"Let's get going," Victor reminded us in a mutter. "We don't have much time."
Force wanted to be the one to shoot the bra across the room but I was afraid he'd rip it apart when he tried to stretch it. The guy's a beast, and if you'd ever seen him power open a box of cereal, you'd know exactly what I mean. Yeah, he gets the cereal out into his bowl (and onto the counters and across the floor), but after he's opened the box it's no good for anything anymore. The cereal has to spend the rest of its life slumped over in a sad little plastic bag, sitting at the back of the cupboard, deprived of its rightful home.
"I'll do it," I said firmly and studied the lacy underwear in my hands while Force looked disappointed.
And offended.
"Don't screw this up," he warned in a deep growl.
I sent him a haughty look while giving the task some thought. What I was trying to do wasn't trivial. If I screwed it up, it would mean the end of our bid for freedom. I had to get it right and I'd only get one chance. I had to make sure the bags of sawdust didn't fall out on their flight across the room. That meant that I needed something to bind the cups together. With a jerk, I ripped off the straps.
Chaos gasped.
I assumed it was involuntary. Just the same, I shot a questioning look at his face.
"Sorry," he muttered. "It's just that…"
He didn't finish but I got the impression that the destruction of Torrie's underwear was just about killing him. I shot him a sympathetic look.
Folding the bra in half, I tied the cups together with the straps so the plastic bags of sawdust were secure and wouldn't fall out. As I worked, I talked. I told the pack about Agent Moreno and the delivery from Simpson—the identification papers he'd be bringing the next day.
"Are…are you serious?" Dare asked as his gaze locked on Mim on the other side of the room.
"Aye," I answered quietly, and watched Torrie's face light up. "Tomorrow we'll all have ID…assuming we're still alive."
"We'll be alive," Victor said with a determined smile. "Are you ready?"
"Ready," I confirmed as I pulled the bra taut, stepped up to the bars, and let it fly. While everyone held their breaths, the pretty pink brassiere lifted into the air, floated across the room…then flopped to the ground just past the picnic tables and landed well short of the girls' cage.
"You should have let me do it," Force muttered.
But what was done, was done. And Force's crying over spilled milk wasn't helping anybody. On the other side of the room, Camie had the right idea. She dropped to the floor and rolled onto her side. Slipping her arm through the bars, she stretched for the bra. But her fingers weren't quite long enough. "I can't reach it," she panted.
Standing at the bars on my side of the room, I considered Camie's arm before my gaze drifted a few feet to Whitney's legs. Carefully, I slanted a look at Defiance, hoping he would come up with the solution I had already hit upon but was keeping to myself. I knew he'd be mad if I were to suggest it.
But Defiance is so slow sometimes. I don't know what he uses his brain for. A counterweight maybe? Or packing to keep his ears properly spaced? Because he sure as heck doesn't use it for thinking. I've seen cup holders put to better use. For several seconds, I waited for a glimmer of intelligent life. But in the end, I got no help from my cousin. So, I stepped several paces away from where he stood and cleared my throat.
"Perhaps Whitney," I suggested.
"Perhaps Whitney what?" Defiance growled, his gaze snapping to my face.
"Well, I hate to be the one to point it out. But there's something in the cell over there that's longer than Camie's arms."
Defiance stalked toward me. "And what would that be?"
The closer he got, the more reluctant I was to share my idea. It's funny how intimidation works that way. Scuffing my heels on the rock floor, I backed away from Defiance at the same rate that he advanced. But I soon ran out of backup space. Pretty soon we were nose to nose and my spine was pressed against the cold stone wall.
"What would that be?" Defiance growled from a foot away.
Force shattered the tension with a deep laugh. "Camie's legs?" he suggested.
He was right, of course. Camie's legs were longer than her arms. But I cleared my throat again and eyed Defiance cautiously. "Well, actually, Whitney's legs are longer."
Now I had two cousins annoyed with me.
"And how would you know that?" Force demanded.
"I just know," I said stubbornly. "I'm a…keen observer of…"
"Girls' legs?" Elaina suggested.
"Exactly," I said, shooting her a grin.
And it turned out I was right. Whitney's legs were longer than Camie's by about an inch. But Defiance made all of the guys face the back wall as his girlfriend hitched her dress to the top of her thighs and retrieved the bra with her toes. Normally, I would have hated to miss something like that. But that was the old Havoc. The new Havoc seemed to understand the concept of jealousy. I would no more have wanted Defiance to see Sophie's legs than he wanted me to see Whitney's.
"Nicely done," I told her.
Whitney's cheeks were pink but she seemed pleased with herself. "Thanks," she said, and handed the bundle of pink lace to Lorissa.
The atmosphere in the room changed, charged with anticipation…and hope. My brothers and cousins ranged themselves along the bars on either side of me. We stood there holding our breaths while Lorissa turned out the cups. She gave one of the bags of sawdust to MacKenzie and kept the other.
"Okay, Lissa," Courage murmured and tipped his head toward her. "Knock that door off its hinges."
Her gaze flicked to the wall beside the kitchen. "Why don't I just summon the keys?" she suggested.
"Because, if this doesn't work and the harpies recapture us, we don't want to be back in these cages," Courage told her.
Silently, she nodded. "Okay, everyone stand back," she warned, looking around her at the pack lasses.
When the girls had moved to the back wall, the slender redhead took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. A fine tremor shook the ground beneath our feet but the door remained intact. Before I could register disappointment, however, the entire wall of steel bars blasted outward, landing on the picnic tables with an explosion of noise.
"Wow," Dare muttered at my side while a light rain of gravel fell from the rock over our heads.
"Wow," I agreed, and slanted a look at my cousin, Courage. "What's she like when she's angry?" I teased.
"I wouldn't want to find out," Courage snickered, shaking the rock dust from his hair.
Then Lorissa closed her eyes again and did the same to the steel bars of our cage. Seconds later, the guys were climbing over the wreckage in the middle of the room to reach the girls. The reunion was very touching…and I don't know how long it would have gone on if I hadn't been there to remind everyone we had to get moving.
"Brutschka could get back at any minute," I pointed out. "And the rest of the harpies won't be far behind."
"Right," Victor barked, separating himself from Samantha with difficulty. "Let's go!"
Hurrying down the corridor on our way out of the bunker, we raided the side rooms. Reason and Chaos were happy to be reunited with their knives. The rest of the weapons we found weren't ideal for fighting harpies but we figured we could make them work and everyone ended up with some sort of blade or spear. I settled for a machete. Force found a double-bladed axe clearly meant for severing body parts that suited him perfectly, while Victor hefted an evil-looking scimitar and Dare settled for a long trident topped with three razor-sharp spikes.
The trident alone was enough to suggest that Rafe was one sick bastard. But there were more dark tools that demonstrated the depth of Rafe's twisted psyche. Each room included a carpenter's hammer with a heavy head that had been reshaped on a grinding wheel. All of the hammers were clearly meant to exact as much pain as possible. But we figured they might be useful against harpies, so most of us tucked one of the carpenter's tools into ou
r belts.
Inside the garage bay, we swept past a long black limousine. It hadn't been parked there when I'd first arrived so I figured Rafe must have driven it to the quarry. It looked like he hadn't often used the wings he'd inherited from his "mongrel" mother, preferring to rely on modern transportation. From my point of view, it was just too bad his modern transportation hadn't gotten him there a little later.
It would have saved us a lot of trouble.
When we got outside, we were almost too late. Valor and Chaos could see the harpies winging their way over the horizon…though they were quite invisible to the rest of us due to our lack of night vision. My family tore off their shirts and we opened our wings.
"Ready Lorissa?" I murmured. After seeing what she could do to steel bars imbedded in rock, I had great expectations. I reckoned the wicked little witch could take out the entire gang in one fell swoop.
But Courage's lass looked troubled. "The thing is," she started hesitantly, "I'm not especially good at killing things. I found that out back at the house when the harpies attacked."
"That's not a bad quality," Courage reassured her with an arm around her shoulders.
"I was only able to bring down two of them and…it wasn't easy. It was a struggle. It might be different if one of them were actually physically attacking Courage or someone else in the pack…" she said, her voice trailing away. "But…I don't think you should count on me to bring down the whole pack of harpies."
"Gang," I corrected her swiftly. "Gargoyles travel in packs. Harpies travel in gangs."
"Well, I just don't think you should count on me," she repeated.
I shared a look with Courage and gripped my machete more firmly in my hand. "I guess we'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way," I said with a grim smile.
"Right," Courage answered, his shoulders squaring.
"Let's take the battle to the harpies," Victor yelled down the line. "Lorissa can pick off whatever she can from here. Reason and Courage stay behind with the girls. Mac and Torrie are the last line of defense."
"Wait," Chaos shouted. "Something's wrong."
"What?" I demanded. A foreboding sense of dread gripped my spine. "What's wrong?"
"They have hostages," Valor called out.
Hostages! My blood ran cold at the idea. I squinted up into the sky, my stomach lurching as the gang took shape in the darkness. One of the harpies was carrying a man in her clutches. Naturally, any normal human looks small next to a harpy. But this man looked insanely small. "Agent Moreno," I muttered, wondering how the hell the harpies had gotten a hold of him.
But there was more bad news.
Worse news.
The silvery moonlight glinted faintly on something at the opposite side of the airborne monsters. My gaze whipped in that direction. My heart stopped, then started up again painfully. A wave of terror slammed into me and prickled across my skin.
A girl was dangling from Retschka's taloned feet, the moonlight reflected on the shiny fabric of her dress as she twisted in the air.
It was Sophie.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"They have Sophie!" I roared.
I was the first gargoyle into the air, screaming through the dark sky with one single, driving intent. Reach Sophie. Protect her. Save her.
But harpies have keen eyesight. And if we could see them, they could certainly see us, some of us lifting from the ground to meet them while Reason and Courage stayed behind at the bunker with the girls.
They saw me coming.
And as I watched in growing horror, Retschka opened her talons and dropped Sophie. Agent Moreno fell at the same time but I was hardly aware of that fact. One of the others would have to try to help him because my complete focus was on Sophie. And she was falling. Angling my wings, I streaked toward the girl, knowing that—even at my best speed—I'd never reach her in time.
Time expanded and set a pace that was surreal. Normally, it plods along without change. But as Sophie fell, it slowed to a crawl, as if to make sure I didn't miss any of the wrenching details that followed. The wind brushed roughly against my cheek. Ripples formed on the surface of the lake. Leaves rustled in the branches of the trees that lined the edge of the quarry. I watched in despair as Sophie's fall unfolded in slow motion—her hair floating out around her shoulders, her hands reaching and finding nothing, the hem of her dress fluttering as she plunged earthward, her head rotating slowly toward the quarry floor.
But before I could scream out in anguish, a harpy at the back of the gang dropped out of formation—a harpy dressed in long breeks and linen jerkin. I held my breath and dared to hope.
Swooping downward, Mitch reached the girl an instant before she hit the rocky ground, cradling her fall. Seconds later, the young harpy landed with Sophie in her arms, and stood her on her feet. At that point, the harpies figured out whose side Mitch was on. Wheeling across the sky, they changed direction and swarmed the two females like a cloud of giant, murderous gnats. If they had their way, Mitch wasn't going to live. And Mitch was the only thing standing between Sophie and the gang of harpies.
I saw moonlight flash on Mitch's blade and realized why she carried a knife. It was meant to be used against her own kind. Like the blades we had brought with us from the thirteenth century, Mitch's knife was the perfect tool to slide between a harpy's protective armor and pierce deeply. With the clumsy machete clutched in my fist, I poured on the speed, desperate to help Mitch and save Sophie.
As I flashed through the air, a harpy appeared on my right, careering toward me. It was Brutschka, returning from some other part of the quarry where she had dumped Hitschka's body. Gritting my teeth, I held my course. I didn't have time for a detour. I'd have to try to get around the monster and maybe cripple her as I went by. Not a great plan, but the only one I could come up with on short notice.
Jaw clenched, I turned my long blade toward Brutschka as she barreled down on me. But just before we crashed together, the harpy fell out of the sky. Her evil eyes went blank and she turned to lifeless stone as she fell to the ground.
"Thank you, Lorissa," I muttered and reached out with my wings, pushing the air behind me with all the strength I could command as I sped toward Sophie.
Just before I reached the dark tangle of harpies on the ground, Dare shot past me with his black Tyvek wings, passing on my right like I was standing still. I could have cried. And I would have sold my soul to possess the speed of the wings Mim had sewn together with the magic of modern technology.
I watched as Dare closed his wings and slammed into the pack of bloodthirsty hags. The impact sent the harpies scattering as Sophie and Mitch were briefly separated from the deadly scrum taking place on the ground. Silently thanking my brother, I closed my wings and plunged into the center of the fight. I yanked Sophie behind me, backing her against Mitch as I attacked a harpy, thrusting my long blade at the plate that covered her heart and swearing when the edge failed to bite. Off on my left, I saw Dare slash at a harpy's face with his trident as he fought his way toward us through the ugly storm of grasping arms and slashing talons. When he reached Mitch and me, the three of us formed a triangle of protection around Sophie.
I fought the clawing hands that reached for me, my machete flying wherever there was an opening, taking out an eye almost by luck, plunging deep into a screeching mouth, sliding along a rocky plate and finding the edge of a harpy's armor where the awkward blade could find blood. And all the time I was wishing for my proper harpy-killing blade lying on the desk in my bedroom at home.
The clanging noise of metal against rock and the screech of harpies rose in a clamor of sound as we fought the harpies. In the midst of that deadly tumult, Sophie's hand pressed against my back and I felt Rafe's ugly hammer slide from my belt. Then Sophie was crouching behind me. A harpy howled in my ear as Sophie's hammer connected with the monster's rocky toes. And when the harpy threw back her head and screamed at the sky, I used the opportunity to hack a hole in its neck.
"Keep
it up," I shouted at Sophie, and kept chopping at the monster's neck until my foe went down.
The deadly circle of harpies was crushing in on us when Valor got there with my cousins. They tore harpies from the edges of the fray and took on the monsters in hand-to-hand combat. Force's fierce battle cry rang like a death knell as he swung his ax. Like a reaper's scythe, it mowed down the monsters that stood in his way. Any that survived Force's bloody attack faced Victor's lethal scimitar.
For a while, we were holding our own. But there were too many harpies and their armored hide protected them from anything but the most fatal blow. As gargoyles, we had only speed and agility on our side. And there wasn't much room for either trait as the harpies closed around us. We were fighting a losing battle. And that must have been obvious to the others back at the bunker because Courage brought Lorissa over in his arms. He hovered in the air above the fight while Lorissa picked off the harpies one by one wherever they threatened one of our lives.
The harpies' death cries mingled with Force's battle hymn as the clashing circle of violence grew smaller…until only Retschka was left. The huge Gangboss clung to Mitch like a life-sucking leech so you could hardly tell one from the other and Lorissa didn't dare send a killing spell at her. My long clumsy machete was virtually useless at such close range though I never gave up trying. The long piece of metal clanged against the Gangboss's thick hide over and over again. But while blood spurted from several wounds on the large harpy's body, the monster would not die. Retschka clawed at Mitch's armor, ripping pieces away and flinging the bloody plates behind her.
Again, I lunged for Retschka and finally separated her from the younger harpy. The Gangboss screamed in fury as another bloody plate of armor fell from her grip. She shot a final look of hatred at me as she crouched and flung herself upward, escaping to the air.
Havoc Page 15
