Shots blast past me. I shoot back, incensed, blood tracing discernible paths through my every limb, renewing my energy. I pull the trigger, changing my aim after every hit. My martial arts training kicks in and I move, fluid, confidently—my hand a mere extension of my very thoughts: a precise tool.
Two men go down. I roll behind a crate, next to one of the fallen bodies. I round the wooden box and come out on the other side, aiming for a third enemy, but he’s down already, eyes open, staring blankly at the dark sky. I run and take cover next to him. Crouching low, I let my lungs pump for precious air while my veins run afire with adrenaline. I take a few deep breaths and ready myself for another attack. Every time I stick my neck out there, I hang my life from a fraying thread.
It feels right. It feels worth it.
Before running out, I check how many bullets I have left. Only three. Cursing at the delay, I take out a new magazine from the side pocket of my cargo pants. I’m about to reload when a series of clanks—like ice skates moving on metal—breaks my concentration. My eyes snap upward and spot movement on the fire escape, about four stories above.
A dark shape stands out against the cloudy sky. It’s large, but moves at a prodigious speed that seems to defy the laws of physics. In a flash, it leaps over the metal railing and into open space. A pair of wings splays open, and the creature dives head first in my direction, plummeting like a meteor.
I scramble back, out of the way, dropping the magazine. The creature lands just inches away, its leathery appendages behind its back still flapping. The wings are small relative to the creature’s size, as if they’re not done growing yet. Large joints protrude through the thin, stretched out membrane that covers them. I think of a bat, then of the creatures that attacked Xave when he was our lookout during the assault.
A shock of black coarse hair hangs over the beast’s forehead between two horrendous ears the size and shape of soup bowls. It’s perfectly round eyes shine black, like gems. It’s bloated mouth makes chittering sounds through two rows of long, pointed teeth. The thing wears no clothes and, although it still seems human in places, it isn’t. Not one bit.
This is an animal, a terrifying predator of the night.
As it crouches over me, the beast stamps huge talons on the ground, making terrible, pecking sounds with them. The hum in the back of my head intensifies in response to its closeness. It assesses me, its huge ears cocking to one side while it chitters and chitters. I cower, trembling like a scared mouse.
Without warning, the thing flaps its wings and flies backward, away from me. I stare, petrified, the gun useless in my stiff fingers. The thing thinks I’m an Eklyptor and, now it moves on, probably looking for human victims.
Panic froths in my chest, a heavy foam that seems to expand and expand. The only humans I can think of are Clark and Blare. But what if there are others? Fresh recruits? New allies I never got a chance to meet. James is the leader of our IgNiTe cell, but there are others. I rise with the jolt of my panic. We’ve already lost Xave and Oso. We can’t lose anyone else. Every single human here is more precious than anyone who’s been tainted, Eklyptor or Symbiot.
I barely have time to reassess my position when more metallic clanks come from above. They are fast, one after the other, like bullets raining on sheet metal. My gaze snaps upward. A half-dozen bat-like creatures have appeared on the fire exit, their clawed talons scraping against the staircase. They jump down, spreading wings that vary in size and span anywhere from four to ten feet in width. Some land on the pavement, others swoop low, then fly in different directions, talons held at the ready, like those of falcons diving for prey. Some even hold rifles.
Oh, hell!
There is no nightmare worse than this reality.
Ignoring the cold numbness, the horrible premonition in the pit of my stomach, I turn to look for James. Of course, I don’t see him anywhere, but there’s evidence of his work. Only one of Elliot’s men remains upright, still shooting toward the advancing Hailstone soldiers. He’s across the street, screaming for backup into a handheld radio to soldiers who are otherwise engaged. I run in his direction in a diagonal line. He jumps when he sees me and changes his aim. I pull the trigger at the same time that a ball of electricity flies past me and strikes him in the chest, sending him into convulsing spasms that bring foam to his mouth.
I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, expecting to see Aydan, but I don’t. All I see is a couple of bat creatures swooping down, shooting their rifles, raining bullets on what I assume are IgNiTe fighters. But I can’t worry about Aydan or anyone right now, not when I’m so close to Elliot’s car.
Amazon Woman is the only one still shooting at Hailstone. She is so intent on her targets and so good at what she does that she hasn’t noticed every single member of her backup team is out of commission.
For no apparent reason, she stops shooting and goes eerily still. Then, in one sudden motion, she whirls, her eyes swiveling in all directions, searching for danger. She seems to be focused on the air in front of her, but when she doesn’t see anything, her eyes move further down the line and spot me running toward her.
We aim at each other.
I shoot.
She shoots, but, inexplicably, her arm jerks upward, and the bullet goes wild.
My shot strikes the car, right next to her hip. She rolls to the side, and I shoot again. I cut to the right, expecting her attack, but instead, she shoots to her left, toward empty space.
I stop, my heart collapsing to the bottom of my chest, cognizant of what’s just happened before my mind has a time to grasp the situation.
As if by magic, James materializes next to Amazon Woman. Eyes wide, he staggers backward and hits the ground. A starburst of blood blooms on his chest.