only one buckle undone. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled, and he must have had better leverage on his feet because this time, the tank ripped. My amulet tumbled into view, jostling Billy's necklace for space between my breasts, and my attacker let out a screech and jumped back. He cradled the hand that had brushed against the charm as if it had been burned, and a black mark appeared on his skin in the shape of the rowan cross. I plunged my hand into the half-open pack and finally clutched the gun.
I am not the world's greatest shot. In fact, I suck. But even I don't usually miss when my targets are three feet away. I didn't worry about aiming, just let off a barrage of bullets that splintered the barklike skin of the oak men as if I was firing at actual wood. The taller let out a squeal and took off down the trail, while his fat companion huddled on the ground, hands over his mossy head. The iron bullets obviously caused them pain, but although they were oozing a syrupy substance from every wound, they were both alive and moving when my clip ran out. I stared at them in disbelief; what did it take to stop one of these things?
The coat Pritkin had given me was lying nearby, where I had dropped it alongside the pack when we stopped to rest. But I had no time to search for the right bullets. The short Fey realized that I had stopped shooting and grabbed for me. I flattened the rowan charm against his forehead, pushing it into his skin as hard as I could. The flesh around it immediately turned black and start smoking, giving off a smell exactly like a burning campfire.
He tore away from me, clutching his head and screaming. I don't know whether he would have tried again, because the pixie suddenly appeared and, despite the fact that he was momentarily incapacitated, slapped him with the flat of her sword. The blow must have been more forceful than it looked, because he went sailing into the forest until he was stopped by an overhanging limb. He hit the ground hard, unconscious or worse. I didn't wait to find out, my only thought to get to Mac.
Huge hands descended on me at the same time that a scream reverberated through the forest. I looked down the path in time to see a root as large as a small tree erupt from the scarred ground right under Mac's feet. Time seemed to stop-I couldn't even feel my heart beating anymore-and then everything suddenly sped up. The root ripped out of the ground, piercing Mac through the center of his back. "No," I breathed, but no one heard, no one cared. Mac's body strained upward until his spine left the grass completely, his fingers digging into the hard-packed dirt, then the root burst out of his torso in a great gush of blood.
The pixie nodded once to the guards and they released me. I shot down the path, but Mac was already limp by the time I reached him, sightless eyes staring up without recognition. "Mac," I shook the unresponsive body gently. "Mac, please…”
Unresisting, his head lolled to the side just as a shower of gold hit the dark ground. My blood ran cold when I realized what had happened. Mac's wards had solidified and fallen away, leaving the skin between the unmoving leaves as pink and unmarked as a newborn's. I picked up one of the small shapes with a shaking hand. It was the tiny lizard, frozen in midleap. Next to my knee was a snake as long as my arm, uncurled from its usual place around his neck. And beside his ruined chest lay an eagle the size of my hand.
I stared at them numbly, knowing what it meant that his wards had deserted him, but not willing to let my brain shape the word. A deafening din rose up from the assembled spectators, but I didn't even look up at the screeching and howling. Until the roots came back.
If I had thought there were a lot before, I was instantly reminded how many are needed to feed even a small tree. They were suddenly everywhere, shooting out of the forest, erupting from the ground, diving from the underbrush. A few paused to leech Mac's blood from the spreading puddle that had almost covered the path, but most dove for