Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (54 page)

Glancin’
behind me, the angels all stare
back at me, puzzled.

“Never
mind,” I mumble, wishin’ Red was
here.

Reachin’ out to the doors cautiously
,
all
the hair
s
on my arms
rise in response.
Light sh
i
ne
s
swiftly from the
carved Faerie writin’ on the archin’ eaves above the doors, while frightenin’ crackin’ and creakin’
co
me
from the w
ood
. Hastily, I step
back
from the edifice.

A c
urlin’
,
dark
roil
of
smoke tumbles and ri
se
s
from the large nostr
ils of the fire-breathin’ beast
etch
ed
with
in the doors.
The dragonheads
’
expressions change
from tragic to fierce while they
animate
and
move
with struggling jerks to
free themselves from the
timbered plane.

“Naw, don’t
get up on our account,” I
murmur
in a sanguine
tone
I’m not feelin’.

The heads pivot
toward me as one
scaly cranium
lurche
s
violently in my direction, its
serpentine
neck
comin’
wi
thin
inches of my face. A
thun
derin’
voice
puncture
s the air as it speaks
.
The voice
is
somethin’ between the
sound of a biker
gang start
in’ up their engines
and a launch at Cape Canaver
al. The vibration from it causes what i
s left on nearby tables to shatter before they hit the ground. Couple that with the smell of brimston
e and burnin’ flesh
that rolls
out of its mouths in smoky plumes
and it’
s enough to make me feel a second of
regret for havin’ come
on this mission
.

When the rumblin’ voice from the dragonhead subsides, I ask
,
“
Anyone catch that?” while
backin’ up
further
from
the snarlin’ beast
tearin’ away from the door in
ch by inch.

Wood splinters
in t
r
emblin’
crack
s
as the two-headed dragon strai
ns
to get out of it. Spatterin’
flames leap
into the air
like
the
inferno from
fire-
breathers at a carnival sideshow
,
while the heat from them rushe
s
oven-hot around me
.

“Y’all can feel
that, right?” I ask Reed and Zephyr
at my sides.

“No, f
aerie magic is useless against us
.
Is it warm
?” Zephyr inquires
with a grin
.

“Yeah, it sorta is
,
actually
,” I nod
with an ironic twist of my lip
. “What’d it say?” I ask
, sweatin’
. “Do y’all know?”

The ground
rumbles as one huge claw scrapes
the f
loor in front of the door. Sharp
, mahogany talons
tear
the ancient
ru
g in long, jagged knife-lines
,
while
t
he stone floor cracks
beneath its weight.

“Please tell me
that
someone knows Faerie,” I say
hopefully.

“I know it
,”
Reed replies
, soundin’ like he’s
concentratin’.

“Y
ou
gonna le
t me in on what it said or not?”
I ask
, bef
ore cringin’ when the beast thro
w
s
back its he
ads and roars
triumphantly as
its second
set of
talon
s
dislodge
from the wood
, poundin’ on the floor with a startlin’ BUMP
.

R
eed, ever the professional, says
calmly,
“
It asked this question: ‘
When
confronted by
the
knowledge that all is lost
,
save
the
disgrace
of death
, what
is your weapon of choice
?
’
”

“It wants to know what weapon I’d pick
if I know I’m gonna die
?” I ask,
frown
in’
at his face.

“Yes,” he states
.

“Do you
think it’s a trick questi
on?” I sho
o
t
back
. “I mean, if
we’re
wrong, what do you
think will happen?” I ask,
attemptin’
to sound casual
.

“I think the beast will continue to grow
until we
solve the enigma
or it
kills you,” Reed replies
without much expression.
“Do
you know any anti-dragon charm
s?”

I give him an are-you
-serious look.
“Naw, I think I’m g
onna have to wing it,” I reply
sarcastically
.

“A
shield might be helpful,
” Reed suggest
s as both dragonheads inhale
deep,
powerful breath
s
.
“Heat-resistant,” he adds with both his eyebrows risin’
.

“Noted,” I reply
with an air of confidence I don’t really feel.

The
dark, knotty eyes of the dragon
shift
dully
while
it spews
a torre
nt of flames from
its mouths. I
just have
t
ime to whisper words that cause
an invisible wall of ener
gy
to form in front of me. Knee
l
in’
behind it,
heat
wraps ‘
round
the wall and singes
the e
dge
of
my wing
a
long my left flank.

Wh
e
n I open my eyes, Anya i
s standin’
directly in front of me
, tryin’ unsuccessfully to block the magical fire
. Reachin’ behind her
back
, she pulls
a golden arrow from her quiver, quickly rat
chetin’ it on her bow. Releasin’
the shaft
, the bow mak
e
s
a
low,
musical twang
as the arrow
flies
straight through the head of a dragon
, like mist,
and embeds
in the door
.

In frustration, she turns
on Reed with a torrent of Angelic words.

“I
am
thinking, Anya,” Reed replies
, unruffled
. “Russell will just have to play with it
until we de
cipher the enigma
.”

Zee frowns
.
“There
are
more weapons than word
s to describe them,” Zephyr says
in a low tone to Reed.

As a suggestion, I offer
,
“
Could it be
magic?”

In response to my answer, t
he
enraged dragon roars
, breathin’ brimstone
at
me again.
Feelin’ like I’m meltin’,
I hunch
down
behind the
shield
I had created
.
When I glan
ce up again, the dragon appears
to have grown, its
head
s
nearin’ the vaulted ceilin’.

“No
,
not magic
,” Reed replies
, standin’
within the
inferno
,
like it i
s a mirage
,
as the flames abate
.

With a feminine growl,
Anya grasps Zephyr
’s broadsword from his idle hand and
rushes
the dr
agon, choppin’
at its
heads. Sh
e is
only successful at cuttin’
the air as the sword passes
through it like an apparition.

“Why can’t y’all touch it
?” I a
sk with
my jaw clenched
. But then,
the dragon tears
free from t
he door with a rain of shatterin’
wood.
Sweat
glides down the side of my face; I swipe at
it irritably.

The
monstrous
, wooden
reptile
lunges
, snarlin’
at us, but the angels all ho
ld their ground in its presence.
Anya’s ebony wings stretch
in front of me like the night sky in her attempt to stop the creature from reachin’ me.
Ripples of energy, li
ke waves in a pool
,
distort
its
polished scales
when
it passe
s
through her like a dream
.

“Its
f
aerie magic
doesn’t truly exist for us
,” Reed
answer
s
my question
, while the
dragon
rams
its head at me, knockin’
me back
,
as a whoosh
of air expels
from my lungs.
“
But, it seems to work well on half-humans.
We have to solve its riddle
by naming the weapon
to open the door.”

“A battle-axe?” Sorin asks
the dragon.

Enraged by his answer, the dragon
’s
w
ooden wings unfold
. D
estroyin’ a tapestry
,
the fabric tears
loud
l
y on its serrated edge.
Shriekin’
and
growin’
in size
, it takes
up a wider girth of
corridor.

I cringe inwardly and call out
,
“It’s
gettin’
bigger
,
”
while dodgin’
the crushin’ blow
s
from the dragon’s tail as it
labo
rs
by me.

The angels
form
a hudd
le in front of the door.
“Let’s not guess—
for Russell’s sake,
” Reed orders
the Powers with a modicum of pity.

“Yeah, do
n’t guess!
” I agre
e
grimly
,
as I back
up
. M
y hands
are
slick with sweat
.
“What
was the question again?” I ask
Zee with a look of supplication.