Teeth flashed as Lemon curled up on herself and tore at the hands grabbing her. The skeleton’s wrist bones shattered into pieces, but that didn’t mean its sharp fingers stopped digging into her sides. Lemon tore at them, trying to pick them off with her teeth and her magic, but the skeleton was too strong.
Then Harmut’s blade flashed through the torch light and severed the other arm at the wrist. Lemon stumbled free and hid behind the human monster hunter while she worked to remove the last of the skeleton’s grasping digits from her.
“You alright?” Harmut asked after he finished chopping the skeleton to pieces.
“Bones are not supposed to fight back,” Lemon said. “That is not how it works. I have half a min- are you laughing at me?!”
Harmut was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a chuckle behind his hand. “No, of course not,” he said.
“You are! You’re terrible!”
“The important part is that you’re okay, Miss Lemon. But from now on, you listen to me when I said to stay behind me, alright?”
Lemon sniffed at the skeleton, which was still twitching despite having been hacked to pieces. “Okay,” she agreed.
“Good. Now, pick that torch back up and stay close. Hollington isn’t just going to wait around for us to show up.”
Lemon scrambled after Harmut, the torch hanging in the air next to them as he strode forward. His sword remained in his hand, and was put to good use several more times as more skeletons or zombies approached. The first time they walked past a corpse that had already been dismembered, Harmut stopped and said, “Lemon, can you find Nemba? We’re going around in circles down here.”
“I’m trying, but…”
“But what?”
“I can’t smell her at all. I haven’t been able to the whole time we’ve been here. And the more of these zombie things you kill, the more everything just smells like dead bodies down here.”
“You met Hollington though. Can you track him?”
“I can try,” Lemon said. She wasn’t at all certain she could pick his scent out of all the other cold-dirt-death smell lingering in the air.
Then she noticed a faint, lingering thread of something else, something the other undead didn’t have. It was that thing that warned a deer when a pack of wolves were stalking it, or a mouse that it was about to meet Midnight, that scent that alerted them to danger.
Hunger, just like she’d smelled when Hollington was standing in the street in front of her. It was hard to smell it over everything else, but it was there. Lemon put her nose down and sniffed round the catacombs, walking in tight circles as she tried to filter out the background scents.
The deeper they went, the stronger the smell got. It led them to a flight of stairs, which Harmut took without hesitation. Lemon trotted along behind him, sniffing the whole way. By the time they’d reached the bottom, the stink was noticeably stronger.
The stairs ended in a hallway that stretched left and right well past the light of their torch. Lemon paced back and forth, trying to figure out which way the smell was stronger, while Harmut squeezed the hilt of his sword and cast worried glances out into the darkness.
“Well?” he said.
“This way, I think.”
“You think? My daughter’s life is hanging on your nose. Please tell me you’re a bit more certain than you sound.”
It was completely understandable that Harmut was stressed out, so Lemon decided not to take offense at his tone. She gave him a reassuring wag of her tail and said, “We’ll find her.”
Then she walked down into the darkness, her nose leading her and Harmut towards Nemba and the vampire who’d stolen her away. There were no skeletons or zombies on this floor, at least not on the path they took. Lemon’s nose led her unerringly deeper into the catacombs, until they reached a long hall with a room at the end. It wasn’t the first one they’d found, but Lemon hesitated when they found the hall.
“The smell is coming from down there. And something else,” she said.
“Do you smell Nemba?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to tell. It’s got kind of the same smell that Hollington does, but not as strong.”
Harmut took off down the hall, startling Lemon and quickly leaving her behind. “I guess we’re doing this then,” she muttered as she took off after him. He was fast, but humans and dogs weren’t really comparable. Lemon reached him before he was half way there.
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The room had a chair so big it almost had to be called a throne, and behind that was a coffin half-buried in a mound of dirt. The lid had been set to the side, leaned up against the wall, and the interior was revealed. It was lined with some sort of red cloth, and it smelled absolutely horrible. Lying inside it, eyes closed and her chest still, was Nemba. She looked even smaller than usual in a coffin sized for an adult.
The rest of the room was decorated to accent the throne. Tapestries were hung on the walls; rich carpets were laid out on the floors. Multi-limbed stands flanked the throne on either side, each with a dozen or so candles burning in them. There were four pillars, one in each corner of the room, and several cushioned benches set up against the walls between them.
“What do you think?” a voice asked from behind them. “It’s a tad simplistic, but honestly, there was only so much I could do when I returned to find my ancestral homes in shambles. It will be the work of years to restore it to its former glory.”
Harmut whirled in place and brought his sword up. “Hollington,” he said. “Give me back my daughter.”
“Oh, I’m afraid not. She’s quite important to my plans, I’m afraid.”
Harmut advanced a step towards the vampire. “I won’t let you turn her.”
Hollington burst out laughing and said, “Turn her? What use would I have for a four-year-old vampire? No, I’m afraid I have a different purpose in mind for her.”
Harmut charged the vampire, his silver-infused sword leading the way. Still laughing, Hollingway slapped the blade aside and shoved Harmut backwards. “Oh, yes, silver. I see,” the vampire said, flexing a hand that now had burns across the palm. “Painful, but not permanent damage.”
The ceiling, formerly a featureless black vault hidden in darkness, came alive with squeaks and chirps as hundreds of bats responded to Hollington’s mental commands to flood the room. They descended on Lemon and Harmut, who was struggling to stay on his feet as they swarmed him.
Lemon barked as fast as she could while Hollington watched, an amused expression on his face. He shook his head and laughed. “You thought you were strong enough to defeat me. And the best you could do was bring a dog with a magic collar with you?”
The candles went out, all at once, plunging the room into darkness except for a small circle around the torch. Even its light was strangled by the bat swarm that rushed around the room, tearing at Harmut when they could despite Lemon’s best efforts.
She charged up her speaking charm, wasting precious seconds to get it to full power, and let out another BARK. Sound waves rolled across the room, stunning or outright killing the bats. Hollington’s expression went flat when he saw what Lemon had done. “A mutt with a magic collar is still a mutt,” he said, disappearing into the darkness and jumping back out next to Lemon.
She yelped in surprise and tried to scoot away, but he caught her collar in one hand and held her steady. “An interesting toy, though. Quite interesting indeed. Who made it for you, I wonder.”
“Let go!” Lemon yelled, scrambling to get away from the vampire. He barely seemed to notice her thrashing and squirming, even when she bit his hand. Harmut attacked again, and this time the vampire showed his sword enough respect to twist out of the way. Then he brought his hand down on Harmut’s, caught the monster’s hunter’s fingers in his own slender, pale white hands, and squeezed.
“Arrgggh!” Harmut cried out, jerking backwards. The sword tumbled out of his now crushed hand, and Hollington let him go.
He reached down, unclasped Lemon’s collar, and tore it away from her neck. For the first time in years, she no longer had any of her charms. She couldn’t talk, or pick things up, or carry stuff. She couldn’t bring her master’s potion to him without that collar. She didn’t even have access to the potion now.
Lemon barked, but it was just a normal bark now, and Hollington let her scamper off now that he had her collar in his hands. “Fascinating,” he muttered. “Does it work on anyone who wears it? Nemba, wake up and come to me.”
The little girl’s eyes snapped open and she crawled out of the coffin. “No,” Harmut whispered, cradling his crushed hand close to his chest. He scooped up his sword with his undamaged offhand and slid between Nemba and the vampire. “Stop, sweetness. Don’t listen to him. He’s a bad man.”
Laughing again, Hollington took a step back and said, “Go through him.”
Nemba attacked her father, and not daring to hurt his little girl, he could do nothing but retreat from her blows. Lemon ran back and forth frantically, unsure of how she could help without her collar. She was still a magical dog, but now she was extremely limited without her tools.
“Are you just going to dance the night away, human?” Hollington asked. “Do you think you’ll stall me until dawn?”
“Death by daylight is too good a fate for you,” Harmut said darkly as he deflected an open hand slap from his daughter. There was far more strength in it than any human puppy should have. “I’ll cut off your head, stake you, and then leave your body to burn under the sun.”
“Yes, yes, how tiresome. Can you even come up with any original threats before you die?”
Harmut spun suddenly and rushed away from his daughter to attack Hollington, and Lemon rushed forward to block her from pursuing her father. Her mind chugged along at full gear, trying to keep up with what was going on. Later on, everyone would scold her and tell her it was obvious what she should have done, she knew. That happened pretty often. But in the moment, Lemon was quite proud of herself for figuring it out.
Vampires only came out at night. That meant sunlight hurt them. They were underground, and even if they weren’t, the sun wasn’t coming up soon. It had to be daylight, specifically, since the torch didn’t seem to do anything.
But did it have to be light from the sun?
Lemon was, after all, a magical dog. The collar was nice. It helped her in so many ways every day, but it wasn’t what made her magical. She’d done that all on her own. If the vampire thought she couldn’t help without it, he had another thing coming.
She rushed to the doorway while Hollington laughed. “So much for the vaunted loyalty of a dog. It’s running away. Maybe it’s smarter than you, human. Too late for you to run now.”
Harmut turned his head to look at Lemon, hurt in his eyes, but also understanding. Lemon whuffed and wagged her tail once. She couldn’t do anything more to reassure him now. Then she reached deep for her magic, not the collar’s charms, but the part of her that was pure Lemon.
It took a few seconds for anyone to notice, but as her magic coursed through her, it quickly became obvious what was happening. Hollington’s laugh caught in his throat, and he glanced around wildly. He was the first to feel it, the one most sensitive to it.
Lemon’s fur had started to glow.