Piper hardly noticed the trajectory of the second car. Her attention was locked on the sight revealed by the removal of the two vehicles. With its path now cleared, the most horrifying beast she’d ever seen lurched into the open.
Its body was the same size as the cars it had been hurling, but it seemed twice as large with all the tentacles. It looked like a massive, scaled, warty octopus with dull red skin patterned in random, ugly whorls. Those huge tentacles rippled bonelessly as the monster half crawled, half dragged itself onto the lawn. There it paused, apparently surveying the scene even though it had no discernible eyes.
No one moved. They all seemed too terrified to even breathe.
The beast’s front tentacles whipped out with terrifying speed. It snatched two prefects around the middle, yanking them effortlessly into the air. The beast reared back, revealing a huge, fang-lined hole underneath its bulbous head. Before anyone could react, before its victims could do more than scream, the monster shoved the two humans into that wet hole. It tilted forward as it pulled the tentacles out of its mouth—without any people in their grasp.
Piper gagged. That monster had just eaten two prefects.
All at once, the people on the lawn realized that holding perfectly still wouldn’t save them. Pandemonium erupted. Guns went off, all aimed at the creature. Magic blasted, fireballs slamming into it. Half the fighters up and ran for it, bolting in every direction.
The beast bellowed, pulling all its tentacles in close. Its body deflated like a puffer fish, shrinking to a third its previous size. When the attacks continued, the beast reared, swelling back to its full size as it flung its tentacles in every direction. It bellowed again and flowed toward the nearest group of prefects.
Hearing its bellow chilled Piper’s blood as déjà vu swept through her. She knew that sound. She remembered another sight of a red tentacle—wrapped around Ash’s neck and dragging him back into the secret passageway at her house the night the Gaians had tried to steal the Sahar.
“The choronzon?” she choked. “That’s the choronzon?” If she hadn’t just seen it contract its body, she never would have believed it could fit inside the Consulate.
Ash nodded grimly, his face pale as he watched the monster slaughter a path through the prefects toward the center of the lawn. Her mother had told her the Gaians had borrowed the choronzon from some allies. Piper had never imagined the idiots would still have the monster at their hideout.
She cast Ash a disbelieving look. “You fought that thing? How?”
Ash stared at the beast, jaw clenched tight, and didn’t answer.
“It was being controlled,” Lyre explained tersely. “Like a magic-dampening collar, only the choronzon was dampened and under someone’s power. They were dictating its movements like a puppet. That made it weak and slow.”
Just like Mona had said. Piper licked her lips. “It’s not being controlled any more, is it?”
“No.”
The monster bellowed again as it wrapped three tentacles around a car and rolled it out of the way. The four prefects crouched behind the vehicle ran for their lives. All the attacks on the monster were making it angrier. Through the haze of rain, Piper couldn’t see if they were even injuring the choronzon. It plowed through the remaining prefects. Most of the haemons and daemons had already fled. The choronzon wasn’t eating people anymore—it must have been full—but it kept on killing.
Choronzons came from the Underworld but they weren’t daemons. What they were, really, was a kind of animal—terrible, murderous animals. They weren’t daemons any more than a tiger was a human because it also lived on earth.
“Well,” Lyre said shakily, “I think it’s become clear that we won’t be searching for any evidence today. We should go.”
Piper nodded numbly. She hoped Miysis had taken her uncle to safety. She’d have to figure out how to rescue him later.
The breeze kicked up, blowing icy rain into her back. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She wished so badly she could go home. Instead, they would have to walk for hours to get back to their car, assuming the prefects hadn’t towed it, and then drive for hours to confuse their trail before finding some new hole to hide in. She wanted to cry at the thought.
Rain whipped sideways as the wind gusted. Ash stiffened, looking over his shoulder. Across the lawn, the choronzon stopped in mid-attack. Its tentacles undulated like a person tapping their fingers in thought.
“That wasn’t a natural wind,” Ash whispered tersely. He turned into the fitful gusts, eyes narrowed to dark slits.
Piper watched the choronzon rear up, front tentacles waving as it opened its gaping maw as though tasting the air. A long-forgotten trivia fact about choronzons popped into her head. Her heart skipped in her chest. Choronzons hunted by scent and their strongest trigger was—
She whirled and grabbed Ash’s arm, not daring to take her attention off the choronzon. The traitorous wind gusted again, blowing her wet hair into her face as it carried their scent straight to the choronzon.
“Ash,” she gasped. “Ash, are you bleeding? Please tell me you’re not bleeding!”
He stared at her in bewilderment, then pulled up his shirt. A shallow, vertical scratch scored his abs below his ribcage.
“A rock when we were digging out of the hole . . . Piper, what—”
“Get up,” she yelled, yanking on his arm. He shot to his feet without question, surprising her until she realized he was staring beyond her, his face white. She glanced over her shoulder and saw exactly what she’d feared.
The choronzon was on the move, surging across the ground—straight toward them.
. . .
They ran.
Piper could only make out the dark shadows of trees as they whipped past. She clung to Ash’s hand, totally dependent on his guidance in the dark forest. Lyre pounded after them, audible every time his feet splashed through a puddle on the rain-soaked ground.
“What the hell is going on?” he panted furiously.
“Choronzons are blood hunters,” Piper yelled. “Once they taste someone’s blood, they’ll hunt that person relentlessly until they kill him.”
“So what?” he demanded.
“That choronzon got a taste of Ash back at my Consulate.” Terror squeezed her. “And it’s caught his scent. It’s coming after him.”
Lyre swore passionately. “What should we—”
“We run,” Ash growled. “It’s not that fast, not in these trees. We run and try to lose it. If we can’t, then you two will run one way and I’ll go the other way. Once it’s off your trail, I’ll escape where it can’t follow.”
For a second, Piper had no idea what he meant—then she realized. Without glamour, he had wings. He would fly. The choronzon couldn’t catch him in the skies. Her fear dropped a notch. They would be okay. They could handle this.
They burst out of the trees into a small clearing. A stitch burned in her lungs but she ignored it. They had a lot more running to do before they escaped the—
Ash jerked backward and fell. She tripped over him before she could stop, crashing to the ground. Lyre skidded to a stop and turned back.
“Ash!” She crawled over as he groaned. Her stomach swooped sickeningly when she saw the arrow sticking out of his shoulder.
“What the hell?” Lyre gasped, kneeling on Ash’s shoulder. “Where did that—”
“Get it out,” Ash rasped. “Now!”
Lyre grabbed the shaft and ripped the arrow out, not taking the time to be careful. Ash arched with pain, then slumped. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed up on his hands and knees.
“Ah, shit,” he panted. He pressed one hand to his face. “Shiiiit.”
“Ash?” Piper whispered.
He slowly shook his head, simultaneously listing to one side. Lyre grabbed him, steadying him. Ash sank back down.
“Shit,” he said again. “Arrow was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“Poisoned,” repeated a
nother voice, rough like a chain smoker and high with glee. “And he never even saw it coming.”
Piper looked up sharply. A woman stood a dozen feet away, a bow in her hands, arrow nocked and pointed toward them. She was short and muscular with untamed hair and some sort of feathery cape falling down her back.
A flash of shadow above. Another woman dropped from the sky. As she landed, she folded huge, feathered bird wings against her back. Three more of the female daemons spiraled out of the sky and landed, all of them armed with bows. A total of twelve formed a half-circle of bristling arrows all pointed their way.
Swallowing hard, Piper recognized them as harpies: Underworld daemons known for their mercenary habits and unfaltering loyalty to whoever paid them the most money.
Lyre made a sound of disgust. “Who sent you vultures to clean up? The same idiot who let that choronzon slip its leash?”
“We let the choronzon off its leash, dog,” the first harpy said haughtily. “On purpose. What better way to flush out dear little Ash? Loose the choronzon and create a little wind to blow his scent around. We knew he was skulking around here somewhere, trying to salvage something from the mess he made.” She sneered at Ash. “Not that anything you do now could save you.”
Piper clutched Ash’s shoulder as he pushed himself up. He swayed sideways until she propped him up.
“So . . .” he slurred. “You’re the ones who backed up the Gaians that night . . . wouldn’t’ve thought they’d have the cash to buy the likes of you.”
“Oh, they weren’t paying us. Our current employer merely loaned out the choronzon and us. As a favor, you know. We almost got you with our pet too.”
“Who?” Ash demanded. “Who’s paying you?”
The harpy smiled sweetly. “Why, the same one who’s paying you, Ash.”
Piper nearly choked. Ash was being paid to steal the Sahar? He was doing this all for money? Lyre had implied Ash was trying to save his own life!
“Not that anyone would pay you for this utter failure,” the harpy went on with vicious delight. “Samael has decided he has no more use for his whipping dog. Didn’t you realize he wanted you out of the picture after he sent Cottus to kill you?” She sighed dramatically. “But you just wouldn’t die.”
Piper struggled to breathe. Samael. Samael was the head of the Hades family, the family that originally stole the Sahar 500 years ago and had only reluctantly agreed to turn it over to the Ra family for it to be sealed away. It was exactly like a daemon warlord to agree to give up the Sahar while secretly hiring someone to steal it back for him.
And, apparently, Samael had hired Ash to do it.
No wonder Lyre said Ash would die because he didn’t have the Sahar. To fail to fulfill a job for Samael was to sign your own death warrant.
“I’m hard to kill,” Ash told the harpy, his voice still slurred. “What in the name of Acheron makes you think you can accomplish what Cottus couldn’t?”
“You’re already poisoned,” the harpy taunted. “You—”
Ash flung a hand up. The air cracked like a snap of thunder. As one, the harpies were blasted off their feet. Half their bows splintered into pieces. Ash tried to straighten and almost flattened Lyre as his balance failed.
“Damn,” he grunted. “Everything is spinning.” He took a deep breath. “Help me up. The choronzon is getting close.”
Piper and Lyre grabbed his arms and pulled him up. He leaned heavily into Lyre, throwing out one arm as though he were standing on a ship deck in high seas. Piper grabbed it, trying to steady him.
“You shouldn’t be able to stand,” the harpy leader shrieked, pushing herself to her feet. “How are you standing?”
Piper glanced sharply at Ash and remembered what he’d told her after the spider bit him back at the apartment. He was immune to most venoms and poisons. His body was already fighting it off. Relief swept through her.
The harpy spread her wings wide. Her shattered bow hung from one hand. “Fine. Die your way. It will be worse for you in the end.”
The other harpies rose. All of them were grinning. Ash growled and lifted a hand, preparing to blast them again.
With the sound of shattering wood, the choronzon burst into the clearing behind them.
The harpies and the monster charged at the same time. Ash unleashed a blast of magic but lurched off balance. The magic only caught half the harpies, knocking them backward with impossible force. The other six screamed like angry birds.
Piper punched the first one to reach her, her fist breaking the woman’s nose and throwing her head back. Her second punch hit the woman’s exposed windpipe. The harpy staggered back, unable to breathe. Before Piper could find her next target, hands grabbed her. Claws dug into her flesh. She was wrenched upward.
She swung a foot up and kicked hard in a distinctly soft spot. A shriek of pain. The hands released her. She dropped, landing painfully on her feet and dropping to her knees.
In those few seconds of battle, the choronzon reached them.
Tentacles were suddenly everywhere. Harpies shrieked. Piper scrambled backward, pulling a knife from her boot. A tentacle whipped toward her. She raised her knife.
Someone grabbed her and yanked her backward. She thought it was Ash or Lyre—until she was yanked into the sky again. Another harpy slammed into them in the air, ripping her knife from her hand. A third harpy grabbed her other arm as they beat their wings, lifting her higher. She screamed and kicked furiously. They laughed, easily avoiding her flailing feet. As they shifted, she was awarded a glimpse of the ground, already thirty feet below.
The choronzon was a writhing mass of tentacles. There were four harpies sprawled unmoving in the grass and a fifth hung limply in the coils of a tentacle. The monster reared, its fanged mouth gaping as it bellowed its bloodlust.
On his knees before the beast was Ash. Even as she watched, he tried to rise and staggered, struggling with the debilitating effects of the poison. The choronzon lunged forward, tentacles lashing toward its long-desired prey.
Harpy wings appeared in front of her, blocking her vision.
From far below, a male voice cried out in agony.
Piper screamed a matching cry of denial. Harpies laughed as they swept her away into the dark sky, allowing her only one last glimpse of the choronzon through the rain as it reared high and bellowed its triumph to the uncaring night.
CHAPTER 15
“LET me go!” Piper yelled.
She didn’t struggle against the harpy’s grip. Judging by the distant flames of the burning Consulate, she was very, very high up. The other six harpies rose in slow spirals with lazy flaps of their bird-like wings. The fires of the ruined house were her only landmark. Everything else was darkness and icy rain.
“Where are you taking me?” Fear pounded through her. She couldn’t see the choronzon anymore. She didn’t know if Ash and Lyre were alive.
“Not far,” the harpy holding her cackled. “Only a little higher, my dear.”
Her blood chilled. “Higher where?”
“This should be fine.” The harpy leveled out, beating her wings to hover gracelessly. With a sharp laugh, she let Piper go.
She screamed as she dropped. The harpy grabbed her arm again. Claws tore into her skin, bringing her up short. She screamed again as pain lanced her arm and shoulder. Another harpy grabbed her other arm and the two daemons stretched her between them, hanging her by her wrists over empty darkness.
The harpy leader maneuvered to hover in front of Piper. “Now, girl, I don’t think I need to explain what will happen if you don’t tell us what we want to know.” She pointed downward and leered hideously. Harpy stereotypes were not exaggerated. The woman was ugly.
“Tell me,” the daemon commanded, “where is the Sahar Stone?”
“I don’t know!”
“You do know,” the harpy snarled. “You had the fake Stone that fool Micah stole. You have the real one too, I know it.”
“I don’t have it!”
/> The leader slashed a look at the two harpies holding Piper. They let her slide a few inches in their grip. She swallowed a scream, squeezing her eyes shut against the terrifying darkness below her.
“I don’t know,” she cried. “I don’t have it.”
“Yes, you do! Tell me or we drop you to your death and search your shattered body instead.”
“I don’t have it!” Tears mixed with the rain. “Please. I don’t have it.”
The harpy made a sound of disgust. “If you don’t have it, who does? Don’t pretend you didn’t take it.”
“Ash,” she gasped. “He stole it from me. He has it.” Maybe they would take her back down and call off the choronzon before it was too late.
“He doesn’t have it,” the harpy sneered. “If he did, he would already be kneeling before Samael with the Stone and begging for leniency.”
“He does! He stole it from me!”
“Liar,” the harpy screeched. “You have it!”
“No I don’t!” Piper screamed. She wanted to cry from the lethal irony. The harpy was wrong about everything—except that Piper had the Sahar. “Ash has it,” she tried again, her voice high with desperation. “Samael hired him, didn’t he? Ash is keeping the Sahar for Samael.”
“Hired him?” the harpy repeated with a cruel chuckle. “Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression. Samael doesn’t pay little Ash. He, how would you say it? Samael hurts Ash less if he stays obedient.” The harpies all laughed.
“W-what?”
“Didn’t he tell you?” the harpy taunted. “The noble Ashtaroth is nothing but Samael’s whipping dog, his right-hand hitman. When Samael snaps his fingers, little Ash jumps to obey. Did you think he was helping you out of the goodness of his heart? He does nothing Samael doesn’t command.”
The harpies cackled, delighted by Piper’s transparent horror.
“Now.” The harpy hovered closer, getting in Piper’s face. “Ash would only be following you around if you have the Stone or know where it is. One of the two. Tell me now or you die right here.”