Maggie is right down there, and they’re stalling.
He took a step back.
Lilith didn’t notice. She was saying, “Agreed,” and then she pointed at the Corporal’s nose. “However, your men better come through. If they punk out and leave me to fight a dragon alone, I’ll kill all of them. Slowly. And I’ll make your death last the longest.”
The Corporal smiled. “Agreed.”
“Boston’s yours,” she said. “Good luck keeping it.”
An enthusiastic smile took the Corporal’s face, and Haniel suspected he’d had plans for Boston all along. Lofty plans.
He stepped back farther.
Finch asked, “Where’s the dragon?”
“Where else but in a castle?” Lilith pointed. “Tell your people to keep up. We’re sneaking up on an airborne monster from ancient Mesopotamia, and I doubt we’ll take him by surprise. Numbers are our best bet.”
“Wait a minute,” Finch said, squaring off with the Corporal, “I’ve been working for Sister for years longer than you. Shouldn’t I get a prize? I mean, a queen can have more than one prince, can’t she? I look great in a suit. Shouldn’t I get a bigger portion of treasure?”
“Not now, Finch,” the Corporal said.
“But—”
“Not fucking now!”
Finch scowled. “I get a big gun, though, right?”
This time, when Haniel stepped away he bumped right into another vampire. A stinky, bony, hungry-looking one. The vamp pushed past him and reached for the chest of guns. A feeding frenzy began as the grunts fought over too few weapons.
Maggie was so close.
He glanced at the fortress on the horizon. The love of his life was just out of reach. Maybe he’d die trying to reach her. Maybe the dragon would kill every one of these vampires and burn down the city. It didn’t matter.
I love you, he swore, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt you again.
Haniel ducked away and ran.
Chapter 24
The Corporal leered at Lilith, leaning closer.
Oh, jeez, he looks like a squashed rodent.
“We’ll wait until we have eyes on the dragon,” Lilith said. “Better to dispose of him first than to be ambushed in a small space.”
And she didn’t want the Lazarites to storm the castle, realize there was no treasure, and abandon her before the dragon even arrived.
“Storm’s coming,” Corporal said.
She glanced up.
Low-hanging clouds blanketed the murky sky, and Boston’s skyline rose upward like thorns that might rip the heavens open and unleash a torrent. A dragon might be lurking up there, but she couldn’t see it, not even with her spectacular eyesight. An angel could be prancing through the clouds directly above her head, and she wouldn’t know. Worse, she’d recruited a traitorous mob to help her out. Everything and anything could go wrong.
Maybe she’d wait in the truck and let the army handle it.
“Since we’ve got time to kill,” the Corporal said, “why don’t you and I get to know each other?”
A smarter politician would have played coy, but Lilith couldn’t stomach it. He was unsatisfactory in every way. She couldn’t keep the sneer off her lips.
No chance in hell, she thought, and said, “Don’t test me, Corporal.”
He stared like he was evaluating his odds of forcing her. He reeked like a turd doused in hair tonic, and she hoped he wouldn’t make a move. Every ounce of energy she spent fending him off was energy she didn’t have to fight the humbaba.
He dropped his gaze.
“Where’s the dragon?” he asked, rubbing his hands together, the sinews of his arms popping and roiling like whips, waves…snakes.
Could I turn a tendon or a muscle into a snake?
No, she decided. Probably not, not if I can’t see it.
But if she knew precisely where a muscle was and how tendons hitched it to a bone, shouldn’t she be able to transform it? Was her spark limited by what she could see? Or maybe it was only limited by what she could imagine?
The boulder of power swelled within her and begged for release, but she couldn’t relent. She felt achingly full, and not in a good way. Ceaseless pressure stretched her from inside. Ignoring it hurt, but that’s what she did.
She glanced around.
While the Corporal and Lilith had stared at each other, her thinking about smacking him and him thinking about overpowering her (if his narrowed eyes and roving look was anything to judge by), the hapless buffoon, Haniel, had disappeared.
Her pulse fluttered. She scoured the mob, and by the time she spotted him, he was halfway across the frozen bay, knees pumping, machine gun swinging.
“Motherf—”
The vampires charged after him, leaving Lilith to cuss and rage in the snow. Vampires poured out onto the ice, crossing the bay, pursuing Haniel. He had a good headstart, and the vamps would take a while to catch up with him, but he smelled more human every day; would the army fight alongside him? Or would the hungry bastards give into their prey drive and bleed Haniel dry? To them, Haniel wasn’t the precious key to unlocking the most powerful weapon of heaven, no, he was a snack.
She growled.
Her magic-laden body felt stiff, constipated. She sure as hell didn’t want to run. But why should she? She smiled, fished inside her pocket for the keys, and turned back to the truck.
Getting the key in the ignition and starting the engine was easy. The pedals were almost too far away, so she slumped in her seat, which meant she had to crane her neck to see over the dash. Once she situated one foot on the clutch and another on the gas, she slammed it into gear and let it rip.
The truck leapt forward and promptly died.
Grumbling, she tried again, but if she couldn’t get the truck moving then she might as well light it on fire and toss it into the ocean.
This time, she played gentle with the clutch and eased onto the accelerator and the truck rolled pleasantly across the field. She whooped, stomped on the gas, and pursued Haniel. He was only about half a mile away, but that put him dangerously close to being the first one in the castle.
She floored it. The engine raced and whirred, and started to whine. The stink of burning fuel and hot wiring poured out of the vehicle and made her think about bailing out. While she was staring at the blinking dashboard, something big bounced off the front fender.
Thunk. She’d run something over. A vampire? Haniel? She couldn’t see him through the throng of Lazarites. Oh, hell, had she killed him? Lilith pulled both feet off the pedals and clutched the wheel in terror. The truck stopped with a jolt, smashing her chest against the steering wheel, whacking air from her lungs.
She wheezed. “Jesus hell,” she gasped, vowing never to drive a vehicle again, and immediately disembarked.
“Haniel!” she shouted as soon as her feet settled on the ice.
He was running—losing speed, but still going—and she raced out to catch him.
He raised his arm and hoisted a finger.
She laughed, happy the bastard was still upright. The parcel bounced on her hip and the army rushed the castle. For a moment, the night was silent except for the footfalls of a hundred-and-forty vampires, plus her.
Despite feeling like a dry twig, Lilith sprinted past the other vampires, her eyes tacked on the sole figure leading the pack.
Suddenly, Haniel stopped. Something was wrong, Lilith knew it, and every nerve in her body trembled with anticipation.
At the tip of the peninsula, a figure emerged from the ocean.
Lilith braced herself for the long-awaited sight of their dragon, but all she saw was a man. A tall, lithe, golden-haired man. His large chest and shoulders tapered dramatically to narrow hips, long legs. He didn’t look avian, but he didn’t register as serpentine, either. From a distance, his ramrod straight spine resembled a tree trunk.
He wasn’t what she expected.
Her heart deflated. She felt cheated. Until then, she hadn�
��t realized how much she wanted to see the rare dragon.
She closed the distance between herself and Haniel, terrified he’d try to fight the dragon man-to-man, or whatever.
The humbaba strolled toward the fortress. His glistening body dragged the briny scent of the ocean with him. His limbs were damp, his hair dripped onto his straight neck and round shoulders.
Haniel bellowed like a bull. Snips of sulfur lit the air as his temper flared and minions manifested.
She yelled, “Stop,” wasting her breath. She ran on. The spark burned in her chest, scratching like a bag of angry kittens.
Haniel lifted the machine gun, steadied himself, pointed the weapon—
The humbaba stood even straighter, like an arrow, like a missile aimed at heaven, and before her keen eyes could perceive how, he was airborne. The golden dart zipped straight up into the dark, clouded night.
She gasped. Scoured the sky.
He’d completely disappeared.
“Fuuuuck,” she breathed.
Her limbs tingled with excitement. Finally, she thought.
And just as that flutter of joy danced in her chest, it was dashed to pieces.
“Now’s our chance,” Haniel yelled.
She scrambled for a grip on him, his elbow, his arm, his sleeve, anything. “Wait! We need him!”
“Maybe you need him,” Haniel hissed. “I need Maggie.”
He shook her off and ran like his knee was magically all better and his body unstoppable.
I’m going to eat his goddamn treacherous heart, she thought, and chased after him. But magic compressed her body and made her limbs feel as thick and tense as oak, like she was calcifying and atrophying at the same time.
She ached to release the spark—just a bit, just a teensy, harmless bit—but she couldn’t. She needed it for later, and the angel was already too close…
So she lurched across the ice toward the five-pointed fort. Her eyes raked the sky, expecting at any moment to see dragon plunging down, but the cloud cover obstructed her view. Staring straight up only slowed her down, so she forged ahead. Besides, if the humbaba flew as quickly as he’d taken to the sky, she’d never see him coming.
Her heart labored inside her chest, bashing against her spine with every strangled heartbeat.
This must be what a mouse feels like when it sees a hawk’s shadow…
Pressure built until her skin grew taut, tension so thick on the surface she might pop like a balloon. Her muscles strained, taut and ready to snap like twigs.
A ball of plastic and twine, metal and scrap, bags and rubber dropped from the sky, splat, and fell yards from her feet like a junkyard hairball. Shrapnel flew from it, plastic bottles pinging off nearby soldiers and bits of spark plugs and aluminum cans tumbling in the snow.
A long moment passed before she realized what it was: a glorified owl pellet. The earth spirit had hocked up a bundle of trash, mostly plastic. A broad, brown feather fluttered down. She should have known a Mesopotamian creature, a forest-spirit, would have feathered wings, not leathery ones. The wind danced, and a new sound caught her attention.
Wings flapped.
She dropped into a crouch.
Clouds parted, and she saw him:
Vast, barrel ribs, narrow waist, jutting hips, bulky upper torso where all the wing-flapping-muscle grew. She’d thought he’d be the color of an island taipan, all mint and jungle green, lush colors that would camouflage him in a forest, but he was bronze and copper and gold.
Wings snapped with a heavy, popping sound, like the sails being torn off a storm-buffeted ship. He beat his wings and sent another torrent of wind and rain at her.
Lilith gaped.
The humbaba had antlers. A glorious, forty-point rack of antlers that branched out from his head, at least twelve feet tip to tip. He was truly a creature of old forests, old worlds, primordial gardens, and her heart couldn’t settle. Enthralled, she huddled in a crouch and stared.
He dove down, grabbed the FEMA truck, and hurled it at her invading army. The truck rolled into the mass, squashing vampires and tossing others aside. Screams filled the night.
He roared, a lion/serpent hiss of sound ripped from nightmares. Her spine trembled, firing every nerve and neuron at once. Then the damned thing drew back, puffed up, and belched fire.
“Really?” she scoffed. “Because it just had to be a fucking fire-breathing monster, didn’t it? Couldn’t just be an ordinary serpent, noooo.”
Vampires turned and ran. The Corporal yelled at them, hounding them and taunting their honor, but the abuse didn’t help. By her estimation, about one in three fled.
The humbaba smirked, maw stretching wide over gleaming teeth.
Vamps continued to high-tail it over the hills, some even dove into the ocean to escape.
She turned to the Corporal, who stood idly by with a gun limp in his hand. “Planning to do anything? Or are you a coward, too?”
The Corporal snarled, but doubt filled his eyes.
When she had the idea to recruit Nhang’s disloyal militants, she’d hoped for a twofold benefit; she’d gain an army while culling traitors from Nhang’s ranks. Either way, she’d ensure the Corporal didn’t survive the night. No way in hell would she let her daughter be destroyed by the likes of him.
Lilith had known conscripting the disloyal creatures was a rough gamble with bad odds, but she’d hoped their greed would drive them to fight.
Apparently not.
“Gotta do everything my damn self,” she mumbled.
She yanked the gun out of the Corporal’s hand and flung it at the sky. The missile sailed in an arc and pinged off the humbaba’s shoulder. The dragon swerved, head swiveling until his gaze pinned her directly.
Because she was the fool who threw a tantrum and drew attention to herself.
The humbaba’s neck curled back, he tucked his chin, and his wings flicked straight out, sending him back into a cloud. Out of sight. Her heart leapt against her chest. He cleared the cloud teeth-first, spiraling straight toward her.
Her muscles bunched and she exploded into a run. The bag across her back felt like a metric ton. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the dragon barreling straight at her, closing the distance. The air around him rippled with the expansion of heat.
He’s going to fry me.
She pivoted toward the overturned truck and leaped over its carriage. Her foot had scarcely set down on the other side when a blast of fire struck the vehicle…
And the gasoline spilling from its tanks.
The explosion punted Lilith face-down in the snow and she slid at least twelve yards. On her face.
Which hurt like a son of a bitch, scraped off an eyelid, the tip of nose, and her cheek.
“I hate cars,” she grumbled, or would have if she wasn’t gagging on ice.
Pissed, pained, she struggled to her hands and knees. Over the roar of the fire and the crackling of metal, the sound of flapping wings reached her ears.
Damned beast was right behind her.
A smoldering tire sat beside her in the snow, rubber still melting from the blast. Lilith grabbed the inside of the rim in one hand, burning her fingers. She hissed at the searing agony and flung the tire like a discus. It soared high and struck the spot where the dragon’s wing met his torso. He shrieked, spiraled, and tumbled through the sky. He tried to right himself, but he was too close to the ground. There was no space. He careened onto his haunches and slammed through a cluster of vampires. Bodies flew. Blood spiced the air.
One of the dragon’s wings was twisted beneath his body, the other flailed. Snow cascaded. Steam billowed. He shrieked a raspy, frustrated sound. His hind foot clipped the burning truck, sending the metal fireball crashing in her direction.
Shit.
She jumped out of the way.
But the sling slipped off her shoulder and spilled open, right in the path of the tumbling truck.
Panic smacked her, and she threw herself on the bundle. She’d h
oped to skid with the package and escape the oncoming traffic, as it were, but her timing was off. She hugged the rucksack to her chest and tucked her head and curled in—
The truck slapped her upside the back as it barreled past.
No breath. No light. Crushed flat. Torment came for her in the darkness, radiating outward from her head and spine. Bruised skull. Broken vertebrae. At least three between her neck and shoulders…
And she was blind.
Panic burned anew, cold and fatal.
She couldn’t see!
She might as well be dead, dead as dragon shit, because if she was blind she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hunt, couldn’t live, she couldn’t read the words to the spell, and she wouldn’t see the angels coming. Hell, she wouldn’t see the next homicidal truck coming, either.
Might as well give up.
But her body didn’t give up. Vertebrae sealed, sutured itself together, fused and staggered into line. She lifted her head—and light barged in.
She’d been completely squashed into a snowbank, submerged. Her eyes were fine.
Laughter erupted from her, sounding manic and shrill.
Then she remembered: the mirrors!
She clutched the sack against her chest, heard the familiar rattle and clink of the objects inside, but couldn’t say if anything had been broken. Wouldn’t know until she opened it, and couldn’t exactly do that in the middle of a battlefield without risking further harm.
Something warm toasted the back of her neck.
Uh-oh.
She turned her head and the dragon was—
Right there.
Glaring down at her.
His piercing orange eyes had a circular falcon-like iris. His breath melted ice from her hair and burned her ravaged face. His skull was long like a moose’s, but his antlers were barbed and his teeth looked ursine.
He rose up, neck furling, tongue flickering.
Up close, she could see individually colored scales: bright white, yellow, orange, and red, a mural of springtime blossoms. He smelled of the ocean, cedar, and musk.
His wild aroma lapped at her senses. Despite Boston’s civilized buildings towering on the horizon and the smog of burning oil, she’d stumbled onto something primordial.
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