The Beast (Black Dagger Brotherhood 14)

Heart pounding, she swallowed and punched the gas again, afraid there were others behind it, but even more terrified by whatever was happening with Rhage. Rechecking her cell, she followed the directions around to the back side of the school, to a one-laner that took her into the shaggy mess of a landscape.

Just as she wondered where the hell she was supposed to go from there, the question was answered. Off across a meadow, the beast stood out among the abandoned buildings like something out of a SyFy Channel movie. Tall enough to reach the roofs, big enough to dwarf even a dormitory, mean as a tiger teased with a meal, the thing was in full attack mode.

Tearing off the roof of a shed with its teeth.

She didn’t bother killing the engine.

Mary threw the Volvo in park and leaped out. In the back of her mind, she was aware that the uneven bap-bap-bap in the background was bullets flying, but she wasn’t going to worry about that. What she was panicked about?

Whoever the hell was in that building.

As she ran toward the dragon, she put two fingers in her mouth and blew hard.

The whistle was high-pitched, loud as a scream—and made no impression at all as the shingles of the brick structure got spit out to one side.

The roar that followed was something she knew all too well. The beast was ready for his Happy Meal, and that whole rafter-relocation thing was its way of getting into the container.

Mary tripped over something—oh, God, it was a lesser that was missing an arm—and kept going, blowing another whistle. And a third—

The beast froze, its flanks pumping in and out, purple scales flashing in the darkness as if the thing were lit from within by an electrical source.

The fourth whistle brought its head around.

Slowing her run, Mary cupped her hands to her mouth. “Come here! Come on, boy!”

Like the beast was just the world’s largest dog.

The dragon let out a chuff and then blew through its nostrils, the sound something between a whoopee cushion and a jet engine taking off.

“Come here, you!” she said. “Leave that alone. It’s not yours.”

The beast looked back at what was now just four brick walls and not much else, and a snarl curled its black lip off jagged teeth that would have given a great white dental insecurity. But like a German shepherd called to heel by its trainer, Rhage’s curse turned away from its deconstruction job and bounded over to her.

As the dragon came through the weeds and brambles, its great weight shook the ground so badly, Mary had to put her arms out for balance.

But, impossible though it seemed, the thing was smiling at her, its gruesome face transformed by a joy that she wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it every time she was around the monster.

Stretching her hands up, she greeted that great, dropped head with soft words of praise, putting her palm on its circular cheek, letting it breathe in her scent and hear her voice. In her peripheral vision, she saw two people break out of the ruined building—make that one person who was able-bodied and running hard, and another who was up on a strong shoulder, obviously injured.

She didn’t dare look directly at them to see who it was. Their best chance was her connection with the curse—and it was strange. As ugly as the thing was, as terrifying and deadly as it could be . . . she felt an abiding love warm her body. Her Rhage was in there somewhere, trapped under the layers of muscle and scales and third-party cognition, but more than that, she adored the beast as well—

The shots came from the right, and on instinct, she shouted and ducked to cover her head.

The dragon took over from there, wheeling toward the shooters at the same time it managed to wrap its tail around Mary and tuck her in against its flank. And then they were on the move. The ride was a rough one, like a mechanical bull suffering from power surges, and she held on to one of the larger barbs for dear life.

Thank God for that bony protrusion. Because what happened next involved a whole lot of “Twist and Shout.”

First there were screams. Terrible, nightmare screams that she would have covered her ears to block out—except she didn’t dare let go and risk getting thrown free—

Up and over.

A slayer, which was leaking like a sieve, went flying over the beast’s back, and black blood hit Mary like bad-stench rain. The thing landed in a broken heap—and the chaser that followed, a second lesser that was likewise over-the-shouldered, hit the first like a boulder.

Oh . . . look. No head. Wonder where that—

Something that was vaguely round and had a face on one side and a thatch of blond hair on the other basketballed across the long grass that had been flattened under the dragon’s enormous hind feet . . . paws . . . claws . . . whatever.

The beast kept her along for the ride for the rest of the fun and games. Talk about a hearty meal. In its wake, arms and legs, more heads—rarely a torso, because that was probably good eating—littered the ground. Fortunately, nothing looked like a Brother or a fighter, but oh, God, the smell. She was going to have to Neti Pot her sinuses for a month after this.

Just as she was losing track of time, right around the moment that she wasn’t sure whether she could hold on for much longer, the beast’s momentum slowed and stopped. Its great head swung left and right. Its body pivoted around. More with the searching.

The landscape seemed empty of anything that moved, nothing but static, decaying buildings, trees without leaves, and dark shadows that stayed put wherever she looked. The Brothers had to still be on the campus; no way they would leave without Rhage. But no doubt they were watching the great dragon from behind good cover. And as for the slayers? The balance of the enemy must have either taken off, been incapacitated, or gotten eaten. pounding, she swallowed and punched the gas again, afraid there were others behind it, but even more terrified by whatever was happening with Rhage. Rechecking her cell, she followed the directions around to the back side of the school, to a one-laner that took her into the shaggy mess of a landscape.

Just as she wondered where the hell she was supposed to go from there, the question was answered. Off across a meadow, the beast stood out among the abandoned buildings like something out of a SyFy Channel movie. Tall enough to reach the roofs, big enough to dwarf even a dormitory, mean as a tiger teased with a meal, the thing was in full attack mode.

Tearing off the roof of a shed with its teeth.

She didn’t bother killing the engine.

Mary threw the Volvo in park and leaped out. In the back of her mind, she was aware that the uneven bap-bap-bap in the background was bullets flying, but she wasn’t going to worry about that. What she was panicked about?

Whoever the hell was in that building.

As she ran toward the dragon, she put two fingers in her mouth and blew hard.

The whistle was high-pitched, loud as a scream—and made no impression at all as the shingles of the brick structure got spit out to one side.

The roar that followed was something she knew all too well. The beast was ready for his Happy Meal, and that whole rafter-relocation thing was its way of getting into the container.

Mary tripped over something—oh, God, it was a lesser that was missing an arm—and kept going, blowing another whistle. And a third—

The beast froze, its flanks pumping in and out, purple scales flashing in the darkness as if the thing were lit from within by an electrical source.

The fourth whistle brought its head around.

Slowing her run, Mary cupped her hands to her mouth. “Come here! Come on, boy!”

Like the beast was just the world’s largest dog.

The dragon let out a chuff and then blew through its nostrils, the sound something between a whoopee cushion and a jet engine taking off.

“Come here, you!” she said. “Leave that alone. It’s not yours.”

The beast looked back at what was now just four brick walls and not much else, and a snarl curled its black lip off jagged teeth that would have given a great white dental insecurity. But like a German shepherd called to heel by its trainer, Rhage’s curse turned away from its deconstruction job and bounded over to her.

As the dragon came through the weeds and brambles, its great weight shook the ground so badly, Mary had to put her arms out for balance.

But, impossible though it seemed, the thing was smiling at her, its gruesome face transformed by a joy that she wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it every time she was around the monster.

Stretching her hands up, she greeted that great, dropped head with soft words of praise, putting her palm on its circular cheek, letting it breathe in her scent and hear her voice. In her peripheral vision, she saw two people break out of the ruined building—make that one person who was able-bodied and running hard, and another who was up on a strong shoulder, obviously injured.

She didn’t dare look directly at them to see who it was. Their best chance was her connection with the curse—and it was strange. As ugly as the thing was, as terrifying and deadly as it could be . . . she felt an abiding love warm her body. Her Rhage was in there somewhere, trapped under the layers of muscle and scales and third-party cognition, but more than that, she adored the beast as well—

The shots came from the right, and on instinct, she shouted and ducked to cover her head.

The dragon took over from there, wheeling toward the shooters at the same time it managed to wrap its tail around Mary and tuck her in against its flank. And then they were on the move. The ride was a rough one, like a mechanical bull suffering from power surges, and she held on to one of the larger barbs for dear life.

Thank God for that bony protrusion. Because what happened next involved a whole lot of “Twist and Shout.”

First there were screams. Terrible, nightmare screams that she would have covered her ears to block out—except she didn’t dare let go and risk getting thrown free—

Up and over.

A slayer, which was leaking like a sieve, went flying over the beast’s back, and black blood hit Mary like bad-stench rain. The thing landed in a broken heap—and the chaser that followed, a second lesser that was likewise over-the-shouldered, hit the first like a boulder.

Oh . . . look. No head. Wonder where that—

Something that was vaguely round and had a face on one side and a thatch of blond hair on the other basketballed across the long grass that had been flattened under the dragon’s enormous hind feet . . . paws . . . claws . . . whatever.

The beast kept her along for the ride for the rest of the fun and games. Talk about a hearty meal. In its wake, arms and legs, more heads—rarely a torso, because that was probably good eating—littered the ground. Fortunately, nothing looked like a Brother or a fighter, but oh, God, the smell. She was going to have to Neti Pot her sinuses for a month after this.

Just as she was losing track of time, right around the moment that she wasn’t sure whether she could hold on for much longer, the beast’s momentum slowed and stopped. Its great head swung left and right. Its body pivoted around. More with the searching.

The landscape seemed empty of anything that moved, nothing but static, decaying buildings, trees without leaves, and dark shadows that stayed put wherever she looked. The Brothers had to still be on the campus; no way they would leave without Rhage. But no doubt they were watching the great dragon from behind good cover. And as for the slayers? The balance of the enemy must have either taken off, been incapacitated, or gotten eaten.