Mortal Danger wotl-2

by Eileen Wilks

  Rule had pushed her, hard, with his nose. He whined and shoved at her again, urgently.

  He thought they were being attacked. Her pulse rate jumped. Maybe the dragon diving at them was relieving the boredom of guard duty by playing scare-the-human. But if he wasn’t…

  They needed to get under something, quick. She jumped down. So did Rule.

  No way could they make it to the cave. She sprinted for the cliff, Rule racing alongside her, Gan huffing a few paces behind. The dragons couldn’t grab them from above if they were up against that wall of rock. She flattened her back against it, her heart pounding, her mouth dry, her brain silly with fear. She didn’t want to look.

  Stupid, she jeered at herself. Think you can close your eyes and the bad dragon will go away ? She made herself look up and caught a glimpse of scarlet near the head of the pursuing dragon. There was only one of their guards with a frill that color, the same crimson as Sam’s.

  It was smaller than the one it chased, she realized. Younger?

  Then the two collided.

  Her breath caught. This was no game, but battle, real and bloody. The two grappled in mid-air, a confusion of flapping wings, snaky necks, and lashing tails. She couldn’t see what was happening, who was winning. Then one broke away—the one who’d pursued, she realized, spotting the scarlet frill. Its wings worked desperately to carry it higher—for one wing was damaged. And pursuer had become pursued.

  The smaller one tried to dodge, but its attacker caught up with it, seizing one great wing and shredding it viciously. The injured dragon fought free, but it was clumsy now, lumbering through the air. Its attacker closed again.

  Slowly at first, then faster, the injured dragon fell, the long body tumbling, tangling with wings that no longer caught air. She caught glimpses of that scarlet frill as it plummeted. Her stomach clenched sickly. It hit up the beach near their cave, and she felt the impact in the soles of her feet.

  The winner circled once, then dove again. Toward them.

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered. Maybe she’d poke a dragon with her big stick, after all.

  “There’s another one!” Gan piped. “Coming from behind the mountains!”

  She squinted, trying to make out details. The sky had darkened enough that it was hard to see the dragons clearly against it, but— “It’s Sam!”

  Then the high, black shape folded his wings tight to his body and dropped, stooping like a giant hawk after a lesser bird. Aimed like an arrow at the dragon who had just killed.

  It must have seen or sensed him, for it twisted, beating its wings frantically—but too late. Seconds later, Sam struck.

  Dragons didn’t all die silently. This one screamed as its back broke, a bass howl that ended in a great splay of blood as Sam slashed its throat open, both of them still dropping.

  That body had little distance to fall. While Sam’s wings beat hard, fighting to keep him from finishing his plummet, his victim made a huge splash some twenty feet from shore.

  Go, that cool mental voice said as his wings prevailed and Sam began to climb. Don’t gawk. Get to the caves your lupus has been so determinedly exploring.

  “What’s happening?” Lily cried.

  The others will be here shortly, in case their tool failed. As it did. Satisfaction coated that thought. I do not tolerate betrayal.

  Rule shoved at Lily. She staggered a few steps, then stopped. “What others? Why are they coming here?”

  Sam was still climbing, but slowly, circling his way up. The Singers. The fools dispute my possession of you. They come to kill you.

  “No!” Gan cried. “They can’t kill her! That would be stupid! They need her!”

  They have finally understood the folly of allowing a sensitive to fall into Xitil’s hands. There will be no more negotiations.

  “But the Singers—you were holding me for them!” Lily said. “They’re your leaders—”

  Not my leaders. I took you and held you because I wished to. They wished to believe it was on their behalf. I allowed this until I learned that they planned to kill you without asking my permission. Go now.

  Rule shoved her, hard. She gave in and started down the beach at a trot, but called, “What changed? Why do the demons want my blood?”

  You will ask questions of Death itself when it stoops for you! Remain underground until I summon you. It may be many sleeps before it is safe to emerge. The Singers will abandon their pique with me soon enough and cease challenging my possession of you. Xitil is coming. She has eaten god-flesh and is quite mad.

  “Oh, no,” Gan whispered. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

  Mad or not, Sam’s chill thoughts continued, growing distant as he rose, she has too much power now to easily defeat. The others will need me.

  Who are you ? Lily thought, stopping at the mouth of the cave in spite of the insistent press of Rule’s body. She knew that once inside, the dragon’s mindspeech would be cut off by the earth. What are you ? Not a Singer…

  Not one of the little Singers, he agreed, the mental voice faint. A Great Singer. Perhaps the last of the Great Singers…

  THIRTY-TWO

  The next day dawned cool and misty. Lily was sweating beneath her leather jacket anyway. Maybe it was the pack on her back, or the weight of the M-16 slung over her shoulder. Or maybe she was freaking, funked-out, bone-deep scared.

  “They’re taking forever,” Cynna muttered, shifting from foot to foot.

  Lily nodded. This was probably when she should say-something heartening, but she was fresh out of heartening.

  She wished Grandmother was here. Sharp and strong that wish rose in her, foolish as it was. Grandmother couldn’t have gone with them. She couldn’t have done anything but wait. But still, Lily wished she was here.

  They’d assembled their odd crew on a low bluff near the ocean forty miles north of the city. It was private property, part of an estate, but the Rho had somehow arranged for them to be allowed on the grounds. Bribery, probably. It was the closest node to Rule—or where Rule would be, if he’d been on Earth.

  Three women and a part-time male stripper held hands in a circle atop the node. Behind each of them stood a tall black candle, unlit. Dead center in the circle was Hannah’s stone altar. It held a silver bowl filled with water.

  Lily hadn’t been offered the names of the other two Rhejes. The youngest one, the Etorri Rhej, was a slim, ordinary-looking woman about Lily’s age, with dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes. Cullen stood between her and the Mondoyo Rhej, a tall black woman with sleepy eyes who looked to be on the high side of forty. She’d arrived a scant few hours ago, having flown in from somewhere in northern Africa. Then there was Hannah—old, fat, sightless, and very much in charge.

  Maiden, Mother, and Crone, Lily thought, looking at the three women. Weird. Hannah had said the Lady’s workings often fell out that way, even when, as now, her human agents didn’t plan it so.

  The air was still and moist with ocean smells. Lily and Cynna waited on the ocean side of the node beneath a twisted oak, its trunk leaning perpetually away from the absent wind. On the other side of the node were twenty armed lupi, as many trained Nokolai as Benedict could call upon this quickly. If something did manage to get through the gate despite Cullen’s precautions, it would be blasted.

  On the other side of the armed lupi, Nettie waited beside a modified SUV that would serve as an ambulance if necessary. With luck, none of them would need Nettie’s services, but Lily wasn’t about to rely on luck.

  Only Lily, Cullen, and Cynna were crossing. The gate would be too small, the power too little, to allow more to pass through. And, of course, they had to take a small enough party that there would be room for one more on their return.

  Max could have come. He was small enough to ride through the gate piggyback, but when they finally tracked him down he’d cursed a lot, told them they were idiots, and kicked them out of the club. Max didn’t deal well with grief, Cullen said. Lily wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a joke
.

  Lily stared at the circle, willing them to hurry. So far, all they’d done was hold hands. All that she could see, anyway.

  “ ‘It is easy to go down into hell,’” Cynna murmured. “ ‘Night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide… ’ Guess old Virgil had that wrong, didn’t he?”

  “What?” Lily’s turned to stare at the taller woman. “Virgil? Uh—is that poetry?”

  Cynna shrugged the shoulder that didn’t hold the strap of an Ml 6. “I like old poetry.”

  For an ex-Dizzy, Cynna knew the oddest things.

  “Mir acculum,” Hannah said suddenly. “A dondredis mir requiem.”

  “A dondredis mir requiem,” the tall black woman repeated. The other woman and Cullen echoed the phrase in turn, then they joined voices in a quiet chant.

  At last something was happening. This first part of the ritual required all four of them—grooming the energy, Cullen called it. The second stage would be up to him, however. That’s when Lily…

  “Is that a taxi cab?” Cynna asked incredulously.

  It was. The cab bumped up the dirt road that led here from the highway, stopping in a flurry of dust where the ruts stopped on the other side of the armed Nokolai. Unable to see clearly past the men, Lily headed that way. Cynna fell into step beside her.

  Cullen and the women continued chanting, oblivious. Just as Lily reached the guards, the back door of the taxi swung open. Four feet of bad-tempered ugly climbed out.

  Cynna stopped. “What is that?”

  “That,” Lily said, feeling her mouth stretch in a wholly unexpected grin, “is what you’ll be carrying through instead of your backpack.”

  Max possessed ugliness the way a few rare souls possess beauty, an ugliness that fascinated. His nose stretched toward his mouth like a cartoon witch’s, as if it had melted, then reformed in mid-drip. He had no hair, not much in the way of chin or lips, and skin the color of mushrooms. He was skinny, with knobby joints and arms too long for his body.

  Today he wore camouflage and army boots. God only knew where he’d gotten the outfit.

  One of the lupi moved to intercept him. Lily gestured at him to let Max through.

  Max was muttering under his breath as he stomped up to Lily. “I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m this stupid. Well?” he demanded, corning to a stop. “What are you staring at?”

  “A very welcome sight,” she said softly. “Max, this is Cynna.”

  The tips of his ears turned red. He scowled and looked Cynna up and down. “Nice boobs. Too big, but they’re shaped good.”

  Cynna shook her head and loosened the straps on her pack. “I hope you’re worth giving up half our supplies.”

  “Lily,” Cullen said.

  She looked over Max’s head at him.

  He stood alone now, holding a silver athame—a ceremonial knife—in one hand. The three women sat in the grass a few feet away, still chanting softly. The candles were burning.

  She took a deep breath and touched the canvas cases hung from her belt that carried extra clips. Show time.

  Lily’s part in the ritual was passive. From this point on she wasn’t to speak, not until she crossed. He would tie the gate to her, as he’d suggested—he’d won that argument— but she need only stand there and let him do it.

  That, and bleed a bit.

  Lily walked over to him and felt nothing—not a trace, not a whisper of magic, though it must be thick in the air. She closed her mind to that loss and held out her left hand.

  He murmured something, the words soft and foreign. Then he took her hand in his, palm up, and ran the blade of his athame across the heel of her palm. It burned. Blood welled up quickly, and Cullen murmured more words. Then he turned her hand palm down and shook it, sprinkling the earth with her blood as he called out one word three times.

  Vertigo seized her, a twisting, scraping otherness that slid inside, settling in her gut and turning her senses crazy. The world spun, and she staggered. Cullen’s arm came around her waist, steadying her.

  Gradually the world steadied, but the sense of otherness remained. She felt as if some bizarre geometry had been planted in her middle and was busily making itself at home.

  She straightened and gave Cullen a nod.

  He stepped back. Using the tip of his bloody knife, he began tracing the doorway that would surround the altar. Light followed the athame like the afterglow from a sparkler as he slit the fabric between the realms, and when he finished the air shimmered. It was like looking through heat waves.

  Lily put a hand on her stomach. The shimmer somehow matched the shifting geometry in her gut. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. She looked over her shoulder.

  At her glance, Cynna bent her knees and Max climbed aboard. She’d have to duck to get through, but they’d fit. Cullen tucked his athame in his belt and slipped on the harness that held the rocket launcher, a huge tube almost as tall as he was. He picked up his machine gun and took his place at the rear.

  They’d go through single-file. Lily gave them all a nod, unslung her M-16, and walked toward the shimmering air. Four paces, duck as she stepped over the alter—and into hell.

  Where a battle already raged.

  * * *

  A small fire smoldered in the center of the rocky chamber Rule had led them to. It was a Swiss-cheese sort of a space, the walls holed in several places, with fissures in the ceiling. Some of the smoke from the fire escaped through those overhead cracks, but the fire still made the room smoky without providing much light.

  Better than no light at all, though. Lily hugged her knees. Thank goodness Gan had been able to bring a load of firewood. She was small enough that she hadn’t had to crawl the way Lily had in the worst of the passages. Things could be worse.

  Who was she kidding? She hated this. Hated it. But not as much as Rule did.

  How had he done it? How had he made himself keep coming back to these tunnels, over and over, hunting a way out? She’d known it took a toll on him, but she hadn’t understood, not really. Not until she followed him into a darkness so heavy it had seemed to press the air from her lungs.

  She had no idea how long it had taken them to reach this chamber, where the air was good and the ceiling was higher than her outstretched hands. Probably not the hours it had seemed. They’d trended more up than down, though. Were they anywhere near the top of the cliff where the dragons gathered to sing?

  Gan spoke suddenly, her voice high and scratchy. “Xitil’s called Earth-Mover, you know.”

  “Does that mean what it sounds like?”

  Gan nodded miserably. “She could bring it all down on us. It’d be easy for her.”

  “Good thing she wants me alive, then.”

  “But she’s nuts,” Gan whispered.

  Rule lifted his head and snarled.

  “I’m pretty sure that means ‘shut up,’” Lily said. “Besides, didn’t you say dragons damped magic or sucked it up or something?”

  “Demon magic, yeah, but Xitil’s got goddess stuff in her now! Who knows what that could do? She might be able to—”

  “Shut up, Gan.”

  The demon swallowed and, for a wonder, fell silent.

  Rule laid his head on his paws again, and Lily went back to passing the time the only way she could, by playing her memory game. Where was she?

  Oh, yeah. Water beds. That had sprung to mind earlier, when she’d been sitting by the ocean. Before things went all to hell.

  Waterbeds sounded wonderful. Imagine a bed filled with water… how soft would that be? You had to pump the water in… Pumps, yes, she remembered pumps. Though the one she saw in her mind’s eye wasn’t for water, but for air. For filling up bicycle tires.

  Had she ridden a bicycle? She felt a touch of excitement. It made sense that she’d remember the kind of pump she knew best, didn’t it? She couldn’t picture a pump for a waterbed at all. Maybe she’d never had a waterbed, but she had owned a bicycle.

  What
kind of bicycle? There were racers and…

  Rule’s head shot up. He almost quivered with sudden tension.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  He got to his feet and paced a few steps, looking at the rock overhead, making a whining sound. He looked at her and then at the rocky ceiling. Then he shook his head hard, as if trying to clear it, and whined softly.

  “What is it? Gan, what does he mean?”

  “Nothing.” Gan looked disgusted. “He’s not making any sense.”

  “Rule?” Scared for more than one reason now, she went to kneel beside him. “Are you all right?”

  He whined again, louder and longer, and then looked at the demon.

  “He wants you to tell me!” she cried. “Try. Try hard.”

  Gan rolled her eyes. “It’s nonsense. Something about you being out there and in here, too.”

  Rule yipped. Then he took her wrist between his teeth gently and tugged as he took a step away.

  He wanted her to come with him. She drew a shaky breath and stood. “All right. Are you coming, Gan?”

  Rule immediately trotted into one of the black, black holes. That one was a little roomier than some, at least. Though it probably wouldn’t stay that way.

  “Follow that idiot? He’s lost it. You’d better stay here.”

  She just shook her head and, heart pounding, followed Rule into the darkness.

  THEY wouldn’t have survived their first five minutes in hell if the terrain where they came out had matched Earth’s. They’d left a flat, low bluff. They came out into low, craggy mountains. Mountains where creatures were busy killing each other, while overhead, legend battled with nightmare.

  “I’m running low on ammo,” Cynna called. “I have to reload.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” Lily said. She was hunkered down behind a rocky outcrop. They had no cover overhead, but the aerial battle was a mile behind them now. Just as well. Not only was it dangerous, it was distracting. She’d never thought dragons existed, and to see them flying, fighting… she’d remember that always. And have nightmares about what they fought.

  If she lived long enough to dream, that is.