“Well, you were ahead when you motioned for me to follow you out of the camp. Why did you bring me out here, anyway?”
He looked around quickly, dark suspicion sweeping through him. A huge bulky form materialized from the haze, one he recognized instantly. The monster that had been tracking him for days. The monster that had taken all the other children. The demon. It stood not a dozen yards away, and he realized with sudden clarity what had happened.
The demon was a shape-shifter. It had lured them away from the others by pretending to be something it wasn’t, isolating them out on these flats in the midst of a concealing dust storm. It had deceived them as it must have deceived the other children—by assuming the form of someone they cared for. That was how it had gotten to Chalk, even though he had been warned of the danger, even though he knew what was out there. It had taken the shape of his best friend, Fixit, and drawn him out to be destroyed.
This time it had taken Hawk’s form, tricking Tessa into following it. It must have been its intention to kill her and leave her for him to discover. But having him follow Tessa, in turn, was an unexpected bonus. Now it could kill them both.
He was suddenly enraged all over again. All of those children had been lured to their deaths by false images of loved ones, of friends, of family. It was so hateful to him that for a moment he forgot his own peril and thought only of how much he would like to see the monster destroyed.
But he was carrying no weapons, and he knew already that even with his magic he was no match for this creature.
He took Tessa’s arm, pulling her to him, thinking they must run, must escape any way they could. Then he remembered. In his pocket was a pair of viper-pricks, each with enough lethal poison to kill a dozen Lizards. Would they do what was needed?
He would have to find out. He didn’t have any other choice. The creature was already advancing on him, taking a more solid shape as it came, the outline of its huge shoulders and arms, its massive chest, its great clawed hands solidifying against the wispy curtain of the blown dust. He could see the glint of its eyes from beneath the heavy bone of its flattened brow. It was staring at him with undisguised anticipation, eager for what it was about to do.
He backed away slowly, pulling Tessa with him, one hand groping in his pocket for the viper-pricks. He found them right away, and his fingers closed about one plastic sheath and began to draw it out. Then, impulsively, he let go and instead reached down hurriedly to touch the earth. If he could make himself blend with the land, could disappear into it as he had before, he could gain a small advantage. His magic had let him do this once; perhaps he could do so again. If the monster couldn’t see him, it couldn’t hurt him.
But he realized the flaw in his thinking almost immediately. Even if he could disguise himself, he could not disguise Tessa. The demon might not be able to find him, but it would still be able to find her. He saw the demon watching him, measuring his efforts with interest. He could tell what it was thinking. Unlike the last time, the demon was not confused. It had learned from that encounter. It knew he would not abandon the girl.
He straightened and continued backing away, his hand returning to his pocket and gripping the viper-prick anew. The demon continued to watch him, ambling ahead slowly, not bothering to try to close the gap between them just yet. It was playing with him, Hawk realized. It was enjoying this. It knew he was trapped and could not escape. It knew he could be killed at leisure and without interruption.
And Hawk knew, in turn, with a certainty that was chilling, that the viper-prick was useless.
The memory of his boyhood dream of the dark and malevolent presence he could not escape resurfaced, a wraith from a past that was all too uncertain, but felt real nevertheless. This creature, this monster was the embodiment of that dream; he had known as much at their first encounter. He had known, as well, that he had no defense against it. There were things in this world that were too much for you, no matter who or what you were. This creature was one. Hawk was born of magic, and he had magic at his command, but he was helpless here. He could feel it in a way that defied explanation, but was no less real. This demon was anathema, a force of nature he could not withstand, could not escape, and could not survive. He had a moment of regret that it was so, that all those who were depending on him would be let down, that his efforts to find the King of the Silver River had come to nothing. Disappointment washed through him.
I should have been smarter than this, he thought.
He stared into the eyes of the predator that had brought him to this end. By the time he decided that flight was his only option, fear generated by the creature’s terrible eyes had locked his legs in place and he could not move.