cartoon flowers while the beast bucked like a bronco on steroids. And then took off down the street, slamming itself into parked cars and, when that didn’t work, running onto sidewalks, trying to scrape me off on the sides of buildings. That was fun.
But it didn’t work, either, although less because of any great ability on my part and more because sheer terror had locked my hands in that mane. I didn’t think I could have let go if I’d wanted to, and I didn’t want to. Did I mention that it was a very large unicorn? It stood the height of a Clydesdale if not taller, and was built like a brick shit-house.
I was not going to tire this thing out, I realized. I was going to have to put the damned blindfold on. Of course, that would be easier without the kibitzing.
“I’m coming out.” That was Louis-Cesare, in his stubborn voice.
“Do not come out.”
“We talked about this!”
“Yes, we did. We agreed that I was smaller and less likely to be noticed—”
“I think it has noticed!”
“Do not come out,” I said, through gritted teeth. “I’ve got this.”
“I’m coming out!”
Shit.
But the conversation did give me the impetus to finish the job, edging up and throwing Jason’s hoodie over the beast’s face.
For a moment, nothing happened, unless you counted a wildly whipping head as the creature tried to sling off what I was determinedly holding in place. But when that didn’t work, it started to slow down, not liking the idea of pelting forward without being able to see. Finally, it stopped altogether.
For a moment, both of us just stayed there, breathing hard. Or, at least, I was. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I crawled forward, stretched out an arm with the windshield wiper, and snared the final purse handle—
And pushed it off the horn.
It landed in a gutter, splashing Louis-Cesare’s jeans when he suddenly appeared beside it. I hopped off the unicorn’s back, dragging the hoodie along with me, and preparing for a fight. But it bolted instead, glittering off into the night, the gilded hooves galloping down the road in what sounded like relief.
Or maybe that was me. I sagged back against my hubby, whose arms went around me. “You make me crazy,” he whispered, and kissed the top of my head.
“Next one’s on you,” I promised, shakily.
“Yes, it is.” It was grim.
And then our brief moment of privacy was over, and we were standing in a crowd. One by one, the other members of our team appeared, scattered around the street and sidewalk. Only, they weren’t our team.
Not even close.
I guessed that was what everyone had been discussing while I was busy.
“Well, I’m staying with them.” That, surprisingly, came from Ranbir.
“What the hell?” Sarah demanded.
He took the charm from her and activated it again. He had been right: now that we were stationary, the map was a lot easier to read. There was also a new feature, or one I hadn’t noticed before.
The streets were demarcated with a 3-D outline, but also featured dots—some large, some small, some huge—moving along them. I was pretty sure that I knew what the dots were, which was not good news. There were a crap ton of them.
“This is us,” Ranbir confirmed, pointing at a small group of dots. “This,” he pointed at an area way the hell off to the side, “is the closest point outside the fog. In between, you’ll notice that there are fifteen streets?”
“Streets filled with monsters,” Ev added helpfully.
“We’ll take a rickshaw,” Sarah said stubbornly. “There has to be one around here somewhere.”
“Yes, I’m sure there is,” Ranbir agreed. “I am also certain that it will eat your face.”
“Why . . . why eat?” I asked.
He shrugged. “For the same reason that the monster in the ring went after Tomas. These creatures need magic the way we need food. Any magic they come across, they will try to absorb—including us. And the stronger you are, the tastier.”
He looked pointedly at the two vampires.
“I’ll take my chances,” Tomas snarled, and started off.
Ranbir shrugged, and went back to scrutinizing the map.
“Wait,” the girl said. And ran after Tomas.
“You can’t tell me that every magical device in this area has been . . . affected,” Louis-Cesare said, his brow knitting, probably because he couldn’t find the right word.
“Monsterfied,” I offered, and the mage suddenly laughed.
“Monsterfied; I like that,” he said, rolling it around on his tongue. “And, yes, you’re absolutely right. Many of them aren’t a problem anymore. They’ve already been cannibalized.”