She’d been helping to build the bomb that would end the war. She was part of the new-space Manhattan Project and by the grace of their planet’s rotation, they’d been behind the line until now.
The line had just come to them.
“You knew twenty-three centuries ago that this day would come!” Rysa yelled. “Do your damned job. We have incoming!”
The alien glint moved close enough that Rysa picked out its glider shape. It shimmered in the sun, a huge plane with a teardrop-shaped fuselage and wide, articulated wings.
And it was moving fast.
“I don’t see engines,” Ladon said. “Easier to crash a plane if you hit an engine.”
Dragon pranced between the approaching plane and Daisy as she arranged the swords.
“Mr. Barston,” Daisy said, and pointed at the swords.
Ladon pulled the new-killing gun out from under his arm, then glanced at Dragon. “We’ll be ahead,” he said, and then he and the beast ran toward the incoming plane.
Rysa’s husband and her dragon were all that stood between the new-Manhattan Project and the advancement of the war beyond the Mississippi River. If they failed, if they missed and the Incursion stayed open, the invaders would make a second sweep and the Earth would cease being human and become dragon because there would cease to be any humans at all.
Rysa walked toward Billy and the creepy troll core of their bomb. “This time, we close the wound in the sky.” She watched Ladon stop and aim the gigantic hand cannon at the plane.
He meant to shoot it down. Ladon and Dragon were going to shoot down an alien plane with a handheld gun.
As silly as it seemed, such a feat was why the world had the Legio Draconis.
“Don’t get too close, luv.” Billy held up his hand.
Terry grinned.
She wanted to give Billy a hug. She wanted to tell him that it would be okay and that they’d all come out of this alive, but she wouldn’t lie to him.
She stared directly at Terry. “Billy carried you here. Billy took on the whole ‘vessel’ thing so that I would be free to figure out how to aim your implosion at the Incursion. Billy willingly makes this sacrifice. He is Legion, you pathetic monster. You’re nothing but a talking bomb. Do you understand? You shut the fuck up and if you click your teeth at me one more time, when this is done, I will find this time loop’s version of you and I will kick his creepy little ass.”
Terry oozed bright orange chaos. Orange like the Incursion’s ring. Orange like she’d surprised him enough that he was putting up a Warning! Danger Ahead! sign.
Rysa stepped close enough that if he lunged, he could snatch her around the neck. “It’s time. We work together.”
Terry’s face flattened. His chaos turned stony. “If you find me, Ms. Drake, kill me. Send someone else this time.”
Rysa lifted her chin. “Is that what you want?”
He remained perfectly still. Billy did as well. Daisy looked between Rysa, and Ladon and Dragon, standing off with their gun.
Terry, still statue-like, narrowed his eyes. “No one is as bound by fate as the Progenitors.”
She wouldn’t concede. Not to a man who couldn’t see beyond his millennia’s-worth of anger. She grinned. “I am Fate, Mr. Schmidt. I can knot and unknot any fate I like.”
It was a lie—it had to be a lie—but it was a lie he needed to hear. So she spit out a delusion of grandeur to get a fire troll to cooperate with his own demise.
Terry dropped his gaze. “You will need to release Poke, Mr. Barston. Ms. Pavlovich will need it to finish the cage.”
Billy placed his hand on the hilt. “I may need a hand with the duct tape.”
Rysa nodded. “Here.”
Billy put out his hand. “Stay back for now. Please, luv.” He nodded to Daisy. “Poke will have Burner blood, Ms. Daisy. It’ll begin imploding the moment I draw it.”
Daisy held up the shard of Janus’s talisman. “The moment you see this transmorph, pull Poke and set it across the other blades to close the triangle.”
Billy nodded and carefully began pulling off the tape. “At least I had the foresight to not tape my skin, aye?”
Rysa and Daisy both grinned.
“Yes,” Rysa said.
“We should hurry,” Daisy said.
Billy looked up at Rysa as he pulled a long swath of tape off his midsection. “Nice hat, by the way,” he said. “Pink suits you.”
Rysa laughed. She shouldn’t laugh, but sometimes laughing was the only thing a body could do in the face of terror.
Billy grinned. He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. He tipped his head as if listening.
Then he closed his eyes and looked up at the sky.
“Billy?” They needed to get the tape off Poke.
He smiled. “My God,” he said. He looked directly at her. “They’re talking about me.”
She didn’t hear anything. Terry and Daisy obviously heard nothing. It had to be the telemetry.
“Make sure they know, okay? The kids. Make sure they know I can hear them so they tell me things that will help.” He pointed up at the sky.
“Who, Billy?” She didn’t dare get closer. Not with Terry looking as shocked as she felt.
Billy wiped at his eye. “The Intrepid,” he said. “Mamma Bear and her Sentinels.”
“Are you hearing—”
A loud, high-pitched whine made them both cringe. Rysa ducked and turned toward the approaching craft.
And there, a good football field away, Ladon and Dragon stood facing the coming threat.
Ladon fired the new-killing gun.
The beast, like his sister, continued to suppress what Ladon knew he would have been feeling if the first humans he’d met in two thousand years had dropped from the sky and destroyed his home.
Did such an emotion even have a name? He suspected it had a dragon-meaning cathedral that the beast and his sister had not yet shared.
They wouldn’t, until this was over. Distracting the humans with grief was not a good idea.
Are you sure about this? Dragon pushed.
“What else are we going to do?” Ladon asked.
He checked his aim. The gun, though heavy, balanced well. The approaching craft showed with distinction in the scope, which supplied a significant amount of range data.
He’d turned on the gun’s long-distance mode. The plane was a good forty miles away but approaching fast.
The gun’s interior workings spun up and a loud, metallic whine pulsed out into the field.
Not very stealthy when it’s on high, is it? Ladon pushed.
Do you think one bullet will be enough? The beast peered at the glint on the horizon.
“Guess we’ll find out.” Ladon squeezed the trigger.
The kickback almost knocked him on his ass.
He counted. One, two, three…
The bullet ripped through the left wing of the invader’s plane. The vessel dipped and swerved and looked like it was about to sputter, but nothing leaked. No smoke trailed. A thick, dark gutter marred the wing. The plane kept coming.
The damned thing righted itself.
“Damn it.” Ladon aimed again just as a sliver of the sun crested the eastern horizon directly behind the plane.
He squinted.
Perhaps we should ask Mr. Barston to lick one of the bullets before we fire it? Dragon pushed.
A joke? From Dragon? Ladon stared into the sun but held the invaders in his scope, and fired another new-killing bullet.
Ladon counted again. One, two, three…
The entire drop-shaped front of the fuselage exploded in an umbrella-like cloud of shimmering dust and shards.
“Heh,” he said.
The umbrella held as if the craft had some sort of field holding it together.
He checked the gun. Three bullets left. He aimed, and fired again.
This bullet ruptured the field. The umbrella vaporized, as did the back side of the fuselage. Both wings tipped downward.
The plane stopped. Not crashed. Not landed. It stopped and each piece fell gently downward as if settled by the hand of a god.
Ladon looked over his shoulder. Daisy and Rysa ushered Billy into the angle made by the intersection of Stab and the daggers.
Ladon looked through the scope at the semi-crashed ship just as the soldier-dragon exited.
He knew in his bones the new beast wasn’t the monster from the vision. They were connected—Nest—but this one was not the one in charge. This one wasn’t big enough, though if he had to guess, he was half again the length of Dragon.
The new dragon wore obvious armor over his chest. It extended down his belly for a few feet, then ended in a rounded point about half way to the dragon’s hind legs. His legs, neck, and head looked also odd, as if he had an extra-thick layer of skin in those areas.
Most likely, he wore a second type of armor that allowed his natural skin lights to be visible.
Dragon-shaped goggles covered his eyes. Some type of glove-like articulation protected his hand-claws. But what caught Ladon’s eye was the bright, glaring blood-tone on the tip of his thrashing tail.
A horde of hellhounds followed him out of the ship.
His Dragon’s hide darkened to a shadow. The beast vanished completely.
The soldier-dragon turned broadside to Ladon and Dragon, and flashed a long sequence of colors and patterns.
Did you understand any of that? Ladon asked Dragon.
No, Dragon pushed, though it was obviously language.
“My guess is he told us to surrender.” Ladon backed toward Rysa and Daisy.
Hellhounds moved fast, and if the soldier-dragon could move at Dragon’s speed, they would be on top of the group in less than fifteen minutes.
Two bullets left. Using one on the new dragon would not stop the hellhounds, and he should wait until he was close enough for a clear, no-miss shot.
“Go!” he said, and ran toward Rysa and Daisy.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Moments earlier…
The helicopter lifted off the cold dirt, tilted slightly toward the horizon, and accelerated out over the field.
Gavin threw his car’s transmission into park and opened the door before the vehicle stopped rolling. He skidded down the bank just as Mr. Sisto pulled the bus onto the road. Radar and Ragnar jumped out after him, both silent, both with their hackles up.
The cop running up the hill yelled something about “hellhounds” attacking the dragons but the only thing Gavin saw was Daisy leaving.
“Gavin!” Ian yelled. “Wait!”
They were supposed to stay in the car. Wait until they got the all clear and then move to the bus. No being out in the open. No running down hills or chasing after flying helicopters.
No being a fool when it could get him killed.
He was never going to see Daisy again.
Never. She wouldn’t come back. He stood in the cold shadows next to some giant box with a window and a door, his dogs flanking him, surrounded by invisible creatures called hellhounds, and he didn’t care.
Mr. Sisto yelled. AnnaBelinda swore and Sister-Dragon threw a bear-like beast into the field. Radar and Ragnar backed against Gavin’s legs, and that cop was trying to corral Ian and another big man Gavin didn’t know.
He’d walked into Hell itself and he didn’t care.
The sun peeked up over the horizon. A long, golden streak set the broken stalks in the field on fire. A new day dawned at the end of the world and Gavin didn’t care.
“Hey! Kid! Come back here!” Mr. Sisto yelled.
Ian must have followed him down the hill.
“Who the hell are you?” Sisto called.
“The brother,” replied the cop.
Ian should have known better. He should have gotten on the bus.
“Mike!” yelled the other man Gavin didn’t know. “To your—”
Something thudded against the giant box. Ragnar growled.
“Jason!” the cop said. “Respond.”
Between Gavin and the field, in the shadow lines thrown by the rising sun, something moved.
Gavin backed against the box. The door stood ajar, and someone had carved a hole in one of the seats inside.
The box thudded again. Radar barked.
“Quiet!” Gavin snapped. The last thing he needed was his dog snatched by an invisible monster.
Radar looked up and growled again anyway.
The thing on top of the box sort of looked like a dragon, but stockier and with a smaller head, like a bear. It rumbled as it curled its six talons around the top edge. Slowly, it lowered its head to sniff at Gavin’s face.
Lights played along the side of its neck. Kill, it said, but not in a human or dragon kind of way. It meant kill the same way that Radar and Ragnar barked aggression.
He understood the hellhound.
“Radar! Ragnar! Come!”
AnnaBelinda. He didn’t dare look away. Not with a hellhound “barking” at him.
The dogs whimpered.
“Go,” he said. “Do what Anna tells you.” Even though he knew damned well what she intended by her yell. The dogs were to run. The hellhound would chase. Gavin would be saved but not Daisy’s boys.
How could he be so weak?
Radar looked up at him.
“Come!” Anna yelled.
The dogs took off across the field. The hound looked at him, then at the dogs, then at him again. Chase appeared on its neck, and it jumped over his head.
“Run!” he bellowed. “Run to Anna!” Please be safe, he thought.
The hound landed a good ten feet from the box. Its front limbs hit first as its spine curled like a cheetah’s. Then its back legs landed where its front had been.
It would overtake the dogs before they got to Anna. They were fast, but not—
The hellhound skidded. Something larger than it, something with completely invisible hands, grabbed it by the neck.
“Sister-Dragon,” he breathed.
They rolled, the hound and the dragon. Surprise appeared on the hound’s hide first, then kill.
She pinned it flat on its back and flashed the brightest, most blinding white light he’d ever seen from one of the dragons.
Her lights were clear: You are not wanted here. You are not good. You are not Nest. You are evil.
Sister-Dragon breathed fire and set the hound ablaze.
He’d lost Daisy, but the dragons—the Dracae—had lost all that was them. They’d just been subsumed under a tsunami of six-taloned death and if it didn’t kill them physically today, it most definitely murdered their spirit.
Ian rounded the corner of the box, followed closely by the big cop named Seaver. Both were as pale as the snow. Ian shook. He hyperventilated too, and looked like he was about to vomit.
“Jesus,” Ian said. “It’s burning.”
Embers. Burning skin. Cooking meat. The hound screamed and thrashed and tried to run away.
Sister-Dragon snapped its neck.
“Get in the containment unit.” Seaver pushed Ian and Gavin toward the door. “Now!” He ducked around the corner. “They’re here!” he yelled.
“Where’s Mr. Sisto?” Gavin asked. He’d been with the bus. “Where’s—”
“Get your skinny little boy ass inside the containment unit immediately,” growled the cop.
Ian pushed Gavin toward the door. “A hellhound got the other guy,” he whispered.
Gavin squeezed through the door. Ian followed, as did the big cop.
“You two get in the corner,” Seaver ordered. “Stay down.”
A sudden, sharp heat burned through the pocket of Gavin’s jeans. He yelped and patted at the pocket, his mind automatically looking for an overheating phone. But he’d left his in the car with its charger and the charger for his aids, and all the other electronics they scraped together before leaving Minneapolis.
The heat flared to a searing point against his hip.
The ring Dunn gave him in exchan
ge for the Tsar’s ring. The little opal. He’d had it in his pocket since they left the house.
And it was burning through his jeans.
“Shit shit shit!” Gavin tucked the hem of his t-shirt into his pocket and plucked out the ring. It flew across the containment unit, bounced off the wall, and landed on the seat of the chair with the carved out back.
Mr. Sisto entered and slammed the door behind him. “Anna and Sister-Dragon will bring the bus down here.” He looked out the window. “We sit tight until they come.”
Seaver looked down at the ring, then up at Gavin. He pointed at the ring. “Why the hell is that thing glowing?”
On the horizon, between them and the rising sun, a column of fire erupted toward the sky.
And they moved.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Billy closed his eyes. “I’m hearing the future… a future.” He looked as if holding back tears caused more hurt than Poke. “They have to be the future that happens.”
Rysa pulled the optimizers over her eyes and wove her seers into their workings. Her future-seer wasn’t giving her anything beyond the information it helped to pull from the optimizers, but her gut told her Billy spoke the truth.
Right now, as he stood in a Nebraska field with a sword in his side and a demon bound to his soul, the future was telling Billy Bare “thank you.”
His ride-along demon seemed miffed that, as their Progenitor, Billy got Intrepid radio and not him. He stood quietly for now—probably too quietly. They had a moment to work in peace, at least.
“You two—four…” Billy pointed at the horizon and Ladon and Dragon. “You four must survive this. You must, princess.”
Daisy held Janus’s shard. She wouldn’t look at Billy. She didn’t ask questions about the future ship.
Rysa’s present-seer picked up that Billy’s rantings gave Daisy some comfort. That, somewhere out there in the iteration helix of history, at least one pass through these events created a future in which humanity built a spaceship called Intrepid.
Their coming sacrifice had meaning. Maybe not for them, but maybe for their children. And maybe, just maybe, for some other, alternate version of themselves.
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