Lupi 08 - Death Magic

couldn’t provide until he stopped seeing double.
    “Rule!” she called “I think Chittenden’s here”—the description could fit Friar’s lieutenant—“and has the amulet! I’m going after him!”
    He flung his head up. “No!” And the demon wolf charged him. He threw himself aside, rolled, and sprang to his feet.
    Lily holstered her gun, which was no damn use whatsoever against creatures who considered a broken neck an inconvenience. And turned away from the man she loved while he battled for his life. Turned and ran.
    Within seconds, Scott caught up with her. He didn’t say a word.
    Rule must have sent him. Her eyes burned.
    The field was clearing out faster than she would have thought possible, but it was far from empty. There were living people still fleeing. And there were bodies. A woman huddled next to one of those bodies, a man whose face and chest were so saturated with blood it was hard to see the ruin of his throat. It was horrible to do nothing. Horrible to keep running, but Lily did, chasing a white shape as vaguely formed as when she’d first seen it at the shooting range. A shape that was always a few yards ahead of her.
    She ran. And ran. Scott kept pace beside her. They passed three clusters of fighting—lupi in both their forms, but mostly wolves, keeping demon wolves busy so they wouldn’t kill the humans who’d assembled here to root for an end to lupi.
    As they drew near the Washington Monument, her ghostly guide suddenly veered to the left, toward a huddled mob of twenty or thirty people being circled by a pair of wolves. She followed, focusing on her breathing, on the even rise and fall of her legs, so she wouldn’t arrive too winded to do anything. And wondering what the hell she was supposed to do to save those people.
    Wait a minute. She recognized one of the wolves. It was José. And he and the large gray wolf weren’t circling the people—they were patrolling, keeping one of the demon wolves away.
    Stupid—she hadn’t noticed till just now, but the demon wolves were all alike. Of course they were. They’d all been made from blood or tissue from Brian’s wolf-form, so they were identical.
    The ground shook.
    Lily staggered, her stride broken. Someone screamed. The ground gave a second, harder shimmy, and she had to stop. Scott took her arm, steadying her.
    A huge something rose from the ground. It was brownish gray and long, really long, and seemed to grow itself out of the earth, absorbing grass and dirt and rocks into itself as it became . No eyes, no legs, not much of anything but body . . . a segmented body three or four feet thick. Like an earthworm.
    This time when the earth shook, Lily fell to her knees. So did Scott. And it kept on shaking.
    Another form emerged, this one breaking and absorbing bits of Madison Street as it reared itself out of the earth . . . out and up, one end questing in the air as if seeking a scent. This one was even bigger, and it pulled itself together faster than the first one had.
    It was not as big as the third one.
    From the stage at the east end of the Mall to a spot just short of the steps to the Washington Monument, the earth bulged. It swelled up like the wall had at Fagin’s, shaping itself into segment after segment of stony worm eight feet thick . . . ten feet thick . . . twelve. Bodies rolled off as it formed itself. And, horribly, some bodies remained, incorporated into its mass along with sticks and stones, purses and grass.
    The earth groaned as the creature began undulating. Moving slowly toward the first elemental.
    A white but detailed Drummond darted in front of her, his mouth moving. Clearly impatient, he tried to grab Lily’s arm. His hand went right through her. She didn’t feel a thing. No cold chills. Nothing.
    He grimaced and beckoned fiercely.
    For one more second she stared at the enormous monster of earth and stone advancing slowly toward its smaller cousin. She couldn’t do anything about elementals. Nothing. Maybe Cullen could—if he was still alive. If he healed from the concussion fast enough.
    She spun and followed Drummond.
    José and the other wolf who’d been harrying the demon wolf had chased it well away from the knot of people. They didn’t seem to realize yet it was time to get away. Maybe they didn’t know where to go. Someone shoved to the edge of the mob. A woman. A woman in dirty jeans and a red shirt, with a face that would make any man hunt for a cloak to throw over puddles.