Of course, she might as well wish for the whole mall so she could get a few other things, too. Panties, jeans, a shirt, a hairbrush… her hair must be a mess.
Her hair. She didn’t know what it looked like. Or her face.
The surface of the water had been too ripply from the insects to give her back a reflection. She hadn’t thought about it then. Now she needed to know.
The hand she raised trembled a little. She checked out her hair first. Not long, not short. Straight. Black, she saw when she pulled a strand in front of her face. And her face… she touched her cheeks, her chin, but didn’t know how to assemble the messages from her fingertips into a picture. Were ears always this big? What about noses? Hers felt straight, but was it long or short? She didn’t know how long a nose ought to feel. Or lips. Hers—
What was that?
She turned her head sharply and shook the wolf’s shoulder. “Wake up. Quick. Gan, what are those?”
“What are… shit!” the demon cried even as the wolf lifted his head, shook it, and turned to see where she was pointing.
Four great, winged shapes were heading toward them, coming from the direction of the Zone.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Gan hopped from foot to foot, clutching its head as it looked around frantically. “I knew stopping here was a bad idea! I just knew it!”
The wolf was on his feet now, but he no more knew what to do than she did. There was no cover, nothing to shield them from overhead, and she lacked even the most rudimentary weapon… and those things were huge.
And coming fast. She could see them clearly now.
For a moment, awe outweighed everything else. Watching those four sinuous shapes the color of old copper winging straight at them, gliding across air with the sideways sway of a snake crossing sand, carried by wings whose tips would span a small house, all she could think was: They exist. They really do exist.
Dragons.
A cold nose poked her. “What—? Oh. Yes,‘” she said as the wolf flattened himself as much as possible against the rim of the small depression. “Yes, I see.”
There was nowhere to run, no way to defend themselves. Their only chance was to be hard to spot. She curled up against the rock.
She couldn’t see the dragons anymore. The fear she hadn’t felt a second ago struck. Her mouth went dry. Her heartbeat slammed into overdrive. She craned her head around, trying to spot them without moving. This is how a rabbit feels, quivering in the grass while the eagle stoops, unable to see its death coming, but knowing. Knowing.
She clenched her fingers in Rule’s ruff. Maybe it was just coincidence that the dragons were flying this way. Maybe their vision was poor. Maybe…
The demon was still hopping in one place, halfway to hysterical. “They’ll eat me! They’re going to eat me, 1 know it!”
“Gan!” she called. “You’re making yourself a target! Shut up and get down!”
It looked straight at her, its oddly lovely eyes wide with terror. “They’ll eat me!” it shrilled. “I won’t be anymore! You have a soul—you’ll still be, but 1 won’t! All of me will be gone!”
She stared at it, helpless. Should she tackle it, wrestle it to the ground? Could she? It was small, but so much heavier than it looked—
“No!” she screamed, grabbing at the wolf—too late.
He’d hurled himself up out of the depression. Had he lost his mind? Did he think he could fight them, or outrun them, or—no. Oh, no.
“He’s nuts!” The demon stared after the wolf, too, as he raced away—not dodging, but running flat out—fast, so fast. Not running directly away from the dragons, either, but at an angle. “He can’t outrun them!”
No, he couldn’t. He was trying to draw them away. Offering himself as easy prey.
She was on her feet. She didn’t remember standing up. She watched as one of the greatest creatures of legend peeled away from the others, folded its wings, and dove, plummeting straight at Rule like an arrow loosed from a giant’s bow. She was still watching that terrible dive when two of the remaining three folded their wings and dove.
The one stooping on Rule struck, skimmed the ground, lifted.
Four long seconds later, a shadow dimmed the glow from the sky. Then the talons closed around her.
TWENTY-THREE
Cynna hated hospitals. So did everyone who didn’t work in one, she supposed, and maybe some who did. Just the smell of this one made her want to turn around and head the other way.
But there were things she hated worse, so she stepped out of the elevator and scowled at the wall with arrows pointing this way and that, depending on which room number you wanted.
Okay, three-fourteen was to the left. She headed that way at a good clip, her tote tucked under one arm, the flowers she’d picked up at the grocery store gripped firmly in her other hand. She hadn’t been raised within whiffing distance of any social graces, but she’d picked up a few along the way. When you visited someone in the hospital, you took flowers.
Cynna had never been one to dawdle, and with a good head of anger steaming her brain, she chugged past the nurse’s station pretty quickly. A nurse with a bouncy pony-tail called out something about stopping. She ignored that.
Damned bureaucrats. She’d thought Ruben was different, but he’d caved, turned belly-up under the pressure. Well, she wasn’t about to go along with it.
She was reaching for the door of three-fourteen when the nurse—persistent little shit—put a hand on her arm. “Miss! I’ve been trying to stop you. You can’t go in there.”
Cynna turned around slowly. “Don’t touch.”
It was the first good look the woman had gotten at Cynna’s face. Her baby-blues opened wide.
There had been a time when Cynna enjoyed the stares—at least she wasn’t invisible. There’d been a time when they annoyed her. These days she mostly didn’t notice, but she was a little testy at the moment.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Have I got dirt on my cheek? Is my lipstick smeared?”
“Uh…” The woman blinked. “You aren’t wearing lipstick.”
“No shit.” Cynna grinned in a way she knew made people nervous. “So what’re you staring at?”
Nurse Ponytail was made of stronger stuff than she looked. “Your tattoos. I shouldn’t have. Excuse me for that, but you didn’t stop. You can’t go in there, miss. Visiting hours aren’t for another two hours.”
“You’re full of assumptions, aren’t you, Miss Nurse? How do you know I don’t have three or four husbands scattered around? Here. Hold this.” She thrust the flowers at the nurse so she could dig out her badge. “Happy?”
Damned if the woman didn’t take the badge and examine it before handing it back. “It looks legitimate. Did you clear this visit with the head nurse?”
“No.” Cynna stuffed her badge in her jacket pocket and took back the flowers. “Why don’t you run along and tattle on me?” She turned away and shoved open the door. And stopped, letting her tote fall to the floor as she held her hands away from her sides.
The .38 aimed her way had an effect on her heart rate, too.
It was held by an aging Santa Claus in gold-rimmed glasses, a cheap sports jacket, and ugly black shoes. Cop shoes. Cop eyes, too, behind those glasses.
She relaxed a bit. “Guess I should have knocked first.”
“It’s okay, T.J.,” Lily said from the bed. “She’s MCD.”
“Knocking would be a good idea,” he said, sliding his weapon back into a shoulder holster that was in a lot better shape than his shoes. “People keep trying to kill Yu. Makes me edgy.”