CHAPTER 21
I stepped outside and sighted my pistol on the mounted rifle in the chopper.
I fired. The pistol kicked. Cordite stung my nose. The man behind the helicopter’s gun ducked. I fired again. The bullet sparked off the gun, and the gunman threw himself backward.
I moved left, gun trained on the chopper. Only then did I take a moment to see what else was going on. Events slowed down around me. My right hand burned from the silver gun; crazy gusts of wind from the chopper whipped my hair around like a live thing. The universe narrowed down to now, and nothing else.
In front of the girls’ cabin, a silver wolf tripped a man in gray with a nip and a shove. He sprawled on the ground while another objurer tried to get a bead on London without endangering his friend. A large brown rat scuttled out of the undergrowth.
By the boys’ cabin, an eagle flew at the face of another man. His long wings flapped against the wash from the helicopter’s blades as he clawed at the man’s eyes. A grizzly bear thrashed on the ground near them, encased in silver netting as two men struggled to secure it around him. Near them, Lazar threw another net at Arnaldo. It reached out for him, but he fluttered out of the way.
Siku needed help. I swiveled to run toward him, then froze. A lean form in black lay on the ground not twenty feet away. Morfael. Blood spattered his pale neck and hands. Ximon stood over him, leaning forward, about to take the twisted staff still clutched in one gnarled hand.
Black fury narrowed my eyes and steadied my hands. I aimed the gun at Ximon. “Back off,” I snapped. “Or I’ll shoot.”
Ximon straightened, a condescending smile baring his teeth. “Where are your fangs, Amba?”
Shock shivered through me. He was using the same word that Morfael had when we’d first met.
His voice deepened. “Drop the gun. Show me your claws.” The sound of it pushed at me, and my fingers loosened on the stock of the gun. I wished they were claws so I could tear out his throat.
“No,” I managed to say. My own voice stabbed through the command in his. “I won’t let you trick me.”
He frowned and swept his eyes over me, assessing. “What has Morfael done to you? You’re able to resist me now because the shadow is gone. So this is how he hid you from me all those years.”
“Hid me?” His words made no sense.
“Come with me now and I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said. “I know where your true parents are. I can show you the very essence of your self. And if you like”—he smiled again—“I can take it from you. You can be normal again. I can even take your memories of the otherkin, of these last few weeks. You’ll be just like any other teenage girl. And your family can live forever safe from shifters and the Tribunal.”
I felt the gun waver in my burning hand. “You’re lying,” I said.
“Don’t you understand?” he said. “It’s the easiest way for me to save the world from you.”
Save the world . . .
from me?
“Our Lord only blesses bloodshed as a last resort. Come with me, and you’ll never hear the word otherkin again.” He held out his hand.
There it was. The thing I wanted. Or thought I did. I kept the gun trained on him. “You’ll leave my family alone?”
“I promise. If you come with me now, they will live out their days safe from all this.” He swept his arm out to take in the helicopter buzzing above, Arnaldo and November battling objurers, and Siku thrashing in a silver net. “It will be as if none of this happened.”
It was tempting. So tempting. Everyone here had rejected me, called me a freak. All I had to do was turn my back and soon I’d be home safe with my mother once more.
Siku flailed and uttered a guttural moan. Arnaldo flew over to pluck at the silver strands with his talons, only to be driven back by bullets. Over by the girls’ cabin London dodged a tranquilizer dart and leapt at the man who fired on her. We’d all be dead soon, or taken, no matter what I did. We didn’t stand a chance.
We. That was how I thought of us all, in spite of everything. We.
You must do what you think best.
Morfael had known I’d have to decide. He must have suspected Ximon would take him down. Now it was up to me. Home, safety, and a normal life. Or death or capture with a group of people who didn’t want me sleeping in the same cabin with them.
“No,” I heard myself say.
Ximon’s hand dropped. “Don’t be a fool.”
“You’re a murdering son of a bitch,” I said. “I’d rather die than give you what you want.”
His thick white eyebrows lowered thunderously. “Very well, then.”
I stepped toward him, pointing the gun as my finger tightened on the trigger. “Tell them to free Siku.”
“Stupid girl,” he said, touching his ear. He was wearing a headset almost too small to see. “Objurers, kill them all but the bear.”
“Very well, then,” I said, and fired. The gun kicked in my hand.
But the bullet did not strike him. A spark of light flared around Ximon like a shield. The bullet was gone.
“I told you to try your claws,” he said, walking toward me. A low hum began deep in his throat.
I had to shift. About to drop the gun, I saw a dark-haired figure in a long black coat walk out of the woods behind Ximon. My heart lifted.
“Get away from her, Ximon,” said Caleb. His face was creased with fury and exhaustion, his duffle bag over his shoulder and streaks of mud on his pants. But he’d never looked more wonderful. The jar full of leaves and twigs from the lightning tree was tucked under his arm. His right hand reached inside it.
Ximon turned, one of us now on either side of him. “There you are,” he said. “My son.”
I felt myself get very still, except for the hand holding the gun. It trembled. “Your son?”
Caleb’s eyes shot over to mine, tension between his brows.
“He didn’t tell you?” said Ximon. “Yes, Caleb is my son, half brother to Amaris and Lazar.” He turned back to Caleb. “We have your sister safe. Come with us now and I promise she’ll stay that way.”
Sister
. Amaris was Caleb’s sister. In a flash I saw it all anew. Caleb, throwing his arms around Amaris in a hug in that diner, helping her escape from a father willing to put his own son in a cage, saving her from a life of isolation ruled by fanatics. Between that moment and this, the Tribunal must have taken Amaris back, but somehow Caleb had escaped. A huge weight lifted from me even as Caleb paced closer to Ximon, power vibrating from him as his eyes flared gold.
“There’s only one way she’ll ever be safe,” he said. “If you are dead.” He drew a twig from the jar and held it out. “I call you forth!” he commanded.
The stick struck Ximon’s shoulder.
And fell to the ground, rather anticlimactically. Ximon stepped back from it, his blues eyes widening. He began to intone a note of his own.
Too late. A black beam from Caleb’s hand hit the stick. A blinding slash of light leapt from the ground and stabbed at the sky. I thought my heart stopped. The boom from it silenced the helicopter for a second.
Ximon cried out, illuminated in silhouette. The bolt didn’t strike him directly, but the charge flung him back. I smelled ozone, and every hair on my arms stood up. Then the world went dark again, and Ximon lay in a heap on the ground. Smoke curled up from the ground where he’d stood.
Above, the helicopter bobbed like a cork. It hadn’t been struck, but the pilot ascended sharply in reaction. Now that Ximon was down, I ran to Morfael, fumbling for a pulse under his pointed jaw.
Caleb strode over to Ximon. His white head lift weakly, hands grasping at the soil beneath him. So he was still conscious. Caleb stared down at his father, a grim, lean figure in black holding a jar full of lightning.
“Please, Caleb,” said Ximon, his normally deep voice scratchy and frail. “I do everything only to save you. Because I love you.”
“We have different ideas of love,” said Caleb.
I held my breath as his fingers dropped a stick from the lightning tree back into the jar. Instead, he held out the saltshaker in his left hand and tipped it, sprinkling salt onto his father. “Come forth,” he ordered.
“Wait,” said Ximon. “Please . . .”
But the black smoke from Caleb’s hand had struck the white powder. It exploded into a thousand yellowish strands. They fanned out in a gummy net, encasing Ximon. He writhed, but the filaments held his arms clamped to his sides, his back glued to the ground beneath him.
I didn’t know how to feel. Part of me wanted Ximon dead. But Ximon was Caleb’s father. I could understand why he hadn’t killed him.
Beneath my hand, Morfael’s skin was damp but warm. A heartbeat thudded regularly. Blood was leaking from his side, but slowly. “He’s alive!” I shouted to Caleb. “Get to Siku!”
Caleb hesitated. “Dez,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you . . .”
“You can beg my forgiveness later,” I said. Urgency beat through my bloodstream. “We have to help the others now.” I grabbed his arm, and we ran flat out toward the boys’ cabin.
The objurers, including Lazar, had fired tranquilizing darts into Siku. He lay still inside the silver net as they dragged him into the trees.
The man under Arnaldo’s onslaught screamed and fell into a fetal position on the ground. Arnaldo landed, cawing out to us with piercing urgency and prepared to take flight again.
Lazar was retreating with Siku. I pointed his own silver gun at him. But the bear’s bulk got in the way, giving him and the other objurers cover. I had to lower the gun for fear of hitting Siku. Every second they gained more concealment, moving farther into the forest. Lazar was talking into his headset.
Damn.
Was he ordering reinforcements?
The helicopter descended again, rotating so that its open side allowed the gun to point at us. I fired at the gunman as he reached for the rifle. He winced backward.
“I’ll cover!” I said.
Caleb nodded. “I’m on Siku.”
He ran after Lazar and the men with the net, vanishing into the woods with a swirl of his coat. Arnaldo leapt into the air, wings flapping with terrific force against the crazy wind from the helicopter. A bullet zipped into the ground where he’d been. He wheeled, lost control, and tumbled through the air.
I forced back my fear and anxiety. Giving in to emotion was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I fired again at the man wielding the mounted gun, but he didn’t flinch this time. The gun swiveled toward me. I broke and ran behind the boys’ cabin for cover. Bullets cut into the ground, kicking dirt over my feet as Arnaldo grabbed the roof of the cabin with his powerful talons and righted himself.
I looked up at Arnaldo, his cruel beak and fierce yellow eyes above me. “As long as the copter’s pinning us here, we’ll never get to Siku,” I said. “Take it down.”
Arnaldo nodded once, spread his wings, and took off, this time away from the helicopter. The choppy air from its blades caught him under the wings, and he zoomed out over the trees.
A bolt of lightning leapt into the air off in the direction of the dirt road. A brain-splitting clap of thunder followed. My heart lifted. Caleb was still out there, making life tough for the Tribunal. As soon as I could, I would shift to tiger form and join him.
The helicopter’s gas tank was probably
there
, I decided, eyeing the back end. I aimed and fired. The bullet sparked off the runner. Damn. I was a terrible shot. I had to press harder on the trigger, and the pain in my hands wasn’t helping.
The automatic gun on the copter rattled. Bullets smacked the ground near London, November, and the objurer as they wrestled. Blood spurted from the back of the objurer, and he lay still. So the Tribunal had stopped worrying about its own men.
London scrabbled to her feet and broke free. November scurried away, leaving a trail of blood. She’d been hit.
I fired again at what I hoped was the chopper’s gas tank. The bullets penetrated something, but I couldn’t be sure it was vital.
Then a large winged form spiraled down from the gray sky. Arnaldo, far above, had something huge in his talons. He positioned himself right above the center of the helicopter.
Bullets chased London and November until I lost sight of them. Then Arnaldo dropped the thing in his claws. It tumbled down. A rock, almost a boulder, plummeted toward the chopper’s blades.
“Get cover!” I screamed, hoping London and November could hear me. I dove into the brush behind the boys’ cabin, rolling to see the rock fall directly into the blurry circle that held the copter in the air.
A great crack interrupted the whomping storm of sound. The individual blades were outlined against the sky, warping before my eyes. Shards sliced the air. The eagle shrieked. His wing beat faltered.
Slowly, like a flying ant with broken wings, the helicopter shuddered and fell. I covered my head with my arms.
A crash like a breaking wave shook the ground. A gout of flame bellowed out, licked the boys’ cabin front door, and retreated. Heat washed over me as I got to my feet and stumbled forward, coughing.