The Trap (The Magnificent 12 #2)(25)

“I have come to—” the monster said.

Nine Iron shot him.

He stepped over the bug’s body and kept going down the hill. He didn’t know why the bug had talked to him, or what the bug was, but Nine Iron thought he looked like the kind of bug that, if smaller, would attack an oat crop.

And Nine Iron did not approve of oat pests.

He went on for another half hour; and this time as he turned a blind corner, he was confronted by two fellows that might conceivably be human, except that they were very short, with stubby legs, and they were wearing lederhosen with an image of a tree on the front.

They each had a club and they smacked the clubs into their palms in a tough-guy manner. “Now listen, human slime—”

So Nine Iron shot them, too.

The next monster Nine Iron saw was just a leg. At least that’s all he saw at first, because the leg itself from ankle to knee was about five feet. Then another five feet from knee to hip. And then about ten more feet from there to the neck.

The head was about twenty-five feet up.

Nine Iron shot this creature, too, but the creature didn’t seem to notice. It reached down with one massive hand and lifted him up to examine him more closely.

The creature was covered with white fur that changed color as Nine Iron watched. It was ever so slightly pink.

Later Nine Iron would learn that this was a Gudridan. And that you never wanted to see a pink Gudridan. And if you ever happened to see one gone full red, it would be the last thing you saw.

Some instinct warned Nine Iron that irritating the giant any further would be a bad thing. Probably it was the sight up close and stinky of the Gudridan’s gaping mouth filled with large teeth.

“I have an appointment,” Nine Iron said. “With the Pale Queen.”

The giant said nothing. But a smaller creature, like a skinny dalmatian dog with a disfigured face and chewed-off fingers, said, “Yeah. So follow us.”

Nine Iron jerked his head back up the trail. “Sorry about the others. . . .”

“Don’t be stupid,” the Lepercon snapped. “If you hadn’t killed them, the Pale Queen would think you were soft.”

“Ah,” Nine Iron said. He thought about it for a second, then shot the Lepercon.

To the giant he said, “Okay, let’s go.”





Chapter Eighteen



Somehow—no one saw her move—Risky went from the mountaintop to the wall, just a baseball throw away. She had the same deep red hair and the same scary, intense green eyes.

“I see you’ve found the dragon folk,” Risky said. “Very nicely done, Mack. And you have this one”—she stabbed a finger at Jarrah—“to help guide you in the magic tongue.”

“Say what?” Jarrah asked.

“Vargran,” Risky explained. She seemed quite friendly. Maybe a little cocky, but no more arrogant or dangerous than any number of cheerleaders back at Mack’s school. “And now the littlest dragon.”

Risky’s eyes grew colder as she contemplated Xiao. Xiao was still human in appearance. But obviously Ereskigal—aka Morgan le Fay and a host of other evildoers—was not easily tricked by appearances. “I really thought we’d finished the last of you off. But you had only found a nice hole to hide in. Now that we’ve found your hideaway beneath the Forbidden City, we’ll come for your sorry race soon.”

Xiao said, “I take from your words that your evil servants were repulsed from Dragon Home.”

Risky smiled. “Oh, yes. It was a pretty one-sided battle. You dragons may not be fierce, but you do know how to summon the waters and make them do your bidding. So many Skirrit and Tong Elves died. Such a pity: all that tasty meat gone to waste. And I am really hungry.”

“I can still do the burning thing!” Mack threatened.

“Yes,” Risky admitted. “But you know it won’t work on me twice, right? Now. The question before us is: What’s on the menu? Human meat? Dragon meat?”

Xiao slipped from her human mask and became the dragon once again. Then, without warning, she shot into the sky.

Mack was sure she would do something cool to Risky. Risky seemed a bit concerned herself, but Xiao rose, turned, and raced away along the wall.

She disappeared behind a mountain.

“Okay, then,” Risky said. “Human meat it is.”

“Run!” Mack yelled.

They ran in the same direction Xiao had taken. They leaped down elongated stairs.

“That’s good,” Risky called after them. “Get the blood flowing! It makes you more tender.”

Mack risked a quick glance back at Risky, who was already beginning to change in rather dramatic ways. For one thing, wings were growing from her shoulders. For another thing, a new set of arms was protruding from her midriff.

And her green eyes were bulging, bulging, and becoming patterned in thousands of small hexagonal lenses. Like a dragonfly. In fact, exactly like a dragonfly.

But bigger—like something the air force would build if it wanted a dragonfly to use in air-to-air combat.

They reached the closest tower and stopped inside, panting.

“I can’t believe Xiao bailed on us!” Jarrah yelled.

“I would if I could,” Mack said. He had a stitch in his side from running. He held it and doubled over.