Demon Forged

block dropped on its head. The dragon shook it off.
    Hovering, Irena shouted, “ Here, you sheep-fucking snake!”
    The dragon circled around toward her, seemed to gather itself. Alejandro streaked between them, began pulling his Gift before the dragon opened its mouth. Fire belched forth.
    The flames billowed toward Alejandro on a wave of heat, licked at his skin, ruffled his feathers. It surrounded him, a bright orange, dancing light. His power slid through the fire, grabbed hold, but it slipped through the fingers of his Gift; he could not control it. The best he could do was turn the flames back toward the dragon.
    The creature shrieked and drew up, flashing its pale underbelly. Rolling to its side to avoid the flames, the dragon snapped its wings, whipped its tail. It darted west, far faster than either Irena or Alejandro could fly.
    They needed Michael—or any other teleporter.
    “Olek!”
    Irena reached him. Her eyes were frantic, her hands moving over his body as if searching for burns. Her expression froze, and she brushed her thumb over his lip. Crimson streaked her skin.
    “Don’t do that again,” she whispered.
    He wiped the blood from his nose and ears. “Only if you do not taunt it again.” He still wanted to shake her for that.
    To his surprise, she nodded before glancing around them. “Where is Michael?”
    Alejandro didn’t see the Doyen, either. But though they could not catch up, neither could they wait. They started out after the dragon. They flew at Alejandro’s fastest speed, and for the first time, he had a moment to look for something that might reveal their location. Water stretched north and south, but to the east and west the faint lines of low-lying land masses darkened the horizon.
    “We are between Sardinia and Italy!” Irena shouted to him over the rush of the wind. “And—”
    She broke off, a look of horror coming over her face. He only saw her mouth move. By the gods.
    The dragon surged upward. Alejandro’s gaze searched higher, and his stomach rolled into a ball of ice. Moonlight reflected off the silver sides of a west-bound commuter jet slicing through the night sky, leaving a vapor trail like blood welling behind a blade. The dragon chased after it, closing in fast.
    He and Irena were both flying faster than the jet, but they could not make up the time the dragon had. They could only watch. The dragon dipped into the vapor trail, darted closer—from nose to tail, its body was longer than the jet’s, its wing-span double the length.
    “We will try to catch them!” he shouted to Irena.
    Perhaps her Gift could hold the fuselage together, even if the dragon ripped the aircraft apart. How many humans could he carry at once? Ten, perhaps, if they clung to him. If the jet was full, it likely carried forty or fifty. Perhaps they could stretch a metal sheet between them like a lifeboat . . . and leave themselves and the humans defenseless against the dragon’s attack.
    He prayed.
    Michael appeared between them, Khavi and Alice ahead of them. Jake and Selah dropped into formation behind, flanked by Drifter and Luther, Mariko and Radha. Michael took a single glance, and gave the signal to teleport again.
    Too late. They appeared beside the dragon as it snatched at the jet like pulling a fish from the water. Metal shrieked as claws scored the aluminum fuselage. The jet seemed to bump across the air.
    Hysterical screams sounded from inside.
    Alejandro searched for Jake, saw the young Guardian had already teleported beneath the jet and flattened his palms to the metal skin. His electric Gift sizzled across Alejandro’s mind, filled the air with static. Through the small oval windows, Alejandro saw the lights inside the cabin flicker and burst in showers of sparks. The dragon jolted and screamed, releasing the fuselage and diving toward the sea.
    The engines sputtered and died. With sickening inevitability, the nose sloped downward. Michael teleported, braced his hands behind the hatch for the forward landing gear. His black wings quadrupled in size, their span as wide as the jet’s.
    Michael shouted, “Khavi, Mariko, Radha, Alice—with me!” He looked to Irena. “ You must stop it.”
    Her face pale, she nodded. Irena flew over the fuselage, dragged her hand over its surface, sealing the claw marks with her Gift.
    She glanced at Alejandro, and they dove after the dragon.

    Either strike for the heart, or run as quickly as you can.
    Running was no longer an