“Thom said you circled back. I thought you would have reached your camp by now.” He blinked several times, his eyes red and watering. “I didn’t expect you to be out here.”
“Can you see?” I started toward him. “At all?” I caught a whiff of what he held and stumbled back. “What is that?”
“It’s a recipe I brought from home, modified for this terrene.” He held up an egg. “I miscalculated on the first batch. This one is better.”
This close, I could see he was missing one eyebrow and his eyelashes were matted snarls. His eyes were demon-red with inflammation, and his complexion would make lobsters envious. His tee was charred, with a hole eaten through the center, the skin beneath crispy.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” This was the kind of reckless behavior I expected out of Santiago, not Miller. Usually, he was far too cautious to make such a careless mistake. “Should I take you to Thom?”
“He’s already patched me up.” He shifted the materials in his hands. “He said I’ll be fully recovered within the hour.”
“And you thought — Hey, I’m half blind. Now is a great time to randomly lob homemade grenades on an island only populated by my coterie?”
“We need more practical weapons,” he countered. “Fast.” He lifted one of the eggs. “There are humans here.”
Ah. Now we got to the ooey-gooey heart of the matter.
“Technically, there’s only one human here. Maggie is a charun host, and that makes her sturdier than the average mortal.”
“She has no battle form, no fangs, no scales, no venom, no claws. All Maggie has is soft, pink skin, and Portia is only as durable as the body she inhabits.”
None of this explained why he felt his time was better spent mixing homemade explosives. Santiago must have packed one of every weapon known to man. For this exact reason. He wanted Portia armed so she could protect herself. That meant Maggie was also covered. Literally. Santiago had altered the suit of flexible armor he made for her. They were wearing it now. There must be more to this, but I couldn’t see the angle.
“Miller.” As much as I hated playing devil’s advocate, someone had to do it. “What if she had been the one out here walking instead of us?” His stricken expression caused my heart to physically ache. “I know you want to protect her, but you have to take care of yourself too. What would she say if she saw you right now? You look like you stuck your spoon in a light socket, and the light socket won.”
Glancing away, he mumbled, “She would be mad.”
“Santiago made her suit up before we came to the island,” I reminded him. “You saw Rixton wear the suit in battle. You know how durable it is. It can save human lives. It could save their life if it comes down to it.”
Thankfully, Santiago had an earlier prototype far enough along he was able to modify that one for Rixton. Since it didn’t have any sequins, Rixton didn’t complain much. Even if it had saggy flaps across his chest meant to accommodate the larger boobs of the host Portia had been inhabiting at the time.
“Go clean yourself up.” To make sure he did as he was told, I hit below the belt. “I’m going to tell Maggie you got hurt mixing chemicals. I’m sure she’ll be around to lecture you more thoroughly within the next hour or so.”
Miller whipped his head toward me. “Luce —”
“Nope.” I turned to go. “That’s your punishment. Suck it up and deal.”
Once we reached our camp, I wrestled with an uncharitable thought that popped into my head.
“You don’t think he did it on purpose?” I scanned the area behind us, but it’s not like I could see him. It was full dark now, and he had retreated back to his camp. “That would be … diabolical.”
He had given himself a boo-boo in an uncharacteristically reckless manner, drawn our attention to it by compounding his mistake. He almost blew us sky high, ensuring I would use Maggie as a threat and likely tattle on him even if he did as he was told. Talk about a perfect excuse for Maggie to take the reins and ditch Santiago in the middle of Portia’s movie night.
“Coterie dynamics give me a headache.” I massaged my forehead. “Did we pack any aspirin?”
Digital alarms screamed into the night, and I dropped my arm, muscles clenching in anticipation.
Cold sweat beaded on my spine, and I tasted frost when a second plume of dirt shot high in the air.
Always the first to scent Conquest on me, Cole angled his face away before I read his expression.
Phoebe leapt the rubble to join us. “The Malakhim are here.”
We had seconds to spare, a formation to determine, but I wasted them gathering Cole and Phoebe to me in a hug that lasted the length of a heartbeat.
When I turned them loose, they traded their human skins for their dragons. Since one of us had to be able to communicate with our allies, most of which had mastered English, that left me on two legs until the absolute last possible second.
“Here we go,” I said under my breath and leapt onto Cole’s back. “Move to defend the right side of the island.” That’s where our most vulnerable were stationed, not that I would ever say that to Rixton’s face. “We need to give Miller and the others a chance to make a dent in their lines.”
From high above the island, I had a bird’s eye view of the Malakhim host, three times the size of the last one, an almost incomprehensible number, converging on us. Heart in my throat, I twined my fingers in Cole’s mane and swallowed the impulse to tell him I loved him. He knew, and I knew he knew. I couldn’t distract him with sentiment. I had to focus, to let him focus too.
Sweat turned my palms clammy as I waited for our first line of defense to strike, and when it came, I sucked in a shocked breath as a robust Diorte leapt from the water and swallowed two Malakhim whole. The kill bloodied the waters, so to speak, and I sat back and gaped as a chain reaction sent more of the massive beasts rocketing out of the water where they devoured our enemies in twos and threes before slashing down, soaking others and causing them to lose altitude.
Now, I had watched enough Discovery Channel in my day to know great white sharks achieved insane air when they breached off the coast of Seal Island near Cape Town, South Africa. But I hadn’t been ready to witness similar feats in person. Neither had the Malakhim.
Cries rang out, and their neat lines scattered as more and bigger creatures began preying on them. Their slow advance toward the island became a race to avoid becoming fish food.
As soon as the Malakhim crossed over dry land, plumes of dirt blasted them, blinding them, giving Rixton a chance to hurl more of Miller’s bombs at them to blast through what remained of their front lines.
There was no question of when Death joined the fray. The smell would have clued me in even if the shock of watching corpses in various stages of decay claw their way free of the earth hadn’t explained why she had chosen this place. That earlier kernel of hope, barely a wish, blossomed as she worked her magic on a scale I had been too afraid to dream. Her forces came in all sizes, some nothing but bone, others fresh enough to make my eyes water, more caught between the extremes.
Our numbers doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled as she summoned the slumbering dead to our aid.
They swarmed the fallen Malakhim brought down by the coterie and tore them to pieces with their brittle hands and cracked teeth then moved on to the next victim and the next, leaving a trail of wings, blood, and feathers in their wake.
Death wavered on her feet, the strain on her obvious, but she kept her arms upraised while Janardan and her coterie guarded her from attack.
The tide was far from turning, but we had a better chance now than when we started. I’d take it.
The best thing about Death’s risen army was they were already dead. They had nothing to lose, and that’s how they fought. Frenzied. Maddened. Frantic. They cut through Malakhim like winning meant they could claw their way back to life.
I watched a second longer then jerked my attention away from Death, who clearly ha
d things under control, to pinpoint Phoebe, a master of invisibility if ever there was one.
I had pictured myself as a general yelling orders to her troops, but my troops had it under control. Or maybe it was just that at this point, all the hard calls had already been made. There was no time left. This was happening.
Now.
Right now.
Finally.
Sliding off Cole’s back, I embraced my inner dragon, shifting in midair, trusting that form to save me.
A feminine roar blasted over my shoulder as Phoebe flanked me, covering me while I gained my bearings. As soon as my wings quit wobbling, she was gone. Vanished. But I tracked her steady progress via Malakhim dropping from the sky without a scratch on them.
Since it was a favorite move of mine, I didn’t have to see her to know she was snapping their necks with hard cracks from her muscular tail.
The hitch in my chest winded me, but there was no time to mourn her loss of innocence. I had to do my part. And, as much as I hated it, so did she.
Gunshots rang out below where Rixton clipped a Malakhim, wounding him enough for Portia to …
A harpoon gun? How did … ? Who authorized that?
Sure enough, Portia gut shot a Malakhim with the massive rod, its hooked end punching through the wannabe angel’s back, then she and Rixton pulled him down using the attached cord. As soon as their victim got within range, she lopped off his head, he tossed the body, and they began the cycle again.
Santiago was nowhere to be seen, but he was aquatic. He might have taken to the water with our allies.
What gave me heart palpitations was Thom’s absence, but it was too late to worry for him. I would have to trust him to stay alive until I found him again.
Throwing myself into the fray, I knocked Malakhim out of the sky to give Portia and Rixton easier targets. The ones who dodged the punishing strength of my tail, I bit until they crunched like a thin layer of chocolate shell over vanilla ice cream then spit them into the water.
We were holding the island, but the host numbered in the hundreds, and there was no sign of Ezra.
This was his party. He damn well better put in an appearance.
Cole zipped away to strike down a clot of Malakhim attempting to fly with their backs to each other. He didn’t have to work hard to send them crashing into the mouth of waiting Diorte. Their tangled wings had all but done the work for him.
A blur of movement below me gave me Miller’s ETA. He must have run out of ammo or dropped it off with Rixton and Portia. He sure couldn’t use it now. His snake form coiled and sprung, his jaws unhinging to gulp down his prey, weapons and all.
The relentless tide of the opposition pounded us, but we hit back twice as hard, not gaining any ground but not losing any either. The Malakhim took staggering losses, but they kept on coming. We couldn’t keep this up forever. At this rate, we would be exhausted when and if Ezra arrived. Hell, we might fall asleep on our feet before he got here.
Please, God, if ever you wanted to prove your existence, now would be a great time.
No miracle manifested, not that I had expected one, which, honestly, might have been the whole problem. Faith. Or a severe lack thereof.
A ripple flowed through the Malakhim, a reordering of ranks, and half of them pivoted to face the rear.
Heart booming in my ears, I prayed even harder, both terrified and relieved this might be the coming of Ezra. The end or the beginning, I couldn’t tell yet.
But as a yowling chorus rose, thousands of cats hissing and screaming, and other war cries besides, I was left more confused than ever.
What the actual hell?
Then I saw them, and I wept with gratitude.
I had no idea how Santiago organized this second wave, but I had no doubt he was the one responsible. He had gathered these allies to us, after all, and despite my hopes we could win this on our own, he was reminding me I didn’t have to do this alone.
Burnt-orange bobcats with purple wings. Mothlike fighters with their antennae curled tight to their skulls. Beyond the more familiar spread our newer allies, their feline aspects tagging them as ours.
Tabby stripes, marmalade, tortoiseshell fur. Round ears, pointed ears, folded ears. Tails, nubs, tailless. Claws, nails, talons. All colors and shapes and sizes, all armed and spoiling for a fight if their pinned-back ears were any indication.
Flying cats versus birdmen.
Life didn’t get any weirder than this.
The clash when their frontline met the Malakhim’s rearguard was earsplitting with all the caterwauling, but it was music to my ears. The Malakhim compressed in the air, fighting in close quarters, threatening to knock each other down with dueling wings vying for the same airspace.
The tide was turning in our favor. We were winning.
But where was Ezra?
The flagging Malakhim screamed their own challenge, a throaty morale boost with no origin I could identify.
That couldn’t be good.
As much as I didn’t want to eat more people, I let the dragon’s instincts rule me, and she had no qualms about filling her belly. I couldn’t say for sure it was Conquest goading me. It might have been pure instinct. Either way, the battle spun out, faded, as I threw myself into staying alive.
A burst of dazzling light on the horizon set my heart pounding double time.
He was here.
Ezra was here.
What have I done?
Unbidden, the crystalline voice I recognized as Conquest answered, “What must be done.”
Unable to let either of them distract me, I kept plowing through the vanguard, stealing glimpses of the coterie from the corner of my eye. They hadn’t spotted Ezra yet. Cole would know what the light show meant, assuming Wu hadn’t been improvising when he busted us out of the bunker, but the others might not grasp its significance.
Wu.
Damn it.
In the chaos, I had forgotten him. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen Kapoor either.
I couldn’t very well press pause on the action while I hunted them down, and then, I didn’t have to wonder.
Wu had shucked his usual business casual appearance in favor of donning the uniform of the Malakhim, a fancier version, sure, but it stated his allegiance louder and clearer than if he’d worn a Daddy’s Boy T-shirt with matching pacifier.
That fucking coward had switched sides.
Cole hovered beside me, noticing the same thing and showing about as much surprise as I felt.
I had never wished so hard to be holding a harpoon gun of my own. I would aim that sucker and fire a bolt straight through Wu’s treacherous heart. Assuming he had one. It might be safer just to spear him through the head, feed him to a Diorte, and call it a day.
No wonder he made a point of hammering home the fact we couldn’t kill him without killing me too. What he had done to me paled in comparison to this epic betrayal. With the enclave safe across the ocean, he must have decided to crawl home to Daddy before things got hard. Did he really think Ezra would let the enclave live now that he knew about them? What a colossal idiot. Or maybe that was just me.
Eager to lead this charge, I could taste his blood in my mouth, and I salivated at the chance for payback.
A blast of pure, white light exploded across my field of vision, and I had to blink away spots.
Wu hadn’t changed his position, so the angle of the flare was wrong for him. That must mean … Ezra was coming. I half expected his father to bail since his son was kind enough to lead the charge for him. But no, he was here. I couldn’t see him yet, but I could track him by his glow if he didn’t dial it down.
The fighting tapered off as Wu approached, the Malakhim looking to him for guidance, and it cost them. The Cuprina-led contingent closing in behind them showed our enemies no mercy. Wu didn’t cross over onto land but stayed above the water, out of range of our allies.
“Conquest,” he intoned. “You are a blight on this world.”
&
nbsp; These guys really loved name-calling. Too bad I wasn’t human at the moment. I would have hurled a few choice names back at him. I had to settle for hissing through my very sharp, very bloodstained teeth.
“Come with me.” He held out a golden rope that shone with power and reminded me of a juiced-up version of the tether he left tied around Kapoor’s ankle. “I give my word your coterie will not be harmed if you cooperate. You can end this without further bloodshed.”
The dangerous growl rumbling through Cole was fierce, a promise of violence if Wu tried getting that noose around my neck or anything else.
Honestly, it gave me warm fuzzies. Harpoon guns aside, I would pay good money to watch Cole take a bite out of Wu.
“This is your final warning.” His face remained impassive, blank like he had never met me, never fought alongside me. “Come with me, or you will all perish.”
“Suck it,” Rixton yelled from below us. “You’re a fucking liar and a Wonder Woman wannabe. Lasso of Truth? Really? The irony.”
The harpoon gun lay buried in the sand. It must have run out of ammo. Ah, well. There went that fantasy.
“What he said,” Portia hollered, fury vibrating through her. “Get down here so I can kick your feathery ass.”
Wu ignored them and adjusted the loop, allowing the rope to hang at his side. “Father will not be pleased.”
“No one cares about your daddy issues.” Santiago ran from the direction of the largest structure, his hair and clothes soaked through. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.” He aimed a grenade launcher at Wu. “Boom, baby.”
The blast didn’t so much as dent Wu, but it did hurl him several yards away, and it knocked the closest Malakhim down with a splash.
I still had to suppress the urge to clap. It was no harpoon gun, but it was a decent substitute.
“I told you it wasn’t powerful enough,” he griped at Miller. “You should have added more —”
Portia snatched the weapon from him, rested it on her shoulder, and fired again. Wu took her shot in the chest. His altitude dipped as he shook it off, but we had lost the element of surprise, and he was prepared to counter direct hits.
End Game (The Foundling Series) Page 18
