by Gayle, Linda
Dylan curled his lip. “I don’t think people are gonna be too afraid of a big chicken.”
“They would be of a dragon.”
Dragon? Even Liam seemed surprised at that, switching his stare to Arum, which gave Dylan the moment he needed to text Tash: Arum killing Cam Marley Street sewer under bridge
He prayed Tash was nearby. Their townhouse was less than two miles from here. If Tash knew where the Marley Street bridge was, maybe they had a chance. Assuming Tash would be on their side, of course. Shit, he hoped he wasn’t just making things worse. Maybe Tash was in on this whole thing.
He looked up again just in time to catch an exchange between Arum and Liam. “If he fights, shoot him. But not before I get the egg. Any thrashing might damage it, and we need his soul infusing it until the very last minute.”
Liam lifted the rifle. “Are you sure he’s ready?”
“Yes.” He pressed his hands over Cam’s plucked abdomen. “Just since he’s been in his true form, the shell has thickened.”
A strange, sad whiffling noise came from Cam, and his tail gave one flick against the floor. Dylan’s hands had gone cold from trembling. He could not let this happen. But how to get past Liam’s gun and buy them enough time for Tash to arrive?
If only Cam would fight. But it seemed like all the fight had gone out of him.
The tranquilizer rifle was only a couple of feet away. And there were four exits to choose from. He knew the one he wanted because it was opposite the lantern, but any one of them would do in a pinch.
He leaned over slowly to grab the rifle.
“Get the crate, Liam,” Arum said, which made Liam look over in Dylan’s direction.
He sat back up quickly. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Liam stared hostilely as he strode over and got the crate. “Don’t. Move,” he admonished with another stab of his finger.
“Where else would I go?” Dylan said with a caustic smile. “Fucktard,” he muttered, loud enough to make Liam glare back at him. He’d enjoy seeing that guy turned to stone, or whatever a cockatrice’s eyes would do to him.
As soon as Liam bent to set the crate down next to Arum, Dylan started to reach again—only to freeze at the sound of a growl. “Shit, not you too?”
Arum’s dog had recovered enough from his beating to limp over and snarl at him. “Hey, Arum, wanna call off your mutt?”
“Leave him,” Liam advised. “He can keep an eye on our guest.”
“Guest. Asshole,” Dylan grumbled. The dog’s head was wet with blood. Normally, he loved dogs and this would have enraged him, but in this case, he was willing to make an exception. To the dog, he muttered, “If you’re not with me, you’re against me.” He lunged for the rifle.
The dog barked. Liam shouted. Arum’s head came up. Only Cam didn’t move as Dylan swept up the rifle, which he had absolutely no idea how to use. Oh, except for this—he battered the dog’s head with the butt end as it lunged for him, and the shepherd ran away, yelping, and disappeared into one of the tunnels.
“Shoot him, Liam!” Arum commanded. The rifle boomed.
Dylan leapt forward just as chips of cement flew off behind him. Liam took aim at him again. Dylan dodged and bolted toward a tunnel. Swerved to make Liam miss, which he did, exploding another chunk of wall. “Cam!” he screamed.
But Cam was already up, shrieking like a prehistoric nightmare, clawing at the hood with his scaly foot. Arum raised the knife to plunge it into Cam’s throat.
“Cam, move!” Ignoring the leveling of Liam’s rifle, Dylan dashed toward Cam to shove him out of the way. Cam hopped to his right, collided with Dylan, who rolled over Cam’s back, blindly thudding to the floor. Landing at Liam’s feet, he looked up into the monk’s furious face. Liam turned the rifle around to bash Dylan’s skull in. A claw swiped out and scored the monk across the chest. Liam cried out, staggered, and fell.
Arum began chanting. Latin again. Whatever he said, Dylan didn’t know, but he sat up to see Cam shaking his hooded head, screeching as if the words burned him. “Obey!” Arum commanded in English. “You are a lowly servant! You have no will beyond the will of your master. Obey and submit, filthy creature. You are an abomination in the eyes of God. Repent and serve!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Dylan grabbed up the crate and heaved it at Arum’s head. It hit the monk and smashed open, knocking him backward. Soil exploded, and toads, of all things, rained over the ground. He had only a second to gape before Liam grabbed him from behind. Dylan gripped Liam’s arms, hip-checked him, and sent him sailing over his head. “Hey! It worked!”
He glanced up at Cam, who still yowled and clawed at the hood. Dylan ran over and grabbed his head. “It’s me, baby. I’ll get it off.” He got his fingers under one edge of the leather just as Cam pulled back, and the hood ripped off. Cam spun, knocking Dylan aside—just in time. Dylan remembered the deadly eyes and focused on Liam instead, who had taken a running step toward them.
Neck extended, foot-long iridescent feathers bristling and erect, Cam stretched his neck and hissed. It’d be a million years before Dylan forgot the strangled scream that tore from Liam’s throat. The monk keeled over, dead as a doornail.
“Liam!” Blind or not, Arum knew the score. “Cameron,” he said, his tone rife with desperation, “you know you’ll be hunted. I am your son’s last chance for survival. And your lover’s. I told you we would spare him!”
Cam shook his terrible mane of feathers and stomped toward the monk with measured steps, wicked claws curling, then splaying on the floor.
Arum held up his hands. “You will die, and your offspring and your mate with you. There’s still time. There’s still a chance.”
Not for Arum. With a swipe of his tail, Cam jabbed the barb in his tail deep into Arum’s chest. The monk grabbed it with both hands, his mouth gaping. Then Cam yanked it out, and the man fell down. Dead as dirt.
A warbling cry rippled from Cam’s throat, one of such sorrow and remorse that Dylan clapped his hands over his ears. Which was why he almost missed the entrance of Tash, jumping in from the sewer tunnel.
The big, leather-jacketed man stopped, took one horrified look around, pushed his dark glasses onto the top of his head, and said, “My God, Cameron. What have you done?”
Chapter Eighteen
“There was no other way.” Dylan held up his hands and backpedalled rapidly as Tash strode toward him, fists balled into white-knuckled weapons. At least the guy had the wherewithal to drop his dark glasses down again. Monster or no, Dylan had a feeling the anger in those eyes would burn him.
“Who are you?” Tash backed him into a wall, bunched his hands in the front of Dylan’s hoodie and slammed him up against the stone a couple of times.
Cam warbled and dipped his head. It was enough to get Tash’s attention. “Cameron, where’s your collar? What’s happened here?”
With a soft wheeze, the cockatrice collapsed to the ground, and Tash left Dylan to run to him. He dropped to his knees. One hand on Cam’s heaving side, Tash whipped his head toward Dylan again. “What have you done to him?”
“Me? I didn’t do nothing. It was them. They were trying to steal his egg.”
“Egg?” Tash ran his hands over Cam’s belly. “God in heaven, he’s gravid. How?”
“Errr…”
Tash stood. “What do you know of this? Tell me everything.”
Dylan stepped back, hit the wall. He was more afraid of Tash than he’d been of the two monks combined. “When I met him, he was a guy. You know?”
Approaching slowly, Tash nodded. “Yes, I know. What of it?”
“We…got to be friends.”
He saw the exact moment that understanding entered Tash’s mind. His face went slack, then thunderous. He rushed Dylan again, crashing him into the bricks. “You slept with him? He slept with you? You fooking idiots!”
He had the same Irishy accent, only it didn’t sound so pretty bellowed at him. Cam’s low growl saved the back of Dylan�
�s head from becoming pulp against the wall. Tash threw him aside. “It’s impossible!”
“It’s not. Right?” Dylan staggered back, rubbing his skull. “Arum told me about the knight and the last cockatrice. He said Cam was destined, and that the egg was something special. Him and Liam were gonna steal it and…I don’t know, he had some crazy plan to take over the church.”
“Impossible.” Tash shoved his fingers into his hair. He turned back to Cam, knelt, and again felt Cam’s belly. “How far along is he?”
Cam burbled, and Dylan said, “Can’t you understand him?”
“No, I can’t understand him, you moron. He has no language in this form.” He probed some more, his expression grim. “I’m not some fucking Dr. Doolittle.”
Dylan inched forward. Cam looked terrible. Like, terrible even for a monster. “You can help him, though. Right?”
“I don’t know.” He sat back and dragged his hand down his face, then addressed Dylan. “I’m going to kill you for this.”
Somehow, though, Dylan thought he meant it a little less than the brothers had. He came to kneel beside Cam’s head and pulled it into his lap. Cam eyes were closed, but whether that was to protect Dylan or because he lacked the strength to open them, he couldn’t tell. “He’s not gonna die, is he?”
“I don’t know,” Tash said again. “I don’t fucking know anything. This is beyond my ken. We need the brothers.”
“No! They tried to kill him.”
“There are other brothers.”
“Those are the ones Arum was trying to save the egg from. He said they were opposed. He made it sound like him and Liam were the only chance to save it.”
“And you killed them.” Tash swiped his hand through the air. “Was that your grand design?”
“He was gonna cut him open!” Dylan shouted. “Look!” He pointed to the briefcase full of butcher knives. “Murder him and steal the egg.” Tears choked him. Fuck, he hadn’t cried since that night he’d been thrown out by his parents. He slapped them away with the back of his hand. “I wasn’t gonna just let him die.”
Tash regarded him in silence a moment, seemed to take in his bruises and bloody face. “Even now? Even knowing what he is. You risked your own life to save him.”
“Yeah, of course I did.” He sniffed and focused on his fingers combing over Cam’s soft feathers. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was Cam’s dark hair beneath his touch.
Another moment passed. “What are you called?” Task asked quietly.
“Dylan.”
The other cockatrice held out his hand, and, slightly stunned, Dylan shook it. “I’m Tash. But you knew that. You probably know more than you should about everything.” His mouth tightened with disapproval. “Nevertheless, Cam needs an ally if he’s going to survive this. And so do I.”
“What are we going to do?”
Tash lifted his hands, then let his knuckles fold on his thighs. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well… What do you…sort of people normally do when you have to lay an egg?”
“We go to the basilica. It’s a building with a large underground chamber, where we can breed and lay in peace. The brothers guard us, take care of us. Clearly, that option is off the table.”
“Wait.” Dylan stilled his fingers. “I gotta ask, does this mean he’s a hen?”
“No, idiot, he’s a cock. As in cockatrice. We’re hermaphroditic in this form.”
“Huh. Gives a whole new meaning to chicks with dicks…” The inane giggle rising from his throat stopped with Tash’s scowl. “Sorry, I’m feeling slightly hysterical.”
Tash knuckled his lower lip. “If it’s true what Arum said and others are hunting him, then the basilica is out, at least until I can suss out if we have any friends among them. But we need to find a place where he can deliver the egg.”
“Why not here? It’s underground.”
He glanced around, noticed the broken crate and the toads, some of which had stuck around. “It might do. Who else knows you’re here?”
“No one. There were some weasels, but…” He waved in the direction of the gobs and gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts spattered near the entrance. “Cam took care of those.”
“Weasels?”
“They were working with them.” He nodded toward the monks’ bodies. “But I got the feeling it’s a whole movement. And they all want this egg.”
Tash looked utterly lost. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand. How could Brother Arum be part of this?”
“It’s some plan to make the church powerful again, Arum said. Look, I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now we gotta do something for Cam.”
“Well, this place won’t do, if what you’re saying is true. We can’t risk more weasels, not in his condition.” His eyebrows lowered. “You’re sure the weasels served the brothers?”
“They said they gave ’em some kind of a deal. The, uh, reformation.”
“Reformatore,” Tash corrected. “Worse and worse. We have enemies everywhere, then. I don’t know where to go.”
“We could take him back to my place. My neighbors… They really like him, and I think they have some idea of what he is. They called him…pretzel wattle or something.”
“Quetzalcoatl?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
With a heavy groan, Tash rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Would they help us, do you think?”
Kindly Manuela and fierce Jose? “Maybe? Least case, I don’t think they’ll mind. Much.”
“That’ll have to do, then. We’ll need more dirt. And more toads.”
“Okay, what’s up with the toads?”
“No more questions, boy.” He got to his feet. “God willing, we can build a nest, and Cam can lay. But after that, we’ll have some hard decisions to make.”
Cam whiffled, and Dylan stroked his head. “He’s so weak. What’s the matter with him? I mean, they hit him with a tranquilizer dart, but it seemed like it wore off already.”
“You tell me. You’re his lover.” The words were growled, but as Tash found Cam’s gold collar and picked it up, his expression softened. “I don’t know what we’ll do about this. Only a brother can put it on and give him back his human guise.”
“You mean he might be stuck like this forever?”
“If we can’t find a brother to help us.”
His mind raced ahead. It meant sex was out, definitely, but worse than that, where would Cam live? He couldn’t walk around like this in public. Where in the world could a monster hide? And that was just it—for the rest of his life, he’d be hiding, on the run.
Bending, he stretched awkwardly out along Cam’s neck, embracing him as best he could. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I did this to you. I should have taken better care of you. Don’t you worry about nothing, though. I got you.” A hot, wet tear rolled onto Cam’s feathers, and Dylan pressed his face into the dusky mass. He stilled smelled good, like lemons, which just about broke Dylan’s heart.
A grumbled sigh made him look up. Cam stood, hands on hips, radiating disbelief. “I’m not believing what I’m seeing with my own two eyes. Tell me truly. Do you love him?”
Dylan sat up, frowning. “I’m guessing that’s some sort of god-awful sin too, right?”
“Surely it is. But there’s nothing we can do about that now. Come, help me gather these toads. Then we’ll have to wait until dark to move him.”
Shadows and shapes moved in the periphery of Cam’s vision. He heard Tash’s voice, and Dylan’s, quietly echoing in the chamber. They’d covered him with their jackets for warmth. His head lay pillowed on Dylan’s thighs. Dylan hadn’t left him, even though Cam had lain for what seemed like hours, drifting in and out of consciousness. Every so often, a pain in his belly would drag him to the surface, and Dylan or Tash would murmur something soothing. And then he’d drift away again, feeling an intense need to rest, to prepare for bringing their egg into the world.
At times, he unde
rstood what they were saying. Tash was teaching Dylan about their history. The legends. Stories of their own adventures around the world. He heard Dylan laugh at times—Tash was a gifted storyteller—and if he’d had a mouth rather than a beak, Cam would have smiled. His mentor and his lover, getting along. Surely it was a dream.
When they finally roused him, though, the dream ended, and his body cramped with pain. He squawked as they rolled him to his feet.
“Where you hurting, baby?” Dylan asked, stroking his neck. Cam kept his eyes tightly closed.
“We better hood him,” Tash said. “We don’t want any more accidental deaths.”
“Liam was no accident,” Dylan said, but he fitted the hood over Cam’s head. That was good. Now that worry lifted from his shoulders, such as they were, and Cam got his legs under him and stood.
“There you go,” Tash said, gripping Cam’s wing to steady him. “We’re taking you to Dylan’s apartment. You can nest there, we’re hoping. Then we’ll have to figure something out.”
Cam rumbled his disapproval. Back to Dylan’s apartment? Through the city streets?
“It’s okay, I know some back alleys we can take,” Dylan said, his hand never leaving Cam’s neck. “And I’m hoping Manuela and Jose will help us. They can keep watch while you, uh, do your thing.”
Any attempt to express an opposing view fell on deaf ears. Dylan and Tash guided him out of the sewers. He scrabbled his way up and out, under the bridge, Tash pulling on his wings while Dylan pushed from underneath. He felt like such a clod. At this point, though, at least he realized his pain and exhaustion came more from fighting the weasels and less from the egg inside him. No, his body was made for that particular task, though his abdomen felt unnaturally full.
A primal urge drove him to nest, and the thought of Dylan’s apartment, which he’d been cleaning diligently the past few days, sent a torrent of longing through him. Abruptly, he realized he’d been nesting there all week. He would have trotted blindly into the street and let his instincts guide him toward the place if Tash hadn’t grabbed his wing.