded.
"Is the path to reality still open?" Gabrielle was still tense.
Danube nodded, then eased Heaven into Gab's arms where she seemed to want to be.
They walked a short distance, moving to the edge of the infinite darkness. Gab looked past the entrance they were about to take. Another path diverged, curling upward toward a blanket of light.
"You could go there now?"
Danube paused, his shoulders sagging with weariness. He turned his face toward the golden glow, and a gentle breeze seemed to emanate from it, sweeping back his hair and ruffling his beard.
"I could," he agreed. For a moment, he continued to look toward the bright blaze, but then he took Gabrielle's arm and guided her into the void.
Gab's head felt heavy as it lay on her pillow, her eyes peering through the darkness at the small digital clock on her night stand. It had been a gift from Dave one Christmas, its face always too bright, glowing like a college-football scoreboard.
At one time, she had kept it turned face down so that the numerals didn't blaze into her consciousness if she inadvertently shifted her face in their direction in her sleep.
Now she watched them, watched the colon between hour and minutes blink with each passing second, watched the minutes click past.
12:45
12:46
12:47
. . .
1:25
. . .
2:31
. . .
2:45
She always knew what was coming, and did not really reed the clock. Watching it only occupied her thoughts as she waited. She never knew the exact moment, only that it was on its way. As that moment drew nearer, her heartbeat quickened. It was harder to draw breath, and nothing could quell her anticipation.
3:00
3:01
3:02
3:03
And Heaven screamed, the sound piercing the night. Gab always rushed up when she heard the sound, flipping back the covers and hurrying down the hall to her daughter's side.
Sitting on the bed’s edge, she held Heaven's hand and stroked her hair. She touched her shoulder, noticed the slope of her cheeks and the way the braces on her teeth made her lips protrude.
No matter how much she urged her daughter to relax, and no matter how much counseling they sought, the dreams always returned. And with them the fear.
Heaven could not stop dreaming about the
Gnelfs
. In sleep she was vulnerable to whatever her subconscious trotted out, and they both lived in fear that at some point the dreams would be enough to bring them back.