Heart of a Dragon

Chapter Thirty-Seven

In the second that the world grew still and Donovan hesitated, Anya Cabrera regained her balance and spun on them like an enraged cat. The girl she possessed was lovely, but with Anya's spirit twisting her features she looked like a wild, feral animal. Donovan stood his ground. He held the bit of parchment before him and continued to read. His words were steady and measured. There was little or no variance in his tone. The sound was soothing, mesmerizing, and its effect was immediate.

Tendrils of light materialized from the air surrounding Anya. They began above her and out of her line of sight, but as she moved to attack they dropped over her in glowing ringlets and formed a net that stopped her in her tracks. She tried to break through, but it held against her assault; where her skin touched the links of light, sparks shot out in all directions. She screamed in rage and backed away, only to find that the net had dropped behind her as well. Donovan's voice grew in strength and volume and he took a step closer.

Anya grew very still. She watched him approaching, her eyes black pits of hatred, and then — without warning — she began to laugh. The sound grew from a low, crackle like waxed paper flapping in a breeze to the deep cracking of ice breaking in a river. It rose in volume, stretched out and increased in power until the web of light around her shimmered and wavered. She reached out with one hand, almost casually, and plucked at the net with a long nail. It shivered. One frail strand stretched, and though the sparks still flew, and there must have been incredible heat and pain, Anya continued to pull.

Donovan felt Amethyst move up behind him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and in the periphery of his vision he saw a golden glow emanate from something clutched in her fingers. She leaned in and read over his shoulder. The parchment contained only a single, two stanza charm. She whispered softly and carefully, and wound her voice in with his. The net around Anya Cabrera flared suddenly and grew strong. The old Houngan pulled her hand back with another screech of pain and rage.

"You will fail," she cried. "You will fail because your net is meant to cage a mortal, a human captive. I am no longer a part of your weak, puny race. I walk two planes. I share the power of the Loa. It flows through my blood and you have no power to bind it. There is no power in this world to bind it."

As she spoke, she stepped forward. She reached out and slid her fingers through the links of light, gripped tightly, and began to pull. Smoke rose from her fingers. Donovan heard the sizzle and pop of skin, but still she did not relent. She pulled, and the strands of light stretched. Amethyst gasped and leaned against him. The energy they were expending to create the web of light drained his strength, and he knew it was weakening her as well. They could only hold on for so long, but there was nothing else to do. She was too powerful.

"I can't hold it," Amethyst gasped. She clutched at him with her free hand, gripping so tightly he thought her nails might have pierced his shoulder. He used the pain and focused it. He drew power from deep within himself and funneled it through his lips. He pulled the words from the small paper, words he knew well, and flung them into the night. The web surged again, and then again, and once more Anya stepped back with a screech. Her smile didn't falter. She knew he couldn't keep it up. It was only a matter of time until the trap failed, and she was free. When that happened, he wasn't even certain the two of them would make it out of the park alive.

Beyond Anya, something moved. Donovan watched at the periphery of his sight, but he didn't lessen his concentration. Jake had knelt behind Anya and leaned over the flag. All Donovan could make out of the once magnificent painting was a spreading stain. It was dark, and there should have been nothing but shades of gray. Impossibly, the stain on that flag was brilliant, blood red. Snake's blood.

Donovan sensed that Snake still lived, but barely. A second figure rose beside Jake. Salvatore. He held something in his hands, and Donovan realized it was the tent pole. It had snapped in the fall, but Salvatore still clutched it. The boy stepped toward Anya, raising the broken stick like a club over his head.

"No!" Donovan cried. He spoke before he thought, and it cost him his control. The net abound Anya Cabrera shimmered and fell apart in a shower of sparks. She screamed in rage, turning in a circle as if uncertain which of them to attack first.

Salvatore struck. He swung the broken tent post in a quick, hard arc that slapped into Anya's head with a sickening crunch. She staggered. She did not go down, not exactly, but her legs seemed, just for a moment, to lose the ability to hold her erect. She took a lurching step toward Donovan, tried to turn, failed, and started to fall.

The night erupted in sound. The sky, which had taken on a silver glow as the mist cleared and the moon shone through, grew suddenly dark. A thunderous roar shook the ground, threatened to topple the trees, and drove Donovan back into Amethyst so hard they toppled. He fought for balance, failed, and did his best to land softly. He knew if he went down and stayed down, Anya would not hesitate to attack, and she was too strong to allow even a moment's advantage.

Then he was driven to the ground with such force the breath left him, and it was all he could do not to pass out. He gasped, clutched at the grass, and stared upward. The dragon dropped from the sky with stunning speed. It was like watching an eagle the size of an elephant dropping from incredible heights.

The only one who retained footing was Anya Cabrera. The old Houngan lifted her face to the sky, and she screamed in defiance. Donovan noted, as his pulse thundered in his ears and he fought desperately for consciousness, that Anya's voice could be heard, even over the scream of the dragon and the roar of wind that accompanied its descent. She actually reached up, as though she might catch it and drag it to the ground.

The two collided. There was a snap of sound and energy that blacked out all light. Once again the air was sucked out from around them, and then, as the dragon rose with another scream, it returned in a rush. The world swam before Donovan's eyes. He was lifted slightly by the returning rush of air and he spun, getting his hands beneath him and pressing up. He made it to his knees, and then to his feet. Dirt and dust and leaves swirled around him but he waved his arm, found his voice, and spoke. His single word stilled the air around him — a circle formed, about twenty feet in circumference, and he stood at its center.

He craned his neck and stared into the sky. The dragon was so high, even after only a few seconds, that it seemed no more than a large bird, flying into the face of the moon. Donovan heard a cry to his right and spun. Salvatore had crawled over to where Snake lay across the bloody sheet that had been a flag. The boy turned, his face awash in tears.

Jake knelt across from him. The big man turned to Donovan.

"He's dead," Jake said.

There was a crackle of energy. Far up, thousands of feet, a tear in the darkness shot a bolt of pure energy to the earth. It struck with surgical precision, driving Salvatore and Jake back and slamming into Snake's body with the force of a lightning strike. The air filled with the scent of ozone, and the light blinded them all — just for a second. Then it was gone.

Donovan opened his eyes. The park was just a park again. Snake lay very still across the tattered remnant of what now appeared to be no more than an old sheet. Salvatore lay to one side, and Jake was getting groggily to his feet. Amethyst sat in the dirt shaking her head, and in between them all, a young woman's body lay crumpled and silent.

Donovan stepped forward and knelt. He placed a hand on her throat. She was alive.

Far in the distance a siren rose.

All around them, men stood. They brushed branches, leaves, and dirt from hands, faces, and clothing. Los Escorpiones and Dragons alike seemed confused, lost and without purpose.

"You have to get them out of here," Donovan said, turning to Jake. "Get your people back to the clubhouse. I'll help with Snake."

Jake stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then the big man glanced around, took in the chaos, and nodded. He stared at one of Los Escorpiones, standing only a few feet away. The man met his gaze, but there was no animosity in that stare. Jake nodded once, and they turned their separate ways.

Jake gathered several of the Dragons nearest him and spoke to them in low tones. They spread out through the park, and in only moments, motors fired up and down the road. Headlights sliced the park, and the crossing beams of those brilliant lights, Salvatore, Jake, and Donovan lifted Snake on what had once been his flag, and carried the Dragon president's body from the park.

Amethyst had managed to revive the girl, and helped her along in their wake. They passed through the parked bikes and crossed the street, disappearing into a darkened alley. Santini Park stood dark and silent. Only Snake and Jake's bikes remained, tilted on their kickstands and watching, like silent sentinels. More sirens rose, but the park was bare. The moon shone bright and clear.