“Yes, Alpha,” Desandra said.
“Very well. I will—” Robert stopped and wrinkled his nose. Desandra inhaled sharply. Something clearly didn’t smell right.
I glanced back. Ascanio and Derek sped up, closing in. Robert had a look of intense concentration on his face. I felt it too, that alarming feeling of something behind you watching closely, waiting for you to stumble so it can leap on your back and sink its sharp, cold teeth into the nape of your neck. I could feel the gaze on my back and I knew if I turned around, I’d see nothing, just the shadows between the glass cliffs. But something watched me. Something was there.
Derek fell in next to me and turned around. I followed his gaze. Four eyes ignited in the shadows, one pair right inside the other, bright, electric turquoise about four feet off the ground. The eyes shone once and vanished behind the slanted glass iceberg.
We slowed down to a walk, falling into formation: Derek and I in front, Robert and Ascanio on the sides, and Desandra guarding the rear. If you ran, predators would chase. We wouldn’t be running.
Another set of four eyes flashed at us from the left, reflecting in the glass for half a second before melting into nothing.
“They’re herding us,” Desandra said.
Ahead three sets of twin pairs of eyes materialized from the gloom. They were trying to make us turn right. I pulled Slayer from the sheath.
Three squat, wide-chested shapes congealed from the gloom and moved into the light, step by step. About the size of a small calf, they stood on six muscled limbs. Their limbs ended in handlike paws with agile fingers, each tipped by a short curved claw. Pale hide sheathed their bodies, except for their spine and chest, where bony plates formed a protective carapace. Their jaws were massive, their teeth sharp, and they looked at the world with four eyes, nestled in two rows on their heads.
“I fought these before with Andrea,” Ascanio reported. “These are just pups. Their mother was huge.”
Awesome. “Can any of you see the tails? Are they segmented like that of a scorpion?” Six legs was a dead giveaway. Not that many creatures had six limbs, but I wanted to be sure.
“Yes,” Robert confirmed from the side.
“It’s a tarasque. It comes from the south of France, grows to an enormous size, and it’s supposed to breathe fire.”
Also according to the legends, a tarasque was a dragon. These guys looked more like cats who’d somehow sprouted rhino-like armor, but who was I to complain?
“How did the French kill it?” Derek asked.
“They sent a Christian virgin out, and she bound it with her hair and led it back into the city, where the citizens slaughtered it. We don’t have a virgin handy.”
“No shit,” Desandra said.
The central monster bared her teeth. They were thick, sharp, and crooked.
“Quick, Derek, it’s your chance to shine,” Ascanio said.
Derek gave him a withering look.
“Desandra is a mother, Robert is married, Kate’s affianced, and I’m an old soul. You’re the closest thing to a virgin we’ve got. Get on with growing some flowing locks.”
Robert laughed. The sound was so unexpected, I almost jumped. In all the time I’d interacted with him, a careful smile was as far as he got.
“I’m going to hurt you after this,” Derek promised.
Ascanio grinned. “Hey, I just assumed you were saving yourself for marriage, my mistake.”
Robert pulled two sets of steel knuckles from the inside of his suit. A long curved blade ran the length of the knuckles. Nice. On my right, Ascanio tossed his hair back and retrieved a short sword from his leather jacket. The blade was fifteen inches long and at least two and a half inches wide, single-edge, with a profile that looked almost like an overgrown kitchen knife but with a simple, saber-style cross guard. Ascanio reached for the hilt with his left hand and plucked another sword from the first. Baat Jaam Do. Butterfly swords. Handling two swords took a lot of practice. Well. Interesting.
Three tarasques emerged from the left, two from the right.
“We have two behind us,” Desandra reported.
We were surrounded.
The thick front limbs of the tarasques tensed. Nostrils flared, sending clouds of vapor into the cold night. The tails curved upward, flapping back and forth.
I turned my sword, warming up my wrist.
Monstrous lips stretched. Wicked teeth bit the air.
“Let’s go!” I barked. “I’m bored.”
The beasts scuttled forward like giant cockroaches, moving with an odd gait, lifting the front and back leg on one side and the middle one on the other. The largest of the three beasts hooted like an owl. He was almost to me. In my mind I stepped to the side, swung, and sliced across its neck in a classic diagonal blow. The saber glanced off the carapace. No good.
Ten feet. Stand still.
Five . . .
The beast lunged at me. I dodged left. Wicked teeth snapped half an inch from my arm and I stabbed Slayer into the creature’s pale side. My enchanted blade ripped through flesh and sinew. Dark rust-colored blood spilled out from the wound and washed over the beast’s gray side.
To the left, Derek yanked a tarasque out of the air, flipped it on its back, and chopped its throat with his axe. To the right Ascanio spun in place, slicing at the beasts, his swords spinning in a familiar horizontal figure eight pattern . . . He was trying to use my butterfly technique. It was not awful. His feet were off, and he was leaning forward too much, but it wasn’t awful. I had no idea where he’d learned it.
If we lived through this little adventure from hell, I’d have to correct his form before it was too late.
A familiar sickening magic washed over my mind. Just what we needed. “Vampires. Incoming.”
The tarasque lunged at me and I sliced across its nose.
“How many?” Robert asked.
My tarasque screamed and fled.
“Two. They’re heading this way, fast.”
We had to finish the fight now. If we bled, it would be all over. A vampire was like a shark—a single drop of human blood would pull it from a mile away like a magnet.
The second beast attacked me from the right. I slashed the side of its throat. It crashed down and I stabbed Slayer into its left top eye socket.
Desandra spat some word I didn’t understand. A pale body flew above us through the air, crashed against a glass iceberg with a sickening crunch, slid down, and lay still, its six legs limp. Wow. Behind me a wet hacking noise announced someone cleaving through flesh.
The two revolting sparks of undead minds drew closer.
“A thousand feet,” I whispered. “Coming on the left. They’ll see us.”
A tarasque the size of a horse shot out of the darkness and leaped at us, six legs in the air. I stepped aside. That’s the problem with jumping. Once you went airborne, there wasn’t much you could do about changing where you landed. The beast fell right between us. I lunged on top of it and sank my sword between its ribs. The claws raked my steel-toed boot, ripping through duct tape and gouging the reinforced leather.
Derek cleaved the beast’s skull with his tomahawk, grabbed the twitching body, and hurled it to my right, into the shadows. Desandra grabbed another and threw it into the dark. Bodies flew around me. A moment and all corpses were gone.
“Five hundred feet,” I whispered.
Robert turned. A streak of red slid down his fingers from a small cut on his hand. Shit.
The vamps accelerated.
He stuck his fingers in his mouth. The cut on his hand knitted closed—Lyc-V scrambling to make repairs.