Two months ago, a parking ticket was a bad day. Two months ago, Barb sat in her living room, drinking hot cocoa and making tutting noising at the prime time news anchor on the television. So normal. So everyday. Just like everybody else.
Oh, how your perspective can change when you meet your first alien.
Tears formed in her eyes as she tumbled head over heels toward the ground.
This was it, huh? This was how she died?
Barb forced her eyes to stay open even though the air stung. If this was how she was going out, she’d meet it head on.
The ground got closer—and closer—and closer—and a shadow zoomed over her, taloned claws as wide as a van snatched her out of the air violently enough to lodge her heart in her throat.
Thank God she hadn’t eaten. Otherwise the contents of her stomach wouldn’t have stayed put as her body came to vicious jerking halt in the dragon’s talons and then shot back up into the sky.
Give me the parking ticket any day!
The ferocious wind and freezing air in the skies over Rainbow Valley burned like acid against Barb’s face. Her eyes watered, dripping tears down her cheeks, and only irritating her skin further. Every jolting beat of the dragon’s humongous leathery wings threatened to empty her stomach.
One of its sharp talons bound her legs to its wiry palm. Another secured her stomach and another her chest and shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides.
Of course, none of it could be real.
After what she’d just seen, Barb wasn’t sure she could tell the difference anymore.
She still couldn’t explain it. A tidal wave of pure shadow had engulfed her on the ground, wrapped her up in darkness and pumped enough electricity through her to light up a power grid. The invisible fingers of lightning left her curled in a useless ball of agony. Even now, she could feel the shadow needles puncturing her skin, her eyes, her mind.
And the vision. Had it been a vision? It had seemed so real. But it wasn’t possible. Her mother. Her mother had been dead for years.
Barb shivered and shoved the memory away. There were more important things to deal with.
Dragon-size things.
And Jenny-size things.
Dragon-size things that had Jenny in their claws and were now taking them somewhere to do God knew what with them.
She wriggled and growled, angrily kicking and struggling within the dragon’s grip, but its hold only tightened.
New strategy.
She clutched the hilt of her handgun, pinned to her side by the dragon’s claws. Firing it was out of the question. Shooting herself wouldn’t help anyone, least of all her. But if she could get it free, that might make the difference.
Far beneath her, the green plains and winding rivers turned to thick forests with twisted limbs. Breaking free now might not be a good idea, but it would still be better than wherever the Centaurs were taking them.
Clamping her eyes shut, Barb stilled herself.
Think small thoughts. She pressed herself against the dragon’s palm, sucked in her breath, and wiggled her right shoulder, making sure to grip only the hilt of the handgun. She made herself as small as she could and pulled.
Her elbow slipped free.
One step at a time.
She stilled herself again and pulled.
With every beat of the dragon’s wings, she freed her arm another inch. Her face burned. Tears from the wind stung her cheeks.
Almost. Almost.
Her arm popped loose from the dragon’s grip, and the force of the wind nearly snapped her forearm against the dragon’s claw.
Wind speed. Hadn’t accounted for that.
Didn’t matter.
The gun had wedged between her collar bone and the dragon’s talon. She fumbled for it and got her fingers around the hilt, pulling it out and aiming for the dragon’s neck, straining above her.
But it didn’t touch it before. Bullets didn’t even scratch it.
Barb turned her gaze forward, narrowed eyes watering and blurry. The metal bit in the dragon’s mouth rested at the connection point of its jaws. It pressed against the creature’s teeth.
If I could hit it, the vibration might give it one heck of a toothache.
A long shot. Literally. But it was better than doing nothing.
Fighting against the wind and the cold and the painful claws digging into her skin through her clothing, Barb aimed at the bit. With every beat of its wings, the beast’s body shifted backward in midair—a momentary respite from the constant blast of icy wind.
If she could get the rhythm, if she could find the pulse—Time slowed down. Barb opened both eyes. The breath-stealing rush of wind faded.
She opened fire.
Barb peppered the dragon’s jaw with gunfire, concussive blasts jarring her straining arm. The bullets bounced off its skin, and the dragon roared in anger but not pain. Until one bullet hit its mark.
Barb heard the clang from where she hung, and the dragon’s response stopped her heart. The bullet ricocheted off the metal bit in its mouth, and the animal jerked in the sky, wings flailing and neck thrashing and claws impulsively releasing all at the same time.
The dragon dropped her.
Unable to stop a scream, Barb flung her hands up and seized one of the dragon’s talons as her body swung free. Her handgun tumbled end over end toward the ground and disappeared into the forests below. And just like that the forests disappeared. The ground turned dead and black and rocky, broken by chasms and dry riverbeds.
No soft place to fall. Nothing to catch to stop herself. She’d waited too long.
Her numb, aching hands clutched the dragon’s claw. Now the wind beat her whole body, whipping her like a flag in a gale.
“Okay.” She clenched her eyes shut. “Okay, I’m in trouble. Not that I wasn’t in trouble before, but I’m really in trouble now.”
The dragon jerked again as it found its former rhythm. Great for it. Not so great for her, as the motion made her nearly lose her grip. Barb used the momentum to swing her legs up to wrap around one of the other talons.
Oh, this isn’t going to work. I’m going to fall.
She let her head drop backward, and her mouth went dry. The dead black rocks below them built on top of each other, the landscape growing and bulging unnaturally, leading to an ugly thumb of rock protruding from the earth like a broken bone. The mountain glowed with orange fire and red smoke, and the cold air burned with the scent of seared flesh and bubbling sulfur.
The dragon shook in the air and spread its wings, slowing its pace and beginning to circle.
“Oh, we’re not going there.” Barb glared up at the dragon. “You’re kidding. That’s a volcano, you moron!”
The dragon couldn’t hear her. Even if it could, it wouldn’t listen. But shouting at it made her feel better.
Fluorescent orange rivers of molten rock oozed down the sides of the mountain, and as the dragon dropped lower, waves of heat from beneath them washed over Barb’s back.
“The Centaur riding a dragon is taking me to a volcano.” Hysterical laughter bubbled out of her throat.
The cold air gave way to warm waves of smoke-scented wind. It brushed over her body, down her arms and fingers, forcing feeling back into them with the sharp burning of extremities a step from frostbite returning to warmth.
But her eyes stopped watering. Now they burned from the smoke, but at least she could see. Seven or eight of the black dragons circled the summit of the mountain, massive wings spread and thorny tails whipping back and forth. Below, a long dark line of armored Centaurs marched in formation to the base of the mountain, the ring of their triumphant cries like a distant roar.
Behold the mighty warriors who felled their great enemy.
Some great enemy. If Jenny’d had a cast iron skillet handy, they’d all have run away like cute fuzzy kittens. She’d been scary enough with her baked chickens.
Together the dragons screeched and dove. Barb scrambled to hold on to the claw, but her hands were wearing out. Her dragon leveled out with a sharp jerk, and Barb caught her breath as a blinding wave of heat hit her like a sledgehammer.
The dragon had glided into a wide cavernous mouth in the side of the mountain summit. Below them now lay the rock-strewn interior of a massive chamber carved from the rocks within the volcano itself. Stalactites on the ceilings, stalagmites on the floors, a hoard of screaming Centaurs shaking spears and shouting as the dragons flew over their heads.
“Oh, this is so bad.”
In the far corner of the chamber, behind a raised ring of stone, a pool of lava bubbled and hissed. Barb could only wonder at its purpose, and she didn’t really want to know.
The dragon banked hard, its form skimming the cavern wall. Barb’s grip on the talon slipped. She scrambled to hold on to its claw, but it was too far away. Her hands were too tired.
Barb hit the side of the cavern wall with enough force to drive the breath from her lungs. The joints in her shoulders and right elbow strained from the impact. In a rain of broken rocks and fragmented stalagmites, Barb rolled down the cavern wall, flailing, scrambling for something to stop her descent.
The dirt tasted foul and rancid, vaguely like the cheese Jim had forgotten about in the fridge for a year, and she couldn’t breathe. The heat of the air was too thick to take in. She skidded down the wall until her feet struck a large boulder. The impact rattled her knees, and she pitched forward, rolling off the boulder and tumbling into a pile of sticks.
Sharp, jabbing pain lanced through her side as a shattered pole tried to run her through. Gasping in pain, Barb grabbed the pole and shoved it away, blood from the stab wound dribbling down her side.
Gripping the wound, panting in desperation for air, Barb lay back on the bed of sticks.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Get used to the heat. Get used to the smell.
Oh, man, the smell. Decay and rot and filth. The air turned her stomach upside down and threatened to gag her.
Her left foot burned.
Strange. Barb lifted her head. Her boot was gone. She must have lost it when she fell, or maybe it had come loose when the dragon tried to drop her. Regardless, it shouldn’t be burning.
Something glossy and wet dripped from above her and slid down her bare foot. Motion in the darkness, a low-pitched growl, the rush of hot, foul breath—not a Centaur.
“This is a joke,” Barb murmured, pushing herself up.
Only three feet in front of her, needle-like teeth appeared in the black, black leathery lips pulled back between saucer-shaped black eyes. As her eyes adjusted, the young dragon’s form stood out darker than the shadows, acidic drool dripping from its teeth.
“You guys just don’t have any redeeming qualities, do you?”
The creature snarled.
And another one just like it snarled behind her.
Barb jumped to her knees and spun, the sticks and poles on the ground stabbing into her legs. Eyes fully used to the dark, she could see the ten creatures circling her. All dragons, all small. Infants, maybe? Hatchlings or not, they still had teeth, but with spit that burned, even being gummed to death wouldn’t be pretty.
“How do you get into these things?” Barb pressed her hand against her face. “Forget how I get into them. How do I get out of them?”
The dragon closest to her lunged at her. She jumped back and rolled. Two of the dragons slammed into each other. She tumbled out of the pile of poles and sticks—a nest?—and hit the warm stone floor.
Two more dragons jumped for her, teeth snapping. She ducked and dodged and flung a roundhouse kick at one of them. It felt like kicking a brick wall, the jarring pain shaking her leg all the way up to her hip. She wouldn’t be doing that again.
What had possessed her to do it in the first place?
“You’re in a dragon nest with ten babies who are trying to eat you.” She dove under another dragon and rolled away out of sight. “Stop criticizing yourself!”
She jumped over another pile of sticks and slid to the bottom, when her feet struck metal. An iron fence? Fences had gates.
“Follow the fence.”
She planted her hands on the floor and paused as her hand found the shaft of a spear. Arrows didn’t work. Guns didn’t work. Shoot, even Meg’s magic laser sword hadn’t worked. But at least she could hit one of the ugly critters. Maybe she could at least hurt its feelings.
She hefted the spear in her tired arms and grabbed the fence, pulling herself up.
There. At the end of the fence. A gate.
The dragons seemed to sense her plan. They charged out of the shadows, teeth flashing and venom dripping from black lips. She swung the spear as she ran. One of the infants hissed in pain as the spear head punctured its eye.
The gate at the end of the fence swung open. How? Why?
Oh. Centaurs.
Three of them with swords and spears and shields, waiting for her.
Dragons or Centaurs? Which one was worse?
A spray of burning drool seared across her back.
At least the Centaurs won’t drool on me. She hoped.
Barb pitched forward and leaped out of the gate as the Centaurs charged with the swords and spears ready. The dragons tumbled backward, shrieking and squealing in rage.
Barb rolled across the warm stones, gasping for breath. The air seemed much better outside of the nest. A flaring pain blossomed on her side as the bleeding wound she’d gotten inside the nest throbbed and burned. She hissed and pressed her hand against it, blood oozing between her fingers and fiery pain spreading up her side.
That was probably a very bad sign.
A harsh call made her jump, and she barked in surprise as a giant hand seized her hair and jerked her forward. A Centaur with hands like a dinner plate had a firm grip on her hair as he dragged her toward the center of the chamber.
“Are you serious, right now?”
The Centaur didn’t answer.
“Oh, enough is enough.” Barb drove her fist into the Centaur’s elbow. He roared with pain and dropped her, and Barb scrambled to her feet.
He bellowed like a thundercloud, reddish hairy face contorted with rage. The Centaur towered seven feet tall with broad shoulders and wide chest armor. His bulging arms and giant hands clenched at his sides, and his four hoofed feet clattered on the stones with fury, his coarse black tail whipping.
“Okay.” Barb jumped back and step and swung the hardest roundhouse she could muster.
The impact of her boot against the Centaur’s chest made a thwacking sound, and he bent in surprise and pain. But he didn’t fall, and he only started growling.
“Next time, I’ll use a baked chicken.”
The Centaur screamed and reached for her. Barb smacked his hands away and turned another kick. With him reaching for her, his face was within striking distance. Her boot snapped his nose. Now he really did scream.
A hard blow to the side of her face sent the room spinning. Her elbows hit the stone floor first, and her hands curled in response to the pain. Another Centaur grabbed her bare ankle.
“Try again, Seabiscuit.” Barb drove the sole of her boot into the Centaur’s knee.
He howled and dropped her ankle, but another Centaur grabbed her and ripped her other boot off, tossing it away. He drove one of his hooves into her bleeding side, and pain washed over her.
Her scalp rippled as another hand grabbed her hair and dragged her forward.
“Barb!”
The Centaur threw her forward. She hit the warm stone floor and skidded on her palms, and then Jenny Mitchell appeared at her side. Jenny’s hair was windblown and wild, her dark eyes wide with fear but her jaw clenched in anger.
She was a Mitchell after all.
“You okay?” Barb asked.
“Stop it. You’re as bad as Meg.” Jenny pulled Barb’s torn kurti off, leaving her in her tank top and the blousy pants. “Let me see.”
As Jenny examined the bleeding wound in her side, Barb quietly cataloged Jenny’s own injuries. Aside from some bruises and scratches, and the deep gash in her chin, Jenny looked unharmed. At least for now.
Jenny pressed her hands into Barb’s bleeding side. “I think it’s just a surface wound,” she whispered. “But we need to get the bleeding stopped.”
“Those dragons,” Barb said. “They spit.”
“Yeah, and it burns.” Jenny held out her forearm that was spattered with red welts.
“What do they want?”
“I don’t know. They’ve never done this before.”
Barb lifted her gaze to stare at the forest of Centaur legs surrounding them. They all spoke in a guttural dialect, harsh words with sharp intonation.
“This is bad,” Barb said.
“You have no idea how bad.”
A loud shout echoed in the chamber, and everything happened at once. The Centaurs lunged at them, massive hands grasping and hooves kicking.
“Barb!” Jenny shrieked.
A Centaur had her by the hair, pulling her across the stones.
Barb leaped up only to be knocked down by a sharp elbow that drove her backward. The back of her head struck the stone floor, and the chamber spun in her vision.
Bad. Very bad.
Rough hands grabbed her arms and flung her forward onto her face, bending her arms back at an awkward angle. She didn’t expect the pain and gasped in shock as the Centaurs forced her arms around a pipe and chained her wrists to it.
Her breath lodged in her throat as they grabbed the pipe and yanked her to her feet.
The tendons in her shoulders screamed, the joints shivering at the painful angle, as the Centaurs shoved her down a dark corridor. The further from the chamber they walked, the colder the air became. The stones turned icy under her bare feet.
She tripped and fell, but the Centaur behind her jerked her to her feet again and pushed her forward.
“Where are you taking me?” She shouted. “Where are you taking Jenny?”
The Centaur snarled something guttural.
She tripped again, her feet going numb at the loss of heat in the floors. The Centaurs jerked her down another corridor, this one lined with little caves. They stopped in front of one and threw her inside.
Barb couldn’t get her balance back and tipped over. The pipe hit at a bad angle and threatened to force her right shoulder out of joint. She groaned in pain but clenched her teeth to stop the sound of it.
The Centaur laughed behind her and slammed a barred gate shut in front of the cavern mouth.
A prison cell.
A prison cell in a volcano, and she was covered in venomous dragon spit.
“Yeah, the parking ticket would be great right about now.”
She got her knees under her body and rolled over to get the weight off the pipe. She bent forward. The feeling had left her hands, the chains binding her wrists to the pipe so tightly that they cut off the blood supply. And even though the cell was still in the volcano, it was oddly cool.
“Just stay calm.” She drew a slow breath. “Work through the pain. Focus on the goal.”
But what was the goal? She’d wanted to escape the dragon, and she’d done that with disastrous results. The overall goal was to keep Jenny safe, and that had failed spectacularly. Jenny was off somewhere being interrogated by a big bad Centaur, and Barb was alone in a prison cell.
“The goal.” She took a shaking breath. “Get off of this pipe.” She tried to jerk her arms free and winced at the shock of agony that tore through her shoulders. “But not like that.”
She let her head droop.
“It’s okay. It’s all right.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’ll get out of this. And even if we don’t, Meg and the others will come. Jim will get here no matter what it takes.”
Even if there were an army of Centaurs between them. Even if the Centaurs had an army of venomous dragons at their beck and call. Even if the Centaurs lived in a volcano.
Barb shook herself.
“The goals.” She swallowed. “Get off this pipe. Get out of this cell. Find Jenny. Escape.”
She could do that. If she couldn’t, she’d die trying.