I vault into the loft barely in time. With a heavy thud, the overgrown winged tri-top crashes through the door. Wood explodes into the barn and the structure groans as if it’s been knocked off its footing. Kera and I lie low. My heartbeat throbs painfully in my neck. I calm my breathing, but it’s not easy. I’m not used to being hunted by a huge bird-lizard. The beast snuffles and follows its sense of smell to the pile of hay where I hid the chamois.
Seeing it tear into the hay gives Kera’s theory credence. We scooch back on our bellies, and when we’re far enough away, I pull Kera toward the open hay door, where a knotted rope swings from its mooring beneath the eaves and extends to the ground far below us. I lift her onto the rope and whisper, “When you reach the bottom, head for the woods.”
“You don’t understand. No place is safe. Someone from my realm has sent it on a hunt. For me.”
“Just do as I say, okay?”
Braving her frustrated glance, I give her a hard kiss. Pulling away, I touch her flushed cheek. “Please.”
She nods and starts the slide down. I lean out, my torso dangling precariously at an awkward angle as I steady the rope.
A rush of goose bumps sweeps my arms, and instinct has me glancing over my shoulder. Leaning back inside, the sound of the rope’s bottom knot slapping the side of the barn fills my ears…and nothing else. The beast is quiet. I can almost imagine it tilting its head, listening to Kera’s rhythmic descent. What if it leaves and finds Kera outside? I have to do something.
Spying a pitchfork, I snatch it up and dart over to the edge of the loft. My sudden stop causes loose hay to fly into the air, and I peer through the pale green stems floating downward. It’s what I feared. That thing’s head tilts, cocking its tuffed ear to the sound. I fix my aim and hurl the heavy tines at the animal’s heaving side. Little good it does. The metal bars ping off the scaly body and its spiky head snaps up. Its beady eyes latch on to me. I guess I’ve accomplished my goal. It’s no longer intent on the noise Kera’s making.
“That’s right. I’m up here, you ugly hybrid.”
The beast’s sides puff up and it lets out a bellow. A stable of barn owls hoot and flap their wings high above in the rafters. I back away. Kera had better be on the ground and running.
As I back from the edge, the ladder shakes and I hear the wooden slats break. The scratch and smash of the beast trying to climb up the ladder is joined by another bone-jarring cry. My eardrums pop, and I turn to look back out the hay door.
The rope swings freely, but Kera just stands there on the ground. I hiss at her to start moving, but she doesn’t hear me. She isn’t scared—I would feel it if she were. She’s up to something, and that usually means trouble.
I jump on the rope, and in no time, slither to the ground. Kera’s wide-eyed gaze snares mine; she’s a porcelain statue, perfectly formed and fragile. Frightening growls and the sound of wood ripping apart shake the ground. The noise snaps her out of her trance. She stares wildly at the barn, an expectation that she’ll be captured any moment settling on her face. She believes the beast is after her, and from what I’ve seen, I agree, but she can’t give up.
I don’t fall into the hypnotic fear that’s clawing up my spine. Instead, I grab her hand and pull her after me. We take off down the dirt road that lies between the ranch and the forest. When we’re far enough away, I turn and throw fire at the barn. The old, dry wood soaks up the flames that grow hot and high. I can feel the heat where I stand. Nothing can live through that.
I’m totally wrong. The beast walks out of the flames, shaking the sparks off its feathers and body like water. The head twists from side to side, scanning the area for its prey.
“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Kera chants in disbelief even as I pull her along behind me.
I scramble for a plan, but everything I think of has inherent flaws.
The sound of the barn caving in crashes behind us. I feel Kera hesitate. “Don’t look back!” I yell.
The ground quakes with the force of the beast’s pursuit. Our feet stumble. Kera falls. I tug her upright and force her to move.
“It’s not going to stop.” Her tone holds a note of inevitability.
“It will.” My promise is meaningless, and we both know it. “I’ve got to think.”
Kera yanks her fingers out of mine and backs away.
Each step hammers painfully against my heart. The beast is tearing up the road behind her, growing larger and larger as it nears. Its eyes lock on to Kera. Muscles expand. Contract. It rushes toward her like a runaway bull. Kera continues to back up, her face calm, yet her body quivers with fear.
“No!” The word is ripped from my heart.
I call on my powers and concentrate on a patch of dirt road. The earth rumbles, and a chasm splits the ground between Kera and the beast. With hands glowing, I wait for the big, ugly lizard to tumble into the jagged rift so I can bury it.
Wings snap out, and the beast begins to rise; its armored chest frames the background behind Kera’s body. She extends her arms as the beating of its wings snaps her hair forward and molds her shirt against her back in the sudden gust. “There’s only one way it will leave.”
The monstrous thing soars over my trap. I uselessly hold out my hand. “Kera!”
Her eyes pierce mine. How can she think sacrificing herself to save the rest of us is a good idea? My hand glows and a tree rips out of the ground and slams into the beast. Wood splinters everywhere. I do it again and again with the same results. It barely slows the thing down.
I can’t stop what’s about to happen even if I want to, and that realization twists my gut. Just before the talons encase her upper arms, her plea is carried to me on the dirt-laden wind. “Let me go.”
She’s suddenly jerked into the air. The beast bellows its triumph, shaking the leaves from the surrounding trees as it wheels about and carries Kera off toward Teag.
Let her go? She knows I can’t. Just the thought rips into my heart. I need to follow her, but the first in me rises in a familiar, dangerous way. I know what’s coming, what I’m about to let loose. I fall to my knees, struggling with the power that’s building within me. I can’t use it. It’s too new. Too raw. I could easily kill not only the bird, but Kera.
My skin burns brighter. The power wells up hotter and faster. Last time I felt like this, every living thing within a mile radius got burned to a crisp because of me. I slam my fists against the ground, cracking it open as I plunge my hands elbow-deep into the soil. My breathing shreds my lungs as I try to control my power. It’s no use. The first in me bursts to the surface. Kera is mine. No one has the right to steal her from me.
I direct all that anger and energy into the earth. The dark magic that’s in me slithers over the ground, poisoning everything it touches as it races off the dirt road toward the forest.
Grass turns brittle brown. Nearby, trees turn an ugly ash gray. My power kills everything it touches. Even the bugs deep in the soil sense my invasion. Those that make it to the surface sizzle and blacken.
The gate to our backyard swings open. Grandpa steps out. “Dylan!” his call rumbles with concern.
The poison rushes on. Radiating in an ever-widening circle. “Get back!” I growl. There’s no sign of myself in the voice that explodes from me.
As Grandpa hesitates, Grandma appears and moves closer. “Dylan?”
“No!” I call. Misery slips into my voice. “No. Please.”
I can’t let them die. I won’t be the cause of more death. I struggle for control, grit my teeth, and will the power to obey me…and it does.
The magic in me surges one last time and disappears. Exhausted from the fight, I rip my hands from the earth and collapse onto my back, holding my hands out, seeing the white-hot vapor pulse, then fade.