The Prophecy of Shadows (14 page)

“It’s probably an animal.” Blake looked back up at the fire and made it burn brighter. “They’re everywhere around here.”

Just as he said it, something growled and stepped out of the shadows. At first I thought it was a wolf, but whatever this … creature was, it definitely wasn’t something I’d heard of before. It looked like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. Its neck was split into two, each one sprouting a separate head. Its tail stood on end—a scaly thing that looked like it belonged on a scorpion, the spiky tip pointing straight into the air.

I grabbed Blake’s arm and looked at him to check if he was seeing this, too. Judging by the horror splashed across his face, he was.

Growling again, the creature dug its front claws into the dirt and lowered its heads to the ground, its glowing yellow eyes locked on ours.

Then it chomped its teeth together, let out a feral growl, and charged.

“Run!” Blake yelled, grabbing my arm and pulling me off the merry-go-round.

It spun under our weight, and I held onto the metal bars, pushing off of them to leap over the edge. The cedar chips on the ground cushioned my landing. The car was behind us, which would mean running towards the monstrous hound, so I bolted for the playground, hurrying up a ladder of rubber tires that led to the closest platform. Blake followed close behind. The second he was up he took the lighter out of his pocket and aimed a blue fireball at the tires, melting them to the ground seconds before the hound reached them.

It looked up at us and growled—a low, menacing sound that if I spoke dog I would have assumed meant “I’m going to have you for dinner”—and tried to jump onto the platform. It missed by only a few inches.

Blake flicked on his lighter and threw a fireball at the hound’s chest, but it jumped to the side to get out of the way. It turned all four of its eyes up at us, one head letting out a deep roar as the other snapped its teeth together, taking bites out of the air.

My hands shook, and I gripped one of the log posts behind me for support. “Have you learned how to fight these things in homeroom?” I asked Blake, my voice rising in panic.

He threw another fireball, and it missed the hound again. “No,” he snapped, the flames lighting up his face. “Fighting legendary creatures isn’t on the syllabus.”

“Maybe it should be,” I said as he launched another ball of fire, hitting the hound on its front paw. Both of its heads yelped in pain. The scorpion tail lowered between its legs, and it growled again before turning away from us and running around the side of the playground, woodchips flying behind it as it gained speed.

My heart pounded, and I looked around to figure how to get off the platform. The exit was a slide that dropped off at the monkey bars. I could get down and run to the car, but I didn’t know where the hound was, and leaving the platform could give it the perfect opportunity to pounce.

Then the hound growled again. I turned around, spotting it clamoring up a ladder of logs that led to a nearby platform. Only a wobbly bridge separated that platform from our own. My entire body shook, and I moved closer to Blake, grabbing his arm for support.

The hound reached the top of the platform, and its glowing eyes narrowed, ready to attack.

Not having anywhere else to go, I launched myself down the slide and hurried to the monkey bars, climbing up the ladder and hoisting myself on top of them. Gripping the sides, I crawled to the center bar, but the ground spun beneath me, my lungs tightening as I looked down. I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself. A six-foot fall wasn’t deadly. Now wasn’t the time to let my fear of heights get to me.

Blake scrambled behind me, and I turned around to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face from the flames, but other than that he looked okay. He took his lighter out again, holding it up in preparation to create another fireball.

I looked back at the hound in time to see it run along the bridge and hurl itself towards us. It bared its teeth as it flew through the air, its arms outstretched as it came closer to the monkey bars. But it must not have had enough force behind the jump, because it fell to the ground with a loud thump. It stood and shook the woodchips off its fur, a low growl coming from somewhere deep in its throat as it turned its heads up to look at us.

Before I could say anything to Blake about how completely screwed we were, he threw two balls of fire towards the hound, hitting both of its faces. It howled and collapsed, whimpering as it buried its snouts in its paws. The smell of burnt skin filled the air. My stomach swirled with nausea, and I lifted a hand to my nose to block out the odor.

Only a few seconds passed before it stood up again. The fur on its faces had changed into a charred grey. Its yellow eyes glowed brighter now, both snouts chomping madly in the air, strings of saliva dripping to the ground as it waited to devour whichever one of us lost our balance first.

Then I had a crazy idea.

“Can you burn the wood around one of these metal bars and get it out?” I pointed to show Blake what I meant. The poles to grab on to while swinging across the monkey bars were metal, but the rest of the structure was wood. If Blake could burn a small amount of wood away that surrounded one of the poles, the metal could come loose.

“Without the whole structure falling down?” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “If I can, what do you plan on doing with it … using it as a sword?”

“Sort of,” I said. “Unless you have a better idea? Because what we’re doing now isn’t working.”

He examined a metal bar on the end, running his hands along the edges where it met with the wood. “I should be able to do it,” he said, glancing down at the hound. It jumped in the air and snapped its teeth, only missing us by a foot. “But if the structure falls, run for it.” He took his keys out of his pocket and placed them in my palm, wrapping my fist around them. “I’ll distract it, and you get to the car. Don’t wait for me.”

“You want me to leave you to deal with that thing alone?” Now I looked at
him
like he was crazy. “No way.”

“I can hold it off with my power,” he insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

The hound walked away before I could respond, not looking back as it disappeared behind the playground.

“Is it leaving?” I whispered.

Blake shook his head, his hand ready with his lighter. “I don’t think so.”

It reappeared in my line of sight, and I realized what it was doing. A few platforms away was another way up the jungle gym—a single log that looked like a large balance beam slanted upwards—and it was heading right towards it.

Blake must have realized what it was doing too, because he threw another ball of fire towards the hound. The flames hit the tip of its scorpion tail. The fire took only a few seconds to go out, and the hound jumped onto the platform we were on earlier, glaring at us. It backed up to the other end of the bridge and dug its legs into the wood like a bull about to attack.

I tightened my grip on the edges of the monkey bars. “Get me the metal bar,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady considering that my heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. “Now.”

He flicked on the lighter, directing the fire towards the wood around the farthest pole. I held on to the sides for support in case it collapsed, keeping watch on the hound. It must have known what we were doing, because it raced across the bridge, gaining speed in preparation to jump.

Blake yanked the bar out of the wood and handed it to me. My hand wrapped around the metal, and it was like time slowed down. The hound leaped off the platform and soared through the air, all four of its eyes on me. I zeroed in on my target—the spot on its chest where its heart should be—and my mind
knew
what to do. It was like looking through a high-tech sniper rifle. I could see exactly where to aim, and knew how much force I needed to use and what angle to point the pole to hit the moving target. It felt similar to when I evaluated how to hit a ball in tennis towards a specific spot on the court, only a million times more accurate, like the adrenaline coursing through my veins had set my mind on super-speed.

I pulled my arm back and sent the pole flying, directing it on a straight, smooth path exactly where I’d intended. It connected with the target, and two high-pitched yelps sounded through the air, followed by a bang as the hound collided with the ground.

Everything was silent for the first time since the hound had appeared. I leaned over the edge of the monkey bars to check on it, grimacing at what I saw. The pole had gotten stuck in its body, entering its chest and coming out through its back. Blood glistened on the metal. One of its heads twisted at an unnatural angle, and the other whimpered before closing its eyes and falling lifeless on the ground. Its tail twitched a few times and went still.

I almost felt bad for the thing—but then I remembered how it had tried to make Blake and me into a late-night snack, and I didn’t feel quite as guilty.

Now was the issue of what to do with the body.

Before I could ask Blake for any ideas, the hound flickered like a faulty projected image and disappeared. All that remained was the pole, half-covered in blood.

I looked around, checking if there were any other monsters lurking in the darkness. Piles of woodchips crackled with flames, but other than that, nothing seemed to be moving.

“I think we can get down now,” I said.

Blake headed towards the ladder, but when he shifted his weight, the monkey bars collapsed, dumping us onto the ground. My breath caught at the impact. I broke the fall with my elbows and knees, rolling over the woodchips and colliding with Blake.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, which had gotten messed up in the fall. “I guess the wood didn’t take well to the fire.” He chuckled, and we both looked around the playground to examine the damage. The monkey bars dangled from one end like someone had taken a chainsaw to the middle of them. The flames on the woodchips were growing taller, and they lit up portions of the jungle gym, threatening to burn it all down.

He held his hands up in the air and slowly lowered them. As he did, the fire receded until it was snuffed out completely.

I examined my palms, which were cut up from the woodchips. “At least falling off the monkey bars is better than…” I looked at the place where the hound had been, scrunching my nose at the bloody pole lying on the ground.

“Than being ripped to shreds by a two-headed scorpion-tailed dog-monster?” Blake finished my thought. “I definitely agree with you there.”

My injuries weren’t bad—only a few scratches—and I called on white energy to heal them. They disappeared in seconds. Blake had a few cuts too, so I healed him as well, but using the energy wore me out. My head felt like a lead weight, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

“You look tired,” Blake said as we walked to the car. “Let’s go back and get some sleep so we’re ready for whatever we’ll be up against tomorrow. We’ll tell the others about what happened in the morning.”

I nodded, glad when we reached the car so I could sit down. My mind felt hazy, and all I wanted was to close my eyes, lean against the window, and go to sleep.

Then I remembered something I wanted to ask him. I’d been hesitant to bring it up before because I didn’t want to be intrusive, but one question couldn’t hurt. Plus, we’d just had a bonding experience. It’s not every day that you have to work together to fight off a mythological monster that wants to kill you.

“I heard that you and your friends don’t like humans very much,” I began, watching him in the hope that the question wasn’t too personal. “Is that true?”

He stayed focused on the road, his jaw muscles tight. “It’s not that we don’t like them,” he said simply. “But we
are
more powerful than humans. Is it so bad to see them as weak?”

“It’s not their fault that they don’t have powers,” I said. “We’re not any more deserving than they are. We didn’t do anything special to be like this. It’s just the way we were born.”

“It’s different when you’ve grown up knowing about what you can do,” he said. “Humans are weak. We’re powerful. Think of it like … natural selection.”

I looked out the window, not wanting to hear any more. Because it just reminded me that Blake only liked me because of my powers. He wouldn’t have noticed me at all if I were normal.

He pulled up in front of my house and turned to look at me. “Nicole,” he said, the smoothness of his voice making my name sound like music. “I don’t want you to take what I said about humans the wrong way. I’m not a bad person. I promise.”

My thoughts drifted to the clay sun he’d made for me in ceramics, and the time we’d spent together on the merry-go-round before getting attacked by the two-headed hound. “You just saved my
life
at the playground,” I said. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. I could never think you were a bad person.”

“Good.” He reached forward and brushed his fingers against my hand, sending a surge of heat up my arm. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if you thought otherwise. All I could think about when we were fighting that thing was that I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you got hurt because I couldn’t protect you.” His hand remained on top of mine, and I looked up into his eyes—so soft and deep and caring. Being with Blake felt
right
.