Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (38 page)

Over at the Donners’ house, Terry began fitting Meaghan with protective gear.

“Fire protection starts from the skin up. Natural fibers only. What are your long johns made of?”

“No idea,” Meaghan said. “Check the tag in the collar.”

Terry stuck his hand down the back of Meaghan’s sweater and searched for the tag. “How many layers are you wearing?”

“I’m from Arizona remember? I get cold when it drops below seventy-five.”

Terry squinted. “Microfiber. No good. All the synthetic stuff has to go.”

“Why?”

“It burns and melts. Let me get you some of Steph’s clothes.”

He even wanted her to change her bra. “It’s microfiber and nylon. Do you really want your girls to get burnt?”

“No, but Steph’s bigger than I am,” Meaghan said.

“Then go without.”

Meaghan sighed. “The panties are microfiber, too.”

“Then they gotta go. You really don’t want to burn yourself down there. Trust me. Commando is better than melted undies.” He handed Meaghan a pile of clothing. “Here.”

“I have clothes at home, you know.”

“This is faster. Get dressed and meet me downstairs. I need to grab more stuff from the workshop.”

Meaghan changed into Steph’s clothes as quickly as she could. The room was so cold she could see her breath. She sent Steph a mental apology when she stripped off her underpants and stepped into the silk long johns.
If I live through this, Steph, I’ll buy you new ones.

Meaghan found Terry waiting in the kitchen with an assortment of gear.

“Is that tin foil?” Meaghan asked, poking at silvery pile.

“Aluminized rayon,” Terry said. “Kevlar is better, but this is the best I got. It’ll protect against sparks and reflect back some of the heat.”

Meaghan held a pair of silver chaps against Steph’s wool ski pants. “You wear this stuff?”

“Yeah, when I’m working.”

“In the movies and on TV the blacksmiths are always bare-chested.”

Terry snorted in disgust. “You ever burn your nipple? Singe off your chest hair?”

“No.”

“Don’t. It sucks. Every time I see a shirtless smith, I want to throw something at the TV. Only an idiot plays around with red-hot metal with no shirt on.” He helped her into the chaps. “Even the most swaggering, macho types wear leather aprons.”

“Is this stuff better?”

Terry shrugged. “Both will protect you fine. I like this stuff because it’s lighter and easier to move around in and it deflects heat so it keeps me a little cooler. But if I’m doing a demonstration at a renaissance fair or something, I’ll wear leather. I tried the aluminum once and everybody threw a fit. It’s not traditional, they said. Neither is using steel you didn’t smelt yourself, I told them, and they said I didn’t know what I was talking about.” He stepped back. “Me. I only invented half the shit they do. How do those feel?”

“I feel like a baked potato,” Meaghan said.

“No, you feel like an unbaked potato. That’s the point.”

Meaghan nodded.
Don’t panic. It won’t help. Don’t panic.
“They’re too long.”

“The gaiters will take care of that. Hang on.” He slipped the gaiters around her boots and zipped them up. “Now the apron. I grabbed the short one.”

It almost reached her knees.

“Short on me, I guess,” Terry said, eyeing his handiwork. “Sorry. I know all this stuff is too big on you.” He held up a hunk of brown leather. “This should fit better. It’s Steph’s welding cape.”

“Steph welds? What the hell is this thing? It’s only sleeves.”

“It’s for arm protection,” he said, helping her into it. “I have a full jacket but it would be huge on you.” He stepped back to look, then nodded. “Yeah, Steph helps me sometimes.” He pulled something else from the table.”When we’re getting ready for a show or festival.”

When Meaghan saw the gray helmet in his hands, the panic—fueled by claustrophobia—came roaring to the front and she couldn’t push it down this time. She took several steps back, trying to control her breathing, her heart pounding. “No. I can’t wear that.”

“It’ll protect you if the dragon flames,” Terry said, trying to move closer to her. “And the back is mostly open. It only covers the front and top of your head.”

“You put that thing on my head, and I’ll punch you in the nuts,” Meaghan said in a shrill voice. “No. Can’t do it.”

Terry set the helmet back on the kitchen table and held up his hands in surrender. “The claustrophobia. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

Meaghan turned away and leaned against the sink, trying to catch her breath. “Hypnosis,” she managed to say. “Hypnosis helped last time. Owen hypnotized me.”

“Okay, we can go see him,” Terry said. “Or not. If you feel better without the helmet, that’s fine.”

She took a few more deep breaths, then turned to face him. “Sorry. I’m a weenie, I know.”

“No, you’re not,” Terry said. “We all have our phobias. You’ve never seen me around needles. Or snakes.” He shuddered. “I really hate snakes. When John told me about the giant snakes in Fahraya, I about had a stroke. Still gives me nightmares.”

“Yeah, I didn’t like them either. But I’d rather face a pack of them than put my head in that thing. I can’t stand having stuff cover my face.”

“Like I said. Everybody’s got something,” Terry said. “How about goggles? Can you can handle them?”

Meaghan nodded. “As long as my nose isn’t covered.”

“One more thing,” Terry said. “I know you aren’t fond of them, but it’s an easily wieldable chunk of steel.”

“Not a sword,” Meaghan said.

He pulled it out of the pantry. “I knew I’d have to build up to this one.” He held out the Ulfberht sword the monks had brought back from the archive, hilt first. “Please. It’s the best thing I’ve ever made.”

“I can’t handle a sword. I probably can’t even lift the thing, let alone use it.”

“Sure you can. Give it a try.”

Meaghan sighed. “If it shuts everybody up.”

She grasped the sword. It was surprisingly light and well balanced in her hand. She gave it an awkward swing and hit one of the chairs. The blade dug half an inch into the wood. “Oh, shit.” She yanked the sword out. “Sorry.”

Terry beamed with pride. “What did I tell you? Nice, right? Imagine if you’d followed through on the swing.”

She stared at the sword with grudging respect. “It’s really easy to handle. I thought it would be heavier.”

“If you jab it in the roof of the dragon’s mouth, it might be enough to mess with the igniter magic.”

Meaghan glared at Terry. “Like I could get close enough to do that.”

“You never know. It’s one more tool. Better to have it and not use it than the other way around.”

“Fine,” Meaghan said. “Whatever. What are you gonna wear for protection?”

“I’m not supposed to get close to this thing, right? It’ll mess with me somehow?”

Meaghan nodded.

“Not having protective gear forces me to keep my distance,” Terry said. “Come on. Let’s go make sure you know how to drive this snowplow. You got the keys?”

I’ll get them from Brian
, Marnie’s voice said in Meaghan’s head.

“Okay,” Meaghan said out loud.

Terry gave her a worried look. “Keys?”

I’ll meet you outside.

“Come on,” Meaghan said. “Marnie has them.”

They trudged across the street. The sky had lightened to a dark grayish blue and everything looked crisper and more detailed. “Almost dawn,” Terry said.

“You think they’ll wait?” Meaghan said. “Or try to surprise us?”

“Luka will try to buy as much time as he can,” Terry said. He took a deep breath. “If he can. If they kill him—”

“They won’t kill him if they can still use him,” Meaghan said.

I hope
, she thought.

Marnie was waiting by the truck with the lantern. When she saw Meaghan, she stifled a laugh. “You’re so shiny.”

Meaghan smiled at her. “My armor.” She held up the Ulfberht. “Even got a sword. See?’

“Very nice,” Marnie said, holding out a key ring in her mittened hand. “The reins of your horse, milady.”

Meaghan grabbed the keys. “Remember. Keep them as far away as you can. If you need to evacuate, do it. If John doesn’t have my car keys, the extra is in the candy dish on my dresser. Or head down the alley or into the field.”

Terry grabbed her arm. “Not the field. Bad idea. That’s where they want us to go.”

Meaghan looked up at him. “How do you know?”

Marnie stared, eyes wide, over Meaghan’s shoulder. She raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the other end of Holly Lane, where it intersected with Sycamore. Her voice a breathy squeak, Marnie said, “That’s how.”

Meaghan heard growling so low it was more a vibration than a sound.

Don’t panic.

She turned to look behind her.

Something huge squatted at the mouth of Holly Lane.

The dragon had arrived.

Chapter Forty-Seven

T
HE THREE OF
them stared at the dragon, unable to move.

Then Meaghan saw two figures, a few feet ahead of it, struggling through the snow.

“That’s Sam and Luka,” Terry said.

The dragon swished its tail and took a deep breath.

Marnie screamed and ran for the house.

“Terry, lightning, now!” Meaghan dove into the cab of the truck.

She stared at the controls, her mind trying to shut down.

“Automatic, dummy,” she said out loud. She slotted the key into the ignition and the truck roared to life, followed by a blinding flash of light and a deafening crack.

She could see a panel with R, N, and D, but no lever. “Shit, shit, shit. Think.”

Push button,
Marnie told her
.

Meaghan nodded and hit D, then remembered the truck was parked in the wrong direction.

I have to do a K-turn in a snowplow with a dragon on my ass?
Meaghan stared at the transmission buttons. “Fuck that,” she said, and hit reverse.

Using the side mirrors, she backed, at the highest speed she could manage in the deep snow, toward the dragon, praying she didn’t hit Sam and Luka.

There was another crack of thunder.

The dragon flamed.

The cab lit up with rosy orange light. Meaghan squealed in fear but kept going. She felt a crunch and then a wave of heat, followed by a deafening roar, which quickly faded. It was like listening to a jet plane fly into the distance.

The passenger side door opened.

The sword was on the seat where Meaghan had dropped it. She grabbed it and poked it toward the door.

“Meaghan, let us in.” Sam’s small gray face appeared. “Help me. He’s hurt.”

Meaghan reached out a hand, and she pulled while Sam pushed Luka into the cab.

Luka’s cashmere sweater was gone, replaced with a bloodstained T-shirt. His feet were bare, and bright red from the cold. Raw red scrapes circled his wrists.

When Meaghan got a good look at his face, she gasped. His eyes were swollen shut, the lids blistered and raw, and blood ran down each cheek, like tears.

“What did they do to you?” she gasped. “My God, Luka—”

“It’s in the myth,” he said in a raspy voice. “Venom in my eyes. We need to get out of here. It’ll be back.”

“It is circling above,” Sam said. “It stunned him and he stopped, and we would be dead if you had not come.”

“Get me to Steph,” Luka whispered. “Steph. I need Steph.”

She glanced in the side mirror. The giant blue spruce in the Franzettis’ front yard was on fire, but the house looked okay.

Luka’s new truck hadn’t fared so well. It hadn’t been burnt. Instead, it looked like it had been stepped on. Or possibly sat upon. The cab was crushed and the rear of the truck jutted upward at an impossible angle.

Meaghan put the plow into drive and drove back down the street to her house.

We need help,
she told Marnie and then, without words, sent Marnie an image of Luka’s ravaged face.
Get Steph. Dragon’s in the air. Can you shield us?

On it,
Marnie answered.

The gray light brightened and glowed golden.
Is that you?

No. Sunrise.

Meaghan felt the truck rock on its axles as snow blew across the windshield.

There was a whoosh, like a giant furnace kicking on, and the empty MacDougall house burst into flames.

I can guard your house,
Marnie said,
but I think that’s all I can do.

Do it. Keep them safe.

Steph rushed from the house, Brian right behind her. Steph cried out in shock when she saw Luka, but Brian exhibited the steely calm Meaghan had seen on Labor Day. He pulled open the door, asked Luka a few questions, and gently probed his neck. Satisfied, Brian pulled Luka out of the truck and slung him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Steph on his heels, Brian trotted into the house.

“I will stay with you,” Sam said. “You cannot do this alone.”

Meaghan didn’t argue. He was right. “Terry will try to hit it with lightning, while we try to get some steel in its mouth. If we can pin it with the truck, or injure it and get the plow blade in its mouth, it should block the magical ignition long enough for fumes to build up and then Terry can detonate it.”