Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(85)

The Pullet’s scaly tail flicked past, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Awake, awake, awake, I thought. Return to your bodies. Wake up and fight—awake!

A pulsing light appeared behind my eyelids, and my soul slid through my veins—climbing, reaching for my heart.

Wake up! Awake!

The light shone brighter, and my magic continued to trickle inward. I had never felt power like this, so warm and . . . yet almost dampened.

And still the light burned brighter until it scorched red behind my lids.

Then a soft huff sounded, and my heart turned to stone.

This light wasn’t magic.

I snapped my eyes wide—just in time to see the Pullet’s fangs lurch at me. A scream cycloned over me, raising my hair and coating me in static and moisture.

I fell back, stumbling over the ibis mummy . . . and hitting a wall. Another scream and another snap of teeth. It filled every space of my sight, of my hearing, of my heart.

But the Pullet’s head didn’t quite fit into the alcove.

I ducked down, my hand landing right on the bound mummy’s chest . . . and then my fingers poked through the canvas wrappings.

The ibis moved. It wriggled—it was awake—but it was bound too tightly to move. These wrappings had not decomposed like the dogs’. My fingers curled into claws, and I shredded the fabric. . . .

The Pullet reared back for another attack, and my sword gleamed in its throat.

I dived forward, and in a single move I grasped the hilt and kicked off the monster’s chest. I tumbled back into the alcove, and hot blood sprayed over me. Then, with a slash, I cut the ibis free.

It burst from the bindings, bone wings and desiccated flesh spreading wide.

“Attack,” I roared, but I didn’t need to. The mummy knew what to do. Its long beak snapped right for the hole left by my sword, and stabbed.

The Pullet screamed, staggering backward.

I lurched across the tunnel, swinging beneath golden wings before I ducked into the other alcove. This bird wrestled its bindings too; I arced my sword out . . . and sliced away more cloth.

And just like the other ibis, it careened straight for the Black Pullet. Light swept every which way, blinking and swinging as the Pullet struggled to fight the birds. But they swooped and stabbed, effective and vicious.

As I gaped, trying to find the perfect moment to run, more ibises wriggled from their alcoves. They wrestled free from their bindings, and in moments there were ten ibis. Then fifty. Then hundreds.

So I moved. Raising my sword high, I bolted into the tunnel and aimed back toward the entrance. The darkness crowded in, shaking with the Pullet’s keening wails, but I didn’t slow. I trusted my feet to get me back to the broken temple.

And soon moonlight shimmered over bricks and fallen stone. The Pullet’s cries were far behind, almost drowned out by the flapping of bone wings.

I reached the rubble, shoved my sword behind my belt, and climbed. Using broken stones and crumbled roof, I leaped and grabbed and hauled myself ever higher. The moon was so bright and so brilliant.

Then I was back to what remained of the temple’s roof and jumping into the dunes. A distant pop-pop-pop hit my ears as I launched into a run.

The copper lines around the obelisk must still be working . . . but where was the thunder from Joseph’s electricity? Why was no blue light blazing in the distance?

Terror welled in my throat, and I hurtled over the sand. The shattered skeletons of my army crunched beneath me, and as I sprinted, I severed all my necromantic leashes to these dogs.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

The magic kept me going. A leash cut for each footfall and a burst of strength through my body.

The noises of battle grew louder. Clashing weapons and indistinguishable shouts.

I reached the pyramid and slowed to a gasping stop. Rounding the stones would bring me to the imperial guards, but going up would at least let me see the battle before I entered.

So I dug my heels into the first step and tucked in my head, and I charged up the pyramid. Each step brought more sounds into focus.

Boom! A pulse bomb detonated.

Which meant the mummies were to the final line.

I moved even faster. I pushed everything I was into my legs. My strength, my magic, my life—I had to get to the Spirit-Hunters. To my friends—my family.

I crested the pyramid. The battle crashed over me.

And the truth did too.

We were losing. Three of the copper lines had been dug up and smashed apart. The mummies scurried over . . . and toward the final line.

Beside the obelisk, Joseph was doubled over. The crystal clamp shone in his hand, but he wasn’t able to squeeze. Daniel and Jie flanked him, pistols and fists at the ready. . . .

And beneath his balloon, waiting like a cat beside a mouse hole, was Marcus.

I jumped. In a leap that carried me two levels down, I rocketed through the air and drew the world’s magic to me. My feet slammed down; my knees crunched. Onward I moved, gathering in the magic of the stones, of the night, of the sand. I called it to me just as I had two days ago, and I damned the consequences. I just inhaled . . . and ran.

But then light exploded, sand flew, and thunder crashed over me. Mummies flew back—only to be instantly replaced.

The final copper line was finished.

And a single mummy darted through, spear out and aiming for Joseph’s back.

“No!” The scream ripped up my throat. “No!” I lashed out with my magic, aiming for the mummy, trying to sway its spear. . . .