Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(63)

But the power had no effect. If anything, it sank into Marcus like water onto sand . . . and the monster laughed.

My hand mindlessly shot into my pocket for the ivory fist. . . .

Shit. It was part of the clappers now, and they were on the floor. Next to the dying Old Man.

Thunder ripped through the room as Joseph’s electricity blasted from his fingertips as Daniel’s pistols fired.

Marcus stumbled this time—even toppled back several steps. But it wasn’t enough. He had spotted the clappers, and he was moving toward them faster than Joseph or Oliver could mount another attack. Faster than Daniel could reload.

And faster than I could dive for the ivory.

I lurched at the Old Man anyway, clawing for the clappers. But as more electricity and magic blazed overhead, I lost sight of them. Lost sight of anything. My hands slapped through the Old Man’s blood, through his robes . . .

But no clappers. No clappers. Where were they?

I could use them to lead the imperial guards. I could finally take down Marcus. Crush him from the body that was not his and watch as his soul burned—

Joseph’s electricity snapped off—Oliver’s magic too—and all that was left was Marcus’s purring laughter. It rolled into my ears, and I knew with a sickening hitch in my gut that somehow he had found the clappers first.

Run! the jackal roared.

I shoved off the floor. Another gunshot exploded—blasting into the stone chest. I dived behind a mummy and yanked out my pulse pistol just as Daniel fired his.

But then a muffled voice screeched, “Joseph!” It was Jie, distant yet approaching. “Joseph!”

Marcus’s head jerked toward the archway—just as Oliver’s magic flashed.

But as before, the demon magic had no effect. When the blue light faded, I saw Marcus striding easily from the chamber, the ivory clappers held high. “Kill them!” he bellowed over his shoulder. “Now.”

“Stop!” Joseph hurtled from behind a mummy, his crystal clamp flying upward. . . .

A spear swung out, and the handle smacked his stomach like a baseball bat. It was one of the guards—and it was moving. Joseph flew backward, barely darting aside before a second mummy slashed out.

That was when I noticed that the mummy before me was rearing back for an attack.

“Stop the guards!” I shrieked at Oliver, scrabbling backward. “Sum veritas!”

Oliver’s magic crashed over me, spiking the mummy and its spear backward. But almost immediately, the guard clambered upright and lunged at me once more.

I fired my pistol—Daniel fired his. All the mummies in the room froze . . . only to reanimate half a breath later. Just as fast and just as deadly. Left and right, they slashed at us with spears. Their attacks were jagged and stiff, but too quick for us to hold off.

Yet the pistol’s pulse had given me enough time to yank out my crystal clamp, and as I clenched it tight, a hot, angry power rippled through me.

I let it loose. The nearest mummy toppled backward, its spear snapping in half, and before it could rise again I rounded on the next guards.

Yet they were everywhere. Oliver, Joseph, Daniel, and I—we twisted and blasted, kicked and ducked, but our magic and our weapons were ineffective.

We really had only one choice—exactly as the jackal had said: Run.

A pistol popped through the room, and then Jie’s voice ripped out, “Come on! I’ll clear a path!”

Yet as we bolted toward the archway, the jackal spoke once more—and this time his message was different. Wait.

I didn’t wait. Except the message came again, reverberating with command. WAIT.

So I staggered around. The jackal’s scruffy body was bent over the Old Man . . . and the Old Man’s eyes were open.

Come.

I wanted to scream at the jackal—No!—but I knew I had to obey.

So, with a running leap, I slammed onto my knees and slid through puddles of blood across the floor.

I bent over the Old Man. His throat was healing—but not quickly enough. Each of his ragged breaths sent too much blood spurting out. His hands bloodied but his eyes sharp, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me close. “Stop the Pullet,” he rasped. “Stop that man who wants to raise it. You can get help on the dock. By blood . . . and moonlit sun. Get help and stop him.”

Then the Old Man released me. The jackal vanished.

I clambered back to my feet, my fingers already gripping the crystal clamp. Half the mummies charged straight for me.

Briefly, Oliver’s panic twisted through me. He knew I wasn’t with everyone else. He was coming back for me.

No, I ordered. I am coming.

Then I let the electricity collect inside me. The guards were moving in fast—ancient spears and skeletal, sinewy bodies. One breath, two. The electricity scorched through my veins, boiled in my skull. Too much of it—too much . . .

I flung up my hands and let the magic loose. Like a thousand bees stabbing me, like a thousand voices shredding my throat, it erupted from my body. So much electricity—it erupted from my fingertips and my eyeballs. From my tongue and my chest. It was everywhere, and for a long, endless moment, I thought I had gone too far. Drawn in more power than my body could handle . . .

Then it broke off, and my scorched vision saw the faintest line of escape. A path through the mummies. I shambled forward, and the haze cleared with each step. I tripped over two spears—spears that were already drawing in and mummies that were already returning to life.