Page 77 of Just Dare Me
Charlotte yells over him. “Tabitha, don’t! It’s not too late for you. Let go of them! I never thought I could do it, but Idid.”
That catches Tabitha’s attention. As if breaking out of a trance, she pierces Charlotte with a strange look. Her eyes widen. “Impossible.”
“It’s not. I promise. You can be free of him. Of all of them. Push them out!”
For a moment, Tabitha’s eyes become haunted by the possibility, but, just as quickly, they fill again with anger. “I can’t.”
“I’ll help you! Just give it to me. Give me the brass knuckles. Don’t do this.”
Tabitha’s face ripples with emotions too complex for me to read. A kind of madness settles in, bringing tears to her eyes even as a giggle bubbles up from her throat.
Madison West says, “You ladies aren’t understanding me.It’s already done.”
I’m still not sure what she means by that until I catch a glimpse of Conrad Paul and the Harringtons backing away, taking cover inside the burning walls of the Agency. That’s when reality hits me like a truck, and I shout at the paramedic, “Get away from him!”
Too late. The paramedic goes flying back from Adrian York’s fist hitting him in the chest. And on that fist, glinting in the sun, are the brass knuckles. Tabitha’s giggle becomes a maniacal fit of laughter.
When Adrian York rises to his full height, it becomes clear that he’s no longer Adrian York. He’s still huge, still seven feet tall and built like a bull, but there’s just enough change in his face to remind me of the new tenant inside this body. Wild eyes gleaming with depravity beneath a heavy brow. Teeth sharpened to points. Arael Moaz is back.
He smiles, flexing his fingers in and out of fists, bending and unbending his knees, testing his new and vastly improved body. A body which, by the way, is on fire. Flames spread up his back, burning away what little remained of his shirt.
Silence settles into the crowd now gathering around us. Police don’t know who to aim their weapons at. Paramedics gape at the towering figure, not just risen from the dead, but looking pristine, wounds healing before their eyes. Firefighters have forgotten about the burning building. Marathon runners stop to gawk.
Panic freezes my heart. I have to remember to breathe. To remind myself that this can’t happen. The underworld has remained invisible since the beginning of life on this planet. It’s basically a law of physics by now. The worldcannotandwill notever know about us. Which means there still has to be a way to fix this. Bigger things have been covered up before. Haven’t they?
After a few gulps, I force my voice to start working again. “Director West, whatever your point is, I’d say you’ve made it. Can we shut this down now? We can still explain this. Somehow. All this smoke is playing tricks on people’s eyes.”
My voice attracts Arael’s attention. He blinks, and his smile stretches wide across those shark teeth. His gravelly voice says, “Oh, you’re just gonnalovethis.”
Shoom!The fire on his back erupts, engulfing his entire body, disintegrating every scrap of clothes. The crowd jumps back from the blaze. Frightful screams ring out. They’re the last sounds I remember from the old world—the world frombefore.
Arael Moaz shifts into mythic form, and I now understand why he thought I, in particular, would “love” it. He transforms into a hairless black hound the size of a dump truck, with glowing red eyes and a mane of red flames running down his spine. A hellhound. Of all things in the underworld, a literal demon dog the size of a T-rex.
My dominance goes haywire, forcing me back several steps. No wonder I always felt so submissive around Adrian York. His mythic form is my worst nightmare. It takes all my strength just to keep myself from curling into the fetal position at the feet of this monstrosity.
Oh, and all these people? Forget about it. A dozen of them faint immediately. No exaggeration. Twelve bystanders—justboom—drop to the ground, out cold. The rest flee in blind panic. Even my team is frozen in shock, staring up at twelve-inch teeth in a head as big as a refrigerator.
Meanwhile, Tabitha Durran is still laughing. With a terrifying roar, the hellhound swings around, diving at her with open jaws, enveloping her head and torso. Her laughter is cut off when those giant teeth smash together, finding no resistance from soft flesh and bones. The hound shakes its head fiercely, whipping Tabitha’s limp legs back and forth.
Too many thoughts and emotions fight for my attention, causing gridlock in my brain. I back away from Director West, expecting the hellhound to come after her next. “So much for loyalty!” I spit at her.
“Tabitha deserves it if she didn’t see that coming. She was the only one with the power to separate his spirit from this new body. Only death can release him now.”
A large displacement bubble forms next to the hound’s face. I know it’s the biggest that Elle can summon—bigger than any other sorcerer here could manage—but next to the massive beast, it seems tiny.
“Don’t!” Madison shouts. “You’ll only provoke him!”
When the bubble explodes, the hellhound rears back, enraged. The flames on its back explode with intensity. It whirls on my team, opening its mouth wide. The firestorm on its back is sucked down into its body, then released in a jet stream from its mouth, straight at my team.
Jay pulls Charlotte and Russo to the ground, and Ilren jumps in front of Nora as Oliver, at the last second, throws his hands up, casting a wall of magic that blocks the fire. But only for a moment. After absorbing the shock of the blast, the magic shield flashes as bright as the sun, then explodes. A shockwave hurtles into my team, launching them backward into the middle of the street, alive but dazed.
“Shayne, get behind me,” Madison West orders.
My instinct is rather to punch her, or shoot her, or at least tell her exactly where to stick her orders, but when the hellhound turns its attention to the two of us, my dominance evaporates. Lowering my head, I scamper behind Madison, cursing my own cowardice.
Even if I could override this forced submission and physically raise my eyes to look over her shoulder, I wouldn’t want to. If fiery hot death is coming, I don’t want to see it. Director West, on the other hand, seems way too calm. Taking a step forward, she says, “You’re wasting time. Are you not Empollyon, Lord of War? The gates of the city are open to you, and within its walls, your throne of blood and the eyes of the world. They await only you.”
I hear—I feel—the heavy footsteps of the beast getting closer, its every loud breath, in and out, sending reverberations of fear through my bones. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for fire to consume us.
