Pack of Strays (The Fangborn Series Book 2) (33 page)

I summoned up all Vee’s donated energy and, back in the lab, found Pandora’s Box. I concentrated on finding the infinite space that I’d seen at Ephesus, when anything seemed possible, and many things had been.

I was doing it.

I was—

Black, falling as if without a parachute. Just like my first encounters with Quarrel.

“Is that you, Quarrel?”

“I hear you, Zoe, now Hellbender! What an interesting direction you’ve taken! I didn’t know you could do that!”

“Do what? What do you mean? What’s going on?”

An instant later, I felt a searing heat. I had no flesh to burn away, but I screamed all the same.

“Quarrel, what’s happening?”

His voice, from a distance. “The Makers inspect you,
Hellbender
.”

“Makers? Inspect me for what?”

“Your … I do not know the word—”

I thought of the war waiting for me. “Quarrel, if they tell me what they are looking for, perhaps I can help!”

“They say you will know when it is time.”

My friends, my Family, were being slaughtered in the meantime. “You know, fuck that. I’ve had it,” I shouted at whoever would hear it. “Enough with the riddles, the tests! Why don’t you just tell me what you want! I am still Zoe Miller under all this armor and you’re not going to get what you want unless you first tell me and then give me a damn good reason!”

“Hellbender, I would not—”

The dragon’s voice was full of trepidation.

Maybe I’d gone too far. What scares a dragon?

The searing sensation ceased. A roaring in my ears, as my body started to make itself known.

My head hit the ground, and then the rest of me. It hurt like hell, but I could still move. Good. I’d start by removing Buell and killing him. With any luck—

He was still there, lying beside me, arms wrapped around my leg. He groaned and fell away, clutching his head.

I looked down, but the knife was gone. My leg was bleeding still, but slowing somewhat.

I tried to push it along, but got nothing. No extra healing, nothing of my newly-gained powers.

Traffic, people, rushing out in the street.

Alarm—had someone carried me out? What had gone on? Why was Buell still here, apparently still alive?

Where was I? Had the explosion from Porter’s last trap thrown us from the building?

I looked up. My vision was still blurry, but I was reassured. No matter what had happened, I was okay. I saw the arch of
Boston’s
Chinatown and knew I wasn’t more than a mile or so from the wharf. I could still get back, still help the Fangborn army—

The traffic was going the wrong way. The street was way too wide. I squinted, wishing my head would clear.

Wondering why it wouldn’t clear … I tried to heal myself again, but felt nothing but “ordinary” Fangborn healing.

After a moment, I could focus. The arch wasn’t what I remembered. It was a modern sculpture of wood twisted to look like a tree or a giant standing drum, supporting a wavy, wafflelike cross member.

It was inside a vast glass atrium of a train station. Complex, modern.

Nothing I’d ever seen in Boston.

The characters weren’t all Chinese, either. They seemed to be a mix of several scripts. Some English, too.

The English spelled out “Kanazawa.”

It sounded Japanese. We were in Japan?

“Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, my head—”

I hauled myself up, shoved the mumbling, moaning Buell away from me. He whimpered, tried to get up and couldn’t. I watched him; maybe I was in another space in my mind?

I hurt like I couldn’t imagine. I’d never seen any place like this, so it couldn’t be in my mind—could it? Not even as an ideal? “Sean! Sean?”

Nothing. It was a place in the real world I’d never seen before, no comfortable construct.

Buell raised his head, shook it, hauled himself up to all fours.

I stood up, wobbly, ready to kick him to death if necessary.

He looked up and shoved himself backward. Clung to the opposite wall. Taking it all in. “Where … where are we?”

I had no idea what was happening—had happened?—in Boston. I didn’t know whether the Fangborn had been successful against the Order and the Fellborn. I didn’t know who of my friends was alive or dead, or if Quarrel had disobeyed my order and started going after the rest of the city. The rest of the East Coast.

I sank down to my knees. The bracelet was on still on my wrist, but when I reached in back of my neck, I found nothing but smooth, clear flesh. Same on my right arm. Nothing remained of the artifacts’ jewels or, presumably, the power they gave me. Oh, dear sweet—

Somehow, I was on the other side of the world. No powers and no idea how to get back.

Noise from the other side of the alley. Buell’s eyes were wide, terrified. “What have you done to us, you fucking witch?”

END

Acknowledgments

Thank you, thank you, thank you always to my husband, Ja
mes Goodw
in. I’m so lucky to have Mr. G. as my best friend. He’s
also my alpha reader and reminded me that “the dragon that shows
up in the first act has to go off in the third.” Charlaine
Harris
and Toni Kelner (a.k.a. Leigh Perry) are my friends and beta
readers
. They help keep me focused on what’s important, in life and in
writing
, and that’s why this book is dedicated to them.

Many thanks to my literary agent (and reader and
cheerleader
), Josh Getzler. I’m grateful to the excellent HSG Agency: Carrie Hannigan, Jesseca Salky, and Danielle Burby. They combine professionalism with intelligence and good humor.

I’m so lucky to be working with the talented folks at
47North, especially David Pomerico (Acquisitions
Editor
), Ju
stin Golenbock
(PR Specialist), Katy Ball (Marketing
Manager
), and Britt Rogers (Author Relations Manager). I am energized every time Developmental Editor Clarence A. Haynes and I discuss Zoe and the Fangborn, and I was fortunate to have Jill
Pellarin
tackling the copyediting. I’m thrilled with the way that artist Chris
McGrath
has envisioned Zoe on the Fangborn novels. My thanks to you all!

Although this is a piece of fiction, with some made-up settings, I do try to be as accurate as the story will let me be when describing a real place. S. J. Rozan and Clarence Haynes helped Zoe and me navigate NYC. I took elements from several churches in
Istanbul
to create the one Zoe visits.

Joe Basile (Associate Dean of Liberal Arts and Professor of Art History, Theory and Criticism, Maryland Institute College of Art) has been very helpful in my explorations of the Fangborn past.

I covered a lot of ground this year, promoting
Seven Kinds of Hell
, and part of that reason was to say thanks to the
booksellers
and librarians who have encouraged me over the years. Another reason was that it gave me to the chance to see friends in the mystery, science fiction/fantasy, and Sherlockian communities in person, notably the Teabuds, MysteryBabes, BuffyBuds,
Mystery
Writers of America, and Sisters in Crime. Special thanks are due to my promotion group, the Femmes Fatales. They are Donna
Andrews
, Charlaine Harris, Dean James, Toni Kelner, Kris Neri, Hank
Phillippi
Ryan, Mary Saums, Marcia Talley, and El
aine Viet
s.

And finally, to the readers who took the time to drop me a line or say hello at a convention: Awooo!

About the Author

Dana Cameron was short-listed for the Edgar Award and earned multiple Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity Awards for her work, including several Fangborn short stories. Her first Fangborn novel, Seven Kinds of Hell, was published by 47North in 2013. Trained as an archaeologist, Dana holds a bachelor of arts from Boston University and a doctorate from the University of Pennsylvania; she lives in eastern
Massachusetts
with her husband and two cats. When she’s not writing fiction, Dana continues to explore the past (and the present) through reading, travel, museums, popular culture, and food. More news about Dana and her writing can be found on her author website and blog at
www.danacameron.com
.