Sarah and Jeremy, who stared at Eliot, astonished and openmouthed.
It was almost worth it to see their faces.
Eliot sank back into his music and played “The Symphony of Existence”-the part where you died and some spirits wandered aimlessly in limbo, forever lost.
Cannons and crews faded to shadow.
The air thickened as veils of haze collected into tendrils and then condensed into impenetrable fog.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he told them.
“Go, go!” Fiona urged.
Eliot heard their padded footfalls over the grass.
He did his best to keep the fog from closing on them, but the music was elusive and slippery. . and the air filled with glowing eyes, outstretched skeletal hands, curling ropes of vapor. . and drifting bodies that moaned.
Eliot paused and looked up.
Lost in the pea-soup-thick fog, he heard Van Wyck cry out, “Make fire. Call the winds. Anything to get rid of this stuff! And watch out for ghosts!”
Several of his Wolf teammates called back, unafraid.
It was only a matter of time before they undid his efforts. Every one one of them had magic. Eliot had to escape while he had a chance.
He started toward the jungle gym-but stopped, seeing that behind him was Jezebel.
She stood still, head cocked as if trying to pinpoint every sound whirling about her: spirit and flesh.
She hadn’t run with the others.
He took one step closer, hoping, his head spinning about one possibility. “You. . you stayed?” he whispered. “For me?”
But the instant Eliot said it, he knew that was wrong.
Her eyes snapped open, jade green so intense, they seemed to smolder, and then her beautiful lips parted in a mocking smile.
“Young Prince Eliot Post,” she said, “so like his father, ever the hopeful romantic.” Her smile turned into a snarl.
Eliot’s face burned. He’d thought she cared enough to stay with him, endangering herself to do so. How did she always do this to him? Make him think she liked him, when she. . what? Hated him?
But Eliot also burned on the inside. . from the attraction he felt for her even now. In the middle of a pitched battle, surrounded by death and students who wanted to kill him, Eliot wanted nothing more than to embrace and kiss her.
This feeling sang in his blood and called to something in her blood. Something on fire. Something that moved and pounded and pulsed in time to her pulse.
Something diabolical.
Jezebel’s eyes widened. “Stop,” she breathed. “Do not. You do not understand.”
Eliot tried to heed her words, but found himself stepping closer. He could smell her cinnamon and vanilla perfume.
“Then explain,” he demanded in a hushed voice.
“You feel my. .” Her gaze dropped and she flushed. “I
He blinked, indeed now feeling the screaming rage mixed with the passion swirling between them.
Eliot thought he understood. What he’d mistaken for an attraction. . was not quite right. It
But it wasn’t lust. It was
“You’re going to fight them,” he said. “All of them.”
“My injuries will only slow you. I choose to stand my ground.”
“They’ll tear you apart. I won’t let you.”
She laughed. “You
Eliot felt her heat intensify, pulsing in waves.
Jezebel’s claws extended and fangs filled her mouth.
Mr. Ma had called it the “Infernal combat form.”
He took an instinctive step back. “Don’t do this,” he said. “Please.” He held out a hand, beckoning her to him.
“Run. Eliot,” she said. “Run while you can.” Jezebel’s voice deepened and darkened and seemed to echo from within a great space.
The air about her moved and charged with static. Her shadow spread outward in a black circle.
Jezebel’s claws dripped venom that hissed as it burned the sod. The faint blue-green veins under her skin bulged and twisted, some sprouting free as vines that twined with budding orchids. Delicate horns curled from her head, and snow-white bat wings ripped through her T-shirt-all swelling and unfolding, until she was twice his height.
She continued to grow, and Eliot stepped back, trying to see. . losing her in the fog, making out only a winged silhouette towering thirty feet over him.
This was really Jezebel, Protector of the Burning Orchards and Duchess of the Many-Colored Jungle of the Infernal Poppy Kingdoms-terrible and magnificent.
Eliot felt hate flood and burn through his blood.
Was this what she truly was? Some fallen angel so far removed from the girl he thought he’d known?
He sighed, realizing his hate wasn’t for her. It would physically hurt Eliot to hate her. What she looked like didn’t matter.
She was willing to sacrifice herself for them. Maybe it was a rage-filled Infernal motivation, but she was going to throw herself at their enemies-vanquish them or, in turn, be vanquished.
Eliot wanted to join her. That’s why he felt the anger burn within. He wanted to be like his father, like her: Infernal, horrific, glorious-and destroy everything he touched.
Then reason returned and his blood chilled. . and he was ordinary Eliot Post once more.
Team Dragon and Wolf were closing in.
Fiona and the others would need him.
He ran for the jungle gym.
Eliot caught up to his teammates one story up on the jungle gym. They were on a landing and faced the balance beam bridge.
The beam was a single handsbreadth wide. There was no railing. Spiked steel balls swung over it, so to cross without getting your skull bashed in and then knocked off, you’d have to time it just right.
“Where’s Jezebel?” Fiona asked. She looked concerned, confused,
Eliot shook his head, unable to explain, still trying to cool his blood.
He didn’t have to say anything, though. On the field, there was a thunderous roar and screams. Streaks of fire lit the fog, and a giant silhouetted shape moved.
“The Infernal combat form,” Jeremy whispered in awe.
“She’s buying us time,” Robert said.
Fiona gazed into the murk and bit her lower lip. “Okay-we have to go
Eliot looked away from his sister. Jezebel was strong, but she faced
