“Yes?”
Mary’s phone began to vibrate in the pocket of the coat she still hadn’t taken off—and she was tempted to let whoever it was go to voice mail. But with what the Brothers were doing tonight with that huge attack?
As she took her cell out and saw who it was, she thought, oh, God. “Butch? Hello?”
There was interference over the connection. Wind? Voices?
“Hello,” she said more loudly.
“—coming to get you.”
“What?” She rose from her chair. “What are you saying?”
“Fritz,” the Brother shouted. “Coming for you! We need you out here!”
She cursed. “How bad?”
“Out of control.”
“Crap,” she breathed. “I’ll drive out myself. Save time.”
There were a series of pops, some cursing, and then distortion like Butch was running. “—text you location. Hurry!”
As the connection got cut off, she looked down at the girl and tried not to sound as panicked as she was. “Bitty, I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
Those pale brown eyes lifted to hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just … I’m going to grab Rhym for you. She’ll sit here and maybe you two can have dessert?”
“I’m fine. I’m going to go up and pack so I’m ready for uncle.”
Mary shook her head. “Bitty, before you do that, maybe you and I should try to find him first?”
“It’s all right. He knows about me.”
Steadying breath. For so many reasons. “I’ll stop by later and see how you’re doing.”
“Thank you for the soup.”
As the girl resumed eating, she didn’t seem to care who was around or not around her—as usual. And it was with a pounding headache that Mary went in fast search of the intake supervisor, who was doing double duty as on-site personnel because one of the other social workers was out on maternity leave. After explaining to Rhym everything that had happened, Mary took off at a run, leaving the house and jumping into the Volvo.
The former Brownswick School for Girls was about a ten-minute drive away. She made it in seven, shooting down back roads, dodging around suburban developments, blowing through orange lights and stop signs. The station wagon was not built for that kind of workout, the boxy, heavy weight lurching this way and that, but she didn’t care. And holy crap, it felt like forever before she got to the outer edges of the neglected campus.
Getting out her phone, she eased off the gas and went into her texts.
Reading aloud, she said, “‘Bypass main gates … go around—shit!”
Something shot out into the road, the figure moving rag-doll sloppy and tripping directly in front of her car. Slamming on the brakes, she hit the man—no, it was a slayer: The blood that speckled across the windshield was black as ink, and the thing took off once more, even though one of its legs looked broken.
Heart pounding, she swallowed and punched the gas again, afraid there were others behind it, but even more terrified by whatever was happening with Rhage. Rechecking her cell, she followed the directions around to the back side of the school, to a one-laner that took her into the shaggy mess of a landscape.
Just as she wondered where the hell she was supposed to go from there, the question was answered. Off across a meadow, the beast stood out among the abandoned buildings like something out of a SyFy Channel movie. Tall enough to reach the roofs, big enough to dwarf even a dormitory, mean as a tiger teased with a meal, the thing was in full attack mode.
Tearing off the roof of a shed with its teeth.
She didn’t bother killing the engine.
Mary threw the Volvo in park and leaped out. In the back of her mind, she was aware that the uneven bap-bap-bap in the background was bullets flying, but she wasn’t going to worry about that. What she was panicked about?
Whoever the hell was in that building.
As she ran toward the dragon, she put two fingers in her mouth and blew hard.
The whistle was high-pitched, loud as a scream—and made no impression at all as the shingles of the brick structure got spit out to one side.
The roar that followed was something she knew all too well. The beast was ready for his Happy Meal, and that whole rafter-relocation thing was its way of getting into the container.
Mary tripped over something—oh, God, it was a lesser that was missing an arm—and kept going, blowing another whistle. And a third—
The beast froze, its flanks pumping in and out, purple scales flashing in the darkness as if the thing were lit from within by an electrical source.
The fourth whistle brought its head around.
Slowing her run, Mary cupped her hands to her mouth. “Come here! Come on, boy!”
Like the beast was just the world’s largest dog.
The dragon let out a chuff and then blew through its nostrils, the sound something between a whoopee cushion and a jet engine taking off.
“Come here, you!” she said. “Leave that alone. It’s not yours.”
The beast looked back at what was now just four brick walls and not much else, and a snarl curled its black lip off jagged teeth that would have given a great white dental insecurity. But like a German shepherd called to heel by its trainer, Rhage’s curse turned away from its deconstruction job and bounded over to her.
As the dragon came through the weeds and brambles, its great weight shook the ground so badly, Mary had to put her arms out for balance.
But, impossible though it seemed, the thing was smiling at her, its gruesome face transformed by a joy that she wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it every time she was around the monster.
Stretching her hands up, she greeted that great, dropped head with soft words of praise, putting her palm on its circular cheek, letting it breathe in her scent and hear her voice. In her peripheral vision, she saw two people break out of the ruined building—make that one person who was able-bodied and running hard, and another who was up on a strong shoulder, obviously injured.
She didn’t dare look directly at them to see who it was. Their best chance was her connection with the curse—and it was strange. As ugly as the thing was, as terrifying and deadly as it could be … she felt an abiding love warm her body. Her Rhage was in there somewhere, trapped under the layers of muscle and scales and third-party cognition, but more than that, she adored the beast as well—
The shots came from the right, and on instinct, she shouted and ducked to cover her head.
The dragon took over from there, wheeling toward the shooters at the same time it managed to wrap its tail around Mary and tuck her in against its flank. And then they were on the move. The ride was a rough one, like a mechanical bull suffering from power surges, and she held on to one of the larger barbs for dear life.
Thank God for that bony protrusion. Because what happened next involved a whole lot of “Twist and Shout.”
First there were screams. Terrible, nightmare screams that she would have covered her ears to block out—except she didn’t dare let go and risk getting thrown free—
Up and over.
A slayer, which was leaking like a sieve, went flying over the beast’s back, and black blood hit Mary like bad-stench rain. The thing landed in a broken heap—and the chaser that followed, a second lesser that was likewise over-the-shouldered, hit the first like a boulder.
Oh … look. No head. Wonder where that—
Something that was vaguely round and had a face on one side and a thatch of blond hair on the other basketballed across the long grass that had been flattened under the dragon’s enormous hind feet … paws … claws … whatever.