Heart of a Dragon (36 page)

It hadn't been a long ride, but Salvatore was unused to the precise balance and the whipping of the wind against his unprotected face.
 
Snake had ridden without a helmet, his long hair flowing out behind him and tickling Salvatore's face.
 
They had never gotten over twenty miles an hour, but it had reminded Salvatore of that other place, of flying in the grip of the great red dragon.
 
When he closed his eyes, he could see the city below, and the glowing, colored towers.

Now the others pulled in behind them.
 
They peeled off to either side, flowing out and parking like rows of dominoes, each bike tipping onto its kickstand a moment before the next in line.
 
They followed Snake's lead and sat very still.
 
Salvatore scanned the park, but nothing in that darkness moved.
 
He allowed himself to hope, just for a moment, that no one else would come.
 
There was no way to know for certain that
Los Escorpiones
would meet this challenge, though they certainly must know by now that the Dragons were on the move.
 
Word in the Barrio traveled like smoke, or the wind.
 
Nothing happened that did not eventually make its way to the most distant of ears.

When the last of the Dragons had cut his engine, and they sat in a long, glittering line, the chrome of their engines catching and recasting moonlight, their faces shadowed silhouettes.
 
The night went so deathly silent that Salvatore thought they must all be able to hear the pounding of his heart.
 
It wasn't so much the fear of
Los Escorpiones
as the fact he could not see them.
 
He could not hear them.
 
He felt them like prickles of ice walking on spider feet over his skin.
 
He sensed them in the hairs at the nape of his neck.
 
He tasted the fear of those surrounding him, and an answering…something…in the darkness.

Snake slid off the bike and stepped onto the sidewalk.
 
He scanned the park slowly, but there was nothing to see.
 
Salvatore climbed carefully off the bike and stood beside Snake.
 
To the right and left, the others followed suit.
 
They lined the sidewalk, and this time there were so many that the entire edge of the park became a wall of Dragons.
 
They didn't speak, and they didn't move.
 
Every man of them waited for a sign from Snake.

In the park, the shadows shifted and slid.
 
Patches of darkness so black they stood out, even against the darkness of the unlit field spread out before them, moved and then disappeared.
 
There were lights in the distance.
 
At least, to Salvatore they seem to be far in the distance.
 
He knew the park, though, and it wasn't that big.
 
It wasn't that deep.
 
Those lights looked too far away to exist, and they danced in and around the moving shadows like will-o-the-wisps.

At every movement, Salvatore felt a shiver of fear dance up his spine.
 
His hands were cold and clammy where he held the flagpole, and he tightened his grip until it was painful.
 
He had one purpose, one reason to stand where he stood.
 
He had to hold the flag.
 
He had to hold it no matter what happened.
 
He had to hold it, or whatever was out there in the darkness would win, and he would be standing there unprotected.

As they waited, a fog rose.
 
It shimmered up from the grass and licked at the bases of the swings and slides.
 
It floated across the ground from the trees on the far side of the park, sifted through the metal tubes of the monkey bars and jungle gyms. There was no reason for the fog.
 
There was no change in temperature, and
 
when he glanced up, Salvatore saw a clear night sky.

As that mist obscured their view of the park, something laughed.
 
The sound was dark and chilling.
 
The laughter skittered along the sidewalks and shivered through the air.
 
It was joined by an echoing voice, and then another, but Salvatore could not see where the sounds came from.

The Dragons shifted nervously.
 
There were coughs and muttered words.
 
Snake glanced right, and then left along the line.
 
Whatever was happening in the park was getting to them, and they wavered.

Snake reached out quickly and grabbed hold of the flagpole.
 
He didn't yank it from Salvatore's hands, but he shook it, and the motion loosened the ties.
 
With a snap, as if caught in a wind Salvatore couldn't feel, the flag unfurled and flew above them.
 
Snake released the pole and Salvatore stumbled, just for an instant.
 
Then he stood tall.
 
Snake turned toward the park.
 
He slid a heavy dagger from its sheath on his belt.
 
The fog had risen halfway to the lowest branches of the trees now, and nothing but flickering lights was visible in front of them.

With a scream of rage and defiance, Snake lunged forward.
 
Caught up in the moment, Salvatore raised his own small voice, joining it to Snake's as he plunged after.

The Dragons, as though released from some common bond that had held them immobile, followed, slipping in behind in ranks of three or four, forming the long, serpentine shape of a serpent as they followed Snake into battle.

Where Salvatore and the flag moved, the fog dispersed. He saw Snake ahead of him.
 
Shadows flowed in to meet them, and the Dragons surged up and around him.
 
Then the darkness resolved itself into faces.
 
They were men, though their eyes were far too dark, and their expressions held no humanity.
 
Salvatore thought of that dark place, the city of the Dragons, and thought such men as these might slink around the base of the wall and hide in the alleys between buildings.
 
They were fast, so fast they blurred, and Salvatore struggled to avoid the hundred small battles erupting around him.

Snake fought like a man possessed.
 
He lashed out with his blade, and wherever he turned, shadow-figures fell.
 
He seemed taller, and for every bit of the demon speed of
Los Escorpiones
, he was faster.
 
To his right, Jake fought valiantly.
 
The big man glowed with an odd, greenish light that emanated from the dragon on his back.
 
Salvatore wished in that instant that he could have painted the dragons of every one of them, could have armored them for this battle.

He held the flag high, and when he saw a Dragon in trouble, he lunged closer.
 
The presence of the standard rallied them, lent them strength, and drove
Los Escorpiones
back into the shadows. The battle raged around them, wild, surreal, and encased in a wall of heavy mist and fog.
 
They fought on, but the enemy seemed endless, and Salvatore feared they might never stop coming. His hands were slick from sweat, but he clutched the flagpole with all his strength and prayed for more.
 
He had never felt so alive.

By the time Donovan was close enough to see the park, the mist had risen to where it nearly brushed the clouds.
 
Lights flickered deep within that mist, but it obscured any view of what was happening beyond the edge of the sidewalk.
 
The street was lined with the Dragons' bikes; the glittering, polished chromed caught reflected shadows from the park itself, but they had no form.

As they drew closer, muffled sounds of a battle reached them, but it was impossible to make it out as more than the muted clash of metal and the distant echoes of screams.
 
Donovan stopped and turned.

"What's happening?" Amethyst asked.

"I'm not sure," Donovan replied.
 
"It could be
Los Escorpiones
, if they're still possessed.
 
It could be something Martinez and the boy unleashed.
 
We need to get in there."

Amethyst nodded.
 
She reached up and unclasped a silver chain from her hair.
 
When it unwound it was surprisingly long.
 
There were crystal globes at either end, wrapped in coils of silver.
 
She gripped it near the center and began spinning the globes with a deft flick of her wrist.
 
After only a moment the chain was a blur of motion.

Donovan watched in fascination as she strode toward the mist.
 
He followed, and as they made contact with that cloudy wall, it gave way before the whirling crystals.
 
It didn't disperse, but the motion of the chain created a tunnel about twice the height of a man that stretched out slowly, cutting through the misty shroud toward the center of the park.
 
Figures flashed in and out of that tunnel.
 
Donovan saw a big man, one of the Dragons, with his hands locked around the throat of a small, slender Escorpione.
 
Before the two disappeared into the mist, the Dragon lifted his opponent and threw him like a rag doll.

Amethyst glanced over her shoulder at Donovan, her eyebrow raised.
 
The Dragon was a big man, but what they'd just witnessed had been too effortless.
 
A second later the man lunged out of sight with a cry of rage.
 
As he turned, Donovan caught a flash of green, and knew it must be Jake.

Something cracked like a shot from a very large gun.
 
The sound came from overhead, and Donovan glanced up.
 
He didn't want to take his eyes off of Amethyst.
 
While she spun the crystal she was unable to fend off any attack.
 
Something very big and very dark soared overhead.
 
The mist cleared, just for an instant, and Donovan saw vast wings stretching out to either side. He saw the passing of a long, serpentine tail, and before he could open his mouth to shout a warning, or even voice his surprise, a scream cut through the air that shook the ground and shivered through the mist like rippling waves on a pond.

At that moment, there was another cry.
 
It wasn't
 
as loud, but there was an echo of the dragon's scream buried deep in the sound.
 
Donovan spun back to the park in time to see Snake leap into view.
 
The Dragon leader had his head back and his face to the sky.
 
He screamed in answer to the beast and spun, just in time, to catch one of Anya Cabrera's bald servants by the throat.
 
The black man was much larger than Snake, but the Dragon gripped him with one hand and lifted him.
 
A quick shake of that hand, and the big man's head lolled one way, and then the other. There was a horrible snapping sound, and Snake released him, turning again.
 
This time he saw Amethyst and Donovan approaching.

For just a second it seemed he would come at them.
 
Donovan braced himself.
 
His hand went to the hilt of the slender dagger he wore on his hip.
 
Then Salvatore stepped from the fog, the flagpole gripped so tightly in his hands that even from where he stood Donovan saw the boy's knuckles were white with strain.
 
Salvatore's eyes had a glazed, far-away expression, so different from Snake's that Donovan's hand fell away from the handle of his blade in confusion.
 
It was obvious the young artist saw nothing that happened around him.
 
He stood very still, and a white light flickered up and down his arms.
 
It shimmered on his hair and cast a brilliant glow on the ground at his feet.

Over head, the flag flapped and waved.
 
As it moved, the dragon emblazoned across it swooped and dove.
 
There was such a sense of motion and life, that Donovan found his gaze drawn to the sky above them once again.
 
Somehow he knew that the dragons were connected.
 
Salvatore was the key.

Two more
Escorpiones
leaped into sight.
 
One came at Snake from the front, and the other literally climbed his back, clawing at his hair, scrambling to get higher and reach over to the Dragon president's eyes.
 
Snake bellowed and rolled forward, flinging the attacker off his back.
 
Donovan drew his blade and moved in.
 
He had to step to the side to get around Amethyst without disturbing the spin of the crystal globes, and in that instant, everything changed.

There was a screech of rage from off to their left.
 
A small form moving very quickly darted out of the mist.
 
It was a young Hispanic woman.
 
Her skin glowed a sickly yellow, and her hair spun out about her face madly.
 
There was something familiar in the woman's gait, and in her voice.
 
Donovan dove forward to try and intercept her course, but she was like a screeching bolt of lightning.
 
As Donovan closed on her, he heard her chanting, and his heart glazed with ice.