Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Everything was too loud, too bright. I was burned out, fried, too much adrenaline surged through me, and for a worried moment, I thought I was going to pass out. I panted. My pulse hammered so fast, my circulatory system was in real danger of bursting out of my body and running away.
“Really?” Cecil snorted, tapping his hooves on the light-up disco floor. “That was unnecessarily dramatic, don’t you think?”
The bear spat, and Striker’s head went flying, trailing blood and gore behind it like some sort of grisly comet. It hit the cabin wall and bounced off, lying still in the dirt.
“Chosen.” Donovan snapped my manacles off as if they were made of plastic.
Maybe they had been. He scooped me up in his arms, holding me close to his chest, and murmured endearments in a foreign tongue.
I nuzzled into him—ignoring the blood and sweat—breathing in his overwhelming river-leather-and-sandalwood scent, too exhausted to even worry about the giant grizzly taking up most of the space in the tiny cabin.
For a few foggy, light-headed moments, I lay in his arms, closed my eyes, and focused on breathing. In and out. In and out.
“Well, I think we’re done here,” Cecil announced. “And unless we want to face the rest of Connor’s Middle World army all by ourselves, we better get the heck out of these woods and back home, lickety-split.”
“We must hurry,” Donovan said, carefully arranging me in his arms and standing upright.
I couldn’t agree more. Except, I didn’t have the energy to form the words to say so.
Donovan carried me out of the cabin, moving swiftly through the massacre outside. Torn limbs and partial torsos, shredded cloaks and severed heads littered the ground. Blood splatter and gore painted the trees. It was so grisly, it seemed unreal.
A horn blew in the distance.
“Oopsie.” Cecil leapt onto the bear’s back. “I think they know we’re here.”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “Two leagues to the west. The shifter army will be tracking our scent. If we cut our tracks running back east, we will lose half of them as we bolt for the portal.”
“We better fucking run then!”
My pulse quickened again. I had nothing left, and Connor’s shifter army was coming.
Donovan ran through the trees like he did everything—swiftly, effortlessly, like a ghost born to stalk the forests.
The bear lumbered beside us, crashing through the undergrowth like a fuzzy out-of-control minivan.
Cecil, his long mane flowing majestically behind him, rode on his back in perfect equestrian posture, occasionally letting out a little whoop of joy whenever the bear had to jump.
Questions. I had so many questions, but they would have to wait.
We weren’t out of the woods yet. Literally.
A horn blew, much louder now; Donovan flinched, but kept running.
The trees thinned, the undergrowth cleared, and suddenly we were sprinting on a spongy surface of pine needles.
The bear was running faster now, a smooth, powerful lope, dodging trees with split second timing.
It was a magnificent sight, one I’d savor later on when we weren’t running from an army of vicious shapeshifters.
Howls rent the air. They’d picked up our trail. Cecil bent low over the bear, who, inexplicably, had suddenly manifested a fancy brown leather saddle. “Faster, noble steed!”
The bear gave a pissed-sounding groan, and, mid-stride, snapped his head around and rumbled something.
“Oh, good grief. Fine. Wait a sec.”
The next time I dared to open my eyes and look, the bear was wearing giant Nikes on his paws, and he was running faster. And Cecil was wearing jodhpurs and a cherry-red riding coat.
A piercing screech came from right above us; a vulture was circling. They’d seen us. They were locked on now, and coming faster.
Donovan’s breath grew ragged. We dashed into a clearing, and up a grassy knoll, sprinting through waist-high grass for a few minutes.
The howls sounded closer. Holding Donovan tighter, I peeked over his shoulder, and saw a ragged pack of animals dash out of the trees in the distance.
Mangy-looking wolves with muzzles pulled back, baring razor-sharp teeth.
Three big cats; one, a leopard, bounding forward on huge claws. A bobcat opened its mouth and screamed.
Connor’s army had found us.
Cecil answered them, “Tallyho!”
The damn duocorn now wore a top hat. He’d spun around in his saddle and was trying to get his hooves around a gleaming hunting rifle. If we survived this, I was going to have a serious talk with him about appropriate aesthetics in dangerous situations.
There. On the edge of a lake, between two mighty willows who bent their heads to the water like giant dryads kneeling to drink, a black void hung in the air, circled by green flames. Donovan filled his lungs and put on a burst of speed, bolting towards the portal.
The leopard reached us first; I could see it bounding through the tall grass, getting closer and closer?—
Bang.
It rolled, smashing through the tall grass and kicking up dust.
“Whoo-whoop!” Cecil hollered, riding backwards effortlessly like he was born to the saddle. Shifting his hips as the bear barreled towards the portal, he aimed and fired again, taking out the bobcat and a snarling wolf right behind us.
Donovan took a deep breath. “Ready the brace, Cecil!”
“You got it, babe!”
Babe?
The pack howled behind us. God, they were close, but we were almost there, almost. Cecil whipped around in his saddle, facing forwards again as the bear disappeared into the blackness of the portal.
We were only yards behind them, but the shifter army was so close. A wolf was right on our tail, snapping and snarling.
I buried my head in Donovan’s chest and prayed.
Darkness pressed in on me, then my ears popped, and we burst out of the portal, into soft artificial light—a black-painted hallway with one soft orange light overhead and a thick black curtain right at the end.
The wolf leapt through behind us. Donovan skidded to a halt immediately and ducked into a crouch, cradling me to his chest. The wolf sailed over our heads, crashing into the curtain at the end of the hallway. “Now!” Donovan shouted.
Golden sparks flew behind us, but I was more worried about the huge gray werewolf in front of us, who spun on his feet, snarling. The bear burst through the curtain and tackled him, and they rolled together, growling, grunting, great jaws snapping.
Suddenly, the air was filled with frenzied screams. I turned to check out the commotion. Cecil had magicked up thick prison bars over the portal. Dozens of savage animals were pressed up against the iron bars, their faces contorted and eyes bulging.
Cecil chuckled.
“A sturdy brace, Cecil!” Donovan panted.
“Spoilsport. Come on. Look at their stupid faces.”
“Cecil.” Donovan, too, had reached his limit.
“Fine.” He waved his hooves, the bars vanished, and a wall appeared, blocking out the portal completely.
We didn’t hang around. The bear tore out the wolf’s throat almost effortlessly, sat back on his haunches, and fussily wiped his tongue with his paws.
“The wall won’t hold them,” Donovan said darkly. He caught my eye. “Can you walk?”
I nodded. He took my hand firmly and pulled me down the hallway. “Where are we?”
“San Francisco Zoo,” a familiar deep voice panted beside me. “It’s a convenient location for a portal to the Woods. We’re in an auxiliary building between the Lemur Forest and the African Savannah.”
I gaped. “Bart?”
His eyes widened. Dear god, the man was hairy. And huge. “Who did you think it was?”
I thought it was a bear. A real, vicious bear. Judging by the way he’d massacred over a dozen terrifying shifters, I assumed he was real.
Or Cress, in disguise. “I— Bart—You— Striker—” I swallowed as too many questions fought to get past my lips. “I thought you were scared of cops!”
Bart blushed and opened his mouth to answer, but Cecil smacked him with a hoof. “You’re still naked, you fool. Stay still for one second.”
“We must move, Cecil,” Donovan grunted, tugging my hand. “We will not be safe until we are deep in Violet’s embrace.”
“If he runs out of this building into the Lemur Forest butt-naked, he’ll get arrested.” Golden sparks flew, and Bart lumbered up beside me, in a three-piece tweed suit. “There. It’s a little formal for a Saturday, but?—”
Not wanting to raise suspicion by running, we power-walked through the zoo, heading for the exit—Donovan held me upright so I didn’t stumble. Cecil, now as a Labrador, stole a stuffed goose from the gift shop, loped out with it in his mouth, and bolted towards the parking lot.
We piled into a matt-black armored SUV, and, as soon as the doors were closed, I breathed a sigh of relief, crawled over to Bart, and hugged him.