Repeatedly the 4x4 went airborne two feet and then came down hard with a jarring thud only to bounce and get dragged some more. The impact was so intense that she had to grit her teeth to keep from chipping them or biting off her own tongue. But the beast's panicked flight had a steady rhythm in a flat-out run. The cord would go tight as it came down from a long, loping hop, go slack for a few seconds as the animal's powerful hind legs pushed off the ground, then go tight again. Like music, it filtered into her awareness - she could hear it, feel the pulse of it, recognize the refrain - and she was determined to make that work to her advantage.
New strategy. Damali dropped her crossbow on the floor of the pickup, climbed over the top of the bent-up caged cab section, holding the wire taut until she could swing her body down to plant her feet on the vehicle's hood. She braced for the coming slack in the cable, knees bent, holding the cage, only to release it and grab the cable when it went tight again. The head of that monster had to come off, and the Isis could handle that. The problem was, the were-roo seemed to sense exactly what she was about to do and changed direction again, making her lose her footing.
The wire momentarily went slack with a change in the beast's rhythm. She rolled, caught herself on the cage, slamming her against the metal exterior and temporarily knocking the wind out of her. The driver tried to reach for her, but she couldn't let go to grab his hand. Cable had cut into her palms, the pain like a blowtorch. But summoning a deep breath, she swung her body with the centrifugal force of the next turn, landed on the hood with a grunting thud, and was thankful that her hands weren't between the cable and the metal - a sure amputation at that torque.
Now this thing had really pissed her off. Attempting the head-sever again, she quickly went hand over hand down the cable toward the animal during a ten-second taunt period, and when the cable went slack, she went with the dip, pulling her knees up, riding the air but keeping her legs off the ground, avoiding the wildly thrashing tail. The moment the cable went taut, she used the next hard snap to propel her body like a rocket forward and grasp onto its stinking fur.
The moment her body touched the creature's, it leapt straight up, twisting and writhing, trying to shake her off, but she dug her hands deeper into the offensive fur and gripped its body hard with her knees. The Rover was airborne, coming toward them, a direct collision with her riding the beast's back, imminent. But she held the protruding shoulder stake like a saddle grip, and her blade chimed in the wind as she drew it, saw the African diplomat's vehicle slow and swerve away, and she swung.
A demon screech sliced the night. The demon body beneath her stopped and dropped, bringing her crashing to the ground with it - the Isis flung far from her as the Range Rover being dragged by the tow cable flipped overhead, snap-jerking the demon carcass in a long slide toward a huge rock.
"No!" The African diplomat was out of the back of his vehicle and standing on the hood of his fast-moving 4x4, leaning out toward her, his grip on his driver's cage, one arm outstretched, yelling about the lines, his hand opened wide. "Baby, don't do it! It's not worth it. Let go!"
Truth was truth, whatever the source. She could feel the African master using his power to pull her to him. His expression was pained as he opened his arms, trying to spare her, putting himself in jeopardy of losing the game by leveling dark power. But she couldn't reach him even if she'd wanted to, and truth be told, at that second, part of her did. It was about survival.
She could feel his strength lifting the vehicle, his erotic charge entering her body, attempting to bend her will to give in and go off into the night with him as her prize. Yet, she was resolute and would not go to him. If she did, all that she'd wagered would be lost, and that was also a fate worse than death.
Their electric charges scorched the night sky, met in the air, and created a large sonic boom that cancelled each other out, leaving them both weakened. However, she'd gotten firsthand knowledge of just how strong he was.
Panic transformed into terror as the Range Rover came down on a massive sacred rock formation upside down and exploded with her driver trapped within the cab cage. Fire and gasoline lit up the night, the scent of burning flesh and fuel filled the air, and she was heading toward it all in an unbreakable momentum slide.
"Baby, come to me. Now!" Amin commanded, twisting and lifting Damali's body as she fought against him and the demon that was dragging her.
"Back off!" she yelled, trying to focus on the beast that was dragging her through dirt and rocks on a brutal ride. Her leg was trapped and she snatched her dagger, raised the baby Isis, hit the creature's heart from its rib cage, and torched it. Damali rolled off the creature, slapping cinders from her pants, and then lay very still on the ground for several minutes clutching her weapon. She peered up as three Range Rovers came next to her, and she shut her eyes and breathed out slowly. Good. Thank you. But she knew better than to even mentally reference the hallowed name of who'd probably helped. She was alive and still had all limbs. She hadn't rolled over the line, but her driver was dead and her vehicle totaled. Her body felt like she'd been beat-down by a girl gang in the streets. She slowly pushed herself up to stand, disgusted, and sheathed her dagger.
"Shit!" she hollered. "Only got one of them and my Rover is wrecked!"
Three foreign masters stared at her for a moment, glanced at each other, then motioned for their drivers to head off in a different direction.
She slapped the dust off her, glanced back at her flaming Range Rover, and went to go get Madame Isis. So it was like that, huh?
His Australian host was giving him a run for his money. They were two for two, and this was McGuire's back yard. Carlos brought his vehicle up beside McGuire's with a were-roo running flat-out in an eighty-mile-an-hour gallop between both Rovers. Problem was, the thing was playing them both, making them take aim at each other, then dipping into a portal, coming up alongside one of the 4 X 4s to slam it into the other one. When the Transylvanian master tailgated Carlos, the were-roo disappeared underground, came up dead-center of Carlos's vehicle, causing Tetrosky to ram him.
He had to get out of the center of the pack, and get on the sidelines for better maneuverability. Bunched up, they'd easily hit a light rail, and that was obviously the roo's objective. Then his synapses arced danger. Carlos ducked just as the Transylvanian's stake whirred over his back and took down the roo. Instant incineration, a marksman's shot. Carlos's Rover blew grizzly ash across the plains as it went through the smoldering remains. Fury coiled within him. Yeah it was a warning shot for him, too, right over the bow. Assassination was in the air, just like were-roo sulfur.
Tetrosky gave him a triumphant nod as the other vehicles pulled away to chase another fast-moving target. But Xe was already on it, and had dusted the beast from a hundred yards away.
"Score?" Carlos hollered at his driver, who registered kills on the dashboard.
"The lady has one marked as a twenty-point tackle even though it torched, because she left the vehicle and beheaded it first. She gets five bonus for the near-rail risk shot. All masters, two torches - twenty each. We'll allow for Amin's transgression, because he was attempting to save the mistress, not score on his own behalf."
Carlos nodded. This was way too close a score. The weres were also getting scarce. Then he saw a beauty riding the rails... and it had his name on it. He was out in the open after Tetrosky pulled back, and the other ambassadors had gone in Xe's direction. But this had to be a hand-to-hand bring down, near the rails, to put him out in front at forty-five points.
His driver shook his head no. "Too close to the rails, Mr. Councilman. That's why the odders pulled up."
"Take me to her," Carlos ordered. "She's mine."
"The roo, or the woman, sir?"
"Both!"
"We don't need to risk - "
"Do not argue with me!" Carlos had the crossbow to his chin, his aim steady, timing the hit to nick it, make it change course to avoid the rails if it fell from being wounded. Banking on the survival instinct of the beast, he released the stake, severing the animal's jaw. Timing was everything. It howled, ducked underground, and came up on the other side of the Range Rover. But that trapped the vehicle between the angry creature on one side, and the rails on the other.
Eight hundred pounds of furious, wounded animal slammed the vehicle's side panel, tipping the soupped-up 4x4 onto two wheels.
"We're going over!" the driver hollered. "Dismount, sir!"