“Do anything and the spriggan’s next or perhaps the cardinal. I could make his death so…” She wavered on her feet and her expression of triumph faded. My chest pounded as she took a step back and doubled over. The flask fell from her hand and I lunged for it over Iris’s body. I landed on my belly, hands outstretched. The flask fell into them and a bit of the tea splashed my face. I turned it upright before I lost anymore and watched as horen jerked and hit the wall. She rammed against it again and again. Her lips were drawn back in a fierce scream. Then under her skin began a bubbling like she was getting the millipede mumps really fast.
I crawled backwards over Iris and checked her pulse. Slower. The horen came forward, screaming at me. The lumps were now waves under her skin. They looked like they were pressing in on her, crushing her from the inside.
Just die already.
And she did. She straightened out like one of Dad’s best boards and fell over onto her face, twitched once and then lay still.
Victory wiggled out of my collar and leapt over Iris’s body in one bound, landing on the horen’s crunchy, blackened hair. He jumped up and down a couple of times, then pumped his fist and declared, “I am Victory!”
“And I’m Matilda.” I jumped over Iris and flipped over the horen. Victory landed on my arm and began giving instructions, which I was happy not to hear. I pulled the horen’s robes up, exposing her arm.
“I have to cut it off and get it to the kitchen, but I don’t have a sword,” I said.
Victory jumped on the dead horen’s nose. “I will do it.”
“What are you planning to do? Gnaw through her arm?”
“Slow but effective.”
“We don’t have time to be slow. Your mother is dying.”
“I will her to live.”
“Whatever,” I said. “You stay here with Iris and I’ll get a knife from the kitchen.”
He ignored me and ran past me to the edge of the entrance. He must’ve been yelling and a second later a green dragon flew up. Ovid eyed Victory and then took off. He came right back clutching a screaming fairy in his talons. He dropped the portly guard next to Iris and flew away.
Herman screamed in German so fast, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had a sword. I ran at him and disarmed him before he could blink.
“Mattie, what are you doing?” Herman asked. “Give that back. We’re being overrun by phalanx and French brown wings. I don’t have—”
I spun back around, cutting off his tirade, and ran back to the horen. I raised the sword and severed the arm. It sliced away easily. Herman grabbed my sword. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I gave him his weapon and picked up the arm.
He yelped and jumped backwards. “You killed her. I…I have to arrest you in the name of Her Majesty—”
“She’s already dead,” I said, examining the arm. Something wasn’t right. I remembered rather well the horen arm that had been attached to my ankle and this one didn’t look the same. The other arm had stayed plump and alive-looking. Its claws flexed and dug into my ankle at the slightest provocation. This horen’s arm was, well, dead. Its claws were limp and didn’t react to my prodding. The blood that dripped from the severed end wasn’t golden, but a dark amber color.
I sniffed it and had to stifle a sob. It was rotting already. I couldn’t make the horen antidote out of that thing. My tea had killed her, but had also rendered her body parts useless.
Herman stared down at the body. “Is that…is that a horen?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know what to do.
“Who killed it?”
“I did obviously.”
Victory leapt onto my hand. “Mine is the brilliant mind behind the plan.”
“Fine, you did it,” I said.
“Excellent. I am Victory!”
Herman leaned forward. “Is that a phalanx?” He pointed his sword at Victory. “It is. Quick. Grab it.”
I knocked the sword aside and went to Iris, kneeling by her side. I had to have a piece of a horen for her to survive. Where was I going to do that? I felt her pulse. She was fading. I had to think. I needed more time. The horen said we. There was another horen. I just had to find it.
Aoife flew in and landed next to Iris’s head. “Mattie, we’re under attack. Where’s the cardinal? Oh dear Lord! What’s happened here? Iris, my dear girl, what in the world?” She dropped to her knees and a poof of green glitter enveloped us for a second.
“The horen got her,” I said. “I killed the horen.”
Victory jumped up and down on my hand. “We agreed. I killed the horen.”
Aoife blinked at him and then looked at the horen. “You killed a horen. But that’s not possible.”
“It is,” I said. “My tea killed her.”
“You killed a horen with tea? That’s crazy.”
“I agree,” I said, holding out my hand. “Victory, call one of your dragons and find the other horen. Subdue it and send someone back here for me.”
Victory surprised me by saluting. Then he ran to the ledge and leapt off. Ovid swooped by and snatched him out of the air with his tail and placed the tiny phalanx on his head, where he rode away positioned like a surfer.
“That baby phalanx is on our side?” asked Aoife.
“Big time.”
“But they support the revolution.” She jumped to her feet, letting off a ton of glitter. “They’re coming.”
Herman drew his sword. “What?”
“Those weird gargoyles. They must be on the side of the horen.”
With that dozens of gargoyles climbed into the entrance on all sides, including upside down. Aoife screamed and Herman raised his sword to strike.
“Stop. They’re with me.” And they were with Iris, too. It was her that they focused on, creeping closer and glowing more than ever. They were good, despite their appearance. Only the inside mattered. The inside. That’s what killed the horen. She drank the cardinal’s goodness in a matter of speaking and it killed her because of what she was inside. But Iris was goodness. It wouldn’t kill her. I checked her wounds. As I feared, the sickly yellow poison of the horen was spreading up her torso. The horen was right. She didn’t have much time. Neither did the cardinal. I closed my eyes.
Please. Please. Please be right.
I poured some of the cardinal’s tea down her throat and she shivered. I put the flask back in its carrier.
“That’s not tea,” she said.
I scooped up Iris and struggled to my feet. I ran past Aoife and Herman yelling, “Come on!”
It took forever to get to the cardinal’s apartment. Iris was pretty heavy and I had to stop to catch my breath twice. When I got to the door I found it bolted.
Aoife and Herman ran up.
“Herman! Break it down.”
“That’s the cardinal’s door. I’m not doing that. I’ll lose my place.”
“You’re worthless.” I concentrated on the wood and it burst into flames, incinerating the door in fifteen long seconds, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I turned around and backed quickly through the wall of flame into the cardinal’s apartment. When I turned around I found the master secretary standing at the foot of the cardinal’s bed, holding a dictionary and looking ready to clobber me with it.
“Put that down,” I said, going past him and laying Iris on the bed next to the now unconscious cardinal.
He dropped it on the floor. “You just walked through fire.”
“I know.”
“Where’s the horen?”
“Dead.” I pulled out the flask and gave it to him. “Pour this down his throat.”
“What is it?”
“Just do it!” I screamed and he tipped up the flask, pouring a generous amount down the cardinal’s throat.
Nothing happened.
“What are you waiting for?” asked the master secretary.
The cardinal coughed, deep hacking heaves of breath, a
nd opened his eyes.
“That.” I pulled back the ripped part of Iris’s dress and found the punctures the same. So was the yellow. It hadn’t spread anymore. That was good. But it hadn’t gotten any better either. I had to get a piece of horen ASAP.
“Put the ring on her finger,” said the master secretary.
I felt in my pocket and the cardinal’s heavy ring was still there. “Will it save her?”
“Was it the horen that did that?”
“Yes.”
“Then no. But it may make her more comfortable until the end.”
I slipped the big ring on my little sister’s finger. She stirred for the first time, sucking in a big breath. I checked her side. The same as before.
“I have to get a piece of horen,” I said.
The master secretary drew back. “What?”
“I can make an antidote, but I need a fresh piece of horen to do it.”
He shook his head. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I have to cut off a piece of a horen while they’re still alive.”
“You can’t. That’s an abomination. It’s like harvesting part of a living being.”
“What? You don’t mind my killing one, but cutting off an arm, that’s going too far?” I looked at the door the flames had receded to a ring around the door frame. Herman and Aoife were peering in. To my astonishment through those flames came my gargoyles, hissing their way right through without a single boil to show for it.
The master secretary backed away grabbing the cardinal’s Bible off his bedside table and looking like he was ready to use it, ‘wrath of God’ style.
“Don’t worry they’re mine,” I said.
“Yours?”
I extended my wings and said, “Renodo illuminata.”
There was a sizzle through my wings and the room became awash in their luminescent glow.
The master secretary hugged the Bible, not looking reassured at all.
“Come on guys. I need you,” I said.
My gargoyles came in fast and swarmed over the bed like they’d just been waiting for the invite.
The master secretary yelled, “No! No! No!”
“They’re Whipplethorn gargoyles,” I said as my guys settled all over the cardinal and Iris, leaving only their noses visible.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“I’m not exactly sure, but I think it means they work for me.”
“And what does that mean?”
I shrugged. “We’re about to find out.”
“They’re feral,” the master secretary said. “They could kill them.”
“Go ahead and take them off, if you believe that.”
He just stared at me.
“I didn’t think so.” I stroked the nearest gargoyle. He lashed his tail and began purring. What was it with me and reptiles? “Go ahead, guys. Do your thing.”
“What’s their thing?”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know. Just stay here and keep giving them the tea.”
The master secretary got in front of me. “You can’t leave. The room’s on fire.”
I snapped my fingers and the flames vanished along with the smoke. That was new. I ran through the ruined doorway and pointed at Herman. “You guard the door. Aoife, I need a big cauldron and something to stir, and Grandma Vi’s medical bag. Ask my Aunt Penny. She’ll know.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To commit an abomination,” I said.
“What abom—”
I ran away down the hall, cutting her off. It didn’t matter what anyone said. I’d boil up a horen’s head to save my sister and I’d be happy to do it.
Chapter Thirty-two
I LEAPT OUT of the servants’ entrance, snapping open my wings, only to discover that Victory hadn’t gotten very far. The worst ickiest feeling came over me as I hovered. The nave was packed with humans arriving for evening vespers. Hopping from head-to-head were the French phalanx slashing at the dragons with their shells. There were flashes of color in the humans’ hair, but I couldn’t tell what they were. I scanned for Victory and found him still on Ovid’s head. The dragon was hovering and grappling with another dragon, a red one that I didn’t recognize. There were definitely more dragons than before. Sluagh ran out from under a pew and engaged the cardinal’s guard, driving them back easily. The one thing I didn’t see was a horen.
A sharp pain coursed through my head, putting me into a downward spin. I corrected and flew back up. Smiling at me with great jagged teeth from Anton Pilgram’s hat was an Icelandic Flutterflange sea serpent.
“Remember me,” it said, slinging its hindquarters out and lashing its tail in the direction of my face. It missed by a good inch. “Our time has come.”
“Of course. The idiot from the fountain in Paris.” I threw a fireball the size of gum ball at him. He screamed and jumped off the hat. My fireball followed. Good fireball.
“Welcome to Vienna!” I yelled after him.
I turned back to the fighters. Victory and Ovid had driven their opponent backward into a pillar on the organ case. They hadn’t had time to find the horen.
“Percy! Penelope!” I yelled.
I didn’t see Penelope, but Percy came swooping down from the ceiling. He whipped by, claws extended and snatched a poisonous blue sea serpent off a man’s snow-encrusted driving cap. He tore it in half and flung the bits into the crowd. The hind end went splat against a woman’s cheek. She reached up and wiped it off, looking at her hand, seeing nothing. That’s what the colors were. Eww. Sea serpents were hissing and climbing through curls and over bald pates. Another flutterflange leapt off a woman’s teased hairdo toward Ovid’s flank. I threw two fireballs, engulfing him midair. A flash of gold entered my peripheral vision. I turned, but not fast enough. The horen came out of his ball, claws out, and caught me in the left wing, shredding the lower half. It whizzed by and I was knocked into a woman’s ear. I slid down the curve and stopped just above the lobe, gasping in pain. The woman stuck her finger in her ear and knocked me out. I landed on her thickly padded shoulder and had to dig my nails in to keep from sliding off. The woman pointed a camera at the ceiling and rotated as I got my feet under me. When she came full circle, I saw the horen standing with casual elegance on the old lady next to my woman. It was the horen from Paris with his thin face and low heavily-jeweled coronet. He smiled and flicked a blond lock back over his shoulder.
“I see my sister’s plan failed.”
“She failed and then she died.”
His smile faltered and I took the opportunity. I swirled my finger and the horen froze, just like the archduke. The flames were inside him, but he didn’t scream. He shook like a wet dog and sparks erupted out of him, passing harmlessly into the air where they went out.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” he asked.
“It was with your sister.”
“You couldn’t kill her.” He balled up his fists. “It’s a lie!”
“Call her and see what happens,” I said, stalling. I didn’t have a sword and the fire thing wasn’t going to work.
“Fire won’t kill us.”
“I didn’t use fire!”
He launched himself at me. I’d forgotten how fast they were at that. I made a quick fire shield and he bounced off, came out of his ball, and landed on a man standing behind me. I threw the shield, driving the horen back before he had a chance to recover. It went over him like a wet blanket, setting fire to his robes and hair. He screamed and rolled to put it out. I threw fireball after fireball. He leapt off the man to a lovely woman squeezing into a pew with her two small children. I ran to my woman’s other shoulder as she moved away. I tried to spread my wings, but the pain drove me to my knees. I crawled to the edge of her shoulder and leapt onto the back of the pew. My wings couldn’t soften my fall, so I hit it with my full body weight. Pain zinged through every cell in my body. My vision doubled and I threw up.
Horen had dragged himself to the woman’s neck. He turned around. Shock filled his features when he saw me staggering toward him along the back of the pew. Nobody follows a horen.
“I got you. Why don’t you die?” Desperation had replaced the shock.
“That’s just a scratch! You’ll have to do better than that!” I screamed at him and threw another fireball. It caught him on the side of the face and seared the skin before he put it out.
“You can’t kill me!” he screamed.
“I’m not trying to kill you!” I screamed back.
That shook him and he screamed, “I’ll kill the human. Back off.” He put his claws to the mother’s neck. Even at that distance I could see the venom dripping off the needle-sharp tips. I hesitated. A mother with children. But I had to have him. Iris needed that arm.
“Skorpjun!” the horen yelled.
A black dragon with double fins running down its back darted between us.
“Kill her!”
The dragon rotated in my direction, its sides bellowed out, and it let out a huge acid green fireball. I let it envelope me. It felt good, kind of like a warm bath with lots of salts to make your skin feel nice. I hadn’t one of those in forever, so I enjoyed it and when it stopped there was a brief sting of regret.
I opened my eyes and saw the last green flame on my sleeve. I grabbed it and held it up for the horen to see. “Seriously? That was your plan. I’m a kindler. Hello.”
Skorpjun wheeled and went for the horen, who held out his arm to be picked up.
“No!” I screamed.
The horen leered at me as the dragon grabbed him with his tail. He raked his claws along the woman’s neck, leaving slits behind. The woman screamed so loud it left a ringing in my poor ears. And they were away.
“Percy! Percy!” I screamed.
The woman jolted to her feet and knocked me off the pew. My wing wouldn’t go out and I was in freefall and then I wasn’t. I landed with an oomph on a green scaly back. Victory ran up to my face. “Aunt, where is the horen?”
Ovid sailed up above the crowd that was gathering around the still screaming woman and her two children. I couldn’t get my balance.
“Black dragon. Fins,” I managed to get out.
Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four) Page 36
