He hastened through the tall archway of boulders, leading his men through so they wouldn’t notice the thick veins of gold running along the stones. There were trees that draped over the very large rocks, the canopy high above them. The sun beamed through the branches and the vines dangling from them. He’d only seen vines like that in rain forests. They were snakelike, some green and some banded.
The trail didn’t widen as he’d hoped, it remained about the same. Dex could have run along beside him, but it would have been a tight fit. They were in some kind of corridor. He definitely didn’t remember this from the map in his head.
Crawley slowed to a walk, suddenly concerned that he’d gotten off the main trail again. He didn’t understand how he kept veering off course. He was best at directions, his brain always keeping him exactly where he meant to be. He felt very disoriented. He didn’t remember the rocks at all, and he stumbled a little, the droplets of mist on his skin starting to burn.
“What the fuck?” He swiped at his exposed skin. What the hell was this? Some sort of acid rain–type fog? He looked back at his men. Like him, they were trying to cover their exposed skin. The fog created a weird sensation on skin. There were no blisters or burn marks, nothing to indicate in any way that there was an actual burn—only the impression of one.
“You might want to stop where you are and raise your hands over your heads.” The voice came out of the mist. It was impossible to tell where it came from. The sound seemed to roll with the gray-lavender fog that was now up to their necks.
“Snake, hunt,” Crawley ordered. Mist or not, it wouldn’t matter. His number one killer would find their enemy and dispense with them in record time. Once given the order, Snake was relentless in his pursuit. He could kill in seconds.
His men went back-to-back. They couldn’t see their enemy, even with their enhanced vision, not through the thick fog that continued to spin in giant waves as if alive. Crawley suddenly realized there was no sound either. He had excellent hearing. He should have heard breathing. Birds. Reptiles scuttling in the vegetation beneath their feet.
Because the silence was so intense, when the half-muffled grunt came through the fog, choked off, it sounded especially chilling and ominous. Fingers of fear crept down Crawley’s spine.
“What was that?” Dex asked.
“Don’t know.” But Crawley was afraid he did know, even if he didn’t believe it was possible. No one could get to Snake. He was too fast, too lethal. When he struck, he was like lightning. The toxin he injected worked to paralyze his victim so quickly they had no time to retaliate. He raised his voice just above a whisper. “Hound? Bear? What are you getting?”
The two members of his crew were known as “sniffers.” Their sense of smell was so acute they could ferret out anything or anyone for miles. He and his men had come to depend on their abilities in tight situations such as this one. At no time did he stop looking around him with his enhanced vision, using everything he had in order to penetrate the bands of rolling fog.
“Nothing, Crawley.” There was regret and even shame in Hound’s reply. “I can’t smell anything at all.”
“Neither can I,” Bear added. “This fog has layers to it that seem to confuse my ability to smell anything.”
Crawley cursed under his breath. “Dex? Can you see through this shit? Because I can’t.” He hated to admit it, but it was the truth.
The disembodied voice came out of the rolling fog again. “Put down your weapons. There’s no need for anyone else to get hurt. Any sign of aggression will earn retaliation.”
“Mott, swing around and cover Dex from the other side. Cover fire,” Crawley ordered. “Dex?”
At once, the others sprayed their automatic weapons in every direction. Dex went vertical, leaping high above the strange mist, whirling in a circle, his weapon spitting fire as he strained to find a target with his enhanced vision. He landed on a rock surface in a crouch. The moment he did, something tightened around his neck. He reached up with one hand, curling his fingers in the band.
Dex’s heart jumped. He felt scales, as if a snake had dropped from one of the trees and wrapped itself around his neck. Every movement of his body tightened the coils. With effort, he didn’t panic, gripping the band with his fingers and yanking hard to give himself room to breathe—except it didn’t work. He dropped his gun and caught up his knife. Already he was gasping for air, choking, black spots beginning to waver in front of his eyes.
Bringing up the blade, he tried to saw through the snake’s body as it coiled even tighter. His arm felt too heavy. The body of the snake felt more like a thick piece of wood. He felt his arm drop to his side. His eyesight failed. His lungs burned for air. He tried to call out to Crawley, even to use telepathy, but he couldn’t remember how. Then his knees hit the rock and everything just faded away.