Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
Don’t stop, no matter what you hear, see, or smell.
For the love of all the gods, don’t stop.
LUCA
The air tastes like danger.
Adrenaline is pumping through every inch of my body. From the pungent herbs to Malach’s vacant expression, nothing is right. But there’s no way but forward.
“The stone will drop us a hundred yards from the portal,” Riven says. “With the protections in place, it’s as close as we can get with magic.”
“A sprint to the finish,” I say.
“More like a gauntlet,” Alistair mutters. His chin is stained from the veydra’s blood, although he’s done his best to wipe it off.
“How long until the next eclipse?” Celine bounces on the balls of her feet, but I already know how she feels. The ribbon of light, currently wrapped around my basilisk, is buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety.
“We’ve got almost an hour left,” Riven says. “We should be gone long before that becomes an issue.” He glances at Ciprian and Alistair, but we all hear the part he leaves unsaid. If we aren’t gone by then, the freeze will be the least of our worries.
“You’ll stay behind me,” Riven says to Hyacinth.
She rolls her eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
“I promised your mother I would protect you.” His face warps, black-and-white static cutting lines through the smooth amber.
Hyacinth’s fingers clench around the strap of her bag. “Don’t worry, Riven,” she whispers. “Even if you get me killed, you’ll have done a better job protecting me than her.”
Riven sighs. “Hyacinth—”
“Aren’t we in a hurry?” Her eyes harden as she looks away from him and waves her hand at the door. “This is hardly the time for a heart-to-heart.”
Thoroughly scolded, Riven mutters under his breath and nods. I hide my smile. This witch is tough as nails.
We gather in a clump, and Hyacinth reaches into her bag with trembling fingers.
Ciprian shifts his weight. I hope he’s absorbing every drop of her fear and ours. The more he consumes now, the more he’ll be able to shield on the way to the portal.
I don’t get to worry about it for long, though, because the witch stone doesn’t care if we’re ready or not. As soon as Hyacinth touches it, we’re yanked from the cabin and spit out in the middle of my worst nightmare.
I swallow a noxious combo of bile and venom as the urge to shift hits me like a truck.
The portal is surrounded. There are dozens of veydran and monsters, facing out in a full circle, leaving no angle unguarded. A few winged monsters hover above the rest, their oversized eyes searching the horizon.
“Fuck this,” Ciprian hisses.
“No, you can’t—”
“I can and I will.” He presses a quick kiss to Celine’s lips, then glances at the rest of us. “I need all of you to do me one favor, though. When my nightmare falls”—he gulps heavily—“and it will fall, scare the absolute shit out of them.”
He doesn’t say he’ll need the fear to make it home, but we all know it.
I nod, grit my teeth, and drop to my knees, reaching inside myself to free the basilisk. “Got it,” I hiss in a voice that’s barely recognizable. “Scary shit coming right up.” I blink, my vision tinges yellow, then pain consumes me as I call on my monster.
No more leash, I’m done hiding him.
I once told Celine I would turn the world to stone for her.
It’s time to fucking do it.
On my right, a duplicate of our group runs out of the woods and charges the portal. I glance left and see a different configuration of us doing the same thing. Ciprian has created a shell game.
We move forward as one. Me, on my belly, flanked by the others. Ciprian stumbles, and Malach’s arm shoots out, keeping him from falling and proving he’s paying attention.
The opposing army splits into two sections and charges the decoys.
Everything is tinted yellow. Heat signatures show up in my basilisk vision as deeper oranges and reds. They stand out in a field of nothing—targets for me to take down.
The first group reaches the decoys. They grapple with them, stumbling and tripping over themselves when they encounter no resistance.
Ciprian’s nightmare sputters then fades, but it’s done its job.
More than a dozen fighters are out of place, leaving a path to the portal unguarded.
Like a game of checkers, they moved their back row too soon, and we won’t waste the opportunity.
We rush the gap.
Sixty yards to go.
Beside me, there are gasps and pants. Cold and adrenaline pack a punch against lungs not made for this climate, but we’ve got no choice. It’s either fight our way to freedom or die here, and none of us are ready to die.
The second decoy fails.
Forty yards.
Several veydran shout at the monsters while scanning the clearing, but they can’t see us. Ciprian’s giving everything he’s got to keep us hidden, and it’s giving us a huge advantage. We can’t waste it.
Twenty yards.
I hear a pained groan; Ciprian is flagging, but I don’t dare glance back and risk the others when I’m this locked in.
“I’ve got him,” Malach grunts. Sprinting past me on the right, he kicks off the ground with Ciprian cradled in his arms. His wings flap hard, struggling to get airborne with the added weight. My breath fogs the air in a relieved puff as soon as he manages it.
“Now, Ciprian. Drop it now,” Celine shouts. The sensation of his nightmare falling away scrapes along my scales. Then every eye focuses on us.
Moving left to right, I lock eyes with them one at a time, slicing through more than a dozen monsters and veydran before they process what’s happening.
Cold, like nothing I’ve ever experienced, slams into me. I’m sluggish and achy, but it’s not nearly as bad as before. I’ve gotten stronger—no, we’ve gotten stronger. I’m not a man or a basilisk split into two anymore. I’m just Luca.
Celine brushes past me, grabs a petrified veydra, and hurls it at an advancing line of fighters. The stone figure bowls them over, and screams of pain explode from the pile.
More shouted orders, husky—panicked. We’ve surprised them.
A red blip crosses the corner of my vision. I dodge a split second before talons rake against my scales, leaving a gash in my neck instead. It hurts, but I ignore the pain as Celine jumps on my back, using me as a launching pad to throw herself at the monster.
She catches its leg. It screeches in fury, but the sound cuts off abruptly when Celine slams it down with enough force to shake the ground. Out cold, it doesn’t get back up or change forms.
That’s fine.
We won’t be here when it wakes up.
Riven is tearing through the veydran to my left, snapping bones like matchsticks while Hyacinth stays a few feet behind him. Her lips never stop moving. Acrid and earthy, her magic coats the air until I can taste it on my tongue. I wonder what she’s—
Dirt clods and ice pellets pepper my face and eyes as the ground explodes. I flinch away, temporarily blinded by the flying debris. Motherfucker, I need to see! I shake my head, trying to clear my eyes as monsters shoot up from holes in the ground the size of Malach’s thighs.
Alistair shoves past me, weaving through the burrows until he’s nothing but a blur. Everywhere he goes, he snaps a neck, leaving a trail of dead, razor-toothed worms behind him.
Venom coats my mouth, and my eyes won’t stop watering, blurring my view of the portal. We’re only about ten yards away, but it’s never felt so far.
Keep moving. I tell myself not to stop. We’re winning. We can do this.
Then every single remaining veydra morphs into the same form. Bulky and malignant, with red hair blowing in the wind. They wear a face that’s as strange as it is familiar.
Celine roars with rage.
Our bond pulses with too many things to name: agony, fury, and something even more intense . . . vengeance. It burns brighter than the sun.
Something tells me I’m about to finally meet S’lach.