Rife’s a few meters ahead of her. She eases back into a lengthy stride and pops him on the ass as she passes. In the distance, she hears the beast snarl. They cut a corner, toward the sewer mains, then tread down a sharp embankment until they see the beast cornering its prey.
She recognizes the boy—it’s that Muzi kid she’d gotten the backstage passes for. His punk friend, the one who’d had the audacity to ask her to sign his bong, is nowhere to be seen. There’s a girl, too. Face somehow familiar. The beast growls at the poor child, its heavy head keeping her locked in its sights. A junk heap alpha bot skitters between the beast and the kids. The beast rears back on its haunches, claws flexed and eager.
“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now,” Rife says, huffing behind her.
He’s right. She doesn’t have time to waste. Doesn’t have words to waste. She clears her throat and steps toward the beast. The note grows inside her, curling her toes and making her skin go to gooseflesh. She takes her aim, then unleashes a perfectly pitched high C that stops the beast midattack.
The beast rises up again, croons at the sound with a warbling shriek of some winged monstrosity mentioned only in myth. The earth itself rattles beneath Riya Natrajan’s feet. She lets the note go flat. The beast writhes with pain, flopping from side to side, its heightened hearing betraying it. It shudders, looking pathetic now, like a beetle under the shadow of a child’s shoe.
The little girl screams something at Riya Natrajan, but her voice won’t break over the cacophony. Her small fists are balled tight, arms to her sides, red rising up in her brown cheeks. She’s angry, Riya senses. The girl wants her to stop. It’s impossible to stop now. They’ll be defenseless, and the beast will rip them to shreds without a second thought.
The beast croons again, a growl like gargling knives. Blood in its eyes. Drunk on its feet. It sways, then collapses to the ground.
The girl gets closer, mouth still moving. Nothing Riya Natrajan can make out. Not until she hears her words, scream lost in a mere whisper.
“It’s human!” the girl says. “You can’t kill it! It’s part human.”
Riya Natrajan keeps her aim on the beast. There’s nothing human about that. Not in the slightest. Its bloodied gaze cuts at her, fangs drawn, muscles tense, ready to rip her throat apart as soon as it’s given a chance. There won’t be that chance. The girl frowns, then veers toward the line of fire. Why doesn’t she protect her ears? Like Rife. Like Muzi. Like anyone who values their hearing. The girl stands fully in front of the beast. Riya tries to stop the note, but the force is impossible to cut off. She angles away instead, crumbling the concrete column of a pedestrian bridge, then blowing all the windows from the top floors of the building behind it. Her throat constricts, and her voice becomes her own again . . . wonderful, but not wondrous. The effects of the godsend have worn off, and the pain—her pain—is back, worse than any of the relapses she’s ever had. She feels like she’s been steamrolled. Her knees buckle. Her legs give out. Face hits the dirt.
“Human life is important,” the girl says, her accent thick, but her words ring with something else. Something that speaks of a higher power. “All human life. Even this.” She approaches the beast’s side, presses a hand behind its ear, speaks to it with words Riya Natrajan cannot hear.
Rife offers her a hand up, but she’s so fatigued, she can’t even reach for it. “Get that girl away from that thing,” she orders him, her voice the rasp of dried reeds.
“She says it’s human.”
“I know what she said. Since when does being human mean it can be trusted? Didn’t you see the look in its eyes?”
“She does not wish to harm me,” the girl says. “She does not wish to hurt any person. Sydney has put these horrible thoughts into her mind.”
The beast raises its heavy head, eyes glinting at the girl. Talons scissor ever so slightly.
“Go!” Riya Natrajan manages to scream. “Now!”
Rife runs, but the beast is a beast in every way that matters. Quick, precise. It snatches the girl up in its claws, sharp enough to slice her in half—but it does not. It has its orders, Riya thinks. So maybe human after all. Wings beat, kicking up dust, wings sturdy enough to lift mountains.
The alpha bot shrills. Muzi throws rocks. But Rife’s following its gaze, just like Riya Natrajan is. The gaze directed right at her.
The beast. It’s coming her way.
She summons the power and coordination to get up, and manages to roll onto all fours, her entire body screaming bloody murder.
Rife digs in, sprints back toward her, faster than she’s ever seen him move before. But not fast enough. The beast glides overhead, its free talon flexing in anticipation of revenge.
Her powers may be gone, but she’s not powerless. She’s Riya fucking Natrajan. She plants one foot, then the other. She’s wobbly as hell, but she concentrates on the expanse of concrete in front of her. She fights an entire war with her body to take those seven steps toward Rife. Rife and the beast dive at the exact same time. Riya reaches out to Rife, the tips of their fingers kissing, and she’s sucked into the shifted world, so suddenly that her ears pop. The beast lurches through her, talons scissoring around her in a way that would have severed her body in half.
Rife’s body presses firmly against hers. Noses touch. Lips, nearly.
He probably thinks he saved her. Probably thinks he’s her knight in shining armor, oblivious to the war she’s just won. But she’s hogged the spotlight for long enough, so she’ll allow Rife to be the hero . . . at least for now. He tosses half a smile her way before shifting them back. Molted feathers flutter in the breeze. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“All right, team. We’ve got a beast to catch,” Rife announces, so utterly full of himself, and she doesn’t mind a bit. The kid and bot huddle around him in awe. And Riya Natrajan has to admit, she feels a little awed, too.
Chapter 53
Muzi
“Rife?” Elkin throws his arms around his cousin.
Muzibot’s circuits are still trembling, and it’s all he can do to stand there and stare. Seeing Rife . . . in some ways, it’s more shocking than all they’ve been through today. A glimpse of reality ripping them from the icy grip of this nightmare. At least for a moment.
“You know this kid?” the woman asks in an empty rasp, something so damn familiar about her, but it’s hard to tell through all that blood.
“Cha. Muzi, right?” Rife says to Elkin. “A friend of my cousin.”
“Actually,” Elkin says. “I’m Elkin. Muzi’s . . .” He gestures in Muzibot’s direction. “There was sort of a mix-up.”