Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(79)

Wolfe moved to his left, fast, and the sphinx’s head snapped around to follow him. It was an opening for Jess, if he was well enough to take it . . .

But it wasn’t necessary.

Inexplicably, the sphinx suddenly smiled. It was an awful expression, completely inhuman and horrifying, and then it launched itself straight up into the air, gliding away on golden wings that extended with a snap. Moving too fast for shots to land properly, and dodging away from the mirrors into the shadows far overhead. It would be impossible to hunt the thing.

They needed to get out. Now.

Wolfe rushed to Glain, along with Anit’s physician, Burnham, and Jess, who was already kneeling at her side.

“I’m fine,” Glain said, and batted away attempts to look at her back. “It’s not bad. I’ll get it seen to later. We can’t afford to stay here.” Brave, but he saw the pallor on her face. It was almost certainly worse than scratches. “We need to go! Now!”

It was going to come after them again. That much was absolutely certain.



* * *



—

They were halfway through the Necropolis when Jess said, “It’s coming.”

Glain—who was being helped along by Jess, or perhaps it was the other way around—looked sharply around the silent tombs. Anit’s people had already disappeared through their now invisible passage; they’d taken the Elite prisoners with them. Except for the distant stumbles and roars of the Minotaur, they seemed to be the only ones still alive in the whole vast cave.

“Where?” Wolfe asked without looking up.

“Up and left,” Jess said. Now that he focused, Wolfe could hear the metallic whisper of wings overhead. The sphinx had been silent for a while, but now it was flying high above them in the shadows.

“Get your weapons ready. Jess, you’re in no shape to attempt any tricks; use your gun and stay out of reach. I know where the switch is located. If I can, I’ll get to it. But we’ll need it to land first.”

“I’ll aim to damage the wings,” Jess said. “They’re the most vulnerable at the joints,” Jess said, and took his rifle from his shoulder.

Glain cast a lightning-quick look at Wolfe. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not in fighting shape, but I’ll try.”

“Leave it to me,” he said. He readied himself and then looked up, directly at the sphinx. “Come on, if you’re coming,” he said. “Theo.” He knew the old Archivist was looking at him. Could feel that. And the use of his first name—a name Wolfe hadn’t used in ages—would goad him.

The sphinx glided closer and caught the light in an elegant, terrifying metallic shimmer. It let out its unsettling war cry.

Jess’s shot hit its right wing just at the joint, and though it didn’t come off, it flopped loose and out of control. The sphinx tumbled toward them and managed to land on its lion paws. Snarling.

“Scatter!” Wolfe shouted, and grabbed Jess, who was trying to fire again but had begun to cough uncontrollably. He shoved the young man into a corner between two tombs and stood in front of him. “Glain!”

She knew what to do, and peppered the flank of the thing with rapid gunfire. It turned, snarling, and Wolfe lunged forward for the switch beneath its jaw.

He was too slow.

It caught his arm between its sharply pointed teeth, and its red eyes blazed as if with joy. He had on an armored jacket beneath his shirt—Santi’s insistence—and the teeth did not quite penetrate. The crushing pain was breathtaking. An instant later Jess was there jamming the butt of his rifle between the teeth and levering up to provide some temporary safety. “Hurry!” he shouted. His voice sounded raw and stark. The rifle wouldn’t take the strain long, not from the inhumanly strong clench of those jaws.

Wolfe groped for the switch one-handed. He still couldn’t free his arm, not until Jess’s rifle was out of the way, but the rifle was keeping him from serious damage. It was an awkward stretch, and he felt a sharp twinge in his shoulder that warned him he was neither as athletic nor as limber as he’d once been, but his fingers found the button and pressed it.

Nothing happened.

He pushed again, harder. And again. The sphinx clawed at him with a razor-tipped paw, and he turned to avoid it. The claws caught in his jacket and ripped it from neck to waist. “It’s not working!” he shouted to Jess and Glain. “They’ve disabled the fail-safe!” The jacket’s mail had protected him thus far, but for how long? If those paws caught him on an exposed limb, a major artery . . .

“Can’t use Greek fire,” Glain shouted back. “You’d both be burned!”

“I have an idea,” Jess said. He sounded oddly calm. “It’s risky.”

My arm is in the mouth of a sphinx that’s only a moment from ripping it from the socket. Risky sounds quite safe, Wolfe thought, but he didn’t say it. Too many words. “Tell me!”

“Work your arm free,” Jess said. “Run. Make for the Minotaur. If you can make them fight each other—”

Risky wasn’t the right word for it. Suicidal was far more on point. But Jess was right; it could work. If he was fast enough. If he was lucky. If, if, if. He liked certainty. It was rare enough in life, but completely absent now.

The sphinx shook its head, trying to dislocate his arm; he grabbed hold of its neck with his free arm and rode the motion, though it made him dizzy and sick with the pain. Jess’s rifle slipped, and he jammed it back in. His face had gone taut with effort, his eyes black with concentration. No room for fear here. None at all. The boy was the runner of the three of them, but he couldn’t do it this time. He simply wasn’t capable.