The Trap (The Magnificent 12 #2)(21)

He swung the driver so hard that Fatface wasn’t fat anymore.

“No! No!” Six Toes cried.

Paddy tossed the driver aside.

“And this,” Paddy said, “is a nine iron.”

It’s best not to dwell on what Paddy did with the nine iron. Suffice it to say that five minutes later there was a sudden opening in the leadership of the Black Hand.

It was such a bad afternoon for the Black Hand that—under new leadership—they reorganized and renamed their organization. Out of respect for Nafia assassin Paddy Trout, they called their new criminal gang the Mafia.

And Paddy had earned the nickname that would follow him for the rest of his long life: Nine Iron.





Chapter Fifteen



Huang Long, the Dragon King, could move pretty fast for a creature the size of a subway train. With a whoosh he flew overhead. Mother dragon flew with him.

Xiao grabbed Mack’s arm and pulled him along, even as she swiftly changed from human back to dragon. In seconds Mack was airborne on Xiao’s scaly back, zooming crazily through the palace in the wake of the first family of Dragon Land.

They burst through the door and out into the open.

Instantly Mack spotted a small army of creatures—Tong Elves, Skirrit, and Lepercons—rushing down the long ramp. Smoke billowed behind them.

A dragon the color of ripe plums swirled before them, and even from this distance Mack could hear a stunningly loud dragon voice shouting, “Back! This is Dragon Home!”

Two of the Skirrit were hauling an odd, ornate tube, like a cannon lifted off its wheels, or like a really heavy bazooka.

They stopped, rested the barrel on the backs of two Tong Elves, and took aim at the purple dragon.

Mack saw the explosion before he heard the bang. A spray of tiny bright pellets—they sparkled like diamonds—hit the purple dragon.

“Sizzle cannon!” Xiao yelled.

Instantly the dragon fell to the ground.

Xiao cried out in terror and rage. Mack could feel her muscles tense beneath her scales.

Huang Long looked back at his daughter. “Go! I will take care of this!”

“Father, no!” Xiao cried. “I can fight!”

“It’s not us they want,” Huang Long snapped. “It’s the humans! Get them to safety. Take the barge! And remember: the key is the Vargran tongue. Each of the Twelve will have a different resonance of the enlightened puissance, a different special ability. But it will all rest on Vargran!”

“Go, little one!” her mother cried. “You must fulfill your destiny! But keep up with your algebra homework!”

Xiao started to argue; Mack could almost feel the defiance. But with a shudder Xiao said, “Yes, Father. Yes, Mother.”

She turned suddenly, practically leaving Mack’s stomach behind. They sped back to where a very frustrated Stefan and Jarrah waited.

Xiao landed and changed to her human look. Which, by the way, had some creepy moments. Half dragon, half girl is not a good look for anyone. “We should run,” she panted. “I can’t carry the three of you.”

Mack didn’t need to be asked twice. The four of them ran. Across manicured lawns, across decorative arched bridges, shortcutting through a palace done up in pale pink and gold lace.

Overhead the dragons flew with a whoosh of wind to confront the menace.

“Can’t your dad just hose them down with his fire breath?” Jarrah asked as they ran.

Mack could see her point. He’d spotted at least half a dozen dragons so far. It was hard to see how anything could stand up to them.

“Fire breath?” Xiao snorted. “What, like Eragon? Like in Tolkien? Does my father look like Smaug to you?” Then in a somewhat less offended tone, “The fire breathing? That’s our western cousins, not us. We are not those dragons. We are not barbarians. First, my father will attempt to reason with the invaders.”

They were nearing one of the towering walls of the cave. Mack spotted an opening, like the mouth of a cave, bordered in carved wood. It was simple, nothing ornate.

They were racing alongside the gentle river that wandered through Dragon Home, and Mack realized that the river must flow out through that opening. He couldn’t see it very clearly from this angle. He couldn’t see much of anything because sweat was stinging his eyes.

But he did notice the four Skirrit bounding along the far side of the river, keeping pace on their crazy grasshopper legs, taking twenty-yard steps, racing to cut them off.

And he noticed that at least two of them had something that looked a little like guns—but could also have been bent soda cans.

Skreeet!

That made everyone miss a step. No one had ever heard that sound before. And the missed step saved them.

A spray of crystalline pellets went shooting by, just in front of them.



“Owww!” Jarrah cried.

She stared at the back of her hand (still running, of course; she was curious about the pain, but not curious enough to stand around examining herself).

“It’s a . . . a thing!” Jarrah cried.

“Get it off you!” Xiao yelled.

Jarrah picked at it with her finger.

“No, no! Not with your finger! It’ll sizzle your finger, too!”

As she ran, Jarrah dug out a coin from her pocket and used the edge of it to pry the tiny, painful bead from her hand.