Vixen (23 page)

It’s made with rare elements. Eudora built it with the help of some people who aren’t even alive anymore.

The centrifuge is pretty much irreplaceable.

I’m listening closely, but at the same time I’m trying to decide what to do.

If the centrifuge is the heart, I could knock it out from here if I had a bow and arrow. I don’t, though. Just like with the bear in the forest, I’ll have to make do with what I have.

The bear almost killed me, though.

Let’s not think too long about that.

No, if I learned anything from my adventure with the bear, it’s that I shouldn’t try to throw my sword like a javelin. The knives at my ankles are much better suited to that purpose.

So, in theory, I could knock out the centrifuge—and by extension, the yagi operation—with one perfect knife toss.

My knife-throwing skills aside (I’m not bad, but I don’t know that I’m ready to bet my life on it) there’s just one problem with that plan.

Yes, we came here to destroy the yagi operation, but the
reason
we came here to destroy the yagi operation, was because my parents are trying to determine whether Ion can be trusted. If he destroys the yagi operation, we’ll know he’s on our side.

If not, well, there’s an unfortunate chance he may have been in league with Eudora all along, and this whole trip was a complicated scheme to lure me and possibly Rilla, and maybe even my mom and the other female dragons in our extended family, to come here. In which case, their plan is already working.

I don’t want Ion to be in league with Eudora. I want to believe he’s on our side. In fact, in my heart, I believe I can trust him. Unfortunately, my heart has been known to lead me into trouble, so maybe I should listen to my head for once.

Besides which, my parents won’t believe he’s on our side unless
he
fulfills his quest.

Until Ion makes some move to destroy what’s in the room below me, I shouldn’t trust him. Not with my life.

Hans has been rattling on, mostly in English with the occasional German or French phrase, so it’s been difficult to follow, but now he chuckles in a way that makes my spine crawl, and points upward.

I duck back out of sight. My heart stopped for a second, but I don’t think Hans was pointing to me. He’s down there talking about Donder and Blitzen, which I’m pretty sure are the names of two of Santa’s reindeer, which were named for the German words for…thunder and lightning.

The lightning rod farthest from me crackles with white lightening, and a boom echoes above my head, causing the air and everything around me to tremble.

Donder and Blitzen, indeed.

My favorite reindeer was Vixen.

I clutch the skylight frame and peek into the room below. Hans is chuckling and talking in an animated voice. He is way too happy.

Considering he’s our enemy, the fact that he’s happy is not a good sign.

Another bolt of lightning tickles the far lightning rod, sending white sparks shooting down its length. This time, I see similar arcs of light sparking in the room below, around the centrifuge, which is spinning far faster than before.

Piecing together what I heard of Wexler’s explanation, the lightning must be the power source that extracts the DNA from the cockroaches, or something like that. Anyway, Wexler’s thrilled about the storm.

Eudora looks pleased.

Ion, however, is pale. Is that a good sign? Maybe it’s a strong clue he’s not working with the two mad scientists. But at the same time, it’s not a promising indication of his likelihood to make it out of the laboratory alive.

I grab the knife at my ankle. One good toss, and I could end this.

But then what? My parents won’t know for sure Ion is on our side.

I
won’t know for sure.

Reluctantly, I stay my hand.

Come on, Ion, give me some sign that you’re on my side. Please.

Hans Wexler is still laughing that creepy laugh, and another boom of thunder, this one even closer, threatens to topple me from my perch. Happily, almost giddily, Hans crosses the room to another set of levers, these so large he has to throw his weight into them to get them to move.

For a second, I don’t understand what he’s up to. I’m mostly worried about the lightning snapping too close to me, and the thunder that’s shaking the whole mountain.

But then the last row of coffin-like tanks, the one with the most finished yagi, starts to slosh and splash.

It takes me a minute to realize what’s happening. Hydraulic lifts inside each tank push up the bodies, raising the yagi out of the water, tipping them headfirst out into the air and standing them upright on unsteady feet.

It’s a row of streaming-wet, brand-new yagi. Twenty four of them. For a moment, they stand still like models in a showroom.

Then the lightning crackles again, and they start to move.

The yagi lumber to life, staggering forth with stiff, unsteady movements. If this was some low-budget horror flick, I might be laughing at their ungainly attempts to walk. Unfortunately, I know what these creatures are capable of. They appearing to be growing more agile with every step.

Not that I’m even watching them anymore. Hans has grabbed an enormously thick chain that’s dangling from the ceiling. I can’t see the rest of it since it’s directly underneath me somewhere, but from the sound of it, the chain is attached to some kind of metal mechanism somewhere on the ceiling.

At the other end is a heavy-duty clamp thing.

Ion’s face goes even paler; an almost blue, ghostly white.

That clamp thing? I think it’s shackles.

Ion looks from the shackles to Hans to Eudora, and I realize the scene below me has gone from bad to worse. Ion’s not wearing any weapons—none at all, that I can see. What did Eudora tell him, to convince him he’d be okay going in like that?

Then again, I went to Ion’s place without any swords, so maybe she didn’t have to say much to convince him.

At least I have swords now.

Ion glances around the room again, and seems to take everything in with one sweeping glance. The lightning flickering between the roach tank and the centrifuge. The tanks—which are doing this freakish thing, where the second row has dumped its bodies into the tank in front of it, and the row behind that is dumping its bodies into the newly-emptied second row, and so on, I’m sure, until all the semi-yagi have been moved up a row.

Then there are the staggering yagi, and Eudora, who’s scampered around behind Hans like some scared, crouching bunny.

And Hans Wexler himself, swinging the shackles around like a lasso, laughing in a way that might ruin laughter for me forever.

Ion takes this all in with one sweeping glance, and then he changes into a dragon, bounding above the yagi as they stagger toward him.

Ion leaps toward the centrifuge, talons outstretched. For one relieved instant, I’m sure he’s going to shred it and prove his allegiance to me and to my family while simultaneously becoming the greatest hero of modern dragons.

But before he’s quite halfway there, Hans lets the shackles fly. They slap into Ion’s left leg and snap closed around his ankle.

Wexler’s laughter escalates. He’s obviously pleased with himself, and tugs on the chain like a fisherman reeling in a trophy catch. His face is turned upward now, and for the first time, I get a decent look at his face.

For all his evilness, he’s classically handsome, in a sort of Old Hollywood leading actor sort of way. I can see how Eudora could have fallen for him years ago. They probably made a beautiful couple, with her screen star good looks.

At the other end of Wexler’s line, Ion’s leg shrivels back to human size.

The rest of his body follows.

It’s the magnetism, isn’t it? It doesn’t just keep a dragons from assuming dragon form—it actually forces them back into human shape.

As soon as his face is human, Ion asks, “What are you doing?”

“I could ask the same of you, not that it matters any more what you
thought
you were going to do. You’ve got one choice before you. Either cooperate and come with me, or fight my soldiers.”

A blast of thunder rattles the skylight panes all around me, as though to punctuate the dreadfulness of either choice.

Ion doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll take my chances with your soldiers.”

“Are you sure? That’s really not the best choice.” Hans sounds disappointed.

“I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself.” Wexler steps back against the wall, but doesn’t leave the room.

I watch, hoping he’ll leave and give me an opportunity to jump down there and rescue Ion, and maybe even destroy the centrifuge while we make our escape. But Wexler obviously wants to stick around for the show. Which means if I try to help Ion, I’m sure to be discovered.

But what other choice is there? Ion tried to shred the centrifuge. That means he’s on my side. Didn’t he already tell me he was?

I will destroy the yagi, or die trying
.

Why do I get the terrible feeling it’s going to be the latter of those two options?

The yagi stagger toward Ion. Having arrived in dragon form with no weapons on his back, he has nothing to work with. He’s completely defenseless, clad only in his shorts.

Well, maybe not completely defenseless. As the first of the yagi come at him, Ion reaches down and picks up the heavy chain that dangles from his leg. He whips the solid metal at the creatures.

Two fall, their heads dented.

A third stumbles over his fallen comrades, but quickly rights himself.

Okay, two down, twenty-two to go. Not great odds, but it’s something.

I’m frantically trying to think what I could possibly do to help that wouldn’t end up making matters worse. If I drop through this skylight, I’ve got to have a solid plan for getting back out again. Because if I don’t come out within a reasonable length of time, Rilla might try to come in after me.

I look back through the swirling snow at the ledge where my sister is perched. I can’t see her face too clearly on account of the blasting precipitation all around, but between blasts of snow I see enough to know she looks concerned.

I have no way of sending her a message, other than to wave my arms and tell her to come pick me up.

That’s the last message I want to send, unless I figure out a way to get Ion out of the laboratory. I keep my arms still.

More yagi lumber toward Ion. He whips the chain again and again. Three more fall.

“Oh, you want to play it that way, do you?” Hans doesn’t sound so amused any more. “We’ll see how you like this.” He slinks along the wall toward a set of levers, and throws his weight into one, pulling it slowly down.

A ratcheting noise echoes through the room.

The chain is tightening. Something on the ceiling is winding up the chain like a spool of thread.

With every click of the crank above, Ion has less chain to play with. In order to have enough length to whip, he’ll have to move closer to the yagi.

Dangerously close.

I’d drop down there and help him, but what can I do? He’s chained to the wall. Unless I think I actually have a shot at unlocking the shackles, I won’t be any use to him. Even if I somehow broke the chain, the shackles are obviously the magnetized kind that bind the iron in his body, preventing him from taking on his dragon form.

As long as that shackle is on his ankle, he can’t turn into a dragon to escape.

Ion must have realized, as I did, that the shortened chain is growing increasingly useless. In an attempt to make the most of what he has before the whole length of it is ratcheted away, Ion shuffles forward, whipping the chain more frantically.

I’ve lost count of the fallen yagi. Seven, eight, maybe nine? Fewer than half are down. Something like two-thirds still remain.

Even as I’m trying to count the fallen yagi among their staggering comrades, Hans sucks in a breath and turns to Eudora. “I know why this dragon looks familiar. It’s the neighbor boy from Siberia, isn’t it? All grown up? Didn’t I kill him once before?”

“Almost.” Eudora laughs her cackling laugh. “I wondered if you’d recognize him.”

“But his parents—” Hans clamps his mouth shut, but he looks behind him, at the door.

Ion glances back, his attention distracted when Hans said “his parents.”

What about Ion’s parents? If I understood Ion’s stories correctly, they died the night the Romonovs were executed.

Didn’t they?

Ion was never able to give a clear account of what happened that night, because he spent so much of it unconscious. He didn’t even know how he escaped until Eudora told him.

The chain is shrinking ever shorter.

Ion leaps up and grabs the chain, climbing up until he’s a good ten feet off the ground, straight above the heads of the yagi. From that position, he’s able to dangle the drooping chain below him, close to the heads of the yagi.

He loops the chain around one mutant’s shoulders. He jerks the chain up, tightening the noose, popping off the yagi’s head. That neck joint is their weakest point—we’ve always known that. Good of Ion to use it to his advantage.

One more down. He’s not going to have time to kill very many this way, but you’ve got to give him points for trying.

“You’re doing better than I thought you’d do,” Hans admits, but he doesn’t sound impressed. He sound furious.

“Maybe you need to come up here and stop me?”

“No, no, I don’t believe that would be wise.” Hans is purposely staying close to the wall, out of the way of the yagi staggering about.

Eudora asks him a question. Her voice is softer, difficult to hear over the ratcheting chain and ambient thunder, but I think she may have asked something about the yagi, whether he programs them to leave him alone.

If that’s what she asked, then his answer makes sense. “Always, but not until they’re dry.”

If I understood correctly, Hans has just revealed a possible weakness. If the cyborg yagi don’t get programmed to avoid him until after they’re dry, then this dripping fresh batch could conceivably attack him—if they weren’t distracted with Ion.

While Ion flicks the chain and decapitates his next victim, Hans makes a disgruntled sound in this throat and picks up a second shackle.

This one, for whatever reason, is locked shut.

Hans pulls a key from his pocket and uses it to unlock the shackle, opening it wide.

In an instant, I realize what’s possible.

Hans has a vulnerability—he can’t get too close to the yagi.

And he has a key to the shackles. He also has swords at his back and his hips, and probably various other weapons on his person, just as I do.

He’s not exactly a safe guy to approach.

But neither is he invincible. If I can get close enough to him to steal the key, I could free Ion and he could fly out of here with me. Hans would have to stay out of the way of the yagi, possibly giving me enough time to reach Ion and undo his shackle.

Ion will have to bust out the skylight to fit through in dragon form, but he could make it.

It’s a slim chance, but it’s still a chance.

And if it’s going to work, I’ll have to act quickly. The only advantage I have is that no one realizes I’m here. Once I act, that advantage will be gone, so I have to make the most of it.

An especially loud boom of thunder echoes all around. Knowing it might distract those below, I take the opening—the best I’ll get.

I clutch the sill of the skylight and swing down, aiming my feet at a couple of staggering yagi before letting go. I’m wearing my yagi-kicking boots, so I might as well make use of them.

Another sharp blast of lightning zings from the rods above, crackling the centrifuge and sending it spinning ever faster.

At the same instant, my boots hit the yagi, knocking them over, sending them sprawling flat, skidding across the wet floor toward Hans, who, by the look on his face, is sincerely surprised.

I’m sort of surfing on the backs of the skidding yagi, only not very gracefully. Still, I’m upright. I have enough control over my body to draw a sword from the double-baldric at my back.

The floor is wetter than I’d realized. Either that, or fresh yagi exoskeletons function like a well-waxed surfboard, because I slam into Wexler with way more force than I’d intended. My sword is flat, sandwiched between us (yeah, maybe I could have had it turned the other way, but I’d have been just as likely to cut myself then—too risky).

The room is still crazy crackling with lightning, since my entire skidding routine took all of about half a second and that was a particularly enormous blast. Hans Wexler looks equal parts stunned and furious, but he may have head a head start on the furious.

With my right hand holding the sword tight between us, I reach with my left for the key.

Wexler grips it tightly, like he knows that’s what I’m after.

I lean back from him, pushing off with my sword arm, effectively ramming the blade against his suit front.

The eye-stinging yagi-stench is even worse down here, and I can barely see what I’m doing. Also, that lightning crackling thing is making the air spark like static electricity. I’m not even going to imagine what my hair must be doing right now.

Whether it’s his concern over the blade at his chest, or something about the crackle of electricity between us (my sword might be conducting energy from the air into Wexler’s chest, much like a defibrillator, but I’m not entirely sure. I still have my leather gloves on.). His fingers sort of spasm and flinch. He’s trying to hold tight to the keys, but he can’t keep me from pulling them out of his hand.

The moment I have hold of them I whip around, blink away the yagi sting from my eyes, and spot Ion ratcheting ever closer to a giant cogged wheel on the ceiling.

Is it just me, or is he on his way to getting caught in the cogs and crunched like road kill? I don’t have time to try to reach him with the keys, not at the rate that chain is tightening.