reached for my gun, but as a great shadow fell over them, I realized it wasn’t us that had caught their attention.
Overhead, a pack of gargoyles had broken away from the others. They swooped down through the treetops and attacked the revenants with their claws, teeth, and tusks. Undeterred, the revenants fought back, pulling machetes from the sheaths on their backs and hacking at the gargoyles.
Bethany grabbed my arm and started pulling me away. “Come on! Back this way!”
I looked up. The sky was filled with gargoyles flying toward the Cloisters. The ones at the head of group had already reached the tower and were circling it like a funnel cloud. “But the tomb, we must be close,” I said.
“We’ll never make it,” she insisted. “You saw all those people back there in the bleachers. It’s only a matter of time before the fight spills over to where they are. You think either side cares how many humans get caught in the crossfire? We have to get them out of there before it’s too late.”
I took one last look at the battlefield below, already running with gargoyle blood and littered with chunks of mangled revenants, then ran with Bethany back to the tournament field. We squeezed through the narrow gaps between bleachers to get inside. There were three hundred people in those seats, at the very least. There was no way the two of us could get them all out of there as fast as we needed to.
Bethany looked overwhelmed. “What are we going to do?”
On the other side of the field was a dais where a man dressed as a medieval king was announcing the tournament standings into a microphone. “There,” I said, pointing. “That mic is the only way we’re going to reach everyone.”
“But what are you going to—?” she started to ask, but I was already running out onto the field. I darted between the horses as they galloped toward each other, the chestnut stallion rearing in surprise and throwing its rider. The other horse, a black mare, whinnied and slid to a quick stop. I kept running. Security guards appeared from the sidelines, chasing after me. I broke for the dais, raced up the stairs beside it, and hip-checked the announcer away from the microphone.
I grabbed the mic with my free hand and raised the Anubis Hand with the other to make sure I had the crowd’s attention. “Everyone! You need to get out of here! Clear the stands!”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, peppered with a few nervous chuckles and some drunken applause, but no one moved.
“Damn it, listen to me! You have to get out of here
Below, the security guards surrounded the dais but didn’t climb the steps. They barked into walkie-talkies, and a moment later a cluster of police officers came out onto the tournament field, walking toward me. On instinct, my chest tightened at the sight of them, but I pushed the feeling away. This time, the cops were just what I needed. Provided they would listen to me.
“Officers, you have to evacuate the park, everyone is in danger!” I shouted into the microphone.
The cops kept coming toward me. One look at their stern, stony faces told me they didn’t care what I had to say. Their hands hovered at their belts between their guns and their handcuffs, waiting until the last minute to decide which one they’d need to subdue the raving nut with the big metal stick.
I stepped back from the mic and looked around, trying to find a way out. The security guards were still at the bottom of the steps, blocking any exit that way. On my other side, the costumed announcer had found his courage and grabbed the mic again.
“No need to worry, folks. We’ll get the show back up and running in a moment,” he said. The crowd cheered. The announcer looked at me, then said into the mic, “Just another reason they shouldn’t serve alcohol at these things anymore. Am I right?” The cheers turned to boos.
The cops looked up at me from the field below. One of them spoke around the wad of chewing gum he was working over, “Drop the metal pipe, sir, and come on down.”
I backed away, clutching the staff tight. I had to make them listen, but I didn’t know how. “Please, get them out of here!”
The cop sighed. “I don’t like having to repeat myself, sir.” The group of officers started toward the dais stairs.
A commotion arose at the far end of the field. A handful of gargoyles and revenants smashed suddenly through the low picket fence and onto the tournament field, locked in a desperate struggle. It was too late. The fight had spilled over already.
The officers, not understanding what they were seeing, ran toward the fight to break it up. “No, get back!” I yelled, but it was too late. As soon as the officers got close, the revenants attacked them with their machetes, hacking them to pieces.
Like a spark hitting a tinderbox, it set off a scream of terror through the crowd. People stampeded for the exits. The costumed announcer jumped off the dais and ran across the field, where the horses were panicking, kicking and running in circles. The jousters didn’t stick around to try to calm their horses before scrambling away. But only one end of the field was safe from the battle, the side with the bleachers, and the exits between them were too narrow. People pushed and shoved, and before long shouts of pain and anger joined the screams of terror. It was pandemonium.
I jumped off the dais, gripping the Anubis Hand tight in case any gargoyles came at me. I scanned the surrounding chaos for Bethany, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
A vast shadow fell over the tournament field, as if something immense had passed over the sun. I looked up. The whole sky swarmed with gargoyles, so many that the heavens themselves were blotted out, relegated to bright flashes of blue between the winged bodies overhead.
“Bethany!” I shouted, looking for her again. Then, finally, I spotted her near the other end of the field. She was helping an older woman with a cane out of the stands and away from the fight. I started running toward her. Bethany got the woman to the nearest exit, then saw me. She started toward me across the field, shouting something I couldn’t hear over the din.
A flash of black caught my eye. A dozen crows descended from the sky and swooped down to the field. A moment later they were gone. In their place was the Black Knight, sitting astride his armored black horse.
Right behind Bethany.
I shouted, “Look out!”
She looked over her shoulder, saw the Black Knight, and started running. The Black Knight urged his horse into a gallop, chasing after her.
“No!” I shouted, running toward them. “It’s me you want! Leave her alone!”
The Black Knight drew his sword.
Damn it, they were too far away. I heard the distressed whinny of another horse and saw the chestnut stallion standing nearby, digging a hoof in the dirt and flicking his tail nervously. I grabbed the saddle strap, hooked a foot into the stirrup, and swung myself up into the saddle. The jouster who’d ridden him had left his shield behind, hooked to the saddle on the horse’s back. Perfect. I picked it up in my free hand. It was made of a thin metal, possibly tin. Fine for a jousting exhibition, but not so great against the Black Knight’s sword. Still, it was better than nothing, and I didn’t have time to complain. The Black Knight was already bearing down on Bethany.
I leveled the Anubis Hand in front of me, a makeshift metal lance with a mummified human fist for a point, and squeezed my knees together to signal the horse to move. The stallion broke into a gallop, his panic subsided as his training took over.
“Over here!” I shouted. “I’m right here, you overgrown tin can!”
But I was still too far away. The Black Knight swung his sword, the barbed blade striking Bethany in the back. She cried out in pain, her legs giving out beneath her, and fell facedown to the ground.
My heart crammed into my throat. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t release the anguished cry building like a head of steam inside me.
Bethany lay still in the dirt. Very, very still.
My lips pulled back in an angry snarl. I spurred the horse to run faster. The Black Knight turned the impassive, expressionless face of his helmet toward me just as I bashed the Anubis Hand into his chest. I’d hoped to knock him off his horse, but the Black Knight only rocked in his saddle a moment. Then I was past him, the chestnut stallion’s momentum taking me several yards away before I managed to slow the horse and turn him
