"What the fuck was that?" Rafael growled. "Are you trying to die?"
"Trying not to let you die."
"Lorenzo—"
"We have to move."
Diego was still running ahead of us, Jasper's weight on his shoulders, already a hundred yards away. We ran after him. Every shadow was death. My lungs burned and my legs shook, but I kept moving because stopping meant dying.
The eagle banked for another pass, coming at me now, aiming for my throat.
I shifted my weight, letting the rhythm take over. The ginga was older than language, written in my bones. I swayed left, let my body fold sideways, hips leading, and the eagle's talons swept past where my head had been. Close enough to count my heartbeats in the seconds between life and death.
My blade came up on instinct, pure capoeira, pure street fighting, pure everything Dionysus had beaten into me. The edge caught the eagle as it passed, and hot blood sprayed across my hand.
The eagle pulled up hard, shrieking, climbing back into the golden dawn sky. Blood matted its feathers.
"Caesar, to me! NOW!" Constantine shouted. "Back, Caesar. Back!"
The wounded eagle banked away from us, heading back toward its handler.
We kept running. Augustus kept attacking. Every few seconds, another dive, another near-miss, another moment where death brushed past close enough to feel the wind of its passing.
My blade became an extension of my arm, moving on instinct. Duck, spin, slash. The ginga kept me alive, kept me moving, kept me one step ahead of talons that wanted to tear out my throat.
Rafael stayed close, his breathing uneven beside me. When the eagle dove at me, he yanked me down hard enough that we both hit the grass, rolled, and came up running.
My legs were burning, threatening to give out. Blood ran down my back from the talon wounds. Rafael's shoulder was bleeding through his torn shirt. The farmhouse was still too far away, and Augustus wasn't stopping.
This was a losing game. We both knew it.
Then an engine roared across the field.
A truck burst from the direction of the farmhouse with Diego behind the wheel. Jasper was in the passenger seat with blood still matting his hair but conscious now, pale and grimacing but alive.
Augustus pulled up immediately, circling higher, away from the vehicle.
Diego skidded to a stop beside us, grass and dirt spraying up, pinging against my legs. The engine sputtered and died. Diego cursed viciously and cranked the ignition. "Come on, come on, you piece of shit—"
The engine caught with a roar.
"GET IN!"
I didn't need to be told twice.
Rafael and I threw ourselves into the truck bed, and our bodies hit metal hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. Diego was already accelerating before we even landed, and I grabbed for the side rail to keep from being thrown out.
Above us, Augustus circled as he followed us, staying high enough to avoid the vehicle but close enough to keep us in sight.
A sharp whistle carried across the field.
Augustus responded immediately, angling his flight path and heading back toward the convoy.
Then, bullets started punching through metal.
Glass exploded somewhere, and the truck lurched hard to the left. I slammed into the side, vision whiting out.
"DOWN!" Diego shouted.
