The Deadliest Bite (20 page)

I’m not saying it was easy. Their blades were just as sharp and deadly as ours. But raised too high, or held too far away from the body, they did nothing to protect the most vulnerable spots, the places we’d been taught to target since our rookie days in the field. The moment my sword sliced through a former Nazi’s jugular, I knew we were going to clean up.

Grunting. The sound of whistling blades, the scream of dying spirits, and I was right. We were winning. I could feel the tide turn before I saw it. Brude’s mercenaries fel at our feet like dead leaves. They hadn’t even managed to cut one of us, so that the smel of our blood would bring more spirits screaming down on our heads. And then the blemuth stepped into the center of our ring, one screaming Dog clutched in each taloned fist.

It slapped them together like a couple of cymbals and spirit residue fel on our heads like bloody rain. Before the Dogs could melt into the ethos, the blemuth stuffed them into his giant, gap-fanged mouth, crunching them up like fresh celery sticks.

“Shit!” I yel ed, wiping sweat and Dog remains out of my eyes.

My Spirit Guide skewered two of his foes like they were a couple of chickens headed to the barbecue. Nobody stepped up to take their places right away, which gave him time to yel over to me, “Save yours for later!”

I said, “Okay!” My opponent, a former member of the Republican Guard, made a stupid move, raising his sword over his head with both hands. I took the advantage and split him like a ripe melon, amazed that the sound of skin tearing and blood spurting stil worked here, where so many of the world’s rules had been shattered. I looked over at Raoul guiltily. “That was just too easy. You saw.”

“Can’t you do one thing without putting
your
signature on it?” Raoul bel owed.

Vayl snorted. And although he didn’t say anything, I got the picture. Jaz had forgotten how to be a team player. Probably sometime during childhood, when al Evie wanted to do was play Barbies, and Dave couldn’t be distracted from his G.I. Joe’s imaginary missions to, of al places, Pennsylvania.

Wel , fine. If Raoul wanted a prisoner I could probably round one up for him. In fact… the stench of rotten flesh brought my attention to the blemuth. Who was picking pieces of Dog out of his teeth with a bloody talon and, in the brain-scrambled way of his kind, just now deciding what to do next.

Something I’d heard years ago swam to the top of my head. A way to tame these huge beasts so that they were forced to obey every command. I couldn’t remember which of my col ege professors had done the field research, but I decided now was the time to put it to the test.

I ran toward the blemuth. The closer I got the more I decided the yel ow gunk caked under its thick black toenails was probably old, rotten cheese. Wishing for a bandana to tie over my nose, or even a horrible cold, I charged toward the opening between the pads of the blemuth’s first toe and the one right next door.

Wanting badly to look away, knowing I couldn’t even squeeze my eyes shut, I shoved my sword into the gap between pads, gagging as the smel of foul feet and new blood mixed with the air my body needed for survival. It got even worse when the blemuth bel owed in pain and jerked his foot back, pul ing me and the sword I clutched with him.

“Jasmine!” I heard Vayl cal behind me. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a prisoner!” I yel ed back. “Just give me a—” A dry heave stopped me as a big chunk of toenail trash came loose and flew past my head. Knowing I could only dangle from my sword for so long before I was either smashed by the blemuth’s descending foot or so revolted that I wil ingly jumped to my death, I scrambled to the top of the foot. Which was when I realized the creature was made of more than wisps of soul and cosmos dust. Somehow Brude had managed to import a real live soul-crusher into his realm.

I knew I was right when the king’s tinny laughter echoed off the insides of my head, leaving spikes of pain every time it bounced off one of the wal s that kept it contained. I felt a wetness beneath my nose, pressed it into my shoulder, and knew without looking that blood stained my sleeve. More laughter from Satan’s most dangerous adversary.

Go ahead and laugh, you fucker. You’re still my prisoner. And soon you’ll be staring down your
own execution
.

Silence, sweet and pure as a mountain stream, inside my mind. It al owed me to climb the blemuth’s blue-scaled foreleg with the ease of a kid on a jungle gym. I kept moving up until I’d reached the top of its plated shoulder. I found the joint where a pathetic sort of chicken wing grew out of its upper back, a reminder of what could’ve been if Aliré hadn’t mutilated Mother Nature.

Balancing myself on that spot, I drew my knife and shoved it into the blemuth’s scale-covered earlobe. It pinched just enough that he yelped. “Listen up, train wreck. You feel that pain in your foot?”

He nodded. One fat tear rol ed down his snout and plopped so close to Aaron that his pants were soaked from calf to ankle. He jumped and swore, looking up to find the source of the attack.

When a snot bubble quickly fol owed, he dove for cover.

I might’ve felt sorry for the blemuth. After al , the worst pains often seem to be the smal est. I was gored by a Kyron and shed not a single tear, but paper cuts have made me cry. And he was obviously hurting. Except that part of a Dog’s disguise had gotten caught in his lower tooth and was stil dangling out of his mouth. So, yeah, no sympathy for the spirit-eater.

Instead I said, “I’m the thorn in your paw.” Suddenly I realized.
Oh crap. I’m basing this entire
idea, not on years of professorial research, but on some kid’s story Granny May read to us that I
thought was bogus
then!
We are so screwed
.

But it was way too late to back out now. So I talked fast, hoping this blemuth’s brains were more scrambled than breakfast eggs at Denny’s. “When you’ve done everything I ask, I’l stop the pain for good. Do you understand?”

He nodded. Blinked. A few more tears plopped to the ground. Raoul and Vayl, who were far too self-respecting to run for cover, chose the next best course and ascended the blemuth like a couple of seasoned mountaineers. I kept talking while they climbed, hoping he wouldn’t notice al the “fleas” he’d suddenly attracted.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Daisy.”

I coughed. “Wh-huh?” My eyes took another roam over the blemuth’s reptilian body. “You want me to cal you Daisy?”

He nodded. “I’m Daisy.”

I blew out my breath. I’d just temporarily enslaved a gigantic, Dog-eating blemuth named Daisy who, if everything went right, would help us save a trapped spirit. Even Granny May didn’t dare tel me that stranger things had happened. This one broke the scale.

I cal ed down to Aaron. “Climb up here, ya quivering sack of pudding! We’re taking the express to Brude’s place!”

Aaron peered up at us, briefly weighed his options, and then shook his head.

“Another patrol wil find you,” Vayl told him. “They are just as capable of eating you alive as this blemuth.”

Raoul, who’d settled on Daisy’s other wing joint, sat forward to frown at Vayl and me. I shrugged and held up my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

Stil , Raoul told Vayl, “Your fatherly advice is about as helpful as a case of smal pox.”

“I was simply tel ing him the truth.”

Raoul cal ed down to Aaron, “Why don’t you want to come?”

“I’m afraid of heights!”

My Spirit Guide’s frown deepened as he looked over at us. “I don’t suppose either one of you thought to bring rope.”

“One of our Dogs was carrying some,” I said. “Should we assume it got eaten?”

“Blech,” said the blemuth.

“I’l take that as a no.” I leaned over until I could see the acrophobe. “Yo, Aaron! Look around for the Dog’s pack! It had rope in it!”

While he searched I said, “Vayl, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” he replied.

“Then wil you let me handle this situation? I think it needs a woman’s touch.” He lifted my hand and kissed it, his lips lingering just long enough to remind me that we hadn’t had any
us
time in so long that my body had started to ache in al the special places only he could touch. “As you like, my love. Only be quick. I sense another patrol approaching.” I licked my lips to keep them from pressing against his and climbed down as fast as I could.

Yanking Aaron from cover and whispering fiercely, “Quit being a big pussy just when your dad needs you the most,” I pul ed the pack from the bush where it had landed when the straps had broken, and jerked the rope out of it. As I unwound it I said, “I’m going to tie this around you. Then I’m going to climb back up there and tie it around the blemuth’s wing. There wil be no way you can fal because Raoul and Vayl wil also be holding on to the rope and together they’re about as strong as a construction crane. So al you have to do is climb. Got it? Good. How the hel long is this sucker?

Shit, we could probably summit Mount Rainier after we’re done here. Come on, turn around.” After I knotted Aaron in, I also cut myself a good length and secured it to the pommel of the sword that was stil securely jammed between the blemuth’s toes. Taking the ends of both ropes, I wrapped them around my wrist a few times, tucked the raw ends under, and made my climb, al the time saying, “See how easy this is? A monkey could do it. In fact monkeys do it al the time.”

“Monkeys have tails!” Aaron cal ed.

“They are also often being chased by bigger monkeys,” Vayl told him. “In your case, that would be another group of Brude’s fighters, closing in on our position more quickly than I anticipated. Is someone bleeding?”

We al checked ourselves, found no cuts or bruises. Then I realized. “It’s the blemuth. He’s as real as we are. They’ve got to be smel ing his injury.”

Raoul cal ed down, “Aaron! You have about thirty seconds before we’re surrounded again! Get your ass up here!”

I glanced at Vayl and whispered, “Raoul said ‘ass.’”

Vayl’s head descended a notch, his version of a nod. “He seems to be quite excited. I think he may be enjoying this adventure of ours.”

“And you’re not?”

“I am with the woman I love and one of my sons. My life has never been so complete.” I glanced down. “So how long are we going to let him dangle there before we start pul ing him up?”

“Give him a few more seconds. His character could use some polishing.”

“You real y do love him, don’t you?”

Vayl sighed down at Junior, who was making the ascension about fifty times more difficult than it had to be. “I love him more than life itself. However I do not like him much yet. I am hoping that wil change as we spend more time together.”

“Aaah!” Aaron looked down, flipped out, lost his grip and slipped a total of twelve inches. Vayl nodded to Raoul, who came over to our side to help haul the kid up. “He’s something next to useless,” Raoul growled.

“Not everyone was meant to save the world,” Vayl said. He looked down at Aaron fondly. “But the fact that he is trying to rescue his father, despite the fear that hounds him, continues to draw my admiration.”

I wasn’t sure how impressed Vayl was when Aaron final y joined us at the blemuth’s shoulder, accidental y caught sight of the ground, and passed out. But, having spent some anxious moments inside elevators and, once, a very smal closet, I could admit that we’ve al had better moments.

Maybe Junior’s were stil ahead of him.

Vayl didn’t seem quite as hopeful. He leaned over his son and brushed his hair back from his forehead. When he looked up the concern made deep furrows between his eyes. “Tel me, does it look to you as if he is fading?”

He did look pale. I held my hands in front of my face. No sign yet that our extended absence from the world had affected me physical y. Maybe I was building up some kind of resistance from previous “vacations.” But the fact was that we didn’t belong here and our bodies knew it. If they failed before our mission was accomplished, we could wel be stuck in Brude’s horror show for eternity. I yanked on Daisy’s ear and got a low, rumbling growl to let me know he was paying attention.

“Take us back to the castle.”

Daisy began to lope, like a horse who’s been working al day and suddenly catches a whiff of his trough ful of oats. Surreal, the feeling of riding on a giant creature’s shoulders. I told myself it was just like gal oping through the fields on the back of my grandpa’s old gelding. Except supersized.

With a fairy-tale element that I’d thought was rarer than platinum until I’d hit high school and found a brownie hiding under my desk because he didn’t want his wife to discover he’d been out drinking al night. Which was when I realized how much humans silently agreed not to see or discuss so that they could live happy, comfortable lives. And when I knew that I could no longer be one of them.

So I acknowledged how weird it was to feel the wind of the Thin blow the hair back from my face as I rode toward the absent king’s torture chamber, while the king himself, or at least the most important part of him, remained imprisoned inside my own skul .

Beyond walking the length and width of his cel , Brude had been quiet since his last outburst.

Too quiet. Which let me know that he knew the score. Maybe he could smel his castle, coming closer with every giant step of his spirit-crusher, the scent of despair coming to him through my own nostrils. I knew the stil ness within my brain wouldn’t last forever. He’d know when we reached his base. He’d try like hel to escape. And it was entirely possible that nothing I could do would hold him back.

Saturday, June 16, 11:45 p.m
.

I’l give blemuths this much, when they want to cover ground, they can
move
. We crossed fields, forded creeks, waded through dark forests that should’ve taken days to negotiate. I wasn’t happy about the hanging bridge that creaked and swung like something from a neglected playground, or the raft that kept threatening to capsize every time the ferryman stuck his pole into the grimy green water below it. But at least he accepted our story that we were new recruits, just come from the world to lead Brude’s armies to victory.