Page 36 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals (Mythic Holidays #3)

At the stairs, I hesitate, looking back at the ooze, curious how it will react to the burning pack. A peninsula of the green slime has separated from the rest, and it’s creeping toward the flame, drawn by the heat.

The instant the ooze touches the fire, there’s a violent bang, so loud my ears go muffled and my skull rings with shock. I duck, shielding my face against a hail of oncoming shrapnel.

After a moment, I risk a glance down the hallway.

The combination of that bit of ooze with the fire was catastrophic. It created a spherical explosion so perfect that I can see the shape of its curvature in the destroyed walls and blasted timbers. Everything within the sphere of destruction was annihilated.

A harsh whine sings through the muted air, penetrating even my momentary deafness. It’s the ooze-creature, mouthlessly wailing its pain. There’s less of it now, and what remains of its mass slides through a damaged door into one of the other rooms, seeking refuge.

I tilt my head from side to side and pop my jaw, trying to get my hearing back, even though I know it will take time. Meanwhile I ponder the fact that the ooze isn’t merely sentient and fixated on devouring each living thing it encounters—it’s also highly explosive.

“Why the fuck do the Fae keep this stuff around?” I mutter.

I descend the spiral staircase toward the second floor. Once I reach the first level, I’ll take the wardrobe stairs to the basement, and I’ll make my way to the room where Devilry waits for me. This is almost over. Our triumph is so close I can taste it.

But as I place one bloody foot on the next curved step, I see a shadow moving on the wall. At the same moment an odor hits me—something acrid and morbid, like the smell of death. The spiral staircase vibrates under a ponderous weight that’s advancing from below.

I peer around the curve of the stairs, and there it is. The six-legged crimson beast, the one with the terrible voices.

It’s on the second-floor landing. Waiting for me. Blocking my path.

The monster’s nostrils are scorched black, so I’m guessing its sense of smell is heavily damaged, if not destroyed altogether. But the fan around its neck is raised and vibrating. It can hear my breathing and my footsteps. It knows I’m here.

“Hey ugly,” I tell it. “Come to fetch me for your voice collection?”

The beast’s muzzle separates, three toothy sections widening horrifically until I can see deep into its throat.

A violent chill races over my body as I look into that maw, because it’s more than a throat.

There’s a vast distance and depth within it, striated by swirls of sickening, gaseous green.

This creature’s belly is a gateway to some torturous void.

One of the monster’s tails ends in a bloody stump, thanks to Devilry, but the other is snaking toward me. At the same time, a thick tentacle-tongue shoots out from the beast’s maw, headed straight for my throat.

I hoist the cannon with my right arm, roaring as the wounds in my shoulder tear open. I prop the cannon barrel on my left forearm and wrench the trigger back.

The blast of magic hits the beast directly in the mouth. But it rockets down the monster’s throat, dissipating harmlessly into the creature’s internal void.

“Fuck!” I scream, right before its tongue lashes around my throat. It cinches tight, choking off my breath.

I yank on the trigger again, but nothing happens. Either the cannon is spent, or it’s jammed. I can’t hold the weapon any longer—I have to let it fall.

The tongue flexes so sharply that I’m terrified its next movement will break my neck. The monster’s tail coils around my waist, dragging me toward those razor jaws, which will shred me before I vanish down its gullet.

Years from now, someone else will face this thing, and my voice will emanate from its jaws, saying, “Hey ugly,” and then screaming “Fuck!” It will be the last sound the hapless victim hears before they meet their end, just as I’m going to meet mine.

But as my body is being lifted toward the beast’s jaws, there’s a flash of black and scarlet, a gleam of blades. Devilry has leaped onto the monster’s back, and she has sunk two matching swords deep into its head, right behind its horns.

With a feral cry she presses her thumbs against the hilts of both swords, then lets go of them.

Clockwork arms unfold from the crossguards, each bearing a spinning, needle-like spike on the end.

There’s a grinding of gears as the swords and needles drill themselves deeper and deeper into the creature’s skull.

“That’s my partner, you vile piece of shit!” Devilry screams, tearing at the monster’s fan with her bare hands. “You will fucking let him go!”

The monster chokes, vomits a few disembodied screams, and relaxes its hold on me. Frantically I shake off the coils of tongue and tail, scrambling backward up the steps as the creature’s body slumps against the stairs. Its tongue flops from its jaws, lying inert.

“What the hell are those swords?” I exclaim.

“Drosselmeyer.” Devilry grabs the hilts and presses her thumbs against the gems on each sword’s pommel. Those gems must be triggers, because at her touch, everything folds back into the weapons’ hilts and crossguards until they look like a normal pair of short swords.

She notices my admiring stare as she shoves the swords back into the sheaths on her back. “No, you can’t have them.”

“Of course not, I wasn’t… oh shit.” I watch Devilry apprehensively as she stalks over the carcass of the beast and marches up the steps toward me. Now that the beast has been conquered, she’s entirely focused on me. And she’s fucking incensed.

“You idiot,” she says. “You left me.”

“I was coming back.” I scoot up a few more steps to put space between us, but my strength is giving out. My skin feels clammy with cold, yet my wounds are burning.

“How do I know you wouldn’t have grabbed some of the loot, used the Doras àlainn, and abandoned me there?” Devilry asks.

“I knew you’d get free.” I lean against the railing, utterly spent. “I was trying to spare you, to protect you.”

“You were being ridiculous,” she spits. “You’re in far worse shape than I am. We should have done this together.”

“We did,” I point out. “Your timing was perfect.”

“Not because you planned it that way.”

“The best plan is the luck of the gods.” I attempt an ingratiating smile.

“Is that supposed to be a grin?”

“Is it not?”

“It’s more like an agonized grimace.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, it’s the best I can manage at the moment.”

Devilry purses her lips. “Apologize, and maybe I’ll help you.”

“I am deeply sorry for my foolishness.”

“And for making me worry about you.”

“Of course, that too.”

Her eyes narrow. “If only I knew you were sincere.”

“Let’s see if I can do better.” I cough wetly and clear my throat.

“Devilry, my love, I think I’m about to pass out again, so before I do, let me apologize for making a choice that I knew would anger you.

I can’t promise not to do it again in the future, but I can promise to talk to you first next time, and to take your guidance seriously. ”

“Not quite there yet, but close,” she says. “You sound as if you plan to be around me for a long time.”

“I thought I made it clear that I can’t live without you. I’m going to stalk you in this life and haunt you in the next.”

She kneels on the steps beside me, her lips curving in a barely suppressed smile. “So I don’t have a choice in the matter?”

“Strictly speaking, no. I’m sticking with you forever.”

Devilry pushes my hair back from my forehead. “I think you’re delirious.”

“I might be. And I feel sick. Not sure whether to vomit or pass out.”

“Let’s try for neither.”

Pulling my left arm across her shoulder, she helps me climb over the beast’s hulking crimson form and descend the spiral stairs to the first level. Then she lowers me down so I can lean against the wall.

“I appreciate you letting me rest,” I say. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather grab some treasure and head back to the mortal realm as soon as possible.”

Sitting down beside me, she reaches into her pocket and takes out a pink sugared candy, rather like a gumdrop. “Eat this.”

“Sweetheart, are you trying to poison me? It’s redundant, I promise, because I feel like death anyway.”

“Open your mouth, asshole.”

Sighing, I obey. She pokes the candy onto my tongue and I chew it reluctantly.

Seconds later, I realize that my pain is easing. My right shoulder prickles, and there’s an odd tugging sensation along each of my cuts that’s unsettling, but not unpleasant. Strangest of all, there’s a growing tightness beneath the wrapping on my left hand.

Devilry watches me intently, her gray eyes bright. “Is it working?”

“What did you give me?”

With an impatient sigh she pulls aside my shirt and rips the bandage off my shoulder. “Shit,” she exclaims in a reverent tone. “It does work.”

“What?” I turn my head to look at my own shoulder. From what I can see, the claw marks are closing, healing themselves rapidly. My pulse kicks up as I tear the blood-soaked bandages off my injured hand.

My fingers are growing back. At the moment they’re pink, glossy, and odd-looking, but they’re definitely in the process of regrowth. In a few minutes, they should be back to normal.

“Did you find that candy in the room with Drosselmeyer’s things?” I ask.

“Sort of.” Devilry wets her lips, avoiding my gaze.

She’s being evasive, but not in her usual way. There’s a dread and discomfort in her eyes that sends ice into the pit of my stomach.

Did something happen to her while I was gone?

“Talk to me,” I say quietly.

“Ravager, I need you to do something for me, without asking questions.”

“Anything.”

She laughs brokenly. “I really hope you mean that. Because I need you to help me destroy Annordun and everything in it.”