SPELL TO UNBIND, A Page 18

  He then took his brother by the shoulder and shoved him hard in front of him. Kincaid stumbled into me, but I was able to stiffen against the blow of his body, which allowed him to remain upright and find his balance again. He eyed me gratefully, the gag still wedged into his mouth, and it honestly made me furious that Finn was being such a shit to his twin.

  With equal resolve, we began to shuffle back out the way we’d come, this time side by side. When we cleared the oval chamber, Finn called from behind us, “Turn left at the next corridor.

  I estimated he was about five feet behind us, and I wondered what I could do to take him down. His were the only other footfalls behind us, and I suspected he thought he could handle the two of us on his own.

  Of course, as Petra’s lieutenant, he was likely powerful enough to do just that.

  Still, I hadn’t made it ninety-three years as a successful thief without a bit of resourcefulness; however, Petra’s headquarters weren’t exactly filled with opportunity. In truth, I didn’t even know where the hell we were.

  As ordered, we turned left at the juncture and entered a darkened corridor that felt more like a tunnel than a hallway inside a building. Lights overhead illuminated as we approached, then dimmed again as we walked past, while the walls, ceiling, and floor appeared to be cement, and our footfalls reverberated noisily as we walked its length.

  There didn’t appear to be any doorways off the corridor either, which was odd. It seemed to go on and on, bending ever so slightly to the right and the grade leveling down as we moved along. Before I knew it, the air became damp and cold, and I swore we were now underground.

  At last, a giant riveted metal door appeared that looked quite capable of preventing either exit or entrance.

  Kincaid and I stopped in front of it and turned slightly to see if Finn would order us through. He walked forward, nudging between us before gripping the lever and hauling it up. He then yanked on the door.

  It groaned in annoyance, but light shone into the corridor from the open air beyond.

  Warm, humid, dank-smelling air hit us immediately. I wrinkled my nose, and Kincaid eyed me in alarm as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. In front of us was a tropical jungle that looked straight out of the Amazon. Vines slithered to the earth from massive tree trunks, and moss seemed to be growing on every surface. The ground itself was littered with bones—some human, some not, and based on experience, I can tell you that’s never a good sign.

  To make a creepy scene even creepier, an eerie series of clicks and high-pitched squeaks echoed out from something unseen, hidden by the tangle of foliage.

  While Kincaid and I were gawking at the scene, Finn put a hard hand on my shoulder.

  At the feel of his touch, aggressive though it was, my heart raced, and I had the intense urge to turn around and collapse against him. With great effort, I tamped the desire down and tried to assess the situation in front of us. No way was this an exit. We were someplace magical. Someplace dangerous.

  Finn lowered his lips close to my ear, and I closed my eyes in pleasure. “Word has it that you faced off against Jacquelyn’s ruby-throated dragon,” he whispered.

  “I did,” I said, forcing my voice to sound commanding and unaffected.

  Finn laughed softly, the sound throaty and exquisitely sexy. “Jacquelyn’s a trip. She loves monsters—the deadlier the better—but even she has her limits, or so I’m told.”

  Finn’s grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. “This is where we keep one of her rejects.”

  At that moment, a twelve-foot-tall spider’s leg stepped out of the foliage and pierced a skull lying on the green moss carpet in front of us. And then another leg appeared to crash down on the ground, sending bones flying. Then another leg. And another, until all eight legs and two sets of giant fangs dripping with spittle were in view just beyond the doorway. What light there was, coming from overhead, was blocked out by whatever massive body this creature possessed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kincaid’s head twist and rub hard against his shoulder. Managing to free himself from the gag, he yelled, “Finn! Don’t—!”

  But Finn the Flayer was already shoving me hard. I stumbled forward, lost my footing, and went down to the ground just as I heard the door slam shut behind me.

  Rolling quickly to the side, I managed to avoid being skewered by one of the spider’s legs, but even I knew that I stood little chance against this monster unless I managed to free myself from my bindings and improvised a weapon of some kind because I had no trinket on me that could take on something this big and this deadly.

  Even before I could come up with a reasonable plan, I had to dive to the side again to avoid the two fangs bearing down on me with alarming speed.

  I ran to the opposite end of the monster, away from the fangs and toward what I hoped was its rear. It spun around like a nimble-footed nymph.

  I dived again, tumbling in somersault fashion to avoid yet another leg. This time it thundered into the ground so hard, the terrain shook and more bones flew.

  For the next several seconds, all I did was weave, bob, dive, roll, and leap in a tight circle, trying my damnedest to avoid getting skewered, but the monster kept coming for me.

  And every time I thought I could make it into the coverage of the jungle, a leg or a fang blocked my escape.

  But then I noticed something. Where the spittle from the fangs would land, there was a slight sizzle, and a small blue flame would sprout up before quickly flaming out, leaving a charred patch of earth behind.

  This told me two things: First, avoid getting splattered by the monster’s spittle at all costs; and two, use the obviously corrosive substance to my advantage.

  My opportunity came when I darted in a figure-eight pattern and grabbed hold of one of the legs that’d just missed me by a fraction of an inch. The monster lifted the leg, with me still dangling from it, and began to bring it toward its fangs.

  Right before the monster could bite into me, I swung forward, raising my hands in front of me and spreading my arms as far apart as the shackles would allow. The chain between the two metal wristbands grazed the monster’s fangs with an eerie raking sound, and I dropped again to the ground and rolled away.

  Springing up again, I yanked hard on the shackles and the chain broke. My hands were now essentially free, and I was ready to fight back.

  As the monster came at me again, I reached for a legbone lying on the ground. Shoving some of my essence into it, I forced it to grow into a staff, then, using it like a pole vault, I managed to raise myself out of the way just as those fangs descended on me. Whipping around, I had to spin in another tight circle, dodging the fangs of the beast while getting closer to one of the legs. I then used the improvised staff like a cudgel, giving the monster’s leg a blow to one of the joints, using all the strength I could muster.

  As my staff connected, there was a satisfying splintering sound and a screech so loud that I nearly dropped my weapon. The monster sagged dramatically to one side, and when it rose up again, that leg dangled limply. Realizing I’d just discovered a huge vulnerability for the beast, I leapt and rolled forward again, back under the monster’s belly, before once again making a strike against the opposite leg.

  The beast stumbled and screeched, and it curled its ugly head down toward me, its fangs desperate to sink their length into my flesh. Deflecting those fangs with my staff wasn’t easy, but I managed. I then ducked low under that belly again, coming up right next to a rear leg.

  Whack! went my staff, and the beast’s leg joint crumpled. The monster jerked, its sound of rage and pain rising to ear-splitting levels again.

  My head pounded from the noise, but I never once slowed. I just kept striking at those leg joints until it was balanced on only three, and severely limited in its mobility.

  By now the monster’s massive belly was just overhead, and I could reach up and feel the hairs, thick as corn cobs and sharp as knives, crowding down around me.

/>   I’d have one more strike if I was lucky, and I had to be careful where to place it or this thing would die on top of me, impaling me while also smothering me to death.

  With a heaving chest, I gave myself just three deep lungfuls of air, recognizing that I was reaching the point of exhaustion. Sweat dripped down from my hairline into my eyes, and I blinked furiously to see.

  As I wheezed out that third and final breath, I spotted a red dot on the underbelly of the monster, and that seemed as good a target as any.

  Stumbling forward a few steps, I was able to position myself right under the red dot. The monster must’ve foreseen my motive, because it attempted to skitter backward, but I was faster.

  Using the very last of my remaining strength, I pivoted the sharp point of the staff up toward the red dot, jumping with the effort, and felt my weapon sink into the beast’s belly.

  It arched up and jerked violently. Far more violently, in fact, than I’d anticipated, and because I was still holding tightly to the staff, I was flipped up in the air a good fifteen feet, smacking hard into a tree.

  There was a disturbing crunching sound on impact, emanating from my rib cage in tandem with the thunk that sounded when my head hit the tree so hard that my vision closed to a pinpoint of light. I fell in a heap to the ground, feebly clawing at the earth, my left side erupting in pain. Fighting through the temptation to black out, I forced myself to gather my legs underneath me in an attempt to get up, worrying that the monster might still be alive and ready to finish me off. Blinking furiously, I focused only on pushing myself to my feet, managing to slowly rise. I got about halfway to a standing position when the world closed into darkness again and I sank back down to the ground. My body felt like it’d been clobbered by a wrecking ball. I sucked in a deep breath, which gave way to a coughing fit and brought new waves of pain.

  I put my hand to my mouth and it came away bloody. The blow to the tree had broken a rib and punctured a lung.

  “Fucker,” I gasped.

  But my various injuries weren’t something I could tend to at the moment. I had to get to my feet, because what I didn’t yet know was if I’d done the monster more harm than it’d done me. I curled onto my knees and, holding my ribs with one arm, I used the other to push up onto my feet again. This time I was able to stand about as well as a guy on his third six-pack.

  Swaying to and fro, I looked dully around, my vision closing to a pinprick and then expanding back out again, over and over, and the effect was making me dizzy as hell. It was also intensely difficult to both get enough air into my one working lung and try not to expand my ribcage. With each breath, the pain seemed to intensify, and I knew that I’d probably lose the ability to remain upright very soon.

  At last, I spotted the creature. It was on its back, three of its legs curling inward as small spasms made them shudder.

  The makeshift weapon I’d used to impale it had done the trick; a pool of pale blue liquid oozed out and coated a large section of the ground.

  Somewhat relieved, I sank back to my knees, even though I couldn’t be absolutely positive that I was out of danger yet; I simply didn’t have the strength or ability to move away from the scene.

  A long time seemed to pass. Maybe an hour. Maybe two, and my condition only worsened. I was having a hell of a time remaining conscious, and there was now a gurgling sound accompanying every breath.

  I had to get home to Ember or I wasn’t going to survive long enough to worry about what that might mean.

  With a substantial amount of effort, I rolled to my knees again, but I couldn’t stand. The best I could do was crawl forward in the general direction of the door but that was a substantial struggle. Still, I found the exit far more easily than I should’ve, given the way the world kept spinning around me every time I lifted my head.

  At the foot of the door, I inched my way up to the handle and tried to turn it but of course it was locked, so I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my trusty pick.

  The effort to pick the lock felt endless. It was so difficult to focus because my vision kept fading to a pinprick and then back out again and I could see my fingertips begin to turn blue from lack of oxygen. My one working lung felt congested and I simply couldn’t get the air I needed to concentrate longer than a few seconds.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, I felt the lock give way.

  “Thank the gods,” I whispered. Holding my ribcage with my right arm, I used my left to crawl up the door, turn the handle, and pull. It opened with a rush, and I lost my balance. Falling backward, I didn’t even try to fight to save myself. I was too weak, slowly suffocating to death.

  The best I could do was brace for impact, and to that, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the blow, but something caught me just as I was about to land hard on the ground, and I was then hoisted up into the air.

  I coughed hard and wheezed out a cry of pain as I was lifted up.

  “Where does it hurt?” a voice asked.

  My eyes were closed, and my head lolled on my neck. I could no more answer the voice than I could fight off the arms that were holding me.

  “Esmé,” the voice called. And that’s when I recognized it.

  “Kin..caid?” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  I opened my eyes a fraction and saw my protégé, looking a bit worse for wear. His left eye was black-and-blue, and his lower lip was bleeding and puffy. His shirt was torn and dirty, and his hair was an absolute mess. He looked like he’d gone a few rounds with Gorch. I coughed several times and gasped for air that barely provided my working lung with enough to live on. “H-h-how …”

  “It’s been a while since my brother and I went at it, but I managed to get a couple of good punches in and sneak back here. We don’t have much time, but I think I know a way out. Can you walk?”

  My head lolled on my neck again, and it was all I could do to turn it back and forth a few times. No way could I manage to even stand at the moment.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll carry you. It’ll slow us down, but I think we can still make it.”

  My lips quirked upward in what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “I have to … home,” I whispered. “I’ll die if …”

  “Where’s home?” he asked.

  My mind wanted to reply. I knew it was important, but I was also fading fast, having a hard time staying conscious.

  “Esmé,” Kincaid repeated urgently. “Where’s home?”

  “Warehouse,” I wheezed then coughed up some blood again. “End of … Pendleton. Old Town North.” I managed.

  Kincaid gathered me carefully against him and began to walk forward. It reminded me so much of just a few days before when Dex had done the same. Just like then, I allowed myself to let go, dipping my head against Kincaid’s chest, wrapping my palm around the charm at my neck. And then I was out like a light.

  Chapter Twelve

  Day 3

  Bright light and the sound of birdsong awakened me. I stirred and felt Ember nuzzle against me. I curled around her warm body and kissed the top of her head. She licked my nose and I smiled.

  And then everything that’d happened the day before came rushing back and I sat bolt upright.

  I looked around my room for a moment, trying to fill in the pieces between being carried out of Petra’s lair by Kincaid and arriving here, but I had no memory of it. I looked down at myself and saw that I was wearing only my tank top from the day before and a thong.

  Thank the gods I wasn’t naked. I then looked to Ember, who was staring at me with her knowing olive-green eyes, as if she understood exactly what I was thinking.

  Truth is, she probably did.

  I felt my ribs, gingerly at first, with my fingers. There was no pain or even discomfort. I then put a hand to my head, which felt clear and whole.

  All seemed well.

  Laying a hand on Ember, I kissed the little divot between her eyes and said, “Thank you.”

  She licked my nose agai
n.

  I got up, shuffled into some leggings and a sweatshirt, and headed out of my bedroom in search of Dex.

  When I got to the catwalk, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was an argument happening on the ground floor, and I recognized both voices.

  “Shit!” I said, jogging to the middle of the catwalk, where I hopped over the railing, caught the rope, and slid down fireman-style.

  I landed dramatically in front of Kincaid and Dex, both of them flexing their arms and curling their hands into fists. Whatever was going on, it was bad, and it was escalating.

  “Hello, luv,” Dex said in a stilted voice, without turning his gaze away from Kincaid.

  Uh, oh. My homeboy was maaaaad. “Dex,” I said casually. “How’s things?”

  “A bit sticky this morning, now that you ask. This bloke thinks he’s got the run of the place. Won’t leave, even though I told him all’s well and he should git.”

  “How’re you feeling?” Kincaid asked me.

  My gaze went to him, and suddenly I realized that Dex was in very, very grave danger. If things escalated to an actual fight between the two, there was no doubt my second would be slaughtered.

  Forcing myself to remain calm I quickly thought through my options. “I’m good,” I told him. “Right as rain. Turns out I just had my bell rung, and all I needed was a good night’s sleep.”

  He considered me with a doubtful frown.

  Turning away from him, I focused on Dex. I’d have to get him out of here immediately. “How’d your recon go yesterday, buddy?”

  Dex continued to angrily curl his hands into fists and glare hard at the stranger in his kitchen. “Well enough. I’ve got a lead. I’m headed back to D.C. today.”

  “No time like the present,” I said.

  Dex finally turned his head and settled his flinty gaze on me, but he did it slowly, as if to drive home the point that I’d said something out of turn. Which, realistically, I had.

  “I could’ve come to get you last night,” he said, his tone cold. “You didn’t have to let this mongrel bring you home and expose us.”