Chapter 23 Jackson #4
Reaching forward, I attempted to scoop her up, but Enzo shoved me aside, almost making me fall, and did it himself.
He hauled her out with less care than I would give a sack of groceries, banging her head on the trunk lid.
A yelp emerged from the bundle, followed by the quiet sobs of a hurt little girl.
Seething with rage, I clenched my fists and followed him.
In his arms, the bundle continued to writhe, but with very little actual force to it, as if she’d simply given up and accepted her fate. Enzo stepped up to Joseph and tilted the bundle toward his boss. Joseph shot me a wary look, then pulled a bit of blanket aside, revealing a few wisps of hair.
“There she is,” Joseph said with obvious pleasure and relish. “All right. All good. Get the fuck outta here. I’ve got my chef making me some pasta ambrógio, and I’m starving.”
Joseph was a few steps away when Enzo spoke up. “Boss, you don’t want to watch the deed?”
Joseph looked at his minion as though he’d asked if he wanted some dog shit smeared on his face.
“If I want to see a little girl get her fuckin’ head blown off, I’ll be the one doing it. If I ain’t doin’ it? I’m not watching it.” Joseph glanced at the other man in human form. “Nicholas, give our friend here the tool he needs.”
Without another word, Joseph turned his back on us and walked to the house.
Fear and worry filled my chest. I stared in mute horror as Nicholas pulled a revolver from the back of his waistband.
With a few quick flicks, he emptied the gun into his palm, then reloaded one bullet, and spun the cylinder until the single bullet was lined up with the barrel.
He turned it and handed it to me, while tucking the five other bullets into his pocket.
While he put on this little show of handing me the gun, Enzo knelt and sat the bundle down on the ground.
Beyond this strange tableau, Joseph passed between two of his shifted drakes, getting closer to the house with every step.
Enzo pulled the first few layers of blankets back at the same time the gun slapped into my right hand.
Reaching back with my left, I rapped my knuckles on the hood of the car—our agreed-upon signal.
The car rocked beneath my hand as Shyanne jumped behind the wheel.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, bitch?” Nicholas barked.
“What the hell?” Enzo shouted, standing up quickly and releasing the final wrapping of the yellow blanket that had covered the bundle.
Joseph turned back at the commotion. On the ground at Enzo’s feet, a girl-shaped hunk of mud and clay writhed.
It twisted faintly, the wig shoved onto its head falling away.
The mewling sounds were louder now that the blankets had been pulled from her face.
The thing on the ground turned its mottled and lumpy face toward Enzo and opened eyes made of quartz crystal.
Christian’s family was Jewish—the non-practicing kind that celebrated Christmas and ate bacon, but Jewish, nonetheless.
They descended from a hundred generations of Jewish wyrm shifters that went back to the ancient Middle East. As I told Shyanne, shifters were magic, and other magic beings existed.
One of the most ancient beings in Jewish folklore was the golem, a creature a wizard, witch, or magician, could create from clay.
It could move, walk, fight, and kill if need be.
That was what lay at Enzo’s feet. A clay golem Christian created to mimic his sister, who lay in the false bottom of the trunk.
A bit of Shyanne’s handiwork that Bryn was able to use to hide, leaving the golem behind in her place.
“What’s going on?” Joseph called.
The next few things happened very fast.
Shyanne turned the car on and slammed it into reverse. Two of the shifted drakes lunged forward, heading for her car. Enzo nudged the golem with his boot, and it rolled, revealing the next surprise I had for these fuckers.
A wad of plastic explosives, the size of a shoebox, was embedded in the torso of the golem. I’d procured it from one of the construction companies we owned.
Enzo, as well as everyone else but Shyanne, turned to look dumbly at the doll and the package attached to its back. Then I tossed the pistol away and rammed that hand into my pocket, retrieving the detonator.
Joseph, too far away to die immediately, spotted my movement, and somehow realized what was going on at the last possible second. He shifted and jumped as far away as his powerful drake legs could propel him.
“Fuck you,” I snarled, glaring at Nicholas as I pressed the button.
From the golem, a single sentence echoed up from the decoy.
“My tummy hurts,” it cried in a voice that was bizarrely similar to Bryn’s.
I leapt to the sky and shifted, pumping my wings hard. Shyanne’s car spun in a one-eighty as she yanked the wheel, and her tires screeched as she rocketed back down the driveway with Bryn in the trunk.
Safe, I thought as I flew higher. They’re gonna—
My thoughts were shattered by the explosion below.
A pressure wave shot up like hurricane-force winds, catching my wings and sending me tumbling through the air.
Managing to right myself before I could fall too far, I hovered in place, flapping my wings to stay aloft.
Below, the fireball from the explosion dissipated, and I could see the damage done by the blast.
Shifters were strong, but not that strong.
Enzo and Nicholas were both just…gone. Vaporized as though they’d never been there to begin with.
One of the shifted drakes writhed on the ground, both front legs gone, and a tear in its dragon stomach, his insides having quickly become his outsides.
He wouldn’t survive that even with shifter healing.
Several of the others were hurt or unconscious, but Joseph was the one who caught my eye.
He stood in his dragon form on the steps of the house, staring wrathful daggers in my direction.
Throwing my head back, I released a shriek of rage, tilted, and dived toward the ground, ready to fight.
Ready to kill. Tonight, I would get my baby sister back, and God help any of these men who stood in my way.