The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,62

mean.”

“In theory,” I concede. “And Wyn—”

“I know,” he says.

I say it anyway. I have to. “It will destroy everything you’ve built here—the Floridita, Mama Beti’s house, Larry, the treehouse—it will all disappear in a blink.”

Wyn nods, his face resigned. “Understood. Let’s get it over with.”

“Okay. Slowly.”

He nods and we sniper-walk toward the desk.

Step, step, step. We gain a few feet.

We pass by Medieval Moderne, the boutique where I bought my wench dress, and I do a double take. The mannequin in the window is wearing the very same meadow-green dress as mine, but that’s not what catches my eye. The mannequin is actually a skeleton . . . a skeleton who’s accessorized the dress with a jaunty sailor cap. And it looks like she’s smiling at me.

CLICK CLICK go her jaws, then all hell breaks loose.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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THE SKELETON HORDE RUSHES US FROM ALL SIDES. ALL THE mannequins in the mall have been transformed into a walking, stalking army of bones.

“Laser gun and grenades!” I bark at Wyn, pulling out my machete and oak shield. I’d prefer to use my crossbow, but it will be useless at close range; I need to find an eagle’s nest and fast.

Within seconds Wyn picks off the leaders of the pack with the laser guns, then lobs the grenades in quick succession. They explode in a perfect circle around us—one, two, three, four, five. Once the pile of bones and boas, bathrobes and boots disappears, I quickly assess the damage. Looks like my fighting partner just halved our enemy.

“Nice!” I yell to Wyn, who’s already back on laser gun duty.

“These guns aren’t gonna last much longer,” he yells back. As if to prove his point, both lasers die on cue.

Damn. I look around again, desperate to find a protected perch where I can set up my crossbow, but there’s nothing but open space around me and the remaining boneheads are coming in fast. I check my inventory. Rappelling gun and harness. Right. They’ll have to do.

“Sword! And start swinging,” I yell at Wyn, then point the rappelling gun straight above me.

Whoosh. Thwack! The grapple hook lodges in the ceiling three stories above me and whips me into the air above the fray. I dangle there, like the angel from a Christmas play, only instead of a harp I have a loaded crossbow.

Forty arrows left and I need to make each one count. The skeletons have begun to close in on Wyn, forming a circle around him. He’s got the Gladius sword out and he’s crouched and ready in the middle, looking around wildly.

“Nixy, where are you?” he shouts.

“Up here!” I yell back, then I get to work. I start with the inner circle of skeletons, twirling on my hook like a jewelry box ballerina. Only five shots later I’m in the zone, working the crossbow on automatic pilot. The boneheads are momentarily confused as their comrades go down one by one, but then my buddy Sailor Cap spots me overhead.

Uh-oh.

I’ve managed to pick off about twenty so far, but there are still nearly that many left and now they’re coming after me.

Four of them drop their weapons and form the base of a cheerleading tower underneath me. Four more climb up on their shoulders. I shoot two of them, but two more hop on faster than I can reload. Now they’re three skeletons high and I have to reel myself higher. When I spy Sailor Cap stick his saber between his jaws and start climbing, I know I need a new plan of action.

I look down at Wyn, who’s fending off two skeletons, the only two who haven’t joined the cheerleaders. Though I respect their decision to distance themselves from the rah-rahs, I shoot them anyway. Wyn looks up at me.

“Take out the tower!” I yell. “Hurry!”

He pauses for a second, baffled by the bonehead acrobatics.

“Cut’em down at the knees!” I yell, and he springs into action.

The tower wobbles this way and that as Wyn hacks at the femurs below. Every time one bonehead goes down, the others regroup and rebuild just as fast. I pump my legs like a gymnast to propel myself away from them and try to keep the ones on top from grabbing my feet. Sailor Cap is now standing on top of the column like a pirate, brandishing his saber at me. I try to aim the crossbow at him, but it’s no use; we’re all teetering around like drunken hobos. I’ve only got two arrows left