Jaz Parks 5 - One More Bite

Trickle of appreciative feminine laughter as he went on. “Hey, I see Lucille and Jeremy. Should we sit with them?”

“Are you okay?” I asked, then immediately wished I hadn’t. My backbone was going to buckle if I couldn’t learn to deal with Vayl in pain.

“The ghost has retreated. Something put it off the moment I moved into the aisle. Perhaps Francine and Gerard have convinced it to behave once more.”

“How about you, Cole?” I asked, mainly to cover up the massive relief I felt at Vayl’s news.

“I’ve lost Iona,” Cole said.

“Find her quick,” I told him. “We don’t want anybody snakebit.” And if you catch her trying to control this reptile, so much the better. This mission sucks and I wanna go home.

Staying off the floor whenever possible, I stepped from row to row, approaching the stage at a diagonal. Francine hadn’t seen the snake, which held its place closest to her. It hesitated, as if undecided what to do next. But when forty of its fellows joined it, I realized what was happening.

“It’s going to be a mass assault,” I said. Now that I’d made it closer to the stage I added, “And they are Inland Taipans. Bea definitely has an affinity for snakes, but she’s not a Medusa.” Which is somewhat of a relief. But not much. Because she must be wielding some major wham to be able to transport and control that many wild, venomous creatures.

Vayl glanced back to the stage, took note of what I’d just described, and said a bad word into our receivers. He never swore. Unless, apparently, the danger was snake related. “Let us get moving, ladies,” he urged. I could see him shoving people aside now.

Dormal had stopped in her tracks, allowing traffic to flow around her like a highway median. The group had nearly reached her when Floraidh stumbled. She’d have fallen, and probably been stomped by the people behind her, if her Gatherer hadn’t caught her.

The snakes began to move, slithering down the speaker and across the stage like a living carpet. They didn’t spread out much or move in random directions. It was as if an unseen hand guided them resolutely in a single direction. Forward, down the edge of the platform, onto the event floor.

The Connies who’d seen them spread the hysteria quickly, so that everyone who hadn’t panicked to start with now began screaming and shoving, the people in the back literally crawling on top of those in front of them to avoid the reptiles at their heels.

The last of the crowd had made it halfway down the aisle now. But the snakes were advancing. When the Connies realized they couldn’t escape straight ahead, they voted for the side routes and began parting like the waters of the Red Sea.

My group had nearly made it to the door. The cushion between them and the Taipans had flattened alarmingly as the crowd scattered. And yet I could practically feel their freedom, like the cool hard steel of a cell key in my fingers. But they were never going to make it without help. And I had so little to offer.

I could try some spark and sizzle. But I’d probably end up burning the castle down. Plus with my luck, I’d end up ashing out the last corner of sweetness left in my soul. So, despite my misgivings, I kicked in the Mongoose.

At the time Bergman had invented the gizmo, we’d figured on battling a Medusa. So it was geared to hit a human-sized target. Not a huge problem, considering the snakes still hung together, tightly woven as a carpet. The issue, frankly, was Bergman, whose prototypes let me down about ninety percent of the time. Already I was thinking, What am I going to do when this doesn’t work?

Feeling a doomed sort of resignation, I pulled up my left sleeve, pointed the device at the Inland Taipans, and triggered it. White foam poured out of the spout as if it was a fire extinguisher. Wherever it hit, the snakes began to writhe wildly as smoke rose from their glistening scales. Even better, their neighbors abandoned the Floraidh chase and began to attack them.

It’s working! Holy crap, Bergman, you’re a genius!

A booming echo rang in my ears as the main doors closed, leaving me and thirty-odd people stuck in the great room with maybe half of Bea’s attack snakes still crawling. But the rest of my crew held out, safe, on the other side. Cool. Right?

I moved down the aisle, almost back to the spot where I’d started, and shot the last of the foam at the Taipans. Now I could count the remaining threats on the fingers of one hand. I pulled out Rhona’s .38.

As I took aim I felt the familiar scent of pine that told me Vayl had returned. Considering how he felt about snakes, he must be gripping his self-control with white-knuckled fingers.

I squeezed off a shot, sending one of the reptiles flopping as my sverhamin slid up behind me.

“Could you use some help?”

Part of me wanted to reach back and hug him. But he wasn’t a three-year-old hoping to be rewarded for his brave-boy moves. “I wouldn’t mind if you dropped the temperature by a few,” I said. “These suckers are quick.”

The familiar glacial breeze of his power chilled the snakes’ blood, slowing their advance.

Two more shots. Two more dead critters bleeding onto the carpet while the remaining two sank their fangs into the twitching bodies. I was siting in my final target when Vayl yanked me backward, falling with me on top of him, onto the carpet.

“What the hell?” Then I saw the Highlander, swooping just over our heads. I ducked, covering the cut on my arm as I spread myself across Vayl’s vulnerable chest wounds. But the warrior wasn’t interested in us. He wanted the snakes.

He dove over the chair Rhona had crashed and into the pile of Taipans like a blitzing linebacker, making the corpses shiver as he hit them. The blood on the ones I’d shot splattered onto the remaining, living snake. The Highlander immediately hit it, leaving gashes all along its length. It writhed in agony as the ghost slashed again and again until at last the snake lay still.