Because he was hiding you?
She’d been a distraught nine-year-old and had just gone along: name change, Mon’s move into a new neighborhood, and his continuing touring, coming back to Miami every two weeks but leaving again soon after. The way he’d set up the Yard so it wasn’t in her name until she turned eighteen. It also explained why she couldn’t get her belongings or visit her friends. All those things she’d accepted and forgotten about. Until now.
It also explained why her grandfather kept his distance, something that had always hurt. But that would mean Cyntag was telling the truth. She flipped through the follow-up articles and was even more stunned: her father painted a villain, having sabotaged the physics work he had been doing at SUNLAB. One theory was that he’d stolen his research to sell to the highest bidder. Another was that he’d gone on a rampage before taking his family to sea to their deaths.
The man she remembered was kind and soft-spoken. Never once had she seen him lose his temper, and, God no, he wouldn’t have killed his family.
So the alternative was…someone had killed her parents. All these horrible allegations were a setup to cover the murders.
She sat back in the chair, feeling so cold she was shivering. How had she survived? She remembered being on the boat, the jarring thud that knocked her out. The next thing she knew, she was at Brom’s, about to get the worst news of her life.
As she absently rubbed her neck, she realized she was still feeling the weird warmth. She searched for nearby vents. Except it was summer and the heat wouldn’t be on. Something odd prickled through her. This library branch was a small building, but it was eerily quiet. Though sunlight came through the windows near her, the interior looked dim. The electricity hadn’t gone out, or the microfiche machine would have died.
Earlier she’d heard a couple of thumps and someone coughing violently, but now she heard nothing but a low-level hissing. She lurched to her feet. Danger bristled up the back of her neck. Her rash felt as though it was literally on fire.
A shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She twisted to the right. Nothing. Or maybe it was something, like that creature in Cyntag’s office.
She reached for the gun she still had tucked into her waistband, keeping it down as she walked to the middle of the library. The fluorescent panels were dark, yet lights twinkled from a computer behind the checkout desk.
Not one person in sight. She raised the gun, ready to shoot. Something knocked it out of her hand, sending it skidding across the carpet. Something she couldn’t see.
Hell.
Hot breath pulsed against her neck. She spun around, banging into the end of a book aisle. The gun lay only a few feet away, but what good was the damned thing going to be if she couldn’t see what threatened her?
You cannot see…
The shadow moved again. She strained her eyes, trying to discern an outline, anything. It, whatever it was, shoved her. She felt pressure against her upper chest a second before she tumbled backward to the floor.
It wasn’t small like Allander.
A book toppled from an upper shelf, landing several feet in front of her. She scrambled to her feet, eyeing the door. Not again. As she dashed toward it, something hot pushed her from behind. She kept her balance, darting down the aisle to the checkout desk and coming to a bone-jarring halt. A man lay sprawled on the floor, his hand clutching his chest. His face was frozen in an expression of pain and shock. She knew, even without checking, that he was dead.
The sound of metal rattling against metal pulled her attention to the front door again. Cyntag! Trying to open the door that was obviously locked. Could she really be happy to see him?
Arms—at least that’s what they felt like—wrapped around her. She dove forward, out of the thing’s grasp. It pushed, sending her rolling across the hard, carpeted floor. Even with the room still spinning, she could see that Cyntag wasn’t at the door any longer.
Maybe she’d imagined him. But she sure as hell wasn’t imagining this thing. No, she wasn’t that crazy. She held her hands aloft, ready for anything. Hunter/Prey. Was this what Mon had prepared her for?
A crashing sound drew her attention to the back door flinging open. Cyntag shoved the door closed, his hard gaze on something to the right of her. Of course, he could see it. And from the expression on his face, it wasn’t good.
She ran toward him, definitely the lesser of two evils. He moved in that preternatural way, suddenly beside her with his arm protectively across her as he faced…well, nothing.
“Who sent you?” he asked it. “Who released you?”
“What is it?” she whispered, though she didn’t know why. The thing could no doubt hear her.
“Humanoid demon.”
“What does it look like? How big is it?”
Cyntag didn’t take his eyes from it, or where she guessed it was. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do. Lift the Veil like you did at your office. I need to see what I’m fighting.”
His hand slapped over her forehead. Oh, God, he was right. Just the sight of it turned her stomach. Its eyes glowed red, like the embers of hell. Its skin was a bit like the Elemental’s, only earth brown and mottled like water-stained leather. Its nails were like something out of a Freddy Krueger movie.
Books rained down on it. Though they fell right through its body, it flinched in pain and looked up. One of those Elementals sat atop the shelf, its heart-shaped face tight with anger as it pushed down more books.
The demon reached toward the creature, its arms stretching like rubber. The Elemental tried to duck away, but those arms looped around it and brought it down to the demon’s level. The Elemental screamed and then fell silent as the demon tore its head off with teeth as sharp as its claws. The demon dropped its body and focused on them again.
The Elemental had been trying to help. Outrage filled her, and she tore out of Cyn’s grasp, only to lose sight of the demon that, in a moment of insanity, she thought she could make pay. Something clamped onto her sides, two hands, she guessed by the claws that dug into her. A rush of heat washed against her side as she tried to pry those hands off her. Faintly she could see the shadow of the demon only inches in front of her. Suddenly the hands released her and something came between her and the demon.
Something big, black. With scales. Spines that fanned back over its head. And fangs like a saber-toothed tiger’s.
The room spun as she staggered back and held on to the edge of a bookcase for support. Cyntag no longer stood there. What was there stole her breath away.
A dragon. A friggin’ dragon.
“Get farther back, Ruby.”
Cyntag’s voice came from the dragon. Had it eaten him? His pants lay in a heap, his shirt tattered on the floor.
Maybe it had.
Blue spikes studded the dragon’s spine between two wings tucked against its back. It spun around, eyeing something behind her. She could only stare at the beast, larger than a horse. The dim light shimmered across its scales as it moved. It lunged forward, expelling sinuous black smoke. She saw the outline of the demon in the smoke, its long arms snaking toward the Dragon’s muzzle.
The Dragon thrashed its head back and forth, knocking into the rows of shelves and sending them crashing down. She was leaning against one of them, so she snapped out of her terror and moved before she went down with it.
She felt the creepy heat again, the breath she’d been feeling since leaving Mon’s house. That thing had been with her the whole time. Fear and revulsion rolled through her. The Dragon’s head lunged toward her, freezing her as glistening fangs came close.