The Fire King (36 page)

“Screw you,” Evie snarled.

“ ‘Screw you,’ ” he mocked. “Say
fuck
like a real woman, and maybe you’ll luck into some.”

Soria sat up, crouching in front of the girl. “You try, you die. I
will
kill you.”

Baldly bit his bottom lip, speculation heavy in his gaze. “I’d like to see that. The one-armed woman against me.” He tapped his chest. “Special Forces, darlin’. I ain’t no pussy.”

“You look like one,” Evie snapped. “Bet you have a big old rug under those pants.”

Soria gave her a dirty look, and the girl cringed. Baldy just roared with laughter and pulled a large knife from the sheath at his waist. He tossed it at Soria, and the blade landed hard, skittering across the helicopter floor.

“Go on,” he said. “I don’t care what the old bitch says. This’ll be worth it. I owe you a little something.”

Full circle,
Soria thought, staring at the knife with creeping quiet horror. She could hear her uncle’s whispers in the darkness, telling her to fight—fight or kill herself. She could see him flicking that little blade in the beam of the flashlight he carried, that he had shone over the disgusting photographs strewn at her feet.

“Fight or die,” her uncle had whispered, crouched just out of reach. “But I hope you fight. If you do, I’ll know that deep down,
deep, deep down,
part of you still wants me. Like they all wanted me.” And he had kicked the photographs closer, showing terrified hollow faces, naked women in chains.

Soria looked up now and saw her uncle—and then the image faded and it was Baldy again. Slick with sweat, his eyes gleaming. Made of the same stuff, she thought, rage hard in her throat.

“Little’s the word, all right,” Soria muttered, gritting her teeth as she picked up the knife. It felt heavy in her hand. The last time she’d held something this heavy, it had been in darkness and she’d been lost, a chain around her arm. Touching the knife made her almost as sick as holding a gun, but not quite. This surprised her, but there was no accounting for memories.

She had been right-handed before, always bad with her left, but her grip was strong. She could do this.

“Outside,” she said. “Back up.”

“Marko,” called a low male voice. It was the helicopter pilot. Soria had not noticed him, but he was staring at Baldy with a look of extreme displeasure. “Cut it out.”

“Nah,” said the man. “Nothing’s going to happen. Look at her, she’s shaking. I’ll have my knife back in two seconds.”

“That’s not the point,” groused the pilot. Soria thought about trying to take him hostage. His back was turned. It would be easy. But after she had him … that would be the tough part. Hostages were hard work.

She looked back at Evie and tried to smile. “Hang tight, kiddo.”

The young woman gave a tight nod, but she looked ill and afraid. And yet, there was a continued hint of defiance in her eyes that was all Soria needed to get her ass in gear. She had survived worse creeps than this. Gone to extremes to survive. This would be nothing.

The mercenaries that Long Nu had taken with her were out of sight. Soria heard scattered gunfire and shouts, but no screams of fear or pain. That could not last. Perhaps the monks would be safe, but not Karr. Not Althea or any chimera.

“Come on, baby,” said Baldy, his hands in his pockets, backing around the chopper and away, clearly expecting her to rush him and not at all concerned. “Show me what you got. And then I’ll show you what
I
got.”

“Okay,” Soria said, when they were far enough away. She looked at him, and again saw her uncle. A ghost in her mind. Baldy swam back into focus.

She threw the knife at his face.

Not for nothing had she spent ten years working with a bunch of men and women who liked playing with sharp objects. But her aim was off. The blade sank into the meaty part of Baldy’s arm. He stared for a moment, stunned, and then the pain caught up with him and he howled.

“Damn,” Soria muttered, and Baldy ripped the knife out of his arm and charged toward her, red faced, eyes bulging with pain and fury.

She ran back toward the helicopter, and jumped inside. The pilot was swearing, trying to unbuckle himself from his seat. Soria grabbed Evie and looked at the restraints around her wrists. Thick plastic wire. She was going to need something sharp.

“Give me a knife,” she barked at the pilot. “Or shoot him. He’s going to kill us!”

“Fuck,” muttered the pilot, as Baldy reached the helicopter. He stood outside, staring at Soria like a zombie: hungry, mindless, hateful. Blood gushed down his arm. He held the bloody knife. Soria, crouched low, moved in front of Evie.

“Marko!” shouted the pilot.

“I don’t care,” rasped the other mercenary, and began to climb into the helicopter. But, halfway in, a shadow moved behind him and something long and sharp slid between his legs, angling upwards to press against his crotch. Baldy froze.

So did the pilot, raising his hands as Robert peered around the edge of the door, holding a gun. “Finally, some ladies in distress. Makes me feel like a man again.”

“Yes,” Soria said shakily, glimpsing glossy black pigtails and Hello Kitty sunglasses behind Baldy’s ass. “I’m certain you get tired of Ku-Ku having more testosterone than you.”

Robert’s lips quirked up. “I see you’ve forgotten the arm.”

“It’s just an arm,” Soria replied, and let him help her out.

Karr did not sit with Tau’s body; he tossed aside the grisly head and went looking for Soria’s remains.

He did not find her. Not anywhere. Which meant that someone had already carried off her corpse—unlikely—or she had come back to life—given his own situation, not impossible, but still unlikely.

Or she had never hit the ground.

Hope sprang wild. He turned in a wide circle, staring up at the sky, and glimpsed flying wagons descending on top of the cliff.
There.
He had to get there.

“Karr.”

Karr turned, and found Althea behind him. She was accompanied by two other familiar faces, men whom he had last seen in their prime, young and strong and healthy. These two chimeras who stood before him now still looked strong, but the physical effects of age had appeared, shriveling their flesh, hollowing out their cheeks and eyes.

“Bax. Cruno,” Karr said, shocked to discover that their existence was not exhilarating as once it would have been.

Truth had torn out a piece of his heart. Loyalty and family meant nothing. He had found his people—found more than he could have hoped of what he’d known—and instead of joy and comfort, he had discovered strangers and deception. He had no home.

There was only Soria—if he could find her.

“It is true,” Bax whispered, swaying. He had always been the shortest of the chimeras, a squat, solid fighter who wore the skins of the crocodile and wolf. Fur rippled over him, followed by a rough, dark hide that shimmered like a river over his body. Beside him, Cruno slouched, becoming more bear than man, though in moments he shifted into the slender body of a hawk.

Althea herself wore white fur dressed in leopard spots, silver wings clasped over her shoulders. Her face was feline, though she stood upright like a woman. Her golden eyes were glowing, her face contorted with grief.

“You were my friends,” Karr said quietly. “And you betrayed me.”

“No,” breathed Althea, tears glimmering in her eyes. “It was we who were betrayed. Tau made all your warriors immortal. He did not tell us. We discovered only through accident.”

“But we did betray you,” Cruno growled. “Your memory.”

“We let him lead us. Tau was always your second,” Bax rumbled. He glanced down at the decapitated body. “This is not over.”

Karr shook his head, backing away. “I do not … I have no time for this. I …” He stopped short as shots filled the air far above. The other chimeras flinched.

“Hunters,” Althea whispered. “It has been fifty years, but I knew they would come again. It happens, sometimes, when we have not been careful. Not all shape-shifters know of our existence, but those who do keep a watchful eye for any who might be chimeras. Or those who might be making them. It is not an easy thing to hide if two shape-shifters of different breeds fall in love, especially if they do not know that what they are doing is truly forbidden, and punishable.”

Karr gave her a sharp look. “You said there were children.”

“Hidden.” Bax gave the others a worried look. “Deep in the caves. If we go back, we might guide the humans straight to them.”

“They are led by a shape-shifter,” Karr said. “A dragon. She will smell them.”

He did not wait to see if they followed. He leaped into the air, wings beating hard, fighting for a sharp ascent back to the caves. He thought of Soria and died a little, but if there were chimera children in hiding, with a dragon hunting them …

Screams filled his memories—small faces and smaller hands gripping his shoulders and hair, his name called out by terrified voices. And those nets, the nets and hands that had held him down as he watched those children burn.

Karr felt movement behind him. Althea and Cruno were flying swiftly at his back. Near the caves, he saw monks running down the precarious stone steps, and close behind them were those dark-clothed men with their strange modern weapons. Their task seemed to be fear, chaos; they were aiming at the sky and shooting.

Karr looked for Soria but saw no sign of her. But he felt a chill against the base of his neck, and Althea suddenly shouted. He twisted to the right just as a dark green body plummeted past with crushing speed. The dragon immediately halted, and swerved to the left, screaming in rage.

“Get the children!” he shouted at the others, and then folded his wings against his back, diving toward Long Nu.

She was old but fast, and neatly evaded his first charge—but Karr shifted his lower limbs in midflight, forcing his arms to lengthen into a lion’s reach, and when Long Nu made another pass, he grabbed her around the neck and raked talons down her chest. She cried out, eyes glowing, and he dug his lower feet into her spine, fighting to break her back.

Long Nu made her wings go limp and she dropped through the air like a stone, taking Karr with her. The two spun, rolling wildly. The moment his grip loosened, the old dragon curled around herself in a tiny ball. Karr had no choice but to let go.

The moment he released her, Long Nu flared her wings, catching him in the face. He grunted, tumbling backward through the air, and she dropped again, feet first into his gut. Karr grabbed her ankles, but that only anchored her close enough to swipe at his face. At the last moment, he twisted so that she caught his shoulder instead—but the pain was sharp and the ground very close.

He flung her away, straightening out before impact, his belly skimming tree tops. High up, he heard a familiar shout.

It was Soria. She stood on the ledge that she had fallen from. She was not alone. Robert and Ku-Ku were on her right, shooting at the mercenaries streaming down the stairs. Much to his surprise, the blonde girl Evie was close by, huddled low with her hands over her head.

Long Nu saw Soria, too. Karr felt the change in the old dragon, knew what she going to do before she began her ascent. He screamed at her, enraged and terrified. But despite his brute strength, Long Nu was faster. She flew straight toward Soria, and he could not catch up.

It was a miracle—and a lot of bullets—that had gotten them this far, but Soria had insisted on coming back to look for Karr and those children that Althea had mentioned. If Long Nu was hunting chimera, she would not stop at adults.

But now they were stuck, and Long Nu was headed straight for her. Karr was close behind, but Soria knew he was not going to be fast enough. Perhaps Long Nu did not intend to kill her, but one thing was certain: the dragon-woman was going to use Soria against Karr, and she could not let that happen.

She turned, and found Evie staring at the dragons with huge eyes.

“No way,” the girl muttered, and then, again.

“Way,” Soria replied, desperately casting around for a weapon, anything that she could use to fight Long Nu. Robert and Ku-Ku were armed, but she didn’t want to distract them. The mercenaries had them pinned and knew it. It was just a matter of time before the pair ran out of bullets.

And then it happened. Robert’s gun clicked. Ku-Ku shook her head, and he held out his hand. She gave him her knife, and Soria watched in horror as he left safe cover and charged up the steps toward the men who had been shooting at them. Ku-Ku blasted away at anyone who raised a gun, but there were too many.

Soria watched Robert get shot … but not before he reached the first man, made a quick, lethal motion with his knife, and wrested the mercenary’s gun away.

He was shot again, and staggered, but at this new angle he had a cleaner view of the men, and took out another before being hammered a third time in the chest. Again, he made a clean shot—again, another bullet entered his body—and Robert pitched forward off the edge of the cliff. Soria clapped her hand over her mouth, gasping. Ku-Ku showed nothing. She just kept shooting.

Evie squeezed Soria’s arm and pointed. Long Nu was almost on top of them. They had run out of time.

But just before the dragon made contact, a small mass of black feathers plummeted from above and slammed into her head. Long Nu jerked, and the distraction—and the dragon’s incautious speed—sent her crashing narrowly past. Her wing struck rock. Soria heard bone break.

A crow circled and landed lightly beside Soria on the stone ledge. His golden eyes gleamed. Off to Soria’s right, the mercenaries started shouting, dropping their guns and shaking their hands. The metal glowed red-hot. Ku-Ku rose from her hiding place, gun aimed. The men reached for other weapons, but started screaming again, holding their hands. Smoke curled from gloved palms.

“Eddie,” Soria whispered, glimpsing the young man at the top of the stone steps, wind blowing his tousled hair over his eyes. Serena was with him, and she held small guns in each hand. Light trailed over her shoulders, and she slid around Eddie to take the lead.