“Need some help?” Doc skidded to a stop at Creek’s side.
“Love some.” Creek leveled his crossbow at the thing and sent a bolt into its body. The serpent howled, its voice high and oddly feminine.
“We need to take the heads off,” Mortalis said. Out of nowhere, he brandished a short curved blade. “We need to get it on the ground for that.”
“I can bring it down,” Fi said.
“Like hell you will.” Doc shot her an angry look. “Get behind us.”
Creek shook his head. “This isn’t a game, Fi.”
She flipped them off. “Nothing can touch me in my ghost form. Just get ready to kill it.” Without waiting for them to respond, she darted out from behind the Dumpster and toward the serpent. Doc grabbed her arm, but his hand closed around nothing. When she was ghost, there was nothing to grab.
“Hey, slimy,” she yelled. She levitated a discarded bottle and chucked it at the creature. The bottle shattered against the light pole. All three heads swiveled in her direction.
“I do not like this,” Doc whispered. He was fighting the fire within hard, trying to breathe and stay calm enough to keep from combusting.
“She’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t go corporeal,” Mortalis answered. “She’s a little crazy, that one.” But there was admiration in his voice.
“It’s working,” Creek said.
The serpent slithered down the pole, its heads dancing closer and closer to Fi. Every so often, she took a step back, turning as she moved so that the creature’s back was to them.
Creek pulled a knife from his boot. “I’ll take the head on the right. Doc, you take the middle, Mortalis, the left. On three.”
“Got it,” Doc answered.
“On three,” Mortalis repeated.
“One,” Creek said.
Fi threw something else at the serpent, and the front half of the creature hit the asphalt.
“Two,” Creek said.
She took another step back. “Come and get me, you disgusting worm.”
It disengaged from the light pole completely.
“Three!” Creek yelled.
They sprang forward, each man attacking his assigned head. A few sparks still snapped from the transformer, biting into the flashing blades. Metal found flesh and sinew. Blood spewed into the air, drenching them, but the battle was over almost as soon as it had started. The headless serpent twitched on the corner of Alafaya and Vine, its blood pooling in the street and trailing into the storm drain.
“Yay,” Fi cried, clapping as she came toward them. “That was awesome.”
“Yeah, awesome.” The sticky ooze covering Doc made him itch. He hated being dirty. He tried to breathe. One freak-out and he’d go up like a Fourth of July finale.
Creek turned to Doc and Mortalis. “Thanks for the help.”
Fi stopped at Doc’s side and wrinkled her nose. “You guys look really gross. You don’t smell so hot either. You get in Mal’s car like that and he’ll make you wish that snake thing had eaten you.”
“You think I like this?” Doc asked. Heat built in his hands. He looked down to make sure there were no flames. There weren’t. Yet.
Mortalis frowned. “And I thought Nothos guts were bad. This stuff feels like acid.”
“We need to wash it off before it does any permanent damage.” Creek pointed halfway down the block to a fire hydrant. “There.”
“How are you going to open that without a wrench?” Fi asked.
Creek hoisted his crossbow, took aim, and fired. The bolt sheared off the main nut on the hydrant, sending a plume of water into the air. “Like that. Let’s get cleaned up. Here, Fi, hold this.” He gingerly held out a small black rectangle.
Doc was under the spray before she got corporeal to take the phone. Water had never felt so good. He scrubbed at himself as best he could. Creek and Mortalis joined him to do the same.
“Hey!” Fi yelled. She waved at them.
“What?” Doc asked, the rush of the hydrant’s geyser filling his ears.
She held up the phone. The screen was lit up. “Creek’s got a call.” She glanced at the screen. “Somebody named Argent. You want me to answer it?”
“No.” Creek darted out of the water and snatched the phone from her fingers. He swiped a finger across the screen. “Creek here.” He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Will do.” He hung up and turned back to Doc and Mortalis.
“Something up?” Mortalis asked as he stepped out of the spray.
Doc came out behind him to hear better.
Creek nodded. “Police need some help down in Little Havana. They think they have the comarré killer.”
Chapter Forty
A screaming wall of pain jerked Chrysabelle out of a deep, dreamless sleep. She woke up gasping for air, belly-down on her bed, arms and legs tangled in sweat-damp sheets. The trip to the signumist came back to her in a hard rush of memory and throbbing, fiery pain.
A hand touched her shoulder and she yelped, shrinking away from it. The move shot fresh heat through her back. The new signum there burned like brands.
The hand disappeared. Mal’s silver eyes came into focus, his face somehow suddenly inches from hers. “It’s okay. You’re home. Stay still and rest.”
She stared into his eyes, the cool of her pillow a comfort. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. “Home?”
He nodded. “Do you want anything? Velimai is here.”