Dragon Spawn

by Eileen Wilks

  Lily called a warning and sprinted to her left to get an angle she could shoot from.

  The lights went out. Mage lights and fire-ward both. Cynna called out a string of syllables Lily had heard before. Someone else cried out, but that word wasn’t familiar.

  Lily tripped over a demon body and went down. She rolled, coming up in a crouch, her assault rifle still clutched in her arms, straining to hear anything approaching . . . not your ears, dummy, she told herself, and unfurled her mindsense, sending it out as a mist.

  Benedict wanted to keep her ability a secret, but the element of surprise wouldn’t do them much good if she was dead. As long as she kept it away from the center of the room . . .

  No minds close, but two over there, faint but slick, obviously demons . . . and there and there and oh shit. A lot of the demons who looked dead weren’t. Some of the minds she found were dim, almost extinguished. A few flickered and might yet go out. But they weren’t dead yet. She sent her mist along the wall to her left—or where she thought the wall was—and stopped, staring. What was that?

  A faint iridescence stretched from floor to what was probably ceiling. It was barely discernible, more like the wan memory of light than an actual glow. Phosphorescence, like in the pit demon’s lair? No, there was a hint of movement, like gossamer veils shifting in the breeze. The magical construct? Could that be it? It’s dragon-induced instability might have made it visible to ordinary vision. But it wasn’t much more than a foot wide. Reno couldn’t have flown through—

  “Freeze.” The voice was loud and incongruously bored. “Everyone. Or I slit his throat.”

  Three mage lights popped into being above the spot that had been circled by fire, illuminating three people, a black pillar, and a demon: Tom Weng, Ginger Harris, a looming Claw . . . and Toby.

  Weng was looking extremely Chinese, if a touch anachronistic. He wore a scarlet silk shenyi, the long wraparound robe with enormous sleeves favored by the nobility of various Han dynasties, heavily embroidered and trimmed in black. Ginger Harris, too, wore a shenyi. Hers was spotlessly white, practically glowing in its purity. She sat on the floor, her eyes open and unseeing. The Claw was naked. He stood at Weng’s back, towering over him. Toby wore the same blue pajamas he’d gone to bed in two nights ago. They were still too short and much dirtier than they had been.

  The knife Weng held to Toby’s throat looked quite modern.

  “I’d rather not kill him,” Weng went on. He had an armlock on Toby. Weng was not a tall man and Toby had been growing a lot lately. The top of Toby’s head was right at Weng’s chin. “I went to a great deal of trouble to acquire him. But I will if necessary. Put down your weapons.”

  Rule stood frozen twenty feet from Weng and Toby. How had he managed to get that far in pitch blackness without making a sound? Behind him, Mason, Max, and the two red-eyes all stood motionless. Jude had almost reached Cynna, but he’d stopped as ordered. The Claw who’d been about to attack her was nowhere in sight—downed, maybe by the spell Lily had heard Cynna calling out. The Claw at Benedict’s feet wasn’t moving, either, but that was probably because its head was half-severed from its neck. Grandmother, the closest to Weng, crouched low, motionless but for the tip of her tail. It twitched.

  “Weapons,” Weng repeated, and did something with Toby’s arm. Toby yelped.

  Slowly Lily set her M4 on the floor. She scanned the rest of the room quickly. Still no sign of Cullen . . . or, she realized, of Daniel. Or Carlos. An icy stab of fear made her stiffen. Killed?

  “What are you?” Weng said, looking at Grandmother. “I suppose you can’t answer. Not a tiger, however. Or not merely a tiger. I require all of you lupi and humans to sit down. The tiger creature should lie down on its side. Do I need to specify what I will do to the boy if—ah, I see that I don’t,” he said as, one by one, they complied. “Lily Yu.” He turned his head to smile at her. “How interesting to meet you here.”

  Toby stood so still, staring straight ahead, eyes wide with fear. Lily fought to keep emotion out of her voice. “But not surprising, surely.”

  “Oh, but I didn’t think you’d come. None of the children is yours, after all, and you do not have happy memories of this realm. My associate was convinced you would, however. She’s quite pleased about it.”

  “Do you mean Ginger Harris?” Who looked as motionless and unaware as a statue. Lily couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

  “More or less. By the way, what did you do to destabilize the nodes? She will not be in a good mood when she finishes tidying up the mess you made.”

  He didn’t know about Reno. “I didn’t do it.”

  “Who did?”

  Cynna broke in. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “Are you Cynna?” Weng asked. “Silly me. Of course you are. She’s with the other children, Cynna. Were you aware there are cells next to this audience hall? I believe the previous ruler liked having them nearby so she could amuse herself with her prisoners from time to time.”

  Lily frowned. He hadn’t said Ryder was in those cells. He’d implied it, but he hadn’t said so. “Why are your demons standing around so peacefully? Those of them who survived, that is.”

  “Because I told them to. Whose idea was that little bomb? Yours, Cynna?” He turned a nasty version of the smile on her. “You dabble in demonology, I believe. It has inconvenienced me considerably, that bomb.”

  “You’re just trying to cheer me up,” Cynna said.

  Would a dragon spawn avoid speaking an outright lie? The sidhe did, Lily knew. They’d twist themselves in knots to avoid lying. It had something to do with the way their magic worked. Did dragons—or their offspring—have to avoid lies as well, or was she reading way too much into his phrasing?

  “What’s wrong with my son?” Rule demanded.

  “I’m keeping the boy quiet so he doesn’t startle me. None of you want to startle me, do you? Stay very calm and quiet while I have a little chat with Lily.” He turned that smile on her again. “Stand up, Lily.”

  She did, feeling the worst sort of conspicuous.

  “Come to me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I’ll release the boy once I have you.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  He just smiled and did something again with the hand she couldn’t see. Toby yelped in pain, just like before.

  Exactly like before, in fact. And he still didn’t look at her. He hadn’t once looked at his father. That wasn’t right. Lily took a deep breath and a slow step forward and disregarded orders again. She nudged her mind-mist toward Weng, keeping it away from the motionless Ginger.

  “What is that tiger creature?” he asked. “Keep moving, Lily, and answer me truthfully. If I don’t believe you, I might decide to cut off some small portion of the boy.”

  Lily took another step and offered him the smallest truth she thought he’d accept. He had the Sight, so he’d see Grandmother’s magic. “A shape changer.”

  “Oh?” He studied Grandmother a moment. “I believe you spoke the truth. How interesting. Shape changers are rare. Now tell me who destabilized the nodes and how he or she did it.”

  “Cullen Seabourne. I think your demons killed him.”

  “And how did he do it?”

  “I don’t know.” Weng wasn’t there. Not to her mindsense. And Toby . . . what the hell? Her slow advance paused. Quickly she formed the smallest, thinnest probe she could manage. She had to know . . . “You’ll let Toby go in exchange for me?”

  “I have said the boy will be freed once you are in my hands. Keep moving.”

  “Just one problem.”

  “Oh?”

  “That isn’t Toby.” She drew her Glock and fired, double-tapping the huge Claw.

  Toby melted, splashing at Wang’s feet.

  Doppelgänger. Just as she’d thought.
Quickly Lily aimed at Weng’s head and fired again.

  The bullets fucking bounced. She knew that because one ricochet zipped right past her, sounding like an angry wasp. The flame-ward had shot up again.

  She spun and sprinted for her weapon. Dammit, she’d been almost sure the fake Toby was a doppelgänger. Not sure enough to risk trying for Weng first, though, not with the fake Toby’s head so close to his—but she should have. Should’ve trusted what her mindsense told her instead of her eyes. There’d been a blank spot where Toby stood, plus a thin cable of mind-stuff connecting the simulacrum to the tall Claw, who must have been operating it.

  Behind her, a tiger roared.

  So did Rule.

  Weng’s voice boomed out, amplified somehow: “Take Lily Yu alive. Also the tiger. Kill the rest.”

  The tiger? What the hell?

  Lily skidded to a stop, swiped her M4 off the floor, and tried to pay attention to what her mind-mist told her, but noticing it took effort when her other senses were flooded with urgent information. Like Cynna chanting loudly and Rule’s shouted command to get to Lily! and the goddamn tail that shot out of nowhere, aimed at her gut.

  She dropped, rolled, and fired while lying on her back at the big Claw that was almost upon her. She hit it, too, in the head, even though she hadn’t gotten the M4 seated against her shoulder, so it bucked like an angry bull, the muzzle climbing so badly that the last of her round killed the ceiling.

  But the Claw’s mind flickered and went out. One down. “They’re not all dead!” she shouted, ejecting the spent clip and grabbing a new one. Shit, not that many left. She switched from full-auto to burst to conserve ammo. “A bunch of the ones who look dead aren’t!” She shoved to her feet, looking with both eyes and with mindsense, and realized she’d been late with that announcement. A goddamn swarm of demons erupted from the short part of the L-shaped room. Others were rising from where they’d lain.

  Like the three red-eyes headed her way.

  The tiger leaped on one. Benedict took on another, his machete flashing.

  Lily started to aim at the third, but it was between her and the fire. Her bullets would bounce off and the ricochets might hit Grandmother or Benedict. It took two precious seconds to shift to her right and fire.

  Hit him, too, but in the chest, which was not enough to discourage him. He kept coming, and those red-eyes were fast. She tried to leap aside, but too late. The red-eye piled into her. She landed hard, with the demon on top and—

  Grandmother landed on the red-eye’s back. A few hundred pounds of tiger and demon pressed the air out of Lily’s lungs. That lasted long enough for black to flicker at the edges of her vision, long enough to scare the shit out of her. Then the weight was gone and she was dragging air into her lungs. Shakily she sat, then pushed to her feet.

  Grandmother was more red than orange. Red and wet. These demons bled crimson, unlike the pit demon. The demon beside her lacked a head. Lily wasn’t sure where it was. “Thanks.” Her voice was hoarse and almost as shaky as she felt.

  “Lily!” Rule yelled, his voice urgent.

  “I’m good!” But he wasn’t—or wouldn’t be for long. The demon swarm—a bunch of red-eyes and at least three Claws—was pushing him, Mason, and Max back. A burst of gunfire announced that at least they weren’t out of ammo—but only one burst suggested they might be low. And Cynna and Jude needed help. They had three demons attacking—two red-eyes and a Claw. Cynna tossed something invisible at one of them and—oh, good, Benedict finished with his demon and took off to help Cynna and Jude.

  Grandmother nudged Lily with her head. Lily didn’t need to use her mindsense to know what that meant. Go.

  She did, veering to the right—and tripping when a tail shot out and gripped her ankle.

  One of those damn not-so-dead Claws lay on its side, propped up on one elbow. It hadn’t recovered enough to get to its feet, but its tail seemed lively enough. Lily took careful aim—at the head this time, no point in shooting anywhere else. One quick burst got rid of the problem.

  Grandmother growled. And shoved at Lily. She got to her feet, but her ankle twinged. Dammit, if she’d wrenched it—

  The right-hand wall was about ten feet away. A big chunk of it shimmered. And vanished.

  The terror-stricken screams that erupted in the audience hall came from the goddamn demons.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE creature revealed by the vanished section of wall was pink, deep rose pink shading into soft baby pink. And huge. It—no, she—was roughly the size of an African elephant, though shaped very differently. Like the red-eyes, she had an upright torso melded to a legged section, but she looked like someone had blended slug with centaur instead of hyena. Her legged section was low to the ground and carried her on myriad legs like a centipede’s. Blue eyes circled her round head like a headband, and her mouth went halfway around her head. She had six breasts, four arms distributed with a disturbing lack of symmetry, and a tail like a scorpion’s curling up over her back.

  Something that large shouldn’t be able to move as fast as she did. One second she was inside a dimly lit room little bigger than her body. The next she’d zipped out and grabbed the closest demon. A red-eye. She lifted it off the floor and bit off one of its legs.

  Lily realized she was backing up. Limping, but her ankle was holding her, so she kept doing it.

  Weng’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere. “Xitil was such a bad girl. Hosts should not eat their guests and allies. She’s been punished for that, of course, but she’s quite mad. I’m afraid she hasn’t learned as much as we might wish from her punishment, which has left her hungry. Very hungry.”

  Xitil, demon prince—former? current?—was not entirely naked. She wore a harness of some sort, with dull red jewels affixed in places. She took another bite of her red-eye. An arm this time. Blood spurted. She licked her lipless mouth with relish. Her tongue was long and red. The red-eye’s three remaining legs kicked, but feebly. It had stopped screaming.

  Cynna started chanting.

  “Xitil,” Weng said, adding something in a guttural language.

  The pink monster turned to face Lily. And smiled. And pulled off another leg, but she tossed this one on the floor and bit into the red-eye’s gut. Disgusting goo oozed up around her mouth.

  “Surrender, Lily,” Weng said with great cheer, “and I may be able to stop her from killing everyone. She has some respect for the device she wears.”

  “I thought you wanted me alive,” Lily said as she continued to retreat. Grandmother kept pace beside her.

  “Oh, Xitil won’t kill you. She may not have learned all her lessons, but she knows my colleague wants you alive, and she will not disobey too badly.”

  “Your colleague is busy,” Lily noted. “And you can’t control Xitil directly the way she can.”

  “Precisely.” He didn’t sound at all put out by her observation. “She might play with you a bit. She’d turn you over to me eventually, but she knows so many unpleasant things to do to a human which fall short of fatal. If I were you, I’d ask nicely to be allowed behind this ward.”

  All around the room, demons were retreating, just like Lily. Taking careful steps away from the monster that haunted their dreams the way they haunted those of humans.

  Cynna stopped chanting. Lily’s gaze flicked that way just in time to see her throw something at the demon prince—a charm. Small, silvery, it sailed straight at three or four tons of pink flesh.

  It hit. Every inch of pink flesh quivered. Muscles jerked. All of the blue eyes rolled back in their sockets. The dull red gems on her harness flashed bright crimson, and there was a sound almost like firecrackers going off.

  The harness fell away.

  “What have you done?” Weng screamed. “You fool, you’ve freed her!” He switched to yelling in the guttural language.

  Xitil paid n
o attention. She smiled slowly and turned to face Cynna. And shot off on all those short, absurdly fast legs.

  Lily launched into a run, too, still limping and without much idea of what she could do. Distract the pink monstrosity somehow. Grandmother shot past her. Lily saw others running, too—Benedict, who was closer, and Rule, and that had to be Max, and for a second she thought she glimpsed something small and orange darting between pillars. Couldn’t be—

  But none of them were as quick as Xitil. She reached the pile of bodies and reared up, half her centipede legs lifting off the floor to lift her head to the room’s high ceiling, high above the blond woman with skin covered in inky traceries.

  Behind Cynna, another figure rose. This one was covered in gore and wobbled as if uncertain of his footing in the carrion heap. He tilted his head back, looking up at the monster towering over him and his lady, and flung out one hand. “Burn, bitch.”

  Black fire streamed from his fingers. Mage fire, hugely dangerous to call, capable of burning anything. Lily had seen it consume an ancient artifact that had been crafted by an Old One. It struck the pink flesh . . . and splashed off.

  Xitil laughed. High and bright, like a girl presented with a new puppy.

  “Well, shit,” Cullen said, his body wavering in the nonexistent breeze. And fainted.

  The fire he’d called did not all wink out with him. Little black flames licked along the floor where it had splashed off Xitil. Even rock burned for mage fire.

  Xitil lowered herself, reaching for Cynna with one long arm ending in a taloned hand. Cynna dived beneath that hand just as Benedict reached the other end of the demon. Lily couldn’t see what he did—Xitil’s body blocked her—but she saw that scorpion tail uncurl and strike with devastating speed even as Rule raced toward the place where his brother had been. She set her weapon to her shoulder, centered the sites on that large, round head, and squeezed the trigger—and the earth rumbled and moved, knocking her to her knees. She tried to get up, but the shaking continued, so she gave up and got ready to shoot from her knees.