Magic Rises (31 page)

“Ready if you are,” Aunt B said.

* * *

The steep trail curved south, away from the castle. Blackberry bushes flanked the path, stretching thorny branches across the gravel and dirt. Our guide hadn’t said a word since we left the city behind about an hour ago. I did my best to turn my brain off and concentrate on memorizing the way back. Thinking about anything inevitably led back to Curran. I wanted to stab something. Failing that, I wanted to pace around. None of that would be helpful. Emotional raging just tired you out.

“How do you know where the orange shapeshifters nest?” I asked. Any distraction in a pinch . . .

“I’ve seen them.” Volodja shrugged, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder. “It’s not far now.”

I couldn’t wait to find out who pulled his strings.

“Come on, dear,” Aunt B said. “Where is your spirit of adventure?”

Midway up the trail, the magic wave drowned us. We paused, adjusting, and moved on.

One hour later the trail brought us up onto the crest of the mountain. Straight ahead the sea sparkled. Behind us, low in the valley, lay the city. A tall cliff rose to the left and within it gaped a dark hole.

“Cave,” Volodja explained. “We go in.”

“You first.”

Volodja took a step forward. The bushes on our right rustled. A dark-haired man stepped in the open. Around thirty, with a short beard, he carried a rifle and a dagger and wore a beat-up version of a djigit outfit. A bundle lay across his shoulder with mountain goat legs sticking out of it. A big gray-and-white dog trotted out and sat next to him. Broad and muscular, she had a dense shaggy coat. She might have been some type of Molosser—she looked like someone took a Saint Bernard and gave it a German shepherd’s muzzle and coat.

The hunter squinted at Volodja and said something. The kid answered.

The hunter waved his free arm. I wished I had a universal translator.

“What is he saying?” I asked.

“He is . . . crazy.” Volodja put his index finger to his temple and turned his hand back and forth.

The hunter barked something. The dog at his feet woofed quietly. I missed Grendel. I wished I could’ve brought him. Maybe he’d bite Hugh and Curran for me.

Volodja waved at him, like you would at a mosquito, and started to the cave. “We go.”

“Plokhoe mesto,”
the hunter yelled.

Accented Russian. That I understood. “He says this is a bad place.”

Volodja pivoted on his foot, his gaze sharp. “You speak Russian?”

“I do. I also get very angry when people try to trick me.”

He raised his hands. “No trick. You want orange things or not?”

“We do,” Aunt B said. “Lead the way.”

“Agulshap,”
the hunter said.
“Don’t go into the cave.”

Agulshap
didn’t sound like a Russian word. “What does
agulshap
mean?”

“I don’t know,” Volodja said. “I talked to you: he is crazy.”

Keira shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

I didn’t like it either.

“Come along,” Aunt B said. Her face still had that pleasant, sweet-as-sugar smile, but her eyes were hard. Suddenly I felt sorry for Volodja.

He pulled a torch out of his pack and lit it.

The mouth of the cave grew closer with every step. A few more seconds and it swallowed us whole.

* * *

The cave stretched on and on, tall, giant, vast. Stone steps carved into the living rock of the mountain led down below, and my steps sent tiny echoes bouncing up and down from the smooth walls.

“Little far,” Volodja explained over his shoulder.

“Clear as mud,” Keira muttered.

The stone steps ended. The only light came from the torch in our guide’s hand. We crossed the cavern floor to a rough arch chiseled in the rock. Volodja stepped through. Aunt B followed, and then I did, with Keira bringing up the rear. We stood in a round chamber, about thirty feet wide. Another exit, a dark hole, yawned to the right.

“We wait,” Volodja said.

We stood in darkness. This wasn’t filling me with oodles of confidence.

Keira touched my shoulder. Something was coming.

The kid dove forward, through the second opening. I lunged after him and ran into a metal grate that slammed shut in my face. The second clang announced another grate slamming into place over our only exit.

I pressed against the wall, between the two exits.

“I thought so,” Keira said.

Aunt B sighed.

We just had to figure out if this was a straight robbery or if someone had hired them to do it.

Someone shone a light through the grate. “I have crossbow,” a deep male voice said. “Silver bolts. Give money.”

“I don’t understand,” Aunt B said. “Where are the orange shapeshifters? Volodja?”

“No shapeshifters.” Volodja laughed, a little nervous giggle. “You give money and you can go. Human girl stays.”

“Don’t I feel special.”

“You trapped with us. Give money!”

“You have it wrong, dear,” Aunt B said. “We are not trapped here with you.” Her eyes sparked into a hot ruby glow. “You are trapped in here with us.”

The happy dress burst. Her body erupted, as if someone had triggered the detonator, but the explosion of flesh swirled, controlled, snapping into a new form. A monster rose in Aunt B’s place. She stood on powerful legs, her flanks and back sheathed in reddish fur spotted with blotches of black. Her back curved slightly, hunched over. She raised her arms, her four-inch claws held erect, like talons ready to rend, and great muscles rolled under her dark skin, promising devastating power. The monster snapped her hyena muzzle, the distorted, grotesquely large jaws opening and closing, like a bear trap.

Keira’s dress flew. A werejaguar rammed the grate. The crossbow twanged; the shot went wide. The metal screeched and the grate flew past me and crashed into the wall. Men screamed. A body flew, like a rag doll hurled by an angry child.

I kept my place, staying clear. There was room for only one of them in the passage and I would only get in the way.

Aunt B dashed after Keira, yanked a struggling man, and slammed him against the wall next to me. Volodja’s glassy eyes stared at me in sheer panic. He hadn’t turned, which meant he likely couldn’t hold the warrior form.

Aunt B’s hand with fork-sized claws squeezed his throat. She snapped her teeth half an inch from his carotid. A deep ragged growl spilled from her throat. “Who hired you?”

“Nobody,” he squeezed out.

“Who hired you?” Aunt B pulled him from the wall and slammed his head back against the stone.

“Kral! Jarek Kral!”

Aunt B squeezed. Her claws drew a bright red line on the kid’s chin. “What were you supposed to do?”

“He wants human killed,” Volodja struggled in her grip.

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t ask!”

Aunt B hurled him across the room and ducked into the opening. I moved to follow. Something clanged. The floor dropped from under my feet and I fell into the darkness below.

* * *

A second doesn’t seem like much time, but the human mind is an amazing thing. It can pack not one but two short thoughts into the space of a second, thoughts like
Oh shit
and
I’m about to die
.

Rock flashed before me and I plunged into vast empty darkness, crouching in midair, trying to brace for impact.

The air whistled past me.

My ears caught a hum. My instincts screamed,
Water!

I hit the sea. Like smashing at full speed into concrete. The impact slapped me and all went dark.

* * *

No air
.

My eyes snapped open. I was suspended in salty water.

My lungs burned. I jerked upward. My head broke the surface and I gulped the air with a hoarse moan. It tasted sweet and for a few moments I could do nothing except breathe.

I survived. The impact must’ve knocked me out for a few seconds. My cuts hurt. Kate Daniels, extra-salt-in-the-wounds edition.

I tried kicking. Legs still okay. Arms moving. Body check complete, all systems go. I turned around. Weak green luminescence came from the moss growing in the rougher spots on the walls, doing little to combat the darkness. Still, it was good enough to see. During tech, this place would’ve been pitch-black.
Thank you, Universe, for small favors.

I floated on my back, trying to look around. A huge cavern rose around me, its floor flooded with seawater. You could fit half a football field into it.

I turned and swam along the wall. I had a pretty good breaststroke but my boots weren’t doing me any favors. They sat on my feet like two bricks.

No way up. The nearly sheer walls rose straight up. A small stone ledge protruded on one side, barely four inches wide. Even if I could somehow climb onto it, I couldn’t stay on. Far above, a black hole punctured the ceiling. I must’ve fallen through it. A few feet to the left and I would’ve splattered against the stone wall on the way down.

When I got out of this, I’d have to track down Volodja and his friends and thank them for this fun excursion. Assuming there was anything left after Aunt B and Keira were done with them.

How the hell was I going to get out of here?

Something bobbed in the water in front of me, a dark bundle. I sped up. A canvas sack, watertight. Hmm.

The sack moved.

I put six feet of water between me and the sack with a single kick. Clearly I’d had too much excitement for one day.

The sack twisted. A bulge stretched the fabric on one side.

Maybe someone had stuffed a cat into a bag and thrown it down here. Of course, if my experience was anything to go by, the sack would contain a giant brain-sucking leech that would immediately try to devour me. Then again, considering the current mess, the leech might not view me as a tasty treat. Nope, no brains here.

The sack twisted.

No guts, no glory. I swam to the bag, pulled my throwing knife out, and sliced at the cord wrapped around its top.
Here goes nothing.
I pulled the sack open and looked into it.

A human face peered at me with bright eyes. It belonged to a man in his forties or fifties, with a short gray beard, a hawkish nose, and bushy eyebrows. There was nothing exceptionally extraordinary about it except for the fact that it was about the size of a cat’s head.

I’d seen some freaky shit, but this took the cake. For a second my brain stalled, trying to process what my eyes saw.

The owner of the face lunged out of the bag into the water and sank like a stone.

He sank. Crap.

I dove down and grasped the flailing body. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen inches tall. Deadweight hit my hands. At least thirty pounds. I almost dropped him. I kicked, dragging him up.

We broke the surface.

I gasped for breath. A small fist rocketed toward me. Pain exploded in my jaw. Good punch. I shook my head, dragged the struggling man to the stone ledge, and heaved him onto it. He scrambled up.

We glared at each other. He wore a bronze-colored tunic with an embroidered collar, dark brown pants, and small, perfectly made leather riding boots.

What in the world would he be riding? A Pomeranian?

The man blinked, studying me.

I’d managed to find a hobbit in the Caucasus Mountains. I wondered what he would do if I asked him about second breakfast.

The man opened his mouth. A string of words spilled out.

“I don’t understand,” I said in English.

He shook his head.

“Ne ponimayu.”

Another shake. Russian didn’t work either.

The man pointed to his left, waving his arms, frantic. I turned.

Something slid through the water at the far wall. Something long and sinuous that left ripples in its wake.

I flipped the knife in my hand and pressed against the wall, as close to the stone as I could.

The creature slid downward, into the water. The surface smoothed out.

Another ripple, closer. Smooth water again.

The opening bars of the theme from
Jaws
rolled through my head.
Thanks. Just what I needed.

If I were something long and serpentine with big teeth and I was hunting for some lunch, I’d swim up from underneath my victim.

I took a deep breath and dove.

A silvery-green beast sped toward me through the clear water. Fourteen feet long, as thick as my thigh, with the body of an eel armed with a crest of long spikes, it swam straight for me, its eyes big and empty, like two yellow coins against the silver scales.

The serpent opened its mouth, a big deep hole studded with a forest of needle-thin teeth.

I pressed against the wall, my feet against the rock.

The serpent reared and struck. I launched myself from the wall, grabbed its neck, hugged it to me with every drop of strength I had, and jammed my knife into its gills. The sharp spikes sliced my fingers. The serpent coiled around me, its body a single, powerful muscle. I dragged the blade down, ripping through the fragile membranes of its gills.

The serpent contorted, churning the water. I clung to it. To let go was to die.

My lungs begged for air. I stabbed it again and again, trying to cause enough damage.

The serpent writhed, impossibly strong.

Black dots swam before my eyes.
Air. Now.

I let go and kicked myself up.

The serpent lunged at my feet. The teeth clamped my boot but didn’t penetrate the thick sole. I jerked, trying to kick myself free. I could see the shiny ceiling where the air met water right above me.
Another foot. Come on.
I rammed my other foot into the serpent’s head.

The teeth let go. I shot up and gulped air.

The tiny man on the ledge screamed.

The silver spine broke the surface next to me. I slashed at it, trying to cut it in half. The serpent clenched my foot again. Teeth bit my ankle and yanked me down.

I kicked as hard as I could, trying to swim back up. If it dragged me down, it would be over. Magic was my only chance. I pulled it to me. Not much there—a weak magic wave.

The serpent pulled, drawing me deeper and deeper under the water. I kicked its head. One. Two . . .