The Monster MASH

by Angie Fox

  The colonel frowned. “You broke the deal.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “He broke the deal,” I protested, voice cracking. “He paid the price.” I couldn’t help Thaïs as he lay bleeding on the ground. Maybe I could still convince Spiros to let me save those soldiers.

  The old colonel stared me down with that same imperceptible expression Kosta got, as if he didn’t know whether to take me seriously or throw me out.

  I straightened, calmed, still very aware of the knife point against my ribs. “Don’t make these soldiers suffer because of a crazy man.”

  The injured lay in pain on the ground behind him, like spoils to the victor. Blood soaked through their bandages.

  The Shrouds clustered barely an arm’s reach away, shifting in agitation, impatient. The soldier nearest to the creatures eased back a step, as if that would help.

  It was the creepiest thing I’d ever watched—these hellish creatures, preparing to dine.

  “Light the torches,” the colonel ordered.

  His soldiers laid out a semicircle of fire around our little party. It felt like a sacrificial altar.

  Spiros stood with his back to the impending carnage, clearly in control. I wondered how he’d harnessed the damned. Never mind. I didn’t care. I only wanted to get out of there.

  The torches crackled in the dry desert air.

  There’d been too much suffering, too much death already. I couldn’t stop most of it. I couldn’t stop Thaïs, but I had to convince this commander that I was on his side.

  I shook my head, willing him to understand, to find some of the mercy he’d shown by the sheer fact that he’d allowed this meeting in the first place. “I’m not a demigod,” I said. “I’m not a warrior. I’m a doctor. Let me save these people.”

  The shadows of the setting sun played over his sharp features. Whether it was the darkness or the centuries of command, Spiros was unreadable.

  My head swam with the injustice of it. He wanted it. I knew he did, or he wouldn’t be standing there. “Haven’t you seen enough useless suffering and death?”

  He tilted his head up. “I have.” He eyed me. “You’ve put me in a difficult position. We can’t fly under the radar on this.”

  Because Thaïs had spilled blood.

  I glanced back at my colleague, relieved to see he was at least moving. He kicked his legs and let out a groan as he dug his hand inside his uniform shirt.

  He couldn’t treat himself. This was a disaster.

  And then I felt a heaviness in my pocket.

  No.

  The familiar outline of the knife pressed into my skin.

  Oh, hell no.

  My body thrummed, every nerve on high alert. I didn’t want this. I didn’t need this.

  But there was no question about it. The knife was back. I refused to touch it, fought the urge to look down at the lump in my pocket.

  Pretend it’s not happening.

  I had to get through this.

  Blowing out a breath, I focused my full attention on Spiros. “I know it’s bad.” I was used to that. Bad never meant impossible. We could work it out. Tell a story. Get these soldiers—and my knife—the hell out of there. “As far as I’m concerned, my colleague tripped.”

  I could feel the soldier behind me chuckle, the blade of his knife rubbing against my skin. I winced. At least I’d succeeded in surprising Spiros.

  “Get that knife away from her,” Spiros ordered, waving his hand. He frowned. “I admire your wish to set things right, Doctor. Damn shame it can’t be solved that easily.”

  “She’s armed!” a soldier shouted.

  No-no-no!

  Spiros snarled as they dragged the knife out of my pocket and handed it to him. “What is this?”

  He had to understand. “I didn’t plan this, I swear.” My mind raced for some way, any way, to get him to believe me.

  He inspected the dagger. “This is the Knife of Atropos,” he said, awe coloring his words.

  “Who?” You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Wait. Atropos is one of the fates.”

  “This is a powerful artifact,” he said, suspicious again, his fingers tracing over the blade. “Where did you get it?”

  Before I could say anything else, a shout went up from the guard. “He’s got a bomb!”

  I twisted to see Thaïs as another cry went up from the soldiers. “He’s rigged!”

  The guard surged forward. The warrior behind me released his grip, and I dropped forward onto the ground. Boots caught my shoulder with a searing crush. I covered my head with my arms and wrapped myself in a tight ball as the battle ignited above me. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

  I tasted stale dirt and my own fear.

  “Man down!”

  Spiros fell next to me, blood soaking his gut.

  “No!” There came a shocked cry from above. I stared up at the soldier who had held me. He clutched a bloody knife and stared in horror at his colonel.

  Blood spread over the colonel’s tan uniform shirt as I scrambled to his side.

  “Is it poisoned?” I screamed above the chaos. The guard didn’t seem to hear. I grabbed him around the leg and shook. “Your knife,” I demanded.

  The burly soldier surfaced from his daze. “No. Not mine. Shit!” He leveled the weapon at me.

  A sliver was missing from the tip. We both saw it at the same time, and from the sheer revulsion on his face, I knew what had happened.

  Spiros choked up blood. “Stay with me,” I ordered, turning back to my patient.

  I ripped open his shirt. I’d done this for Galen. I could do it for him. “Get me a knife that’s not going to break apart,” I ordered the soldier behind me. “And for the gods’ sake, get me some light.”

  The colonel’s stomach was bathed in shadow. It was almost full dark. The knife had pierced below the sternum, right under the costal cartilage. Okay. Good. I used my sleeve to wipe away some of the blood. I needed more light. I needed to see where the shard went. Please let there be just one.

  It would break apart soon enough.

  Sweat slicked my palms. No. I’d get it out.

  “There.” I saw it. Right below the skin, traveling toward the heart. “Damn it. I need that knife!”

  The guard handed me a small military dagger with a three-angled blade. Perfect. Torches blazed down. Good. “Now get out of my light.”

  I traced the bulge of metal with the tip of my knife, following its deadly path under his skin until I got ahead of it. I sliced, pulse pounding as blood pooled in the wound, blocking my view. I didn’t have a nurse. I didn’t have suction. But I could do this.

  I spread my fingers, adding pressure on either side, coaxing the tip out.

  My breath hitched and I fought a flood of panic. “Where is it?” I didn’t see it.

  Spiros bucked. “Hold him down.”

  Shit.

  “Wait.” I saw it. Two inches above my incision, still heading for the heart. I adjusted my angle, my shadow falling long over the colonel’s heaving chest. I could do it. I only needed to get a better look. One more second.

  And then it split.

  My throat closed.

  It split again.

  One shard disappeared into his body. Then another. Cold fear swamped me. I’d never be able to get all of them. At that moment, I realized Spiros had been watching me. A soldier braced his head. Another held his arms. His small eyes glittered with pain.

  I held his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I said. For what, I wasn’t sure. For coming here, for being blind enough not to suspect Thaïs, for failing to save his life.

  The old colonel knew he was dying. And unlike the movies, where it’s a peaceful, reverent moment, this one sucked. Spiros lurched forward, coughing blood.

  My jaw gritted as I showed the soldier how to hold his commander’s head at a more comfortable angle, and used my coat to wipe the blood from Spiros’s mouth. There was nothing else I could do.

  The light inte
nsified above us, and I looked up to see a ring of soldiers, weapons drawn and expressions tight.

  The sun had set all the way. Darkness pressed in behind them.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I had no doubt Spiros was an honorable commander. Death was never fair.

  Even an immortal like Spiros could lose everything in this war.

  He’d stopped choking, his face red. I used my clean sleeve to wipe some of the sweat from his cheeks and forehead. I moved aside a bronzed basilisk tooth he wore on a leather chain. It was glacial to the touch despite the heat coming off his body.

  I wiped his neck and shoulders. I had no doubt he was only trying to protect his people, like I was.

  The soldiers stiffened as they realized their colonel was indeed dying. I saw grief and fear.

  “He controls the Shrouds,” one of them said.

  Hold up. “What?” My mind raced to process the ramifications of that as I stared down at my patient. His eyes flew open as another coughing fit seized him. “What are you talking about?”

  I knew they had to control the Shrouds somehow, but they couldn’t leave it up to one man. Even if he was supposed to be immortal.

  The soldiers began pulling away. I took full hold of my patient as they eased his arms and head down onto the dirt. I turned him onto his side as he spewed blood onto the ground.

  “He won’t lose his soul,” said the guard who’d held the knife on me. “He’ll die. His soul will be saved.”

  “But when he dies—” another began.

  Understanding crept over me. Oh hell.

  “Pull out!” The soldiers made a coordinated dash for their vehicles.

  “You got that bomb?” one called to another. “Get rid of it.”

  “Wait,” I hollered, my hand still circling the colonel’s back, trying to give him some dignity, some comfort as he drowned in his own blood. There had to be another way. Kosta would have had a backup plan. Spiros had to have one, too.

  The soldiers thundered past me, in full withdrawal, some firing up the trucks as others continued to climb in the back.

  The ground shook as a bomb detonated somewhere off in the open desert.

  “Go, go, go!” a sergeant hollered as he ran past.

  “At least take the patients!” I hollered. The humans might die. The immortals would suffer. But these people deserved to keep their souls.

  The torches danced. The Shrouds stirred, restless and hungry. Waiting.

  “Oh boy.” I rubbed Spiros’s back, mind racing, trying to think of something—anything—I could do.

  I could run. Leave. Let Spiros die with his face in the dirt. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t honorable, but in the all-out battle against terror, it was hard not to think that way.

  Damn Thaïs and the old army.

  If Thaïs was even alive anymore.

  Spiros doubled over, grabbing my coat as he pitched forward. He clutched at the bronze tooth at his neck, ripping the cord. He fisted it, shoving it against my coat, holding it there as he died.

  Holy hell.

  I watched the colonel’s spirit rise out of his body. He looked to his troops in full retreat as they sped down the road. Then he turned slowly back to me. He nodded before he faded away.

  The tooth in his fist flashed like lightning, blinding me. Electricity sizzled in the air, and I realized the spell had broken.

  The soldiers were gone. It was me and the injured. And the Shrouds.

  Blinking against orange spots, I desperately peeled the dead man’s fingers from the necklace.

  The Shrouds closed in.

  “Back!” I yelled, holding up the tooth, praying it would be enough.

  They recoiled as a unit. I wanted to collapse in relief.

  But they could still go for the soldiers. The flames crackled from the few remaining torches as I eased away from the commander.

  I said a quick, silent prayer of thanks that I’d made it this far. The necklace had to be some kind of talisman. It burned cold against my skin. No doubt this thing was meant for a god, or a demigod at least.

  I saw my bronze dagger on the ground and took that, too.

  The Shrouds let out a low, rustling hiss as I dashed toward the soldiers. I tripped as I reached them, knees in the dirt, hand closed tight around our only protection.

  It was making me dizzy, weak. I could feel it draining me.

  The Shrouds knew, too. They hovered, waiting. The big one on the end rocked back and forth as if it were itching to pounce. I could feel its hunger.

  I climbed back to my feet, doing my best to stand strong in front of the soldiers, afraid to look back. The talisman grew more and more frigid, searing me with ice. I held it tight, fighting it as it drew the very life out of me.

  My knees gave way once more, and I knelt in the dirt. The night had gone black, the winds chilling.

  It was hard to breathe, impossible to think.

  I felt the heat and the energy seep from my body. This must be how my patients felt as they died.

  Squeezing my fingers, I concentrated, focused, tried to hold on to the talisman. I knew I was dead the moment I let go. That wasn’t what stopped me. It was what would happen to everyone else.

  The Shroud on the end inched forward.

  I couldn’t hold on much longer. I was too weak. Too cold.

  My fingers loosened and I felt the talisman slip.

  The Shrouds rushed forward, and I held them back with the knife.

  “Petra!” Galen’s voice echoed across the desert.

  How did he get here? I wanted to tell him to run, get away. The Shrouds whipped their bodies in a frenzy of need, waiting to be unleashed.

  My body felt dry, used up, like it could blow away in the wind.

  My fingers were numb. I couldn’t feel the talisman. It was gone.

  A flash erupted below me. The spell broke. I wanted to cry for it, but no sound came out.

  The Shrouds shrieked and charged.

  I stabbed at the rotting, filthy soul eaters with my dagger, crying in dry heaves. Their moans scratched like sandpaper as putrid dust rained down.

  The ground shook as Marius landed to the left of me.

  “I got her,” he said, swooping me up under my arms. My body went light and I realized we were flying.

  My face pressed against his shoulder. My head swam.

  “The Shrouds,” I tried to explain, voice tight.

  “Are a problem. I know.” We hit the ground with a thud, and I heard Marius ripping open the back door of an ambulance. “You drove them back with that knife, but nothing kills them.”

  “I—” My thoughts jumbled.

  “Sit,” he said, planting me on the back rise. “I’m going to get the wounded.”

  I’d driven back the Shrouds.

  My hands shook, my body felt like rubber. I’d lost the knife. Hopefully back where Galen could find it. Marius hadn’t taken me far, I realized, my fingers clenching against metal. This was our ambulance.

  I coughed, trying to get my bearings. I was facing the black of the desert. I could see the halo of light from the battleground behind me.

  The second oracle had come true—I’d arrested the forces of the damned.

  I blinked and Marius was back, sliding a stretcher into the ambulance next to me. Then another, moving at superspeed. “Tell Galen to wear the talisman around his neck,” I managed to remind him, through the haze.

  “He’s holding his own,” he said, buckling a man into place. “For now at least.” A lock of blond hair fell over his eye as he double-checked the other patient. Then he was gone.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to rant and rave and find the talisman and do something that would actually make a difference. I slid off the back of the ambulance, struggling to focus.

  Gripping the metal side, I fought to stand as I watched Galen holding back the Shrouds. They writhed and twisted like snakes as they stalked him. Sword at the ready, talisman up, he backed across the desert, leading them away.


  Sweet Jesus, he’d better not die out there trying to save us.

  I fell straight forward.

  My cheek and shoulder slammed into the dirt, along with the rest of me. But those were the parts that hurt the most.

  No telling how long I lay there until Marius’s boots crunched in the dirt next to me. “Damn it, Petra.”

  He shoved me into the back like a sack of potatoes.

  “Go, go, go!” Marius hollered as he slammed the door closed.

  The ambulance lurched forward, throwing me across the floor.

  “Wait,” I creaked, my voice refusing to work. Had Galen made it back?

  Marius was already working on patients as I tried to pick myself up.

  The rocks in my head made it hard, as did the thrashing of the ambulance as it bounced over the desert. The metallic tang in the air made me sick to my stomach.

  “Is she okay?” Galen barked from the driver’s seat.

  I closed my eyes. Thank goodness.

  “Yes. Drive,” Marius answered.

  My eyes refused to open, and I gave in, letting Marius take charge. He was a good doctor, one of the best. It was what had doomed him to eternity with Commander Kosta, but at the moment, I was sure grateful for it.

  “Sorry I don’t have a spot for you, roomie,” Marius said, laying me out on the floor and bundling something soft under my head.

  I wanted to tell him that was okay, but I blacked out instead, dreaming of phantoms chasing us across the desert.

  Even in my dreams, though, I knew it was only a fantasy. It had to be. Otherwise we’d be dead already.

  There was no telling how much time had passed before I was awoken by a bright light and the overwhelming stench of Drakkar.

  “Physically, you check out.”

  I opened my eyes to see Marius hovering above me. The motion of the ambulance jostled him from side to side.

  “Thanks,” I said weakly, grateful to be able to say anything. “What about our patients?”

  His mouth formed a thin line. Marius wasn’t the type to sugarcoat it. “We lost both of the humans. They bled out.” His eyes held regret. “Kosta and Rodger are prepping for surgery back at the post. I’m taking the third. We should be there in a few minutes.”