Vixen (24 page)

Knowing I’ve only got one shot at this, I take careful aim, weigh the keys in my hand, and toss them to Ion.

He’s been staring at me, pale-faced and gape-mouthed, so he sees the keys coming and aligns himself to catch them.

They’re almost to his hand, his fingers poised to close around them.

It’s at this exact moment I realize I’ve been paying too much attention to the keys and Ion, and not enough attention to the mega villain mad scientist behind me.

Priorities.

The lightning has died down and Wexler’s stopped twitching. He grabs my neck with one hand, choking me so hard my eyes squeeze shut.

For an instant, I feel cold metal under my chin, and I’m afraid he’s going to put that other, open shackle around my neck.

But wouldn’t that kill me?

Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions here, but I was under the impression he wanted female dragons…alive. And since my eyes still glow, he’s surely pegged me as a dragon, little knowing I’m not able to use my powers. For all I know, he doesn’t even need me to be able to change.

Probably wants me for my DNA.

Typical mad scientist.

At least he’s smart enough to realize killing me now out of anger will not serve his long term goals. His hold on my neck loosens just as the shackle closes round my wrist.

So now what? Now I can’t turn into a dragon?

What else is new?

Okay, yeah, I’m also trapped in this freakish laboratory and might get sucked into the cogs above, but I still have my swords and knives. I’m still wearing protective leather.

I shake my head, flinging off tears from the yagi vapor (it’s a bit like how onions bring tears to your eyes—only a hundred times worse). Once my vision is clear, I spot Ion. He appears to be free of the shackles (Yes! He got free! I did something right!), but is still clinging to the chain above, probably to keep him away from the seething yagi below.

Speaking of, I’ve been wanting to kill yagi ever since they cut me back in Siberia. A couple of them are already struggling over their fallen fellows toward me. Now’s my chance.

I pull out my other sword and decapitate the two closest yagi, while glancing around to take stock of those that remain.

Looks like maybe a dozen left?

Easy peasy.

But even as I slice off two more heads, and I’m starting to think maybe I’ve got a shot, two things catch my attention. One is Eudora, standing by the levers Hans used to send Ion’s chain cranking toward the cogs on the ceiling. She pulls one down hard, cackling a particularly vengeful-sounding cackle. The chain attached to the shackle on my wrist starts to pull.

At the same time, Hans has snuck out of the way of the yagi to the giant levers that control the yagi tanks.

What’s he up to?

I decapitate two more yagi, then glance at Hans. He’s leaning into that big lever again, the one that forced two-dozen yagi from their tanks. But the yagi that are in those tanks now, came from the tanks in the row behind them. They’re not really done yet. Are they?

I slice heads off two—three—four more, while the hydraulic lifts hoist another wall of dripping soldiers from their coffin-like tanks.

One thing’s for sure: the floor is getting slimy.

And the chain that holds my shackle is getting shorter.

Also, the thunder and lightning are getting fiercer, rattling the skylights overhead, and crackling like shooting sparks from the centrifuge to the various tanks.

It occurs to me that maybe I don’t want to be standing on the wet floor if the lightning’s going to be coursing through the room.

Also, all that lightning must accelerate the rate of corpse-to-yagi transformation, because the creatures that are staggering forward in a dripping wall look pretty much like yagi, maybe a little more human. A little more agile.

With the chain pulling me ever closer to their mass, and electricity shooting through all the wet things in the room, and the floor wet enough I’ll probably slip and fall on my sword before too long if I’m not careful, I sheathe my swords and take a short, running leap, grabbing a length of my chain high in front of me, far closer to where it’s getting sucked into the cog above.

Speaking of which, Ion’s chain has been sucked away, and now he’s clinging to a pipe along the ceiling. For a second I wonder why he doesn’t just change into a dragon and fly away.

Then I see the glint of metal between his lips.

The key.

He’s got the key, and the look in his eyes says he has every intention of using it to free me. Of course, he can’t manipulate the key once he’s in dragon form—his hands would be too big, and his talons, too long. He’d most likely drop it. We’re in no position to risk that.

I’m swinging from my chain below him, and Hans and Eudora are laughing their maniacal mad-scientist laughs (do they not know how cliché that is?) and lightning is sparking everywhere, and I’m looking up at Ion, and he’s crying.

Okay, maybe
weeping
is a better word for it. I don’t know if it’s just the effect of the yagi vapor (hey, my eyes are watering like faucets), or if he’s feeling emotional over the fact that I came to help out, or if he’s just pretty sure we’re both going to die (sadly, that last one is still the more-than-likely scenario), but tears are pouring from his eyes and splashing down all over me, mostly on my face as I’m looking up at him.

The ratchets pull me closer to him.

Down below, Hans has another shackle. I’m not sure if it’s the first one that held Ion earlier, or a third one. Doesn’t matter. He’s swinging it around again like he’s going to catch Ion.

“Turn into a dragon and fly away!” I shout at Ion.

He’s got the key in his mouth so he can’t speak, but he shakes his head, flinging tears down at me.

I’m getting drenched here.

His face says no way is he leaving without me.

I admire his dedication. The only problem is, if he doesn’t leave without me, he might never leave at all. But I don’t have time to argue with him. I need to stop Hans.

Hooking one leg around the dangling chain, I somehow manage to catch the heel of my boot in a link. This gives me a more secure grip on the chain, so I can let go with my right hand and grab a sword.

I know, I know. If the bear taught me anything, it’s that I’m no good at throwing swords. I have knives inside my boots, strapped to my ankles, but no way can I reach them right now.

Hans is swinging the shackle chain like a lasso, way back next to the wall, out of the way of the staggering yagi, who are clearly disoriented about being evicted from their tanks too soon. They seem to be trying to track him down, but then he just shuffles away, and they bump into each other and fall down and get up and try again.

I grasp my sword and let it fly toward him, taking into account the swirling chain so my weapon doesn’t get deflected.

Maybe it’s because I failed when I threw the sword at the bear, so I’m taking extra care now. Or maybe it’s all that training I did while Dad and Ion were in Siberia. Or maybe it’s just a lucky throw, but the tip of my sword goes speeding straight toward Wexler’s chest.

Hans has to stop twirling the chain. He darts to the side to avoid being hit by the sword, but his cape furls out behind him, and the sword pierces it, pinning him to the wall.

Encouraged, I quickly grab another sword from my hip and fling it after the first.

Hans spins around, grabbing the first sword by the hilt, attempting to yank it from the wall. The other side of his cape flutters behind him…and is pinned to the wall by the second sword.

Yup, I totally meant to do that. On purpose.

I reach for the sword at my other hip, just as I feel something touch my other hand.

It’s Ion. He’s dangling from the pipe above by his knees, unlocking my shackle. His tears splash me in the face.

I fling the other sword at Hans. It reaches him just as he pulls the first sword free of his cape and the wall. He uses the first sword to bat the third sword away.

“Let’s go.” Ion says, holding tight to my arm and dropping the shackle. “We need to get through the skylight before I change—”

“One second.” I’m digging in my boot with my free hand, and pull out a knife triumphantly.

I’ll only have one chance to get this right—Hans is tugging at the sword that holds him to the wall. Any second he’ll be free.

I take aim at the spinning centrifuge just as a particularly fierce blast of thunder shakes the air around us.

Sound waves that strong could throw my knife off course. I wait for the rumbling to ease up.

“Hurry.” Ion sounds slightly terrified. “Eudora’s coming.”

Right. I’d almost forgotten about Eudora.

I take aim and let the knife fly, but I don’t have time to watch to see if it hits its target.

“Come on!” Ion’s pulling me up onto the pipe after him. When I’ve got both arms around it and one leg hooked over the top, he pulls himself up to standing and grabs the edge of the skylight, leaping up and through before clutching the roof and offering an arm to pull me up.

Except, I don’t know, maybe I’m not as agile as he is, or maybe my clothes are slowing me down, but I’m having trouble pulling myself up atop the pipe. I struggle for a second and I’ve almost got it—seriously, one more second and I’d be through—but Eudora’s swiftly climbing up a chain and her hand clamps around my ankle.

She pulls my leg down from the pipe.

At the same time, serious sparks and fire are shooting out of the centrifuge, which I apparently hit. And half a second after I realize that, lightning streaks across the sky, sizzling through a lightning rod to the damaged centrifuge.

It explodes in a blast of red and yellow flame, and all the lights in the room go dark.

The space below is now lit only by the light from the glowing tanks. I can’t see Hans, but I can hear him attempting to fight yagi in the darkness.

I suppose they’re harder to run away from when he can’t see them.

The thought might give me some satisfaction, if I wasn’t otherwise wholly absorbed in trying to free my leg from Eudora’s grasp.

Suddenly there’s someone next to me on the pipe.

Ion.

He came back for me.

Ion grabs the pipe and swings downward, kicking Eudora’s arms and wrists until she releases her hold on my leg. “We’ve got to get out of here—this place might explode!”

“You go first.”

“No.” Ion pulls me up and shoves me out ahead of him. “You go! Go!”

I’m not quite sure how he does it without losing his balance—he may have sprouted his wings there for a second—but he shoves me up through the skylight. The whole time as he’s shoving me, he’s screaming. “Flee! Get out of here! I’m right behind you, I’ll be fine—go!”

My last glimpse, as I look down into the fire-lit room below, is of Hans Wexler turning into a glowing cadet-blue dragon, and Eudora pulling herself up onto the pipe, and Ion’s face strained with fear for my safety as he shouts, “I’m right behind you—go!”

I start to wave my arms for my sister, but the snow is thick now and there’s no way she’s going to see me. I can’t even see her, and she’s a dragon.

Things are exploding in the room below me—seriously, I don’t know what the liquid was in those yagi vats, maybe turpentine, or something? Anyway, they’re blowing up one after the other, sending glass and flames shooting everywhere.

My instinct, of course, is to change into a dragon.

And if I’d thought it was actually possible, I’d have removed my jacket and those fabulous boots first.

Instead, my garments rip apart as my skin swells to dragon size, and I leap into the air on my newfound wings, flying in sheer terror as fast as I can toward the ledge where I last saw Rilla.

I’ve got to warn her to get away from here before Hans finds out she’s here and tries to use his shackles on her. Then we need to find my dad and get out of here before Wexler’s entire castle explodes.

Rilla’s on the edge of the ledge, peering into the swirling snow with desperate concern on her face. I land almost on top of her, but skid to a stop beside her.

For a second, we both stand there, gripping each other’s arms and staring into one another’s faces.

Okay, so maybe, technically, dragons can’t talk in dragon form. But we can say a great deal with our expressive faces, and since Rilla and I are so close, we’re able to communicate pretty clearly without words.

Right now, Rilla’s face is clearly saying, “Can we get out of here yet? I’m freaking out and it’s cold and we need to leave.”

And I’m trying to communicate back to her, “We’ve got to get out of here. It’s dangerous! How fast can you fly?”

There might have been a glimmer of “I thought you said you couldn’t change into a dragon anymore,” in Rilla’s eyes.

If so, I think I reflected enough, “I’m as shocked as you are by the whole thing,” to answer her question.

And then, just as we’re about to leap from the ledge and fly away east, Dad comes barreling out of the swirling white toward us.

The stark horror on his face seems to say, “Flee as fast as you can, it’s getting bad back there!”

Or maybe I just projected that last bit, considering that, in spite of the snow that’s reduced visibility, I can see—and hear—explosions coming from the direction of Wexler’s castle.

Did I do that? Oops.

I don’t see Ion anywhere, but his pale silvery color blends into whirling snow too well, and anyway, he told me he was right behind me. He told me to flee. And for the safety of my father and sister, I’m going to do exactly what he told me to do, and assume, as promised, that he’s right behind me.