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Diana could only see the side of his face, but his was not an expression of wild joy like Drake’s. Caine’s eyes stared from beneath low brows. His mouth was drawn back in a grimace. It was the only time Diana had ever looked at him and found him ugly. No trace of the easy charm. The movie star bone structure was there, but now he looked like a shrouded corpse, a mockery, a fading echo.
“Look! Hah hah hah! It’s growing back!” Drake shrieked, and waved the end of his hideous tentacle in her face. He was right. Within the blunt-cut disk a bump was forming, a new growth. Like a salamander’s tail, the whip could be cut, but would regenerate.
“There! It’s the town,” Drake yelled. “There! Now you’ll see. Now you’ll all see!”
“What is this place?” Jack wondered aloud. He glared at Diana, accusing, blaming her.
Not my fault, Diana argued silently. Not my fault, Jack, not my fault you were weak and followed me, you stupid fool, you needy, stupid fool. Not my fault any of this.
I’m just trying to survive. I’m just trying to get by, like always, like always.
It’s what she did, Diana, survive. And always with style. Her own terms, no matter what anyone thought. It was her special genius: being used, but always using back. Being abused, but then returning the abuse, with interest. And remaining, always, Diana, cool Diana.
Not her fault, any of this.
“Look!” one of the soldiers yelled.
Something was happening in the road ahead. Like a small tornado, like a whirlwind made of coyotes, and there, at the center of the madness, a human body.
“Dekka,” Drake said with special relish.
Dekka dropped the coyotes. Dropped Edilio, too. No choice. Nothing she could do to help him now.
“Good-bye, Edilio,” she whispered.
Now there was only the mine shaft. She ran.
The Escalade skidded to a stop. Drake was out and running after her before the car had even stopped.
She had a head start of no more than thirty feet. And Drake was faster than she was.
The air cracked from the sound of his whip hand. She felt the breeze on the back of her neck. No way she’d make it back up the trail. No way.
Dekka spun and raised her hands.
Suddenly Drake’s legs were pumping in air. He rose off the ground in a vortex of dirt and rock. Like a slow-motion explosion had gone off under him. His whip hand twirled crazily.
“I’ll kill you, Dekka!” he yelled.
Dekka turned gravity back on, and Drake fell from ten feet up.
She turned and ran again, and now the coyotes were around her, bounding along on both sides of the trail, moving ahead of her. They would easily cut her off.
She powered up the hill, breath rasping in her throat. She turned a corner, and there was the new Pack Leader. She raised her hands. Too slow. They came from right and left. Leaped at her from all directions at once.
Dekka went down beneath a snarling, yelping, slashing pile of coyotes.
She screamed and tried to use her power, but iron jaws clamped her wrists.
The powerful made powerless.
The coyotes would have her.
FORTY-TWO
27 MINUTES
