Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(94)

I explained how she needed to slice the skin above and below the cuff, along the edges, like she was tracing around a Solo cup. The barbs were in too deep for the metal piece to be slipped down my arm, so I figured we’d just work that circle of skin down too. Easy, peasy. Oh, and we’d do this while excising my bicep. So a couple more slices on each side of the muscle, please.

I yanked off my sweater, twisting the sleeve for something to bite down on, because I’d seen that before in a movie.

When I stuffed the material between my teeth, she raised her scalpel-sharp foreclaw. “This is so messed up.” With her pupils the size of saucers, she began to cut around the cuff.

The pain made my eyes water, but I nodded for her to keep going.

Once she’d made all the cuts to my skin, blood was streaming, making everything slippery. I was growing so delirious that I thought I saw a flicker of enjoyment in her eyes. Red of tooth and claw.

But when I looked closer at her face, all I saw was queasy paleness.

I drew the material from my mouth. “You have t-to hurry,” I choked out. “With this much green and light . . . I’ll heal right up. When I pull the cuff higher, you slip beneath and”—my voice quavered—“yank on the muscle. Quick.” Back in went the sweater sleeve.

With an unsteady nod, she used her claws to get a good pincer hold of the slick muscle, then began her gruesome task.

Through gushing tears, I stared up at the ceiling, feeling pressure, pain, pressure, pain! I shrieked against my sweater. As if he’d heard even that muted sound, Ogen bellowed from somewhere above, bounding through the manor.

“We’re done with that part.” Why was she swaying so much? Or was that me? Delirious. Stay conscious, stay conscious. She started pulling down on the cuff.

Oh, God, the barbs! I vomited in my mouth, choking it back. My legs tottered as I tried to give her a counterforce.

Almost to my elbow, almost . . .

The metal came free in a rush of blood, hitting the floor with a bounce. Done! Shuddering, I spat out my sweater, then rested my good arm on a plant shelf. As I leaned over, I narrowed my eyes at the grisly sight of the cuff. The barbs looked like roots growing into my former skin.

Lark tore the hem of her jersey, using the material to tie a bandage around my mutilated, limp arm.

Good. Didn’t want to see it.

“I can’t believe we did that! Now don’t mummify me in vine, ’kay?”

Freed, I commanded everything to grow. Despite my injuries, I was brimming with power.

Conserve? I had for months.

My army obeyed so quickly, I could hear their skittering spurts. As stalks, stems, and leaves sprang to life, Lark’s eyes darted. “This is so disturbing.”

“So were your cobras.”

“What’s the game plan?” she asked.

“We’ll have to behead Ogen, right?” At her nod, I said, “To reach us back here, he’ll have to fight his way through a jungle, getting weaker and weaker. I’ll hold him in place while your wolves tear at his softer belly. After we force him to the ground, we’ll use their fangs to sever his neck.”

“Okay. They know the program.”

Somewhere above us, he roared, “I smell pretty MEAT.”

“He’s coming, Lark. Use my blood. Get it on any leaves you can. It’ll make them even stronger. I’ll create a last barrier to defend us.”

She dropped down to flatten her palms in the puddle at my feet. Patty-cake. Delirious.

“Our blood is mixing like crazy.” She rose to flick her coated fingers. Crimson on green. “Like we’re blood sisters. Think that’ll give me an extra life in this battle?”

“I have no idea.” While my barricade thickened, I spied something along the back wall . . .

A rosebush. My lips curved. Oh, Aric, you shouldn’t have.

As Lark lined up her wolves in front of the barricade, I grew the rose until the thorns were as big as blades, the stalks like chains. Recalling another Arcana’s tactic, I positioned the stalks just so for Ogen. A last backup.

Finished, I turned to Lark. “You could leave the wolves and go hide.” When she hesitated, I said, “Weirdly, I care if you live or die. I’ll be more concerned with saving your bony ass than taking him out. You can’t help me against him.”

“That doesn’t feel right. I’ll stick around—”

Rock and rubble exploded down from the ceiling; not fifty feet from us, Ogen had punched his way through the floor of the manor!

He lowered his head through the new hole, sharpening his horns on the jagged side of the opening. “Smell BLOOD!” When he dropped down into the warehouse, tremors rippled beneath our feet.

Lark’s face paled even more. “Oh. Shit.”

Ogen wouldn’t have to negotiate a jungle before he got to us, wouldn’t be weakened.

When the wolves hunched down, snarling to fight, I snapped out of my shock. With a wave of my hand, vines shot out to lasso him. They bound his wrists and ankles, coiling around his horns.

Once he was caught, the wolves attacked as one, going for his belly. He roared with pain as the three snatched chunks out of his hide. Greenish-yellow goo seeped from his wounds.

The falcon dove into the battle, hovering above Ogen’s head, scratching and pecking at his eyes.

“It’s working!” Lark cried.