I retrieved my gun and checked the clip. The five silver bullets were still there.
“It seems Lord Amon doesn’t believe in hunting defenseless prey,” Devona said.
“Or that he isn’t as vulnerable to silver as an ordinary lyke. Let’s get moving; the clock’s ticking.”
As soon as we stepped into the glen, it became night. I don’t mean the perpetual dusk created by the diffuse shadowlight of Umbriel; I mean honest-to-God night, with stars and everything. Despite our situation, I was so surprised that I stopped and stared overhead. They were the first stars I had seen in two years, and they were beautiful.
For an instant I had the dizzying sensation that we had somehow stepped through an unseen door between Nekropolis and Earth-that I was home.
“Are those stars?” Devona asked, her voice soft with wonder. “I’ve heard about them, but I’ve never actually seen any before. They’re lovely-and so far away. They make me feel small, and yet somehow big at the same time. Does that make any sense?”
“It makes perfect sense. But they can’t be real stars. What we’re looking at is most likely an illusion, a distraction designed to slow us down.”
“You’re right, of course. I’ll lead the way; my night vision is better than yours.” She took my hand and pulled me forward.
“And keep a nose out for Amon. We don’t know what form he’ll be wearing when he attacks, but it has to have a scent.”
“Right.”
We ran. The grass was slick with dew, and the sound of crickets chirping filled the air. I knew it was all just special effects supplied courtesy of Amon, but a wave of homesickness hit me hard, and I thought that if I had to die for good, I could pick far worse places in Nekropolis.
We continued forward, Devona’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on the opposite treeline, her heightened senses alive and alert; I held my gun at the ready, my comparatively weak vision and hearing working overtime, cop instincts on full.
Moments that felt more like hours passed, without any sign of the master of the Wyldwood.
“Why is Amon even bothering to stalk us?” Devona said in frustration. “He’s a Darklord, one of the six most powerful beings in the city, including Father Dis. How can we possibly provide him with a real challenge?”
“I don’t know much about Amon, but I’ve heard it said he gets as much pleasure from swatting flies as he does from stalking big game. To him, the hunt is everything.”
Devona started to reply, but then she suddenly squatted down, yanking me along with her so hard I felt something pull in my arm. I heard rather than felt something large pass through the air above us, approximately where our heads had been. A shrill cry of frustration sounded, followed by the flapping of wings as whatever it was began gaining altitude for another run.
“Looks like our head start’s over,” I muttered, scanning the night sky for Amon. I looked for a black patch against the stars, but whichever shape Amon was wearing, he was moving too fast for me to locate him. And then I heard something large whistling through the air and Devona screamed.
The starlight didn’t provide much illumination, but it was enough for me to see that Devona was struggling with a large bird-an eagle or maybe a condor; it was difficult to tell in the dark. Whichever the particular avian, I knew it really was Amon. I raised my gun, but didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Devona.
“Throw him off you so I can get a shot!” I shouted.
Devona grabbed the bird by the wings and hurled him forward. It was dark, the bird was moving fast, and my reflexes are not nearly as good as they were when I was alive. But I didn’t worry about any of that. I squinted my left eye, aimed, and squeezed off a shot.
The bird shrieked and hit the ground with a heavy thump. I held my gun on it, waiting for it to stir, but it didn’t move. Without taking my eyes off it, I asked Devona if she was all right.
“A few cuts on my face, a couple fairly deep. Messy, but otherwise I’m unharmed. I should heal before too long.”
The bird remained motionless, but I didn’t lower my gun an inch; I knew better. “He was probably going for your eyes. Makes sense, since you’re the only one of us who can see in the dark.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think a Darklord doesn’t die this easily.”
“I think you’re right.” I moved toward the bird slowly, keeping my gun trained on it the entire time. It didn’t so much as move a feather as I approached and stood over it.
“What kind is it?” I asked.
“An eagle, I think,” Devona answered. “I’ve only seen them in books, though.”
I carefully toed the eagle and its body collapsed into dust. I bent down, intending to get a closer look, but within seconds, the dust too was gone.
“Perhaps we got lucky,” Devona suggested.
“I don’t believe in luck.” I stood. “We’d better-” My sentence was cut off as a snarling piece of darkness detached itself from the night and slammed into me, knocking me to the ground, spitting and clawing. Ivory fangs glinted in the starlight as the panther buried its teeth in the undead flesh of my neck.
But as sudden and hard as the impact had been, I still had hold of my gun. As the big cat worried my neck, I calmly raised my pistol to its head, pressed the muzzle against its black fur, and fired.
The panther let out a cry and fell limp.
“Devona, could you help haul this thing off me?” I asked. “It’s pretty heavy. Oh, and be careful. Its teeth are still lodged in my neck.”
Together we got the panther off without much additional damage to my already ravaged neck. Devona then helped me to my feet, and I noticed that my head was canted to the left. I tried to hold it upright, but it wouldn’t stay. One more repair to add to the list for Papa Chatha-if I found a way to survive past the next couple days.
“Matt, your neck…” Devona sounded concerned and, although she was trying to hide it, mildly disgusted. She knew intellectually that I was a zombie, but I think this was the first time she’d really understood what that meant.
“It may look bad, but believe me, I’m okay. Now let’s check out Sylvester here.” I kicked the kitty corpse as I had the eagle’s, with the same result: it collapsed into dust.
“Amon must be cheating,” Devona said indignantly, “sending other shapeshifters in his place.”
“I don’t think so. Lykes don’t disintegrate like this when they’re killed. I think we have been fighting Amon, but he’s a far different kind of shapeshifter than his subjects. When we shoot him, we kill the body he’s wearing at the time-not him.”
“You mean he discards his shape, leaves it behind?”
“Like a snake shedding his skin. He’ll keep coming at us in different forms until I’ve used up my three remaining silver bullets. And then he’ll have us.”
“Not if we can get to the other side of the glen first,” Devona said.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. We ran for a while before Amon attacked, right?”
“Yes, I’d estimate for perhaps five minutes.”
“Me too. And in that time, we should’ve been able to cover a significant amount of ground, right?”
She nodded warily.
I pointed in the direction we had come, toward the line of trees where Rolf had left us-trees that were only a few feet away. “Then how come we haven’t moved?”
EIGHTEEN
“No wonder Amon steered us to this glen,” Devona said. “It’s enchanted.”
“I hate Darklords,” I said. “I really do.”
“I don’t know if we’ve been running in place, running in circles, running in a straight line through warped space, or have been standing still and just think we’ve been running.”
