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“Your strategy is based on a movie?”
“You have a better idea?”
He picked up a concrete shard left over from the battle and lobbed it at one of the birds— which caught it in a foot-long beak and bit it in two.
“No. But what happens now?”
“This,” I said, and threw the flare down an alley. The flock, which had almost caught up with us, followed it, all except for the huge one. It tried, not seeming to realize that it was bigger now, and slammed into the bricks on both sides. Which was when the shit hit the fan.
Louis-Cesare and Tomas jumped it, ripping off the great wings in a sound like tearing metal. Ev opened up on the ones at the end of the alley, giving them both barrels past the thrashing body of the big bird, and then pulling out the rocket launcher. That didn’t help much except to blow up the building at the end of the street, raining bricks and smoke everywhere and confusing the issue, but I didn’t have time to complain.
Because they were on us.
There had to be ten or twelve of them left, maybe more. It was hard to tell as they were all about six feet tall and moving like lightning. All I saw was flapping, geometric shapes and stabbing, pointed beaks, and five-inch claws trying to shred.
They were doing a pretty good job of it.
They looked like paper, but felt more like steel, and when I reached for my purse and the lethal devices it contained, a long, savage beak plucked it away and flung it into the night, leaving me almost defenseless. So, the next bird head that slashed down at me got grabbed, twisted around, and its beak used like a dagger to stab at its fellows.
It didn’t like that. I didn’t like that I was already bleeding in half a dozen places and that my brand-new leather jacket was a couture rag. Louis-Cesare apparently felt the same way, judging by the amount of cursing and flailing and various bird parts that were flying from his direction.
In a minute or so, it was all over, leaving me panting and bleeding and plastered with fake feathers, but still on my feet. Louis-Cesare cracked the last long neck, then did one better and ripped the head clean off. At least they didn’t bleed, I thought, as nothing spirted from the hole besides a little paper confetti.
Ranbir was back, along with Sarah, who ran past me to where her brother was lying on the sidewalk. He was bleeding profusely, but judging by the amount of swearing he was doing, he was going to be all right. Sarah seemed to realize this as well, and looked up at me, her face tear streaked and her hair everywhere, but her eyes shining.
“Whoever you are; whatever you’re doing,” she said shakily. “You’ve got yourself a team.”
Chapter Forty-One
Dorina, Faerie
Clump, drag, clump, drag, clump, drag.
I awoke to the feeling of being pulled over wet stone, but I could not seem to gather the strength to open my eyes and see for myself. A cave, I thought, but it was a vague notion. I was aware of where I was only by the echoes that sounded back from far away,
and the smells. The familiar scents of mineralized water, ammonia, and guano reached my nose, but the last two were distant, almost undetectable.
This cave was all about water.
Clump, drag, clump, drag, clump, drag.
We finally stopped, and I was left alone for a while. The strange sounds departed and faded away, and for a time there was only the faint drip, drip, drip of water over limestone. I drifted in and out of consciousness, but made no attempts to call anyone or anything to my aid. I did not have the strength, and, strangely, I did not feel the need.
This place was strangely peaceful.
Clump, drag, clump, drag, clump, drag.
Someone was coming back. I tried to raise my head, but did not succeed. I did manage to flutter my eyelashes, however, and found that there was not much difference to be had. The light was merely a few, watery reflections on cave walls, a dim, bluish gray against the darker eigengrau of the stone.
It almost felt like I hadn’t opened my eyes at all.
Until I saw the creature that limped this way.
She was carrying a lantern, with a single candle dancing inside polished horn sides. But after the almost complete absence of other light, it was blinding. I didn’t realize that I had raised a hand to shield my eyes, until I heard a cackle.
“Not dead, then. No, no. Not yet.”
My eyes adjusted, and the creature became more visible. She was coming closer, and dragging something. I couldn’t see what it was, but I started to be able to see her, little by little: a wild tangle of hair, half dark, half gray; a bent body, although that might have been from pulling a weight; a leg that dragged almost uselessly behind her, and was responsible for her shambling gait; a walking stick, which also supported the lantern in its wavy crook, and explained the clumping sound. She looked very old, and very witchy.
