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“Hold on!” Pritkin told me, and threw his weight onto the long rudder pole hanging off the back. Our course corrected with a lurch that sent me and the captain staggering to the other side of the barge. The only reason we didn’t fall off was the railing, which was sturdier than it looked. And then we were plowing straight into the side of Saunders’ ship.
Chapter Twenty-six
The impact slammed me into the railing and the reverberation hit the inside of my skull like cannon fire, unbelievably loud and echoing. Saunders’ ship tilted, sending a few mages overboard and making the rest very unhappy. The Chinese captain was screaming orders to his men as war mages swarmed over our deck. There were too many of them to fight, but the crazy staggering course of the conjoined ships was making that pretty much impossible anyway.
The initial impact had thrown us almost beyond Dante’s property, but something seemed to be wrong with the navigation system, because the two ships had no sooner reached the highway than they lurched drunkenly back toward the building again. The captain was desperately trying to free his ship, but the dragon masthead had crashed through a porthole on Saunders’ ship and it seemed to be stuck.
The weight was dragging down the other vessel, and tilting it dangerously. “The other side! Get to the other side!” someone yelled, and a large number of mages ran to the opposite half of the ship, trying to compensate. But it was too late.
Dante’s was rushing toward us, we were at least ten stories up and there was nothing underneath but burning cars and asphalt. The captain took a final look at the situation, said something that sounded pretty profane and pulled a gigantic ax out of his belt. A second later, the massive dragon’s neck was in two pieces and we were sliding away from the other ship.
The efforts Saunders’ ship had been making to compensate for our weight backfired when we suddenly departed. The other ship flipped completely over, spilling mages across the parking lot like salt from a shaker. Shields bloomed everywhere and then Pritkin was yelling in my ear. “Brace for impact!”
He threw his shields around us, and a second later, while I was still looking down at the parking lot, we plowed into the side of Dante’s.
The barge crashed through a window, into a bedroom, out into the corridor and through another wall separating the hall from a stairwell. We hadn’t even stopped moving when Pritkin grabbed my hand, towed me off the side and down the stairs. Unfortunately, the mages had pretty good reflexes, too, and ten or more had still been on the barge when it took the plunge.
A spell sizzled overhead, slamming against the concrete wall directly in front of us. Pritkin still had shields up, but he couldn’t maintain them long and no way could we fight so many. We hopped over the railing to the next level, and I spied a number six on the stairwell door.
“Get us to the fourth floor and I can get us out of this!” I told him as a spell evaporated his shields. He nodded, looking a little gray in the face, and we ran full out.
Two flights of stairs had never seemed so long. We didn’t worry about safety, about bruised knees when we tripped or scraped flesh when we couldn’t stop in time and slammed into a wall. We just kept going: past number five, dodge a spray of bullets, around the bend in the stairs, jump to the next flight to avoid being fried by a fireball, down another flight and finally through the door to four.
“This way!” I yelled, and we pelted down the corridor and into the tiki bar.
I hauled him through a side door and into the tiny storage room I’d been calling home. “Now what?” he demanded as feet pounded into the club.
“Now this,” I said, and gave him a shove. He fell backward through the portal, and at the same moment, a mage flung open the door. He was young, with
brown hair and glasses and a wash of freckles over his nose. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. Then I jumped for the portal, he threw a spell and the world exploded in pain.
I tumbled out into the Old West saloon and rolled into Pritkin. I stared up at the out of order sign on the telephone and gasped in pain. My whole body was wracked with it, but my left leg felt like it was on fire.
The sound of clinking glasses, laughter and music drifted through the red velvet curtains, like there wasn’t a war going on upstairs. Pritkin caught sight of my face. “What happened?”
I just stared at him, tears flooding my eyes, and shook my head. If I tried to speak, I was going to scream. But as bad as the pain was, we couldn’t stay there. The mage had seen me disappear. He’d be right behind us.
Pritkin seemed to get the idea. He looped an arm under my shoulders and around my back, and he pulled me up. I put as much weight as possible on the good leg and we limped out into the club. People were everywhere, but thankfully the lighting was so dim, mostly from strings of lanterns overhead, that we didn’t attract as much attention as our looks probably warranted. Of course, the vision onstage might have also had something to do with that.
Dee Licious was lying in the spotlight on a shiny black baby grand, her dress a blinding mass of skintight fuchsia sequins, complete with matching boa. She was belting out a Liza montage and flirting with the handsome pianist at the same time. We turned toward the street, putting the stage at our backs, only to see two war mages stroll by outside.
“This way,” Pritkin said brusquely, pulling me back the other way. We hobbled through the forest of little tables toward the darkness at the side of the stage, where a red exit sign beckoned like a lifeline. We’d almost reached it when Pritkin stiffened. “What is it?” I asked.
“We have company.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see a group of dark shapes spill out of the alcove, looking around blindly while their eyes adjusted. Then Pritkin threw us through a door beside the stage, closing it firmly. There was no lock, but considering who was chasing us, that was kind of irrelevant anyway.
Dee Sire paused in front of a lighted mirror to stare at us. It looked like this was the performers’ dressing room. In addition to the table Dee was using as a vanity, there was a rack of colorful costumes in a corner and a towering pile of shoe boxes on a chair.
Dee smiled at me a lot sweeter than on our previous meeting. “Well, hello there.” Then she caught sight of Pritkin. “Damn, girl. And I thought you couldn’t look any worse than last time.”
He glanced at me, but I just shook my head and fell onto a chair beside the door. There was no way to explain the fabulousness that was Dee Sire in a couple of words, and I wasn’t up to any more. “Nice dress,” I gasped.
It was about eighty acres of cheap white satin, cut low and short and festooned with a train covered in fat white roses. More were tied into a careless bundle on the dressing table and another pile adorned her towering wig—bright red this time—anchoring a frothy veil. A wedding dress, drag queen style.
“It’s courtesy of that cow Licious,” Dee said, turning back to her mirror. “She knows damn well I do Liza. But we drew for the opening spot, and what does she decide she just has to sing? Sticking me with the tired old ‘Like a Virgin’ shtick. Although I will admit, it’s getting a little ridiculous at her age—”
“We, er, we’re kind of in a bind,” Pritkin said, cutting her off. “Is there a back way out?”
