“Let me go, you crazy bastard!” she yelled, punching up at his arms, arms much stronger than she’d ever thought possible.
Her heels were raw from digging into the roof’s shingles to thwart Avis, on fire by the time he lobbed her at the base of the spire.
But Avis was determined, crazed with strength and tenacity. Gripping either side of her sweater, his eyes glazed with his victory, he yelled over the roar of the inferno. “This is it, Poppet! The time is here!”
Her eyes flew upward even though she wanted to hide them; they were forcefully drawn to the screech of something, a screech laced with tormented rage.
Holy, holy hell. This must be what he was sacrificing her to. This mottled, horned, winged monster, clinging to the front of the spire by his clawed toes.
Poppy! Use what’s inside you. Use it now!
“Use what?” she screamed out in frustration as sweat poured into her eyes, her throat raw and aching, her ribs burning with white-hot ripples of pain. “What do you want me to use?”
But she didn’t hear the answer as Avis rose up, his eyes aglow, his hands raised to the sky. “This is my sacrifice! Take her!”
With those words, the demon swooped down, his wings flapping in graceful slashes of air, and snatched her up.
“Popppyyy!” She heard a stilted cry just as she was lifted from the ground. “No, Popp-yyy!”
Carl? Oh my God, was that Carl?
“Get out, Carl!” she heard herself scream. “Run, Carl, run!”
The moment she felt the claws of the demon sink into her arms, she caught a glimpse of yellow, a thick thread of light, zigzagging across the sky and zapping the demon.
“I will fuck you up!” Nina roared, her wand high in the air.
Marty and Wanda stood behind January, as though bracing her, and then her wand was flashing colors, shooting a cannonball of flames at the demon as she snapped backward against the women, falling against them from the force of her wand’s magic.
The demon’s scream ripped through the night, bellowing his anguish at the hit, but still he climbed higher, using his wings as leverage, pumping the air.
Use what’s inside, Poppy! Fight your fear and use what’s inside!
What was inside? For the love of fuck—why was everything so damn cryptic?
Her terror took hold, threatening to make her pass out until she saw movement from the corner of the spire.
Spears of flames and spewing embers in purple and orange fell to the ground; pieces of the stone began to fall away, and in the middle of it all?
Carl.
Climbing his way up the side of the spire.
Chapter 21
How had he slipped past them? How had he managed to make his way up all those stairs without any of them seeing him?
“Carl!” Poppy screamed, twisting in the demon’s grip. “No, Carl, no!”
But Carl wasn’t listening. Somehow, in his stiff-limbed, duct-taped-together determination, he was attempting to rescue her.
She knew in his mind, he was only being valiant and kind. He was Robin Hood, climbing the castle wall to save Maid Marian.
A whole new kind of panicked terror swept through her when she realized she was helpless—until she heard Rick yell, “Poppy! Use your hands, I’ll recite the spell! We’ll do this together! On three!”
Use her hands? Because that had worked before? This man was as crazy as a bedbug. What the hell good were…
Her hands plus his magic! They were fated. January had said so. Poppy didn’t know if she was supposed to say something when she did it or even what exactly she was supposed to do with her hands, but she pictured the moment she’d turned Rick to stone and struggled over the roar of the wind to listen for three.
“One! Two! Three!”
Throwing her hands up in an awkward, unsure gesture, Poppy hollered out, “Take that!”
Miraculously, there was a rumble of discontent and then a piercing screech of anger when the demon loosened its grip, throwing her toward the side of the spire, which was when she remembered Carl.
“Caaaarl!” she cried on her way down, but she realized when she hit the rooftop, she’d done something stupid—alerted the demon to Carl.
The demon didn’t care whose soul he dined on for lunch—just that he dined.
His bulbous eyes did, in fact, turn to Carl, who clung to the side of the spire with cracking hands. Whatever strength she thought was long gone, whatever last ounce of energy she thought she’d used up, didn’t compare to the adrenaline rush of fear as she watched the demon set his sights on Carl.
Poppy didn’t think about her ribs or her feet or anything but getting to Carl. Darnell was beside her in a heartbeat as Rick came up from the rear, but she didn’t hear their protests, she made a run for the spire, dodging spitting flames. Spotting the first available notch in the stone’s carvings and jamming her toe into it, she reached upward and felt for another, and another, pulling her way up, her jaw clenched, her face drenched in sweat.