by Tricia Owens
"They played us good," Christian said hollowly. His expression was haunted. I bet he would never forget what he'd seen in that tank and how he'd influenced the sea life to attack it. "I saw Vagasso leaving after you cleared the room of that blackness, Anne, and he slapped me to the floor like I was a little bitch." His gaze shimmered. "He told me I was just like my father: completely useless and too dumb to live. The demons would have a field day with me, he said. That was why he chose not to kill me."
I rubbed my mouth, afraid I was going to throw up. "I'm going to destroy him, Christian. I promise you."
"You're the only one who can," he agreed, looking nothing like the handsome, carefree guy who'd first entered my shop with Vale's statue.
And that was a problem: his faith in me. My dragon had so far proved to be a huge bust. All I'd succeeded in using it for was to set us on a collision course with the end of the world. I didn't know what the hell I was doing and that was literally going to kill us.
"We need help," I stated. I stabbed a hand through the tangled nest on my head. "Where are all the magickal beings in this city? Why aren't they doing something?"
"Aren't they?"
Vale pointed out past the Strip, where lightning bolts zapped through the sky, colored pinks and oranges like no lightning in nature. I traced them back to two women who were crouched behind a car. With their arms they tried to direct their magickal strikes at dark, four-legged creatures that raced down the street. I couldn't make out what they were, only that they weren't human. Had demons come up through the Rift already? I didn't think so. Something else stalked Las Vegas. Awesome.
I saw the bushy head of a palm tree begin to topple on a screaming crowd but then twist in midair and fall against a building instead. Amidst the tourists running pell-mell on Tropicana Avenue stood an elderly man, fingers pressed to his temples. When the Merlin statue inside the Excalibur sign tumbled out of its perch, heading on a deadly collision course with the cars below, the elderly man jerked. At the last second the Merlin statue went spinning safely to the side, smashing against empty pavement.
Farther north, half a dozen teenagers stood holding hands in front of the New York, New York Casino. They could have been mistaken for a prayer circle except ice radiated out from beneath their feet, crusting over Las Vegas Boulevard and racing alongside the Rift. But despite the thickness of the magick ice, it melted where it drew within a couple of feet of the crack. The heat coming up from below was simply too intense. The ice turned to water and funneled down the street or instantly vaporized when it neared the Rift, sending up great, billowing clouds of steam that created an even spookier atmosphere.
Magickal beings were out there, alright, and they were trying to make a difference. But this was too much for them. It was too much for everyone.
Or was it?
"The seals," I said, wide-eyed. "Vagasso and the Oddsmakers still have to push the nine seals to fail. We need to get to the ones they haven't reached yet and defend them. Maybe that'll be enough to keep the Rift from blowing open completely."
"I'll drive us." Christian hurried to climb behind the wheel while I helped Vale into the backseat. Vale groaned and clenched his jaw. I suspected he'd broken more than a couple of ribs, but we couldn't take the time to tend to his injuries and he would have been angry if I'd tried. Once he was settled, I jumped into the passenger seat.
"Hang on," Christian warned, white-faced. "It's going to be hairy." He tore out of the lot, skillfully dodging the running tourists and falling palm trees.
"Keep away from the edge," I urged as we followed along the seam of the Rift. "It looks like it's as hot as a volcano inside."
Indeed, the street was flooding thanks to the teenagers trying to freeze the Rift and failing. Christian's Audi hydroplaned a couple of times, nearly sending us careening into the cars that people had either abandoned or pulled onto the sidewalks in an effort to gain distance from the Rift.
I braced hands and feet as we narrowly dodged people and vehicles alike while the ground continued to violently shake and the Rift grew wider. It yawned enough to swallow a car whole now, and the light coming from within painted the entire sky above our heads an eerie orange. Sirens and screams filled our ears. Glass continued to fall from the casinos and hotels and neon signs toppled into the street. The gas pipes beneath the Mirage's volcano had burst, sending banana-scented fire spraying into the air.
The southernmost seal, hidden at the bail bonds shop, was inaccessible. The Rift had twisted into the northbound lane and beneath the shop, causing the entire building to collapse into the glowing cavern. It was an awesome sight, like the destruction left in the wake of a tornado. The seal was destroyed for sure. I just prayed that whoever had been inside the building had been able to get out in time.
Christian bounced up over the center divider to circumvent cars and the debris that poured down the street as we continued to the tattoo parlor. I could see the building up ahead and I sat forward hopefully, urging Christian faster.
But as we drew nearer I could see a problem. The tattoo parlor was surrounded by a pack of demonic wolves.
Once upon a time they had been normal—I would argue beautiful—wolf shifters like Lev. But either the alphas had struck some sort of demented deal with Vagasso or this had been inflicted upon them against their will. They were now something not of the Earth. Their soft, thick fur had fallen out, replaced by inky quills tipped with drops of scarlet liquid that I'd bet money was some kind of poison or contagion. It gave their silhouettes a violent, menacing edge, like a nail bomb frozen in mid-explosion. Their snouts had elongated to accommodate the thicket of additional, longer fangs that had burst from their lower jaws. Red eyes glowed with malice and hate from within folds of leathery skin dotted with leaking quill tips.
As Christian approached the shop, the wolves circled the building unceasingly, their enormous, vicious-looking claws raising sparks against the asphalt lot. One wolf rammed the front door of the building with its spiky head. It moved away and another wolf rammed into the door. They were taking turns to bust it in, but magick had reinforced the door. The demonic wolves looked pissed about it.
"Holy crap," I breathed as Christian slowly drove past and red eyes turned to watch us. "Don't stop."
"I won't," he said nervously as we watched the spiky monsters circle the building like swarming sharks while others continued their assault on the door.
"Please let Lev not be one of them," I said softly, thinking not only of my friend, but of Celestina.
I could see more of the wolves now, sparks bursting beneath their claws and illuminating their trail as the black figures raced up the street, no doubt heading for the other seals. This was why Vagasso had wanted them. They were doing his dirty work for him by clearing the way for him to reach the nine seals that had been weakened by the destruction of the capstone.
"I think he tricked them," I said, angered on their behalf.
"If we don't keep the Rift sealed, it won't matter," Vale reminded us soberly.
"Painfully to the point." Christian gunned the Audi up the street, slaloming around a taxi that had been tipped on its side, its front wheels overhanging the edge of the Rift. A demon wolf glanced back at us, bared its hedge of fangs at us, and leaped over a trash can before disappearing into shadows up ahead.
"I'm beginning to think that the odds are getting worse that we can keep this thing closed," Christian muttered. "Forget about what I said about needing to be there at the end, Anne. If I bite the dust I need you to keep going after Vagasso. And...I want you to watch over Melanie if I'm not there to do it. Take care of her." He glanced quickly at me, soberly. "Please."
My throat tightened up. I'd always assumed that he and Melanie were only having fun. That was what they'd both told me, in private and in public. To hear now that they were as serious as Vale and I—I prayed I was strong enough to do what needed to be done.
I crossed my fingers as we headed for The Chapel of Big Dreams. It needed to
not only still be standing, but be accessible. If the demonic wolves had staked out all the seal locations, I didn't know what we would do.
No, check that. I would burn all the wolves that stood in my way...if fire even had an effect on them.
The Audi jerked and Christian cursed as he wrestled with the wheel.
"It's like trying to drive over the back of a dinosaur," he gritted out as café tables bounced violently off the hood.
I could feel the ground moving as we drove, and I could see it reflected in other cars that were trying to navigate the wrecked Strip as they slid across the road, tires streaming smoke.
I stabbed a finger ahead. "There's the chapel!"
"No sign of wolves," Vale said from the backseat, his voice strained with pain. The rough ride couldn't be helping matters but he was like me: he'd stop only when he no longer breathed.
"That's just part of our problem," I said as I bounced in my seat, wordlessly urging Christian to drive faster. "We don't know if we're even capable of defending the seal. So far our track record is pretty lame."
"We have to try," Vale declared firmly.
Christian's car bounced over metals chairs and a red umbrella that must have floated over from an outdoor café. The sounds coming from beneath the car made me cringe and hope the vehicle lasted long enough to get us where we needed to be. I wouldn't be surprised if all four wheels came off and the engine exploded soon.
A wave of water burst over an upended taxi in a huge spray that hit our windshield so violently it was a miracle the glass didn't shatter.
"Jesus," Christian said as the water pushed us into a skid, "Jesus." Muscles strained in his shoulders and arms as he fought for control.
Luck was finally with us. Up ahead, the Rift tapered to a stop. It was only temporary, for the ground broke open again forty yards farther ahead where it once again yawned wide, eating nearly two entire southbound lanes. But that break in the Rift allowed us to cross over it to the other side of the street. Christian carefully navigated around the end of the crack and up onto the sidewalk in the hopes it would keep the car in place.
When we jumped out, I was struck by the tension in the air. It reminded me of the air around power lines, that taut feeling that something was about to snap or explode. It was incredibly noisy with the sounds of buildings falling apart, car alarms blaring, and sirens screaming. Two helicopters added to the cacophony as they panned their spotlights over the destruction.
But we hadn't even reached the peak of awfulness. The Rift was open, but so far only eerie light and heat came out of it. Soon, those beings traveling up from Hell would reach the surface, and then life as I knew it would end in the most horrific manner possible. Shivering, I raced for the door of The Chapel of Big Dreams.
I never made it.
A demonic wolf leaped between me and the door. Its spikes flared as if preparing to shoot red liquid at me. It looked like a spiky anemone on legs, but so much worse. Its gnashing, mutilated fangs raised gooseflesh all over my body. There was nothing but pure hatred in its glowing red eyes. And yet...something felt familiar, the way its spikes dripped from its jaw, maybe. Somehow I knew: this was the new alpha of the Black Die pack, the bad attitude one with the mustache and goatee. He'd gained control of the pack and this had become his fate, a creature that was demon possessed.
It leaped at me and I fell back, simultaneously reaching for my dragon. Before I could, something white and as large as a buffalo rammed into the demonic wolf, sending it hurtling into the street. Sorcery, purple and misty, swarmed over the fallen wolf and in mere seconds pulped it into a black ball the size of an orange.
"My god." I whirled to face the white attacker and yelled out in shock at what I saw.
It was a creature I'd never seen or heard of. It possessed four legs and a white body that resembled a powerful lion's. Sprouting from the top of the body were two long, llama-like necks, and attached to each was a head: one vaguely feline with enormous green eyes, the other dark-skinned and with human features. Both were hairless.
You failed, defender of the seals.
"Azima!" I gasped at the feline head.
"A dragon sealed this Rift," said the other, human head, which was vaguely male and vaguely resembled the street hustler, though his voice sounded different, neutral and sort of vacuous, as though a mannequin were speaking. "We thought we could trust you. A dragon should not have re-opened it."
"I didn't mean to! I had no idea!"
The damage is done, and this world shall end.
I staggered, feeling faint.
"Something can be done," Vale insisted from behind me. "Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered to save her."
The two heads looked at each other, as if exchanging silent communication.
"The Geminix can be formed," the hustler head said, blandly, as though it didn't care either way. Except I knew that it did care. Vale was right about that. There remained some chance of fixing this, however slim.
"What's the Geminix?" I asked urgently.
As the capstone seal was formed once by a dragon, so may it be formed again by a dragon. But it must be a pure twin. No other substitution will suffice.
"A pure twin?" I felt concussed. Everything this creature said was a struggle for me to understand. "Is that like, an exact duplicate? Is that what you mean?"
The Geminix, once formed, will re-energize the seals and close the Rift. But time is running short. The soldiers of the dark are rising to the gate.
"Those soldiers didn't get the memo and are wasting their time," I declared. "We're forming this Geminix thing. Just tell me how. What do we use to make it?"
"The dragon holds the knowledge. You must—"
A huge fist emerged from the darkness and smashed the Azima-hustler creature into the pavement. I couldn't scream. I couldn't back away. I could only stare as a literal giant took two thunderous steps forward and pounded the white creature again, completely pulverizing it and cutting off Azima's bleat of pain.
Shock and horror left me dumb. It was like my brain had checked out. I stared, agape, as I turned to face the giant. It was an amalgam of troll and rhino, a fifty-foot tall wall of angry muscle, towering over all of us. And it wasn't alone.
"There will be no closing this delightful gift now that you've opened it," Vagasso said from behind the giant. He stood with Dr. Morrow in the giant's shadow. His smile was gentle, comforting. "Stop fighting, Anne. Your war is now over."
I didn't waste time exchanging quips with this asshole. First things first. I jumped into my dragon so I could deal with the giant gray killer of Azima and the hustler. I flew a circle around the giant, inciting it to roar and swat at me. Its reactions were surprisingly swift for such a large creature. Each time it swung at me, it created a wind powerful enough to rock me and force me to correct my balance.
To counter, I spat fire at its back. The giant roared as the flames crawled up its shoulders. It swung blindly at me, trying to knock me out of the sky. I circled again, spitting sporadic bolts of fire like flaming bullets. Enraged, the giant flailed at me with both arms. I just barely avoided a large fist that would have knocked me to the ground and ended this fight for good. I dipped and flew low, just above the pavement. There, I hovered, catching my breath.
The giant took advantage of my pause and punched at me. I darted away—just in time for the giant's follow-through to smash into Dr. Morrow...whom I'd deliberately paused in front of.
She didn't stand a chance. Being punched by the giant was like being struck by a car. Her body flew through the air and hit a building thirty feet away. I heard the crunch of her bones breaking but I didn't feel a moment's remorse. That's for Pauline and the others you hurt, Dr. Morrow.
With her taken care of, I stopped playing around and flew up to the giant's head. I wrapped my tail around its face, hooking behind one ear for a good grip. It roared in fury but all it took was a powerful wrench and I snapped the monster's neck. Like a Redwood, the giant fell silently, almost g
racefully, onto the roof of the chapel. It crushed the building as though it had been made of Styrofoam and toothpicks.
Neither Vagasso nor I would be able to access the seal now. But I wasn't able to celebrate that victory for long. Christian shouted a warning. I snapped my head around just in time to see Vagasso transforming.
Since the moment he'd been rejected by the wards at Tomes, I'd questioned what kind of dark spirit Vagasso might be. I still didn't know—the possibilities for demonic and black magick creations were too numerous and varied—but what I saw now told me enough: Vagasso was a monster in every sense of the word.
The tattooed curses on his scalp had begun to glow as though they were lit by yellow neon. Winding black tendrils of supernatural smoke seeped from his feet and curled up around him, obscuring his body and allowing mere glimpses of the glowing curses on his head. The smoke expanded outwards. I zoomed quickly around it, trying to create a wind to whip the smoke away. But as it was sorcerous, the blackness didn't move. Instead, it dissolved on its own...revealing a monster that was half-man and half-scorpion.
Vagasso's monster wasn't comparable to a centaur, which sported a transition from man to horse that was clean and sleek, like two species carefully sewn together. Vagasso's man and scorpion had mashed together and then the scorpion blood had tried to absorb the man. To me, that was how he looked: like a man being violently absorbed by an arachnid. Shiny black plates bit into his abdomen and chest, turning the edges of his skin red and pus-swollen. Black bristles stabbed through the skin of his forearms, and his fingers had fused together in an unsuccessful attempt to form working pincers; they were simply mutilated. The skin of his face was mottled black, as though rot were eating away at it, and more bristles spiked out from his temples and down the side of his jaw.
He looked angry, and in pain. He deserved it.
But maybe none of that mattered when he had that enormous stinger at the end of his tail. The nasty-looking telson at the end was the size of a football, and boasted a stinger as long as my middle finger. You could be all sorts of ugly when you had a weapon like that.
