dominating lesser beings.
After the first bite, another followed. Another and another came after that, piercing Randolph’s body at will. Slithering bodies wriggled beneath his fur, burrowing deeper so they could find yet another place to plant their curved teeth. Randolph reached down with one hand to swipe at the snakes. Some of them were instantly severed by his claws, but the rest swung back to wrap around him. They were more than just stray snakes following a command from Icanchu. They were connected to the Mist Born somewhere along his massive body. The serpents that had been shredded by the werewolf’s claws were sucked beneath Icanchu’s scales like rope being retracted by a reel, while the others were free to move without being impeded by the larger serpent’s movement.
Not wanting to pass a chance to claim another stone, Randolph gritted his teeth and absorbed the pain of all those bites. Some kind of venom was being pumped into him, which clouded his vision around the edges and made his ride on the Serpent Lord’s back even more dizzying. Another lump of metal was firmly in his grasp, but Randolph had to fight to dislodge it. When it came loose, he reclaimed the arm he’d sunk in all the way down to the elbow.
It wasn’t just a Jekhibar. That was something crafted by Gypsy hands and suited to their needs. Perhaps the humans couldn’t do anything with the raw ore, but that wasn’t Randolph’s concern. He was a Full Blood, and the Torva’ox flowed like blood through their veins. Now that the ore was in his possession, he could feel it being drawn to the earth. Perhaps this was why the Gypsies needed to craft it into their Jekhibar. It took all of his strength to maintain his hold on the pieces of metal as the Torva’ox flooded his system.
Rather than clench his fist around that which he’d sought and jump away from the Mist Born, Randolph moved even faster along Icanchu’s writhing body. He was no longer concerned with looking for anything, so he was free to scamper along the Mist Born’s thickly muscled trunk as it swung back and forth. Some of the smaller snakes chased him, while others appeared to block his path or clamp onto him to prevent him from jumping free. Branches of all sizes brushed against his back and tugged at his fur until Randolph was finally slammed into the river.
He kept his focus on the living plateau directly beneath him. Submerged in the chilling waters of the Amazon, he concentrated on shredding the snakes holding him in place so he could circle around Icanchu’s rough cylindrical body toward open air. Breaking the water’s surface and filling his lungs, he found more scales that rose above the smooth plane of the rest. Since he was only a short pull away, he dragged himself along the Mist Born and drove the talon beneath one of them to pry it off. Icanchu responded with a renewed series of twisting convulsions. A snarling hiss drifted from the skies, warning Randolph that the serpent’s massive head was coming his way. Before he could escape, Randolph spotted something that caught his interest. Without wasting another moment of contemplation, he leapt back into the water and dove straight to the bottom of the river.
Icanchu’s head splashed above him, creating a ripple through the Amazon that he could feel as he paddled farther down. The Mist Born’s segmented trunk emerged from the bottom of the river, surrounded by several glittering jewels similar to the ones he’d already plucked. There was more of the ore to be had, but even more interesting than that was the moss-covered portion of Icanchu’s torso that led into the ground itself.
Like a chunk of rock that had been dropped from the sky, Icanchu’s gaping jaws surged toward him. When he glanced over his shoulder, Randolph discovered the Serpent Lord a few inches away, his eyes churning wildly, as if reflecting the mud kicked up on all sides. The Full Blood curled his body so he could turn around sharply and swipe at Icanchu with both rear paws. He drew enough blood to form a hazy cloud around Icanchu’s face and followed that with a solid bite to his cheek. Icanchu recoiled and twisted his head away, more stunned than wounded by the attack. Randolph took the opportunity to swim down far enough to see that his suspicions had been correct. The river bottom was cracked open, and Icanchu’s body emerged from the hole like a worm from the meatiest portion of a rotten apple.
As he floated beneath the surface, Randolph wondered how far down the Mist Born went. If his body had the same proportions as a snake, it would widen in the middle and slowly taper at either end. As far as he could tell, Icanchu’s segmented torso had gotten wider the farther into the water it went. At the spot where it emerged from the cracked river bottom, it was as thick as four tanker trucks lashed together in a bundle.
The rush of water came again. Randolph pushed away from the river floor using both legs and paddled as best he could with both hands clenched around the lumps of ore. Suddenly, the water around him rippled. A distortion formed on all sides, and before he could change direction yet again, massive fangs pierced his back and chest. They tore into him like broken iron girders, dragging him sideways through the filthy water as his powerful limbs kicked uselessly against the current.
Randolph’s mouth opened to unleash a scream that was silent apart from the torrent of bubbles exploding from his throat. Those same bubbles were brushing against his face before being left behind completely. Icanchu’s fangs tugged at the flesh in which they were lodged, and before Randolph could figure out what direction was up, he was lifted from the water and tossed into the air.
Even as he sailed without anything solid beneath his feet, he thought to protect the pearls he’d collected. His fists closed around them and he angled his body so his back would take the brunt of the impact when he landed. Wind rushed past his face and roared in his ears, letting him know he was still sailing.
Trees brushed against him and branches snagged in his fur to pivot him in midair. It was still another few seconds before he snapped the larger branches on his way down through the tree line. Closing his eyes, Randolph tucked his chin in tight against his chest and formed a ball of muscle that skidded against the dirt after a solid thump. His ears hadn’t stopped ringing when he heard the hissing of snakes drawing closer. Icanchu’s voice could be heard above them as it cursed the Full Blood in an ancient language. When Randolph attempted to stand up, he staggered and lurched to one side.
Power surged through his hands, emanating from the pearls that drew their energy from the rawest form of the Torva’ox. Randolph had lived through many full moons when the ancient energies flowed but had never felt the visceral connection to that which fueled everything from the first sparks of life to the whitest core of every flame. He knew if he soaked it in and channeled it through his body, he would become the most powerful shapeshifter on the planet. Even among Full Bloods, he would be a force to be reckoned with. Legends of Gorren told of how the ancient werewolf could rip through legions of wretches and annihilate entire populations of Nymar without their claws or fangs causing more than a scratch. Gypsy clans had been made extinct in the effort to put Gorren down, and cities set to the torch in the smallest hope that he might be caught in the flames. Such legends were unproven, but now Randolph had the means to test them for himself. And unlike those who needed to wait for their share when the next Breaking Moon rose, he would just have to allow the pearls in his hands to recharge.
“Keep that which you took,” Icanchu hissed through the mouths of at least a dozen snakes that wriggled toward him through the grass, “and I will be able to find you. Return them now and you may keep your life.”
Randolph’s fists clenched even tighter as he shifted into a more compact form, one that would allow him to run faster without forcing him to use all four legs. Ahead, Jaden howled in a way meant to show him the quickest way through the jungle. He pointed his nose in that direction and started covering ground in leaping bounds. He only needed to run toward a few more howls before the ground became familiar beneath his feet. Once she’d led him to the river and pointed him north, Jaden disappeared.
He would remember what she’d done.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They hadn’t driven more than twenty or thirty miles after crossing the border, but Cole felt as if he’d been taken into another century. Not only were the roads quieter than those in the States, but they looked as if they’d been that way even before packs of werewolves were such a common sight. Sophie veered onto a path that took them into the forest and even farther from civilization as he knew it.
After emerging in a clearing smaller than half a football field, she pulled to a stop in front of a shack that whistled when the wind blew hard enough to stir the leaves piled on either side. Now that he’d had more than a few seconds to take in the rustic sight, Cole could see the ridge surrounding the clearing. Covered in thick layers of moss, it was too low to be a wall and too high to be fallen logs. Whatever it was, it formed a shape similar to a crater, with the long, rickety shack situated in its center.
