I had to warn the Pack.
I spun around and saw Marigold lying on her side in red snow.
Oh, God. I stumbled toward her and broke into a run.
“Wait!” the medmage chased me.
Marigold lay unmoving, her head jerked high. The twisted wreck of a golem’s spear jutted from her neck. She must’ve been hit when Erra was throwing shit around.
I dropped into the snow and grabbed her head. Her eyes stayed dark. Her long eyelashes didn’t move.
“Can you fix her?”
“She is dead,” the medmage said.
She killed my Marigold. The bitch killed my Marigold. I’d used this mule for a year. I’d brought her carrots, brushed her out, and relied on her to carry me into a brawl or storm. Now she was dead, killed as an afterthought.
I staggered to my feet. I had to get to the phone.
People jumped out of my way. I marched up the steps and grabbed the first warm body. “Phone?”
“Inside, to the right.”
I ran inside, made a right into a small room, and grabbed the phone. Work. Work, damn you, work,
Dial tone. Yes!
I dialed the Keep. A man picked up. I barked, “Curran. Now.”
“Who is this?”
“Kate Daniels. I’m the agent of—”
The phone clicked and Curran’s voice filled the phone. “Leave a message.”
“The Steel Mary’s name is Erra. If any of your people fight her, she will make you go mad. It’s her specialty. She served Roland, which means she came here to kill the Pack. Be careful. Don’t fight her directly if you can —”
The call cut out. I’d reached the message limit.
I dialed the Order. Maxine came on the line.
“I need a pickup at the Temple.”
“I’m sorry, dear, but everyone is out.”
“Andrea?”
“She’s out helping Mauro.”
I hung up and punched in Jim’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
“I need help.”
“You just now figured this out?”
I tried to speak calmly. “I’m at the Temple. I just ran into the Steel Mary and I need to get home before she makes it there.”
“I’ll have a car there in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you.”
I went outside. Three rabbis approached me. The older woman, Weiss, and a man who had to be in his seventies. With long pure white hair and an equally white beard, he looked positively ancient and he walked with a limp, leaning on an ornate staff.
“You’ve brought this to the Temple.” He indicated the golem graveyard with the sweep of his hand. “You are no longer welcome here. Leave.”
Oh, that’s just peachy. I pointed to Solomon. “Burn the body. Don’t touch the blood. If you experience any symptoms of illness, immediately contact Biohazard.” I pointed at the medic. “You! Patch me up.”
“Did you not hear?” The woman stared at me, incredulous.
“I have a Mary with pandemic potential who pilots undead mages and who is fixing to raid my house. Everyone I’ve ever known is about to become a target. Being banned by the Temple is the least of my worries.”
EVERY STEP I TOOK JABBED A DULL, COLD PAIN INTO my side. My skin felt wet under the dressing. The wound had come open. The Temple medic was very good, but the cut simply hadn’t had enough time to heal. At least the dressing had been well applied, so the blood should stay put.
I made it to the bridge and slumped into the snowdrift. Grendel licked me and ran away to paint the snow yellow.
I had to get home.
A car shot across the bridge way too fast. Metallic black, it had the body of a hot rod that had somehow sprouted Indyracer-style front wheels. Painted red flames stretched from its front over the hood, licking a bizarre horned skull with the words DEMON LIGHTNING painted above it. Its backside bubbled up, struggling to contain a monster of an enchanted water engine.
The car hurtled past me, braked in a spray of snow, and stopped two feet away. The driver side window slid down, revealing a tiny Indonesian woman. I’d met her before. She was the Pack’s resident mythology expert. She was also a vegetarian, and when she turned into her animal, which happened to be a cross-eyed white tiger, she refused to bite anything that would bleed into her mouth.
She was also blind as a bat.
Dali peered at me through her glasses and nodded at the car. “Get in!”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“Get in, Kate!”
“What the hell is this?”
“That’s a 1999 Plymouth Prowler. Also known as Pooki.” I bet Jim thought he was funny. “Dali, you can barely see. You can’t drive.”
Dali stuck her nose in the air. “Watch me.”
No choice. I screamed for Grendel, stuffed him into the car, got in, and buckled my seat belt.
Dali floored it. Snow burst on both sides of the car and we shot forward. The wooden planks thudded under the Prowler’s weight. The bridge curved ahead. Dali showed no indication of slowing down.
“Dali, there is a turn.”
The turn rushed at us.
“Dali . . .”
The Prowler sped up, straight as an arrow.
“Turn! Turn left!”
The wooden rail loomed before us. The Prowler veered left, turning so sharply it almost careened. I held my breath. For a second we were weightless, and then all four wheels landed on solid ground.
“I saw it.” Dali pushed her Coke-bottle glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m not blind, you know. Hold on to your seat, there is another turn coming up.”
If I survived this, I’d kill Jim with my bare hands.
The car squealed and missed the rail by a hair.
Dali’s happy face swung into my view. “I know your kryptonite.”
“What?”
“Kryptonite. It’s the rock that could take down Superman?”
I stared at her.
Dali grinned. “You’re scared of my driving.”
It wasn’t driving. It was suicide by car. “I need to tell you about Erra.” I clenched my fists as the car fishtailed. “So you can tell Jim.”
Dali made a face. “Why do I get the privilege?”
“Because you’re a Pack expert with a proven record and you can back up what I say with your own research. He’ll listen to you and I don’t have time to explain things to him myself right this second.”
She looked at me. “Kate? Is this something really, really bad? Because you have that clenched-teeth look . . .”
“Watch the road!”
