Endless Knight(96)

As Lark and I set off across the bunker, wolves in tow, I soaked up the light, feeling my brain starting to fire again. I plucked shards from my own skin, my regeneration accelerating.

We passed rows of plants, like orderly battalions. There were potted vines and even saplings. They wouldn’t be as strong as giant oaks or as stealthy as my weapon of choice: roses. Still, this was a decent army—if I could reclaim my powers.

Ogen would find us down here eventually; I only hoped I could lay a trap before then. “Lark, I need a really sharp knife.” Or, depending on time . . . “Maybe an ax?” It’ll grow back.

“Gee, forgot both of mine in the rush.” She peered around the garden. “I can get you a spade. Or a trowel.”


I gazed down at her claws, dreading what I knew must happen. “You’ve cut through skin before, right? With your claws?”


“Oh, hell, no. Don’t even think about this, Evie.”


“Believe me, I’m open to alternatives.”


“Boss is supposed to be back today. Maybe he’ll get here in time?”


“Willing to bet your life on that?” I snatched her hand. “You help me get this cuff off, or we die.”


She gazed at me as if awed. “You are stone-cold, aren’t you?”


“No. Not at all. But I’ll still get you to cut on me.”


By the time we’d reached a back corner, I’d gotten her to give in.

“Fine!” She flared her claws. “Tell me what you want.”


I explained how she needed to slice the skin above and below the cuff, along the edges, like she was tracing around a Solo cup. The barbs were in too deep for the metal piece to be slipped down my arm, so I figured we’d just work that circle of skin down too. Easy, peasy. Oh, and we’d do this while excising my bicep. So a couple more slices on each side of the muscle, please.

I yanked off my sweater, twisting the sleeve for something to bite down on, because I’d seen that before in a movie.

When I stuffed the material between my teeth, she raised her scalpel-sharp foreclaw. “This is so messed up.” With her pupils the size of saucers, she began to cut around the cuff.

The pain made my eyes water, but I nodded for her to keep going.

Once she’d made all the cuts to my skin, blood was streaming, making everything slippery. I was growing so delirious that I thought I saw a flicker of enjoyment in her eyes. Red of tooth and claw.

But when I looked closer at her face, all I saw was queasy paleness.

I drew the material from my mouth. “You have t-to hurry,” I choked out. “With this much green and light . . . I’ll heal right up. When I pull the cuff higher, you slip beneath and”—my voice quavered—“yank on the muscle. Quick.” Back in went the sweater sleeve.

With an unsteady nod, she used her claws to get a good pincer hold of the slick muscle, then began her gruesome task.

Through gushing tears, I stared up at the ceiling, feeling pressure, pain, pressure, pain! I shrieked against my sweater. As if he’d heard even that muted sound, Ogen bellowed from somewhere above, bounding through the manor.

“We’re done with that part.” Why was she swaying so much? Or was that me? Delirious. Stay conscious, stay conscious. She started pulling down on the cuff.

Oh, God, the barbs! I vomited in my mouth, choking it back. My legs tottered as I tried to give her a counterforce.

Almost to my elbow, almost . . .

The metal came free in a rush of blood, hitting the floor with a bounce. Done! Shuddering, I spat out my sweater, then rested my good arm on a plant shelf. As I leaned over, I narrowed my eyes at the grisly sight of the cuff. The barbs looked like roots growing into my former skin.

Lark tore the hem of her jersey, using the material to tie a bandage around my mutilated, limp arm.

Good. Didn’t want to see it.

“I can’t believe we did that! Now don’t mummify me in vine, ’kay?”


Freed, I commanded everything to grow. Despite my injuries, I was brimming with power.

Conserve? I had for months.

My army obeyed so quickly, I could hear their skittering spurts. As stalks, stems, and leaves sprang to life, Lark’s eyes darted. “This is so disturbing.”


“So were your cobras.”


“What’s the game plan?” she asked.

“We’ll have to behead Ogen, right?” At her nod, I said, “To reach us back here, he’ll have to fight his way through a jungle, getting weaker and weaker. I’ll hold him in place while your wolves tear at his softer belly. After we force him to the ground, we’ll use their fangs to sever his neck.”


“Okay. They know the program.”


Somewhere above us, he roared, “I smell pretty MEAT.”


“He’s coming, Lark. Use my blood. Get it on any leaves you can. It’ll make them even stronger. I’ll create a last barrier to defend us.”


She dropped down to flatten her palms in the puddle at my feet. Patty-cake. Delirious.

“Our blood is mixing like crazy.” She rose to flick her coated fingers. Crimson on green. “Like we’re blood sisters. Think that’ll give me an extra life in this battle?”