barbecue. Nobody stepped up to take their places right away, which gave him time to yel over to me, “Save yours for later!”
I said, “Okay!” My opponent, a former member of the Republican Guard, made a stupid move, raising his sword over his head with both hands. I took the advantage and split him like a ripe melon, amazed that the sound of skin tearing and blood spurting stil worked here, where so many of the world’s rules had been shattered. I looked over at Raoul guiltily. “That was just too easy. You saw.”
“Can’t you do one thing without putting
Vayl snorted. And although he didn’t say anything, I got the picture. Jaz had forgotten how to be a team player. Probably sometime during childhood, when al Evie wanted to do was play Barbies, and Dave couldn’t be distracted from his G.I. Joe’s imaginary missions to, of al places, Pennsylvania.
Wel , fine. If Raoul wanted a prisoner I could probably round one up for him. In fact… the stench of rotten flesh brought my attention to the blemuth. Who was picking pieces of Dog out of his teeth with a bloody talon and, in the brain-scrambled way of his kind, just now deciding what to do next.
Something I’d heard years ago swam to the top of my head. A way to tame these huge beasts so that they were forced to obey every command. I couldn’t remember which of my col ege professors had done the field research, but I decided now was the time to put it to the test.
I ran toward the blemuth. The closer I got the more I decided the yel ow gunk caked under its thick black toenails was probably old, rotten cheese. Wishing for a bandana to tie over my nose, or even a horrible cold, I charged toward the opening between the pads of the blemuth’s first toe and the one right next door.
Wanting badly to look away, knowing I couldn’t even squeeze my eyes shut, I shoved my sword into the gap between pads, gagging as the smel of foul feet and new blood mixed with the air my body needed for survival. It got even worse when the blemuth bel owed in pain and jerked his foot back, pul ing me and the sword I clutched with him.
“Jasmine!” I heard Vayl cal behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a prisoner!” I yel ed back. “Just give me a—” A dry heave stopped me as a big chunk of toenail trash came loose and flew past my head. Knowing I could only dangle from my sword for so long before I was either smashed by the blemuth’s descending foot or so revolted that I wil ingly jumped to my death, I scrambled to the top of the foot. Which was when I realized the creature was made of more than wisps of soul and cosmos dust. Somehow Brude had managed to import a real live soul-crusher into his realm.
I knew I was right when the king’s tinny laughter echoed off the insides of my head, leaving spikes of pain every time it bounced off one of the wal s that kept it contained. I felt a wetness beneath my nose, pressed it into my shoulder, and knew without looking that blood stained my sleeve. More laughter from Satan’s most dangerous adversary.
Silence, sweet and pure as a mountain stream, inside my mind. It al owed me to climb the blemuth’s blue-scaled foreleg with the ease of a kid on a jungle gym. I kept moving up until I’d reached the top of its plated shoulder. I found the joint where a pathetic sort of chicken wing grew out of its upper back, a reminder of what could’ve been if Alire hadn’t mutilated Mother Nature.
Balancing myself on that spot, I drew my knife and shoved it into the blemuth’s scale-covered earlobe. It pinched just enough that he yelped. “Listen up, train wreck. You feel that pain in your foot?”
He nodded. One fat tear rol ed down his snout and plopped so close to Aaron that his pants were soaked from calf to ankle. He jumped and swore, looking up to find the source of the attack.
When a snot bubble quickly fol owed, he dove for cover.
I might’ve felt sorry for the blemuth. After al , the worst pains often seem to be the smal est. I was gored by a Kyron and shed not a single tear, but paper cuts have made me cry. And he was obviously hurting. Except that part of a Dog’s disguise had gotten caught in his lower tooth and was stil dangling out of his mouth. So, yeah, no sympathy for the spirit-eater.
Instead I said, “I’m the thorn in your paw.” Suddenly I realized.
But it was way too late to back out now. So I talked fast, hoping this blemuth’s brains were more scrambled than breakfast eggs at Denny’s. “When you’ve done everything I ask, I’l stop the pain for good. Do you understand?”
He nodded. Blinked. A few more tears plopped to the ground. Raoul and Vayl, who were far too self-respecting to run for cover, chose the next best course and ascended the blemuth like a couple of seasoned mountaineers. I kept talking while they climbed, hoping he wouldn’t notice al the “fleas” he’d suddenly attracted.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Daisy.”
I coughed. “Wh-huh?” My eyes took another roam over the blemuth’s reptilian body. “You want me to cal you Daisy?”
He nodded. “I’m Daisy.”
I blew out my breath. I’d just temporarily enslaved a gigantic, Dog-eating blemuth named Daisy who, if everything went right, would help us save a trapped spirit. Even Granny May didn’t dare tel me that stranger things had happened. This one broke the scale.
I cal ed down to Aaron. “Climb up here, ya quivering sack of pudding! We’re taking the express to Brude’s place!”
Aaron peered up at us, briefly weighed his options, and then shook his head.
“Another patrol wil find you,” Vayl told him. “They are just as capable of eating you alive as this blemuth.”
Raoul, who’d settled on Daisy’s other wing joint, sat forward to frown at Vayl and me. I shrugged and held up my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
