“Hear me! Hear me, I beg!” this Dragon Tongue shouted. He talked with a slithery voice in a tone Maria thought would suit a snake. “Brethren, lock arms and send your thoughts to the black lake. Bring blood to your mind—the blood of those who oppose us. Let the wave of destruction pass over you, through your mind, your body, and your soul. For now we spill the blood of the witch, the wizard, and the dog.”
Come near me with that fucking blade, and I’ll give you a homemade neutering, buddy! Sherlock threatened, his voice filling Maria’s mind.
She discarded the grate and bent her knees, preparing to launch forward and crawl out into the main square. The crowd shifted, and from her place she could see how beaten Ignatius and Frieda looked; their hair hanging over their faces, their wrists raw and red from the rope wrapped tightly around them. Even Sherlock was in a stockade, except instead of his head, half of his body was pushed through so he couldn’t wiggle free. They tied a rope through his collar and around the stockade’s leg for good measure.
Maria growled. The anger was damn near consuming her. She was going to make them pay.
I mean it, motherfucker! I’ll use one of your nuts as a chew toy, and the other as a tennis ball! Sherlock said. There was no fear in his mental voice. Maria was proud of that.
“Careful, Maria!” Castro said from behind her. “I’ll be right behind you.” He brandished his sword clumsily, but Maria knew he meant business.
She nodded at him, glad she had saved his life. With the number of Dragon Tongue in the crowd, she knew getting out of this alive would be a joint effort.
Red eyes stared at her from the shadows, but she hardly took notice. She backed up, her boots sloshing through the gray water. She needed the extra running space to get a good head start. She was magic, sure, but she wasn’t exactly the most athletically gifted person in any universe. Kickboxing was one thing, but her jumping without landing awkwardly and twisting her ankle was an entirely different story; one that rarely had a happy ending.
“Stop this madness!” A familiar voice rose above all the others. “What are we, barbarians?”
Maria recognized the speaker as the one called Hunter, whom she’d heard just before she and Castro had plunged into the bowels of the town. He was, judging by the crowd’s sudden silence, the head honcho. “We do not kill before Odarth breathes anew!”
The Dragon Tongue all let out a soft groan. That crowd wants blood more than they want anything else. They crave it. Maria could sense that easily enough.
“Free these prisoners from the stockades and take them back to the dungeons NOW!” Hunter boomed.
Two of the Dragon Tongue on the platform didn’t hesitate. They lifted the upper half of the wooden enclosure, and Gramps fell hard to the platform, slumped over and practically dead. Frieda wasn’t so bad off, and she put up a slight fight. Maria noticed she wore heavy metal gloves—probably to keep her from conjuring fire.
The other guard hog-tied Sherlock, wrapping the rope around his paws so they bunched together, and he lay on his back, bucking wildly.
Just able to see this through the opening where the grate was, Maria prepared to lunge again, the madness in her eyes.
Just as she took off, Castro whispered, “Maria!”
She wheeled around. “What?” she snarled.
“This way.” He was pointing to the right. There, built into the bricks, was a small slot, just big enough for a human to fit through.
“I’m going to save them right now,” she snapped. “I don’t have time to play James Bond. No more sneaking around.”
Though, somewhere in the back of Maria’s mind, a voice was telling her she did have time to play James Bond. Sneaking around and sticking to the shadows was a much better plan than to go headlong into a firefight, when the chances of coming out alive were next to nothing.
“This will take us to the dungeons,” Castro said pointedly. He stood near the slot in the brick, peering in. One glance at that small space made Maria’s muscles tense. What if I get stuck in there? What if the brick suddenly thinks it’s the perfect time to cave in while I’m crawling through the bowels of the bowels of the town?
No, can’t worry about it. Gotta play this smart.
She took a deep breath, ignoring the rotten smell the best she could—which wasn’t much. That calmed her a bit.
By this time, Sherlock, Gramps, and Frieda were being dragged from the platform. The only one who seemed to put up much of a fight now was Sherlock, but he wasn’t getting very far. Still, Maria would catch snippets of what he was saying. Get your scaly hands off of me! I’ll rip you limb from limb! I’ll make you wish you were never born—
Hearing his mental voice weighed heavy on her heart, but then they were gone. Taken to the dungeons. That weighed more.
She looked at Castro, being careful to stay out of the shifting moonlight that was streaming into the open sewer.
“Fine, fisherman, I will follow you to the dungeons,” she whispered
Castro gulped. “ ‘Follow’?”
Maria glared at him. “Yes. If you say that is the way, then you must know where to go.”
“Actually…I was planning on waiting here until those bastards up above were gone, then I was gonna crawl out before the smell of this place kills me, and get out of Ashbourne as quickly as I can.”
Maria shook her head. “Haven’t you run
