There was tense silence for several seconds, and then the machine up above us clicked off with a buzz. The light from the mechanical rose faded and the mechanism lowered. The fallen fairy army did not rise, although I could see signs of breathing from a few of the limp bodies. From high in the tower of floating rubble, the Dire King was watching.
“He’s bluffing,” snarled the owl woman. “Someone collect those humans. We’re going through.”
The horde stirred. Loup bared his fangs in a wicked grin.
“Stop.” The voice that issued from atop the tower keep was deep and carried a note of finality.
The Unseelie army stopped. I breathed. It had worked. It should not have worked, but it had worked! We were safe, however fleetingly, poised in the eye of a hurricane. And then the Dire King spoke again.
“Kill the girl.”
Almost at once, the throng leapt to obey the command. I scarcely had time to understand what he had said when a spiral-tipped javelin flew out of the crowd. Its aim was true—it soared straight for my chest. Too late, I ducked away. I heard a horrified gasp from the crowd, followed by a deafening silence. I peered out from behind my own hands.
Jackaby had stepped in the way of the javelin.
A jagged, twisted point entered his chest and emerged from the middle of his back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Huh.” Jackaby looked down at the javelin lodged in his chest. He took hold of the shaft in both hands and pulled. The barb slid free with a nauseating sucking sound.
“S-s-sir?” I managed.
“Huh,” said Jackaby, almost to himself. “Ha! Oh! Yes, right.” He dropped the bloody weapon to the ground. “They can’t kill me!”
Jackaby pulled open his shirt front and prodded the spot where the javelin had entered, just left of his clavicle. He wiped the blood away, and aside from a small circle of young, fresh skin, he had not a mark on him. The gem. I had forgotten about Hafgan’s shield!
“Well. All right.” Jackaby addressed the crowd again. “That changes the dynamic a bit, admittedly. But I can work with this. I appear to be immortal now. So there’s that. The invasion is still off. You can’t beat me. Couldn’t kill me if you tried.”
The Unseelie army was now abuzz with noise.
“Kill the girl,” the deep voice repeated, echoing over the susurration of the horde, “and tear the Seer’s limbs from his body. Don’t be gentle. Death is no longer a risk, it seems. Bring whatever is left to me.”
“I don’t like that, sir,” I said. The crowd swelled forward, all teeth and talons.
“Nor I. New plan,” said Jackaby. “Run!”
He threw himself at me, grabbing my arm, and we tumbled backward through the rend. We hit the stones of the old church and rolled. Loup, the big bad wolf, was only a moment behind us. His sharp claws clicked and scraped the floor as he landed. I scrambled to get away, crawling for cover beneath the nearest pew. The owl woman swooped over me and the huge red imp was cackling savagely nearby. More monsters were piling through, like an unthinkably evil pot boiling over. I was scrambling across the cold floor, my heart thudding against my ribs, when a shot rang out like a cannon. The owl woman spun out of the air with a shriek and slammed against the altar.
“Sweet sassy molasses—that’s a lotta ugly!” boomed a familiar voice. Hank Hudson unloaded a second loud shot, this time into the imp’s face, and then tossed the pistol aside, pulling a fresh one from a bandolier across his chest. “Hey, everybody! In here!” he bellowed. “Looks like the war’s on!”
From where I was crouched, half-hidden beneath the church bench, I heard a rapid pattering of footsteps from the front of the chapel, and then a mob of gray-green feet burst into my range of vision. They leapt up, swarming the giant wolf with almost gleeful whooping war cries. Loup howled in fury as half a dozen goblins attached themselves to his fur, pulling and stabbing and kicking furiously. Someone grabbed me by the wrist and I jolted, spinning around. “It’s me,” Jackaby said. “Come on!”
We raced past the broken cross and over the fallen bricks. Hudson had spent two more pistols, but he was in his element. He had another gun in his hands already and a pair of rifles strapped to his back, as well as an assortment of sharp knives and hatchets hanging from his belt for the moment his ammunition ran low.
A pair of centaurs vaulted over the broken wall just ahead of us, and I pulled Jackaby aside before their sharp hooves clattered down. The centaurs launched themselves into the battle, swiping with long spears and driving bone-crushing kicks into the monsters. I stumbled over the wall and out into daylight.
There, in the churchyard, was a glorious sight: pixies and spriggans and gnomes and goblins, Nudd shouting commands and cursing colorfully, bird-headed women and woman-headed birds, a man of living fire, and a smiling giant towering over the company. A battery of New Fiddleham police officers, along with Commissioner Marlowe and even Mayor Spade himself, fought with gusto. At the head of the field of uniforms stood Charlie Barker and, floating beside him, Jenny Cavanaugh.
Jenny spotted us, and her face burst into unmasked relief. She swept across the field and met me halfway with a firm embrace. Jenny felt solid. She also felt as cold as ice—but she felt solid, and as I threw my arms around her, I cried with unexpected happiness in the midst of all the horrors around us.
“You brought them? Oh, Jenny! We didn’t even know if you—” I began.
“I thought for sure that you—” she started.
An arrow hit the ground beside us.
“Hurry, come on,” she said, releasing me. She reached for Jackaby’s hand to pull him along, too, but her fingers passed through his like vapor. Her face fell. She tried to hide it as she sallied on. “Come. Out of the line of fire!”
Even as she said it, a hulking gargantuan covered in scales crashed through the wall of the church and bounded out into the open in front of us. His skin was like a crocodile’s, but he ran more like an orangutan, bounding forward using his legs and arms, balancing his weight on his meaty knuckles. He saw the phalanx of police officers and grinned hungrily. Those in the group who didn’t scatter at his approach opened fire, smoke from their pistols rising thick over their heads—but the monster shrugged off the shots like they were pebbles. With a swipe of his gnarled hand, he sent one of the officers flying. The man landed on his back and did not get up. Mayor Spade stumbled backward, tripping over Lieutenant Dupin near the front of the formation and sending them both falling to the ground. Before the scaly colossus could take his next swipe, Chief Nudd screamed out a command, and a goblin swarm leapt onto the monster, scrambling onto its head and jabbing at its eyes.
The scaly monster threw the goblins off one at a time, but the distraction had been enough. In two strides, Mr. Dawl, our giant, was there, his massive hands clutching an enormous lance—a lance that had been the trunk of a nearby pine tree until very recently. He drove it straight through the brute’s thick chest. Unlike Jackaby, the scaly monster did not survive being skewered.