The Grotesques (45 page)

A thud announced Bekka had leaped onto the glass panels of the foyer. Ella listened to her scamper across. With luck, her reappearance would alert the excavators to move their equipment to the ruined church.

The dragon roared, obliterating any sound of the grotesque. A blast of hot air hit them through the slit of doorway. The engine of the motorbike whined. Metal crashed. She would have cried out had Adam not squeezed her arm. Her heart thudded at the scrapes and scuffles. Rob and Doer raced around the corner. They knelt by the canal, hefted the rocket launchers onto their shoulders and fired. The dragon was already beating into the air. The grenades flew beneath it, across the car park and Nelson Street, and exploded into the red brick building housing the Australian Maritime and Fisheries Academy. The force set her wobbling and threw Doer and Rob flat on their backs. Adam held her until the bangs and splashes of falling rubble subsided. They burst out and helped the men to their feet as the grotesques slunk over the debris. The dragon was winging out over the river, Genord seated across its shoulders. Ace dangled from its talons. The foolish boy had lost them everything.

“It’s not over yet.” Doer was hoisting the launcher back up. She was surprised to see a tear glisten in his eye as he fired between the berthed dolphin cruise boats. The dragon spiralled up and over in a loop. Ace slipped through its talons and crashed into the water. Romain loped to the river, jumped in, and thrashed toward the ripples. The grenades collided with the new bridge, throwing a cloud of debris and dust into the air. Above it all, the dragon flew straight for the wharf. A blast of fire forced them to roll through the shimmering air. They scrambled behind the red lighthouse as talons clacked on the paved wharf and stone clattered all around. Ella peered into the sky. The grotesques were circling just out of snapping range of the dragon’s vicious teeth.

“You requested an audience,” Genord called, dismounting with the grace of a lord. “Are you too cowardly to face me?”

Doer stepped around the lighthouse, rocket launcher at the ready. Before he could shoot, the dragon belched fire. He dropped the weapon and dived for cover behind the searing metal structure.

“Coward is a name I’d stick to someone who preys on women and children,” the drug dealer called.

“Your son followed in the tradition of a long line of criminals. You should be proud.”

“Let’s talk.” Doer was dripping sweat. Knowing it wasn’t all the heat made Ella’s knees weak. “I’m sure we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“I need no treaty. I have a dragon. I shall say this only one more time. Bring me Miss Jerome or I shall kill you all. La Gargouille hungers insatiably, and I have need of one more sacrifice.”

“She’s not here.” Rob drew his gun and released the safety catch on his gun.

Doer’s Jaguar braked around the intersection of McLaren Parade and Commercial Road with a deafening screech. One of Doer’s men, wisely stationed by the vehicle in case Ace did not show up, hopped out, ducked a swooping bat, and fled.

“Oh no?”

The bat glided past the three of them. Ella squeaked. For once, she was glad of her cowardice. It had drawn Genord’s attention from Romain’s splashes. The mason was hauling Ace toward the wharf under the vigilant guard of the grotesques. It was nothing short of a miracle the mason had found the teen in the murky waters, but then, he
was
a saint.

“Fine, Genord. You let Ace go, you let us go, and we’ll turn her over.”

Rob pointed the gun at Doer.

“Ella’s not going anywhere.” Adam’s eyes were full of mistrust as he tugged her behind him. Ace had not figured into their plan. Doer’s tear was clear indication the teenager meant something to the underworld boss. With his son dead, she wouldn’t care to wager he would put either the city’s interests or hers above the lad’s.

The dragon bugled. It skittered along the dock to where Romain was treading water, trying to keep Ace’s head above water. A trickle of blood was running down the teenager’s forehead. The mason’s stubby fingers groped but couldn’t latch onto the wharf. The dragon’s nostrils flared as she savoured the smell of her dinner. A tongue flicked out and dabbed at the blood on Ace’s head. Romain made a sound like a choke. Ella thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach turned as the grotesques let out an eerie cry and swooped across its snout. A thrash of the dragon’s slender neck sent Genord scuttling. When the grotesques left off, it advanced on the fiendish caretaker. Genord held up a stiff hand that only slowed the dragon’s plod. The stiff corded muscles of his neck spoke to just how tenuous his hold on the beast was. Madman or not, that scared her more than if the dragon had been under his sway.

On the wharf, Cecily squatted and dropped a paw to Romain. She took his shirt in her mouth and hauled him out of the water as Caroline struggled to keep Ace afloat. Weak blue light pulsed from Genord’s palm. The dragon swept her neck around and over Ace.

Ella laid a hand on Adam’s chest. “He’s unconscious. He’s got no chance.” Especially since Romain’s cross was floating with the current.

“Don’t even think about it,” Adam murmured.

She slipped from behind the lighthouse before his hand could catch her wrist. “Buy them time,” she whispered. “They have to find it.” She darted to the aubergine-coloured wall before he could stop her. At the same moment, Rob lunged for the discarded rocket launcher. “Ace or me, Genord.”

The caretaker leaped onto the dragon’s arm and neck. It rose before Rob had aimed the weapon, stirring up a furious wind. Ella turned the corner just as a tongue of flame shot past, and cursed the wide, neatly organised streets. The pointlessness of her flight hit her. There was little chance she could dodge the dragon for anywhere near long enough to enable the men to finish the excavation. But she refused to stand there meekly for Genord to destroy, not when there was a chance they could harry the evil bastard enough to prevent him capturing a final soul. Spotting an alley at the back of the deserted Lighthouse Inn, she dashed across McLaren Parade. Her chest twinged when she thought she had run into a dead end, then she found she could scoot around a ninety-degree turn. If she could just make her death difficult enough to prevent Genord trapping her spirit, none of this would be in vain.

She heard a whoosh of air as the dragon swooped from above. She dropped onto the hard asphalt and rolled to the side. Her shoulder collided with a white brick building, sending a searing pain through her back. She threw her hands over her head as a burst of flame ran along the road in front of her. Bellowing, the dragon thrust its hind legs forward, beating its wings to brake its descent into an alley unable to accommodate its broad wingspan. Ella pulled herself up and stumbled under the wing, back the way she came, hoping the time the dragon needed to rise high enough to turn would afford her the time she needed to get away. Except she was back in the open and the dragon was already descending in the inn’s parking lot.

Rob and Adam had caught up. Doer was running toward them but immediately changed direction as Genord leapt to the ground with cat-like grace. They ducked as the dragon glided over them. Rob cried out and clutched his side as talons raked him. Blood spurted from his wound.

Ella looked around in despair, unable to accept it had all been for nothing. The dragon had landed, sandwiching them between itself and Genord. The caretaker’s unwavering stare was battering her already shredded confidence. Ignoring the screeching grotesques, the dragon took a step forward. She was dinner, Ella realised, swallowing hard and trying to steady her wobbly legs. She was grateful Adam had taken hold of her hand. They sidled closer to Genord while Doer helped Rob up. Unable to stand straight, he looked like he was in agony.

“Miss Jerome, you have no idea how much of a pleasure this will be.”

“Let them live, Genord,” Doer said. His face was pale. “We will all serve you if you let us live.”

“I’m afraid I do not believe in second chances. As for Miss Jerome, I always intended she would serve. Prepare, my dear. You are the ninth and final sacrifice.”

Adam lunged toward Genord. If the caretaker had been a man they might have stood a chance, but he was so much more than that. As Adam swung a punch his way, a ghostly blue talon raked through his body. Adam screamed in pain as his body spasmed. A moment later he collapsed. Ella cried out and squatted beside him, one eye on the dragon.

She shivered as Genord cradled her face in his icy hands. He drew a knife from his belt and pressed the blade against her throat. “I could kill you myself. Watching La Gargouille shred your muscles from your bones as your loved ones watch will be infinitely more enjoyable. It is a pity they will not see me meld your spirit with hers.”

Sickened, Ella pulled away from Genord’s crazed laughter.

“Go,” Adam whispered, white from shock.

“Not without you.” Running was pointless anyway. She tried to help him up. He was on one knee when the dragon arched its neck. She steeled herself for the end. Gasped as Romain hobbled between them and the dragon. The grotesques scratched at the beast’s eyes, screeching with a fury Ella had not yet witnessed. La Gargouille tossed its head, knocking the creatures from its face, sending them tumbling through the air.

“Genord, stop. Stop,” Romain cried in anguish.

“Move, mason. You do not have your tools to turn these peasants to stone. You have lost.”

“No. No, brother.”

Romain turned to the dragon and, throwing his arms high and wide, brought them together in the shape of a cross. The movement caught the dragon’s attention. Enraged by the attack, it belched fire: blue with streams of orange. The flames engulfed Romain, flickering skyward as he screamed. Genord howled so loud the air from his lungs clanged against the red metal of the lighthouse.

“No,” Ella sobbed. She flinched from the heat radiating off Romain. Had to raise her arms to protect her face from the searing air behind her, to shield her ears from the evil cry that was ripping the bolts from the market shed, warping the metal and shattering the glass.

Adam put an arm around her. No sooner had she buried her face in his shoulder, then he dragged her into the breeze floating off the river. As he turned her from Romain, she gasped. Genord was a blackening figure in a halo of flame. His howl slid into laughter as he glided toward the river, as Romain staggered toward him, as droplets whirled off the ripples and showered the mason, dousing the hungry flames. Steam sizzled off them both, and its vapours carried the forms of a thousand tiny spirits.

“Do you see that?” Ella clenched Adam’s arm as tight as any talon.

Before Adam could answer, Romain moaned and fell to his knees. She wanted to weep for the blackened husk of a man, could only gag at the sickly-sweet smell of steaming flesh.

“Water. We need to throw more water.” She lunged toward the river, but Adam stopped her.

“He doesn’t want us to.”

Genord laughed. “It makes no difference. You live, brother dear, and as long as you do, so do I.” He reached out to the dragon.

“Nooo,” Romain moaned. He struggled to form a cross with his fingers.

The dragon arced its head over them.

Ella clenched her jeans. In one pocket, the fragment of Romain’s cross drove a splinter into her finger.

The maw opened. Fangs gleamed.

She scrambled to Romain.

A rumble gathered deep in the scaly throat.

She slid out the wood chip and pressed it against Romain’s blackened finger. He lifted his head, spoke the name of God. Light burst from his heart, blazing hot. She winced, turning her head and closing her eyes, stumbling back as it engulfed the brothers.

The brightness faded. Ella cracked open her eyes. She put a hand over her mouth as she gagged. Romain was nothing more than a blackened husk.

With a mighty trumpet, the dragon rocketed into the air. It wheeled head over heels, the sun gleaming over its scales with an intensity that mocked the murky waters. In one final swoop, a single beat of its wings scattered Romain’s ashes over river and square.

It was gone before they thought to duck.

Adam staggered to his feet. “Look.”

Where Genord had stood there was only another pile of ash.

THE AREA HAD
turned deadly quiet save for the distant hum of the excavation machinery. Ella scanned the sky for the grotesques. Two figures were tumbling to earth, their form shifting before her eyes even as their changing wings beat in a furious attempt to break their fall. Her sharp intake of breath alerted the others. Adam raced toward the nearest.

“Cecily!” he called. “Cecily!”

Doer ran for the beaked grotesque. Somehow they managed to cushion the girls’ fall. The four of them crumpled to the ground and it was, unbelievably, four
people
who lay before Ella. Adam gathered Cecily into his arms and held her tight, pushing her tangled blonde hair from her eyes. Rob limped to Ella. She pulled up his shirt to check his side but he shook his head.

“Go,” he said. “All of you. Now.”

Ella jerked her head up. The dragon was flying right at them. They stumbled to the market shed, the men supporting Cecily and Caroline, Doer shouldering Ace. He dropped the youth to help Rob smash their way through the glass atrium of the building and batter the main door open. They bolted inside the large warehouse-like building. Ace groaned as Doer let his arms thump to the floor. Adam was hugging Cecily like he hadn’t seen her in years. Ella walked over to Caroline. Her right arm hung at an awkward angle.