“By chance, you wouldn’t have anything new to show me, would you?”
Perhaps not this night, but soon . . . you never know . . . And the whisper faded away as she glimmered lightly in the night air.
Menolly led the way since she had already scouted ahead. I swung in behind her, then Camille and Bran, and Vanzir at the back. I was spoiling for a fight, and I could tell Camille was too. She seemed pissed out of her mind but she moved silently alongside Bran.
We slid through the undergrowth, as stealthily as we could, and I kept my eye on Menolly’s back. She moved in silence, totally focused. After a few minutes, she held up her hand and I motioned behind me, coming to a halt. A brief pause, then she started again. Another moment and I found myself on the edge of a clearing.
The ground was plush with a layer of mulch, a combination of wet leaves and fir needles and detritus from the autumn foliage that the trees and shrubs had shed. The chill of the night filtered through and I could see my breath in front of me, as the clouds drifted across the moon, blotting out the light at one moment, then baring the silver crescent into the open.
Menolly softly moved to the left, staring out at the group of dreglins who were hunkered over the remains of a body, feasting. With iridescent skin that changed from blue to green and back to blue again, they were sleek and hairless, and totally naked—allowing us to see their sex. I thought they might have scales, but it could have just been a trick of the moonlight. Lean and taut, they were muscled but wiry, and they ate like ravenous animals. Ripping out chunks of the woman’s gut, they dangled the intestines above them, eating them like spaghetti, their faces smeared with blood and bile. It was worse than watching zombies—zombies were killing machines, they ran on autopilot. These creatures were cunning and crafty. Ivana was right, they were dangerous, and even from here I could feel how they delighted in destruction. Jenny Greenteeth had an appetite for flesh, and so did the Dark Dugald, and they’d passed it in spades to their children.
Menolly glanced over at me, and I looked down the line. We were all poised on the edge of the clearing now, and the dreglins hadn’t noticed us, so wrapped up in their gruesome meal they were.
Lysanthra began to vibrate in my hand. She was spoiling for blood and I was about to give it to her. But Menolly would go in first, disrupt them and take down one of them. Vanzir motioned that he’d go in second. Again, he stood a better chance of not being harmed by the dreglins’ toxins.
We waited, then, in an imperceptible flicker, Menolly leaped out into the group. She said nothing, gave no war cry, just went for the throat of the biggest one. As she landed full-frontal on it, she knocked the woman to the ground, taking her down.
Now, speed was our ally. Vanzir moved in quickly, firing at the nearest dreglin with the stun gun. The energy bolt hit hard and center, and the dreglin was knocked through the air, a good two yards, to land on his back. Vanzir turned the gun on the next one and fired, and I realized he was trying to give us an advantage by getting the drop on them.
I rushed in after him, toward the one he’d shot first. I landed atop the creature, bringing Lysanthra down square, full force. The blade slid neatly through the dreglin’s chest, but to my horror, there was no blood. What? Didn’t these things bleed? Then, as a thin trickle started to flow, he lifted me up and I found myself soaring through the air to land against a stump. I screamed as a sharp rock jammed into my lower back. It didn’t penetrate my jeans or jacket, but I could already tell I’d have a massive bruise there.
I pushed to my feet in time to see Bran take on one of the dreglins as, once again, Vanzir shot the one who I’d been fighting. He went down again, and this time, Vanzir shot it twice more and it stayed down, twitching. But that meant he’d used five—maybe six—bolts and the stun gun only held ten charges.
Camille seemed to be assessing the situation and I could tell she was prepping a spell, trying to stay out of the way. Smart girl—she’d never be able to take on these creatures in a physical fight.
Bran danced toward his quarry with a grace and strength that stunned me, his movements precise, incisive. He was beauty-in-action to watch, and I found myself mesmerized by how fluid he was. Camille was staring at him too, and I had the feeling she had never seen this side of him. I also had the feeling she didn’t like being forced to admire him for any reason.
He darted to the side as a female dreglin—with the breasts to prove it—lunged toward him. Turning in midair, Bran brought his blade to bear and it glimmered with a brilliant purple flame. The sword whistled as he spun, cleanly slicing through the dreglin’s neck like a hot knife through butter.
The woman didn’t stand a chance. One moment she was leaping forward. The next, her body continued on its arc as her head went tumbling to the side. The flame attached to the sword cauterized the wound instantly, and the blood stopped flowing as soon as it had started. Bran stepped to the side as the body lurched forward, then fell, spasming as it hit the ground. The head rolled to the side, eyes wide open, staring up at the night sky.
Menolly’s dreglin went down for the count, and Vanzir had finished off the one on the ground in front of him, so that left two. I launched myself at my attacker again, and Bran moved in from the right. Camille sent a spell reeling toward the last one, but the energy bolt arced up and looped, heading back toward her with a vengeance. She screamed. Bran stopped in midstep, whipped around, and launched himself toward her, taking her down just before the bolt hit.
The spell zoomed past and collided with the tree behind her, sending a shower of sparks and flame up in the side of the trunk. But the wood was too wet and it quickly burned out.
Seeing that she was safe, I turned my attention to my opponent. Blood oozed out of the wound but it was slow and thick, and I realized they had a far different make up than we did.
As I aimed Lysanthra toward the creature, Vanzir shot him from behind. He stumbled, turning to see who had attacked him.
I stared at him, openmouthed. “Dude! You could have missed and hit me. What the hell? Watch out!”
“I could have, but you’ll notice I didn’t.” With a laugh, he shot again and the force knocked the dreglin forward. Menolly dove in for the attack. She landed on the man and, in a flurry of fangs and blood, he was dead.
I hurried back to Camille, but Bran had once again interceded and the last dreglin was sprawled on the ground, headless like her sister. We had killed them all. Correct that: Bran, Vanzir, and Menolly had killed them. Camille and I’d done shit. Feeling oddly irritable, I let out a low growl but then decided that—with or without our help, they were dead and we were all okay, and that’s what mattered.
“Is that all of them?” Vanzir asked.
“Yeah, at least according to Ivana. But that doesn’t guarantee more won’t sneak over here.” I wiped my dagger blade on a rag that I’d stuffed in my pocket before we left home.
“We’ll worry about that when it happens. If it happens.” Camille sighed and turned to Bran. “Thanks. You saved my life. I would have fried myself royal if you hadn’t knocked me out of the way.”
He gave her a long, cool look and a hint of a smile tipped the corner of his lips. But it wasn’t a smile that made me comfortable. It was too cunning, too sly.
“Can’t have Aeval’s pet taking a powder due to her own fireball, can we? She’d have my hide. Then again, my mother would tear her to pieces if the Queen of Shadow and Night harmed me and we’d have a full-scale war on our hands. And once my father grows into his new body and returns to his full glory . . .” His voice drifted off as he let the words hang.