The Golem's Eye

more. She looked back over her shoulder again. "Mandrake wouldn't have helped me," she said.
    "Exactly. You're a smart girl. Off you go and leave him to die."
    She looked at the golem. "It's too big. I could never tackle it."
    "Especially once it's past that limousine."
    "Oh, hell." Then Kitty was running, not toward the stricken Jakob, but out across the cobblestones, toward the lumbering giant. She ignored the pain and numbness in her shoulder, ignored her friend's despairing shouts; most of all, she ignored the voices in her head ridiculing her, screaming out the danger, the futility of her action. She put her head down, increased her speed. She was no demon, no magician—she was better than they were. Greed and self-interest were not her only concerns. She scampered around the back of the golem, close enough to see the rough smears on the surface of the stone, to smell the terrible wet earthen taint that drifted in its wake. She leaped onto the bonnet of the limousine, ran along it, level with the torso of the monster.
    The sightless eyes stared forward, like those of a dead fish; above them, the third eye sparkled with malign intelligence. Its gaze was fixed firmly upon Mandrake's body; it did not perceive Kitty, at its side, jumping with all her strength to land upon the golem's back.
    The extreme cold of the surface made her gasp with pain: even with her resilience, it was like plunging into an icy stream—her breath left her, every nerve stung. Her head swam with the earthen stench, bile rose in her throat. She flung her good arm around the golem's shoulder, clung desperately. Each footstep threatened to shake her free.
    She had expected the golem to reach up and tear her off, but it did not do so. The eye did not see her; its controller could not feel her weight on the creature's body.
    Kitty reached forward with her wounded arm; her shoulder throbbed, making her cry out. She bent her elbow, reached around the front of the face, feeling for the great gaping mouth. That was what the demon had said: a manuscript, a paper, lodged inside. Her fingers touched the ice-cold stone of the face; her eyes rolled, she almost blacked out.
    It was no good. She couldn't reach the mouth—
    The golem stopped. With surprising suddenness, its back began to bend. Kitty was flung forward, almost headfirst over its shoulders. She had a brief glimpse of the lumpen hand below reaching out and down toward the unconscious boy: it would seize him by the neck, snap it like a twig.
    Still the back bent. Kitty began to topple; her grip failed. Her fingers slapped frantically against the great flat face and, all at once, lit upon the cavity of the mouth; they thrust inside. Rough cold stone... jagged snags that might almost have been teeth... something else, of a soft coarseness. She grasped at it, and in the same moment, lost all purchase on the creature's back. She tumbled forward over its shoulder, landing heavily on the prone figure of the boy.
    She lay on her back, opened her eyes, and screamed.
    The golem's face was right above her: the gaping mouth, the sightless eyes, the third eye fixed upon her, alive with fury. As she watched, the fury dimmed. The intelligence went out. The eye in the forehead was nothing but a clay oval, intricately carved, but dull and lifeless.
    Kitty raised her head stiffly, looked at her left hand.
    A scroll of yellow parchment was clutched between her finger and thumb.
    Painfully, Kitty propped herself up on her elbows. The golem was completely frozen, one fist inches from John Mandrake's face. The stonework was cracked and pitted; it might have been a statue. It no longer radiated extreme cold.
    "Mad. Quite mad." The Egyptian boy was standing beside her, hands on hips, shaking its head gently. "You're as mad as that afrit was. Still"—it indicated the magician's body—"at least you got a soft landing."
    Behind the demon, she saw Jakob approaching diffidently, wide-eyed. Kitty groaned. Her shoulder wound was bleeding again, and every muscle in her body seemed to ache. With laborious care she righted herself and stood, hauling herself up by pulling on the golem's outstretched hand.
    Jakob was gazing down at John Mandrake. Gladstone's Staff lay across his breast. "Is he dead?" He sounded hopeful.
    "He's still breathing, more's the pity." The demon sighed; looked sidelong at Kitty. "By your foolhardy actions you've condemned me to further toil." It glanced into the sky. "I would take issue with you, but