The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (46 page)

“Free me, boy! Free me!” she croaked. “Free me!”

Dom pushed back against her, utilizing every sinew he had; the pressure was building inside his head, the veins on his neck popping out.

“Free me! Free me! Free me!” she jabbered with a brisk shake of her head, making all the rings and jewels embedded inside it shake and jingle. “Ha ha! Free me! Free me! FEED ME!”

Her open jaws descended upon him and she finally won the battle. He fell back, slamming onto the stone floor, pain rocketing up his spine. She fell on top of him; a giant brute monster. Dom struggled to free himself of her, but it was useless; it was like wrestling with a walrus.

The fangs hanging around her neck—the very thing he’d been sent to retrieve—dangled down into his face; they were there for the taking, but impossible to snatch.

Above them, her misshapen fangs closed in on him. They were like the teeth of a great white, small strings of saliva caught between them; they snapped shut less than an inch from his nose.

She groaned in frustration. “I haven’t seen mortal blood flow in so long!” she growled. “I want a taste! I’m tired of snake, it’s bitter! I want sweet human flesh!”

She opened up her jowls and moved in slow and deliberate, Dom’s struggles beginning to weaken. He caught a glimpse of her eyes; they whirled and spun like black holes in the reaches of space. Bottomless pits of darkness that led to an unrelenting, unending realm of suffering and malevolent obscurity. The hunger and dark desire encapsulated in those eyes was the dark fire burning in the corners of Hell.

She forced herself down on him further, her hefty arms flexing. The stench of decay filled his nostrils, her cold breath brushed against his cheek. Nausea rose and fell in his stomach.

He groaned and turned his head away, his eyes falling on an ancient ornate pot lying on the ground nearby. Her hot grunts filled his ears; her cavernous mouth virtually on him.

Do something!
his mind screamed.

He threw an arm out to the side. He grabbed hold of the pot and brought it around with a growl; it connected with the side of her head. She howled as the priceless object smashed into tiny fragments across her face. Ancient dust rained all over Dom as her grip on him was momentarily severed. He managed to shove her off him, before he scrambled away, desperate to get back on his feet.

Magdalena rolled in the opposite direction, an insane cackle juddering from her chest. She was enjoying the chase, savoring the torment she was inflicting.

Well, this meat is too sweet for you, baby,
Dom thought to himself as he jumped to his feet. He went and grabbed his crossbow. A huge, six-toed foot stamped down on it. Dom’s head snapped upward. His face was met with a sledgehammer of a fist. It thumped him on the nose; the blow sent him reeling, he landed on his butt, his eyes whirling. Before he knew where he was, Magdalena’s meaty hand grabbed his throat. His tongue popped out of his mouth as she hauled him first to his feet, then, with a grunt, pinned him against the wall, his feet leaving the ground. He thrashed his arms around, the constriction on his neck stopping his breathing. Blood ballooned in his head. Beyond her outstretched arm, her black eyes whirled and danced, buzzing with insane intelligence. She was trying to ice her prey, hold her food in place.

Dom was more than grateful he had his anti-vamp-hypnosis lenses in. He knew without them he’d be iced forever and she’d sink those crazy teeth into him and gleefully feed on his blood; the first human she’d tasted in who knew how many years?

He continued to thrash and resist.

“Why won’t you stay still?” she snarled. “What sorcery are you using?”

Dom began to make choking noises as she tightened her grip.

“Maybe you are holy!” she said.

She twisted her hand left and right, attempting to snap his neck.

Dom reacted. He thrust his foot forward, kicking repeatedly at her inner thigh with his bare foot. It was like kicking a rubber tree. She squeezed harder and now he knew he was in trouble. His eyeballs rolled like marbles; the bones in his neck were literally bending under the pressure. A little more and she’d snap them like they were twigs.

She growled like a wolf as she squeezed.

Darkness began to descend over Dom’s eyes; he was losing consciousness. His head felt like it was about to pop.

Do something, Dom. Do something. ANYTHING!

He thrashed out a wild arm, his fingers clutching for anything within reach. They found his torch that he’d hung on the wall.

He yanked it out of the holder and shoved it into her face as hard as he could. The flame on the torch caught hold of her wild hair; it ignited into flames. Within moments, she was a flaming torch, fire erupting all over her head. Her eyeballs rolled upward; she let out a panicked scream. She let go of his neck and jumped back, frantically patting her head with her hands in a comical fashion, trying to douse the flames. Dom dropped to the floor; the blood rushed from his head and back around his body. He croaked under the pain in his throat, but didn’t have time to nurse his wounds. He threw his torch to the side and whipped up his crossbow.

Magdalena was now hopping from foot to foot like a deranged pygmy, panting like a rabid dog while she patted her burning head. The mummified arms and legs hanging off her waist jiggled and danced as if alive. An astringent stench of singed hair filled the air; it hit Dom’s nostrils, making his nose twitch. Now, with the advantage, he got a skewer loaded and aimed his crossbow at her, trying his best to steady his aim. His body was a temple of pain and burned energy; he just needed one more burst of strength and calm. Just one.

Magdalena finally managed to put out the flames; she spun to face him, rage scrawled all over her face, big bald patches now dotted across her head. She looked like some kind of twisted experiment gone wrong; the kind of unidentifiable thing that mysteriously washes up on beaches near genetic research labs. Now she had her hands out to the sides, Dom could get a good aim at her heart.

He became conscious of his breathing as he tried to turn it shallow; he needed to be calm, steady, so he didn’t miss his target. He sucked in a breath.

Let her have it!

He went to curl his trigger finger in, when she inexplicably dropped to the floor, propping herself up by the palms and the tips of her toes. She began scuttling across the stone floor like a giant crab, feral grunts bolting out of her mouth. The surprise threw him; he dropped his aim downward. With lithe dexterity she advanced on him in a zigzag movement, her bulbous shoulder muscles flexing, her eyes fixed on the weapon in his hands. He couldn’t get a lock on her no matter how hard he tried. Within seconds, she was by his feet.

He went to shoot, but she’d already swung a brutal arm up at him. She effortlessly swatted the crossbow from his hands; it clanged across the floor, coming to a stop at the edge of the island they were on. It hovered half over the snake pit. Magdalena then propelled herself up to her feet, shoulder barging him. Dom stumbled back toward the opposite side of the island from where his crossbow now lay, precariously close to the edge of the pit. His arms reeled on the air as he desperately tried to regain his balance. From beneath him, a multitude of hisses bombarded his ears.

He whirled his arms harder.
Oh no, oh no, oh—

He lost his balance completely. He stumbled back and became airborne. He screamed in terror as he fell into the snake pit. His reflexes triggered. On the way down, he managed to twist his body to the side; he threw out his arms at the last moment, hooking each of his hands on opposite ledges of the pit. He came to an abrupt, jarring halt, his legs dangling over the snakes. He immediately widened his legs, jamming both feet into opposing walls of the pit. Now, he was wedged in the space between the floor he’d been standing on and the slithering pit floor.

He took a tentative glance down between his legs. Snakes were gathering beneath him, their heads turned up his way; he watched their forked tongues darting on the air, their hissing growing more fervent. They could smell food, dangling just above them.

Dom gulped, just as a snake reached up and snapped its jaws at the air inches from his crotch. His eyes bulged.
Woah...

The last thing he wanted was a bite from one of those. He tried scrambling up, but his feet couldn’t find any purchase. He was stuck in that gap like a cork. And the snakes were starting to pile up on one another in an attempt to get closer to him. Their hissing reverberated in his mind in a hellish choir.

A shadow then fell over him and his head whipped up to meet it. The dirty sole of Magdalena’s giant foot was raised over him
.
His eyes then fell on his hand as it gripped the edge of the ledge for dear life. He knew in an instant what she intended.

With a yelp, he threw his hand away, propelling his momentum to the opposite ledge. Magdalena’s foot came down on the area where his hand had just been; it slammed onto bare stone
.
Dom grabbed onto the opposite ledge, where he hung like a hunk of meat, his feet dangling toward the snakes. He pulled his knees up to his chest as far as they would go, his ass sticking out, hanging on by his fingertips.

Multiple snakes were now hissing and snapping at his feet.

Man, some vamp hit this has turned out to be,
he thought to himself in disappointment.
It’s worse than the Drake job.

A snake snapped at his bare foot, missing it by inches.

Where’s Trixie when you need her?

With a hot grunt, Magdalena leaped across the pit. She went and stood over him; she glared down at him, her face a crazed scrawl of hate.

“Feeding time, my babies!” she screeched, raising her foot. Dom stared at that dirty sole in terror. Once that foot came down on his fingertips, he’d fall into the pit with all those wonderful waiting snakes. He glanced down; they were a black mass of coiled meat, all writhing amongst each other on their never-ending journey to nowhere, just waiting to be fed upon by the demented ancient creature Dom was battling with.

He knew right then that there was no way out; he had neither the strength nor initiative to haul himself out of the corner he’d been pushed into. It was fruitless; hopeless. He took another glance at that dirty sole, at all six toes misshapen and bulbous. Its shadow descended over him like a dark cloud. Somewhere behind him, hanging on the edge of a ledge was his crossbow, the only chance he had to kill Magdalena. From where he was currently stationed, there was only one way to get to it.

And that was down.

He sucked in a deep breath.
Here goes nothing!

He released his fingertips, just as Magdalena’s foot came down. He plunged into the snake pit, his stomach clenching. He focused hard on the mass of snakes as he fell. One popped its head up, anticipating his arrival; Dom aimed his remaining sneaker right at its open jaws. He landed square on, crushing its head back down; he felt its bones breaking underfoot as he landed on the soft, leathery bundle of snakes. Hot hissing filled his ears. He flicked his eyes upward; Magdalena’s ugly mug glared down at him with a dumb stare, her elongated earlobes swaying to and fro. Dom knew she couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and neither could he.

He didn’t hang around. He fished out his can of mosquito repellent and his Zippo. He got her lit up, just as a snake head popped up. Dom yelped, held out his Zippo and pushed the button down on his repellent. The plume of repellent touched the flame and erupted into a small jet of fire that propelled into the snake’s face. It recoiled and slithered away, terrified of the flame. Dom grinned. Another snake snuck up out of the mass. Dom aimed his Zippo its way and pushed down the button on the repellent. The snake caught the blast of fire full on. Its head singed, releasing a stench of cooked rot.

Dom knew he had to move fast; the faster he moved, the less time the snakes had to react to his presence. He whirled and began scampering through the snakes, using them as flooring; they were soft and rubbery underfoot. It was like walking on an inflatable mattress. He trod light but fast, pumping his arms and legs, every footfall triggering off a round of terrifying hisses and snap of jaws. He trampled along them like a comic book hero using the backs of crocodiles as stepping stones to cross a river. He kept going, praying he didn’t stumble, his bare foot landing on slimy bodies, his Zippo and can of DEET at the ready.

He rounded the corner of the U-shaped pit to be faced with a long stretch of slithering floor. A snake head popped up. He shrieked and sprayed it with fire. It whipped back down from where it came. Another instantly popped up like it was a game of Whac-A-Mole. Dom brought up his foot and slammed it down hard on its neck before it could strike. He then propelled himself off that one and used the momentum to scamper along the stretch of pit with big strides as if he was gearing up for a triple jump. He made sure to focus on his feet; a wrong landing and he could stumble and then it was all over. Agitated hisses went off behind him as he dashed through that corridor. Above him, Magdalena was loitering somewhere; he prayed he still had the element of surprise on her.

He made it near the end of the pit and he knew it was far enough. With a roar, he pushed his knees down and sprang off the pile of snakes like they were a trampoline. He threw his hands up, his determined focus on the ledge above him. He hooked his hands over it and grabbed on, anchoring himself to it. His chest hit the wall and he was briefly winded, but he knew he didn’t have time to falter; if he fell, it was snake time. They snapped the air by his feet as he pushed himself up and out of the pit with gritted teeth, every sinew he had left straining.