“This is all incredibly asinine,” Lieutenant Lawrence said.
She scored a perfect shot in the metal monster’s mouth. Bellowing in anger, it hurled a boulder at us. Captain Somerset managed to swerve to the side in time. Barely.
The monster’s next step was a misstep. Lieutenant Lawrence’s bullet must have hit something important inside of its body. Smoke began to rise from its ears. That was Claudia’s signal to let loose with the cannon.
“Beautiful,” Morrows said in appreciation as flaming metal chunks fell from the sky.
Another two metal monsters burst out of the woods, throwing trees and rocks at us. They seemed to be spawning from the plains tonight, rising from the broken shards of fallen cities. At least these new fiends were smaller than the previous ones, less than half the size of the giants. Claudia used the cannon to blast a leg off of the first. The corrosive bullet I shot at the second monster melted its feet to the cracked asphalt road.
“Take that, you oversized walking trashcan!” I laughed.
“You know what the colonel says. If you can laugh, you’re not working hard enough.” Captain Somerset was laughing too, though.
“I follow a very different philosophy,” I replied. “If you aren’t laughing, you’re not having nearly enough fun. And you should think about a new line of work. I could see Nero as a male model. Or maybe a driving instructor.”
“You’re joking,” Captain Somerset said, speeding up as another two mini-giants saw us.
“What gave it away?”
“I know you’ve been in a car with him when he was behind the wheel.”
She swerved to the right to avoid a monster, then took a sharp left to avoid the other. The truck spilled over the edge of the road and rolled down the lumpy landscape.
“You’re one to talk,” I said.
“If my hands weren’t busy, I’d slap you for insubordination,” she told me, grinning.
“Nero is actually a good driver. He just drives at least a hundred miles per hour too fast. Maybe he should be a race car driver.”
The two monsters sank into a bog of bubbling black fluid, and Captain Somerset drove back up onto the road. “I’ll be sure to tell him to go to you for career advice.”
I looked across the plains. Nero was way ahead of us, a shadow in the sky. I couldn’t see what monsters he was fighting, but whatever they were, they weren’t faring well. Fire rained down from him like bombs falling out of a plane, exploding on the monsters.
“But I guess you don’t need me to talk to Nero,” Captain Somerset said. “You two are quite chatty. First on the train, and then your date. How was the date, by the way?”
I wasn’t surprised she knew. She must have seen us go off together. Or heard us talking before we left the temple. Supernatural senses could penetrate walls, which was why the walls at the Legion office in New York were so thick.
“It was short,” I told her. Too short.
“There won’t always be an emergency.”
I saw something in her eyes, something I couldn’t decipher. Humor? A challenge? A dare?
We continued to drive at top speed across the Black Plains. Maybe Captain Somerset should think about race car driving. She drove the big, top-heavy truck like it was a sports car.
The Lost City loomed in front of us, its ruined walls aglow with moonlight. We parked at the edge of the city, right next to the other truck. At least that meant the Pilgrims had made it across the plains without being eaten. Never underestimate the power of dumb luck. I’d been saved by that special mysterious power more than once in my life.
We moved quickly across the city. Having walked these rickety bridges and decayed buildings just hours ago, the path was familiar. We knew the ups and downs, the craters and missteps. But the Lost City was different at night, just like the Black Plains that surrounded it. We came upon a street frozen over in black ice. No, not ice. It was the road itself that shone with that eerie darkness, as though magic had warped its physical properties. Who knew what else magic had warped around here.
“We’ll go around,” Captain Somerset decided.
We cut around the black ice street, heading for the chasm that led to the sunken city sections. Nero flew down, and we followed slowly, restricted to ropes. A pair of wings sure would have come in handy.
The voices of battle rang in my ears, growing louder the deeper I descended. Before I’d left New York, Jace had told me the phantoms of the past still lingered in the Lost City, waiting to be released.
I wasn’t sure I believed any of that. The voices didn’t feel like spirits or phantoms. They felt like memories. The question was whose memories they were. And why I was hearing them when no one else could.
“This place is even creepier at night,” Drake said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, putting up a mental shield to block the voices in my head.
Passing the Spiral Tower, we walked through the thick carpet of dead snap dragons that covered the street. We traveled deeper into the sunken city. Water dripped down the walls, a hollow, rhythmic echo. It popped over the low hum of distant voices. And these voices weren’t just in my head.
“It’s Nero,” I said, recognizing his voice.
“You can distinguish his voice from here?” Captain Somerset asked.
“Yes.”
Her brows drew together. “How about the others?”
“I…” I listened as we continued moving toward the voices. “Nero is ordering them to leave. He sounds mildly annoyed, so I’m guessing he’s talking to the Pilgrims, not the man in the hood.”
“…can’t refuse…gods’ orders…isn’t up for debate…I am in command here, not you.”
I could see Nero now. He stood facing Valiant and the other two missing Pilgrims—and he looked just as happy as he sounded.
“We are not abandoning our search. The hooded bandit is still out there, looking for the Lost Relics.” Valin waved his hand to indicate the underground city.
“You don’t know that,” Nero told him.
“Why else would he steal my notebook? No, Colonel. We’re staying right here. You might as well make yourselves useful since you’re here anyway.”
Nero looked like he’d just exhausted his supply of patience for the year. “I’m going to make this easy for you. You can either leave willingly, or I can carry you out and tie you all to the top of the trucks. That will give you front row seats to the monster attacks during our return trip to Purgatory.”
Valiant’s companions paled, but Valiant himself just planted his feet in deeper. “You wouldn’t dare treat holy Pilgrims in such a manner. We are the voice of the gods.”
“You might be the voice of the gods, but I am the hand of the gods. And I am fully prepared to use that hand to knock you on your ass.”
“You’re bluffing.”