Page 40 of The Poisoned King (Impossible Creatures #2)

Sunlight on Obsidian

The poison had slowed the manticore, and its leap was less powerful than it had intended. The outstretched claws fell just short of them. There was no time to think, now, or to plan: they ran.

They sprinted shoulder to shoulder, Anya’s feet slamming against the dirt. She stumbled, and the beast’s terrible scorpion tail lashed out, but Christopher grabbed her arm and hauled her upward so she barely broke stride.

The manticore was close behind. They could hear its breath. She felt no doubt that it would kill.

They ran through the long grass toward the orchard and the woodshed. The sun was remorseless, half blinding them.

The manticore followed, saliva dripping from its lips as it ran. Twice Christopher twisted to meet the manticore, slashing at the creature’s feet and snout, leaping backward as it lunged. He caught the front paw and the beast shrieked, limping as it came on.

“Anya,” gasped Christopher, “split up. Climb that tree there. Get clear.”

“What?”

“Do it!”

Christopher turned left, sprinting for the woodshed. Anya hesitated, then launched herself up the tree. She pulled herself along a branch overhanging the shed and looked down on them.

Christopher stood with his back against the shed, panting. The sun was full in his face, and he squinted in the light but held his sword steady.

The manticore approached. The sun glinted off the curve of its great horns.

“Wait!” said Christopher. “I surrender!” He held his sword out, flat, laid across both hands. “Mercy! Have mercy.”

The manticore laughed. “I’ve heard that word before. It is often people’s last word, before they die.” The tail rose above the manticore’s head to strike.

Christopher waited—waited, until it was almost too late—and then he twisted the sword in the sun. The light caught in the reflection of the obsidian sword. The obsidian embraced the sun and multiplied it tenfold, and the light struck the manticore full in the eyes.

The manticore roared and twisted away, and the tip of its scorpion tail, unleashed to kill, twisted with it.

It struck the side of the shed and lodged itself in the thick oak.

Christopher dropped to the ground and rolled sideways.

The manticore hissed, pulling backward, but its tail was stuck, rooted deep in the wood.

Christopher snatched his sword high as the manticore twisted and screeched. The beast turned, its mouth open in a roar of fury. Christopher plunged his sword into the beast’s side.

There was a moment of terrible chaos as the creature thrashed. It dropped to the ground, and Christopher stood back.

He bent to wipe the blade on the grass.

The manticore’s eyes twitched open. Behind Christopher’s back, its claws extended.

Anya didn’t allow herself time to think.

She launched herself from the tree onto the back of the manticore.

She used her own momentum, the falling force of her whole body and soul, to drive her knife deep into the neck of the beast. It fell to the ground like a rag doll. Its dead eyes were cold black rock.

Christopher and Anya stared at each other. Both were covered in blood.

Together, they walked down to the river.

“You saved my life over there,” he said.

“And you saved mine,” said Anya.

Gallia and Koo came flying across the lawn as Anya bent over the water to wash.

Koo landed on Christopher’s hand. “Mine?” he said.

“Yes,” said Anya. “Yours, I think.” They were all each other’s now. “Thank you, Christopher.”

And then the adrenaline and courage drained from her, and her knees gave way, and she sat down on the grass: and all she could think of was her father, waiting in his cell to die.