City of Dust

Chapter Eight

A strange chittering scuttles across the deserted highway like tarantula legs. I stiffen, instinctively pin-pointing its origin without so much as turning around. Everyone I've ever come across knows that sound. Jae-Seong once told me that it reminded him of a rattlesnake, for all the visceral, gut-punch reaction it creates.

I feel every muscle in Winston's large body tense.

Great.

"What is it?" Kayleigh asks, voice rising and falling as she struggles to keep the mare under control.

"Quiet," I hiss, holding up one hand. Slowly, I turn to release the crossbow from its hook. It drops heavily into my gloved hands, loaded with deadly intention.

A cockatrice emerges from the behind the desolate hills of the former winery. Gritting my teeth, I raise the crossbow, leveling its poison-tipped bolt at the creature.

It pauses at the edge of the highway and cocks its head to the side, as if examining the pavement. The scourge of California is a fox-sized grotesque mixture of chicken, bat and lizard. Some people liken their reptile parts to a dragon, but I've always thought dragons were supposed to be more majestic than this experiment of nature gone horribly wrong.

Winston bellows and tosses his antlers, issuing a challenge to the cockatrice.

Goddammit, I groan as the creature's poison-green eyes focus on us. It's too far too early for the beast to be awake. Why the hell is it awake now?

Long lashes brush the dust from the cockatrice's eyes and it takes a step forward, black claws clicking. Red-veined wings flutter at its flanks, stirring the dead air into new patterns. It's testing us, waiting to see what we do next.

Well, what I'll do is the same thing that I did to the three others I dumped at Barney's—shoot it dead and slit its throat. But this time, I'm leaving its horrid carcass to rot on the California highway. Let's see how its coven likes seeing its remains splattered across miles of pavement.

There's no room for hesitation. Once the cockatrice issues its hunting call, it will alert the coven and no matter how deeply asleep they are, that is the one thing that will awaken them. Sighting the crossbow, I curse as a strong gust of wind stirs up the dust, throwing a protective curtain over the cockatrice.

Goddamn you, Ehtab!

Blinded by the cloud, I aim the crossbow for the cockatrice's last-known position and fire. The heavy bow thuds against my shoulder as the bolt sings towards its target. I wait as time slows, breath thick in my chest, for the sound of impact.

The world lurches forward, making my heart jump as the bolt crunches through the tough, bony plates of the cockatrice's chest. A high, piercing scream rakes across my nerves like a bow over an untuned violin. As the wind suddenly dies, I see the cockatrice flopping on the ground, black ichor pouring from its wound.

Yanking a knife from my belt, I swiftly cross the dusty highway and end the cockatrice's life. Wiping the blade on its grey-green hide, I return it to its hidden sheath and retrieve the crossbow bolt. Dislodging the steel-tipped head proves somewhat difficult; I have to plant a foot on the body and yank backwards. Bones crack and more ichor oozes as I free the bolt from its chest plate.

"Uhm ..."

Twisting, I look at the girl over my shoulder. Doing her best to remain seated atop the nervous mare, Kayleigh points at the hill.

Rising slowly to my feet, I turn in the indicated direction. Goddammit—we're not even two hours out of Eureka. A dozen cockatrices rise out of the hills, some dragging their feet as if fighting off sleep. Their grogginess lasts about as long as it takes the lead rooster to spot us.