Every inch forward thins our front lines more. If this keeps up, my sister and I will be in the thick of it by the time we cross the midpoint of the enemy forces.
My body tingles with nervous anticipation, and I squeeze the hilt of the katana harder.
The last New York Councilor dies shortly; soon after that, the final one of Maxwell’s recruits is killed as well.
“This is it,” Ariel says with an excitement I don’t share.
Then again, her sanity isn’t on the line, like mine is.
With mandibles clacking, a colony of ant monsters crashes into our ranks. A big ant lunges at me, so I cleave it in two and get sprayed with disgusting gore. It takes all my willpower not to vanish the foulness using my dreamwalking skills.
Like a war goddess, Ariel races forward, chopping mandibles left and right and cleaving insectoid bodies into pieces. Felix’s four arms move like a silvery blur, his upper hands tearing off antennas while his lower hands rip off ant legs at the same time.
A lot of my patients die, some in such horrible ways that I’ll have to provide them with free therapy.
There’s a guttural cry to my left. A spiral worm has just sliced off Rowan’s head with its knife-sharp talons. Ariel dashes toward it, but I don’t see what she does because a giant tardigrade looms over Asha, ready to smother her with its bulk.
Without coordinating, she and I move in unison, slashing the thick trunk of the monster from each side.
The fragmented thing dies, but two anglers take its place.
Asha slices hers into quarters as I behead mine.
Another angler attacks me. As I dodge its tentacles, I have to remind myself that the disgusting viscera covering me is part of a dream and therefore lacks viruses and bacteria.
Shark teeth pierce my left shoulder.
Yelping in pain, I cleave off the angler’s head. As it drops, a wave of nausea washes over me at the rotten-fish stench of the angler’s blood and the burning agony of my wound.
A nail-swordsman rakes his claws over Asha’s back. She gasps in pain, and the thing lifts another sword-like claw for a death strike. I leap forward and slice off the creature’s arm before it can descend.
“Thanks,” Asha pants. Then her eyes widen at something behind me.
I whirl around.
A spiral worm is corkscrewing headfirst at my chest—something or someone must’ve launched it, like a lance.
With a shout, Ariel jumps into its path. The thing smashes through her chest and comes out on the other side—which is when I behead it.
Ariel dies.
Gritting my teeth, I chop a nearby worm into pieces, then kill a dozen more in a haze of pain and fury.
When I slow down, I realize I’ve been hemorrhaging all over the place, and so has my twin.
I glance up to see why her hubby or one of the other Escapists hasn’t healed us yet—just as an inhumanly beautiful voice carries across the whole battlefield, conjuring terror with each syllable it utters.
“I grow bored,” Phobetor says. “Now that you’re firmly within my reach, behold.”
Within his reach? He must mean the invisible line through the battlefield that Maxwell drew for us earlier.
We did cross it, some time ago. There wasn’t a choice. To kill him, we need to get close to him.
Phobetor waves his gargantuan hand.
Like the bolt of magma lightning that struck Maxwell, a tendril from the sky leaps into the head of the fake me—an Escapist woman whose name I didn’t even learn.
The tendril then swirls and grows, until it looks like a tornado of fire. A fiery light streams from my duplicate’s eyes, forming a brain hologram in the air.
Within seconds, the fire takes over the brain, and she disappears.
Phobetor’s voice takes on a new inflection. “Interesting. That wasn’t who I thought it was.”
Another tendril careens toward the head of fake Asha, who’s really Kojo.
Without losing his wife’s guise, Kojo extends his hand, and even from this distance, I can see his/our features contort with strain.
The tendril meant for him shimmers in the air, then dissipates.
“Wow,” I breathe. “Kojo is able to resist Phobetor.”
“Perhaps at this distance,” my sister whispers. “If he were closer, I doubt—”
Phobetor waves again.
All the remaining condors and vultures morph into shards of obsidian that careen at the heads of Kojo and the Escapists too fast for my eyes to track.
Bam. The projectiles bash against all the heads as one, leaving the stunned dreamwalkers floating in the air.
Suddenly, every molecule in my body feels heavy, as if gravity has quadrupled. And that must be exactly what’s happened. Blood gushes faster from my shoulder, and it’s a struggle to remain on my feet.
Kojo plummets from the sky, along with the other Escapists.
Puck. If they hit the ground, their minds will be broken beyond repair.
“No!” Asha yells and extends her hand toward her husband.