Andrea had come through. I never doubted she would.
A high-pitched scream erupted from the darkness of the street to the left. It tore through the encroaching night, a long, piercing shriek suffused with sheer terror. The shapeshifters tensed.
A man emerged from the gloom. Of average height, wrapped in a long cloak that flared with his every step, he strode through the snow, and as he walked, snowflakes rose in the air, swirling in glittering clouds. Gale. Erra’s undead with the power of air.
Another man leaped into view and crouched on the rim of the Mole Hole. Nude, covered in dense dark hair, he was slabbed with thick muscle like a weightlifter on a life-long steroid binge. Huge and hairy. Right.
Erra had brought at least two. No matter how strong her powers were, controlling two at once had to be hard. It was likely they would mirror each other’s movements, acting in groups.
A third figure followed, a naked man so thin, his skin clung to his bones, outlining his ribs and pitiful chest. He turned his head, scanning the crater, and I saw his eyes, yellow, like egg yolks. Darkness.
The three undead froze, still as statues. Milking the entrance for every drop of the drama.
A long moment passed.
Another.
“Get on with it,” I growled.
Another. This was getting ridiculous.
The mist parted. Erra strode into view, head and shoulders above her undead. The light of the fires washed over her. A white fur cape streamed from her shoulders, the waterfall of her hair a dark stain on the pale collar.
A hush fell over the Mole Hole.
Erra’s gaze swept the crowd, taking in the archers, the Biohazard, the vans, the equipment, the audience up in the ruins nearby . . . She raised her arms to the sides. The cape slipped off her.
Glossy red fabric hugged her body. It clung to her like a second skin of pure scarlet. My aunt apparently had developed a fetish for spandex. Who knew?
Gale thrust his hand through his cloak. His fist gripped a large axe. The orange light of the flames shimmered along the ten-inch blade attached to a four-foot handle. The axe probably pushed six pounds in weight. A normal swordsman would be slower than molasses, but with her strength, it wouldn’t matter. She could swing it all day and then arm-wrestle a bear.
Gale turned on his heel, walked five steps to Erra, and knelt before her, offering the axe on the raised palms of his hands.
“We should clap or something,” Curran said. “She’s trying so hard.”
“Maybe we could scrounge up some panties to throw.” I adjusted the binoculars to focus on her face.
Erra raised her head. Power brimmed in her eyes. She looked regal, like some arrogant goddess poised above the chasm. I had to give it to her—my aunt knew how to put on a show. Would’ve been more dramatic if she had seven undead instead of three, but hey, at least she had some flunkies to bring.
Erra reached for the axe. Her fingers closed on the handle. She thrust it at the sky. With a hoarse scream, power pulsed from her like a shockwave, shaking the foundation of the ruins. It slammed into me, setting my blood on fire. Curran snarled. By the Mole Hole, people cringed.
Needles burst from Erra’s red suit. Veins of dark crimson spiraled up her legs. The fabric flowed, thickened, snapping into recognizable shapes: fitted curaise, spiked pauldrons, gauntlets . . .
It wasn’t spandex. Shit.
I leaned to Curran. “She’s wearing blood armor. It’s impenetrable to normal weapons, claws, and teeth.”
His eyes darkened. “If I hit her hard enough, she’ll still feel it.”
I nodded. “My sword will eventually soften the armor, but it will take time. She doesn’t know you’re here. If you wait, you could get in a good shot.”
My personal monster leaned closer. “Still trying to keep me from the fight?”
I slid my fingers along his furry cheek. “Trying to win. She made no helmet—she’s too vain.”
Ancient or not, she was still a human and he was a werelion. If he timed it right, he could crack her skull like an eggshell with a single blow.
“One shot,” he said.
“I’ll keep her busy. Just don’t bite her. Broken teeth aren’t sexy.”
He grinned, presenting me with a mouth full of finger-sized fangs. I rolled my eyes.
Erra took a step forward. For a moment she towered above the drop, light dancing over her scarlet armor, and then she plunged into the Mole Hole. Gale chased her, a soundless shadow gliding across the glassy floor. Darkness and Beast remained behind.
Twenty yards to the center and the bonfire.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Tamara unsheathed her sword. Fiery sparks flared at the edge of the crater. PAD archers lighting their arrows.
Eight.
The archers fired.
The barrels exploded, punching my eardrums with an air fist. An inferno drowned the Mole Hole, emanating heat. Within its depths I glimpsed Tamara, unscathed, the fire sliding along her body but never touching her.
The spectators cheered at the human barbeque.
The roar of the flames gained a new note, a deep whistling tune. It grew louder and louder. The flames turned, twisting faster and faster, rising in a spiral, like a tornado of fire. The cone of flame parted, revealing Gale floating in the heart of the tornado, his hair streaming from his head, his arms crossed on his chest. His body leaned back, completely relaxed. His eyes were closed.
So much for napalm.
Below him Erra stood. A red helmet hid her face and hair. The blood armor encased every inch of her. Oh, good. Because it wasn’t hard enough before. She had to go and put a helmet on.
The fiery tornado shifted out of her way. The helmet crumbled, revealing her face. Her mane of hair spilled over her back. Score. No helmet was good for us.
With a grimace, Erra swung her axe and charged.
Tamara struck, her sword preternaturally fast. Erra batted it aside like a toothpick and swung in a crushing reverse blow. The axe bit deep into Tamara’s shoulder, cutting through the collarbone all the way into her ribs.
Tamara screamed, a desperate sound of pain and fear.
Curran clamped his oversized hand on my shoulder. “You can’t help her. We wait.”
Erra caught Tamara by her throat and lifted her off her feet. Her roar smothered Tamara’s screaming. “Is this all you offer me? Is this it?”
She shook Tamara once, as if flinging water from her hand. The noise of the fire drowned out the telltale crunch of bones, but her head flopped to the side, loose on a broken neck.
“Where are you, child?”
I rocked forward.
“Not yet.” Curran pushed me down.
“She’ll kill them.”
“You go in there now, we’ll all die. We stick to the plan.”
In the air, Gale opened his eyes.
“There is no escape. I’ll find you,” Erra promised.
The cone of fire unfurled like a flower and splashed against the rim of the Mole Hole, torching the archers. Tortured screams ripped the night apart, followed by the sickening stench of charred human flesh. Gale turned, and the inferno followed, roaring like a hungry animal. He cooked the survivors alive as they fled.
All around the Mole Hole, people in PAD and Biohazard suits ran aimlessly, their weapons abandoned. The idiot spectators still packed the building. Erra’s magic didn’t reach them.
“Here I come!” Erra thundered.
