Hellbender - Dana Cameron Page 0,106

that loaned power, I was a master of what it represented. The sword was no longer perfect steel, folded over and over ten thousand times; for my purpose, it had turned into black diamond, flecked with moonlight. I Changed, not able to wield this power without summoning some of the strength my other nature represented, and stood on top of the blue thread, which was now as massive as a drainage pipe with my new perspective. I swung with everything in my being.

I brought the katana down.

It bounced off the thread, as if it was made of rubber. Just like the intruders in the mind-lab.

I tried again, feeling the borrowed power course through me.

Nothing.

Squinting, I could barely make out where I’d hit the blue thread. I reached out and tried to pull it apart with my hands. It burned with cold to my bones.

The katana wouldn’t do it. Like the tools that belonged to the orange demo crew, it was a product of the Maker influence on its Fangborn artisan.

I summoned the hybrid Celtic/Anglo-Saxon sword I’d found in Kanazawa; I knew it had tremendous power, but not from the Makers.

I swung.

A cut appeared in the blue thread, like a notch axed from a tree. My arm went numb at the blow. I summoned all my reserves, feeling the strain pulling at the core of myself, threatening to tear me apart, and swung again. Sparks flew, blinding me. A cacophony filled my ears, the sound of worlds exploding. I prayed it was not indicative of what was happening in the here and now.

There was a bellowing in the void around me; the überdragon, even larger than last time, was on its way. I’d woken up the Makers. This was not what they thought of as orderly. It was not what they wanted. Three hydra heads of the überdragon appeared, followed by its massive body, the noise like a bomb blast.

I was a sitting duck. I swung again at the cable.

Halfway through, this time. One more would have to do it; it was all I had strength for.

A blast of energy appeared so powerful, it lit up the void. Heading my way, it fell short and dissipated, but the überdragon was following, preparing another blast.

Flashes before my eyes—I couldn’t tell if they were from the silver thread or my brain collapsing in on itself. I lifted my arms, feeling them wobble under the weight—what weight?—of the sword. I felt about as tough as a plate of soggy pasta. My heart pounded so hard, so fast, I thought it would break out the cage of my ribs.

Last chance, Zoe.

The überdragon was nearly on me now, and I knew I would perish with its next burst. I paused, pulled out the blaster, and fired at the hydra. I felt myself go weak as it drained my energy. I could barely move but had bought myself some time.

I swung, and this time, the sword cut cleanly through but only to the last core of the strand.

It was not going to give under the sword. Any sword.

I had one trick left. I pulled up the bone-and-soul-chilling thread and bit it. My werewolf fangs sheared through the last fragment.

The thread was broken.

I howled, even as my life was leaving me. I felt a tremendous rushing, like rapids heading for a waterfall, and my feet were knocked out from under me. I grabbed at what was left of the thread; it turned white and disintegrated. With a planet-shattering rumble, the black waves rearranged themselves and swallowed up the hole left by the vanished thread. I was unmoored and unsupported. A tiny pop of emptiness deep inside told me I’d been successful. When the wave hit me, I was knocked far away.

I saw Dr. Osborne hovering near me. “I think it’s time to jump ship, Zoe. Unless you want to get sucked up into the vortex.”

“Good idea,” I croaked. “Dragons?”

“We’re on it.”

A volcanic roar in the void as my three friends appeared, straining, screaming with indignation at the überdragon, who was struggling to get one last blast at me. They grabbed me and I followed them back home.

I found myself in a pile of blood and sweat on the floor of my room on Flock Island. My clothes were limp and soggy, as though I’d had a fever. The cat hissed at me.

Oh, gross. Cleanup in aisle five, I thought before I passed out.

Chapter Eighteen

I woke up, stiff as hell, with a terrible hollow feeling inside and out. A