by Katya Moore
I couldn't let that happen. Not to them. Not to anyone, ever again.
I drew in a deep breath, then exhaled over the door. Shards of ice embedded themselves in the wood of the door and the brick of the facade. They sizzled against the plaque in the wall. I focused my attention on that. A thin layer of frost built up over it as I blasted it again.
"Target the plaque!" I said to Chase.
Chase nodded and unleashed a powerful blast of flame over the small square of metal. It glowed with an unearthly greenish hue, then shattered, knocking us both back on our haunches.
Sia shifted down to her half-form and reached for the doorknob. Chase shook his head, then opened his mouth and blasted the door. It caved in, blasting shards of flaming wood into the front hallway of the townhouse.
"You know how to make an entrance," I said as I contained my dragon and shifted down to my half-form. My head spun with the effort. Being a dragon really did take it out of you.
Chase shifted down to his half-form and staggered a couple of steps. Apparently, it wasn't just me. He shook it off and charged into the corridor.
I looked at Sia, then at Galen, who had just fought his way over to join us. "Let’s go," I said with a bravado I didn’t feel, then charged in after Chase.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sia
As I ran in behind Aric, I was hit by a multitude of smells. Decay. Musk. Strange herbs. Spices. Death.
"Well, we're in the right place," Galen said as he came in behind me.
The townhouse looked remarkably like the Beauvais mansion, if the Beauvais family had chosen the Addams Family as their interior decorators. The walls were blood red, with long streaks of black soot running up the walls from flickering oil sconces. Intricately carved ebony woodwork edged the walls and framed ancient oil paintings too filthy to make out. I glanced into what appeared to be the main sitting room. A massive fireplace lay dormant, the mantle carved in twisting shapes that resembled the tentacles of some giant sea monster. Heavy black brocade drapes shrouded the windows, blocking all light. Ancient, moldering Victorian furniture sat arranged around a worn Oriental rug.
I looked a little closer. The pattern on the rug was a tangle of Chosen runes. I had a feeling it would be a singularly bad idea to step on it. Chase saw it at the same time I did. He stepped into the room and exhaled a stream of flame onto the ancient fabric. No reaction.
"Hey, Aric," he called.
Aric sauntered over and exhaled a cloud of frost over the fabric. Chase tried again, and this time, the carpet went up in a shower of sparks.
"Looks like we're a team," Chase sighed.
"Considering how well water dragons and fire dragons historically get along, that's not much of a shock. They know we hate each other's guts." Aric said, then frowned. "Where the hell is everyone?"
A sick feeling filled my stomach. "Probably in whatever ritual space they have. They're going to sacrifice the girls."
Chase's eyes darkened. "We need to split up and find them."
Galen looked at Chase with an arched brow. "You sure about that, boss?"
Chase growled softly. "I don't like it either, but we've got to find them fast."
"Let me," I said. "I can reach out and find them. Watch my back."
The boys formed a half-circle around me and waited expectantly, looking into rooms as I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind.
I felt the boys first. Anxiety from Galen, and fear from Aric and Chase. I wanted to reach out and comfort them, but there was no time to lose. I reached out farther, pushing myself harder. Faintly, I could feel something from around the corner.
They followed me as I led them down a darkened hall. Only a few of the oil lights flickered along the walls. The smell of decay was stronger here. I gagged a little but pushed on.
"What the hell do the Chosen have against electricity, anyway?" Aric muttered.
"Cass says it fucks with their rituals. Something about crossed energy streams. Their magic gets confused by it." Galen opened a door and peered in, then closed it. "Which is funny as hell, considering our electric-powered dragons are our magic-slingers."
"Magic. I don’t get it." Aric shook his head and batted a cobweb away from his face.
We passed a pair of closed doors. That's when they struck.
This time, there were no foot soldiers to be found. No minions. Just a dozen Chosen serpents, all painted with the marks of the priesthood.
"Oh fuck," Aric gasped as one of them began to form a ball of energy between his hands.
There was no room to shift further in this hall. No room to take on full dragon forms. We were trapped.
Galen gave a roar and reached out his arms. The walls sprang to life, with the ornate woodwork writhing and crackling into long, twisted branches. The Chosen startled, dodging the serpentine limbs that reached for them. I grabbed at the shadows that filled the hall and raised my hands high. Tentacles of shadow wrapped themselves around the wrists of the Chosen who'd made it into the hallway.
It was the distraction we needed. Chase blasted the energy-wielding priest in the face with a fountain of flame, and Aric began to unleash a torrent of ice around himself. I dragged my captured Chosen to the floor, where they writhed and screamed in pain and impotent fury. Galen shrouded his fists in stone and landed a brutal punch on the nearest priest.
Chase gave me a hard shove in the direction we'd been going. "Find them! We've got this!" As if to punctuate his command, I heard pounding footsteps behind us. Tyrone rounded the corner, followed by four of the biggest, most intimidating-looking fire dragon guards I'd seen yet.
"More of us coming!" he shouted, then plunged into the fray, incinerating one of my captive priests and punching another square in the face.
I took off at a run down the hall, focused entirely on my empathy. The sounds of combat faded in my ears as I gave myself over to my mind. I followed the wall. That nebulous feeling began to coalesce into something darker. Fear. Pain. Exultation. A loathsome, oily feeling of pure, unadulterated inhuman bliss. It festered in my chest as I stepped further down that darkened hall. My head swam. I leaned against a wall for support and opened my mouth to shout for backup.
"I’ve found…"
Suddenly, the wall gave way. I screamed and grabbed at the panels as strong arms wrapped around my waist, dragging me back into darkness. My talons dragged the wall, leaving deep gouges in the plaster. Another pair of hands clamped over my snout, stifling my scream. I stomped backward, trying to crush a foot, then realized the hands had scales. Fucking serpents.
I raised my hands, and the shadows sprung to life. They wrapped around the wrists of the one pinning my snout shut and I hauled with all of my mental might. The shadows ripped the hands away, and I snapped at the bound arm, ripping out a chunk of flesh. The blood tasted wrong, coppery and bitter and slightly toxic. I spat it out, then snapped at him again. The shadows writhed around me, lashing out at the one holding me around the waist. I raked his arms with my talons and screamed again. More hands snatched at my snout.
"Bind her, you fool!" one of my captors hissed.
Something icy cold snapped closed around my wrists. My body locked up. My scream died in my throat, vocal cords paralyzed. I looked at my wrist with wild eyes and saw the sigils carved into the silvery manacle. My scales faded into flesh, and I was hauled back into a dark staircase, helpless and human.
Stars flashed in front of my eyes as the back of my head slammed into the damp stone wall. The smell was hauntingly familiar, and not just from the house above. Spices, herbs, death, and the overwhelming decay of ages past. The air was heavy and humid. I didn't know how far below the house we were, but it felt like the cavern of the High Priest of Apep. The stairs had gone on forever. I guessed that we were down in the tunnels below, the old smuggling passages that predated the Revolutionary War. The same passages that held that cavern.
I looked around, only able to move my eyes. The founding fathers never expected these tunnel
s to be used like this. The room I was in was cavernous and sparsely furnished, but not nearly as large as the High Priest’s lair. The traditional Chosen torches hung in sconces at intervals on the walls. Darkened arches on either end of the room indicated that there was more to the tunnel system. I hoped that the captives were down one of the passages, that the empty manacles on either side of me weren't an indication that we were too late.
There was an ancient-looking cabinet with many drawers, black enameled surfaces engraved with twisting serpents. A desk with the same enameled surfaces sat to the side, covered in yellowed parchment scrolls and books that looked older than anything Cass had. The desk chair's back was a single iron serpent, coiled into a disc, head peering over the shoulder of whoever sat in it. If I'd seen it anyplace else, I'd have thought it was pretty cool. It lost its charm when I was hanging from manacles in a sub-basement.
A long wooden table occupied the center of the room. Carved sigils twisted and spiraled in a nauseating pattern around the edges. Dark stains covered the surface, black in the dim torchlight of the room. On the floor around it, I could see the silver chalk that the Witch Queen and High Priest used for their dark magic. My stomach twisted. They'd given me a front-row view of their ritual circle.
I heard a strangled scream from the tunnel to my right. My heart lurched in my chest. It was a scream of pain and terror. Half of me hoped that it wasn't Lina. Half of me hoped that it was, because that would mean she was alive.
Six serpent priests slithered into view, each pair dragging a limp, chained woman. The captives were young, filthy, and covered with bruises and welts. Their forest camouflage-patterned clothing hung in tatters from their dangling limbs. I stared in horror. One was a redhead, pale beyond pale, her delicate features distorted and swollen. One had short-cropped brown hair and deeply tanned skin, darker still with deep bruises. The other had a sallow complexion, long black hair, and Chase's eyes.
The priests slammed their captives against the wall on either side of me and slapped the manacles around their wrists. The girls sagged against the wall, to all appearances unconscious. I wanted to scream at the priests. I wanted to talk to the girls, to tell them that help was coming. I tried, but only a thin, crackling noise came out. I coughed hard, trying to force a sound, any sound.
One of the priests looked at me through narrow slitted eyes. "Patience, Dragon Queen. Your time will come."
I spat in his face. At least my mouth worked that much. He raised his hand to slap me.
"Have you lost your mind?" one of his cohort hissed. "If you damage her, not even Apep himself would be able to save you."
The priest let his hand drop and slithered away. "Soon," he hissed.
They slithered back down the tunnel and left us to our fates.
I glanced at Lina. Her eyes were open, staring blankly before her.
"You... you're the Shadow Queen?” Her voice was hollow. I ached at how young she sounded.
I nodded. I tried to speak again, and only managed a creaking gasp. I strained harder. "Yes," I croaked at last.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then smiled Chase's crooked smile. "At least I got to meet you, then. Chase...he told me about you. Said he’d found you. Said not to tell anyone." She opened her eyes and gave me a sidelong glance. "I didn't. Don't worry."
I nodded again and managed a weak smile.
"He says you're a good person. A fighter. That you're just what dragonkind has needed all along." She laughed bitterly, then coughed, hard and racking. "Guess we're not gonna find out, huh?"
I tried to give her a reassuring look. "It's going to be okay. Chase is here," I rasped to her. I couldn't tell if she heard or understood. She slumped back against the wall, head bowed.
A familiar voice rasped from the tunnel on the left.
"Well, well. What precious creatures have Apep's Chosen brought me this evening?"
My heart pounded in my chest. It was her. The Witch Queen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She was even creepier than I remembered, gliding into the room as though her feet didn't touch the ground. Her snow-white skin glowed eerily in the torchlight. Her long, stringy white hair hung unbound past her waist, like cobwebs. This time, she wore the Chosen colors of silver and red. Her arms were bare and skeletal, her gown a sheath of silver gauze ending in a loincloth-like skirt, exposing her terrifyingly thin legs. I could see her ribs clearly outlined on her sides. As she turned to face the carved cabinet, blood-red eyes stared at me from the low back of her gown, the same pattern as the hoods of the priests of Apep.
A chill ran through me. There was no doubting her purpose here. Someone was about to die.
I fought at my bonds. I could feel life returning to my limbs at a maddening crawl. They tingled as though they’d been asleep for years. I rattled my chains feebly, fighting for control.
The Witch Queen gestured impatiently at the right-hand corridor. One of the serpent priests returned, flattening himself in a prostrate bow.
"Bring me one of the scouts," she rasped.
Lina's eyes opened wide in horror. She looked at me helplessly, the whites of her eyes bright in the dim torchlight. I summoned every ounce of strength I had in me and lurched against my bonds, an inhuman croak bursting from my lips.
The priest laughed at me, then reached up and unlocked the manacles around the redheaded scout's wrists. She crumpled to the ground, nearly lifeless already. The priest scooped her up and carried her to the table.
"She is ready for you, my Queen." He bowed again and fled to the tunnel.
My mind raced. There had to be something I could do. Anything. I had to stop this.
I reached out to the shadows. Nothing.
I reached into myself and searched for my dragon. A sharp pain ripped through my body. It was as though my dragon was wrapped in thorny branches. Any movement and a thousand sharp points tore through it. I gasped in pain, but kept trying.
The Witch Queen turned and smiled. My blood ran cold at the sight of it. She glided over to the table and ran unnaturally long fingers along the fire dragon's cheek. The girl's eyes flickered open, then froze in a look of unholy terror. A burbling scream ripped itself out of her throat, long and shrill and utterly heartbreaking in its intensity. Tears burned at my eyes. The witch ran her fingers across the girl's mouth. The scream died abruptly, but the girl's look of horror grew exponentially.
"AVA!" Lina screamed. The Witch Queen raised her hand. Lina's mouth slammed shut, her head pinned to the wall as though someone had stifled her with a rough hand.
My jaw clenched in rage. My mind whirled.
With her distractions out of the way, the Witch Queen began her work. She paced the silver circle, checking for breaks in the lines and sigils, touching up spots here and there with silver chalk. She gave a satisfied nod, then stepped into the center, next to the table. One hand rested on the girl's forehead, the other on her groin. The girl jolted, then lay frozen on the table as the witch began to chant in a soft, raspy voice.
I closed my eyes and tried to turn my head. I needed the boys. I needed to get the boys down here.
Wait.
I didn't know how far away they were. I barely knew how to do it. But it was our only chance.
I reached out with my mind, clawing and grasping my way back up the stairs, through the dark halls. My eyes squeezed tighter. I reached out, pushing harder than I'd ever pushed. Someone. Anyone. I needed a mind to reach.
I felt something fuzzy at the edges of my senses. Something warm. Something safe, yet angry and full of fear at the same time.
Chase.
With every ounce of will I had in my body, I shoved my mind at him. The hallway. The stairs. The horrific tableau in front of me.
Hurry. Just hurry.
I poured every bit of urgency into that fuzzy edge of consciousness and prayed it was enough.
I slumped against the wall and opened my eyes. And I realized I was too late.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She was glowing. Ava was glowing, white-hot and so bright it nearly blinded me. The Witch Queen’s chant reached a fevered, keening pitch, her fingers clawing at the young scout’s face and groin. The girl’s eyes were wild with fear, but the spell’s paralysis prevented her from even being able to scream.
I grabbed at the shadows again. The thorns tore at my dragon again, deeper, so painful that stars sparkled in front of my eyes. The twisting shadows around the table began to coalesce. I could feel them coming under my control for one precious second. My dragon screamed in agony. I collapsed against the wall again, breathless and angry at my own weakness.
The Witch Queen released her grip on the helpless girl and stepped back, raising her hands and shouting exultant words in a tongue that made my blood run cold. Ava screamed then, a long animal cry of unspeakable agony. Flames as black as night engulfed her, and I managed a thin strangled cry of horror as they consumed her. Lina screamed a long string of obscenities, threats, and sobbing pleas, freed from her magical silence to rage impotently alongside me.
In seconds, Ava was gone. Flesh, bone, every bit of her. Gone. All that remained was a fine red powder, scattered in a thin layer over the surface of the table. My heart was in my throat. Everything that girl was. Her hopes. Her dreams. Her most intimate thoughts. Her very soul. Reduced to dust.
Lina sobbed next to me. Her pain was an ache in my heart. But a distant, coldly intellectual part of my brain screamed at me. They had what they wanted. They had the essence of someone who had intimate knowledge of the perimeters of the Proving Grounds.
They won.
The Witch Queen picked up a small brush with sable bristles and began to sweep up the essence into a tidy pile. She hummed as she worked, an unsettling tune from an unsettling presence.
